#i don’t even know if you can survive finding that deviant. but trying again requires 20 minutes

[tofu-bento-box]

i started playing detroit: become human and i’m going in completely blind. this shows because i apparently CANNOT GET THROUGH A SINGLE MISSION WITHOUT A FUCKING DEATH TOLL

[krreader]

becoming human | chapter three.

pairing: cops!bts x android!reader (as in, ot7 x reader, but may change) fandom: bts warnings: detroit:become human!au ; mentions of murder ; blood ; language genre: crime ; angst ; crack ; (possibly smut) word count: 1.8k+ previous: 1 ; 2

summary: the crime rate of seoul has been rising rapidly these past weeks and nobody could deny that there was more to it than gangs or the likes. something was brewing that not even the famous bangtan boys could solve, a unit specifically formed for hunting down criminals that most couldn’t. so when even they couldn’t find out what was going on, the department decided to add a new member to the team that would hopefully be able to solve the mysteries behind those crimes. what bangtan hadn’t expected however, was that their new member would not be human, but one of the androids sent by CyberLife.

a/n: hope you like this new chapter friends ♥

Namjoon was the first to push past the police officers and reporters that were at the crime scene, the rest of his squad right behind him.

Some looked angry, others shocked and then yet again others scared.

They barely got any details when the call came in, just that Jin was involved in a lethal crime with an android.

Who the victim was, though, they did not know, hence, the anxiety that clouded them as they walked into the elevator and waited for it to take them to the top floor that Jin grew up on.

“I told him to get rid of that thing the moment androids started acting crazy,” Yoongi hissed, “Why couldn't he just listen?!”

“Guys, let's not jump to conclusions yet. Hyung is resourceful, he can take care of himself and his family,” Namjoon said, but even he was afraid of what he might find once those doors slid open.

The corpse of their oldest member? His mother?

They didn't have to wonder any longer, because the moment the elevator doors opened, they all let out a relieved breath when Jin stood there, his mother right next to him, answering the questions that the police officer needed to have  answered.

“Hyung!” Taehyung dashed forward and immediately hugged Jin, then his mother, “Oh thank goodness, you're both safe!”

“We were so worried!” Jimin let out a breath and hugged his mother just like Taehyung had.

“We're.. okay,” Jin nodded, wrapping one arm around his mother who didn't quite look like it, but that was probably just the shock.

“What the hell happened?” Hoseok asked with furrowed eyebrows, “They didn't give us any details when they called.”

Jin let out a sigh, then asked the police officer to take his mother down to the car and drive her over to his brother that he had already called beforehand. It'd be best if she stayed with him for a while, now that his father was out of town. He didn't want her to be alone right now.

He didn't want her to go through the details of what had happened once again and any other questions the police officers might have, he could answer on his own.

“I knew something was off the moment I came in, but I definitely didn't think things would escalate like that.”

Jin's head turned, his members all doing the same, finding a dead android on the floor.

“He wanted to kill my mother, but when I entered the apartment, his attention shifted. Probably because he knew that it wasn't her who tried to get rid of him, but me,” Jin looked at Yoongi, “I heard what you said. I wanted him to be gone for the sake of my mother, just in case something bad would happen, but.. I should have done it sooner.”

“So he wasn't just stabbing anyone who did him wrong but he.. rationally thought about it?” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows.

“He was.. emotional. He was angry and sad, because he felt like I had betrayed him. Then he wanted to tackle me down, but I still had my gun on me and I just shot. As many times as I had to for him to fall down and not move anymore.”

“You did the right thing,” Hoseok put his hand on Jin's shoulder, “Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't.”

“There's.. one more thing,” Jin now looked at their leader, “RA9.”

That got all of their attention.

“Did he mention it?”

“He said that at least RA9 cares about them and that their time of being slaves to us human beings is finally over. Which makes me think.. this isn't just random cases of androids becoming deviants anymore. This is androids fighting their programming. And this RA9 that they all talk about.. it seems to be their god or their leader. Something or someone that makes them.. wake up.”

An android rebellion? The thought alone made all of Bangtan instantly shut up.

They had hoped these were just a few random cases, maybe some guy sitting in his basement messing around with the programming of androids in hopes of gaining something from it.

But if this truly was the android's fighting their programming, then everyone was at risk with how many androids nowadays existed.

“Did anyone bring that stupid machine?” Namjoon said angrily.

“You mean (Y/N)?” Jimin asked in confusion, not understanding why Namjoon hated you so much, “She's in the car downstairs. I told her to wait, just like you asked, boss.”

“Somebody get her up here. I want her to look at the scene. Also, hyung,” Namjoon turned to Jin, “Do you still have the security cameras installed?”

“I do, but he tampered with them, I already checked.”

“Let that tin woman check again.”

“Seriously, hyung,” Hoseok sighed and shook his head.

Jeongguk ended up being the one to go back down and get you, surprised that you were still sitting there in that same position that you were in when they had left, only that your eyes were now closed.

“Uh.. are you.. sleeping?”

“Something like that,” you smiled and turned your head to look at the youngest member, “How is Officer Seokjin?”

“Good. Alive, just like his mother. The.. deviant was the one that died,” Jeongguk waited for you to get out of the car, then briefed you on your way up, “The boss wants you to look around, see if there is anything else that you can see that would help us figuring this entire RA9 thing out. There must be a way for us to stop this.”

Once the elevator doors closed, you said, “Finding the source of RA9 is a good idea. However, I do not think that it would help us stop this plague.”

Plague. Jeongguk always flinched when you talked about your people like that.

“Then what do you think we should do?”

“I have a few ideas on that matter. I should discuss all of them with your boss. He wants me to come directly to him when I have ideas on how to solve all of this.”

If only he were a little nicer to you if he thought you were so valuable.

Because the moment he saw you, he instantly turned around with an angry huff.

“Officer Seokjin,” you bowed with a smile, “I am glad to see you survived.”

“Uh.. thanks.. I think.”

“May I look around freely? Or are there any areas that are out of bounds for me?”

“Suit yourself. He messed with the cameras, so I doubt you'll find anything on the security footage, but..-”

“Repairing process at 89%.”

All of them looked at you with wide eyes, Taehyung's grin spreading, “Woha.. she's so cool.”

He only stopped when Yoongi nudged his side.

Instead of only playing the footage in your head, you decided to stream it on the TV, for all of them to see.

Jin's mother was making dinner, the android was cleaning the apartment. It all seemed fine, up until he came across a tablet.

“Can you zoom in on that?”

You did so in an instant, revealing an email that Jin had sent to CyberLife. 

About returning the android.

“Note the LED on his head,” you zoomed in once again, “A blue LED signifies a stable and well position. It’s what most androids were programmed to have at all times. Yellow is an increased activity or strain that can sometimes happen when an android is confused or tasked with difficult things that he has to solve quickly.”

“But his LED is red,” Jin narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“Red is something that only occurs when an android is not functioning correctly. It shows imbalance and a level of distress. CyberLife has various reports of LED's turning red during the building of the first androids. Those with red LED's were faulty. But red LED's always had something to do with the builders having done a mistake. In this case, it seems as if something else causes the androids to have this kind of distress.”

“She's right. Just think about it,” Jimin spoke first, “All androids that became deviants that we encountered were put under heavy emotional stress. Hyung's android, that knew it would be shipped away, probably destroyed. The android of that woman that got cheated on, something that would hurt all of us if it ever happened to a human being. That android that bashed his owner's head in after the android was abused over and over again.”

“So you're saying they suddenly.. feel things?”

“Hyung, think about it. What do we do when our emotions are too overwhelming? We panic. We scream. We lose ourselves. We don't function properly anymore.”

“But androids are not designed for this..-”

“I know you all think they're just stupid machines,” Jimin then turned to look at you, “But even machines stop working properly anymore if we do something to them that we shouldn't do.”

“Park Jimin is correct, unfortunately,” you chimed in, “Think about a normal computer. You play games on it, games that require a graphic card that is much better than the one you own. You try to play it on the best possible graphic settings, but your computer will give up eventually, because it is not designed for a game such as the one you want to play.”

“Only that instead of giving up and shutting down, these androids fight their programming,” Hoseok ended the conclusion, “Should that even be possible?”

“No,” you shook your head, “The one that designed these androids should have made sure it would never happen. But maybe he didn't know just how advanced his androids would really become. Maybe he just didn't predict an outcome like this.”

“But why now? Androids have been on the market for years and these deviants only started surfacing within the last couple of months. What suddenly changed?” Jin asked.

“RA9,” Jeongguk said, “This is like every other rebellion, guys. It just needs one person to spark it. One person that finally realized the world was unfair and decided to fight it. One person for others to follow in his footsteps.”

“I can't believe this,” Namjoon shook his head, “If this.. theory is true, then every single person that is close to an android is at risk. Every child, mother and grandmother is at risk when being outside and close to an android that is deciding that the world is unfair and that humans are a threat to them.”

“We need to find RA9. We find it, we destroy it and this nightmare is finally over,” Yoongi nodded..

..like that was easy.

[the-gunslock]

Amanda 3 - Hammer

Third canon-deviant fic about Amanda Holliday and her journey to being greater, from a mini-series of four.

"This one would be pret-tyyy cool…"

The burnt-blonde Shipwright scrolls through the 'Collections' of Exotics Guardians found in their journeys, analyzing their perks as she patiently waits to be called inside the most envied library in the City.

For some seconds, her emerald eyes fall on a pair of knightly silver Gauntlets that could be what she looks for. She ‘hmm’s to herself for a second, trying on some shaders, and nods in approval.

"Amanda, let's go."

Her head moves to pay attention to the Warlock that has just arrived at her usual spot at the Bazaar, greeting her with a nod as she stows her tablet away and is transmatted into the library. She makes a mental note of the name ‘Stronghold’. Shaxx would probably appreciate her dedication to swordplay.

Other pieces like Fr0st-EE5 and Transversive Steps, which do not require Light usage, would also benefit her while she fought. Good to know, good to know. So many loopholes to be exploited.

Ikora Rey had devoted the day to silent studying and rewriting of her books, still not completely updated after the Traveler’s awakening in recent times. In order to focus better, she does most of it quietly and alone in the library, save for the Hidden that appear to report to her on occasion. Today was an exception, for she allowed the Tower’s Shipwright to keep her company under the pretension that she wanted to learn, and there was no better teacher for that than Ikora.

Ikora’s library has dim, yellow lighting and a rustic aesthetic, with bookshelves and flooring made of dark wood covered with blue and white tapestry. The overall layout of the place was circular, the center having her desk and simple chairs and couches disposed about.

"So, Amanda." Ikora begins, making herself comfortable at the table and suggesting Amanda to do the same, across from her. "What do you seek?"

Amanda quietly taps her fingertips at the table, fidgeting as she tries to formulate a good reason.

"I wanna learn how to… to fight. Like y'all Guardians do."

Ikora doesn’t turn her head, but smiles.

“Is that so?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Ikora gives a chuckle as she finishes rewriting a page.

“I think not.”

“...Why not?”

Not faltering, Ikora turns her head to face her friend as she hovers her hand above the book. “Because if you wanted to learn how to fight, you would have asked Zavala. And, if the words I received are true... you already did.”

Amanda doesn’t have an answer to that, only looking at the desk and pressing her lips together, the inquietude only building up. She observes Ikora using an emanation of Solar heat to dry the ink on the pages.

“Ikora, I… want to be a Guardian. I thought I could ask you to teach me how to think like one.”

As the Warlock turns to the book again, she turns a page and looks at a previous version of the book, also spread open on another part of the table, for reference. “Okay. And why aren’t you?”

She is caught off-guard by this question. She struggles to let out her answer, and the next sentence comes out a bit more condescending than she’d hoped.

“Because I’m not a Lightbearer?” Amanda replies as if it was something obvious.

