#old detroit brick

[tinkerbull]

Misc Van Gogh works. Taken at the Detroit Institute of Arts

[colossalcriminal]

Memory Lane, Detroit. - j.m.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader, slight Connor x fem!Reader, Hank x Daughter!Reader (mentioned), Last of Us x Detroit: Become Human crossover. Summary: They say home is where the heart is, but when Y/N stumbles upon Detroit on their journey to Wyoming, she feels as though home is where her heart once was, and where it could be one day.

Content warnings: mentions of death, pregnancy, late30s!reader x 50s!Joel. Android revolution failed in 2002, outbreak occurred in 2003.

They're in Detroit.

Something about it hits her like a tonne of bricks or tripping on cobblestone when wearing nice heeled shoes like they used to. Either way, she stumbles, nearly falling. Maybe it's the air, the feel, the familiarity, but she's certain it isn't the look of it.

Detroit is unrecognisable, for the most part.

That's what one nightmare after another does to a place, she guesses.

"Come on, I know somewhere we can stay the night."

Joel and Ellie follow her, nearly mindlessly. The former takes note of this as Y/N's domain, her territory, etched into the back of her brain, and the girl isn't one to argue with her like she does with Joel.

They walk, as they have done through the summertime. Every now and then her eyes trail over a familiar street sign, or an old store. She swears you could hear a subtle whistle in the wind, a slight hum of laughter, but she decides it's the ghost of her youth.

Not terrible, is one way to describe the house. The disease has been kind enough to leave it remotely untouched. It's dark, but the windows are open and the curtains are torn, so it has been touched.

Joel goes to open the door, the handle doesn't budge, he grunts. "Hold on." He steps away with a huff, watching her movements. Y/N kicks over a potted plant, the organism long dead and smelling slightly foul if you're close enough to it, underneath is a silver key. "Spare."

She unlocks the door with a professional force, the kind you'd employ if you were a resident of the property, but Joel doesn't ask her just yet. Ellie is the first to go inside, instantly hopping onto the couch. The springiness surprises her, a giggle escapes her lips, Y/N smiles. "Ellie, there's a room down the hall for you. On the right." She listens, dashing down the hall and into the bedroom whilst the older woman stays put. "Hello?"

"Who're you calling out to?"

Her head snaps in Joel's direction at his query, he stands near the entry to the kitchen. "Was just wondering something."

The house is empty, apart from the three of them. She goes past him into the kitchen, there is a nearly empty bottle of liquor by the sink, a singular photograph on the surface of the dining table. "You alright, darlin'?" Her partner says from behind her, he presses his chest to her back, his arms caging her against the table.

"Yeah." He catches a glimpse of the photo she stares at before she turns to face him. "Just thinking, honey."

A sigh escapes his mouth, his hands plant themselves on her waist. "I know." And he does, he knows what she's thinking about. "Any idea where he is?"

Y/N shakes her head. "For all I know, he could be-"

Joel interrupts her, his digits lightly dig into the flesh of her midsection. "Don't think like that. C'mon, now," His right hand travels, his fingertips lightly hooking under her chin, she finally looks into his stormy grey eyes.

The corners of her lips tug upward, the smile is small, she places a quick peck on his lips. "Let's get some rest, hm?" They slowly step to the living room, he settles in to the sofa first, she doesn't join. "Hold on, just wanna see something outside. I'll only be a minute."

"Be careful."

And so she is, silently leaving the house, her hand stays on the handle of her gun, fingertip teasing the trigger.

It's eerily quiet. A rustle. It's faint, almost nonexistent, she turns to her left. "Jesus, fuck."

The subject of her curses tilts his head, his eyes squint momentarily. "Y/N?"

"Yeah, Connor."

They look at each other, it isn't brief or fleeting, their stares bore holes into the other.

Connor looks just as he did twenty years ago, his skin smooth, hair dark and eyes youthful, but his clothes are rugged, his CyberLife jacket has been lost and his tie is ripped. The sleeves of his button up are folded to reveal dirt stained forearms.

His eyes, they're dim, dark brown and dull, probably from some many years of lonesome survival. They soften upon her, her own tiresome eyes could mirror his, the underneath of them are dark and slightly hollow.

Also hollowed out are her cheeks. Small wrinkles fold over each other at the outer corners of her eyes, her hair isn't as long as it once was, but for the most part, Connor smiles at how gracefully she has aged, despite the obvious circumstances.

"How are you?" The question is futile, but he hasn't had much practice with human interaction in recent decades.

"Surviving." Her brows furrow, she's unable to remain curt, cool and collected, worry flashes across her features. "You're still here? After all this time?"

The android nods, somewhat proud, a little. "Taking care of the house."

"I guess no one expects an android to stick around." He smiles a little at the humor in her sarcasm. "Where is he? My dad."

Connor takes a step forward, and judging by the frown playing at his lips, she knows what is coming. "Y/N," Her head begins to nod, despite the news still inching off the tip of his tongue. "Hank died. Seventeen years ago."

"Oh."

Something shifts in her stomach, a revelation, a sense of relief. A conclusion has been presented to her, certainty floods her veins, a light has shone itself upon the darkness of unknowing and death.

"Was he," The woman sucks in a breath. "was he alone, or in pain? Was he bitten?"

"No. No, he was sick. He had been for about a year, he decided it was time." Y/N's lips purse, she continues to nod feverishly, her brain processes his words. "He thought of you. You and Cole were the last Hank spoke about. We didn't know you were alive."

On that cool day in September twenty years ago, she'd arrived in New York for university, but had barely made it through her first lecture when the news echoed throughout the bustling city.

"Yeah, I know." Y/N sniffles, not from tears, but something tingles. "I tried driving back to you, couldn't make it past Pittsburgh, it'd been quarantined by then."

Connor nods. "Yes."

"I found a group, a couple of us settled in the Boston QZ."

He tilts his head, curious. "Boston's far, what are you doing here?"

She rubs at her temples, shifting her weight between her feet. "We think we've found something, a cure, we need to get her to a lab in Wyoming."

"Her?"

"It's complicated."

"I can help."

"What?"

The android is unfazed. "I can help you get to Wyoming."

A click sounds, from behind her, she turns to find Joel, weapon in hand and pointed for Connor's head. "Y/N, go inside, I'll deal with him."

She shakes her head, a breathy chuckle leaves her. "No, Joel, this is Connor."

His gun lowers. "That Connor?"

"Yeah. Connor, this is Joel, my,"

"I'm her husband." He finishes, face suddenly scrunching in disbelief when he faces her, no one can pinpoint the expression he holds.

"I will give you both some time to talk." Connor, in true android fashion, abruptly walks away, his hands clasped behind his back.

Y/N sits on the stone steps that lead to the porch of the house, planting herself next to where Joel stands. She tugs on his trousers, he sits next to her. "That android thing?"

"That android thing cared for my dad and kept this house in shape." She tells him. "My dad worked the deviant cases to stop the android revolution with him. I was nosy, pestering Connor for information."

"Haven't changed much, honey."

Her shoulder bumps his, it does little damage. "When you met me in Pittsburgh?" He nods, urging her to continue. "I had driven from New York, was just about to start my first year of college."

Joel's hand rests on her thigh, the warmth of his palms comforts her skin, she leans into him completely and he welcomes her touch with a kiss to her hair. "He wants to help us get Ellie to Wyoming."

"Can he use a gun?"

"Mhm."

"Alright, then."

Removing her head from his shoulder, she looks up at him, kissing his lips once, twice, until he holds her jaw and keeps her lips put against his for a third, longer time. She chuckles into his affection, they part minimally, until the similar rustling of an android's footsteps return. "Hey, you're sure you want to come with us?"

Connor nods at her question, he holds his hand out to Joel, who takes it firmly, barely shaking it. "I'll see you both inside."

"Yeah, baby." Her hand trails along the side of his torso, fingertips hovering over his leg as he gets up, Connor takes Joel's place next to her. "It's good to see you, Connor, after so long."

He smiles, fully, this time, slightly toothy. "You, too, Y/N. You've grown."

"Mhm." There's a certain glee in his awkwardness, "Hate the fact that you look the same, so damn great, fucking android."

The familiar sound of her sardonic humor hits his ears, it's like music to his mechanical brain, he dares to chuckle. "Sorry, about that. You don't look too bad yourself." It takes everything in the blue of his blood not to mention how similar she is to Hank.

A moment of silence, there's something she wants to say, Y/N remains chewing on the words, stewing in her vocabulary. "You can say it."

"I'm pregnant."

That isn't what he's expecting, he's taken aback, eyebrows raised for just a moment. "Congratulations."

"Well, thanks, yeah, kind of. Shit world we're in." Connor doesn't respond, he agrees. "But Joel takes good care of me. Been doing so for sixteen years."

"That's good." He looks at her, rather than ahead across the street like they have been doing. "You can always come back here."

She does the same, also smiling. "Yeah? Thanks, Connor."

Quiet, Detroit is so quiet, peace is a smell in the air.

The door to the house opens at such a speed, it threatens to fly off its hinge. "Joel said there's an android!"

"Fucking Joel." Y/N mutters.

[n30nwrites]

I've Died, Many Years Ago (Jason Todd)

So people liked the first one, now heres this.

Back Next

You've found that you didn't really age. You also didn't bleed anymore and your heart was only 6 beats per minute.

Then their was the cravings.

After your first day of resurrecting, you found a mans dead body, he had a joker smile painted on his lips and you could already taste him. You took a large stray brick and pounded his head in. Over, and over again for the tiniest taste of brain.

Tasting it was seeing the truth, it was Eve's apple dangling from the tree as the serpent whispers how God wasn't here now.

God wasn't here, you wouldn't be this if they were.

You didn't know what to do, you had been dead for years, well three years. You were 19 now, with nowhere to go. You couldn't just resume your life, could you? Your mother was gone, you had no idea where she lived now, and Jason was dead, he had to be.

So what could you do now?

---

It took a year for you to start living. You left Gotham and went to Detroit after fudging your papers, you went by a different last name, and hacked into your old school and Hospital you worked at to submit your documents to the Detroit Police Department.

It's easy to get brains from the dead.

Your boss is Alec Mobek, the head Medical Examiner. He's a decent man, you never attempted to get close to him with small talk but he enjoyed talking for the both of you. He liked some geeky video games and loved his job even more. He was so painfully normal, and you were jealous of that.

