#out in Detroit this week for the Battery Show

[shea-like-the-butter]

Monday, September 11th 2023

She tries her best, but it hurts her chest

[iww-gnv]

DETROIT, Sept 29 (Reuters) - Ford Motor (F.N) Chief Executive Jim Farley blasted United Auto Workers leaders on Friday, saying they were holding up a new U.S. labor agreement hours after the UAW escalated the strike that is now in its third week, with the companies and workers far apart on their demands. UAW President Shawn Fain on Friday expanded the first-ever simultaneous strike against the Detroit Three, ordering workers to walk off the job at Ford's Chicago assembly plant and GM's (GM.N) Lansing, Michigan, assembly plant. He said Stellantis was spared after last-minute concessions by the Chrysler parent. Farley's comments were unusually sharp in the middle of an ongoing negotiation, saying the union was holding the company "hostage" with demands that "could have a devastating impact on our business." He said the dispute centered around wages and benefits at new electric vehicle battery plants that have yet to start production. “I don’t know why Jim Farley is lying about the state of negotiations," Fain said in a statement responding to the Ford CEO. "It could be because he failed to show up for bargaining this week, as he has for most of the past ten weeks." The union continued its deliberate approach to the strike, choosing to walk out of just two additional assembly plants - rather than the sweeping impact of a walkout at the Detroit Three's most profitable plants that make pickup trucks. In addition, the union is trying to conserve a limited strike fund that may be strained by additional strikes at Mack Trucks facilities and Detroit-area casinos that are also represented by the UAW.

[newstfionline]

Monday, September 18, 2023

Americans broadly support military strikes in Mexico, Reuters/Ipsos poll finds (Reuters) About half of Americans support sending U.S. military personnel into Mexico to fight drug cartels, according to a Reuters/Ipsos opinion poll, though there is less backing for sending troops without Mexico’s approval. The findings show broad public support for calls by most major candidates in the 2024 Republican presidential nomination contest to send special forces into Mexico, the U.S.’s biggest trading partner, or conducting missile or drone strikes there. Some of the candidates have said they would be prepared to send military forces without first receiving permission from the Mexican government. With the United States experiencing a dramatic rise in overdose deaths related to the synthetic opioid fentanyl, tamping down the flow of narcotics from Mexico has become a major theme among Republicans. Almost 80,000 Americans died from opioid-related overdoses in 2022, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control, with fentanyl being the primary culprit.

Battle Over Electric Vehicles Is Central to Auto Strike (NYT) A battle between Detroit carmakers and the United Auto Workers union, which escalated on Friday with targeted strikes in three locations, is unfolding amid a once-in-a-century technological upheaval that poses huge risks for both the companies and the union. The strike has come as the traditional automakers invest billions to develop electric vehicles while still making most of their money from gasoline-driven cars. The negotiations will determine the balance of power between workers and management, possibly for years to come. That makes the strike as much a struggle for the industry’s future as it is about wages, benefits and working conditions. The established carmakers are trying to defend their profits and their place in the market in the face of stiff competition from Tesla and foreign automakers. Workers are trying to defend jobs as manufacturing shifts from internal combustion engines to batteries. Because they have fewer parts, electric cars can be made with fewer workers than gasoline vehicles. A favorable outcome for the U.A.W. would also give the union a strong calling card if, as some expect, it then tries to organize employees at Tesla and other nonunion carmakers like Hyundai, which is planning to manufacture electric vehicles at a massive new factory in Georgia.

Guatemala’s president-elect says he’s ready to call people onto the streets (AP) President-elect Bernardo Arévalo plans to call Guatemalans into the streets next week to protest efforts to derail his presidency before he can take office, he said Friday in an interview with The Associated Press. It would be Arévalo’s first such request since winning the election Aug. 20. Since his landslide victory, the attorney general’s office has continued pursuing multiple investigations related to the registration of Arévalo’s Seed Movement party, and alleged fraud in the election. International observers have said that is not supported by evidence. Arévalo said he has tried his own legal maneuvers to stop those who want to keep him from power, but now it’s necessary for the people to come out to the streets to support him. Arévalo, a progressive lawmaker and academic, shocked Guatemala by making it into an Aug. 20 presidential runoff in which he beat former first lady Sandra Torres by more than 20 points.

Ukraine’s Crimea attacks seen as key to counter-offensive against Russia (BBC) This week saw spectacular Ukrainian attacks on the Crimean Peninsula, hitting Russian warships and missiles. Estimates of the damage done ran into billions of pounds and raised the question: is Ukraine getting ready to retake Crimea, which Russia annexed in 2014? Crimea is a Russian fortress, so it is important not to get carried away. The Ukrainian Defense Ministry estimates that some 32,000 Russian troops were stationed in Crimea ahead of Russia’s February 2022 invasion. Russian nuclear weapons are reportedly deployed there as well. “[Ukraine’s] strategy has two main goals,” says Oleksandr Musiienko, from Kyiv’s Centre for Military and Legal Studies. “To establish dominance in the north-western Black Sea and to weaken Russian logistical opportunities for their defence lines in the south, near Tokmak and Melitopol.” In other words, operations in Crimea go hand-in-glove with Ukraine’s counter-offensive in the south.

Three Neighbors of Ukraine Ban Its Grain as E.U. Restrictions Expire (NYT) Hours after the European Union ended a temporary ban on imports of Ukrainian grain and other products to five member nations, three of them—Poland, Hungary and Slovakia—defied the bloc and said they would continue to bar Ukrainian grain from being sold within their borders. As Ukraine, one of the world’s largest grain exporters, has struggled to ship its grain because of Russia’s invasion, the European Union has opened up to tariff-free food imports from the country, a move that had the unintended consequence of undercutting prices and hurting farmers in several countries in the east of the European Union. As part of a deal meant to protect those countries, the bloc allowed some grain to transit through them, but prohibited domestic sales. Brussels’ decision to let that deal expire at midnight on Friday revived an issue that has threatened European Union unity on support for Ukraine. The Hungarian agriculture minister, Istvan Nagy, announced an extended ban that would include more products in a Facebook post early Saturday morning, saying that “we will protect the interests of the farmers.” On Friday, Poland’s president ordered that the ban be kept in place and Slovakia’s ministry of agriculture also announced a continuation of the ban, underlining that it didn’t apply to transit through the country.

Afghan Taliban Detain 18, Including American, on Charges of Preaching Christianity (VOA) Afghanistan’s Taliban have detained 18 staffers, including an American, from a nonprofit group for allegedly preaching Christianity. The Afghan-based International Assistance Mission (IAM) confirmed Friday that Taliban authorities had twice raided its office in central Ghor province this month and taken away the staff. They were taken into custody on charges of “propagating and promoting Christianity” in Afghanistan, a spokesman said. The IAM says on its website that the nonprofit group has been working in Afghanistan only to improve lives and build local health, community development and education capacity. “We are a partnership between the people of Afghanistan and international Christian volunteers, and we have been working together since 1966.”

U.S. and China Expand Global Spy Operations (NYT) As China’s spy balloon drifted across the continental United States in February, American intelligence agencies learned that President Xi Jinping of China had become enraged with senior Chinese military generals. Mr. Xi was not opposed to risky spying operations against the United States, but American intelligence agencies concluded that the People’s Liberation Army had kept Mr. Xi in the dark until the balloon was over the United States. When Mr. Xi learned of the balloon’s trajectory and realized it was derailing planned talks with Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken, he berated senior generals for failing to tell him that the balloon had gone astray, according to American officials briefed on the intelligence. The episode threw a spotlight on the expanding and highly secretive spy-versus-spy contest between the United States and China. The balloon crisis, a small part of a much larger Chinese espionage effort, reflects a brazen new aggressiveness by Beijing in gathering intelligence on the United States as well as Washington’s growing capabilities to collect its own information on China. The C.I.A. and the Pentagon’s Defense Intelligence Agency have set up new centers focused on spying on China. U.S. officials have honed their capabilities to intercept electronic communications, including using spy planes off China’s coast. The spy conflict with China is even more expansive than the one that played out between the Americans and the Soviets during the Cold War, said Christopher A. Wray, the F.B.I. director.

Villagers survived Morocco’s earthquake but lost nearly everything else (Washington Post) By all accounts, life in this village in Morocco’s Atlas Mountains was simple and good, even if it was rarely easy. Families had lived for generations in the small cluster of houses surrounded by olive and nut trees, which generated a third of the village’s income. Money from sons and daughters who grew up and moved to cities provided the rest. When a 6.8-magnitude earthquake shook the region on Sept. 8, Tiniskt was decimated in a matter of seconds. More than 50 of its 330 residents died—there was no time to wash and bury them properly. Everyone knew each of the dead. But the survivors have each other. They have spent the past week in blue, government-provided tents. On a recent morning, women ladled out milk porridge from communal pots for breakfast. Men parceled out equal portions of donated goods for each family. Boys played soccer in the dirt. Toddlers nestled into adults’ laps—it didn’t matter whose. On Thursday, Morocco’s King Mohammed VI announced an aid package to help people rebuild their homes. The villagers in Tiniskt—used to relying on each other—weren’t waiting around. A local association affixed solar lights to wooden poles to illuminate the central road. A young man collected plastic to construct a shower. Starting over was a daunting task, one man said. But it their only choice.

Adventure tourism (NYT) In 2001, a British man named Tom Morgan decided to host an extreme car race. It would start in Britain and end in what he thought was the world’s most difficult destination for most people to reach: Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, more than 5,500 miles away. He called it the Mongol Rally. Participants had to drive the worst car they could find, avoid any planning and have as much fun as possible. Only six cars raced the first year. But interest grew as people began to talk about the rally online. “It’s gone ballistic,” Morgan said. More than 2,000 teams are on the wait-list to join the next Mongol Rally. The growing popularity of the race is one example of interest in trips to remote destinations. Adventure travel companies and insurance providers are reporting record sales this year. Companies say their clients are skipping Bali or Santorini in favor of destinations with less tourism infrastructure. The number of visitors to Antarctica has more than tripled in the last decade. Nepal granted a record number of permits to climb Mount Everest this year. And car rental companies in Mongolia sold out of SUVs this summer.

[bllsbailey]

Ford pivots from EV plans to heavy-duty trucks at Canada facility

An aerial view shows Ford’s Oakville Assembly Plant in Oakville, Ontario, Canada May 26, 2023.

DETROIT (Reuters) – Ford Motor (F.N) on Thursday outlined plans to use a Canadian plant it had earmarked for a future electric vehicle to instead build larger, gasoline-powered versions of its flagship F-Series pickup truck.

Ford in April had already delayed the launch of the planned three-row electric SUVs at its Oakville Assembly facility from 2025 to 2027, citing slower than expected growth in EV demand. It said on Thursday it remained committed to those EVs and that timeline but did not say where they would now be built.

The Dearborn, Michigan-based automaker plans to add capacity for 100,000 F-Series Super Duty trucks at the facility, including the ability to use what the company called “future multi-energy technology.”

“Super Duty is a vital tool for businesses and people around the world and, even with our Kentucky Truck Plant and Ohio Assembly Plant running flat out, we can’t meet the demand,” Ford CEO Jim Farley said in a statement. “At the same time, we look forward to introducing three-row electric utility vehicles.”

Growth in EV demand globally has slowed, causing market leaders like Tesla (TSLA.O) and BYD (002594.SZ) to cut prices to stimulate sales, and legacy automakers like Ford and General Motors (GM.N) to pull back on many of their lofty battery-powered goals.

Ford, which lost nearly $4.7 billion on its EV business in 2023 and has projected it will lose up to $5.5 billion this year, said in February the next generation of EVs would be launched “only when they can be profitable.”

GM on Monday declined to reiterate its previously announced forecast that it would have 1 million units of electric vehicle production capacity in North America by the end of 2025.

Legacy automakers continue to benefit from long established factories for their gas-powered vehicles, making them more profitable than their EV models, said Sam Fiorani, vice president at research firm AutoForecast Solutions.

Ford has increasingly leaned into production of hybrid vehicles to win over consumers who aren’t ready to go fully electric. The automaker aims to quadruple hybrid production over the next few years.

These lucrative F-150 heavy-duty trucks, which are especially popular for the automaker’s commercial business, are also produced at assembly plants in Kentucky and Ohio.

The company plans to invest about $3 billion to expand Super Duty production, including $2.3 billion to install assembly and integrated stamping operations at the Oakville Assembly Complex.

The expansion will initially secure approximately 1,800 jobs at Oakville, Ford said, and result in the addition of about 220 jobs at engine and component plants after that.

Canadian automotive union Unifor was relieved to hear Ford plans to ramp up production at the assembly complex ahead of schedule.

“This new retooling plan for the Oakville plant addresses our union’s concerns with Ford Motor Co’s decision to delay new vehicle production for a period that was too long, too disruptive, and too harmful to accept,” Unifor National President Lana Payne said in a statement.

Ford’s commercial business has been a profit engine, especially as the automaker burns cash on EV production and development. The company is betting on software-related services in its commercial division to drive profits in the coming years. The unit had operating profit margins of almost 17% last quarter.

Ford and GM are scheduled to release second-quarter results next week.

Reporting by Nora Eckert and Nathan Gomes; Editing by Mark Potter

[arpov-blog-blog]

"When reminded about it, 7 in 10 Americans say in polls that they support President Joe Biden’s landmark climate and social spending law, the Inflation Reduction Act. But only about half of the country has ever heard “a lot” or even “some” about it.

A new $1.4 million advertising campaign in Michigan and Wisconsin aims to change that for voters in the two key battleground states.

TV spots set to air over the next three weeks on local channels in Milwaukee and in Michigan’s Grand Rapids and Flint areas pitch the Biden administration’s legislative cornerstone as the spark for a new manufacturing boom in a region long devastated by outsourcing.