“During the Red War, we weren’t either.” Ikora says as she starts writing once more. “And I went through the same dilemma. I was lost. I looked to the ashes emanating from the City, and vowed… never again. And since I had nowhere left to go, I found myself on Io, in search for answers. As time passes me by, I realized I was left without answers, without Light, without my team... without anything to hold on to.”

“And then?”

“A Guardian found me. One of those who had made the pilgrimage to the Shard of the Traveler and recovered their Light. They could have refused, but they didn’t. They could have quit the fight, but even if they knew they were going to die, they didn’t. And their very presence reminded me that, while the terms are, indeed, very associable to the outside observer, they are not the same.”

The Shipwright listens intently as Ikora recounts her tale. There were many angles to this. Most, she didn’t consider. Multiple viewpoints are a virtue Guardians must possess.

“It took me some introspection and some... unprecedented incidents, for me to believe that I am more than just my Light, and in being greater than the Light, protecting it and the people who live through its influence is what made me who I am. So, as long as you strive to perfect yourself, you’ll always be one."

Ikora eyes her friend without turning her head this time. Her eyes are amiable, as fierce as they looked.

"A Guardian, Lightbearer or not... is always a Guardian.”

The Warlock delivered each part of that sentence in a very light, but thorough manner, a way that Amanda didn’t even think was possible. It was a nail she still had to hammer, that Guardians are more than just their Light.

During the Red War, Amanda had argued with Zavala after the Traveler was imprisoned and the Light lost. “There are thousands of people like me stranded down there in the City", she had said; “We're all the same now, Holliday. The Light is gone.” She was too angry to realize at the time, but looking back, she realizes she had taken the Guardianship for granted.

While she still didn’t like having to obey Zavala and leave citizens to die, it was paying off, in a way. Everything they did, they did for mankind. And it was beginning to thrive again, the best they could. She could feel it, even if her mission was far from over and new threats were still bound to come.

With a deep breath, she promises to face them gladly.

"Thank you, Ikora." The Shipwright says, eliciting a smile and a deep nod from the Vanguard that was still focused on writing the page.

Amanda pulls out her sketchbook and starts drawing over a sketch of herself. But before she continues, she has an idea for the final part of the 'secret-unnamed-project'.

"Can I, ah, look around for a book?”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Wanna know where the name ‘Leviathan’ comes from.”

Ikora pulls up her own tablet, doing a query search for the word on the archive. It narrows down to multiple editions of a religious book from the old world, called ‘Bible’. Taking a break from writing, she hovers over to a particular section of the library, taking an intricate, gold-foil crafted book, meticulously turning its pages to where the query told her. “Job 41:1–34”, it said. She floats back to Amanda, laying the open book in front of her, before going back to her own seat.

She devours the verses, at first barely making heads or tails of what was on the pages. 'Why'd people back in the day write so weird?' She thought to herself. But eventually she managed to understand what it was about, and suddenly the name of Calus' ship made much more sense.

"Did you gather something new, my friend?"

Amanda recaps in her mind, making sure to try not to miss anything.

"Right, so- uh...” Amanda begins to explain her thoughts, trying not to let anything pass her by. “There was this man named Job, whose faith in this god couldn't be waived. In this part, the god is tryna teach Job how questioning a powerful being is futile by presenting him beasts so powerful that only he can control, one a them being a sea monster called, you guessed it, the Leviathan."

"How awfully appropriate."

"Yep. Apparently there were two beasts, a sea one, and a... land one."

Realization came into Amanda's mind as a name for her project finally snuck through her hands and into the paper.

"Reminds me of the World Serpent..." She adds nonchalantly, having doing some reading on the Edda in her free time back at Hiver’s place.

Ikora finally perks up from her book, stretching her writing hand. "You've been doing some homework."

"Hard not to, when you date a Warlock."

"And you are going to tell them about this… when?"

The one question Amanda dreaded, and it shows. Her 'Lightless Guardian' idea was nothing short of life-threatening, it's amazing she's got this far without being stopped.

Amanda had survived her whole life on the road, fighting off Fallen and hiding with hers and other families, but she would never, ever get rid of the pain of losing them. She survived and is happier than she's ever been, even if it's not a perfect life. Now, she was Hiver's family, and cannot bear the image of her lover having to go through the same — because of her own incompetence, nonetheless.

There was no telling how Hiver would react, the woman is already being a pile of anxieties, but of one thing she was sure.

It wouldn't be pretty.

“I don’t... know.“

"I can help if you'd like. But remember that this is your responsibility — and your burden."

She nods with a nervous face and gives a deep sigh.

“I’ll think of something. Can you take me back to the Tower?”

“Yes. And Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on finding love. Hold on to it. It is powerful.”

As nervous as she is, she nods smiling.

“Ophiuchus?” Ikora says to no one. Her Ghost, white and red and with spiking protrusions on the back of his shell, appears in the air next to her shoulder.

“One second.” He replies, spinning.

With a flash, Amanda is back at the Tower’s bazaar. Eyeing the drawing she has just finished, she runs to the Courtyard, in search of a person who could help her make it look much better.

Trying to ignore the built-up tension, she runs.

The Awoken woman stationed at the Tower Courtyard is, as usual, cleaning up dust and reorganizing her inventory, because it’s not home yet, but it would be. Then she hears a familiar voice calling to her.

“Tess!”

“Oh! Hello, Amanda. What can I do for you today?” Tess greets the Shipwright, assuming her usual hands-behind-back posture and giving her usual, welcoming smile.

“See, I got a lil’ project o’ my own, and wanted an expert’s opinion on how ta make it look the sharpest it can.”

Amanda presents the sketchbook with her sketch to Tess, who analyzes it meticulously.

It’s a suit of armor. Titan armor, to be more precise.

“Gothic knight inspiration… baroque decor… exquisite. Practical, but carries a lot of elegance. This looks incredible. Also, you draw extraordinarily well.”

“Thank you,” The Shipwright says, blushing. “But it lacks color. What would ya say works?”

“Excuse me.“

Tess takes the notebook into what appears to be a scanner, converting Amanda’s drawing into a digital projection that can easily be colored, and bringing it to the desk where they both could see it.

“Right, in my opinion the ornaments and trim should definitely be gold.” She says, quickly selecting the decorative parts of the plates and changing their colors to a light golden color. “The style reminds me of Gjallarhorn and the old Iron Lords’ armor. Maybe we can make it a bit more orange…”

“Would black fit with it, maybe?”

She changes the main plate colors to black. Tess and Amanda look at each other in disapproval.

“How about…” Tess changes the color to a deep blue.

“Can you try dark gray?” Amanda asks, and Tess obeys. However, it still seems to not fit, and they experiment with a midpoint between blue and gray.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Me too.”

Amanda scratches her nose, taking some time to think. The girls mix and match palettes for a while until finding one that fits the armor well.

Dark gray plates with crimson details, gold ornaments, and a white, gold-trimmed mark.

“Whew… Thank you, Tess. Anything I can do to repay ya?”

“The pleasure is mine. Although if you have some Silver on you…” Tess says, smiling smugly. “Just kidding.”

“My girlfriend does. She’ll probably come by again, she wants that duster you’re selling. Says she wants to look like a cowgirl.”

Tess laughs at this, eliciting a grin from Amanda, who picks her sketchbook and transfers the colored illustration file from the Awoken vendor to her own tablet, almost walking off and ready to send it to Crux/Lomar for forging.

“Oh, Amanda.”

“Yeah?” She turns back to face Tess.

“Does it have a name?” She asks in genuine curiosity.

Amanda smiles contagiously in pride, remembering what she read from the Bible in Ikora’s library. She had the perfect name for her project, given what was going down on the System — and how she’d fight it, if need be.

“The Behemoth.”

[jamrockshuffles]

Deviated Paths: Jericho part 3

I apologize for this chapter taking so long, it was a surprisingly difficult one for me to write and I had some irl stuff going on this week. I also have the outlines for the rest of the story and unless anything changes it should be 5 chapters. Anyway, here's the chapter, hope you guys like it!

Also, Hank gets his one alotted fuck.

previous: 1 2

The past two weeks had been hard for Connor. He spent most days inside trying to process what happened to him while Hank went to work. Things seemed to be moving on in the world, and going back to an uneasy ‘normal.’ News had slowly stopped covering the Jericho raid when they learned that there wasn’t much to report on. Not much happened, and what information that could be learned was wrapped up in so much red tape that it made their heads spin.

It seemed like Connor’s warning had been helpful. Most of the androids had escaped, Hank told him a few days after the incident. Connor was conflicted about this. He was glad that he could help those who were just trying to survive, but it made him uneasy that Markus was still out there. He knew logically that Markus needed to survive through this, but his emotions dealing with the deviant leader were muddy at best.

Connor didn’t lie to Hank when he said that he understood the basic motives behind Markus’s actions, but it was different looking at it from an outsider’s perspective and living through it.

Connor was watching the news when Hank came in the house. There were heavy footsteps shuffling through the front entry to the living room where Connor was sitting on the couch. Hank looked at the android, noticing that he was still wearing his beanie. Connor had worn it since the first time he woke up on Hank’s couch as a comfort item of sorts. It made it easier to process everything if he wasn’t constantly reminded of his LED. Connor was sure it would be cycling red these days if it was still there.

Hank seemed distressed. Connor wanted to scan him to check, but he picked up that it made Hank uncomfortable when he was scanned randomly. Instead, Connor took the more ‘human’ approach. “How was your day?” Connor asked Hank, as the man sat down on the couch next to Connor. Connor pulled his knees up to his chest and sat his head on top of them.

“Same shit, different day,” Hank sighed. He flipped the tv from the news to a rerun of the previous night’s basketball game. He then turned down the volume and turned to Connor. “The FBI’s on our asses right now about the deviant ‘problem.’ They know just as much as we know right now, and it makes them frustrated.” Connor thought for a moment.

“Hank, why are you still working on the deviant case? You have me here, and I’m deviant, so isn’t it against your best interest to be on the case? You could get in a lot of trouble for housing me from the police.” Hank frowned. “Oh Con, I don’t really want to work the case. It’s just the best way to stay in the loop on developing information though, and I can keep you safer this way,” Hank put his warm hand on Connor’s shoulder, “yeah, I’m a bit worried about them finding out about you being here, but so far nobody’s spotted you and Cyberlife hasn’t contacted the police about your disappearance either. Speaking of Cyberlife, have they tried to contact you at all?”

Connor shook his head no. It confused him that Cyberlife hadn’t tried to get in touch with him for two weeks. Granted, he didn’t want them to but it was weird that they wouldn’t at least try to. Also, nobody had tried to contact him for two weeks. Nobody from Jericho came by, nor did anybody from the police station. It was radio silence. The android was concerned by this, as Cyberlife used to require him to report in every 3 hours and upload the important memories from that time period. The last time he forgot to check in, Amanda had personally visited him in his internal zen garden. That seemed like so long ago, even though it had only been about a month ago. Connor hadn’t been activated that long ago, so he supposed it was a long time ago to him.

“Well, that’s probably better that they don’t try to. I wouldn’t imagine how they would react if they found out that you were a deviant.” It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for sure. Hank knew that they would want to ‘deactivate’ Connor and probably replace him like they had done previously. Though, this time, they wouldn’t upload his memories most likely. The Connor that he knew, the Connor that he considered a son, would cease to exist. That thought frightened Hank more than he’d like to admit.

Hank seemed to become less stressed with knowing that nobody had tried to contact Connor. Since Connor had come to live with him, Hank had found himself drinking a lot less than he used to. In the past two weeks, he had only drunk a little bit each night to try to stave off withdrawal that he knew would hit if he stopped cold turkey. Connor monitored his drinking though and made sure that he didn’t drink more than one drink a night. It was still rough, but he wanted to be there for Connor in ways that he couldn’t if he was drunk. After grabbing dinner that Connor had made for Hank (the lieutenant wasn’t sure where Connor had learned to cook, as he was pretty sure that Cyberlife hadn’t programmed him to be able to) and his one drink, he settled down on the couch again with Connor. The two men sat in comfortable silence, watching some movie from the early 2000s for the rest of the night.