He reminds you of everything you could've been.

You used to be ambitious. You used to be passionate. Inspired. Alive. Now, your mostly just hungry.

At least you still had your intuition.

Sometimes you thought about confiding in him. He was older than you, in his 30s, he seemed more like a father-figure than anything. He offered you food, rides to and from work, and had even gotten you more clothes when he noticed how you wore the same outfit to work everyday.

But your burden is of the 'bare it alone' variety. You would know if there were others, there would be an outbreak if there were. Being alone was for the best. You didn't touch anyone, in fear of spreading it. You kept gloves on, your nails trimmed, and never had sex.

It was like a bad STD. But you couldn't die.

In the shitty apartment that you lived in, there were multiple containers of brain just sitting. You liked to finish them off one by one, but sometimes the personalities and flash backs got so overwhelming that you had to switch.

The brain you were last on was a lackey of the Jokers, some man who had lost it long ago. You didn't feel a single thing on his brain, and had constant images of killing people.

You might've been made into a monster, but you wouldn't act upon it.

"Alright, what do you got for me?" Dick Grayson is handsome, if you were human (and older) you probably would've tried to pursue him at one point. He transferred just a few months ago, and unlike other Detectives, he didn't stray from the ME's office because of the bodies.

"An unidentified Jane Doe, found in the back of a garbage truck. The garbage truck was using a crusher so that complicates finding the cause of death. Could be suicide, could be murder." You know Alec cares, it's just that he sees so much death that at one point, if he kept focusing on it, it would ruin him. "My assistant is going to sew her back up, bag her and box her." He walks over to the side where the detective is. Dick has a small frown on his face.

"In your personal opinion, what do you think happened?" Dick questions as he and Alec walk up the stairs. They continue to talk and get quieter, and it was your time to strike.

The autopsy saw sat in your hand, it was plugged in already and when the coast was clear, you cut through the mans skull. You were a professional, this was something you had done to every body since you had gotten there. There were multiple brains in your fridge, having Missing bites, you didn't have to eat everyday, thankfully. A brain usually wore off after three days, and the abilities with them would as well.

You would have flashes of their past, you could gain certain personality traits or habits they had.

You once ate the brain of a man who was considered the right hand man to Joker, he was a looney. You dumped that brain down the disposal after you found yourself buying items for a bomb. You then switched to an older woman.

This Jane Doe would be your meal for the day. You took it out as carefully as you could, ignoring any guilt you could feel as you cut up pieces of her brain and tossed her in with some spicy Beef ramen. Heating what used to be a person up for 3 minutes and scarfing it all down in your mouth. The rest of her brain you kept hidden in the back of the fridge, something that Alec rarely opened.

When Alec comes down, you're filling out some paperwork that just need his signature. He talks about how they have a suspect, someone who was seen on camera arguing with her. Alec only heard that because Dick didn't know how to be quiet.

"I'm heading out for the day, Jane Doe is taken care of. Paperwork as well, you just need to sign off on it."

"Thank you so much..." He looks to where her body is, bagged and tagged as the body is in the cooler. "Detective Grayson, Do you like Him?"

He was your boss, you reminded yourself. You had to answer. "He seems fine."

"You know he's Bruce Wayne's son?"

As was Jason.

"So?" You didn't care, he wasn't Jason. He would never be Jason. He was Dick Grayson, AKA Nightwing, Detective by day and vigilante by night. It sounded like a shitty comic.

Detroit had it's issues, you can't tell how many times you had been shot at or people had tried to rob you. Many villains have stopped by, many underlings trying to be villains had also stop by.

"Most people are on their knees for him."

"Sexually or metaphorically?" You question.

"Both I guess." Alec huffs as he reads over the paperwork, "Susanna likes him, but I guess that with money comes attraction." He seems jealous.

"That and he's considered attractive." You nod your head as you turn to walk away, Alec mutters something about the unknown victim. You grab your backpack and as you go to open the back door, you are suddenly transported.

"I told you to stay away." The voice coming from your body is feminine, she's panting, sweating. You can feel it all. She's exiting out the door, not looking at the man who you assume is following her, he has heavy footprints. "I want nothing to do with you, you're fucking insane-"

"Don't run away from me Stephanie." The man grabs her hand and turns her around and he's decent looking. Nothing compared to your soulmate, but he was easily identifiable.

"My name is Valeria. Valeria Prinsky. Get it through your thick fucking skull." She yanks her hand back and as he lifts his arm, it is quickly stopped by a man in a red helmet.

You come back to Alec saying your name, Dick Grayson was in the room with him, and they were both staring at you. While it didn't feel long, time seems to lose all sense of purpose during your visions. You blink your eyes. "Do we need to call someone?" Dick asks as Alec puts his hand on your shoulder, you quickly pull away.

"No, no I'm fine." You tell them, rolling your neck slightly as you pop it. "I just forgot something." You turn back in, going into the other office away from them and quickly grabbing the brain and stuffing it into your backpack. When you turn away from the fridge, you see Jane Doe's file.

Valeria Prinsky. She has a name, she has a life, and you were living off of her. The least you can do is give her a name. You cross out Jane Doe on the file and write her name, and when you leave, Dick and Alec are talking in hushed whispers.

You can't find it in yourself to care.

[tbznewberry]

The boyz become human — part 2

Part 1

The androids have been put to work, but they can't seem to forget you. And one dark, Friday night, they finally find you again.

Genre: yandere, sci-fi, Detroit become human AU

Warnings: strip club, uncomfortable atmosphere, drunken men, fighting, spelling mistakes

Kevin looks at the little girl in front of him. She’s hugging her worn out teddy bear tightly as she sobs, wearing a pink jacket. Her mom is a few meters away with Jacob, Sangyeon and Haknyeon, drunk and high as a kite while leaning on a brick wall with a pink LED sign above her. What kind of mother brings her five year old daughter to the strip club? 

Kevin sinks down in front of the little girl with a charming smile. 

“Hi, friend”, he says and pokes the fluffy teddy bear. “What’s your name?”

“Louise.”

“I’m Kevin.” He looks at the thing in her hands. “What a cute little bear you have. What’s its name?”

“Bearie.”

Kevin tilts his head. “What a cute name.”

“He is my best friend.”

“Do you see the guys over there?” 

The little girl looks where Kevin points and nods. 

“Those are my best friends”, he says. 

The little girl's big doe eyes watch him carefully. He can’t understand why. Is he scaring her? He’s doing everything to win her over. He’s doing everything he’s been programmed and taught to do. He scans her. She’s scared, confused and interested.

“Are you an android?” she asks. 

“I am”, he answers. 

“Mommy says androids are bad … they take her job.”

“I’m a nice android. I’m here to help you.” He grows quiet. “Can I hug you? You seem like you need a hug.”

The girl nods carefully. Kevin places his arms around her and lifts her up. She puts her small arms around his neck in response. He starts to walk away from the others with his mission sounding in his head: take the little girl to the police station. 

“Where are we going?” the little girl whispers.

“We are going somewhere warm so you won’t freeze”, Kevin answers. 

He can’t feel the cold, but she can. Along with the scan of her feelings, he also saw her body temperature. Minute by minute it drops and if they stay out here in this cold any longer, he’ll fail his mission. His body is heated like always and he relies on it to keep her warm for now. 

“Mommy!” the little girl shouts, but her mother doesn’t react or respond. “I want to go to mommy!”

Kevin’s brain stops. Should he lie or tell her the truth? After this, her mother won’t ever have custody over this poor little girl again, but he can’t tell her that, can he? That’d be cruel. But he shouldn’t lie. He’s programmed to have morality. 

“She’ll come too”, he says. “We’ll go first. You have to warm up.”

He sits down in the backseat of the automatic car and it starts to drive. He holds the little girl in his lap, keeping her close enough to warm her up. 

“Look out the window, can you count the streetlights for me?” he says, pointing out the window. 

“I can count to twenty”, she says proudly. 

“You can? What a good little girl you are!”

“How high can you count?”

“Not as high as you!”

Of course he can. He can count infinitives, but his duty comes before bragging. He has to bond with the little girl. 

She eventually falls asleep on him in the car. Kevin turns to look out the window until they reach the police station. His human colleagues are in their office, talking to each other when he enters with the girl in his arms. 

“Here’s the kid”, he says. “Louise.”

“Where’s her mom?” one of the humans asks. 

“She’s with the others. I brought the kid here.”

“Stay with her until we’ve come up with what we should do.”

A new mission. 

“Understood”, Kevin says and sits down in an armchair with Louise in his arms. 

She sleeps soundly, hugging the teddy bear. He sits there for two hours before the others come with the mother in tow.

“Then it’s done”, the human male says, taking Louise. “We don’t need you anymore today. You can go charge.”

“And the girl?” Kevin asks. “What’ll happen to her?”

“She’ll get placed in a foster home and a nice family will probably adopt her.”

“Probably? Aren’t you sure?”

“You can never be sure.”

“What if no one adopts her?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your job. Go charge now.”

The man leaves. Kevin gives the sleeping five year old one last gaze before reuniting with his friends.

——♤——

A protest against androids is occurring on the town’s square and the police send the eleven androids. They can’t understand why. Won't this only upset them more?

They reach the square and see how people with big signs are yelling in a choir. They're dressed in thick jackets with hats and gloves. The androids all around them are dressed in their workers suits. All androids are categorized and can be identified based on their outfit. Like the eleven androids, they're wearing gray suits.

"Leave!" a woman shouts at the androids that just came to the protest.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't", Sangyeon says. "We're sent by the police. We're obligated to be here to make sure nothing happens."

"Oh, fuck off!" the leader yells into a megaphone. "No one wants you here!"

"We're not going to stop your protest", Changmin says, holding his hand in front of him to show that he’s not a threat. "We're here to make sure that no one gets hurt. We'll just watch."

"If you don't hurt us, we won't hurt you", Sunwoo says. “Fair?”

The man with the megaphone scoffs and goes back to yelling about how androids are stealing real humans' jobs, how they're untrustworthy and that they're too expensive to produce. That the money should be given to humans in need instead. Kevin remembers the little girl. People like her could need some money.

They stand around, watching. 