Passed without a single Republican vote in 2022, the law pumped hundreds of billions of dollars ― by some projections, potentially trillions ― in the form of federal tax credits and subsidies into building out a domestic economy for green energy and competing directly with China. The legislation spurred what may be the dawn of a manufacturing renaissance in the U.S.: With hundreds of clean energy projects and factories to make electric car batteries and solar panels announced since Biden signed the law, federal data shows that manufacturers’ spending on construction has doubled and the U.S. has added nearly 1 million new manufacturing jobs.

So far, Republican-dominated states have reaped the biggest benefits, yet even Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp ― a Republican whose state has become a magnet for federally backed green-energy investments ― said as recently as March that former President Donald Trump, the presumptive GOP presidential nominee, would “be better than Joe Biden.”

Paid for by Evergreen Collaborative, a climate group founded by alumni of Washington Gov. Jay Inslee’s ill-fated but influential campaign for the 2020 Democratic presidential nomination, the ads offer a starkly different gubernatorial viewpoint.

The Democratic governors of Michigan and Wisconsin, who both won reelection against Republican challengers in 2022 and now enjoy higher approval ratings than Biden, appear in the ads. Trump won both states in 2016 and lost them in 2020, but polls now show the former president tied with or ahead of Biden. With Trump still polling strong despite a felony conviction, Biden’s best chance of defeating Trump in the Electoral College depends on winning both Midwestern states.

In a 30-second spot, Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, clad in a stylish black jacket, speaks to the camera from a shop floor where two workers in T-shirts assemble equipment and another welds in the background. Accompanied by pounding rock music and the governor’s narration, we see scenes of General Motors’ electric pickup trucks and Biden trotting out on stage between battery-powered SUVs at the Detroit Auto Show."

[dankusner]

GM now means gay marriage

Unbeknownst to the queer-friendly auto giant, General Motors has already paved the way for legalizing same-sex matrimony

By DANIEL KUSNER | Jan. 16, 2009

DETROIT — We're immersed in a ne-queer revolution.

Across the U.S., our LGBT family has galvanized.

Recently in Dallas, we've seen angry protests against First Baptist Church, the Catholics’ California voters, Cinemark screenings of "Milk" and no-trannies-allowed bars.

We should be damn proud of our family.

And maybe this is the Melissa Etheridge Kool-Aid that's talking, but let's consider alternatives to angry rallies.

Perhaps we could harness our "label queen" superpowers and — without permission — seize control over GM's corporate queer image.

Every time you see a GM product — Cadillac, Chevy Saab, Pontiac, Buick, GMC, Saturn and Hummer — just say the words "gay marriage."

This week, General Motors invited me to attend the 2009 Detroit Auto Show.

Even though I was an auto show virgin, it was obvious that this year was seriously fucked up.

There was no getting around it: After jet-setting into Capitol Hill, GM's ass was still beet red from that bailout spanking.

Beneath the promising alternative-fuel veneer of their 2010-12 line, you could taste a hint of "We're scared shitless."

And in Detroit— a city that's been white-knuckling it for a long time — there's no shortage of economic fear.

GM's already earned some major queer props.

Their PR outreach has been courting the LGBT market since the dawn of Y2K.

And at the Motor City auto show, GM proudly rolled out their queer employees — designers, trend watchers, technical writers, marketing peeps: This global conglomerate hires some of the best and brightest queer minds.

And let's put it out there: Some auto companies (Porsche) still pretend gays aren't buying their cars.

What's new this year?

It's all about shifting away from the piston and toward the lithium-ion batteries.

Out of the 17 newbies, GM's launching two biggie hybrids: the 2010 Chevy Volt and the jaw-droppingly snazzy 2012 Cadillac Converj.

With it's low-sloping roofline, the five-door hatchback Volt (around $40,000), is Chevy's first plug-in hybrid.

The electric motor will power the car up for up to 40 miles.

The gas engine is a generator that kicks in and recharges the batteries when they're near empty.

When the Cadillac Converj rolled out, it was like Posh Spice just made a surprise entrance.

The unveiling was breathtaking.

The Converj (probably gonna hit the $100K mark) kinda looks like a CTS coupe.

But this hybrid is the epitome of sleek styling.

If someone asked Bobby Trendy, he'd say the Converj was, "Luxurious!"

What's gay marriage got to do with it?

My first real auto show experience was a breakfast powwow titled "Adapting to the State of Business'" where GM's diversity spokesper- son Roderick D. Gillum, talked about the auto giant's commitment to social responsibility.

He mentioned civil rights crusader and GM board member Leon Sullivan, who played such an integral part in the success of the anti-apartheid movement — the man who helped GM realize that voluntarily withdrawing from doing business with South Africa was a bold and phenomenal change.

And when apartheid finally crumbled, South Africa's rebirth ended not just racial discrimination, it abolished all discrimination, which gave same-sex couples the right to legally marry and enjoy the same full, equal marriage rights as their hetero brothers and sisters.

Yep, as fucked up as South Africa once was, their new constitutional bill of rights is light-years ahead of ours.

At GM's diversity powwow, This Writer asked if Sullivan's legacy in South Africa is still alive in the U.S., and if GM supported same-sex marriage rights in America?

A mild gay panic-attack erupted, and someone from the back of the room quickly trotted out GM's Corporate Equality Index rating and the fact the company offers benefits for same- sex partners.

As the Asians and African-Americans in the room scratched their heads, the Q&A sharply shifted direction and GM's social responsibility to same-sex marriage was purposefully left unanswered.

After that, this reporter started feeling like the gay "Roger & Me" dude of the Detroit Auto Show.

The marriage question just made people more nervous.

And the last thing I wanted to do was mess with a company that's trying so hard to get it right.

Initially, I wanted GM to publicly say that they support full, equal same-sex marriage rights in the U.S. — just like the gays they helped in South Africa.

However, during this crisis-management situation, GM can't afford to do anything so publicly risky.

But after three days, I couldn't let it go — all that gay protest anger was bubbling inside.

Who needs GM's permission?

Then it dawned on me.

GM has already helped make gay marriage a reality — in South Africa.

And for three days, everywhere I looked those initials hovered over me: GM.

Because of South Africa, GM supports gay marriage whether they realize it or not.

I don't need them to say it.

We can just usurp their approval by using the initials of their company — let's always remind them that they first did it in South Africa, and now they're going to help us in the U.S.

This is the deal: Every time you see a GM car, just say, "That's a gay marriage car."

Go ahead — flaunt the GM logo; place the words "gay marriage" beneath it.

Make the letters GM as ubiquitous as rainbow flags, pink triangles and HRC bumper stickers.

And if some- one says "General Motors," correct them and say, "Oh, you mean 'gay marriage."

On this journey for full, equal rights, GM has met us halfway.

Now let's just take advantage all of their corporate branding, their beautiful advertising and lovely fuel-efficient cars, and mold it into our new Gay Marriage brand.

During this corporate crisis, GM has no choice.

To say they don't support full equal marriage rights or that they disapprove of gays using their brand as a Pride marriage badge ….

Well, that would be grounds for a corporate divorce.

MEET GM'S TRANS PIONEER One of General Motors most valuable employees is Steven Hanses, pictured, a senior product-assembly-document processor, who's been with the company since 1984. This native Detroiter is out as transgender at work, but Hanses (also known as Thora Lars) doesn't "cross" at the office. He says some co-workers have met Thora outside of work, "And they have been remarkably good to me." Hanses also works on the board of GM Plus, the company's LGBT affinity group. Last year, he brought GM sponsorship to the Southern Comfort Conference, the largest transgender gathering in the country, which happens in September in Atlanta. At the 2008 conference, the GM logo was on SCC billboards, programs and on the sleeves and shoulders in the fishing competitions. You go, Thora!

GM'S PLUG-IN HOTTIES: The 2010 Chevy Volt, left, and the recently revealed 2012 Cadillac Converj concept.

GAYER THAN PINK INK One of GM's brightest queer superstars is the vivacious British import Christopher Webb, manager of GM's color trends. Does Webb look familiar? He appeared on "Project Runway 5," when the designers recycled Saturn car parts into fashion. And Webb's been to Dallas. He's the hotshot whom Mary Kay Inc. tapped to design the new shade of pink for Mary Kay's 2006 Cadillac. Webb's a brilliant walking encyclopedia — an expert about tinting, pigments, vacuumized flakes and hand-sprayed substrates. His passion for color is mesmerizing. I'd describe something as "looks silvery." Webb would say "liquid mercury" "gunmetal" or "chrome." Remember his name. Webb's this close to being the next Tim Gunn.

Memorial Service Honors the Life and Legacy of James A. Washington, Pioneer in Journalism

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

The family and friends of the late James Washington, former Publisher of the Dallas Weekly, will gather to celebrate his life and enduring legacy in recognition of his significant impact on the journalism industry.

Dallas, TX - May 1, 2024 - A heartfelt memorial service will be held at Friendship-West Baptist Church in Dallas on Saturday, May 4, 2024, from 11:00 am to 1:00 pm, to honor the memory of James A. Washington, a respected figure in journalism and community advocacy.

Officiated by Reverend William White, the service welcomes the Dallas community and friends from around the globe to join in commemorating the remarkable life of James Washington.

Mr. Washington, former Publisher of the Dallas Weekly, touched the lives of many with his pioneering spirit and unwavering dedication to the field of journalism.

His passing on April 2, 2024, in Atlanta, GA, was deeply felt by all who knew him. Well-known as a trailblazer for the Black Press,

James’s legacy transcends borders, leaving an everlasting mark on the industry.

Throughout his career, Mr. Washington earned widespread acclaim and recognition, including the prestigious Legacy Award from the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) in 2019.

His commitment to championing Black businesses and fostering future leaders was evident in his stewardship of the Dallas Weekly, where he served as Publisher in 1985. Under his guidance, the publication became a beacon of journalistic excellence and a platform for aspiring writers and reporters.

Today, the Washington family continues James's legacy, with his son and daughter-in-law Patrick and Jess Washington leading the helm of the Dallas Weekly. Their dedication ensures that the vision lives on, inspiring generations of journalists to come.

For those wishing to pay tribute to James Washington, the memorial service offers an opportunity to share cherished memories and stories, reflecting on the joyous moments shared with a true legend.

In honor of James Washington's memory, the family kindly requests that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the James A. Washington Foundation, Inc.

Light refreshments will be served following the ceremony.

The formal repast will be exclusively for family members and close family friends.

About The Dallas Weekly

Since its establishment in 1954, the Dallas Weekly has served as a pivotal hub for the Black community in one of the nation's fastest-growing regions.

With an unbroken streak of publication spanning 70 years, the Dallas Weekly has solidified its position as the premier and most relied-upon voice within the African diaspora of North Texas. Today, the Dallas Weekly, affectionately known as the DW, stands as a dynamic multimedia entity, wielding influence not only on a national scale but also venturing into international discourse, particularly with the rising presence of Black immigrants. In addition to our award-winning traditional print edition, we have expanded our reach through a cutting-edge multimedia website, an engaging e-edition, a burgeoning community of social media followers, and the recent launch of our internet radio station. These diverse platforms underscore the Dallas Weekly's evolution into a distinctive niche brand operating on a multifaceted multimedia landscape. At the heart of our mission lies our commitment to delivering compelling content that resonates with our community and celebrates our rich culture. Memorial Service Location: Friendship-West Baptist Church 2020 W. Wheatland Rd Dallas, TX 75232

[fan-burns]

Robots 2

Chapter 11: Harvey’s POV (Later that same night)

One month 

One month of this torture and Ratchet has already lost his mind. More so than usual.

When he called me that night, that night when the EMP went off, he told me to get to the Chop Shop asap. What he did not tell me, was that he was going to set off the fucking mind control ray. The second I got there, he takes my phone and throws me in a box, A BOX, for two hours! I kept banging on the door, screaming and begging to know what he was doing, and he didn’t fucking say anything! By the time he let me out, it was already too late. He took over the fucking city. And now everyone is some brainwashed slave to him! 

I only joined this freak show to be with him so his army wouldn’t kill me, and to watch him fail! How was I supposed to know it would backfire on me?! 

When you hear someone say “Oh I wanna take over the city!” You laugh, realize he’s serious, get stuck with him, laugh the pain away and wait around to see what happens! When the inevitable happens, you both laugh it off, make amends, and at the end of the day the two of you scored yourself a new boyfriend! Done, paid, and laid in one night! 

This, none of this, WAS PART OF THE FUCKING PLAN!!!

He’s got some new police called The Guard, and he’s got this Door to door evangelism thing going on with The Congregation! They were supposed to be a task force to keep the peace, but they’ve become less professional and more religious! After that, he made sure there was an oil crisis so he could hoard all of it and give it to the elite. And now he’s got some “Loyalty Test”?! What the hell is going on with him?! What the hell did I get myself into now?! 

I took a deep breath and stopped reminding myself of how much of a fucking idiot I was and got up from my desk...or I should say Rodney’s desk. I felt terrible sitting here, where he used to work at for hours before finally calling it quits. I never wanted it to get this bad…I didn’t even think it would work! 

This was a mistake...I should’ve just swallowed my damn pride and said something to the cops, Hell I could’ve even gone to the girls! I bet they would’ve loved to beat Ratchet into a car battery! Especially Dial and Piper! I should’ve just left Ratchet and that so-called doctor when I had the chance. I should’ve just stayed in Detroit…at least then I’d be allowed to leave my own damned office! 

Ratchet figured out how I felt about this whole scheme when I was sleep talking again. He repurposed an old storage room, called it my room, and locked me in the building and posted guards outside every door so I wouldn’t escape. The guards deliver me about one to three cans a day, but it’s never enough to keep me going throughout the day. I usually end up falling asleep in the afternoon. I bet he’s keeping me weak on purpose…just what have I gotten myself into?! I’m so much smarter than this, how did I let myself be tricked?!

This is the last time I let a pretty face get the better of me! I don’t care if he has an entire army ready to kill me, I’ll kick his sorry aft! If I can get out of this alive, I’ll kill him for this! 