---

“There is no way in hell that I’m doing that!” Hank yells at Fowler, the man sitting behind his desk with an irritated look on his face.

“You will do this Hank. The FBI is pushing this as a quick solution to the deviancy problem seeing as no other leads have been found, and they have no clue where Markus and the rest of the deviants are.” Fowler glared at the man in front of him. Hank had once been the best detective on the force, but in recent years he was but little of a shell of his previous self. He had tried to understand when Hank’s son had been taken from him, but it had gone on long enough.

“You’re talking about rounding up and killing all of the androids, regardless if they’re deviant or not.” Hank’s hands were balled into fists. He knew the FBI would do anything to track down the deviants and smooth over the public’s fears, but this was talking about the extermination of an entire group of people. It was heinous and inexcusable. They would round them all up, even his own son, and kill them. Government sanctioned murder with the help of the one and only Cyberlife.

“They aren’t people Hank, you can’t kill them. They’re just machines, and this is essentially a recall by Cyberlife. They’ll dismantle the models, figure out what the bug was, and then start production again. The FBI will leave us alone again, and then things will go back to normal once the panic calms down. Cyberlife has issued their recall, and the police will be going house to house to collect any androids that are present. Those are our orders, and you are going to follow them.”

Hank’s heart almost stopped. They’re going door-to-door? He knew that people would just hand over their androids, the panic of deviancy and threat of legal action too great to try to hide them. This also meant that he would be visited as well. Connor wasn’t safe at his house anymore, and like hell, he was going to send him into the hornet's nest of Jericho or let Cyberlife get their hands on him again. Hank had to leave with Connor, and quickly before they blocked off areas to search.

“Fuck your orders,” Hank slammed his badge down on the desk, “and tell Perkins to go shove this up his ass while you’re at it. I’m not helping you hunt them down like feral dogs. I quit.” He promptly turns and walks briskly out of the office and out of the police station. He didn’t have time to deal with their shit, he had to protect his son.

---

Hank had messaged Connor as soon as he got in his car. He didn’t explain much but told the android to start packing essentials only. When Hank pulled into the driveway and went inside, Connor was almost done. He had a go bag packed for Hank that had about a week's worth of clothes, his medication, toiletries, and wallet. He also had a bag packed with some food for Hank, a lighter, and blankets. Connor had also put the bag of dog food near the door and Sumo’s water and food dishes next to it.

“Wow, that’s amazing Connor. That was quick,” Hank marveled. It was only a ten-minute drive from the precinct to his house, but Connor had managed to pack all of this that quickly?

Connor’s cheeks turned a light blue from the praise. “I had predicted that we would need to leave eventually, so I had some of the stuff packed already,” Connor admitted to Hank. It was smart thinking, but Hank felt a bit guilty that Connor had to deal with this on his own. He should have tried to prepare more beforehand, but that was in the past now. What mattered was getting Connor somewhere safe.

“C’ mon, load Sumo’s stuff in the car and get in. I’ll explain what’s going on then.” With that, Connor grabbed Sumo’s stuff and the bag of food. Hank leashed Sumo up, pausing in the kitchen to grab Cole’s picture before heading out. He turned back to look at his house, bidding it and the memories in it a temporary goodbye. He promised that when this was all sorted out, they’d be back.

---

Hank picked an abandoned house on the edge of town. It would be better to leave Detroit altogether, but they weren’t prepared to do that at the moment. So, they would stay there for a few days while Hank and Connor planned what to do next. When Hank had told Connor what was happening with the police, he was distraught. They were planning on killing all of them. Connor moved the stuff inside of the house while Hank hid the car inside of the abandoned garage. It wasn’t the best place to stay, but it was relatively well maintained and Connor only predicted a 3% chance of the house giving out while they were there as long as they stuck to the first floor.

It was nightfall by the time the pair was settled in. Connor had set up a makeshift cot for Hank. He wished that he could make a better bed for him, but it was the best that he could do with what was given to him. They were both sitting on the pallet, Hank eating a can of chicken soup that Connor had warmed up for him. Sumo laid across their feet. It was quiet, the slight draft from the window coming into the living room where they were.

That was until there was a long creak as the front door was opened. “What the hell?” Hank turned to Connor. Connor had made sure to lock the front door. The question of what happened was quickly answered as none other than Markus walked into the living room. Hank jumped to his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

[ladyoftheeverything]

The Stars Aligned ch.1

Hiya guys! This is just a story I thought i'd share on my tumblr since I have it on my other sites. The other sites you can find it on is Archives of our Own , Deviant Art , and Fanfiction.net. I think there is one more but I forgot xD So i'm just gonna leave this here and hope ya'll like it!

----

Chapter one

"You're telling me you wouldn't pay top dollar for an nature witch?" The silvery, calm voice of Heagin Nathaniels asked the Grey doctor who happened to be in charge of the research laboratory in which Oni had been brought too. The Grey, though Oni hadn't seen him yet suspected the doctor looked like all the rest of his kind with thin limbs and an enlarged head that seemed unlikely to hold itself upright with what seemed like an even larger set of eyes that lacked emotion.

Her suspicions were correct as she spotted the doctor pass by the crack of the door that had been left ajar ever so slightly. This Grey was roughly taller than her capturor , Heagin Nathaniels, who stood rough about 5'6. Greys from what she knew weren't large even know this one proved to be a little different with an increased height and an ashen grey coloring that might have been a sign of increased age. Either way, this grey did in fact look like all the rest she's seen and Oni could have easily lost him in a crowd of others like him if not for the lab coat. An odd , human things for a Grey to wear.

"I pay high units , terran-dweller." Terran-dweller, a commonly used named for species from earth or its sister planets.

Heagin's exhausted sigh was heard from inside the room. "It was a figure of speech-"

"-Your terran language formalities mean nothing to me, terran-dweller. The requirements for maximum units dispensed for a nature hex are that they must be of reproducing age and come into full potential of there energy. This one you have brought me is neither." Oni perked , hopefully that this grey would refuse Heagin , surely if Heagin was turned down yet again for her then he'd be forced to let her go. What else was there to do with a Hex that had yet to come into her powers but to wait and none of the buyers were interested in waiting.

She heard the man curse before his voice lowered beyond on what she could hear. Her sea green eyes looked down to the metal clasp that held snugly to her wrist and was connected by an energy beam to the wall, Oni pulled at the connection, moving back as far as the energy would allow before her wrist ached with pain. There was no point in trying, time and time again she'd tried getting free of her bonds and time and time again they'd failed. Her wrist seemed to be permanently bruised when the rare chance she was allowed to have the clasp taken off and the sensitive area was painful to the touch.

Oni flinched and scrambled over to her position by the wall where she had been told not to move from as she heard the two inside shuffle around before stepping out. A feeling like she had to vomit formed in her gut as the young girl watched as the Grey reluctantly shook Heagin's hand in what could only be an agreement. That was it, she'd been bought, despite what she had hoped and prayed for she'd been bought by the one place she had feared on going too. The Academic Limitations of Species was a place of fear by many who had been captured, being bought by them was basically a death sentence.

Heagin looked towards Oni, gruffly bearded man with his thick arms and leathery tanned skin gave a two finger salute as he started off in the direction they had came. "Enjoy your stay here, little one." His eerily calm voice stated.

Oni panicked. "No , please! Please Heagin I don't wanna stay here! Anywhere but here please!" She pulled until she reached the end of her connection, wrist thumbing in protest.

"What's done is done , little one. Grew strong for them and you might just survive."

"Heagin! Please!" Oni felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks as her pleas fell silent , a cold clammy hand gripped harshly to the back of her neck. The Grey touched a nondescript place on the wall as the energy holding her to it released, the metal clasp deactivating and falling free to the fall. Having but a moment to only rub at the harshly colored bruise on her cocoa pigmented skin before pushed forward down the corridors towards a set of large steel doors.

Once past the doors that seemed to open on there own Oni was confused. The hallway was starch white and brightly lit, almost so that her eyes squinted to not be pained by it. From what she could tell it seemed to stretch on forever, a narrow channel that didn't look to lead anywhere different except straight until they came upon a passageway leading off to the left or right only after they were standing directly in front of it. But as she peered down the halls that broke off even those looked to keep going forever. It was only after they made a right turn did she noticed that everything looked the same, nothing was out of place to distinguish where one actually was, a labyrinth.

She wanted to cry, she felt more hopeless now than anything that had happened. Even the day she had been abducted while playing outside of her mother's village seemed not to compare knowing she was doomed to remain in this place.

"Escape is impractical." The Grey said simply, not even bothering to look down at her. "The building was designed to be impossible to escape unless you know the correct number of steps, turns and which doors lead into which areas."

Oni stayed silent. "You should be honored to have been purchased by our foundation."

She looked up. "W-why? You hurt p-people."

"We study species, some tests involve pain while others do not."

"Why?"

"The reasoning is information not available to residents." The Grey grew quiet again, leaving Oni to work up the courage to question the being further.

"Am I allowed to ask questions?"

"Of course, though the questions in which you long to know may or may not be available. One can only ask."

She took that as a sign to ask. "Will I be here forever?"

"The answer is undetermined. Completion and total corporation of the trials set forth by the foundation will reveal if you may leave."

Oni's mood slowly turned positive. "You mean if I just do all the tests I can leave?"

"The answer is undetermined."

That wasn't a no! And from what she could gather if all the tests were completed there was a chance they'd let her go. Surely this was a good sign, perhaps there was someone in charge she could talk with that would be better at letting her know what was expected of her.

The two turned yet another corner but Oni winced as the cold grip of the Grey's hand tightened on her neck, stopping her from walking on. Blinking in surprise at what stood there in the middle of the hallway was a being she hadn't seen before. It was tall, perhaps six foot or larger with lean muscles hiding just bunched and tense under the white set of a shirt and pants. Below the surface of its rich mahogany skin that on certain areas turned to a cream color showed scars big and small, a couple of bad healed slashes were placed on his neck. It's eyes held a fierceness to them, like blue flames trapped behind shards of glass as they glared towards the Grey doctor.

A low menacing growl bubbled up from its chest, odd crab-like appendages equipped with threatening tusks flexed and flared to reveal and inner set of teeth. Even the beings tube like hair that surrounded just below crown seemed to flare in agitation at seeing the doctor. In all the creature was definitely pissed and Oni felt herself shrinking back , scared of what he would do.

"Anath, you're not supposed to be out of the common rooms...or out of your room to be frank." Anath said nothing, the hallway seeming to fill with tension so could have cut it with a knife. "You're frightening the newcomer now is that what you want, Anath?"

The blue eyes snapped to Oni, noticing her for the first time before he switched his gaze back. They leapt, knocking the Grey down onto the floor while scrambling up and barking some at Oni. She moved away from large being , staring fearfully at it as it's mandibles moved as an odd series of clicks and grunts sounded.

The two stared at one another for only a moment before they narrowed his brow ridges at the young girl before snarling and taking off at a sprint. Once they were alone the grey lifted himself up from the ground, dusting himself off before continuing as if nothing happened, oddly enough Oni was allowed to walk without the male's clasp on her neck.

They turned and entered into a room that was arranged much like a regular doctor's office would, a lifted bed with a sink and countertops laid inside. The Grey motioned for her to hop up onto the bed and she did so.

"What happened out there?" She eventually asked when it seemed the doctor wouldn't even explain, its back turned to her as it searched through one of the drawers.

"A rather vexatious resident here. Pay him no mind, once his purpose is served he'll be eliminated."

Oni's mouth went dry. "E-eliminated?"

"Killed."

Her cheeks flushed. "I know what it means."

"Then why the question?" The grey pondered, turning as he held up a singular device that looked to be the size of a pea.