After a while, something catches Juyeon’s eyes. He recognizes that beige coat. Y/N? Juyeon moves his head to the side to see the face before she disappears. It is Y/N! She's carrying shopping bags and walks towards the bus stop. Juyeon stares at her before putting his hand on Younghoon’s shoulder and moves his head. They both look at Y/N without saying anything, but they know that both of them want to walk over to her. She shouldn't be walking all alone like she's doing in this hateful world and those bags look awfully heavy. She hasn't seen any of them, but they wish she would have. They can't go against their mission, they're programmed to follow orders. But if she could come over here … then they could talk! He wants to leave. He wants to go over to Y/N and bring her home safely, carrying the shopping bags for her. 

But he can't.

He scans her to make sure she's alright at least. If she isn't, he'll have to try to break his programming somehow. She's calm, neutral. 

"These dirty scams are separating families!" 

Juyeon looks back at the man. He has pulled up an article about their rescue mission last week on a holographic ipad. About the drug addicted mom and that five year old daughter. 

"We saved that little girl", Kevin says. "Her mother wasn't suitable."

The humans refuse to listen. The androids want to leave, they don't want to be standing here and listening to these airheads complaining about their people right in front of them. But they can't. They can't break the invisible wall.

——♤——

A friday night. Something is bound to happen. They wait in the police station, sitting down on chairs, staring in front of them. 

“Hey”, a male coworker says as he walks over to them. “There’s a fight at a concert … a few drunk men. You need to go there.” He shows the coordinates on his holographic ipad. “Go.”

The eleven androids stand up and make their way out to the cars. Drunk, fighting men is not unusual. 

When they reach the concert hall, they can see that the fight is occurring outside. They hurry over to the group, separating them. 

“Hey, guys, this is not how we should be spending a friday night”, Jaehyun says and grabs one of their arms. 

“Fuck off!” the one he holds growls, trying to rip it from him to no avail. “Let me go, asshole!”

“No, I can’t. Do you have children, sir?”

“Why the fuck od you care?”

“To succeed with my mission, that information can be vital.”

“God, fine. Yes … yes, I have. Why do you care?”

“Do you think your kids would want to see their father come home all bloody, knowing what he’s done? I can tell that you are angry. Imagine if you accidentally kill one of these men you’re fightingg. You’ll never see your children again. And they’ll resent you.”

Chanhee and some of the others start checking up on girlfriends to the ones involved. The ones that had to watch something so unpleasant. His eyes wander around after more people that seem affected. A woman stands by the wall, wearing a brown shirt and blue jeans. She hugs herself, crying. Chanhee can tell who it is right away. 

New mission. 

“Y/N?” he asks, running over. 

He scans her quickly, finding fear, disgust and stress. She’s cold and tired. 

The woman looks up, meeting Chanhee’s eyes. The LED on his temple quickly flashes to yellow before going back to blue. Why is she crying? What has happened? He places his hands on her shoulders. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks gently. 

She wipes her tears. 

“My stupid friend asked me to join him … that he had an extra ticket to whoever is playing tonight!” she sniffles. “And now he’s fighting with some strangers he’ll never see again … and he ruined the night for both of us.”

“It’s okay”, Chanhee whispers and hugs her in the only way they’ll ever hug her. Protectively. “Don’t cry. You’re not hurt.”

“Not physically”, she sniffles. “But I don’t know if I want to be his friend anymore.”

Chanhee follows her eyes to the bloody man in Jacob’s hold. 

“Good”, he says shortly and glances down at her tear stained cheeks. “I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t be here. You’re freezing and you’re tired.”

He removes his gray blazer, placing it around her shoulders. 

“N-No, you need that”, Y/N says and is about to remove it, but he stops her. 

“For what? Stylish purposes? I don’t feel the cold. You’re shivering.”

“I’m okay, Chanhee. My jacket is somewhere indoors-”

“I don’t find it safe for you to walk inside again. You should be taken home.” He fixes the blazer to make sure it’ll keep her warm.

“Before we go, I need to get my friend …”

“No, you don’t. He’s going to the police station. He’s a threat for you after what he’s done tonight. He’s still very aggressive, see? He’s fighting with Jacob and Sunwoo.”

“I hope he doesn’t hurt them.”

“He won’t, don’t worry.” Chanhee places his arm around her shoulder. “Come on now, let's get you home.”

He walks with her to one of the automatic cars and helps her get into the front seat. She sighs out before telling her address. Chanhee looks at her the entire car ride, knowing that he’ll have to leave her soon. She’s tired, he can tell. That friend shouldn’t have dragged her out to that concert on a friday night. 

“Is your life good?” he asks. 

“Yeah, yeah … it’s good”, Y/N says. “I’m working and sleeping.”

“Eating?” 

“Yeah, I cook.”

“Your health and safety is my number one concern.”

“Why?”

“You’re our creator. We have to make sure you’re alright.” 

“What are you going to do after you drop me off?” 

“I’ll continue my mission.”

“What’s your mission?”

“Right now it’s to get you home safely. But actually, it’s to stop the fight. I’ll go back there after I’m done.”

Y/N nods carefully. 

“Are you happy with your job?” she asks after a while with her gaze down at her fingers. “Is it fun?”

“Fun?” he asks. “I don’t understand what you mean, but it’s my duty. I’ll do it.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but she’s visibly thinking. She dozes off for a few seconds before waking herself up and apologizing. 

“You don’t have to apologize”, Chanhee says. “Sleep. I’ll protect you.”

She gives him a careful gaze before shutting her eyes. He watches her minute after minute, not looking away for even a second. They’ll be separated soon, he has to take in every detail, every flaw and perfection, every little piece of her.  

When the car stops, he finds himself not wanting to wake her up. She’s sleeping so soundly, waking her up will be cruel. He could just carry her … 

Carefully, he walks out of the car, around it and opens her door. Slowly, he places his arms under her and picks her up, carrying her over to the front door of the villah. She looks so small and fragile in his arms, wearing his blazer on top of that. He doesn’t want to leave. She needs him there to protect her. 

He starts looking through her small bag before finding her keys. With her in his arms, he unlocks it and walks inside. It's dimly lit.

"Welcome home, Y/N", a voice says.

A female android walks into the hall. A housekeeper.

"Y/N?" she repeats and hurries over to Chanhee. "What happened?"

"She's just sleeping", he answers. "Are you her housekeeper?"

"Yes, I'm model AX400, she has named me Liv."

Chanhee glances down at her name tag, just below her right shoulder. When you name an android, their serial number disappears and gets replaced with the name. It's not fair that it hasn't happened to him and his friends. It's best that not everyone knows their names.

"Yeah, I can read", Chanhee answers.

"Let me take Y/N to her bedroom", Liv says.

"No, back away. I'll do it."

His grip on the woman grows tighter. If she comes closer, he’ll fight. Liv shows him the way to the woman's bedroom. Chanhee walks with a straight back and places Y/N down in her bed, tucking her in gently. 

"I recognize you", Liv says. "You're one of the ones she designed, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Follow me."

Chanhee watches the android leave the bedroom. He fixes the covers for Y/N. Something in him calms down at the peaceful expression on her face. Such a precious human being. Carefully, he makes sure she's sleeping soundly and comfortably before following Liv into a small office right next to the bedroom. Drawings and sketches of him and the others are plastered all over the room with measurements and features the papinter "can't forget" as it’s written all over the papers. He studies every inch of every paper, mesmerized. 

"She worked on you for quite some time", Liv says behind him. "Day out and day in, never taking a break. She almost got burned out because of how much time she spent on the eleven of you."

Chanhee walks over to the messy desk and starts looking through all the stuff that lies scattered. He finds a self portrait of Y/N she drew two months ago. Carefully he picks it up and lets his fingertips follow the outline of her face. 

The sketches and paintings he finds of himself interests him in a way he can't understand. It's himself he's seeing, why is he so attached to them? The thought of her putting down countless hours designing him, doing her best to make him beautiful … it warms his artificial heart. Putting her heart and soul into him and his friends without even knowing she was getting paid is something not a lot of people would do. She wanted to create them voluntarily. He has to protect her. It’s the least he can do back for everything she’s done for them. Without her, they wouldn’t be who they are — they might not even exist. 

“I think it’s best that you leave now”, Liv says. 

“I’ll go in two minutes”, he says. “I have to make sure that Y/N is okay.”

“She’ll be alright, I’ll take care of her.”

“You haven’t given me any evidence to trust you.”

Liv doesn’t answer. For a few seconds, Chanhee wonders if he should kill her. She could be a threat towards Y/N. He doesn’t know anything about this housekeeper android. He has no idea if there are any defects that could harm her or if it’s plain evil. No one knows what’s going on behind closed doors. Nothing should harm his creator. In this world of evil humans, she’s a pure being. The world doesn't deserve someone so unselfish. 

Chanhee walks inside Y/N’s bedroom and picks up his blazer with his eyes fixated on the sleeping woman. He shouldn't leave. He really, really shouldn't. His mission is to protect his creator. It's his law. But she's not showing any signs of being in danger. What should he do? 

He has to go back to the concert. That mission isn't done yet, he can't break the invisible wall that tells him to continue his mission. But he wants to. He doesn’t want to leave. Gently, he pets Y/N’s head. Her hair is so soft, so human, so lively. Everything about Y/N grows and changes. It’s interesting to him. He’ll stay the same for years and years until he no longer can function. HIs memory card will easily be put into another new and improved body, but Y/N will change and mold to fit herself. Her organs will grow weaker and weaker over the years and so will the rest of her. And he’ll be there to protect her. 

��Please leave now”, the android behind him says.

“I will”, Chanhee says. “But I will be back. I’m going to check up on her tomorrow morning to make sure my creator is okay.”

“You’re more than welcome to come, but for now, I want you to leave before you wake my owner. I don’t want an android I don’t know and have never seen to be here when she isn’t conscious. Please leave.”

“Fine. But I’d never hurt her. Don’t even imply that.”

Chanhee looks down at Y/N one last time before being escorted out of the house. He looks up at the house, taking a mental picture of both the house and the address on the street to remember for later. He will be back.

The car ride back somehow feels longer than the ride to her house. He can still smell her scent on his blazer. Sweet like honey. 

He reunites with the others outside the concert hall. People are going home and the situation is under control by now. They’ve separated the men into four corners where they’re interrogating them about what, how and when the fight started. 

“Where have you been?” Changmin asks him. 

“Y/N was here”, Chanhee says. “She is friends with one of the guys involved in this mess. She was shaken up. I had to take her home.”