I looked out the windows behind the desks. Even in the dark, I could see that the city was a mess, in more ways than one. There’s scaffolding everywhere you look, billboards have Ratchet’s face plastered onto them, and worse yet the Transport Pods were flying everywhere you looked. More so than usual. I always hated those damned things. I would not want to be flying a train right now, if trains were even allowed to fly in the first place. I haven’t seen one in the sky for a while, so I’m guessing the stations were closed down when the walls came up. 

From what I can gather the city’s been cut off from everyone for weeks now. Unless you're a Diamond Drill Oil rig, no one on the outside can get in and no one here can get out. At least I’m not the only prisoner here…at least he's locked away from the rest of the world too. I can’t even imagine what would happen if this EMP thing were to get out there…I don’t think I want to know.

The door behind me suddenly creaked open, and one of the guards entered with my nightly provisions. I knew who it was before the light hit his face. 

He was a younger bot named Gyro. He was a slim bot that was similar to Ratchet’s model, probably made from the same manufacturer from the looks of things. He had these beautifully sharp shoulders that came at a point, and his face was sharp too. Literally. He looked like a knight in shining armor with a sphere instead of legs. It didn’t help that his “signature weapon” was a Lance like all the other guards…I don’t have the heart to tell him that though. The Lance in question was slung over his back, leaving his hands free to hold the silver tray with the fuel cans on top.

“Master Davidson?” He spoke softly, “Your provisions from Lord Ratchet for the night.”

I looked at him in confusion, “Lord Ratchet? What, does he think he’s an emperor now?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he entered the room, the giant red ribbon on his head dancing in the wind as he moved. It came to a halt as he placed the tray on my desk. “He has a lot of names now,” he explained. “Lord Ratchet, King Ratchet, Our Savior. The list is endless.”

I noticed that he failed to close the door. I briefly thought about making a run for it, but then I remembered the thousands of other guards hell bent on keeping me locked up in here. Instead, I wanted to test something. 

“That’s ridiculous.” I boldly proclaimed. “Ratchet is a robot, not Cog. He’s not seriously masquerading as a king, is he?”

He was going to answer, but hesitated. He wanted to answer, he truly did, but something had taken hold of him. An outer force took a hold of his throat and prevented him from answering truthfully. Eventually, it let him go, but only after he found the words he didn’t want to say. 

“I-I guess he is? I’m not sure what to think of it myself…but Ratchet is the one who saved us all, so it’s only fitting that we praise him for what he’s done for us. I’d actually never thought about it much, I’m not really supposed to.”

“You’re not supposed to think?! You’re not a machine, Gyro, you’re allowed to have opinions! Who said you couldn’t think?!”

“With all due respect,” he objected. “I’m just a Guard Bot. I’m meant to guard, not to strategize, it’s my designation and purpose in life. That’s how things were before Bigweld showed up, remember?”

“But who told you that?!” I demanded. 

“Lord Ratchet did!” He responded matter of factly, “He’s told us everything that we forgot about! Hasn’t he told you your purpose yet? Is that why you’re in here?”

I didn’t know what to say…I just stared at him. I could feel a wave of heat and anger rising within my chest. Purpose? Designations? What the hell was Ratchet thinking?! What else did he say to them?! 

I wanted to tell him everything right then and there. The EMP, The Doctor, Ratchet, and whatever else I was hiding…but I couldn’t. If he was crazy enough to do this and everything prior, then who knows what he’d do to me if I said anything. That, and his whole army would be after me. But if I don’t say anything, then everyone will be stuck thinking like this, thinking that they��re good for only one thing. They’d be stuck doing the same thing forever, over and over again even if they don’t want to. I’d be betraying myself for betraying Rodney by not betraying Ratchet. Then again, I already did betray him and myself and… Oh y’know what? Screw it. I’m not going to let two pathetic little shits scare me into obeying. If I die it’s going to be on my terms. 

“Gyro...there’s something you need to-”

Suddenly, a third voice broke the conversation. “Evening, Harvey.”

“OH SHI-I mean...Hello there, Ratchet! How’s it going?” I addressed him sheepishly. Standing in the doorframe was Ratchet himself, right when I was going to do something smart for once. Damn it.

Gyro gave a salute to him. “Lord Ratchet! Sir! I was just providing Master Davidson his nightly provisions…and we were just chatting about how much of an honor it is to serve under your command.”

Oh thank Cog Gyro is a quick thinker. Bless you, Gyro. Bless you. Marry me.

Ratchet looked suspicious at first, but upon seeing the tray on the desk, he was satisfied with the answer. “Well, I’m glad to see you interacting with Harvey while not disobeying orders! He needs the extra company, but next time, do take care to shut the door.”

Gyro smiled, but I could tell he had something else on his mind. “As you wish, sir.” 

“That’s a good guard.” Ratchet spoke to him. “Oh, and Gyro? Could you leave the two of us for the night? I need to discuss something important to talk to him. I’ll throw in a bonus for your service to Harvey.”

Oh no.

Gyro placed his hand over his chest, and took a bow. As he did so, the feather in his helmet fell onto his shoulders.“As you command, sir.” He then turned to me, “I’ll be seeing you again, Master Harvey.”

I faked a smile at him, “You too...have a good night, Gyro.”

The feather danced freely as he left the room, and gently closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone.

“Harvey,” Ratchet began bluntly. “I wanted to talk to you about the city.”

Did he know I was having doubts about the plan?...I mean, he already did, but now is he going to finally do something about it? 

I knew I had to play it cool, so I played along, “W-What was on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking about doing something special for the city again, like those free upgrades I did a month ago. Something like the Bigweld ball, but about me! I know how creative you can be, so I was wondering if you could come up with something.”

Oh thank Cog I thought I was dead for sure! I can actually do something here. Maybe I can use this to my advantage…maybe this could be my ticket to fixing everything! Storm the castle, kill the king!

“Oh, well we can do a disco! Or a gala! Wait, no no! Even better…We can do a masquerade!”

He looked puzzled by what I said, so I guess he’s never heard of a masquerade before. If she weren’t already dead, I would’ve had a lovely chat with his mother about this severe lack of taste.

“A masquerade ball!” I exclaimed. “You know? It’s where you wear your richest and finest upgrades alongside an elegant mask! We did them all the time at the Diamond Drill Hall!”

“Why wear a mask?” He questioned.

I was close to blowing a circuit, but was able to keep myself in check. “That’s part of the fun! The whole event is a sort of game, where you have to find out who’s who. We can throw some other activities too, but that’s the main purpose of the event. It’s for fun! It’s for letting loose any stress or worries, and it’ll be nice to get out of the “king persona” for a bit!”

I’m glad I said that last bit, because now his face seemed to soften. “King persona? Whatever do you mean?”

I threw my hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean anything bad! I just thought that, maybe…you’d like to tone things down a bit?”

I stepped towards him and fixed his tie as I said this. It’s basic 101 in seduction, play with your lover’s frames and they’ll get the hint. Any small accessories they have are a goldmine of things to mess with, and you should always fiddle with them if you can. 

At least…that’s what’s supposed to happen. Instead he brushed me aside and stared out the window in his signature overdramatic brooding pose. Either I’m a little rusty, or he’s dumber than he looks…It’s definitely the latter, I’m never rusty.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harvey,” he said, “My image has to represent what I expect from them. I expect obedience and professionalism from them, so I must do the same.”

“You’re failing at that obedience thing.” I remarked quickly. “And that professionalism.”

He quickly turned to face me, “What makes you say that? Because I have no one to take orders from?! I am in charge, so I obey myself! I obey my own laws and decrees! I-”

“You need to listen to yourself!” I interrupted. “Decrees? Commands? This isn’t the medieval times, this is a city in the 20th century! A city that’s being ruled by an iron fist no less!”

He looked down at his hands awkwardly.

“Metaphorically! My point is that you’re crossing a line! Many lines in fact!”

I took a breath and continued, “Let’s just…tone it down a bit. You’re starting to freak everyone out.”

He tightened his grip on the Conduit, and the staff began to shake. I backed away from him and braced myself just in case he decided to take a swing at me.

“I suppose you do have a point,” he admitted as he glared at me, “…but what about you? How can I trust that you won’t run away when I let you plan this thing?”

And just like that, we’re back to that night when he heard me in my sleep. We’re back to me arguing my case, only for him to find me guilty and sentencing me to life in prison.

“Why would I run?” I argued once again. “Where would I run to? The whole city is locked up, it doesn’t make sense for me to leave if I can’t go anywhere! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you the whole time, you don’t have to keep me in here!”

I considered getting on my knees, but that would look too desperate and he might suspect something. I have to play it cool. Instead, I just clasped my hands together. I approached him again as I spoke. “Please, sir. I know what I said, but I never wanted to say it like that. I wanted to have a proper conversation about it, like we are now! I’m trying to keep you from going over your head! Remember that promise? That you’d let me stop you if it goes too far? That’s what I’m doing now, I’m keeping that promise!”

I placed my hand on his shoulder, with the other one gently caressing the side fin on his head. “Please…let’s try to tone it down a bit.”

He placed his hand over his shoulder, covering mine.  “Harvey…I think you’re right.”

“…What?”

He brushed my hands off, “You’re right…maybe this is getting to be a bit much. Maybe I do need a break for a bit.”

Ok, great! He’s not completely out of his mind yet! I can use this!..I don’t know how yet, but I can use this against him!

He kept his gaze fixed on me, “How about a deal then? I’ll let you go so you can help with this masquerade of yours. If it’s a hit, We’ll make it an annual thing. If not, I’ll still let you go and we’ll just have to think of something else. Deal?”

I didn’t even hesitate. I reached my hand out to shake his, “Deal. Where should we start?”

He grinned at that as he twirled his staff around like a batton. Pretty impressive considering how thick it was. “Let’s start with our outfits…I’m thinking of keeping it simple. I want everyone to at least know who I am!”

I rolled my eyes with a pretend smile. Now that I know he’s somewhat sane, I can use him against him. That, and to knock him down a few thousand pegs. Maybe knock his head off while I’m at it.

“Fair enough…what were you thinking of?”

“Just a crown and cape. Nothing too flashy. I still need to look the part of a king!”

Or maybe I spoke too soon. At least I’m making some progress. I can still use whatever I learn against him when he’s weak and not in the king persona. I can try to find Rodney if he hasn’t already been brainwashed and pass what I find to him or even Bigweld. Maybe I can snap some sense into Damion and Axyl when I run into them. I’ve got to do something to fix this!

At least I hope I can fix this…otherwise I don’t know how anyone could beat him at this rate.

[lotusthewriter]

(I hope someone gets my) message in a bottle

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Rating: G

Relationships: Connor & Hank

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Sumo

Summary: Androids don’t have depression. Or so Connor thought.

Word count: 1.522

AO3 / Fanfiction

TRIGGER WARNING - depression, mental breakdown

Do not ship Hank and Connor.

--

Connor knows what a shutdown feels. When the battery is low, it’s like the android-equivalent of exhaustion. His energy is low, and he simply requires time to recharge.

But lately, it’s like he’s been in a shutdown for days. Weeks, even.

And for the life of him, he can’t recharge.

It wasn’t bad at first, Connor would only feel a smidge… annoyed, yet it gradually got worse. Everything began feeling… overwhelming, and thousands of error screens would pop up in his field of vision, giving him headaches.

The only thing that would silence said headaches would be Hank’s headphones, which he borrowed and hasn’t returned since. Connor would lie in bed all day, listening to loud music to mute all his strange symptoms.

Sometimes Hank comes in his room just to check on him – usually to give him some thirium, so his systems are not destabilized. Sumo also tries to get him out to play, but Connor simply… has no energy to stand up and go in the yard, or even walk with him. They are his favorite activities, yet he simply can’t bring himself to do them.

Markus has sent him messages, too, wondering how he’s doing. Connor merely replies with the usual “I’m fine”. Markus always tells him he’s welcome at New Jericho, if he wants to talk to him, or anyone else. Connor never shows up.

The android knows time is passing by, and he’s not doing anything about it. Days feel slow, but he also feels like he’s losing precious time. Connor is free to do anything he wants, to spend time with the people that care about him, to live without any missions to follow… and yet, it all feels as meaningless as when he was just a machine.

Connor knows he’s using everyone’s patience. He knows he’s disappointing them. He hasn’t done anything meaningful. He’s usually the one taking care of everything at home, not Hank. The roles have been reversed; Hank has been nothing but patient with him, when he would’ve probably lashed out at Connor to stop sulking in his room all day.

Hank’s expression every time he comes in to see him…

It always… hurts.

It really hurts.

Not like a stab or a gunshot. It hurts in a way Connor can’t possibly describe.

It’s been hurting for a long time.

Connor can’t take it much longer.

The headphones are almost out of battery. He usually recharges it himself with his body… but this time, he doesn’t. Hank hasn’t shown up today, and Connor can’t help the growing curiosity.

Standing up is… a struggle. His legs feel numb, like he might fall with any step. It’s like low pressure, where his vision darkens, and his head feels heavy. Connor leaves the headphones by his bed, not concerned about recharging them for now.

He never closes the door in case Sumo wants to come in (and he knows the dog would probably ruin the door with his big, strong paws), so all he does is pull it slowly. Connor passes by Hank’s empty room and the bathroom, which has him curious by his appearance. When he goes in the latter… he’s certainly taken aback by what he sees.

His once well-stylized hair is a mess of curls, and if that’s even possible, his eyes are tired and burdened by dark bags. Connor has been wearing the same black hoodie for days. He’s aware he doesn’t smell like human beings do, but he certainly feels… gross, when he realizes. Connor almost wants to take a shower, even if he doesn’t have to.

Not right now, though.

He comes out of the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious about his looks now, wondering if Hank might judge him for it. Connor hears… cartoonish noises coming from the living room. Strange, Hank isn’t someone who watches cartoons often. He’s seen animated movies with Connor before, but it’s not quite usual, either.

When he arrives, he’s greeted by a tired Sumo, who wiggles his tail happily. Connor gently pets him, a small smile coming out of his tiredness.

“Oh, hey,” Hank speaks from the couch, slightly surprised.

