#old detroit brick

[saeruth]

Patio - Brick Pavers

[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. 

[mememanufactorum]

Badger’s Best of 2023 sentence starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED

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.

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 4 February 1913, legendary civil activist Rosa Parks was born. While many histories of her life depict her as a "quiet" woman who refused to give up her seat on a segregated bus to a white passenger because she was "tired", Parks was a lifelong, committed militant in the struggle for a better world. As a 6-year-old, she would sit with her grandfather who had armed himself with a shotgun to protect their family home from the KKK. Later on in her youth she armed herself with a brick to confront a white bully, and she described Malcolm X as her personal hero. Most famous for triggering the Montgomery bus boycott, she was involved in too many campaigns to mention, like supporting Joan Little, a Black woman who killed a white prison guard who sexually assaulted her, supporting women's reproductive freedom and taking part in the Black power movement in Detroit alongside the League of Revolutionary Black Workers (LRBW) and others. As Parks herself once said: “Freedom fighters never retire". And she never did, until her death in 2005. Our podcast episodes 61-62 are about the LRBW: https://workingclasshistory.com/2018/08/28/e12-the-league-of-revolutionary-black-workers-in-detroit/ https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.1819457841572691/2202219466629858/?type=3

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

My love language is misery

Chapter 1: Hurt

Fandom: Detroit Become Human Ships: one sided hankvin/established hankcon->hankconvin Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst,Hurt Gavin Reed, Supportive Hank Anderson, Supportive Connor, self harm, pining gavin, jealous gavin read, two part hurt/comfort fic, pre relationship TWs: Post SA aftermath, reference implied SA Chapter preview:

Gavin's hands are shaking so hard he drops his lighter three times onto the half frozen surface of the smokers patio. He phcking hates today. Hates Anderson. Hates his plastic replacement. Hates that he will never be good enough for anybody again…  Hates that he’s so ruined.   He’s three pulls into his second cigarette when his fist comes flying in contact with one of the four bricked pillars. Pain shoots through his split knuckles and radiates up his dominant arm into his shoulder. It still doesn't hurt as much as being alone does. Having nothing and no one. He’s old (37, a grandpa in queer math), he's damaged, (sexually traumatized beyond repair), no one wants him, at least not in the way he wants them (why the hell would they?) All that’s left for him is another 40 years on this endless, repetitive cycle, forever.  Something drops on the concrete behind him and it takes Gavin a moment to check back in and realize who and what it was.  The What was a cup of coffee, rapidly cooling and soaking into the bottom of his left pant leg.  The Who was Connor, Anderson’s new phcking soulmate, who is now just standing there silently dumbstruck, his stupid mouth gaping wide enough to catch flies. His eyes are staring at Gavin’s hand, which now that Gavin looks at it he can see it’s bleeding. Like a lot.  “PHCKING WHAT?” he shouts, the overwhelming feeling of being caught sends Gavin’s defenses reeling. Gavin watches as Connor stumbles back at the outburst. Shows fear for the first time in his presence, and it’s because he’s personally responsible.   Good. Leave me alone.  “I-I…” Connor says, looking at the empty styrofoam cup before bending to pick it up. He doesn't try and look at Gavin’s hand again, but he finds Gavin’s eyes and somehow that's worse. "Detective…” “The phck are you even doing out here Connor?” Because they are not talking about this. About him.  “I...I was bringing you a coffee.” Gavin scoffs. Yeah fucking right.  “Why?”  “...A peace offering.” A peace offering?! What did Connor fall and hit his head? “For what? Am I not leaving you alone enough?" The android blushes and Gavin can’t even begin to try and decipher what that means.  “Yes... Well, I suppose that's the root of the problem. I don't… want you to ignore me.” “So you’d rather I go back to messing with you?” “No. I just… a fresh start? Maybe? For the both of us? We are coworkers now and I think it-” “No thanks,” Gavin interrupts, “Not really looking to make any new friends.” Connor’s brow furrow and he looks genuinely upset by the rejection. Gavin doesn't know what the phck he expects. What the hell would they even have in common? Except for a hard-on for Hank.  “Very well. Can I get you something for your hand Detective? It's still bleeding.” Gavin’s disbelieving scoff is mean.  “Get the phck out of here Connor.”