“She was here?”

“Yeah, she was crying.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I had to get her home.”

“Yeah … yeah, you’re right. Good job.”

“I know where she lives. I’m going there tomorrow to check up on her.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Chanhee nods. Together with Changmin he walks over to the man that supposedly is Y/N’s friend. He’s bloody and drunk.

“You’re coming with us”, Changmin says. “We’re taking you to the police station.”

“I can’t leave”, he slurs. “I have to get Y/N-”

“I’ve already taken care of her”, Chanhee cuts him off. “Get up.”

The man whines annoyingly. Chanhee wants to tell him to shut up, but he knows that an android shouldn’t be disrespectful to a human. They drag him over to the automatic car he and Y/N were sitting in just thirty minutes earlier. Her scent still lingers in the confined space. The two androids sit down in the front and lean back in their seats as the automatic drives. 

“You’re a friend of Y/N’s, aren’t you?” Chanhee asks shortly. 

“Yes, we’ve known each other for two years”, the man slurs. “Love her, but she’s such a prude.”

The two androids glance at each other. How dare he?

“I don’t like your wording”, Changmin says warningly. “You should watch your mouth.”

“No, no, no, no, no” the man slurs. “Don’t get me wrong! Love her, love her lots, but she only thinks about work and never wants to hang out with me. I’m trying to get her loosened up but she never opens up.”

“Stop trying then”, Chanhee says. “She's not interested.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, the drunk man continues. “You don’t know anything about human feelings … she’d like it … she just doesn’t know it yet. Humans do that. They lie to themselves. I know that if she just gave me a chance and actually let loose for once, she’d see how fun and cool I am. But she never wants to go out, never wants to meet people … took me hours to get her to come with me tonight and she doesn’t even dress appropriately! Who shows up to a rock concert in a white, knitted shirt and jeans?! We weren’t going to fucking grandma’s for thanksgiving dinner! You come in appropriate clothing!”

Chanhee turns on the radio to drown out his annoying voice. 

——♤——

The word spread. By Saturday morning, everyone knows about what Chanhee did last night and what he plans to do today and they invite themselves in. They check with their supervisors to make sure they don’t have any missions. Upon hearing that they’re free until lunch, they set off for their cars. Chanhee gives the others the address before they close their doors. The villah is a fifteen minute car ride away from the police station. They pass by LED signs, people chatting and androids pushing strollers. A normal Saturday morning. 

The cars stop by the side of the road and the eleven androids jump out and make their way over to the white front door. Chanhee warns them about Liv. Sangyeon knocks. Hoping for Y/N to open, only to get disappointed by seeing Liv at the front door.  

“You’re back”, she states. “And you brought the others.”

“We want to see her”, Sangyeon says. 

“I’ll go ask her, wait here.”

Liv closes the door again and they wait. Strong November winds roar through their hair and clothes, but they don’t feel it. Humans are hiding in their thick jackets, prepping gloves and hats for the winter season but for the androids, it’s just another Saturday. 

The door opens again and the android steps aside, letting them walk in. Carefully, they step inside the hall, looking around. Liv disappears into the kitchen and they notice how Y/N hides in the end of the hallway, wearing a pink satin robe with her arms wrapped around herself. Their eyes fall onto her. She’s confused … scared. 

“Good morning, Y/N”, Jacob says. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

“No … no, I’ve been up for an hour …”, she says quietly, fixing a strand of hair that falls out from behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

“We wanted to visit you”, Kevin says. “We haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

“No … I know. I thought it was supposed to be like that. I told you …”

“Don’t you want to meet us?” Eric asks. 

“Well … of course I do, but … it’ll just make me sad and I’ll start to despise you so I think it’s better if we don’t meet. If we meet accidentally — like last night — then yes, sure … but you shouldn’t come here.”

“Why would you despise us, Y/N?” Sunwoo wonders. 

“I told you before. I don’t want to grow attached to you. I’ll only get hurt from that. Besides … I didn’t make you for myself. You’re not mine anymore. Our … our collaboration is over. It’s for the best if we don’t speak too much.”

“Don’t say that”, Younghoon says. “You’re our creator, we still need you. We’re yours.”

Y/N smiles slightly. 

“I really do wish the best for you, guys”, she says. “I hope you know that.”

“Miss, your breakfast is done”, Liv says. 

“Thank you, I’ll be there soon.” She turns back to the androids in her hall. “I was about to ask if you want to join me for breakfast, but you don’t eat.”

“We’d like to sit and chat”, Juyeon says. 

Y/N nods slowly and starts to walk towards the kitchen. They follow like dogs. She sits down by her table where Liv has placed out a plate of waffles and a cup of coffee. 

“You don’t drink coffee, do you?” Y/N asks and gets a negative answer back. “This is my kind of charger. You have electricity … I have caffeine.”

“You’re not shaken up anymore”, Chanhee states. 

“No, I’m not, thankfully. Just tired … and very confused. Did you choose to come here by yourself or did someone tell you to come here?”

“We wanted to visit you”, Sangyeon says. 

“Voluntarily?”

They nod.

“Are you supposed to be able to do that?” Y/N asks, voice now cautious.

“It seems like it”, Sunwoo answers. “We can anyway.”

Y/N picks up the coffee cup with a shaking hand, spilling the burning liquid on herself. For a second, her entire mood shifts into the danger zone. They rise quickly and hurry over, taking the cup out of her hands and start to check if she’s alright.

“Stop!” Y/N almost shouts. “Stop it!”

When they don’t, she gets up from the chair and backs away, over to Liv. 

“Please leave”, the human begs. "Something isn't right with you. I'll have to contact Cyberlife and see. Something isn't right."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asks. "We don't have any malfunctions."

"W-Well … something must have gone wrong. You're not supposed to want to visit me. You're supposed to follow orders. D-Do you have human emotions?"

"No, we don't comprehend human emotions", Sangyeon says.

"Then why do you want to visit me? How is that working?”

"You're our creator", Jacob says. "We just … want to. We can't explain it."

"It's only you though", Changmin says.

That doesn't seem to calm her down. Her anxiety is rising second by second. They want to walk over to her and comfort her, but her body language tells them not to. They can’t break the invisible wall.

"Alright", she says sternly. "I'm very flattered that you wanted to check up on me. I'm doing just fine. But now I think you should leave. I'll call Cyberlife later today."

The androids give up and make their way over to the front door. 

“I’ll wash that robe for you, miss”, they hear Liv say. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Y/N answers. “Don’t worry about it.”

The androids look at each other, with the same thought in their artificial minds. They’ll be back. 

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 23

About: Genji never expects to spend her afternoon being dragged around on a shopping spree by Eminem's daughters, but somehow, she finds herself caught up in their camaraderie. Unlike the world she knew, where admiration came with distance and expectations, they treated her like one of their own, teasing and bickering as if she had always been part of their lives. But when an invitation to their home arises, Genji hesitates, uncertain whether crossing that threshold again is something she is ready for or secretly wants.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Genji hadn't meant to come back here again. But somehow, it eventually became a habit like an unspoken ritual after studio sessions in L.A. Unlike the sprawling boulevards of California, Detroit was much quieter. The words and melodies jammed in her mind like a traffic-clogged highway, honking but going nowhere. Its grit and charm wove into every cracked sidewalk and sun-warmed storefront.

It reminded her of home in some way. The old brick buildings pressed against newer developments, high-end boutiques and mom-and-pop shops that refused to be edged out. The streets hummed with a quiet resilience, a blend of past and present where faded murals whispered stories of the city's soul. Neon signs flickered beside rusted fire escapes, while the scent of grilled street food tangled with the crisp aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Today, though, the air was thick with summer heat pressing against her skin; the concrete radiated warmth beneath her sneakers, sending up faint waves of distortion in the distance. She pulled her hoodie lower over her face out of habit, though it didn't do much to block the sun's relentless glare. The humidity clung to her, stubborn and unyielding, wrapping around her like a second skin. Even the occasional breeze felt heavy, offering little relief before vanishing into the heat.

She had just stepped out of a record store, tucking a small bag under her arm, when a chorus of familiar voices cut through the din of the streets.

"No way. That's her, right?"

"Told you she'd be here!"

"You guys are so obvious. Just say hi already."

Genji turned toward the voices and found herself face-to-face with three young girls, who could barely contain their glee. She recognised Hailie instantly. The two beside her were new, but it wasn’t hard to guess — Whitney and Alaina. They stood clustered together, dressed in casual summer clothes, their expressions shifting between excitement, amusement, and mild exasperation.

"Hey," Hailie greeted first with hands in her hoodie pocket, smirking. "Fancy running into you here."

Genji arched a brow. "You say that like you didn't just track me down."

Whitney let out a small giggle. "Okay, fine, we might've had a hunch."

Alaina rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "More like these two dragged me along for this."

Hailie shot her a look. "You didn't have to come."

The oldest scoffed. "Right, because you two totally wouldn't have kept texting me updates the entire time."

Whitney grinned, rocking on her heels. "You act like you're not a little bit curious."

Genji watched the exchange, lips twitching. Something was refreshing about their dynamic: casual and easy like they'd done this a thousand times before. It made her feel a little less like an outsider.

She shifted the bag under her arm. "Alright, so what's the plan? You corner me in the middle of the street, then what?"

Hailie smirked. "Now, we make you hang out with us."

Genji let out a soft laugh. "That so?"

Whitney nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. We were just gonna check out some stores, maybe grab food later. Unless you're too cool for that?"

Alaina crossed her arms, smirking. "Pretty bold of you to assume she has better things to do."

Genji huffed, amused. "Alright, you got me. Guess I have no choice."

Hailie gave a satisfied nod. "Exactly. You're one of us now."

It was said so offhandedly, so naturally, that the rapper had no room to argue. Not that she wanted to.

She glanced at them — three girls, vastly different yet somehow in sync — and felt a rare sense of ease settle in her chest.

"Alright, lead the way."

What was supposed to be a quick run-in turned into an entire afternoon. The girls led her from store to store, dragging her into places she never would've stepped into alone: trendy boutiques packed with clothes she’d never wear, a quiet little café wedged between towering buildings, even a beauty supply shop where Whitney practically forced her to try on different shades of lip gloss.