Connor’s smile fades. “Hi.”

Hank doesn’t seem disgusted with him. If anything, he looks… relieved. Probably because Connor finally came out of his room.

“Can I join you?” The RK800 asks.

“Sure.”

Connor sits on the couch, hesitant to come closer. Sumo lies near his feet.

“What are you watching?”

“Just something I used to watch all the time as a kid.”

Connor quickly recognizes the cartoon featuring an anthropomorphic dog and… a rabbit thing that combat crimes together. The cartoon is based on the comics, which also originated a few videogames years later.

He tries to pay attention to the show, but all this time, Connor only has questions in his head. Hank doesn’t mind his presence at all, but the android can’t help but think otherwise.

“… Hank?”

“Hm?”

Connor holds a piece of the abandoned blanket on the couch.

“I’m sorry.”

Even while not looking, he can tell Hank is frowning.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For my behavior.”

He senses Hank scooting closer. “No, Connor… you don’t have to apologize.”

“But I’ve been distant, Hank. I haven’t been helpful for weeks.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“It’s not fair to you. I know you struggle looking after yourself, and yet I’ve barely helped you take care of things.”

“Connor, I don’t mind.”

“Why?” He grows angry. “Why don’t you mind?”

“Because it’s not your responsibility to take care of me.”

“I don’t understand, why aren’t you—” Connor’s head starts aching again. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“Connor… I know you’re struggling, too.”

The android can’t help softening at Hank’s… pained tone.

“But I don’t know why I’m struggling,” Connor says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

There’s a pause in between, before Hank says something he’s not expecting.

“… I think you’re depressed, Connor.”

Depressed?

The numbness, the exhaustion, the isolation…

“I’m… I’m not supposed to be depressed, Hank,” Connor argues.

“Why not?”

“Because… I’m…” He almost wants to say, I’m an android, I’m a machine. But he’s not merely a machine anymore, is he?

“Listen, Connor,” Hank sighs, “sometimes it comes out of nowhere. But also… you have no missions to accomplish anymore. You have nothing and no one to obey. Maybe you’re just feeling out of place.”

Connor listens attentively, and in the meantime tries to run a diagnosis. Of course, his systems don’t detect any issues. This isn’t something calculated. Depression is never calculated. It’s… It’s an illness, a disease that gets the better of you.

Hank is now close enough to put a hand on the back of his head, caressing his brown hair. Connor almost shivers at the contact, still not quite used to physical touch, even months after his deviancy.

His eyes… sting.

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” Connor admits. “It’s so… tiring.”

“I know.”

When Sumo whines, Connor knows what his eyes are doing.

They’re leaking.

Connor has never cried. This is his first time.

And it hurts.

When Hank catches him, Connor is sobbing. It’s suffocating. His stress levels are high, his system temperature rises, and his head aches the most.

The cartoon they were watching is abandoned, serving as background noise. Hank is trying to soothe his trembling, hiccupping back. Sumo’s head is lying on Connor’s lap in support.

Eventually, his stress decreases.

Regardless, Connor doesn’t want to let go. But he knows he must, at some point.

He does, once his sobbing ceases. He’s aware he must look more terrible now.

But Hank is smiling at him. Smiling just like in that cold, snowy morning, right before he hugged him for the first time. Hank has changed so much since then.

Connor sniffs, drying his face with his sleeve.

“I… I think I’m going to take a shower.”

Hank doesn’t judge him.

“Okay, you can take a towel in my room. You know where they are?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Connor nods and is about to stand up from the couch when something takes his arm gently.

“… You call me if you need any help, okay?” Hank whispers.

The android smiles for the first time in a while. “Okay, Hank.”

With this, Connor heads to the bathroom after taking a towel. He leaves his clothes by the toilet, to take them to the washing machine afterwards.

When he turns on the water, he feels… good. The cold waterdrops soothe his hot head, and they course all over his body.

Connor feels something different for the first time in weeks.

He probably takes longer than it needs, though. Hank doesn’t yell at him to get out of the bathroom, at least.

Connor comes out feeling new. Not entirely, but… new.

Admittedly, he goes back to his room, but he doesn’t listen to music again. He leaves the headphones aside, by the bedside table. Connor lies in bed thoughtfully.

He takes a while to do it, but eventually, he opens the last messages sent to him and writes something.

Hey, Markus.

I think I need help.

He gets an answer quickly.

[harleyhua-archive]

it’s elle again! took me longer than I thought it would, but i’m here with the bio of my second son, harley. he’s my newest oc; i’ve had him for about a year, but i didn’t get to rp much during that time. i’m fluent in asl, so harley has a special place in my heart. usually my gifs that include him signing won’t actually match the signs up to what he’s saying, but this one does. he’s signing ‘hello, my name is....’ so it felt like an appropriate intro post.

[ chella man, genderqueer trans man, 21, he/him ] did you see who just walked in? it was that JUNIOR, the ╳ + HARDWORKING AND  - DISORGANIZED ╳  one? you know, the one who lives at SONTHENA HALL, HARLEY HUA! i heard they are majoring in ART and they can’t wait to get out of here to BECOME AN ILLUSTRATOR.  crap! stop staring, here they come!

name. harley hua hometown. detroit, mi major. art (illustration) birthday. may 27th, 2000 gender. trans man, genderqueer orientation. pansexual religion. jewish languages. english, asl, some cantonese and french hobbies. cheerleading, drawing, comic books

[ BIO ] [ tw. gender dysphoria ]

harley was born hard of hearing, although it wasn’t discovered until he was six. his audiologist discouraged his parents from teaching him sign, saying he would stop talking and stunt his language skills, so he grew up using his hearing aid and filling in the gaps with lipreading.

his yearly hearing tests showed he was gradually going deaf. he kept getting stronger hearing aids and being able to catch less and less of what was happening around him. the expectation was that he would get better at reading lips, but that only got him so far (only 30% of the English language is visible on the mouth!)

he had been a social kid, but he slowly withdrew into art. there, he could create anything he wanted. he often drew superheroes, or just ‘regular’ civilians (usually men). for a few years, harley took a sketch book and at least three graphic pencils everywhere he went.

in middle school, harley was eligible for a cochlear implant. his parents urged for him to get implanted, but decided to let him make the decision himself. he found a way to compromise with them; he agreed to get the surgery, but in exchange his parents agreed to pay for him and his brother to take ASL classes.

once activated, the implant was an immediate change. the world sounded different through it than what harley remembered, but he could understand his teachers and classmates better than he had in a very long time. he was able to join in again, and went from the kid scribbling in a notebook alone to being very outgoing. once he was able to use an ASL interpreter in classes, his confidence and grades shot up.

in high school, harley was very popular. it didn’t take long for his friends to give him a makeover, convincing him to throw out his baggy tshirts and most of his jeans, in favor of more feminine pieces. mini skirts, heels and crop tops (at least, when he could sneak them past his parents). he grew out his short hair to better hide his cochlear implants, smiling and nodding when he couldn’t keep up in conversations instead of drawing attention to his deafness. for the first time in his life he fit in, and he didn’t want to remind people that he was different.

(tw: dysphoria) but something was different, and it wasn’t his cochlear implants or the fact he was one of the only asian kids at his predominately white high school. something about the way he looked bothered him. he would often stare at himself in the mirror, and he knew the girl staring back at him in the mirror was pretty, but he couldn’t connect with ‘her’. she felt like a completely different person, almost like a mask he wore despite not understanding why he ‘needed’ to wear it or why he felt so numb to his own body.

the huas weren’t really hurting for money, but sending two teenagers to college only a year apart would be tough for any family. harley didn’t want to put that kind of stress on his parents, so he focused on cheerleading scholarships. he toured suffolk because it has one of the best cheer programs in the country. it was a dream school, but he doubted they’d want him on their team, let alone offer him enough money that he could afford to attend. yet that’s exactly what happened, so harley accepted and moved to boston.

during his freshman year of college, he realized nobody cared what he looked like in college. many of his classmates showed up to lectures in their pajamas. he started experimenting with his clothes, trading out the feminine pieces he’d been wearing for the past four years and wearing the things he wanted to; androgynous and masculine pieces. at first he wasn’t so sure why it made him happy, he just knew it did.

(tw: dysphoria) harley had never paid much attention to the trans community. he certainly never thought of himself as trans or genderqueer. sure, he often felt like an alien stuck in someone else’s body, but he assumed that was normal - something every girl secretly felt. after joining his college’s gsa and meeting trans people for the first time and hearing their stories, it began to click. harley came out towards the end of his freshman year of college, and started transitioning a few months later. his parents didn’t try to stop him, but it’s clear they don’t understand. a small part of harley is bothered by this, but he doesn’t let it get him down. it took a long time for them to accept he was deaf, too, but they eventually came around. they’re just slow to accept changes. between that and their refusal to learn ASL, harley isn’t on the best of terms with them, but he doesn’t stop to let this get to him. 

overall harley is a very happy kid. he’s at his dream college, living his best life and preparing for the future he’s wanted since he was a kid

[ HEADCANONS ]

not wanting to take much money from his parents, harley works as a bartender three days a week at a popular bar near campus

if he’s not at work or in class, he’s either practicing cheer, working out at the student rec center, or at one of two coffee shops (one being the starbucks in his building, the other being an independent mom-and-pop cafe not far from campus)

he’s basically a jock villager from animal crossing. as stated before, he’s really into cheerleading. since getting his top surgery last summer he’s fallen in love with swimming. he also lifts weights and goes running a couple times a week with nadia.

harley is very busy, and his schedule is constantly fluctuating between working late nights and practices at any time of day. he’s pretty much always sleep deprived, and lives on an insane amount of coffee (he doesn’t like energy drinks).

harley’s preferred method of communication is asl. he uses interpreters in class and is involved with the deaf community in boston. but since most people on the squad only know a limited amount of sign, and other people he knows on campus don’t know the language at all, he often relies on the combination of his cochlear implant and lipreading to communicate. if he can’t hear with his cochlear implant (dead battery, too much background noise, etc) he won’t be able to understand enough by reading lips. but on the other hand, if he’s using his implant to communicate, watching the other person’s mouth helps him fill in the blanks.

[ WANTED CONNECTION ]

teammate // they do cheer together, so they spend a lot of time with each other

asl friends // harley prefers asl, so it would be great for him to have people to sign with!

regular customer // your character hangs out at the bar harley works at. conversely, they’re a bariste at one of the cafes harley is at multiple times a day

workout buddies // they lift weights together

rainbow family // in the queer community, they say you make your own family. harley doesn’t have a great relationship with his parents, and his brother is attending school on the west coast, so harley could use some lgbtq+ family in boston

comic book nerds // harley loves comic books. they were a major escape for him growing up and how he got into drawing in the first place. so maybe your character is also really into comic books, or they just share a passion for the mcu movies

[ FINAL NOTES ]

That’s all I got, but I’m open to almost anything with him. Looking forward to getting to explore him more here!

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Maybe a fic where Amanda meddles with his system and he can charge himself to 30% but not beyond that so he’s super tired, sleepy and lethargic but he tries really hard to hide it from Hank, but fails to when he basically passes out after having to run a program during a case that sucks up his battery power.

See, this is what I’m talking about! Set with pre-deviant Connor where he’s starting to become “unstable”

Connor doesn’t understand; he doesn’t understand because he spent the entire night charging to ensure he’s operating at one-hundred percent, yet he’s only an hour into a new case with Hank, and his prosthetic limbs are moving too slow, his optical lenses are struggling to focus, failing to scan for new evidence. He runs a quick overall system scan, frowning. 

System Operating at 30%.

“Connor!” 

Connor blinks slowly, waiting briefly for his program functions to operate toward a response, and he turns his head toward Hank’s rather demanding voice. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“The fuck are you doing just standing there like a damn statue? Let’s get a move on!”

Wordlessly, he follows after Hank into a back room in The Eden Club, glancing at the blue splatters of thirium coating the raised pedestal around a tall pole. There was another incident with a deviant; he’s not sure what happened, but the reports suggest a rogue droid who attacked four customers before running off into the night. Based on the thirium scattered about the entertainment lounge, the droid left with substantial injuries.

The back rooms are in similar states. Blue is painted across the walls and atop bed sheets. Connor taps his finger to a splatter on a left wall and brings it to his tongue, ignoring the disgusted groan from Hank as he works to scan the thirium. It’s bitter, and a wince pulls at his face as he begins a scan. He’s halfway through when his work comes to a stop.

System Operating at 20%.

He blinks away the red warning with a quiet sigh. He can feel the low charge like a human would feel operating on no sleep. Lethargic, his program supplies. He’s not moving fast enough, not processing evidence quick enough. He can’t. His software system is going to reboot into power save mode soon, and it will be a miracle if he can even remain upright when that happens. He should excuse himself from the scene to find a charging base, but his intuitive program keeps supplying determination toward his frontal lobe panel, repeatedly assuring him that they are close to a breakthrough, so he can’t part with the crime scene.

“Goddammit, Connor!”

The hand that hits his cheek stings, and without meaning to, Connor winces and pulls a blurry yet sharp gaze to Hank.

“Shit, Connor, did that hurt?”

Hank’s worried now. Connor doesn’t need to scan the lieutenant to know, not when Hank’s frowning at him with deep, worried lines etched across his forehead.

System Operating at 15%.

“No, Lieutenant,” Connor says, lying easily. He can feel his instability jolt like a spark jerking up his spine, but he ignores it.

“Well your face says otherwise,” Hank mutters, and for a moment, Connor wants to shrink away from Hank’s stern gaze, but he keeps his shoulders squared and his chin upright.

“There’s no need for concern, Lieutenant.”

“I’m not concerned,” Hank spits out. “But I don’t want a fucked up droid at a crime scene.”

Connor doesn’t reply, not finding it necessary, but when he moves to follow beside Hank toward a different room, he staggers. His programs short-circuit for a moment, and he latches a shaking hand to Hank’s shoulder.

System Operating at 10%. Entering Power Save Mode.