[greyeyedmonster-18]

good luck rituals (old and new)

(My prompt for this years RSCandyHearts by @goodboylupin was "superstar". While I'm not sure if this is what the box of candy hearts had in mind when it was chosen, this is what I came up with and I immensely enjoyed writing it. For those of you who are unfamiliar, here is short YT clip of the "superstar" reference...

otherwise.

enjoy

xoxo)

-

Remus’s back was pressed firmly against the cool brick of backstage as he listened to the stand-up comic start to wrap up their set. Ending their ten-minute slot with a joke about travel size snacks, that was yielding little response from the audience. Though, Remus wasn’t sure if it was the material (well, not entirely sure) or the lack of audience, having refused to peek around the corner of the wings to look out into the eyes of strangers. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, and he took a breath to try to calm his nerves and the heartbeat he could feel in his fingertips. Trying to remember this is what he had been working for and dreaming about.

All the time spent busking on street corners.

Working a stupid office job making photocopies and answering phones despite how often his voice cracked.

All the time spent practicing in tiny apartments and recording on his ancient computer in coat closets to avoid upsetting his neighbors with the dulcet sounds of improvisational jazz on an alto saxophone.

Time and energy and he had finally landed himself a slot at the Black Lagoon Lounge.

Well.

An unofficial slot on a night reserved for amateurs, that was unpaid, but he had auditioned and one someone over. He was talented enough to be standing backstage, waiting for his name to be announced by the host; for the lights to dim.

Waiting for his own ten minutes in the spotlight.

He was sweating already, thin turtleneck sticking to his skin as he exhaled through his mouth before he put his saxophone down on the piano bench backstage, hearing his old music teachers voices in the back of his mind screaming bloody murder as he did so.

You’ve been nervous before, Lupin. You’ll be nervous again, and you can still do this.

He swallowed and tilted his head back to stair up at the rafters. A mess of narrow catwalks and railings.

“I can do this,” Remus whispered to himself before placing his hands underneath his armpits, fingers applying pressure against his ribcage just so. “I can do this,” he repeated, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

At least he didn’t smell.

Clean sweat.

Clean set.

“Let’s hear it one more time for Florence!” The host exclaimed, clapping into the microphone on stage. “Now this next one, I think you will really like…”

Remus picked up his saxophone and clipped it to the lanyard around his neck. His mother had knitted a pad for the back of it, bright magenta and yellow resting just below brown curls.

“All the way from Detroit…”

Inhale.

“Please welcome--Remus Lupin, his saxophone called Moony, and jazz.”

Remus snorted at the introduction, exchanging a weak smile with the Host—a man with messy jet back hair and round glasses, in purple plaid pants—as he walked onto the stage. He waited for the lights to dim slightly, blinking out into the lounge.

It wasn’t exactly the roar of the crowd.

A drunk at the back of the bar, slumped over on a stool.

A few staff pretending to be super busy, making scenes of taking a single plate left behind back to the kitchen.

The odd couple making out over their table, second drinks forgotten, in favor of touches and giggles and tongues.

And then there was him.

Remus already suffered from incurable dry mouth, having taken the route of soaking his reeds before playing, learning the hard way that he simply couldn’t conjure enough moisture on his own. His mother always said he lost everything sweating about the small stuff. But this man blinking back at him in the audience caused every drop of moisture Remus had left on this tongue to evaporate.

“H-h-i—” Remus started, his voice cracking, somehow able to turn a one syllable word into three. An impressive skill and he felt his face flush, looking down at the microphone to avoid the stare of him. “I uh, will…spare everyone here tonight a fumbled introduction, I’m not great with talking… just…I think I’ll just play, if that’s alright.”