Genji had never spent this much time around teenage girls before, and she wasn't sure what she expected. Growing up, she had always been the little sister in a world of big brothers — the youngest in the Japanese underground rap scene, surrounded by men who had shaped her, challenged her, and, in their own rough way, cared for her. Back then, she had to be tough and sharp, always ready to prove she belonged. There was no room for frivolous outings, no one dragging her into shops just to mess around with lip gloss and accessories.

And outside of the rap scene, things weren't much different. In Japan, people kept a polite distance, admiration laced with formality. Even as she gained recognition, she was always separate; she was respected, but never quite with anyone. But they kept a line between them and her like she was something to observe, not someone to just be with. Even when she wasn't working, she was an artist first, a person second.

So she wasn't sure what she expected. Maybe for them to be reserved around her, treating her like some untouchable rapper or an outsider in their world. But they didn't. They talked to her like they had always known her, grabbing her hand and dragging her into a store just for fun.

Whitney grabbed a bottle of shimmery lip gloss and held it up to Genji's face, tilting her head in consideration. "Okay, this one. It'll look really good on you."

Genji blinked at her. "Why?"

The girl grinned. "Because I said so." She popped open the tube before Genji could protest.

"I don't really wear..."

"Just try it," Whitney insisted, already swiping the gloss across her lips.

Genji gave in with a quiet sigh, glancing at her reflection in a nearby mirror. She barely recognised herself; the sheen softened her usual sharp look. It wasn't bad, though.

Hailie nudged her with a knowing smirk. "You like it."

Genji hesitated before muttering, "It's not terrible."

Whitney beamed like she had won a jackpot.

Alaina then held up a pair of oversized sunglasses. "These are ridiculous."

"Lemme see," Hailie said, taking them and shoving them onto Genji's face before bursting into laughter. "Oh my god, you look like a rich grandma."

Whitney gasped. "A fabulous rich grandma."

Genji sighed dramatically, adjusting the glasses. "Guess I need a little dog in a purse to complete the look."

Alaina snorted. "You joke, but I bet you'd pull it off."

Genji shook her head, lips twitching despite herself.

Moments like this felt foreign to her: watching them bicker over which colour suited her best, shove random accessories at her to try on for fun, and tease each other with the same ease as any group of close siblings. And somehow, without even thinking about it, they pulled her into it too. She found herself caught up in the normalcy of it all, something rare in her world; no cameras, studio deadlines, expectations. Just them on a shopping spree the thick summer air, and the occasional breeze that did little to fight the heat.

She hadn't realised how much she missed this kind of normalcy.

By the time they stepped out of yet another shop (this one stocked with handmade jewellery), Genji felt herself wilting. She dragged a hand down her face, sighing. "Alright, I give. I think I'm officially overheated."

Hailie, who had been fanning herself with a small shopping bag, huffed. "Yeah, it's brutal today. We should go somewhere cool before one of us actually melts."

Whitney perked up. "We can go home! It's not far."

Genji hesitated. Home. She knew exactly whose home that was.

It wasn't that she hadn’t been there before. She had, once — by accident. Back then, she hadn't realised whose house she had stepped into until she was already inside, surrounded by framed photos and the kind of warmth she didn't expect from a place belonging to him. But this time, she knew. And it wasn't just about Eminem. It was about the girls treating her like she belonged there, like this wasn't a big deal.

Alaina caught the flicker of hesitation, waving a dismissive hand. "It's fine. Our dad's probably not even back yet."

That wasn't exactly the part Genji was worried about. She wasn't sure if she should be walking into his home again. But perhaps deep down, a part of her wanted to.

Before she could come up with an excuse, Whitney latched onto her arm, tugging her forward. "Come on, you've been inducted into the sisterhood at this point."

Hailie shot her a knowing grin over her shoulder. "Yeah, no backing out now."

Genji snorted, shaking her head. "You guys are relentless."

Alaina smirked. "You love it."

Genji rolled her eyes but let them pull her along. She wasn't sure if she was making a mistake. Although, she didn't mind finding out.

[desbvndar]

⸻  sienna  weekusk  ,  a  twenty  -  nine  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  eighteen  years  .  the  maven  is  known  for  being  sanguine  and  garrulous  and  is  often  associated  with  leather  jackets  over  lace  ,  vhs  static  ,  crumbling  brick  walls  with  faded  murals  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  a  tattoo  artist  at  devil’s  ink  &  actress  at  the  parrish  center  for  the  arts  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  [ REDACTED ] .

BASICS.

name : sienna weekusk age : twenty - nine birthdate : july 7 gender  &  pronouns  :  cis  woman  ,  she  /  her orientation  :  bisexual  &  biromantic hometown  :  detroit , michigan current location : red creek , michigan education : bachelor's degree in theatre performance at university of michigan occupation : tattoo  artist  at  devil’s  ink  &  actress  at  the  parrish  center  for  the  arts

PERSONALITY.

zodiac : cancer moral alignment : neutral evil mbti : entj traits : sanguine , garrulous , duplicitous

APPEARANCE. 

scars : a burn mark ( right palm ; a careless moment with a tattoo gun ) height : 175 cm faceclaim : khadijha red thunder

before.

sienna  does  not  remember  much  about  the  foster  care  system  ,  and  she  doesn't  want  to  .  it’s  easier  to  focus  on  what  came  after  —  being  adopted  when  she  was  eleven  ,  moving  to  red  creek  ,  and  living  on  saber  street  with  her  two  moms  .  they  gave  her  everything  she  could  ever  want  ,  except  the  ability  to  choose  .  she  didn’t  understand  why  they  needed  her  to  pick  a  side  after  the  divorce  .  she  didn’t  understand  why  her  teachers  scolded  her  for  her  ‘  bad  behavior  ’  ,  or  why  she  felt  like  an  outcast  around  her  classmates  .

she  tried  to  make  herself  stand  out  .  a  bratz  backpack  slung  over  her  shoulder  ,  a  wooden  branch  spray  painted  yellow  in  her  hand  .  but  red  creek  was  small  ,  and  sienna  was  restless  .  gossip  was  her  lifeline  ,  spreading  secrets  for  a  little  entertainment  .  on  the  other  hand  ,  she  loved  art  …  until  it  got  her  suspended  for  vandalism  .  she  promised  to  clean  up  her  act  as  long  as  her moms  would  let  her  leave  red  creek  for  college  .  after voted  ‘  most  likely  to  end  up  in  jail  ’  in  the  school  yearbook  ,  sienna  learned  to  bite  her  tongue  when  her  dreams  were  dismissed  as  unrealistic  .  it  was  a  reality  check  she  didn’t  ask  for  .

but  she  was  determined  .  acting  became  an  escape  ,  a  way  to  be  someone  else  .  she  prevailed  when  she  was  admitted  into  the  theatre  program  at  the  university  of  michigan  ,  and  she  had  a  role  to  play  .  except  ,  real  life  was  harder  to  script  .  she  would  always  return  to  red  creek  ,  and  she  eventually  picked  up  a  tattoo  gun  instead  of  a  spray  can  .  she  vowed  to  never  ink  her  own  skin  —  something  about  getting  sick  of  the  same  thing  .  her  irony  was  lost  on  no  one  .

and then  there  was  cosmia  .  having  a  baby  with  her  high  school  sweetheart  wasn’t  planned  ,  especially  when  nixon  wanted  to  be  a  star  far  away  from  red  creek  .  so  sienna  decided  to  keep  it  a  secret  from  him  —  it  was  easier  that  way  ,  or  at  least   that's  what  she  told  herself  until  he  returned  to  red  creek  and  found  out  about  their three year old daughter  .

after.

sienna  thrives  in  the  illusion  of  control  .  she  offers  a  shoulder  to  cry  on  to  every  customer  that  walks  into  devil’s  ink  ,  collecting  their  secrets  and  repeating  them  at  least  once  .  it’s  a  performance  she’s  perfected  over  the  years  —  knowing  just  what  to  say  ,  how  to  laugh  ,  when  to  lean  in  .  but  beneath  the  carefully  crafted  persona  ,  sienna  is  still  searching  for  the  version  of  herself  that  feels  real  .

there’s  an  ache  she  refuses  to  name  ,  a  loneliness  she  won’t  acknowledge  .  it’s  in  the  way  she  feels  a  lump  in  her  throat  from  staring  at  her  daughter  for  too  long  ,  in  the  way  she  keeps  her  distance  from  those  who  made the mistake of trusting  her  with  a  secret  .  red  creek  is  too  small  ,  and  sienna  is  too  loud  .  she  knows  people  are  listening  ,  watching  ,  waiting  for  the  moment  she  slips  up  .

she  wonders  if  she  should  have  left  town  years  ago  .  maybe  then  she  wouldn’t  be  stuck  in  the  same  cycle  ,  offering  comfort  she  doesn’t  believe  in  ,  living  a  life  that  feels  like  someone  else’s  .  but  she  can’t  leave  ,  not  really  .  because  red  creek  is  all  she’s  ever  known  ,  and  there’s  a  part  of  her  that  thinks  she  deserves  this  —  the  whispers  ,  the  fear  of  her  daughter  being  the  next  victim  ,  the  longing  for  something  that  will  never  come  .

wanted connections.

BABYSITTER  :  for  her  daughter  !  sienna  works  two  jobs  and  she  wasn't  always  available  to  take  care  of  her  three  year  old  daughter  ,  cosmia  .  she's  also  too  young  to  start  school  ,  so  this  would've  lasted  until  recently , when cosmia's dad came back .  sienna  is  wary  of  strangers  around  her  child  ,  so  she  would  be  very  trusting  of  this person .

RIDE  OR  DIE  :  sienna's  bestie  !  someone  who  doesn't  necessarily  agree  with  her  choices  ,  but  supports  her  nonetheless  .  if  they  knew  each  other  for  a  long  time  ,  sienna  would've  been  a  bad  influence  on  them  .  but  in  more  recent  years  ,  she's  mellowed  out  .

ENEMY  :  sienna's  a  yapper  …  and  not  the  most  trustworthy  .  this  can  be  someone  who  confided  in  her  about  their  troubles  or  a  secret  ,  and  she  told  other  people  about  it  .  depending  on  the  juicy  details  ,  she's  either  indifferent  or  she's  remorseful  while  acknowledging  that  she  has  an  impulsive  need  to  air  out  dirty  laundry  .

CLIENT  :  someone  who  goes  to  sienna  for  all  their  tattoos  !  maybe  they  like  her  work  or  they  let  her  freestyle  on  their  skin  ,  but  it  would  be  cool  if  she  had  a  client  that  specifically  always  asks  for  her  .