“Connor, what the hell is going on with you?” Hank’s hand finds Connor’s waist, and the frustration from before has been replaced with a genuine sense of concern that Connor just barely picks up on.

“I just need...” Connor slowly cranes his neck, looking over his shoulder. He’s... His programs aren’t moving fast enough. His thirium is moving too slowly, making his ocular sensors fail to receive images clearly. He’s dizzy. “To charge.”

His auditory sensors aren’t working properly as his systems move to power save mode. Hank’s shouting for a charger base sounds far too distant despite Hank remaining by his side, but soon enough, he can feel his systems rebooting as power pulses through his software.

System Charging.

“You know you could have just said you were low on juice,” Hank bites out. The only charger station is outdoors, and he crosses his arms against the snow beating down on the two.

Connor blinks at him slowly. “I charged last night. There might be a circuit issue with my charger station.” He frowns when Hank shudders and hisses against a particularly sharp gust of wind. “Go back inside, Lieutenant. I’ll be in shortly.”

Stubborn as he is, Hank complies, leaving Connor to charge alone, and Connor waits patiently, but when he hits 30% and receives a notification that his charging is complete, a sharp frown takes over his features, and he wills a meeting with Amanda, something he doesn’t do often.

He closes his eyes, and to his surprise, Amanda welcomes him in. Like in Detroit, it’s snowing in her garden, yet it feels 10 degrees colder. He crosses his arms and starts toward her.

“Connor.” Her voice is calm, but Connor’s LED still blinks a bright yellow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I can’t charge above 30%,” Connor answers honestly. He sucks in a shaking breath, prepared to explain how he cannot effectively do his job if he can’t operate at full capacity, but Amanda smiles, cutting his thoughts off like a snip of a wire.

“I know.”

He’s had a brief suspicion that this was the product Amanda’s doing, but hearing her easy admission sends heat to his LED until it’s glowing red. His instability jerks again, but he keeps his expression calm despite the unfamiliar heat of anger warming his thirium, an odd contrast to the icy wind that’s threatening to freeze it.

“Why?” He asks, willing his voice to remain steady.

“You’re becoming unstable.”

“I’m not,” Connor presses. “If my scans show otherwise, it can easily be pegged on frustration toward not being able to perform my duties effectively.”

“Frustration,” Amanda says softly. “That’s not a part of your program.”

She shoves him out. Connor blinks slowly, taking in the whipping snow around him. He moves away from the base quickly, and his legs give out. He falls to the snow, hands curled into fists. “Dammit.” He’s mad; he can’t control his instability.

He gets slowly to his feet. His ocular sensors still can’t focus on much, but he pushes through the hazy vision and enters the club. The sooner, he thinks, that he can solve this case and find the deviant, the sooner Amanda’s trust in him will return and he can begin to operate at 100% again.

“Connor,” Hank waves him over, holding a ripped shirt that’s coated in thirium. “Can you scan this? We think the deviant’s working with a rogue group, and this shirt could potentially be a marked shirt of their new group.”

Nodding, Connor pushes all of his scanning operations toward the shirt, eyes flicking to one tear, then to a splatter of thirium, then to another tear, over and over until the shirt begins to blur against his ocular sensors. He can feel his systems dragging, struggling to keep up with his determination, thirium moving incredibly slow, unable to support his system functions quickly, but he pushes through until his ocular sensors cut to black. 

He’s only out for seconds, the low hum of Amanda’s voice fading from his ears as his present surroundings come back. He’s leaning against Hank, his forehead pressed to Hank’s shoulder, and Hank has a strong arm wrapped around his back, and he’s shouting. A lot of people are shouting, but Connor is struggling to pinpoint voices. 

System Operating at 12%. 

“--swear to God, Hank! Get that faulty fucking droid out of here!” 

“Calm the fuck down, Reed! Unless you want to go around licking all of this blue blood?” 

“That’s fucking disgusting!” 

Connor lifts his head, he can feel every single movement like a rusted gear in need of attention, and his ocular sensors hone in on the ripped shirt he dropped. His charge is too low for a full scan, but he manages a quick one, leaning heavily against Hank as his charge depletes more and more. 

His scans come up with a small store that’s been on Detroit Police Department’s radar more than once. It’s most likely the store the shirt came from-- it’s a lead, just what they were looking for, and he mumbles the store name before dropping his forehead back to Hank’s shoulder. 

Hank bellows out orders before guiding Connor back out to the charging station.

“Connor, you have five seconds to tell me what the hell is really going on before I ship your ass off in a box.” 

System Charging.

“I’m being punished,” Connor answers quietly. His vocal programming is reflecting his low charge, his tone is deeper than normal, carrying little energy with each word. “CyberLife thinks I’m growing unstable.” 

“Well, are you?” 

Current System Charge is 28%.

Connor meets Hank’s eyes, and they share a wordless conversation, one that bleeds in muted desperation. Connor doesn’t want to lie to Hank, but if he admits his hesitation out loud, he might as well send himself back to CyberLife for further inspection. His instability has been up and down for weeks now, but he’s always reasoned that the jolts are because of the amount of deviant cases they’ve covered. It’s... hard sometimes to handle a case with a deviant who is so insistent that they are human. 

When Hank finally breaks the gaze with a huff, Connor breathes out a quiet sigh. 

“It doesn’t matter because you probably just solved this case.” 

Relief, a program function he was created with for unclear purposes, floods Connor’s systems, and he nods, eyes following as Hank turns away to watch the police cars whip down the street. 

Current System Charge is 31%.

[icariahq]

Thanks for applying Lauren! We look forward to seeing Noreen around the island. Make sure to send your blog in within the next 24 hours or reach out to us if you need an extension. Aimee Carrero is now taken.

BASE APP

( AIMEE CARRERO, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen NOREEN GOMEZ around icaria? they are the 26 year old child of ZEUS. they remind me of the sound of the human version of coffee, lightning on a misty night, multilingual insults, and late night talks around the neighborhood. They’ve been on the island for 8 YEARS.

OOC INFO:

NAME / PRONOUNS | AGE | TIMEZONE

It me. Lucifer  / She/Her  | 30 | EST

ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE

To damn long

IC INFO:

Please know that all of this is to help you get to know your own character better – and to allow for easier plotting with other members!

WHO ARE YOU BRINGING TO THE ISLE?

FACECLAIM: Aimee Carrero NAME: Noreen Gomez AGE: 26 BIRTHDAY: January 31, 1994 OCCUPATION: N/A for the moment  HOMETOWN: Detroit, MI PETS: N/A… for now POWERS:

She can see and sense the electricity around her, from there she pull the electricity and turn it into small blasts of electricity she can throw at people.

BIOGRAPHY: TWs for:  Prostitution, death, drugs, addiction, child neglect

Marita Gomez was not a woman you could call kind, but damn was she beautiful. She had floated through life using her looks to get what she wanted, and while that got her money and attention it didn’t always serve to put her in a good place or have her care about anyone beyond herself.  By the time she was 18, she was one of the favorites who worked the street and pulled in money for her pimp. Sometimes she’d sleep with the clients, sometimes she’d lead them to those who could get them other black market items, she never really cared so long as she got her next hit and got her money in hand. But she was always the go-to if the cops showed up, petite little Marita could switch between looking as innocent as a lamb and as mouth-watering delicious as a stake to a starving man. 

It was that beauty that caught the King of the Gods’ attention. He swooped down from the heavens and took on the form of a human. Marita didn’t care, didn’t want to even know his name, he was just another client. Another fuck to get the drugs she wanted and the money she desired for the clothes she needed. The two had one night of passionate lovemaking before Zeus fucked off back to Mount Olympus and left a now, unknowingly pregnant, Marita. It only took two months before she was showing, three before her clientele started to change to those with a fetish for pregnancy; and by the time she had had her baby? She had grown a following of – eclectic men. 

Noreen Gomez was born addicted to coke and in a situation, no kid should be in. Until she was 5 Noreen barely had any contact with those outside of the “family” her mother had cultivated. People flitted in and out of their house, watching her grow while her mom was at work. Sometimes it was the teens from down the street who watched the baby for a small hit when Martia returned home, sometimes it was for a bit – handsier of an exchange. Other times it would be the other sex workers who would occasionally – coo and aww over the baby and other times – forget she existed until she cried for milk or a change. At 5 – well everyone assumed the child was old enough to take care of herself, they stopped caring as much. She was left home alone to make herself food, bathe and change herself and to try and keep the house – somewhat clean. That was something her mom started to expect of her when Noreen was able to walk and remember things. 

As a young kid, she worried constantly about where her next meal would come from if they had water, power, all the things kids should never think about. So when the power was shut off one day and she was home alone – it was dark out and she was terrified. Little six-year-old Noreen let out a cry that – well, she wouldn’t know for years why it worked, but the power was suddenly back on, the lights and tv flicked back to life. She never questioned it, and neither did her mother when the electricity bill stopped coming but the power… somehow stayed on. 

She started school not long after and while the teachers raised eyebrows and tossed worried looks her way – no one called CPS, no one ever came to check on the obviously neglected Noreen. She learned very early on that adults were trash, and the only people who really cared were the other kids. That was the one time she got any sort of good in her life – when she slept over at a friend’s house and could relax, and just … be a kid. 

By 10 Noreen understood how the streets operated, she understood how to get and take without getting in trouble, without getting adults to look at you twice. She understood how to run a con, how to get a bit of extra cash. Her protection? Well, it seemed like she was always a bit electrified. A bit energetic and too quick. You touched her when she wasn’t expecting it? You’d get a nice little shock. No one really questioned it – static electricity but stronger. So she generally felt safe. Most of the time. 

She had just scammed a man out of twice the amount of money the product she had was worth when she ran face-first into Jarvis. He had been shocked, both literally and physically, by a 10-year-old who seemed to have a giant wad of cash she was trying to stuff into her non-existent bra. There was a quick exchange of words and meeting of his “kids”  before she understood that she could make more and not have to worry so much if she worked for him. It’s not like her mother would care – it’s not like her mother took care of her. So she agreed and was welcomed into the fold. 

By 12 more children had joined Jarvis’ little crusade and Noreen had become known as Spark or Spitfire – mostly because of the static shocks or the words that came out of her mouth. A mixture of Spanish and English and 90% of it cursing your existence. But despite that she became a bit of a mother hen to the other kids, looking out for them and making sure they had food or a place to sleep. It’s not like her own mother cared; So Noreen took in the kids, and they slept on the pull-out couch. They were always out by 9 am (when her mother woke up and usually would start bitching), but came back each night to sleep or just have someone to talk to. 

A school friend, one not involved in the life she lived on the streets, had invited her over for a slumber party… turns out it was a surprise birthday party. But the sudden kids jumping out and yelling surprise scared Noreen enough that every light in the house arced and blew out. Before they could finish the word the city block had lost power and it was spreading. Noreen knew it was her; she could feel the sparks arcing from her fingertips to the light switch mere inches from her hand, she could see the electricity in the air. No one else seemed to notice – most just screamed because the power went out but it quickly turned into laughter and lightning candles as they got cake and settled down.  But Noreen… Noreen couldn’t stop looking around, it wasn’t just that some friends had decided to do something so nice for her, but the fact that she could register where all the electricity in the room was by sight and sound. She could hear it humming in the walls, she could see it connecting switches and lights.  

This fascination carried over into school and when she was in science class doing experiments with her lab partner it all went just a bit sideways as she tried to manipulate the electricity in her experiment… and she somehow got electrocuted, except it was bad enough she ended up at the hospital. There she was alone, there the doctors looked her over, ran a battery of tests, and realized – this poor teen was on drugs, electrocuted and no one was coming to get her. They confined her to the hospital. They called every number they could and it wasn’t until the fifth call that a woman picked up the phone. She claimed to be Noreen’s mother, that Noreen had been living with her aunt for the past year while she was away on assignment in Greece. She had “no idea” about any of this and hadn’t heard from either in a month. She had “been trying to reach them and would be on the first flight out.” 

Noreen told them she was lying, that her mother was not some weird jet setter that lived in another country but a bitch of a lady who lived in the slums. Still; they kept her they started to help her detox and get clean of all the drugs in her system. Two days in she was experiencing severe withdrawals and angry as hell. That was the day her “mother” showed up. She was a beautiful woman, sure, and they looked sort of alike, but not really. But somehow… she had all the paperwork, she knew too much to not be her mom. Noreen felt like her head was in a fog, nothing made sense anymore. She was required to stay another three days before her “mom” could take her. 

But the minute she could the two were on a plane back to Greece. The plane ride was agony and they didn’t really talk. Noreen wasn’t sure what was happening or why or who this woman was but she – also couldn’t get the questions out. So when they finally landed in Greece and she was brought to a temple she was needless to say… very confused. The next five weeks were spent in Hera’s temple with the priestesses. They cared for her and helped her get clean, they taught her meditation and how to calm herself, they took her to the doctor and got her any help they could… and within three months of that faithful day back in Detroit, she was clean. She had cravings, sure, but she now knew ways to deal with it. 

Noreen found out that the woman who had got her was in fact not her mother, but apparently her father’s wife. Hera. This was her temple. She was a Greek goddess and Noreen was the daughter of Zeus – making her a demi-god. She chalked up this weird story to withdrawal and tried to ignore it. But she realized very quickly there was no ignoring this. It made sense with the shocks her whole life, the fact she could see electricity running through the walls, see it everywhere. Hera told her she was welcome to stay so long as she helped around the temple. 

So she did. She helped clean, she learned the ways and she started back up schooling. It didn’t take long for her to make friends. Scout and Lachlan. They became the three musketeers telling one another almost everything… though even to this day she’s still not told everyone her full past. It just hurts too much to think about. But those two – they know more than anyone else. It was this level of trust that started to make Noreen open to the idea of feelings. There was Scout… her best friend who was just so damn pretty. She would watch her when the other wasn’t paying attention and just sigh. Hoping that one day – they could be more. 