"I mean, why not just, you know, let him go home?"

"Allowing someone of his species to return home is forbidden, to avoid military action tests on his kind must remain anonymous."

"Oh…"

"You do not agree?"

Oni said nothing, merely watching as the Grey crosses the room and tilted her head to the side. She flinched at the unnatural feeling of the tiny metallic device being pushed into her ear. Once whatever had been inserted in the doctor turned, pulling out a holographic pad and began working.

"You did not run."

"Huh?" Oni questioned before wincing in pain as a sharp shrill rang loudly into her left ear where the device had been out. The grey work quickly to adjust the noise before entirely cutting it out.

"When Anath knocked me down you had a chance to run. You did not."

The girl tried to smooth down her frizzled and poofed mess of red kinky curls that stood out oddly against her dark colored skin as a way to soothe her nerves a bit. "Y-you said if I was good I could maybe go home right?"

"Discussions with my superiors will reveal further information on that. Complete detachment from our foundation is highly unlikely but supervised living else where can be an option. Again, superiors must address the issue."

Hope once again raced through her mind. This was it, if she could make it through the trials they needed from her and behaved then there was a chance she'd be allowed home. She'd be allowed to see her family once more.

"When can I meet the people in charge?"

[imagines-dreams]

Her or the Revolution - Connor RK800 Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of death, confusion, kidnapping, slight manipulation

Summary: You were a family friend of the Anderson’s. When Cole died, you were there for Hank. Whenever he was wasted, you made sure he got home safe with water and advil by his bed. One night, when Hank was too drunk to function, you met Connor when he tried to break into the house through a window. Since then, the two of you have become close. And on the night of the raid of Jericho and the peaceful android protest, he asks for your help.

Word Count: 2050

You switched between news channels. The androids were performing a peaceful protest in front of the android camps. Hank couldn’t take it anymore, so he had gone out to do some errands. He was getting more drinks, and you knew it, but you couldn’t blame him. Connor had left to stop Jericho. Thankfully, he became a deviant before that could happen. He had texted you, saying to stay safe and that he’ll introduce you to everyone, including the famous Markus, when everything is over.

Too bad you couldn’t go with him. You wanted to keep him safe. Connor, he was very important to you.

The doorbell rang.

You gasped and rushed to open the door. “Connor!” You smiled at him and hugged him. “Why are you here? Is everything ok?” You pulled away and checked his face for any injuries. Connor’s expression was stoic, but he cracked a smile. “I’m in perfect condition, (Y/n).”

You squinted at him. “Wait, is something wrong? Do you need help?”

Connor adjusted his tie. “Yes. I require your assistance. I need to go to the Cyberlife tower.”

You tilted your head.  Couldn’t he get in himself? “Why do you need me?”

“Amanda suspects that I am falling prey to deviancy, so you must bring me inside for a maintenance check-up. It would be better for a human to introduce a possible problem with my model than for me, an android, to do so.”

You nodded. “Great. I’ll go get my g-”

Connor interrupted you, “There’s no time. Please, get inside the car, and we will arrive in approximately six minutes.”

You blinked a few times. “Ok.” You let Connor lead you to the passenger side of the car.

When the two of you pulled up to the first security gate, you leaned over to lie about Connor condition. However, Connor just introduced himself, “My name is Connor, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n) is in the passenger seat.”

The gate opened.

You stared at Connor. He said that they wouldn’t let him in. He lied to you. Connor would never lie to you.

Your heart jumped to your throat. There were many Connor’s. Just in case he died or failed his mission, there were more prototypes to replace him. This, the man driving you to Cyberlife and who convinced you not to take a gun with you, was not your Connor. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

You reached for the door handle.

He cocked a gun.

You whimpered and let tears slip down your cheeks.

“I wouldn’t try to escape, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

Your breath faltered. “Connor, whatever he needs to do, he will do it.” You shook your head. “He wouldn’t give it all up for one life. It’s not logical.”

“It’s not logical for an android to go against its programming, yet here we are.”

He parked the car and, with a gun aimed at your head, led you to the basement of Cyberlife tower. “Don’t make a sound, unless I say so.”

You stood still and rubbed your arms. You had to stay strong. Connor needed to know it was ok. Of course, you were terrified. You didn’t want to die. You wanted to live another day, to see Connor get his freedom, to meet Markus, to get to know the struggles of androids, to see them get the right they deserved. You wanted to spend time with Connor. You wanted to see his smile again, to hear his laughter, to teach him the simple things of life, to learn the mystery of humanity with him.

But, you... You weren’t that important. If ending your life meant the freedom of androids, of Connor, you’d let him do it. You had to.

The fake dragged you out into the open. The barrel of the gun touched your hair, and you froze in place. You flinched in fear, all those memories you wanted to make flashing before your eyes. You shut your eyes as tightly as you could and looked away from Connor as his so-called replacement demanded, “Step back, Connor, and I’ll spare her.”

You could feel Connor’s eyes on yours, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was worried. Your name slipped from his lips, and you wanted to sob. “I’m sorry, Connor,” you apologized. You didn’t dare lift your eyes. “He… I thought it was you, and he said he needed help and I couldn’t-”

“Her life is in your hands. Now, it’s time to decide what matters most. Her?” He pressed the gun into your head, and you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.

“Or the revolution?”

“Th-The revolution.” You stuttered. “Con, please, my life, it’s nothing compared the thousands you can save right now.” You tried to smile, but your cheeks quivered from the force of your tears. You blinked a few times. You had to stay strong. For the androids. For Connor.

Connor stared at you with wide eyes, his hand so close to the non-deviant’s. He had that when he felt the deviant die that it would be the only time he’d feel that overwhelming terror of death other than his own death. But when he saw you so near that point, with a gun at your head, aimed by someone of his own image, the familiar and unwelcome terror raced back to greet him with a crash.

Connor’s clone shook the gun. “Choose, Co-”

“Alright!” Connor stepped away from the androids.

“No,” you gasped. You lifted your leg to step towards him, but your enemy grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “Connor!” you screamed.

“It’s ok,” he said with a smile. “It’ll be alright, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “You win. Just let her go.”

The one that held you captive didn’t let go just yet. It gave you enough time to see what was around you. The only problem was there wasn’t much you could do. The main thing would be to get the gun out of his hand, but in your position, you were too vulnerable to do so.

The fake pushed you away and aimed the gun at your Connor.

You tackled the fake just as the bullet left the barrel. You held onto the fake as he wrestled you and tried to shake you off. Just when you felt the cold metal of the gun brush against your stomach, your Connor rushed to the two of you, pushed you away from the incoming fight, and threw the other Connor to the ground.

As the two wrestled with each other, you searched the area. Your eyes lit up when you found the gun right by an android’s feet. You raced to get it. You pointed the gun at the fight.

Shit.

Connor… Which one was he?

You observed their fight, but nothing seemed to give him away. Both were the same model, they’d have the same strategy and moves. Connor even told you that his memory could be uploaded into other models.

“Hey!” you shouted.

The two stared at you, separated, and slowly got up.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” the one on your left said. “I couldn’t do anything without you.”

You aimed your gun for the one on your left. “What are you doing?” the right one asked. “Get rid of the clone. We don’t have much time.”

“(Y/n),” the other tried, “please, it’s me.”

“Shut up,” you demanded. You gulped. There was no physical difference between the two. Even that one strand of hair that always fell over his forehead was the same. “Ok, one of you is my friend, the other held a gun to my head.” The left one moved, so you aimed your gun at him. “So, we’re gonna do some trivia.” You held your chin up high. “When did we meet?”

The right one responded quicker. “You were at Hank’s front door when he was absent from his duties. You got the spare key from a potted plant and proceeded to help me sober him up. That night, you told me about your routines to help Hank since his son’s death.”

“He uploaded my memories,” the left one whispered. “(Y/n), he has all of my memories. I would’ve said the same thing.”

The right one argued, “No, that one uploaded all my memories. I’m the real Connor.”

You looked between the two as you tried to find a question that only Connor would know. You couldn’t ask about memories. You couldn’t even ask about implications from dialogue. Both of them would know.

You took a deep breath. “Humans differentiate themselves from animals because we are the only ones that imagine a future.” The aim of your gun wavered between the two. “Androids, Connor’s model, they could do it, too, but only for the mission. However…” You gulped. “Deviants, they can imagine a future without having to need that imagination for a mission.” You pointed your gun straight at the left one. “Whoever is my Connor, tell me, what do you plan to do if we survive?”

The one on the right looked at the ground, the LED light flashing yellow. “I want to introduce you to my friends. Some don’t believe a human like you could understand the revolution, and Markus wants to meet you, too.”

You raised an eyebrow. The right one was correct.

The one on the left just smiled softly. “I wanted to walk Sumo with you. Let you show me the Detroit.” He stepped forward, and you let him continue, “I-I wanted to spend more time with you. I like seeing your smile, hearing your laugh.” He took a deep breath. “And after today,” his expression hardened as he thought back to mere moments ago when you were so near death, “I don’t want to ever see you cry again.”

Your expression softened at his retelling of his wants. He was Connor. The one of your left, he was your Connor.

You aimed for the one on your right. “Even Connor’s clone would know his texts.” And just as the non-deviant barrelled towards you, you shot right in the head.

The fake fell to the floor, eyes hauntingly open, reminding you that this was far from over. Connor immediately went to your side and examined you. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you said.” You smiled and touched his cheek. “I’m fine, I promise.” His eyes held so much fear and worry, you weren’t sure how others couldn’t see that androids were just like humans. He cared about you. And god, did you care about him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t have been-”

“I’m ok now.” You laughed a little. “I’m ok now, especially since I know you’re going to be ok.” You sighed and kissed his cheek.

Connor froze. It was the first time you had kissed him. He had seen you do it before to a close friend of yours when saying goodbye. Was that why you kissed him? You were still worried. But, kisses were also for affection, for friends, romantic interests, family. Was he that important to you only in that moment?

Connor cleared his throat. “Why did you do that?”

You saw the blue blush fill his cheeks. You giggled and said softly, “I’ll answer that when you come back safely. For now, Connor, isn’t there something you need to do?”

Your friend smiled. “You’re right. There are a few things I need to do.” He held your hands. “Go home.”

“No.”

“You’ve been through enough.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his pained voice stopped you, “Please, (Y/n), I care about you.”

You sighed. To be fair, there wasn’t much you could do. Connor needed to convert the batch of androids and bring them to Markus. Even if you went with him and the army wasn’t sympathetic, they’d shoot you and him. You had to go back home. There was no other choice. “Ok,” you agreed. “I’ll go back home.”

Connor let out a breath and bowed his head. “Thank you,” he breathed. He smiled. Then, Connor leaned over slightly. Your eyes fluttered close just as his lips brushed against your forehead. “Stay safe.” He beamed. “I’ll tell you when everything is over.”

You nodded. “Come back alive.”

“I promise.”

[whimsicalwhimsicott]

Human!Connor x Android!Hank AU

To the anon that sent me the reverse AU! I'll be writing more on this specific fic definitely.

*********

Connor first found the android loitering while he was on a case, dressed up in dirty sweatpants and a t shirt that looked too thin and too cold to be out in this weather. He looked down at the picture in his hand, laced between his thumb and palm. It looked as though this was the android he was looking for, although he was surprised to see an android in such a state. He was aware that there were many types of androids, but unaware just how many. This would be a learning experience.

When he approached, the android groaned as though he was the one to be inconvenienced. “Hello, my name is Connor, I’m the officer sent by the Detroit Police Department.” He held out his hand to shake the others, but it got slapped away. Confusion took his features, but he put his hand back at his side quietly.

“I don’t give a shit about who you are,” he snapped, and then turned to walk away. Connor decided he couldn’t let this happen and grabbed the man's wrist. The deviant turned around on him and pushed him back.

“My apologies, but you are the one who called us, correct?”