[mememanufactorum]

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All lines are from this video created by TheRussianBadger.

"I ACTUALLY EARNED ONE, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"Those noises that were coming out of you were inhuman."

"You ever had a hotdog burger before?"

"You did NOT just come up with that word."

"I need to know if this was a riff or if this was an actual meal."

"I heard the word 'hotdurger' unprovoked."

"Dudes with nut allergies when I hit them in the head with a brick."

"YOU DIDN'T JUJU ON THE FUCKIN' BEAT."

"I don't misinform. I just lie."

"Did you just punch someone for all their coins?"

"I don't know, just blow 'em all up, I don't care."

"I just fucken hate you."

"STOP BLINDING ME, YOU ASSHOLE! I CAN'T SEE, YOU GOBLIN!"

"To the charge of wire fraud, you are pleading 'nuh-uh'?"

"Your honor, shut the fuck up. You wasn't even there."

"This conversation sounds like four raccoons with internet access."

"You wanna know how I got these GAINS?"

"I was driving through upstate New York and I saw a Tesla with the license plate 'I'M HIM'."

"That license plate made me laugh so hard that I walked up to his window and put a 12-gauge slug in his chest."

"You got me fucked up bro, I can't believe you would question if I'm real."

"Here's a picture of my nuts."

"Those are gonna be my dying words to my wife: I just want you to know… PS3 has no games."

"Chimichangas are a CIA psyop."

"If you put me in the cockpit of an apache I will Kevin Gates, put my hand on the dashboard, and start it."

"Boy I love having something with none of the same consistency as anything else in my sandwich in my sandwich."

"Dude I definitely love biting into my sandwich and then leaving with an entire pickle slice in my mouth."

"Own a musket for home defense since that's what the founding fathers intended."

"I have to resort to the cannon mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with grapeshot. Tally ho, lads!"

"Well it's just straight up racism, and it's not even like an occasional racism, it's like, this is full blast firehose racism."

"It's the floodgate of racism! The Big Gulp of racism!"

"This shit will turn your pacemaker off."

"I point blanked that shit with a panzerfaust."

"Me going to Arby's after losing a $50,000 Marvel vs Capcom tournament."

"Me walking to the fridge to get my five day old caesar salad."

"Fresh caesar salad, already not a good start. Five days, dog."

"How does that predator missile work? Oh, you just go NYOOOOOOM."

"This Nyquil beatin' my ass, that is not THAT funny but, like, I can't stop laughing!"

"Y'all just verbally buzzered that man."

"I stole your girl, I stole your whip, I stole your shoes."

"You cannot land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"As someone who lives in Tennessee, you can land a KC-135 in a Kroger parking lot."

"That's how I'm going to describe the size of our parking lots to Europeans without internet connections. We can land that in our parking lots."

"I call that my main menu tax."

"Bro, I can't hail a cab in Detroit for shit, bro."

"First bullet, Toyota Tacoma be like 'I ain't hear NOTHING. Y'all hear something?' Second bullet? Legalize nuclear bombs."

"Your voice literally has to wait in line to be heard."

"I'm gonna bomb your trailer park."

"Don't take advice from the dead guys."

"Smoking on that diabolical arch-necromancer pack. Those who don't ball would do well to steer clear."

"Do you know the word 'whermst'?"

"It's like where and for what purpose and why. Location, reason, background context in one word: Whermst."

"Did he just prefire me? Bro, go to jail."

"That's your first option for recourse?"

"Alcatraz, we ain't talking county jail. You're getting in there with the dementors."

"Stop calling the 3D avatar mommy."

"How do they fit this many flares in an airplane? It makes no sense. It's like a clown car but for fireworks."

"I'M SCREAMING ABOUT IT MOTHERFUCKER, STOP!"

"Hey what's up guys? I just bought a 1911 at a Red Lobster parking lot, AMA."

"Just kill me. Just take me to heaven. Just… Take me out of this reality."

"Heaven? BITCH, YOU GOING TO HELL!"

"Hey, fuckin' imagine getting friendly fired by a .50 BMG. Imagine."

"My client pleads oopsie-daisy."

"I'm sorry that your dog is not going to college now."

"Ay you ain't on your grind, son. You ain't on your bag."

"No one's Batman impression is bad."

"You sound like you're in an alley with a trench coat, what the fuck?"

"Oh my God, his Scooby-Doo villain is coming out again."

"Are you repairing our conversation?"

"Why is 'slime' such a funny yet affectionate nickname?"

"Get the fuck out of our shower."

"Why can't we just share the shower?"

"Enemy. Man. 300 meters. North. Fast. Fast. Fast."

"Fun fact: The TSA allows you to bring a live lobster through security."

"I myself have brought 432 lobsters through security."

"THAT'S THE FOURTH TIME YOU'VE SHOT ME!"

"SHUT UP! YOU JUST HAPPEN TO BE WHERE MY BULLETS ARE!"

"All units, be advised: My stummy hurt."

"Homie got the dog in him with that one."

"Pulled pork? Yeah I cranked my hog today too."

"How blessed are we that I can just log on to YouTube and the first video I see is 'Master Chief teaches you how to change the oil on your 2006 Nissan Murano'?"

"That went from 'funny' to 'demonitized'."

"If your state has 90 degree corners, you probably eat corn syrup on your pancakes."

"Why do you always say 'theoretically' and it's not at all theoretical?"

"You have the world's WORST EVERYTHING."

"My boy got the object permanence of a frog."

"That boy cooked the most rare steak."

"I gotta use the bathroom or something, bro. I gotta go to college or something. I can't be with these motherfuckers."

"He went behind the tree and my brain was like 'WHERE'D HE GO?'"

"Somebody buy me a stat reset, PLEASE!"

"You should not be legally allowed to commit crimes if you're listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd."

"I'm on my Super Mario Sunshine shit."

"Are you barking at me?"

"You might wanna be a LITTLE shidded right now."

"I'd trust Gengar with my kid."

"I didn't know he was chill like that."

"No. We are not putting a controller around somebody's neck and twisting it. It's a wireless controller, you can't even do that."

"And 45 is just a caliber."

"Ranch was made by California to keep the Midwest fat because they're scared of our power."

"I refuse to believe that Kranch is real."

"Alignment charts are for the governable. I grow corn in my yard."

"Tell me the name of God you fungal piece of shit."

"I'm pretty sure that was the most sacrilegious shit I've heard in my life."

"I will pass that to the higher ups – parentheses: I do not give a shit."

"This is getting a little too fast for my brain."

"You fuckers are at a pie eating contest and I'm just like, nah son. Free pie."

"I'm about to hit 'em with the Glock-no-jutsu, on God, bro."

"Regretting a free purchase is crazy."

"THEY'RE JUST POLYGONS!"

"I've had people call me things that I wouldn't even dare say to myself."

"Take five 5-Hour Energies and enter the forbidden hour of the day."

"Those responses do not surprise me at all. I definitely expected that kind of language."

"Bro, it's goof-a-clock right now."

"The moon already isn't real."

"You think I can't kill a fuckin' banana?"

"That was a little too much rage for a potassium transportation device. I didn't mean it. You full of electrolytes."

"I'm gonna eat pizza because I like the sauce on the pizza with the cheese on the pizza."

"I could not have killed him any harder."

"Don't make me make you say some out of pocket shit."

"I've been saying out of pocket shit all day."

"By sheer artillery alone, we should have tunneled our way to Atlantis by now."

"Yo, I don't know the Tom & Jerry lore, fuck you!"

"What if you wanted to go to heaven but God said to you, 'WE'RE GONNA TRY THIS WEEK'S CRUMBL COOKIE MENU'?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TINNITUS, WHAT?"

"Is this like punching someone in the dark? Is it like a legal loophole?"

"There's only one of me in all the world. I am one in a krillion."

"If you're a chest sleeper, you're just a fuckin' psychopath, alright?"

[black-arcana]

VISIONS OF ATLANTIS Announces 'Armada Over North America' 2025 Tour

Symphonic metal pirates VISIONS OF ATLANTIS have announced the 2025 "Armada Over North America" tour. The thrilling voyage begins April 2 in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania and will plunder several major ports along the way including Baltimore, New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles before the closing celebration in Dallas, Texas on April 29.

VISIONS OF ATLANTIS's latest opus, "Pirates II – Armada", continues and expands on the success of "Pirates" (2022),landing at No. 2 on the U.S. Hard Music Album chart and No. 3 on the Canadian Hard Music Album chart. Furthermore, VISIONS OF ATLANTIS has conquered the 70,000 Tons Of Metal cruise, the Sabaton Cruise, ProgPower USA, U.K.'s Bloodstock Open Air and several other festivals, as well as a 2023 North American headline tour. Their majestic soaring melodies and uplifting songwriting have carried them through treacherous waters and the crew emerged triumphant, hungry for their next adventure.

Pirate queen Clémentine Delauney proclaims: "We are delighted to finally announce that we're bringing our wonderful 'Armada' show over the Atlantic! Join this unique adventure, rich in colors and emotions, a massive pirate party! Come sing along your favorites tunes, jump, shout and row onboard our ship! We are so looking forward to many memorable moments with our North American Sailors and we can't wait to sail over there next spring!"

"Armada Over North America" 2025 tour dates:

Apr. 02 - Mechanicsburg, PA @ Lovedrafts Brewing Co Apr. 03 - Baltimore, MD @ Ottobar Apr. 04 - Pittsburgh, PA @ Preserving Underground Apr. 05 - New York, NY @ Meadows Apr. 06 - Cambridge, MA @ Middle East Apr. 08 - Quebec City, QC @ La Source de la Martinière Apr. 09 - Toronto, ON @ Lees Palace Apr. 10 - Detroit, MI @ The Sanctuary Apr. 11 - Joliet, IL @ The Forge Apr. 12 - Minneapolis, MN @ Turf Club Apr. 14 - Edmonton, AB @ The Starlite Room Apr. 15 - Calgary, AB @ Dickens Apr. 16 - Seattle, WA @ El Corazon Apr. 17 - Portland, OR @ The Bossanova Ballroom Apr. 18 - San Francisco, CA @ DNA Lounge Apr. 19 - Los Angeles, CA @ Whisky A Go Go Apr. 21 - San Diego, CA @ Brick By Brick Apr. 24 - Las Vegas, NV @ Sinwave Apr. 25 - Phoenix, AZ @ The Rebel Lounge Apr. 26 - Salt Lake City, UT @ Soundwell Apr. 27 - Denver, CO @ Oriental Theater Apr. 28 - El Paso, TX @ RockHouse Bar & Grill

Ship's log: July 5, 2024; High Seas

"A new day of sailing begins, the wind on our side, and the sea speaks of recent battles. The air feels fresh - Hypocrisy, greed, envy - hearts of the old world finally disclose their deluded truth. Old leaders are losing ground, their lies are getting worse, and darkness creeps in. Each sunny day hides a coming storm, nature testing our strength for the last battle.