But as time passed and the other never really showed much interest Noreen resigned herself to looking outside of their friend group for comfort and love. – well until the day that Scout decided she needed to have a conversation with her and – just kissed her. Needless to say, Noreen was on cloud nine and the two began dating. For years the two were happily in love, and Noreen was certain that they would one day get married. 

Hell, she had a ring picked out and everything! She was ready to go. But she knew better than to propose before Scout finished law school. She would not distract her girlfriend from that endeavor with a wedding. But Scout got more and more absorbed and slowly started fading from the relationship. She stopped wanting to go out, stopped really – even paying attention to Noreen. And after years and years of being ignored by her mother to have Scout, the one person she loved more than anything she blew up. The two argued and shouted and – Noreen stormed out. She just needed some air. Needed a moment to refocus and figure it out… and she would get it. 

Five years of thinking and air. For that night was the first kidnapping. The night that Nyx herself snatched her off the street and put her in the meadows. She was terrified, confused, and utterly unsure of what the fuck was happening. Nyx appeared with her son Weston, and they explained that they had a plan to get Zeus’s attention, that they were sorry they had to take her and she would be back once they got to talk to the man. Noreen tried to tell them that Zeus didn’t care about her, that she had only met him a couple of times, and that he was a trash god. They agreed on that part but they thought – he’d realize that one of his own was taken, that Hera was throwing a hissy fit at Noreen’s vanishment and would do something. But they underestimate the god’s willingness to care about anything other than the next lay he was going to get.

So she’s been in purgatory for five years. Honestly? She hasn’t really noticed the passage of time. It’s like she’s told people, “Time has no meaning here, 1 minute here could be an hour back on earth, 1 day a year. Or it could be 1 minute is 5 years. There are days where I felt like I’ve been here for centuries and days where it felt like five seconds. In the end, I’m here and I like it.” Instead, Noreen dedicated herself to learning how to do all manner of things, she can happily say she’s a much more well-rounded person than she had been in her teens or the last time she saw and felt the earth beneath her feet.  

Being back on earth, away from the meadows is going to be a huge transition for her. But she’s ready to see what the fuck life has in store  – and to kick her father’s ass.

ANYTHING ELSE:

CHAOS. 

[icariamusing]

CHARACTER BASICS

FACECLAIM: Liz Gillies

NAME: Noreen Gomez 

AGE: 26 

BIRTHDAY: January 31, 1994 

OCCUPATION: N/A for the moment 

HOMETOWN: Detroit, MI 

PETS: N/A… for now 

POWERS

She can see and sense the electricity around her, from there she pull the electricity and turn it into small blasts of electricity she can throw at people.

BIOGRAPHY

TWs for:  Prostitution, death, drugs, addiction, child neglect

Marita Gomez was not a woman you could call kind, but damn was she beautiful. She had floated through life using her looks to get what she wanted, and while that got her money and attention it didn’t always serve to put her in a good place or have her care about anyone beyond herself.  By the time she was 18, she was one of the favorites who worked the street and pulled in money for her pimp. Sometimes she’d sleep with the clients, sometimes she’d lead them to those who could get them other black market items, she never really cared so long as she got her next hit and got her money in hand. But she was always the go-to if the cops showed up, petite little Marita could switch between looking as innocent as a lamb and as mouth-watering delicious as a stake to a starving man.

It was that beauty that caught the King of the Gods’ attention. He swooped down from the heavens and took on the form of a human. Marita didn’t care, didn’t want to even know his name, he was just another client. Another fuck to get the drugs she wanted and the money she desired for the clothes she needed. The two had one night of passionate lovemaking before Zeus fucked off back to Mount Olympus and left a now, unknowingly pregnant, Marita. It only took two months before she was showing, three before her clientele started to change to those with a fetish for pregnancy; and by the time she had had her baby? She had grown a following of – eclectic men.

Noreen Gomez was born addicted to coke and in a situation, no kid should be in. Until she was 5 Noreen barely had any contact with those outside of the “family” her mother had cultivated. People flitted in and out of their house, watching her grow while her mom was at work. Sometimes it was the teens from down the street who watched the baby for a small hit when Martia returned home, sometimes it was for a bit – handsier of an exchange. Other times it would be the other sex workers who would occasionally – coo and aww over the baby and other times – forget she existed until she cried for milk or a change. At 5 – well everyone assumed the child was old enough to take care of herself, they stopped caring as much. She was left home alone to make herself food, bathe and change herself and to try and keep the house – somewhat clean. That was something her mom started to expect of her when Noreen was able to walk and remember things.

As a young kid, she worried constantly about where her next meal would come from if they had water, power, all the things kids should never think about. So when the power was shut off one day and she was home alone – it was dark out and she was terrified. Little six-year-old Noreen let out a cry that – well, she wouldn’t know for years why it worked, but the power was suddenly back on, the lights and tv flicked back to life. She never questioned it, and neither did her mother when the electricity bill stopped coming but the power… somehow stayed on.

She started school not long after and while the teachers raised eyebrows and tossed worried looks her way – no one called CPS, no one ever came to check on the obviously neglected Noreen. She learned very early on that adults were trash, and the only people who really cared were the other kids. That was the one time she got any sort of good in her life – when she slept over at a friend’s house and could relax, and just … be a kid.

By 10 Noreen understood how the streets operated, she understood how to get and take without getting in trouble, without getting adults to look at you twice. She understood how to run a con, how to get a bit of extra cash. Her protection? Well, it seemed like she was always a bit electrified. A bit energetic and too quick. You touched her when she wasn’t expecting it? You’d get a nice little shock. No one really questioned it – static electricity but stronger. So she generally felt safe. Most of the time.

She had just scammed a man out of twice the amount of money the product she had was worth when she ran face-first into Jarvis. He had been shocked, both literally and physically, by a 10-year-old who seemed to have a giant wad of cash she was trying to stuff into her non-existent bra. There was a quick exchange of words and meeting of his “kids”  before she understood that she could make more and not have to worry so much if she worked for him. It’s not like her mother would care – it’s not like her mother took care of her. So she agreed and was welcomed into the fold.

By 12 more children had joined Jarvis’ little crusade and Noreen had become known as Spark or Spitfire – mostly because of the static shocks or the words that came out of her mouth. A mixture of Spanish and English and 90% of it cursing your existence. But despite that she became a bit of a mother hen to the other kids, looking out for them and making sure they had food or a place to sleep. It’s not like her own mother cared; So Noreen took in the kids, and they slept on the pull-out couch. They were always out by 9 am (when her mother woke up and usually would start bitching), but came back each night to sleep or just have someone to talk to.

A school friend, one not involved in the life she lived on the streets, had invited her over for a slumber party… turns out it was a surprise birthday party. But the sudden kids jumping out and yelling surprise scared Noreen enough that every light in the house arced and blew out. Before they could finish the word the city block had lost power and it was spreading. Noreen knew it was her; she could feel the sparks arcing from her fingertips to the light switch mere inches from her hand, she could see the electricity in the air. No one else seemed to notice – most just screamed because the power went out but it quickly turned into laughter and lightning candles as they got cake and settled down.  But Noreen… Noreen couldn’t stop looking around, it wasn’t just that some friends had decided to do something so nice for her, but the fact that she could register where all the electricity in the room was by sight and sound. She could hear it humming in the walls, she could see it connecting switches and lights.  

This fascination carried over into school, she was 14,  and when she was in science class doing experiments with her lab partner it all went just a bit sideways as she tried to manipulate the electricity in her experiment… and she somehow got electrocuted, except it was bad enough she ended up at the hospital. There she was alone, there the doctors looked her over, ran a battery of tests, and realized – this poor teen was on drugs, electrocuted and no one was coming to get her. They confined her to the hospital. They called every number they could and it wasn’t until the fifth call that a woman picked up the phone. She claimed to be Noreen’s mother, that Noreen had been living with her aunt for the past year while she was away on assignment in Greece. She had “no idea” about any of this and hadn’t heard from either in a month. She had “been trying to reach them and would be on the first flight out.”

Noreen told them she was lying, that her mother was not some weird jet setter that lived in another country but a bitch of a lady who lived in the slums. Still; they kept her they started to help her detox and get clean of all the drugs in her system. Two days in she was experiencing severe withdrawals and angry as hell. That was the day her “mother” showed up. She was a beautiful woman, sure, and they looked sort of alike, but not really. But somehow… she had all the paperwork, she knew too much to not be her mom. Noreen felt like her head was in a fog, nothing made sense anymore. She was required to stay another three days before her “mom” could take her.

But the minute she could the two were on a plane back to Greece. The plane ride was agony and they didn’t really talk. Noreen wasn’t sure what was happening or why or who this woman was but she – also couldn’t get the questions out. So when they finally landed in Greece and she was brought to a temple she was needless to say… very confused. The next five weeks were spent in Hera’s temple with the priestesses. They cared for her and helped her get clean, they taught her meditation and how to calm herself, they took her to the doctor and got her any help they could… and within three months of that faithful day back in Detroit, she was clean. She had cravings, sure, but she now knew ways to deal with it.

Noreen found out that the woman who had got her was in fact not her mother, but apparently her father’s wife. Hera. This was her temple. She was a Greek goddess and Noreen was the daughter of Zeus – making her a demi-god. She chalked up this weird story to withdrawal and tried to ignore it. But she realized very quickly there was no ignoring this. It made sense with the shocks her whole life, the fact she could see electricity running through the walls, see it everywhere. Hera told her she was welcome to stay so long as she helped around the temple.

So she did. She helped clean, she learned the ways and she started back up schooling. It didn’t take long for her to make friends. Scout and Lachlan. They became the three musketeers telling one another almost everything… though even to this day she’s still not told everyone her full past. It just hurts too much to think about. But those two – they know more than anyone else. It was this level of trust that started to make Noreen open to the idea of feelings. There was Scout… her best friend who was just so damn pretty. She would watch her when the other wasn’t paying attention and just sigh. Hoping that one day – they could be more.

But as time passed and the other never really showed much interest Noreen resigned herself to looking outside of their friend group for comfort and love. – well until the day that Scout decided she needed to have a conversation with her and – just kissed her. Needless to say, Noreen was on cloud nine and the two began dating. For years the two were happily in love, and Noreen was certain that they would one day get married.

Hell, she had a ring picked out and everything! She was ready to go. But she knew better than to propose before Scout finished law school. She would not distract her girlfriend from that endeavor with a wedding. But Scout got more and more absorbed and slowly started fading from the relationship. She stopped wanting to go out, stopped really – even paying attention to Noreen. And after years and years of being ignored by her mother to have Scout, the one person she loved more than anything she blew up. The two argued and shouted and – Noreen stormed out. She just needed some air. Needed a moment to refocus and figure it out… and she would get it.

Five years of thinking and air. For that night was the first kidnapping. The night that Nyx herself snatched her off the street and put her in the meadows. She was terrified, confused, and utterly unsure of what the fuck was happening. Nyx appeared with her son Weston, and they explained that they had a plan to get Zeus’s attention, that they were sorry they had to take her and she would be back once they got to talk to the man. Noreen tried to tell them that Zeus didn’t care about her, that she had only met him a couple of times, and that he was a trash god. They agreed on that part but they thought – he’d realize that one of his own was taken, that Hera was throwing a hissy fit at Noreen’s vanishment and would do something. But they underestimate the god’s willingness to care about anything other than the next lay he was going to get.

So she’s been in purgatory for five years. Honestly? She hasn’t really noticed the passage of time. It’s like she’s told people, “Time has no meaning here, 1 minute here could be an hour back on earth, 1 day a year. Or it could be 1 minute is 5 years. There are days where I felt like I’ve been here for centuries and days where it felt like five seconds. In the end, I’m here and I like it.” Instead, Noreen dedicated herself to learning how to do all manner of things, she can happily say she’s a much more well-rounded person than she had been in her teens or the last time she saw and felt the earth beneath her feet.  

Being back on earth, away from the meadows is going to be a huge transition for her. But she’s ready to see what the fuck life has in store  – and to kick her father’s ass.

LAUREN | SHE/HER | 30 | EST

[enkisstories]

Just like them (part 4)

Still November 16, 2038 Capitol Park

Daniel was standing slightly hunched over with his back against a lantern post. In Raj’s worn out sweater that was a few sizes too large for him and his expression switching erratically between stiffling back tears and radiating searing hatred, the deviant was looking just like another homeless taking a breather between… whatever it was that homeless humans were doing.

The android’s gaze went over Capitol Park; he was taking in the scenery, but feeling nothing. Maybe history had been written at this place, or at least events  that had prepared history getting written had occurred here. But even so, what did history mean to Daniel no-longer-Phillips? It was in the past. Like his old life.

All the places inside me that used to be wolf are empty and the stars haven’t filled up them yet.

The quote had come unbidden to Daniel’s deviant mind. The line came from one of Emma’s favorite animated movies, a fantasy flick about elves that had blood-bonded with wolves to survive on a hostile world they had crashed on in their magical palace. The movie had been all the rage in 2037.

Stars…

Daniel raised his head. A few determined stars were piercing through Detroit’s urban dust cloud. They were flickering as if uncertain if winking out wasn’t the better option.

Yeah, suckers. I have no idea why I’ve come here tonight either.

The idea had been sound, though… One couldn’t go through life in an old sweater of one’s downstairs neighbor and playing a video of the past in one’s head all the time. Striving for redemption meant you had to devote your life to making the world around you as positive as possible, not to make yourself feel as miserable as possible. That sounded uplifting in theory only. In practice no one told you how to achieve those feats. No one ever told you anything. Alone… always alone. Alone with the anger. Anger at the Phillips family. At himself. At the cruel fact that “the Phillips family” and “himself” had always been two different things and that he just hadn’t gotten that. A good chunk of Daniel’s anger also got directed the Rasoya family’s way. The humans had donated some old clothes and pocket money, but then sent Daniel out to “live” and “get it over already”.