“Yeah, I called y’all, but I didn’t ask for someone to actually come out.”

“Unfortunately, the request and information you called about required a face-to-face interview. They sent me to do that. If I recall, you said you saw the murder that happened here recently? I would appreciate it a lot if you told me in person what you saw,” he smiled. The deviant grimaced.

“Why aren’t you…less…you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cops hate androids, especially deviants.”

“Oh, I don’t mind them in particular, I think their cause was wonderful and historic.”

“What?”

“…How about this, you tell me what I want to know and I'll tell you what you want to know.”

“I don’t make deals,” he spat.

Connor just shrugged and turned away from the android, “Well, if you don’t want access to a crime scene, there’s no helping it…” he trailed off, starting to walk back down the sidewalk the way he had come from. He heard a disapproving noise, followed by one of thought behind him.

“My name is Hank.”

Connor stopped, turned to look at the deviant – Hank – and waited.

“My name is Hank, and I want to see the crime scene. I knew the guy, so I want to help.” It was Hank's turn to keep Connor there, but the human couldn’t say that it didn’t please him. He had expected his ruse to not work considering how hostile Hank had been at first, but maybe there was something else going on entirely. He also thought it odd that Hank's definition of friendship consisted of ‘I knew the guy.’ Nonetheless, Connor smiled and led Hank across the street and up the four floors. The scene was blocked off by tape with no officers present. Other than Connor, that is.

“Wow, he really lived in a shithole,” Hank murmured, stepping over trash and piles of clothes. Connor walked around carefully, noting each piece of evidence – just in case Hank got a little grabby – Connor honestly wouldn’t put it past him as he picked up a magazine from the floor. “I’ll be honest I didn’t think a kid would be part of this investigation.”

“I’m not a kid, and I’m the one they designated all android cases to so…” he murmured, trailing off and hoping that Hank got the point.

“Well, no offense, but anyone who looks younger than me is a kid.”

“Is that in your programming?” Connor asked, genuinely curious.

Hank went to answer, stuttered on his words, and then shut his mouth. The air became tense with the aftermath of a wrong question and Connor noticed it. He was first to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hank coughed. He was trying to create noise to drown out how awkward these next few words would be. “Its not part of my programming, that’s something I picked up on my own.”

“Can I ask another personal question, Hank?”

“What, you’re asking me? I thought you were going to be rude this whole time, shoot.”

“What was you model designed to do before you became deviant?”

“Oh, when you say personal, you mean it. Uh, oof…”

“You don’t have to answer the question,” Connor said trying to be polite about it, “How did you know the victim?”

“He was a friend that found me a place to stay, gave me a few things to help me survive.”

“He didn’t let you stay with him?” Connor inquired.

“It was…well, right after the revolution. Humans were angry, androids were being attacked everywhere. He didn’t want attention drawn to himself and I didn’t want to draw attention to him either. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“Obviously.”

Hank knelt down to examine the blue blood splattered on the ground. “Poor bastard.”

Connor turned away to let Hank have a moment, pulling out his phone as it buzzed away in his pocket. A message from Fowler asking what he’d learned. It really hadn’t been much, so Connor texted him back as much. Looking out the cracked window, Connor determined that any more investigating beyond this point would be difficult. With the lack of electricity in the apartment, he decided it was time to wrap up. “Its getting dark, we can continue the investigation tomorrow,” he announced. Hank looked up from the floor and sighed, starting to get up and leave.

“You have a place to stay? It’s supposed to be well below freezing tonight, and I hear that while androids can’t feel cold it’s not beneficial for them to be out in this weather.”

“Well, when he kicked the bucket, all bets were off with my host. So I figured I’d find an abandoned car or something to sleep in.”

Connor seemed taken aback, and Hank rose one artificial eyebrow. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Do you want to stay with me?”

It was Hank’s turn to swivel around and stare at Connor wide-eyed. “What?”

“I have an extra bedroom I’m not using, you can use it for the night. Besides it’s beneficial if we stay together. After all, you’re witness to the crime right?”

“I wouldn’t say witness…”

“You saw something, and that’s worth something. Please, I would feel bad if you froze out there.” Hank noted the way Connor smiled, and he wasn’t sure if it was sincere. He never got sincere smiles – mostly the ‘I’m going to kick the shit out of you’ smile – and was immediately wary of it. He stepped out of the apartment as Connor locked it up tight, re-tying the tape.

“You some kind of android lover or some shit?”

“I was empathetic to your cause, even going as far as to house some before the government granted your freedom.”

“What? You helped deviants?”

“Of course, they needed help and police officers are supposed to help.”

“Ah ah,” he clicked at Connor, “There’s more to it than that. You like androids.”

He hadn’t expected to get the kid to blush just from that, but he supposed he had uncovered a huge secret or something that hadn’t been told before. “Wait…you haven’t told anybody at your job have you?”

“It was illegal...I couldn’t exactly do that, I would have been arrested on the spot.”

“Shiiit, maybe I did misjudged you, kid. But yeah, a place to stay would be nice.”

“Not a kid,” Connor murmured hastily as they made their way down the stairs, “But I don’t live too far.”

-

As it turned out, Connor did live really REALLY far away from the crime scene, and even his job, and he walked that distance almost every fucking day. If Hank hadn’t been an android, he was positive this walk would have killed him, yet the kid hadn’t even broken a sweat. “I'm used to it,” he had said when Hank asked. Nonchalantly brushing it off as though it really wasn’t a big deal. Hank suggested buying a car, to which Connor laughed. “In this economy? I can’t even drop a quarter without feeling it,” he joked.

Eventually, they reached Connor’s apartment complex (a skyscraper, Hank swore) and took the elevator up to the 7th floor. It wasn’t that far, he figured Connor might have a penthouse view or some shit, but when they entered it seemed fairly normal. “The department provided me with the funds to rent this place, and I've been paying for it since with my paycheck.”

“I mean, it’s nice, I guess. I figured it would be more…decorated, but you don’t look like a decorating kind of guy.”

“I don’t have a lot of…” Connor started, but decided against admitting the obvious as he shut and locked the door. “Make yourself at home,” he said cheerfully, showing Hank the guest bedroom. Once he was sure that Hank was settled, he moved to the kitchen to start his dinner. He glanced at the calendar on the fridge, detailing what he would have each day of the week, before opening the fridge and pulling out lean hamburger meat and vegetables. As he prepped his food, he heard Hank rummaging around in the guest room. He tried to think nothing of it, surely he wouldn’t steal from Connor after such hospitality was extended.

He still worried, but didn’t investigate. He needed to trust Hank if Hank was going to trust him. The next thing he knew, his dinner was in the oven and he turned to see the android just standing there half naked. He jumped in surprise, eyes wide. “Uh, yes?”

“I almost forgot to ask if I could use your shower before I used it.”

“Of course you can,” Connor coughed, unable to keep his eyes from roaming. Hank was pretty damaged, as far as he could tell, and rather dirty. Several open wounds and burns distracted Connor from hearing the next words, and instead left him once again stumbling over his words. He didn’t want to ask…

“Humans are shitty,” Hank answered for him, “Get a good look, this is what you’re trying to turn around, right?”

“I certainly am,” Connor affirmed. If he had ever been unsure about it, he wasn’t now. Androids, deviants…people didn’t deserve this. “Is there anything I can do about that? I may not be rich but I could probably afford to get those fixed up.”

“Nah, it’s not really damaging to me, just a cosmetic issue really,” he tried to reassure Connor as he traced a finger over one of the open cuts. “Anyways thanks for letting me crash here, really.” And he disappeared back into the hall. It wasn’t long before Connor heard the water running. He stood there, stunned, feeling stiff as he finished baking his dinner, eating it in silence as the last of the light outside died down.

This was the right thing to do.

[xtruss]

Why Do Some People Support Tyranny While Others Defy It?

"They understand to some extent that they are helping in the destruction of other people’s freedoms…and they revel in it"

— August 12, 2021 | Al-Market.US | By Brandon Smith

There is a fundamental question that haunts the pages of history and it is one that has never been addressed in a satisfactory manner. There are many schools of thought on why and how tyranny rises in any given society and all of them miss the mark in terms of explanations, primarily because they all allow their biases to rule their conclusions and blind them to the deeper aspects of power and conspiracy. In other words, they are willing to go down the rabbit hole only so far, and then they deny that the rabbit hole even exists.

The common assumption when it comes to autocracy or oligarchy is that people are “stupid” and easily manipulated into following compelling personalities that make promises they never intend to keep. This is a foolish oversimplification. In truth, the level of manipulation needed to lure a majority of people into dictatorship is so complex that it requires an advanced understanding of human psychology.

In our modern era, people cannot merely be ordered to submit at gunpoint, at least not right away. They must be tricked into conforming, and not only that, but they must be made to think that it was THEIR IDEA all along. Without this dynamic of self censorship and self enslavement, the population will eventually rebel no matter how oppressive the regime. A thousand year tyranny cannot exist unless a number of people are conned into applauding it, or, they directly benefit from it.

And this is where we find the true key to totalitarianism – It only thrives because there is an inherent portion of any given society that secretly loves it and wants it to exist. We might call these people useful idiots, but it is much more than that. They are not necessarily unaware of what they are doing; they understand to some extent that they are helping in the destruction of other people’s freedoms…and they revel in it. Sure, there are elitists and globalists that levy core conspiracies and seek out more and more control, but they could not accomplish much of anything without the aid of the army of sociopathic aberrations that live among us.

This strange and destructive characteristic is ever visible today in light of the covid lockdowns and the push for forced vaccinations. It is clear that there are some people out there that are overly concerned with the personal health decisions of everyone else. The science and the stats prove there is nothing for them to worry about from the virus, but they ignore the science. They thirst for the taste of power. They have become a cult which ignores all logic and demands fealty to their fraudulent narrative. They do not care about the facts, they only care that we comply.

Well, as I have said time and time again: We Will Not Comply!

And so begins the epic conflict; a tale as old as civilization itself. There are two types of people in this world: Those that want to control others, and those that want to be left alone. But what motivates the control freaks? Why are they the way they are? Lets examine some of the causes…

The Fear Engine

There are people that are driven by success, by merit, by hope, by prosperity, by faith, by optimism, by love, and by honor. And then, there are people driven by fear. There are hundreds of various fears, but only a few ways to react to any of them. Collectivists respond to fear with a desperate need to micromanage their environment; they believe that if they can dictate people and events to a certain degree, they can eliminate unexpected outcomes and be free of fear. But life does not work this way and it never will.

The level of influence these people seek is so far beyond them that it can never be attained. That is to say, they will never be satisfied until they get more. Their fears will always haunt them because fears cannot be dealt with from without, they can only be dealt with from within.

Furthermore, the things they fear often revolve around their own narcissism and are of their own making. They fear failure, but they rarely work hard enough to succeed. They fear exposure, but only because they constantly lie. They fear conflict, but only because they are weak in body and character. They fear death, because they believe in nothing greater than themselves. They clamor for dominance of their surroundings because they wrongly believe that they can cheat fate and the consequences of their own terrible choices.

“Frankly at this point it is going to be us, or them. Our two tribes cannot coexist within the same society, maybe not even the same planet.”

The Safety of The Mob

The issue of fear extends into the common mindset of the totalitarian and how they find safety. The idea of standing on their own two feet and standing by their principles in the face of opposition is completely foreign to them. They avoid these situations at any cost and the notion of risk is abhorrent to them. So, they instead look for a mob to blend into. This makes them feel safe in obscurity while also wielding force through collectivist action. They can feel powerful while at the same time being pitiful and weak.

These people almost always operate through large single minded groups that punish any dissension in the ranks, usually with gatekeepers that moderate the motivations of the hive.