A small chuckle.

That was the roar.

Remus made quick work of test notes.

Making sure his fingers remembered how to move.

And that his lungs remembered how to breath.

And that is mind and heart loved how it felt to be the center of attention for once for all the right reasons, watching out of his peripherals as the couple stopped making out and the staff slowed their paces as he played.

Remus went to the bar after his set, his saxophone in its case beside him, fiddling with the flimsy red straw in his whiskey and coke. He smiled to himself.

I don’t know what I just listened to, but I’m pretty sure I liked it, The Host had said after Remus exited the stage to the sound of cheers and a whistle.

“I liked your set,” came a voice and Remus looked away from floating ice cubes in his glass to see leather trousers sitting next to him at the bar stool.

“Uh, thanks.”

“I liked your audition tape too.”

“Tape?” Remus asked, panicked and finally looking up at the face that he knew belonged to black trousers. The one with the eyes he had avoided his entire set. The one with the cheekbones and the long, black curly hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail like something out of Vogue. The one who whistled at the end of his slot.

“Sirius Black—I own this place. I couldn’t make it to the auditions, but I did have them recorded…” He trailed off, with a lopsided grin, signaling the bartender. “I knew you were a good bet.” Remus nearly choked on his whiskey, and he sat up straighter on his bar stool unconsciously and Sirius laughed, “Relax, relax. I just said I liked it.”

“And I’ve forgotten every word except for thank you, and I’m…pretty sure I need to impress you further.”

Sirius laughed softly—that was the roar he heard earlier, this man— “Impress me? I just work here.”

“I’m told its part of playing the game…”

“Well, my philosophy has always been let your craft play the game for you…”

“You’re a musician?”

Another bark of laughter, and Sirius took two tattooed fingers and fished the cherry out of the top of his drink, “No, just a Lounge owner, I’m afraid.”

“Then of course you don’t know about the games. I’ve been at this for years and its always the people in charge you need to impress…”

“And you haven’t?”

“My music and…me…we’re an acquired taste, it seems.”

Sirius grinned, that cocky-lopsided one he saw earlier somewhere at his five-minute mark in his set, the one that definitely didn’t make him flush and definitely didn’t make him tongue tied now, “Lucky you then.”

“Wh-y’s,” another crack in his vocal cord, elongating syllables, “that?” Remus quickly picked up his drink and took a large gulp.

“I have a refined palette.” Sirius shrugged, “But—”

“But?”

“I have to ask what you were doing before you played.”

“Oh, I just work a stupid office job. Signatures and…filing.”

“No, backstage before you went on."

“W-What?”

“I went to go ask my brother about something, he's the annoying one with the headset running around back there, and saw you…you know…smelling your hands. Good luck ritual?”

“Oh god,” Remus smacked his hand against his forehead, “I’ll buy you a drink if you pretend you didn’t see.”

“I drink for free.”

“…Hot wings then?” Sirius laughed again and Remus winced, running his hand down his face, “I will give you the ten I made in tips tonight."

"Keep your money."

"You saw...?"

“I didn’t.”

“…Thanks.”

“I’ll just have to wait and see if you do it again next week. Find out eventually. This will be fun."

“Next week?”

“Refined palette.” Sirius said, picking up his pink drink and standing off the barstool, “You’ll get a call Monday.”

“I could kiss you.”

“Slow down there, superstar.” Sirius winked and made his way back to the center of the Lounge where he was sitting when Remus had first seen him to watch the rest of the acts.

--

Remus stood in front of the entrance of the Black Lagoon Lounge, phone stretched out in his hand, and his saxophone in the other as he pasted on a goofy grin and snapped a photo.

We’re still here! Another Saturday! Will send the recording as always.

A year ago, Remus felt lucky to have a 10-minute slot for amateur night.

And then he felt lucky to have a half hour slot to open on Saturday nights.