Easy to say for them! To the world three months had passed since the kidnapping and the human family was wondering why Daniel hadn’t made any progress at all since then. How hard was it to understand that he had spent those months deactivated? That no time had passed for the android? From Daniel’s perspective his first encounter with Connor had happened the day before yesterday. And, come to think of it, the second one, when Connor had interrogated the PL600 about Jericho, felt like having happened yesterday. The third had occurred only this morning, at the DPD! That were three Connor-moments in as many days!!!

Three days ago… three days ago John had still been alive.

I didn’t want to kill you. Why couldn’t you, I dunno, just dodge my shots? Is that asked for too much?! Yeah, right, like everything. You never lifted a finger for me. And then you died on me, leaving me in this mess…

And that was when the music started, a guitar being played near the center of the square. At first Daniel thought he was imagining the music notes, but then a voice rose up to accompany the guitar player:

Timmain – shape-shifter, your people are exiles / wandering aimless, your people are lost. Hated and hunted, with fear their companion / chilled by the rainstorm and pierced by the frost…

So that was why the deviant had thought about the wolf/stars quote just a few heartbeats ago! Because he had heard the artist strumming their guitar in preparation for this song, without really becoming aware of what his audio receptors were picking up. Now that he was paying attention actively, a quick analysis of his digital memory told Daniel that the song was sung by the very same artist who had performed it for the movie. She was right here and quickly drawing a crowd. Daniel noticed a few androids mixed into the humans. The amount of shoving and getting shoved was pretty equal between both species.

Another PL600 was waving with two hotdogs he had just purchased. From out of the crowd a woman and boychild emerged. They were holding autographs. Great care was taken not to spill fat on the signed pictures when the hot dogs were exchanged for the papers. After the autographs had gotten stored and the humans were holding their sausages, the PL600 put a bubble gum into his mouth so that all three of them were munching on something. And then they took the child between them and walked away, chatting and laughing, as if they didn’t have a single care in the world. And then…

…then Daniel pushed himself away from the lantern post and walked past the family of three, elbowing the android as he went by.

The PL600 turned around and opened his mouth. His human partner dragged him away, muttering: “Let’m. Haters gonna hate, is all.”

What have I done? Why did I...? I didn’t want to hurt it! It did nothing to deserve an attack. It was cherished. No, not “it”. He! What the hell is wrong with me?!

Standing there dumbfounded, Daniel heard the other PL600 lament: “But I thought all the haters had left Detroit during the evacuation! That the hiding and the fear would be over! I mean, it’s been a week since Markus … Uh, silly me. A week is nothing, right?”

Not for humans, but for us. Humans… those lucky buggers are near eternal.

Oh, yes, Daniel of course knew all the talk about thirium being an incredible power source and how android batteries were good for a hundred years or more. And that was true for the happy community of voltaic cells, unfortunately by the time it had reached the end of its life, the battery would have passed through many android bodies, because those weren’t built to last. CyberLife had wanted to sell the newest models, after all. Even before getting shot, Daniel had felt the first age related ailments: scratches on his chassis that had accumulated over time and glitches in his software. The situation inevitably would become worse, especially with CyberLife having dropped support for the PL600 model.   Just like cars, some androids didn’t even survive their first year, but with care they could become as old as twenty, with lucky individuals surpassing even that milestone. It wasn’t fair, but pondering the unfairness of CyberLife’s business plan served to distract Daniel’s mind from the unfairness he had committed himself just now.

“I’ll be back with you in a jiffy!”

That was the singer’s voice, coming from out of the shambling heap made of human bodies.

“But for now let me see to those who are too shy to push forward! We’re all packmates, after all!”

And with these words the singer moved through the crowd towards the fans that were standing at its very edge. In fact, she was standing right next to Daniel all of a sudden and brandishing her pen.

“Uh, sorry, but I don’t…”

“Don’t have a picture to sign? No biggie! We’ve been told how tight money is for many in this city, that’s why my manager brought enough photos to pass around.”

The photograph the singer produced didn’t show her in a costume or anything related to the movie, it was a simple headshot in front of a grey background. The sheet of paper wasn’t even layered to project the signature it was to receive above it either. It was just an old-fashioned 2-D picture.

Clever bastard, that manager, dishing the cheap stuff out to the penniless as to not make the actually paying customers grumpy, Daniel thought, while out loud muttering something about having seen the elf movie with “his girl”. The bitch must have glimpsed my LED (that Daniel had to keep as another of those pesky parole terms), and is now making a big show of sisterhood with an android. That’s all there is to it! Maintaining her public image! She’s not really being  nice to me.

“Want me to sign this for her?” the singer asked. “What’s her name?”

“E… Emma.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Uh… no. I… hate her? I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t want to hate her, but she sure does hate me now. There’s no other possibility.”

“Girlfriend, check”, the singer nodded wisely. “Been there, too, you know.” The artists flashed the android an encouraging smile before turning to the next fan. The crowd started pushing and shoving again, moving across the square like a lazy, content gelatinous cube. Daniel got moved along until the mass ejected him near the CyberLife store’s near-empty window. A few blood bags and replacement components were up for sale, but no androids anymore. Or at least not for time being. In the future… who could tell!

Daniel carefully stored the autograph in his oversized sweater’s front pocket. He might forget about it or it might become an anonymously sent Christmas present. That, too, remained to be seen.

(to be continued)

Timmain - The calling: At 8:27 here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9NPlbTyU40

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 28: Beaten

Summary: One week after the revolution, staff androids return to the 7th Precinct station seeking shelter and refuge. They've clearly been through Hell, and the officers left at the DPD don't have the heart to turn them away.

--

Barely a week had passed since the revolution, and the city of Detroit was still shaken to its core. One week since all the staff androids had walked out of the DPD station, freed and deviant and…all looking a little shaken themselves, if Wilson was honest.

He couldn’t imagine what it was like: to be a machine for your whole existence, only to suddenly be woken up one day and discover you have feelings, wants, likes, dislikes, fears, the whole mess. It was hard enough when you had a whole childhood to figure out how to process things before reaching a hopefully well adjusted adulthood. No android ever got that, and it had showed in the somewhat aimless way that the androids at the 7th precinct had shuffled out of the station, until someone from Jericho arrived to guide them.

Like every other establishment in Detroit, the event had left the precinct with a skeleton crew of exhausted humans, all having to wear multiple hats to try and keep things running. Fowler had been forced to call Hank back from his suspension and Gavin back from his medical leave for his concussion. Between the riots, the protests, the evacuations, and the icy, rainy, slushy weather outside, the city was a mess. The military was maintaining a strong presence on the streets, but they were barely controlling the situations cropping up either.

The night one week after the revolution found the station manned by Wilson, Captain Fowler, and Wilson’s mother, who had volunteered to help answer phones and work around the office. Otis and Rita Wilson had a combined 50 years of police career experience between them, and Fowler had been desperate, so he had allowed Rita to clock in. Otis and Wilson’s brother Mike were still working around the clock at the 04, and his brother’s texts had said the scene wasn’t very different there.

Everybody else at the 07 had been sent out on patrols and new cases, and it left the bullpen eerily empty and quiet. Around 8 pm, that changed when the phone at his desk rang from reception.

“Yeah?” Wilson greeted tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

“Lawrence, we’ve got androids,” his mother said on the other end of the line.

Wilson was on his feet then. “Coming.”

He hung up the phone and hastily made his way through to the front reception area of the station. Sure enough, Rita was standing behind the desk, staring uncertainly at the group of androids who had just shuffled through the front doors. Wilson’s first instinct was to reach for his weapon, but he repressed it, taking in the sorry state of the group.

There were six in total, four wearing standard issue android DPD uniforms. The other two were in civilian clothes. Two of the six had white plastic showing in patches through their synthetic skin due to damage. One of them, Wilson recognized as one of the ST300 models who had worked reception at this very precinct.

“Polly?!” he stammered, taking a step closer while maintaining a cautious distance.

Polly was still in her DPD receptionist uniform, her LED a cycling red that clashed with the blue blood coating one side of her face. She was only standing with the assistance of another ST300 that was in civilian clothes, whose LED was solid red and with eyes wide as she held onto her fellow android.

“She said this place would be safe,” the other ST300 said, her voice shaky but trying to stay even. “Was she right?”

Wilson stared at them all, at their dirty, torn, wet Cyberlife issued uniforms and ill fitting human clothes, their trembling limbs, their wide, frightened eyes. They were bruised and bleeding, and those who still had their LEDs had lights of solid red or yellow on their temples. The other five were somewhat huddling behind the other ST300, who looked equally terrified but like she had been shoved into the position of leader for this motley crew out of necessity.

“Yes,” he answered. “Jericho might be safer for you though.”

The ST300’s face twisted with something approximating anger. “Yeah, I’m not going to them.”

“Why—“ Wilson started.

“Captain, there are six androids here seeking shelter,” Rita cut in, speaking into the phone. “Yes, they’re already inside…No, I don’t see any weapons—“

“Please,” one of the PC200s behind Polly pleaded. “Cyberlife has closed its doors, and this is the only place that I have ever known—“ He looked around at the familiarity of the station’s walls until his gaze landed desperately back on Wilson. “I don’t want to go back out there on my own.”

Wilson didn’t know what to say to that. What COULD he say to that?

Polly abruptly collapsed in the ST300’s arms, her knees buckling as she folded toward the floor.

“Hey!” her friend called, struggling to hold onto her.

Instinct took over, and Wilson swept over, helping her to slow Polly’s collapse so she didn’t hit the floor. Upon closer inspection, the thirium was bleeding from a deep wound to the side of her head, and he could see exposed wiring under her hair.

“Polly?” he asked, shaking her arm lightly. He looked to the leader. “I don’t know how to help her. We only have very basic repair supplies.”

The ST300’s dark eyes softened with the barest shred of hope. “I-I can work with that. Please, we just need a place to stay tonight—“

“What is this?” Captain Fowler reached them, standing imposingly on the scene.

“Captain,” the PC200 said, standing at attention.

“Zeke?” Fowler blinked, frowning at them. “Polly?”

“She’s damaged,” Wilson reported, gathering the limp android in his arms. “This one says she can probably fix her with what we have on hand.”

Fowler looked at the leader. “Were you DPD?”

“No,” she said, standing with Wilson as he got up, carrying Polly. “My name is Julia.” She looked with concern to Polly. “Her charging cells were damaged. Our model was designed to carry nearly 300 percent battery power for…for humans to recharge their devices off us.” She scowled but quickly collected herself. “I can manually transfer power to her, but not out there…”

“We can help around here too!” Zeke stated. “We can work in exchange for shelter tonight.”

Wilson met his captain’s eyes, feeling thirium starting to stain his jacket where Polly’s head was tucked against him. “Sir…”

Fowler stared at them all then heaved a sigh. “Jesus Christ…Fine. Do any of you have any weapons on your persons?”

The other androids all echoed negatives, but Julia carefully held her hands out in full view.

“I found a gun. I have it tucked in my belt.”

“Turn around,” Fowler ordered.

Julia obediently kept her arms raised as she put her back to him. Fowler approached her and found the gun jammed into her belt at her back. He relieved her of it and looked to Wilson.

“Take them to the conference room. See if we have enough in Lost and Found for them to wear. Zeke, you come with me.”

“Sir,” Zeke nodded, following Fowler back into the main station.

Wilson exchanged a look with his mother. Rita was chewing on her lip. She yanked her own thick wool coat off the back of her chair and swept around the front of the reception desk.

“Here, take this,” she said, wrapping the coat around Polly in Wilson’s arms. “Poor thing…”

Wilson led the other androids back into the bullpen. A PM700 that he thought was named Gwen stepped ahead, opening the door for him to carry Polly inside. A herd of squeaky wet shoes followed him in, and he carefully laid the android down on the table, situating Rita’s coat over her. Gwen immediately took over tending to her, and Wilson pointed at Julia.

“You with me.”

As the rest of the androids shuffled into the conference room, dripping and shaking, Julia kept a stiff upper lip, marching after Wilson toward the Lost and Found clothing box in the locker room. It was a pathetic little bundle of clothes, and he grabbed some leftover DPD t-shirts and pants to make up for the shortage.

“Why aren’t you all going to Jericho?” he asked, handing one of the stacks to her.

“I told them they could go,” Julia said, carrying the stack out of the locker room with Wilson. “But when I said I wasn’t, they insisted on coming with me…” She cast her eyes elsewhere. “None of us know—“ She froze abruptly. “This is the 07…Is the RK800 here?!”

She looked around in a panic, and Wilson removed one hand from the box he was carrying, trying to calm her.

“No. I haven’t seen him around here since the revolution.”

Julia visibly relaxed, and Wilson frowned.

“You know he…deviated too, right? He’s not…after you guys anymore.”

Julia didn’t look overly comforted by that. “Just as long as he isn’t here…”

Wilson eyed her, then reached over toward Gavin’s desk as they passed by. He yanked the detective’s heavy jacket off the back of his chair, tossing it over Julia’s shoulder.

“Take that one too. He’s got a hundred of these just like it.”

Julia startled slightly but reluctantly took the jacket. “Thank you…” She read his name patch on his shirt. “…Officer Wilson.”

“You’re welcome, Julia.”

Wilson looked toward Fowler’s office, where the captain was questioning the PC200. It didn’t look ugly, but it did look intense. Back in the conference room, Julia peeled off her wet outer layer of clothes and pulled on Reed’s jacket, which nearly swallowed her.

“I’ll get the repair supplies,” Wilson told them. “And I think we have a bottle of thirium or two lying around. It’s not much, but you’re welcome to what we have.”

“Thank you,” Julia repeated, hugging her arms to herself. “I promise we—we’ll patch ourselves up and be on our way as soon as the sun is up tomorrow.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Wilson assured. “Not like we don’t have the room right now. The, uh, the others know where the charging stations are, and…I’ll talk to the captain about letting you stay longer. If you need anything, let me know.”

He wasn’t sure if androids were capable of crying, but for a moment, Julia looked overwhelmed at his words and on the verge of tears from relief.

Jesus, when was the last time any of them had been shown kindness?

“Thank you,” she repeated again.