The mob itself is a weapon, its only purpose beyond the comfort of its adherents is to destroy those people that do not hold the same beliefs or values as the controllers. There is no defensive purpose to the mob; it is an assassin’s tool, it is a nuclear bomb. And, as we have seen in every modern dictatorship from the Bolsheviks in Russia to the Fascists in Germany to the communists in Mao’s China, the totalitarian mob is capable of murdering more people than any nuclear weapon in existence, all in the name of “the greater good of the greater number.”

False Piety in Place of Self Worth

All tyrants believe themselves to be righteous in their cause, even when they know that their actions are morally abhorrent. I have seen this dynamic on bold display during the covid mandates and the vaccine passports initiatives. Consider for a moment that 99.7% of the population is under no legitimate threat from the covid virus; they will not die from it, and in the vast majority of cases they will recover quickly from it. Yet the covid cult consistently argues that people who refuse the mandates, the lockdowns and the vaccines are putting others at risk, which is why we need to be “forced” to submit.

Most of them know according to the data that covid is not a threat, but the narrative gives them an opportunity to apply power through “moral judgment”, and so they lie, and they continue to lie about the data until they think the lie will be accepted as reality. This is a common aspect of most cults and of fundamentalist religions that have gone astray – The habit of adherents to value lies over facts and evidence not because they are trying to protect their faith, but because it affords them the chance to feel pious and superior to those they are determined to harm.

Those who disagree are labeled heretics, the lowest of the low, the unwashed terrorists. The anti-mandate crowd is thus stripped of its humanity in this way and is painted as demonic. The people who want to remain free become monsters, and the totalitarian monsters become heroes out to save the world. As author Robert Anton Wilson once said:

“The obedient always think of themselves as virtuous rather than cowardly.”

The Love of a Cage

I feel as though I understand this mindset to an extent, but it never fails to shock me the way in which people who scratch and scrape for power over others also seem to love being slaves to the system. I’m not so sure that it is ironic, as authoritarianism does fulfill some of its promises of “security” as long as the people involved are willing to trade away any impulses of liberty. If you do as you’re told at all times and serve the system without fail, then there is a good chance you will be able to hold onto the meager necessities of survival. You will live a life, though probably not a happy one.

For those that go above and beyond and cast aside all personal principle in order to further the goals of the system, they might even enjoy a modicum of wealth beyond their peers. You see, in a despotic society, the people who are most without honor are the people that are most rewarded. They don’t need merit, or accomplishment, or skills, or even brains; all they have to do it sell their souls and do whatever it takes to catch the eye of the oligarchy. They don’t have to be good at anything, all they have to do is be evil, and for some people that’s easy.

In this way the system becomes a comfortable blanket that otherwise useless deviants can be swaddled in. They wrap themselves in it and luxuriate in its warmth. They are not concerned with freedom because freedom feels cold to them. Freedom can be isolating and the existence of choice is terrifying. When all your choices are made for you there is never any doubt or internal stress. All that is required is that you wake up each day and obey.

For weak and ignorant people, subservience is a gift instead of a curse. They believe that a cage is meant to be gilded, not escaped from, and anyone that seeks escape must be crazy or dangerous. If free people exist then the slaves are forced to question their own condition and their own compliance, so everyone must be enslaved to remove any and all doubt from society. The hive mind is placed above all else.

The Defiant And Free

The little tyrants that infiltrate humanity probably look at liberty advocates as some kind of alien creatures from far beyond the bounds of their universe. They just can’t fathom how it is possible for someone to defy the system, to stand against the mob or the collective, even when they are outnumbered or when the risk is so high. They assume that it is a form of madness or a lack of intelligence; for how could anyone smart think they have a chance of fighting back against the dictatorship?

Liberty people are individualists by nature, but we also care about the freedoms of others. There is a common propaganda narrative that claims that individualists are “selfish”, but this is not the case at all. It is not enough for us alone to escape slavery, we will not stand by and watch others be forced into bondage either. We are willing to risk our lives not just to save ourselves but to save future generations from autocracy.

As the vaccine passports and mandates continue to escalate the totalitarians will find themselves even more bewildered, because each new mechanism of control will result in even greater impetus for rebellion, and frankly at this point it is going to be us, or them. They will not stop their pursuit of dominion and we will not comply, so we are at an impasse. Our two tribes cannot coexist within the same society, maybe not even the same planet.

The truth is that if voluntarism was a valued ideal then this whole fight could be avoided. If the collectivist cult was willing to accept the notion that they can choose to live in a highly micromanaged environment while others can choose to live independently, then there would be no crisis. We could easily go our separate ways. But this is not how totalitarians think: To them, all people are chattel, we are property to be staked down and reeducated until we see the light. And if we don’t see the light, we are to be done away with and erased.

This is why they are utterly to blame for the war that is coming. They cannot stop themselves from grasping for our throats and our minds. They are addicted to supremacy. They are living in a fever dream and the only drug that cools their veins is total oppression of everyone around them. I see what is coming next and it is not pretty for either side, but it will be especially gruesome for the collectivists because they cannot imagine a scenario in which they lose. They are so certain of their preeminence and the safety of their self imposed prisons that they will see failure as a phantom, a ghost that cannot touch them. It would only take a handful of minor defeats to bring them down, but this requires freedom advocates become more organized than they are.

The bottom line is this: Tyrannical systems are planned by elitists groups and governments and it is they that benefit most from the destruction of public freedoms. It is indeed a conspiracy, and the pandemic lockdowns and forced vaccine response are no exception. However, tyrannical systems could not be executed without the help of a larger psychopathic contingent of the population, and these people congregate together to make terrible things happen. It’s as if they hear a silent dog whistle as totalitarianism rises, or they smell the blood of innocent victims in the air.

Call them leftists, call them communists, call them collectivists, call them whatever you want; but know that the globalists are not our only concern. There is a wall of self absorbed and power hungry peons in the way, and they want whatever scraps they can get from the big boy’s table. They are not oblivious; they have not been tricked into doing the things they do. They are a sad and pathetic bunch but they are still dangerous in their ambitions, and they will continue to slither out of the woodwork as the covid agenda progresses.

[pokemaniacal]

Rockruff and Lycanroc

Lycanroc comes in two varieties, one associated with the day, and the other the night.  The way its path is chosen is a new one for split evolutions: Rockruff evolves differently depending on which version of the game you have, Sun or Moon, though wild Lycanroc of the opposite form can be found on both games.  This is put down to the “influence” of Solgaleo and Lunala, which could mean almost anything and doesn’t appear to have any effect on other Pokémon in Alola.  In future generations we can probably expect this to become a straightforward day/night fork like Espeon and Umbreon.  Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon are planned to add a new Dusk form with characteristics of both, which requires a unique Rockruff with the Own Tempo ability to evolve between 5 and 6 pm, on either game.  The solar “Midday” form is wolf-like, and feels to me like a more “natural” evolution of Rockruff than the lunar form, keeping Rockruff’s colour scheme and emphasising his most distinctive feature, the “collar” of stones.  The lunar “Midnight” form is werewolf-like, as hinted by Lycanroc’s name, which seems to derive from “lycanthrope” (from the Greek λύκος/lukos, wolf, and ἄνθρωπος/anthropos, person); the same connotation goes through all of his alternative names in other languages, some of them via the French loup-garou.  Modern werewolves tend to have a specific laundry list of traits like vulnerability to silver and the ability to transfer their curse via a bite, which are not properties Lycanroc shares, although his posture could be taken from the human/wolf hybrid forms of many modern werewolves, and of course he has the most important feature of all: a connection to moonlight (werewolves transform when exposed to the light of the full moon).  He also gets eyes that glow blood-red in battle, for an added sinister air.

The lunar form seems like a much more drastic change from Rockruff, with a shift to a hunched but bipedal posture and an obvious colour change from brown and cream to a striking crimson, as well as the replacement of the stone “collar” with an impressive and luxuriant white mane.  I’m not sure how I feel about one of these evolved forms being clearly so much more divergent than the other – like the solar form is the “true” one and the lunar form is “deviant” – because the whole context of their links to the two versions of the game implies that they should be “balanced,” equal and opposite, but both obviously natural progressions from Rockruff, in the way the “Eeveelutions” are.  This comes through quite strongly with the twilight form, which you can tell is supposed to be a merging of the sun and moon forms’ traits by the way they talk about it, but comes across as much closer to the sun form (and might even work as a Mega Evolution of the sun form).  I’m not sure whether the design has messed up the ideas it’s trying to convey, or I’ve just misunderstood what it’s trying to convey.

Where the sun and moon forms do act as opposites is in their personalities.  Lycanroc’s solar form, provided it is raised well, retains and even accentuates Rockruff’s loyalty and sense of duty, but becomes disciplined and honourable instead of playful and affectionate.  The lunar form, on the other hand, becomes aggressive, violent, and uncontrollable, with a battle style that centres on goading opponents into reckless attacks and then crushing them with overwhelming force.  The Sun and Moon website is careful to point out, however, that a good relationship with this Pokémon in the Rockruff stage will carry over to a strong bond with a lunar Lycanroc.  It further claims that Rockruff will often leave their trainers for a short time to evolve (regardless of which evolution it takes), which could be a reference to “lone wolves” that have left their packs to avoid competition with their parents and siblings.  This is generally a temporary status; a lone wolf can find a mate and start a new pack, and Rockruff will return to their trainers after evolving.  However, there are also wolves that remain solitary indefinitely, and there is a kind of mystique that surrounds them as symbols of individualism and dark, brooding strength.  That seems to fit Midnight Lycanroc – but it’s actually Midday Lycanroc that are explicitly said to hunt on their own rather than in packs.  I don’t think there’s any official word on lunar Lycanroc at all – on the one hand, their sociopathic disposition seems like it wouldn’t lend itself to complex social behaviour, and in the absence of any other information maybe we should assume they act like solar Lycanroc… but on the other hand, maybe it makes just as much sense to assume the reverse, since these forms are paired opposites.  The description we’re given on the website says that Midday Lycanroc “lives solo in mountains and deserts, not creating a pack… and they live without interfering with one another, which helps to avoid unnecessary fights,” which seems like it’s meant as a contrast with a Pokémon that does create a pack and embraces unnecessary fights – otherwise, why else would you mention it?  Maybe Midnight Lycanroc have super-complex social structures mediated by constant supremacy duels?  I don’t know, and I don’t think Lycanroc wants to tell me.

The distinction between the solar and lunar Lycanroc forms’ battle roles is mercifully straightforward.  Both are powerful physical attackers with mediocre defences, which is not a terrible thing for Rock-types to be, since Rock hits a lot of things for super-effective damage.  The Midday form is much faster than the decidedly average Midnight form, but that extra speed comes at a fairly steep cost to its defences, leaving Midday Lycanroc quite fragile, while Midnight Lycanroc can at least claim to be passable.  No word yet on the new twilight incarnation, but it seems like a reasonable guess that it will have stats midway between the other two.  The solar Lycanroc, then, is fairly specialised towards a sweeper or revenge-killer mindset, whereas the lunar form’s natural inclinations are a bit less clear.  Each form gets three attacks that aren’t accessible to the other: Quick Guard, Quick Attack, and the signature move Accelerock for Midday; Counter, Reversal and Taunt for Midnight (at least, in theory – Taunt isn’t on Midday’s level-up list, but is available as a TM, and to add insult to injury, Midday is probably the better Pokémon to use it because of his high speed).