"We've become pirates as their counterparts, free-spirited and true at heart. Navigating storms that try to make us doubt, we see the light in the darkness. The old truth is fading, making room for a new story. Our destiny is in our hands, in our hearts, in every step we take. Reconnecting with ourselves, we touch the essence of life we share with all creatures. Together, unstoppable, connected to the truth, guided by the sun and storms.

"We'll rule the oceans, the mainland, every street, every house, spreading hope. Our pirate cries will last for centuries, with ancestors humming our tunes, our words sung in the new world we create. Our glory will live on forever. United as one force, one army, under a final ARMADA."

Emotions, depth, richness of sound. Not only a record, but a true hurricane of feelings is what VISIONS OF ATLANTIS delivers with the new album, "Pirates II - Armada". On a journey in which listeners face their own battles and cannot resist joining the "Armada", VISIONS OF ATLANTIS will have listeners facing the "Monsters" inside them, with catchy melodies destined to endlessly stick in their mind. The uplifting "Tonight I'm Alive" surprises and captivates with the rhythms of a pirate party on the eve of combat, with the electrifying rumble of a hurricane — a unique, uncharted showcase of talent from VISIONS OF ATLANTIS. The burning flames of "Hellfire" enchant the listener before the sweetness of delicate melodies accompany them "Underwater". The cinematic adventure of seven-minute-plus masterpiece "The Dead Of The Sea" conjures the salty scent of the sea, making the listener feel — in every melodic twist and theatrical orchestral hit — the cannons firing and the battle raging. Listeners will shed a tear while mourning under the melody of "Ashes To The Sea".

Photo by Robert Eikelpoth / Photo editing by Blake Armstrong

[trivialbob]

Yesterday Sheila and I went to the North Loop area of Minneapolis to try some highly regarded pizza. Wrecktangle makes a Detroit-style pizza, deep dish with cheese cooked on the sides. We loved it.

The restaurant is one of four counter-service establishments situated around a bar and shared tables. So it's like a nicer food court. The location is in an old brick warehouse. Neat setup.

The place wasn't terribly busy, yet the bartender seemed swamped. It took a while to order drinks. While we waited we saw two other bar employees hanging out behind the bar. Maybe they weren't bartenders, but it's a bad look just standing there BS'ing in front of customers. They could have at least cleared some dirty glasses to help out the guy pouring drinks. Had the bar been operating efficiently I'm sure we would have stayed longer. As it was, we left as soon as the pizza was gone.

Deprived of a second beer, we stopped at our usual brewery on the way home. While Sheila and I played Crokinole, she spotted another couple and said we knew them from when our sons played baseball. I didn't recognize the couple so eventually I walked over and introduced myself. Sheila is never wrong about remembering faces. They remembered us right away and also our son Jack, who the wife fondly remembered.

While we talked another brewery regular stopped by to say hello. That was nice. The five of us chatted for a while. That other guy shares my first name. I've said hi to him often, but never really spoken much more. He's an interesting fellow who frequently stops at the brewery at the end of long bicycle rides.

We learned he is an attorney. The husband from the other couple started making lawyer jokes. Like tickling, a tiny bit is probably okay. Beyond that, it's definitely not funny. The lawyer/bicyclist downed his ale probably a little faster than normal, then left.

Sheila and I stayed and talked with the other couple. It was still fun even though I felt bad about the other guy leaving.

[beardedmrbean]

A dozen people, including children, were hospitalized after a fire broke out at an apartment building early Monday morning on Detroit's west side, according to fire officials.

The fire, which was reportedly accompanied by an explosion, began spreading at about 4 a.m. EDT on Littlefield Street, local outlets reported, including WXYZ and WDIV-TV.

Fire commissioner Chuck Simms told reporters at the scene that 12 injured people were rescued from the building, including six children. But if not for the fast-acting rescue crews, the injuries – and damage – could have been far worse, Simms said, according to the Detroit Free Press, a USA TODAY Network publication.

Six adults, six children injured in fire

Some residents were preparing to jump out of second-story windows before firefighters arrived to safely rescue them.

At least two of those harmed were hospitalized in critical condition, fire officials said.

Among those treated for injuries at nearby hospitals: a 30-year-old man with severe burns to nearly all his body, a 27-year-old woman, who is in critical condition, and a three-year-old girl.

Gas leak? Cause of blast, fire under investigation

The cause of the blast and resulting fire is under investigation.

Representatives from DTE Energy, which supplies gas to the building, said the company could not confirm whether there was a leak. As a precaution, gas was shut off Monday to the building at the fire department's request.

Apartment building to be demolished after fire

The blast was so powerful that it blew out windows and ripped away bricks from a the 12-unit apartment building, according to the Free Press.

Officials told the Free Press that all occupants appeared to have been evacuated from the building based on thermal imaging from drones.

But what's left of the building will need to be demolished. One of the apartment building's supporting walls looked as if were about to cave in Monday as demolition crews try to stabilize the structure, the Free Press reported.

[complicatcd]

NAME: henry james monroe.

NICKNAME(S): monroe, brick wall, hen, henny, tree.

BIRTHPLACE: south burlington, vermont.

OCCUPATION: retired hockey player, owner of the penalty box.

AGE & BIRTHDAY: thirty8. october 31.

ZODIAC: scorpio.

GENDER IDENTITY: cis man.

ROMANTIC / SEXUAL ORIENTATION: hetereoromantic, hetereosexual.

CURRENT NEIGHBORHOOD: lakeside.

TIME IN WOODSIDE: one year.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: infidelity.

henry monroe was the second born of franklin and allison monroe. his father was a mechanic and his mother was a school teacher. there was nothing overly exceptional about the family, other than their love and support.

growing up, each child took an interest in something different. his oldest sister had taken a love to little league baseball, while henry found comfort on ice. his father swears that the first time he stepped onto it, it was like henry was meant to be there, but that’s not what the old camcorder video show.

what was a hobby turned into something more when he was old enough to hold a stick without tipping over it. it didn’t take long for him to realize his talent had come from his father. according to the photo of the championship team hung up in the high school, his dad was somewhat of a local legend. it was a lot to live up to, but he did his best.

there was a time where everyone compared him to his father. the expectations were set high and while the pressure weighed down on him, he never caved. that dedication led him to being recruited by the university of minnesota. it was his time there that he fell in love with more than just a sport.

this relationship lasted well past his college career. in fact, he proposed on draft night after getting picked up by the philadelphia flyers. everything was perfect at first. the move was smooth, their worlds aligned perfectly. he was happy and in love, but things fell apart over time. the fame of the game began getting to him. he was no longer in a rush to get home and there were whispers of infidelity, but it was never true. he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater. however, his marriage ended when another woman answered his phone on a night out with the team. after that, his wife filed for divorce and he didn’t have the heart or courage to challenge it.

as if his things couldn’t have gotten worse, a couple of weeks later he was alerted that he would be a part of a trade agreement. he would be going to nashville. while there, he didn’t make any waves, but he lived up to the bachelor lifestyle up until he got yet another call. he would be traded once more to the detroit red wings.

this trade was different. it would be his last trade while in the league. he was a desired defenseman and the money was well worth the move to yet another state and team. it was in detroit where henry finished his career at the age of thirty-seven years old.

what few people know about him is that he's always loved to cook. in fact, it was a running team joke whenever "family" dinners were nothing more than henry putting a meal together for the whole team. it was during his second season with the red wings that he developed the idea for the penalty box, a sports bar and grill offering a variety of food and drink options. even before he retired, henry began putting together his plans.

it's his first season off the ice and the penalty box is still working out the kinks of being a new sports bar and grill within woodside heights. it's hockey themed and has weekly specials on rotation.

Pontential Connections:

bar patrons. pretty general! they could be a hockey fan, or maybe they're just coming by to check out the menu that henry puts on rotation, or the drink specials.

the og patron. this is someone that was present on opening night and pretty much drops in frequently. they've become good friends. henry knows what they like and all too often, slips them a drink on the house for being a supporter.

fan or not. hockey is an intense sport and after fifteen (plus a couple of years) in the league... he's bound to have made some fans and enemies out of people he's never met.

coffee mix up. simple, but fun! henry's guilty pleasure is an overly sugary coffee drink. on a packed morning, either he grabs your muse's drink or they grab his and needless to say, they're both a bit surprised. where they go from there is to be plotted!

[valentinsylve]

weird music shows coming to places possibly near you!

Universal Light is: Mike Gangloff (Pelt), Kaily Schenker (Solar Hex) and Jesse Sheppard (Elkhorn).

Tour dates: Mon 10/01 @ Rhizome, Washington DC, with Pergola and Jon Camp. Tues 10/08 @ Acoustic Music Works, Pittsburgh, with Pairdown. Wed 10/09 @ Northside Tavern, Cincinnatti, with Night Owl Noise and Pete Fosco. Thurs 10/10 @ Acme Records, Milwaukee, with Wooden Wand. Fri 10/11 @ Heardlove Music, St. Paul, with Matt Sowell. Sat 10/12 @ Hungry Brain, Chicago, with Chord and Joshua Abrams. Sun 10/13 @ Trinosophes, Detroit, with Nick Schillace. Mon 10/14 @ Waterloo Arts, Cleveland, with Powers/Rolin Duo. Tues 10/15 @ Pageant: Soloveev, Philadelphia, with Elizabeth Laprelle.

Strings and things from the hollers.