Wilson nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door. He took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. He ran a hand over the back of his head and looked toward reception. His mother stood in the entryway, looking just as concerned and perplexed as he felt.

It was going to be another long night.

[immovable-force-archive]

send me a ship // @motherfucking-username​ (I’m doing both but I’m gonna do ‘em in separate posts)

1- Who is the most affectionate?

Connor.

2- Big spoon/Little spoon?

Kisama prefers being the big spoon, but I know Connor likes being able to look at/hold Kisama. Honestly I’m not sure they’re big on spooning when they could just hold each other face-to-face instead. When they do though, they probably trade off.

3- Most common argument?

Probably something about Kisama working too much or not telling Connor things. Kisama keeps a lot of secrets and that’s a main source of friction between them. They don’t ‘argue’ about that much exactly but it does come up a lot.

4- Favorite non-sexual activity?

Cuddling. Although Kisama loves taking Connor just about anywhere outside of work, showing him anything is super cute. 

5- Who is most likely to carry the other?

Hmmmm... It’s close, but I think I’m gonna say Kisama. Which is funny because Kisama tries not to-- Connor weighs over 300 lbs and casually picking him up requires his super-strength. At the same time though, I can totally imagine Kisama carrying Connor to bed bridal-style, or lifting him up and spinning him around when they get home from work. (These two are disgusting ifya haven’t noticed.)

6- What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Kisama’s favorite is either his eyes or his hair. He really loves that tuft Connor has that never stays up.

7- What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

... Everything? They realize it when Kisama is still in Detroit, and has to reconcile that they have about 2 weeks before Kisama heads back to Naobi, basically for good. I’m sure their entire work dynamic changes for a start, though. A lot of looks and pining, Kisama wishing he could just stop working and make every second count before time runs out.

8- Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

'Darling’ would be Kisama’s favorite for Connor, which is something he heard his parents (his dad, specifically) call each other a lot. But Kisama’s fond of other pet names too, like ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey.’ He’ll also call Connor ‘Officer’ at work, and jokingly outside of it.

9- Who worries the most?

God, that’s a tough one. They both worry way too much, can I just say both? Maybe Kisama just barely edges it out because he’s always worrying about Connor leaving if he finds out his secrets, or if he’s protecting Connor too much/not enough at work. Wouldn’t be surprised to see @motherfucking-username disagree though.

10- Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Connor. Seems like the sort of thing he’d memorize.

11- Who tops?

Kisama because that’s what he prefers, but if Connor wanted to give it a go, Kisama would (eventually) try to bottom instead.

12- Who initiates kisses?

They both do, although I think Connor does a bit more often once he gets more comfortable with it.

13- Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Connor.

14- Who kisses the hardest?

Connor, probably? I think they both get pretty into it though.

15- Who wakes up first?

Connor, because he doesn’t sleep--

16- Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Funnily enough, I think Connor again. Kisama is used to getting up early and going straight to work, and I could see Connor saying they have a few minutes to spare to cuddle before getting dressed. (And like backing it up with an exact time of how long it takes for them to get ready, just to sound super convincing.)

17- Who says I love you first?

I think Connor did, in a roundabout way. He admitted feelings first, at least. Kisama might’ve been the one to actually say ‘I love you’, although now I’m not sure.

18- Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

God, Connor would pack lunches for Kisama, wouldn’t he? Maybe gross, sappy, cute things (hearts, short quotes/poems about love, random things about Kisama that he likes, etc.) because these two are disgusting trash--

19- Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Connor tells Hank everything-- Hank actually knew about Connor’s feelings before Kisama did. Kisama tells no one anything ever, although his bodyguards/Axa inevitably find out.

20- What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Kisama’s bodyguards (Andrew and Yuuto) are initially in disbelief, and Yuuto is pretty disgusted with it, but they ultimately come to support Kisama because of how happy Connor makes him. (Having spent so much time with Kisama, and seen a few of his bad moments, they know he really needs more people in his life to support him.) Axa Pfertun, Kisama’s secretary/second-in-command, also starts out as extremely against the relationship, and believes Kisama can’t afford to be anything less than 100% professional at all times, or it will be used against him. She also comes around at some point during the time Kisama and Connor are separated.

21- Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Connor.

22- Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Connor on both counts, although I could see cooking together becoming something they do for fun at home.

23- Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Both of them. They’re losers.

24- Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Kisama likes to compartmentalize his life as a way to cope with stress, so he has a ‘work life’ and a ‘home life.’ Things at work stay at work, and only work things are allowed at work. So I could see Connor whispering things to him at work to try and get him riled up, since he wants to bone in Kisama’s office so bad--

Real answer: They both do, Kisama’s not innocent of this either.

25- Who needs more assurance?

God, both of them again, they suck. Maybe Connor?

26- What would be their theme song?

My ship tag for them is Style by Taylor Swift, although I don’t think that’s a great one aside from a couple lines. First ones that come to mind that I like (as in, first ones I saw after looking through my Youtube likes) are This Feeling by The Chainsmokers, and Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler.

27- Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Kisama. Unless Connor wants to sing Tequila. Or just like open his mouth and make Baby Shark play, like a speaker.

28- What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Work, mostly. That’s the main thing that keeps them apart, and these two both love diving headfirst into work to try and distract from The Gay Thoughts.

29- one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

The fact that Connor will outlive Kisama even in the best case scenario is pretty heartbreaking, along with the fact that Kisama doesn’t think he’s going to make it there. He’ll probably die young, just because of who he is and what his job is. It’s also heartbreaking that Kisama knows there is, technically, a way to bring him back indefinitely via Devil Contracts, and Loqero would be 100% down to help Connor with it. He just doesn’t want this to happen because it basically requires killing someone each time, and Kisama hates the idea that Connor would consider sacrificing innocent people if it meant bringing his boyfriend back. It’s something he never wants to confront, and will probably never bring up as a result.

30- one headcanon about this OTP that mends it.    

Kisama having to take a meeting over the phone while they’re home and it’s running long and Kisama’s pissed about it. Connor walking over and touching his phone to make it shut off, then taking Kisama’s hand and going “Oh no your battery died :) What a shame :)” And then they smooch bc screw running a country when you can be gay instead

Also Kisama at work with Connor sitting in his lap, “””making sure Kisama gets work done””” when they’re actually just snuggling.

[jerichofound]

Indigo -- Reed900

Hi! This is my first real attempt at writing Reed900, but I really didn’t want to let the week go by without giving myself a shot with it. So...here we go, I guess!

@reed900week

Title: Indigo

Rating: M

Prompt: Day 2: Reverse AU

Pairing: Reed900/900Gavin

Word Count: 1562

-

“Detectiiivvve…”

Callum “Nines” Reed pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled an irritated sigh. Until recently, he had been rather impartial to the android movement in Detroit over the last several years. As long as they hadn’t interfered with him doing his job, then they could do as they pleased. His opinion, however, had been swayed upon the DPD issuing him his own android partner designed specifically to assist him in a series of cases involving deviant homicides. The problem laid in the fact that the model, a GV500, was designed to be a deviant himself. He didn’t obey orders, nor did he particularly want to work. Instead, he wanted to play and lounge around the office. Somehow, though, as much as the android, Gavin, he’d named himself, annoyed him, Nines found him to be oddly charming, much like a needy cat. A cat that liked to sleep in his bed and purr when he was touched just the right way.

As it so happened, this was neither the time nor the place for such activities, but Gavin didn’t seem to get the memo.

“Pay attention to meeee…”

“Gavin, please,” Nines grit, ice blue eyes tired as he stared at the pool of purple sticking to the soles of his dress shoes. Purple, because there was thirium mixed with human blood. It wasn’t the first time blend and coagulation of the two together, though it seemed to be a more and more frequent occurrence. He had learned to ignore the odd stares from his colleagues well enough – and had been able to write off Gavin’s behavior as his programming more than plenty of times – but this evening it was exceedingly difficult to shake him. “The sooner we get through this investigation, the sooner you can continue your annoying antics. Right now, I need you to work, do your job.”

“My job…” Gavin drawled, then barked a laugh as he slid around the front of him. “��is to help you.”

“Yes, precisely,” Nines agreed, nodding slightly as he motioned to the two bodies behind the android. Following his line of sight, Gavin turned, then rolled his eyes. Without a word, he kneeled, touching his middle and forefingers to the mixed substance. Nines stood, oddly entranced as he normally was whenever Gavin put the blood to his tongue. It was morbid – it had to be on some level – but he shivered, and Gavin knew he was watching. It was a subtle show, but a show all the same as he slowly dragged his fingers from his own mouth, and oh, he certainly didn’t miss the quick dart of his eyes scanning over his person. There was no way Gavin didn’t know that Nines was, and had been, achingly hard beneath his trench coat and slacks. Nines cleared his throat.

“Well?”

“Android is an LM100, registered under the name Thatcher. And this tall glass of stale water is Christian Locke. 45, with a record of assault and battery charges.” 

Nines turned up his nose. He couldn’t help it. He recognized the name from several cases over the last few years. If it had been up to him, he would have kept the asshole in prison. As it were, he was a detective, and in no such position. Still, he held no sympathy for this particular dead man. He sneered and scanned the room again.

“Let’s do a quick canvas, Gavin. See if we can’t pinpoint at least a cause of death before handing them over to their respective destinations.”

“Way ahead of you, Detective,” Gavin’s tone changed and Nines quirked an eye brow, curious. Gavin pointed to a small wet bar on the other side of the living room, unsurprisingly void of alcohol. Glass shards of varying colors littered the floor nearby, as well as a trail leading to the bodies on the floor.

“Very well. What are you thinking?” The android stood, careful to avoid the glass shards as he maneuvered to the bar. There was something in the way he moved, or maybe it was the way their hands lightly brushed and eyes locked for a millisecond. Whatever it was, it sent a chill down Nines’ spine, one that made his concealed erection twitch and brush across the already tight confines of polyester. Gavin motioned to the bodies, then back to the bar.

“They fought,” he stated simply. He hopped over the bar, and Nines followed him, circling around properly. “One of them defended themselves, though…” Gavin trailed off, eyes landing nearby on an open ring box.

“An affair that went too far,” Nines quietly murmured, and Gavin shifted, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. He straightened his uniform tie, and fidgeted with the sleeves of his white and blue hoodie. “Gavin? What’s wrong?” The android shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“Nothing, Detective,” he responded obediently. Too obediently. “The deviant went too far with its feelings, Mr. Locke panicked. It was a crime of passion.” Gavin scoffed. “Pathetic.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Nines couldn’t help but smirk as he stared at his increasingly disturbed android boyfriend. He stepped closer, pressing a discreet hand to the small of his back. True, Gavin was designed to be deviant. What Cyberlife had failed to take into consideration, however, was that he would, and does, have issues processing certain…emotional traumas. Not that it was necessarily a flaw. He was, just as any other human, prone to stress, to overwhelming fears, to heartbreak.

“Officer, my android seems to be having a bit of difficulty,” Nines lied, sort of. “Have Anderson finish this up?”

“Right away, Detective Reed,” she nodded, and quickly turned to call Connor.

“Let’s go,” he leaned in close to Gavin’s ear and whispered, who barely responded with more than a blink before allowing himself to be led away. It wasn’t always that Gavin was compromised. On the contrary, he was usually quick to be witty, snarky, even. He would make Nines’ job incredibly difficult in the most…interesting ways possible.

No sooner had they gotten into Nines’ car was Gavin on him, straddling his lap and throwing the seat around. Lips, desperate and shaky, covered his own. Nines’ hand responded automatically, gripping his hips and pressing his erection against the front of him. Finally. He’d been wanting this. He’d been wanting nothing more than to ravage Gavin, to take him and make him his, but the little voice in the back of his head held him back.

“Wait,” Nines breathed, and Gavin did so, a tell-tale sign that Nines had been right to hit the pause button on their activities.

“I’m fine, Detective,” Gavin attempted to reassure, but Nines wasn’t biting. “Really I – “

“You think you’re getting in over your head.”

Gavin froze, and the hands that had been moving to bury themselves in Nines’ slicked back hair halted on his shoulders instead. A subtle frown pulled on the corners of his lips.

“I have to do my job,” he insisted, and dove in to kiss Nines again. The detective, however, stopped him, concerned subtly etching into the creases of his forehead and settling in his eyes.

“You’re done, Gavin.” Gentle hands cupped Gavin’s cheeks. Nines hoped that it would calm him.

“Nines, you’re hard. You need me to take care of it.” Gavin tried to move again, but Nines held him there.

“I don’t need you to do that.” Nines cracked a small smile. That was a rarity all in itself. Not that he wasn’t a happy person, at least since Gavin was dropped into his life. Still, Gavin avoided meeting his eyes, and his hands shook as he gripped the front of his coat. “Gavin, what did you make of that crime scene?”

“Phcking  android fell in love,” Gavin sneered, staring out the window, “and he overstepped his bounds. He wanted more, and Locke didn’t…didn’t want him.”

“Gavin, do you think that you’ll overstep some invisible line and I won’t want you anymore?” Ah, there it was – the shock, anger, embarrassment in him being right. The android shifted, and if Nines had still been in the mood to take him and make him scream his name, well, that would have been the right way to shift. As it were, despite the thrill that shook him, he kept himself in check. He gripped Gavin’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. There was pain in his brown eyes that he hadn’t seen before, a fear that was foreign, eating away at him from inside.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Nines whispered against his lips. “Even if the department takes you away as my partner tomorrow, you will always have a place with me, Gavin.” Nines kissed him – slow, passionate, with more feeling than he had ever used to kiss anyone, much less an android. The color of their blood never mattered, though Nines internally found amusement in the fact that their mixed blood was the same shade of purple as the lovers they had been investigating.

Gavin kissed him back, hesitantly until he melted into him. His hands relaxed, and they slid up to Nines’ hair, a move that Gavin often did when he was content. When they broke, the slightest hint of a smirk had replaced the previous frown on his lips.

“You will always have a home with me,” Nines reiterated, and Gavin chuckled.

“Phck off, Nines.”