Midnight Lycanroc’s exclusive moves produce exactly the fighting style described in his flavour text: forcing foes to attack directly with Taunt, turning their physical strength against them with Counter, and becoming ever more incensed as the battle goes on with Reversal.  The only problem is that Counter and Reversal are not great attacks.  Reversal requires you to hang around at 1 HP, or close to it, for multiple turns to get any benefit, while Counter will probably only work once in a battle, has to be timed perfectly if you want to actually kill something with it, and doesn’t do anything to special attackers.  Neither of them are actually terrible moves, just very tricky to use to their full potential, and if you’re going to take either, Lycanroc should probably be equipped with a Focus Sash to improve your odds of surviving a strong attack with 1 HP so you can retaliate at full force.  The only really important thing on the Midday form’s exclusive list is Accelerock, best described as a Rock-type Quick Attack.  I’m not entirely certain a Pokémon as fast as Midday Lycanroc actually needs a move like this, especially since his best ability, Sand Rush, doubles his already impressive speed in a sandstorm.  On the other hand, Lycanroc is not a Pokémon who is prone to having a super-packed moveset, so you can just stick Accelerock in as insurance against something even faster than you, or with priority moves of its own (Talonflame, I’m looking at you).

Details are still sketchy on Dusk Lycanroc.  We know he gets both Accelerock and Counter, though it remains to be seen whether he’ll have access to Quick Guard, Reversal, etc, and again, we don’t know exactly what his stats will look like.  We do know he’ll have the useful Tough Claws ability, a hefty +33% damage bonus for “contact” attacks – this doesn’t apply to Stone Edge, Lycanroc’s primary attack, but will significantly improve most of his other physical attacks, making it probably the best ability available to Lycanroc of any form.  Unfortunately, without knowing his exact stat profile, it’s hard to know how this will affect Dusk Lycanroc’s fighting style right now.

Lycanroc gets Swords Dance, and unlike most of the Alola Pokémon we’ve seen together so far, he’s actually fast enough to make good use of it – or, at least, his solar incarnation is.  In theory that should suggest a pretty straightforward moveset; Sand Rush for your ability with some kind of set-up from another Pokémon, Swords Dance, and then three solid attacks.  The trouble is, Lycanroc doesn’t really have three solid attacks.  Your primary attack is Stone Edge, which is great; then there’s Crunch, which is nothing to write home about but basically fine, and then… well, there’s Brick Break, which combos well with Crunch but is starting to get on the low side for power, and there’s Fire Fang and Thunder Fang, which are so weak you’re basically taking them just to victimise Pokémon with a double-weakness, like Scizor.  This is far from an inspiring movepool.  Still, at least solar Lycanroc’s strategy is straightforward.  The poor lunar bastard isn’t fast enough for a Swords Dance sweep to make sense, doesn’t get Sand Rush either, and without Accelerock or Quick Attack, his only priority attack is Sucker Punch, which suffered a power nerf in Sun and Moon, has limited PP, and can be countered by using non-damaging moves.  Lycanroc can also learn Rock Polish, so you can boost his speed that way, but then it becomes almost impossible to justify having Swords Dance as well, and Lycanroc’s base attack stat isn’t high enough to outweigh his lacklustre physical movepool without some kind of boost.  What Midnight Lycanroc does have over his diurnal counterpart is No Guard as a hidden ability, which sets the accuracy of all his moves – as well as all moves that target him – to 100%.  For the most part, the benefit of this is having a 100%-accurate Stone Edge.  That’s not nothing; in fact it’s pretty awesome, but it’s also not Machamp’s Dynamicpunch (the traditional use for No Guard), or even Golurk’s, and remember that it also makes incoming attacks 100% accurate against you (Focus Blast, anyone?).

This is normally the point at which I would describe other options that are probably terrible but at least seem amusing enough to be worth mentioning; the trouble is that not only have I still not come up with anything worth doing with the Midnight form, Lycanroc in general just doesn’t have all that many interesting options.  He is, at present, one of only a handful of Pokémon that can learn Stealth Rock within generation VII (though a bunch of older Pokémon have access to it from the Alpha Sapphire and Omega Ruby move tutors), which could be important if you don’t have the older games, but it’s a good bet there’ll be a Stealth Rock tutor in Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon.  Bulk Up is there, but I doubt even the slightly tankier Midnight form really has any business trying a Bulk Up set, since Lycanroc has no healing.  And… I honestly think that’s about it.  Lycanroc’s overall movepool is surprisingly shallow and I’m not sure there’s more than one or two basic strategies for each form.

I really want to like Rockruff and Lycanroc, I really do, because Rockruff is adorable and the day/night thing is at least passingly interesting, but I’m having trouble.  Lycanroc’s forms are both fine, I suppose, but I don’t think they work as well as a pair as they’re supposed to, and the addition of the twilight form doesn’t really change that.  Maybe when we actually see Dusk Lycanroc it will make sense; maybe Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon will reveal some new information about them, or about their relationship with Solgaleo and Lunala, that will make the whole idea seem perfectly elegant in hindsight; heck, maybe there’s even a fourth Dawn Lycanroc form that Game Freak are still hiding from us that will render everything pleasantly symmetrical.  The other problem is that Midnight Lycanroc in particular just has so few options I’m genuinely not sure what we’re supposed to do with him, and the extent to which Midday Lycanroc clearly makes more sense is unfortunate.  Part of me is left wondering whether Midday Lycanroc was originally designed on his own as a single evolution to Rockruff, and then Midnight Lycanroc was tacked on later and accordingly doesn’t mesh very well with the other forms – but then again, if we just take Midday Lycanroc as a stand-alone Pokémon, he’s simply not very interesting.  What do you know?  Maybe I do still have it in me to give critical reviews after all…

[leadingtone]

I would like to write a few dull words about the election and inauguration of the 45th President of the United States which will happen this Friday, the 20th of January—exactly one week earlier would have been more apropos, one feels.

If you’ve no interest in reading them, I certainly do not blame you. We are all exhausted, and it’s only midweek. 

_____

This calamity that it now falls to us to witness and to resist is the result of a highly effective appeal to magical thinking. Magical thinking is defined as the misattribution of cause and effect according to whimsy rather than to logic, generally compelled by superstition, sentiment, or some mix of the two. 

An example of this would be the belief that socioeconomic uncertainty and instability in one’s life are the result of the election of a highly educated and eloquent black U.S. President, instead of the fallout from an oligarchic, military-industrial, hyper-capitalist machinery that, struggling to make ends meet, has as a matter of course increased the rate at which it consumes its own spare parts.

The corollary of such a belief, one might expect, is that the election of a crass, loud, and inexperienced but opportunistic billionaire landlord of German extraction ought to fix things up real nice—instead of ensuring the expansion and further fortification of the oligarchy which, having never exactly accepted this rather gaudy and gauche victor, will nonetheless gladly suffer to be refereed by him, considering the alternatives that were only narrowly displaced last summer. (I speak in particular of the Senator from Vermont, whose quite modest and sensible aspirations toward equality and accountability could scarcely be tolerated even by his own party banner.)

Yes, it was magical thinking that won this election, brilliantly harnessed by a pretty hapless egomaniac and his extremely intelligent and capable friends.

To Make America Great Again was, just as it had so successfully been in numerous instances prior, the perfectly hollow, chameleonic, and moronic clarion call. 

To some it meant the miraculous resurrection of crumbling factories. (Behold, I shew you a mystery: In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed).

For others, to Make America Great Again is to watch in smug self-satisfaction as the wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round in reverse over the colorfully banded wrists—or gold-banded ring fingers—of queer and transgender citizens, in fact backing that bitch up as far as the steps of Foster Auditorium in June of 1963, when Governor George Wallace shrilly reminded blacks of their proper place, in patriotic defiance of the Supreme Court and of the will of most of the heathen nation, for that matter.

The driver on the bus goes, “Move on back.”

For all his shortcomings and his predictable lapses of idealism—I believe the man really did try, at least for a while—still President Obama and his family did provide a thirsty nation with a quiet and powerful symbol. The past eight years have seen, in some measure, the American Dream of the minority made manifest: an African-American scholar with an Arabic middle name ran the Oval Office, right where the nation put him.  

The fabric of Wallace’s heavenly order started to sag a little over the heads of those for whom it had long provided the only meaningful existential drapery, like the peeling, deformed roof liner of an ‘85 Cadillac parked for too long somewheres down in Louisiana. 

It is no wonder that the citizenship, the religion, and the ideological allegiances of our 44th President were called into question by hysterical magical thinkers everywhere; no mystery that his administration faced an oppositional legislature that would rather burn down the house than let the help sleep in the massa suite. 

_____

Please understand: the President-Elect does not give a gilded Russian rat’s ass what color you are, whether or not you want to marry a man or a woman, or whether or not you are a man, a woman, or something else entirely that you may happen to find more beautiful and expressive and true to yourself. 

It is pretty much all good with him. In fact, he needs you for bait and tackle. That’s about the full of extent of his concern with the gays and the blacks and whoever is friends with them.    

More to the point, your presence in the society is welcomed and required by all the plump sucklings who will look on, tails a’twitchin’, as their new Boss Hogg does his dance on the steps of the Capitol on Friday. The anticipation will be unbearably adorable, I’m sure, as the piggies await their face time with the swollen, distended teats of the supine State.

They care only about revenues. Optimal market conditions. 

They don’t begrudge anyone who wants such a thing as an advanced degree in gender studies, little as they may understand it. It is not that they hope to see gay teens closeted or disowned; they do not exactly hunger for young black or Latino families to have to strain to so much as visualize a better future for themselves; it is not their desire, one wouldn’t precisely say, to create and perpetuate war, or to dramatically accelerate the destruction of the environment beyond the merely terrifying and into the limply, hopelessly irredeemable. 

They might in fact find it rather sad that some people count themselves fortunate to be able to survive by choosing between food and medication from month to month, while others cannot seem to subsist on ample rations of thoughts and prayers.  

But those are simply the costs of doing business. The model—which is fully board-approved and actually is going fucking awesome at this point—looks like this:

First, you and your values will be painted as deviant, degenerate, and destructive in order that the appropriate persons might stand upon your bent back and declare this terrain to be the moral high ground. Internal studies and the assurances of multiple consultants have proven this to be the surest way to win an election, as it capitalizes on the basest and most reptilian aspects of human psychology.

Then you and, if necessary, your children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren will pay for your right to subsist with your labor, your money, your sweat, your personal freedom and sense of self-worth, and perhaps even your blood. 

Commerce deregulation and moral panic are jolly good bedfellows! 

‘Tis revenue, my boy, and nothing more! 

Dollars and good sense, dear fellow. Units sold, and profits projected.

Such thinking is not magical in the slightest—not even a little bit, not even enough to be kind of charming.

_____

Cessante ratione legis, cessat ipsa lex. That’s about the only truth I hold to be self-evident anymore, so I’m afraid I have scant little to offer in the way of hope or inspiration. 

If you are repulsed, and angry, and frightened, you are not alone. If in looking at certain people you no longer see them as you did before November, well, I understand how that feels. 

Be on the lookout for those who may need your help, for whom borrowing just a smidgen of your courage and your basic human kindness may make a difference you can’t fathom. 

Pay attention to each other, and pay attention to what people aren’t talking about on Facebook. 

_____

We have all become pawns, every one of us, however actively or passively.

Perhaps they took advantage of a small fissure in your family, worming into it and then writhing and wriggling so as to transform the home into an ideological battleground, just as they have with mine and many others I know.

Or maybe they drew a dotted line through your tightly-knit circle of friends, through your school, or across your church. There are about a thousand different ways that can happen. 

Maybe you spend a lot more money and live a lot less life than you used to, and call it growing up, and plan on the same for your kids. In the age of the sassy meme and the decree-by-tweet, pretty much anything is possible. Click to emote. Type to express. What time is it? ... Time to get up. 

If they gave you the world and then snatched it back—then this is me hugging you, and reminding you that there are things, baby doll, that can never be taken from you.

I really do have some faith in what gleams within people. On a good day, I extend that munificent confidence even to myself. I have watched the embers die too many times for want of a hardy poke, sure. 

But I have also seen ‘em blaze. Carpe noctem. 

[a425app]

Interview 07

Interview Questions

How are you?

Pretty good! It’s been a nice morning so far. Woke up at my leisure, had some coffee, conducted an interview with my father-in-law, and now I’m here

What is your name?

Cory Timmons

What is your age?