And then—now—he couldn’t believe his name was the one on the marquee.

TONIGHT: REMUS LUPIN, MOONY, AND....JAZZ

He waved to the security team as he walked in through the double doors, and down the stairs through black velvet curtains. He wasn’t on for another two hours but could smell the smoke and hear the soothing vocals of the singer who opened for his own opener.

It was the same every Saturday, and entirely different at the same time.

A routine he could rely on with familiar faces. The staff. The Host. The doors and his dressing room, now filled with his favorite brand of cigarettes and cards from people who had stumbled by the lounge and heard him play.

He kept his mother’s neck cushion on his lanyard.

He kept his reeds in a cup of water.

Some things didn’t change.

But now he played to full rooms. An actual crowd, the sound of cutlery clinking together accompanying his sets. Regulars who sat in the front every week and put twenties into a hat he left on the stage.

Sirius.

Who stood in the back, leaning against the bar with his long curly hair swept to the side and his array of leather clothing and whistled every time.

Every week for a year

And Sirius went from handsome man who made intense eye contact in a nearly empty lounge To Lounge owner.

To Man He Needed to Impress

To Friend

To Boyfriend.

There was a knock at the door, the backstage manager, who Remus had learned was Sirius’s brother, popping his head in to signal it was getting closer to show time.

Remus still carried his own saxophone backstage with him, not trusting anyone else to set it up just right and the way he liked it.

Remus still got nervous, like it was the first night all over again. Reveling in the sensation of his heartbeat hammering a rhythm of its own.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, placing his hands underneath his armpits, and applying light pressure.

“You have been nervous before, and you will be nervous again,” Remus whispered to himself, “And you can do this.”

“You can do this,” came a second voice and Remus opened his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sight of Sirius in front of him. The toes of their shoes were touching, and Remus sometimes wished he could spend the evening counting eyelashes on grey eyes instead of counting out beats in his head.

Lucky that there was time for both, knowing Saturdays ended with Your Place or Mine? And absent touches on freckles and scars and tattoos and ribcages and hipbones.

Sirius looked at him expectantly, “Go ahead and finish…bad luck if you don’t.”

Remus shook his head but brought his fingers to the base of his nose and inhaled deeply anyway. It was bad luck if he didn’t finish the ritual.

“Still the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever seen….” Sirius said.

“Ever?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, I have a second good luck ritual now too and its bad luck not to finish it…” Remus teased, and Sirius laughed, bringing a hand up to Remus’s chin and tilting it upward before kissing him softly.

“Good luck, superstar.”

[juuuuunaaaaaooooo]

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks for tagging me @entwinedloop <3333

1 - Remember You

Beth was naturally curious, but ever since she'd met Rio, the most mysterious and cryptic man she'd ever known, her curiosity had increased tenfold, at least about him.

2 - Time Is Running Out

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight." Beth lifted Rio's head, pinched his nose, leaned forward and put her open mouth over his. She blew to breathe air into him. When she saw no result, she stood up and started CPR again. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight."

3 - My independence would be liberation for me

Rio was just putting his black T-shirt back on when Beth came out of the bathroom, her damp, wavy hair hanging over her shoulders. She was wearing a royal blue kimono bathrobe, partially adorned with small pink and red flowers.

4 - I Dream Of Her Again (I Also Dream)

Hands, small golden-skinned hands, held a large hen's butt, half-filled with water. The child holding the container took a few steps forward and placed it on a gray and white marble counter.

5 - Love is more important than reputation

Namra was used to thinking fast, she had been educated and trained to do so, from a very young age. Her mother's goal was that she should be the best in class or even in extracurricular activities.

6 - The Bosses of Detroit

Beth was giving herself a makeover in front of the small rectangular mirror on the wall between the dining room and the living room.