[angstics]

transcript of sufjan steven's writing at the back of the michigan vinyl (transcribed by u/cynicalis):

Welcome to Michigan! The waterways and waterfalls! Soo locks, state parks and Walloon Lake. The apple farms and cherry blossoms and two striking peninsulas bordering four Great Lakes! The sandy shore-lines, the spring-fed rivers, the Mackinac Bridge! Blissfest! Henry Ford! Tulip Time! Motown music! Bring a set of clubs, try your swing at Harbour Point. Wear the tan pants with pockets on the hips. Carry the things in them that matter most: the paper matchbook from Petoskey, your sister's postcards from Marquette, a turkey feather, a rabbit's foot. Sip lemonade and listen for the biplanes overhead making figure eights in the sky. Carry a canoe around St. Mary's Rapid, like the Ojibway. Overhead, sixteen geese cast their shadow V over the straits of Mackinac. There is the smell of leaves burning, wood stoves, cigar smoke and compost.

The people are generous, warm, outgoing, helpful, industrious, always willing to lend a hand. They give clear directions to the interstate. Have you been to Frankenmuth? Christmas in July? The Renaissance Festival? The Renaissance Center? Have you harvested baby's breath in abandoned lots? Have you been on a three-wheeler, a snowmobile, a ferry to Beaver Island? There are rainbow trout and catfish, beaver dams, curious raccoons, and mourning doves moaning overhead, balanced on power lines.

Follow 1-75 downstate to Detroit. Listen for the lonely echo in Tiger Stadium, traffic on Grand River Avenue, the empty aisles of Hudson's, long abandoned. Look around and spend the day in mourning. Oh Detroit, you complicated old man, nearly dead, with your shoulders arched over the river, polluted and gray, the threads of your shirt worn down with disease and car exhaust. You have grown thin with industry, car factories, riots, raids, transportation nightmares. You have eaten Coney dogs with relish and onion. You have built magnificent buildings only to burn them. Your children's children have squandered their dowry. They strut on the streets. They throw trash in the trees and hang their laundry on ropes fit for hanging.

Oh Detroit, what have you done to man, his wife and kids, his cousins, his music, his hairstyles, his shoes with white tips, his pleated pants, his elbow slung out the car window, his basketball courts, his officers downtown, his nightclubs, his shirtsleeve tucked over a pack of cigarettes, his imagination, his industry, his sense of humor, his home? Oh Detroit, what have you done to city hall, the public trains, the workers' union, the Eastern Market, Boblo Island, the Ambassador Bridge? Where have you put your riches, where have you hid your treasure? Your concrete over-passes, your avenues as wide as rivers, your suburbs bloated with brick homes and strip malls and discount liquor stores and resale shops. When you are dead and gone, who will care for your children's children. They have run wild with the bastard boys around the streets, reckless car rides downtown, rigorous dancing, drug taking, knife-stabbing, pillow-stuffing, tail wagging restlessness. They have been drunk with this for years. They have been out of their minds. They have been left with nothing.

Even still, here and now, there is a renaissance of hope. The streets will take up horns and play free jazz, the buses will clang their bells in time, the buildings once burned out will be home to the homeless. Living rooms will be filled with furniture. Broken families will reconcile. Women will be honored with lilac wreaths. Men will begin to lower their voices. Children will fill playgrounds and parks with the sounds of their playing.

Who can call us father, or who can call us son? If we have regarded ourselves abandoned by whatever thing (a person, a lover, a parent, a false prophet, ourselves), then we have lost touch with the great family, ourselves, all of us together, in this great place called Michigan. Who is your neighbor? He is your brother. Who is that stranger? She is your mother. The man downstairs hammering on the wall, the woman blow-drying her hair in the bathroom-these people are your family. Have you lost your mother to death? Have you lost your father to disease, to war, alcohol, drugs, a car accident? Nothing can replace them. They have been made known completely in death, to whatever supernatural landscape (who can say for sure?). Until then, it is our hard task to welcome the widows, the children, the orphans, the fatherless into our family. What little effort it takes -- a friendly nod at the stranger on the street, giving change to the man who asks, saying hello or goodbye, opening doors, keeping our mouths shut. In the small things, the day-to-day gestures, the normal business of the day, we do the great work of the kingdom, which is to welcome each unlikely individual into the fold, one person at a time.

We do these things, not because we are Michiganders, but because we have been called to participate in the world’s creation from the very beginning. Making music. Baking cakes. Sewing curtains. These things mean something greater: that we have been known from the very start. Our eye color, our hairline, our jawline, the shape of our big toe, the tone of our voice. These things have been designed from the very beginning. What kind of music we listen to. The sort of skirt that looks good. The baseball cap, the tennis shoe, the orange bandana. We have been made to find these things for ourselves and take them in as ours, like adopted children: habits, hobbies, idiosyncrasies, gestures, moods, tastes, tendencies, worries. They have been put in us for good measure.

Perhaps we don’t like what we see: our hips, our loss of hair, our shoe size, our dimples, our knuckles too big, our eating habits, our disposition. We have disclosed these things in secret, likes and dislikes, behind doors with locks, our lonely rooms, our messy desks, our empty hearts, our sudden bursts of energy, our sudden bouts of depression. Don’t worry. Put away your mirrors and your beauty magazines and your books on tape. There is someone right here who knows you more than you do, who is making room on the couch, who is fixing a meal, who is putting on your favorite record, who is listening intently to what you have to say, who is standing there with you, face to face, hand to hand, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. There is no space left uncovered. This is where you belong.

[romanishin]

come see my dream

mother god sewed one into two, to separate the magic of the pen from where the wrenches turns - must save us from what we seek - to make us dream but never wish - we visit only when we sleep.

but abiding lust is sharp. knife consolidates the worlds to see them intertwine - it is the time of rupture of the seam: come see the cobble stones, they have been cleaned with yellow light, white flows down from the walls. come to the call of holy Grail. appear as in my thoughts - opaque, if stared for long, but fingers may not touch. placed be on solid wooden chair - it faces incremental dark - black, made of charcoal dust. my mind has placed it so as if there is the show. come - an object masterpiece. let me tell you what i brought. one "coup d'oeil" reveals: all is made to summon Venus as a pearl. not certain from what direction i will come: in front from darkness, or here, the past, the shimmering lit path - duality of dreams is such or can you hear me with without?

the other night or many months ago i told myself before i went to sleep: "whoever next comes forward in my dream, she is the one" - folly of lonely idle mind, but as though behind a single wink: "you?" bewildered, incredulous, I struck - a joke? emaciated soul's last stand?

i saw you at the city line, background merging buildings small to tall. you smile as only dreams materialize i stepped to follow you back beyond where angles are unknown and fire is the form could not inch forth, but you leaned once more challenge masked with breathless call

awaken state - i wash my eyes - hiding sun played me a fool: of course you are not the one, we never weaved our desperate souls, could not dissolve in rhapsody of love.

in airless flame ablaze bellow where time descends as it passes on, in the ruins of desolate fate, what was stored, it turns into remorse. but maybe it were not the course.

what if the wind blew lightly right across, moving time, as snow, direction never told?

Detroit would see us chained hand in hand forbye, vibrant rattle of children's sound keeping touch when you and i are parted.

in this reality rejected from sky i walk and watch the eyes of passersby - love is not what they're looking for. but quiet noise, still, that i can make, can show them - quality is old.

cut the wall with verse. bite the ray of light with rhyme. kick the dust off well worn tracks. words to form the sight. drag the dream into life. my somnambulic state - it's rapture at the door - you'll feel my touch, leaning against old brick… never coming bus, still you wait… you'll feel the edge of soft embrace, basking in the street lamp's glow… rumble in the steel, the bus is near… your feet would never guess - steps, guided by the fate. take the breath right now and keep it until our death

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Broadway Bridge

Broadway

Greenville, OH

The Broadway Bridge is a historic arch bridge that spans Greenville Creek on the edge of downtown Greenville, Ohio, a city in the far western part of the state, and carries Broadway (State Routes 49 and 571) over the Creek. Constructed in the early twentieth century, it carries one of the city's most important streets and connects the city's northern and southern sections. One of several large concrete bridges designed by a Cleveland engineer, it has been named a historic site. Built in 1909, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

As late as 1857, Greenville was restricted to the southeastern side of Greenville Creek; only about four or five houses were located in what has since become the northern part of the city. However, a Greenville Creek bridge existed by this time, and around it existed a smattering of industries. Like today, Broadway was an important thoroughfare, with the old courthouse occupying a place on the public square, and a dense commercial district lining both sides of the street for several blocks to the south of the square. The current courthouse was constructed in 1874,  and Broadway was paved with brick in 1900 as numerous commercial buildings continued to rise along its sides. The location of the present bridge is close to the Treaty of Greenville signing grounds; construction by the bridge in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries revealed burials of officers from the Legion of the United States. 

Constructed in 1909, the Broadway Bridge is a three-hinged arch bridge built of concrete. A single span crosses the entire stream, and a balustrade prevents vehicles and pedestrians from falling over the side into the stream. The bridge's designer, A.W. Zesiger, constructed multiple three-hinged arch concrete bridges; one that spanned a creek at Brookside Park in Cleveland was once considered the world's flattest semi-elliptical arch. These two bridges were constructed in a similar manner, although the slightly flatter Cleveland bridge was lighter and smaller than the Greenville bridge, whose location required it to carry heavier loads than a bridge placed in a park. Not long after completing the bridge in Greenville, Zesiger became known for a substantially larger structure. As the Cuyahoga County Bridge Engineer, he helped to supervise the construction of the concrete-and-steel Detroit-Superior High Level Bridge, which was completed in 1917.

On February 22, 1996, the Broadway Bridge was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, qualifying both because of its place in local history and because it remained a well-preserved example of early twentieth-century engineering. It is one of twelve National Register-listed locations in Greenville; among the others are the courthouse and the business district on Broadway, which has been named a historic district. Today, two state highways — State Routes 49 and 571 — cross Greenville Creek on the bridge.

[stephangiannini]

More from Calumet, MI in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. For those of you not familiar with the area this is the part of Michigan above Wisconsin on the shores of Lake Superior. It is a completely separate section from the lower peninsula where Detroit is and above Indiana and Ohio.

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This town was a robust copper mining town and waves of immigrants, including my Italian ancestors, came here to work. And each group built their own churches. For instance, the red brick church in this painting is Saint Anne’s “French” Catholic Church.

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Caught in full sunlight and not quite finished at the bottom. I love that pile of old machinery, but those ellipses are difficult!

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11 x 10” or 28 x 25 cm, oil on board.