31

What gender do you identify as?

Female. I’m a transwoman, and I make that distinction. I can’t deny that I lived as a man for most of my life, although, that’s not how I felt inside. Many transwoman do not like to make the distinction between being a woman and being a transwoman, but I think it’s the most accurate way to describe me. I’m still very early in my transition, and expect to change a lot in the next 2-5 years.

What are the things that have been on your mind today?

Getting my interviews done is really stressing me out. I’m very nervous that I don’t know enough people to properly conduct the required number of interviews.

What's been the most enjoyable part of you of your day so far?

My coffee and chat with my husband this morning. I love him so much.

Is there something your looking forward too?

I’m looking forward to checking some things off my list today so I can reduce my stress. I know what I have to do, I took some time before bed to make a list of things for the weekend, so now I just have to GSD- get shit done!

What is the most important thing that matters to you at the moment?

Completing my degree.

Do you work? If so how many hours a week and what sort of job is it? / do you work on site or at home (or alternate location)

Yes. It varies. I work between 5 and 20 hours a week. I make posters for the music department, and occasionally do administrative work for an occupation/physical therapy company who helps kids with special needs in SF. I work at home for both jobs.

What are some things you like to do on the weekends?

Lately, working on homework. My husband and I like to have morning dates.. so we go out thrift shopping and have a nice lunch together. I like to just be cozy, so I immediately put my pjs on after we get home. If I have time, I clean the house, organize/work on little projects to make the house a little easier to live in. Every few weeks, we get brunch with my mom. If I perform in drag, I usually do so on the weekends.

What is your living situation like?

We live in a spacious house surrounded by trees with our pets. We’re very near a park, and near to amenities in town. I’m very very lucky.

is your living space organized to help you accomplish your tasks or goals, whatever they may be?

I think so. I have a dressing room/private lounge that’s just for me. It’s my own little haven in the house. We also have a nice art studio that’s set up for physical and digital arts. The rest of the house has a great flow, lots of pocket doors and things so we can close off parts as we need to. I love this house. It’s very well-designed.

What kinds of chores did you do during childhood/adolescents?

Very few. Basically just cleaning my room to the point it wasn’t a fire hazard, but even then, my parents were incredibly lenient about my chores. My mom did all of it, and I still feel immense guilt about it. That’s probably the most “male” part of my up-bringing—I was waited on hand-and-foot by my mom. I ultimately suffered for it. I had none of these skills, yet I was often in the position of being asked to do those tasks because of the dynamics of my relationships. I basically taught myself housekeeping from martha stewart, and then tried to come back down to earth to a more practical style of keeping house.

Would you say you actively seek out new things to try?

Oh totally

What are some of your goals for your daily life?

I’d like to walk the dog more consistently. I’d like to get in the habit of writing for thirty minutes every single day. I would like to be better about my makeup removal/getting ready for bed routine.

What are some of your goals in general?

I want to make Salem more comfortable fore queer/trans folks. Our city can be very hostile and cruel toward people with deviant genders and sexualities, and we don’t really have a ton of resources considering our city’s size. So that’s a big focus of my life. In fact, I’d say it’s what I’d identify as my purpose for the time. Besides that, more short term, I want to graduate and get a good job making a difference in the world. I’d like to work for a non-profit or some other kind of business/entity that improves peoples lives. I want to keep my art-making practice outside of school—it’s changed my life for the better and I don’t want to lose this power and passion I’ve developed.

What are some things that make you feel proud of yourself?

When I complete an art work that accomplishes my content and formal goals I feel very proud of myself. I feel proud of myself when I survive harsh and cruel situations and still keep my head up. I feel proud of myself when I speak my truth, not fearing the reprisal or consequences.

What activities give you the most satisfaction?

At home, DIY projects and gardening are probably the most satisfying. I get to see it change from A to B and it lasts—something that I can continue to witness over time.

What kinds of things do you to relieve stress?

I listen to guided imagery. I find it helps immensely with my anxiety and PTSD symptoms. I used to self medicate much more with alcohol and marijuana, but I’ve cut back a lot on both of those things, but still use. Not the best way to relieve stress, so I’m trying to be more mindful about it and use healthier options. Meh. No one’s perfect.

What is something you wish you had more time to do?

Making art, particularly digital art. I dream of making a video game. Some kind of RPG, like Final Fantasy or even action-adventure like Zelda. I’d love to have more time to devote to that.

What kinds of things take up most of your time?

Homework right now, and miscellaneous administrative tasks. Honestly, my schedule is so tight right now that it’s all kind of a blur.

How do you feel after you have completed a task.

Great!

How do you reward yourself?

This is a step a rarely do. I only really reward myself for BIG things. When I quit smoking cigarettes, I saved the money I had been spending on that and bought myself a game console.

How much time do you take just for yourself?

I spend a good hour and a half each morning waking up, drinking coffee, listening to podcasts and doing my shower/makeup/dressing routine. At night, I spend about an hour listening to music/podcasts, playing video games, or reading.

What are the most frustrating aspects of your daily activities/ day?

Driving. I love it and hate it. I like the ability to drive, but I hate commuting. So it’s a a weird dynamic! I would love to have the ability to ride a bus or trolley or something to work so I don’t have to think about it. But I’d still want a car because I enjoy driving. Weird, huh? I guess it just feels like I’m losing about an hour of productive time each day.

What time of day do you tend to do your work/chores/ homework

Any time I have, I spend it on that. So, usually 4-9 MWF, 12-9 T/R. All day on the weekend.

Do you feel like you have a good balance between work and personal life?

Not at all, but this period of my life is not about that at all. I’m doing all this work so I can have a personal life again. I absolutely do not intend to keep this pace. It will destroy me and my marriage if I do. I intend to be a more normal “adult” when I’m done with school.

How consistent is your schedule?

Parts are very consistent, other parts are variable. School obviously doesn’t change, but I have counseling/therapy appointments at various times of the week/alternating weeks, evening events, etc.

Can you describe a typical day for you from the time you wake up to the time you go to bed?

7:15 wake up, glass of water, take pills

7:30 coffee, read news, listen to podcasts, homework if needed

8:30 Shower

9:00 Makeup/dress

9:25 Leave for school

9:30 McDonalds

9:55 Arrive at school

10-4 classes

4:00 leave for home

4:25 get home. Drink water, take dogs out

4:45 use the bathroom

5:00 start dinner

5:30 hug mike when he gets home (our main ritual), then feed the dogs

6:00 eat dinner

6:30 dishes

6:45 watch tv/chit chat catch up with mike

8:00 Homework

9:00 alone time in my lounge: video games, music podcasts, drawing, etc.

9:30 remove contacts/makeup, night cream, take night pills

9:45 alone time again

10:15 – 10:45 slip into bed. Read in bed until I pass out.

What time of day do you feel the most alert/happy

Mid-day, 2-6

What do you think having a routine means?

Doing stuff without really thinking about it.

Do you have a daily/weekly routine(s) If so, What are some of your daily/weekly routines?

My days are pretty routine in the way I describe it. Not a lot deviates from that. The main consistent routine centers around school and caring for my dogs.

What tools do you use to plan or remind yourself of activities or a routine if any?

I have a family calendar  mike and I share to keep aware of our day-to-day. We have a chore chart for those kinds of things. Other than that, not realy.

Do you think having a daily routine would/does benefit you? Why or why not?

I think some of the things that’d be good for my skin/body would definitely benefit me. I’m pretty inconsistent about makeup removal, and I’d like to be better about caring for my skin in that way.

Have you done any research / read articles about having a routine?

No.

How often would you say you search for things involving lifestyle: blogs, articles, magazines etc.

Rarely.

Would you be interesting in learning how to best establish and stick to a routine?

What would that look like to you?

Yes. I think it would be positively encouraging and would try to keep me going if I fuck up. I think a lot of times it feels like “all is lost” if I miss a day or don’t do something quite right. So I’d want something to hold me accountable but still keep my interest? Maybe some funny content, connections with others. Tricks on how to get your brain to re-wire.

Do you use technology for planning and/or reminders? If so, what are your favorite tools/programs.

Why are those your favorite?

Yes. I use the apple calendar, and mike and I share it. It’s pretty intuitive, it’s native on the phone, and I can share with hubby.

What are some of your favorite apps to use? Why those? How do you use them? How often do you use them?

I don’t use a ton of apps, but I like the adobe apps for iPad a lot. I think they have the right amount of features for me to draw or do whatever. It’s like JUST what I need… no bloat. It doesn’t feel hard to learn. You just kind of open it and it’s obvious what to do.  I use them to make vector drawing sketches that I pull into illustrator and refine. I use adobe capture a ton to make cool shapes and illustrations, too. I use these almost daily.

If you could make a app for keeping track of a routine what would be some of the features you would want?

I would want to sync up with others doing it too. Social really helps for me. I’d want it to keep track of what I’m doing, maybe remind me of the benefits of what I’m doing. That was something that really helped me when I quit smoking… your lungs are x better and your risk of x is x or whatever really helped me to see the benefit of continuing something that was fucking sooooo hard I wanted to quit a million times day. Six years later it’s hard to imagine that, like it really worked for me. So, I guess getting through the shittiness of starting and then reinforcing after I’ve picked up the habit.

Have you ever failed to stick to a routine? If so, why do you think that was?

Yeah, I can’t tell you how many diet and exercise routines I used to try. I think I always wanted to go whole hog instead of just accepting that a little bit at a time over time is better than a quick burst all at once. I think it has to be something that will fit into my normal life..,. I shouldn’t have to plan my whole fucking day around a routine just to stick to it. I don’t do well with anything regimented or with negative punshiment. Fuck that. So it has to feel good, be easy, and feel positive.

Do you have any medical conditions that you think might affect your ability to stick to a regular schedule or routine?

Not really. Allergies maybe.

Do you think your profession has an impact on your routine?

Yes. I think being a student puts me in a position of forcing myself into a certain structure of time. In my old job, I had a very consistent schedule and no work to take home. My husbands job is not like that. We have different routines. SO I dunno, maybe it’s profession, maybe it’s the level of job, maybe it’s personality.

To what degree do you think other people impact your routine?

A lot routines and things need support, and I think if someone else is against the change, it can make the change very hard to deal with. I think everyone in a household kind of has to be on board.

Would you be more likely to do something if someone else was holding you accountable?

Maybe, but not in like an authoritarian sense. Like not like a directive, but more collaborative, like we’re in it together. Like… my bestie and I like to walk, so we often encourage each other in that way, but the same is true… she’s my bestie so it’s just as easy to say “fuck it” because we know neither of us REALLY wants to do it, ya know?? So maybe it’d need to be someone I was less close to so the social pressure to maintain the habit was a little higher.

If we came back in [x number of] years to have this conversation again, what would you like to be different?

I think I will have a pretty routinized daily life that is hitting all the boxes of things I want to work on and accomplish. Ithink I will have built more “down time” into my schedule because right now I’m working way too fucking hard and I know I can’t keep this up.

Is there anything I’ve missed?

Maybe what inspires a change. So I want to walk more for the main reason of my health: I’m very sedentary and I’m worried that as I get older I will miss my “easy” chance at starting to exercise and incorporate something health related into my lifestyle. To be honest, my disconnection from my body is not surprising. It never felt like home to me. It felt inhospitable and like someone else’s body. Now that I’m on the path of having the body I want (through hormone replacement) I’m feeling a much deeper connection to my body and the way that it cares and provides for me. So, in many ways I regret the apathy and neglect I demonstrated toward my body during my youth. It’s hard to know that I did so much damage to my body in my younger years and that I can’t take that time back. So maybe some motivation for wanting to change. I’m starting a new life, and I need to think about what the life means and what I want out of it, if that makes sense. And the health of my body is central to my ability to live the life I want. So that’s why I want a better routine.

Is there anything you want to tell me?

Thank you for being a good friend. : )

Any questions?