7 - Beanie Or Not Beanie

1-

The first time, Beth didn't notice anything. After all, they were outside, and it was a cold winter. That hadn't stopped them from fucking in a dark alley, against a frozen brick wall. Rio's head buried in her neck, his cap tickling her skin, as she clung to him like a buoy, while he hammered away at her, like a jackhammer.

8 - A Bad For A Good

Beth held out a paper bag that contained her older child, Kenny's, breakfast. "I love you." She ruffled his hair and did the same with her other three children.

9 - Teach-A, Teach-A, Teach Me

"Are you going to kill me?"

10 - Rio and the Boland kids

As Elizabeth finished preparing the meal, Rio set the table and when he finished, he placed a kiss on her temple and walked up the stairs to join Kenny in his room. The door was open, and the 14 year old was quietly doing his homework.

Pattern : Hm... 99% of the time I start my fic by a description or a reflection about my pov character. and for brio one, I think they are 99%^^ in Beth Pov (third pov)

Everyone was already tag so...anyone who want to do it!!! It was fun!!!!

[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.

[sasquapossum]

Gotta say, we’re eating well around here since I took over the kitchen. (Not by choice BTW.) Here are some of my specialties.

Parmesan crusted fish (originally sole, but I like tilapia better; it’s also cheaper and AFAIK more ecologically correct). We call it “feesh” for some reason.

My finally-perfected “Milwaukee style” pizza (Detroit style with curds instead of traditional “brick” cheese, and sometimes kielbasa).

Awesome Chowder (chicken, bacon, corn).

Various roasted vegetables. Parsnips are better than you think. Yesterday I ate four-day-old roasted Brussels sprouts and they were delicious.

Salad or slaw with my Asian-inspired dressing (if you’ve been to Starbird Chicken you know the one) and cashews.

There’s also a rotating list of dishes that are either inherently less special, or that I haven’t developed to the same level. Still working on the perfect brisket, for example. Tonight we had “beanie weenie” which is a pretty boring “white people food” kind of thing usually, but gets a lot more interesting with real onion (Vidalia, fully cooked) and leftover double-smoked bacon. And of course some locally sourced anadama bread to go with it.

In related news, I wonder why my weight keeps creeping up.

[dustedmagazine]

Boldy James & RichGains — Indiana Jones (Self-released)

Boldy James loves to make single producer records. He makes them like there’s no tomorrow. His new one with RichGains feels different: it’s the same Boldy but with a new twist.

In an interview, the Detroit MC said that he prefers working with The Alchemist but is ready to work with any producer who will match his style. Given how much publicity (and streams) his records generate, Boldy is definitely a sought-for artist. Cuns, Futurewave, RealBadMan, The Alchemist, to name just a recent few, all singlehandedly produced music for him with varying degree of success. They all were short, sweet and very dark.

RichGains is lesser known but he has worked with Boldy James before back in 2016. Indiana Jones is a welcome change of pace for Boldy. Instead of short tracks, RichGains goes for longer ones, uses a lot of sung choruses by guest artists and live instruments. The whole tape feels like it was recorded back in the early 2000s but has only surfaced now. Boldy reminisces here about his old drug dealing days:

You don't want these, this ain't what you recommend Remember nights no sleep, couldn't catch a rhythm Now everything AMG kitted on the Benzes

Another leitmotif is the difference between the streets then and now. In “8 Days” he rhymes: “I was already the man before my fans ever knew me \ Hundred thou' platinum and ice, hundred bands in the Louie \ This the soundtrack to my life, no advance for the movie.”

The tape is almost an hour long, and with Boldy’s more relaxed than usual flow it reminds you a drive through a desert in the night. The beats and the artist’s voice both have a dreamy feel, lulling the listener but never letting him go to sleep. Usually, when Boldy’s rapping he spits out what he has to say quick and off he goes on to the next track. Here, he is no rush at all: “Babysitting all these bricks I think I need a nanny \ Lost a plug, went MIA I found one in Miami.” And he never sounded so good over guitar riffing.

Ray Garraty