#orchard programmers

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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A03 Link

Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 9.4K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

Nines continued to dwell on the topic. Extensively and despite resistance.

Reed refused to return to his sphere of mental containment. He was no longer a concept—scattered, meandering preoccupations. Instead, he had become a single, disruptive entity. One that wandered through his mind without tolls or boundaries, as the android was forced to endure the torturous drag of every footfall.

It had been the previous night, when he retreated to his orchard in search of respite, that he saw him. A stain on his meticulously constructed sanctuary, grinning smugly as he emerged from the fruit trees:

“Hey, tin can—come here often?”

‘Protocol: Reed’ proved useless in combating the manifestation. With no tangible stimuli to which it could link, persistent annoyances slipped through, producing large, irreparable holes in its net of security. 

The programme would require extensive tuning, so much that Nines reluctantly conceded to retire it. At least until he could devise a more effective system. And so, the simulation stayed—its behaviour mimicking its real-life equivalent with such startling accuracy that it became difficult to discern from reality. 

A dissonance that was not helped as he input the address of a familiar residential district and began making his way towards it. Charging down the sidewalk, each step weighted by the load of pronounced irritation.

As he moved, he considered his options. A task that was easier said than done. While disruptions crashed like waves, ravaging his battered defences, solutions pooled shallowly on the shoreline. Already scorched, drying beneath a punishing sun.

All recent strategies for promoting compliance, such as increased social contact and rapport, now seemed redundant. Nines supposed that some might deem this karmic retribution, given his duplicitous intentions for fostering such a “bond.”

In any case, it left him with little option but to return to default configurations, limiting involvement with Reed to the bare essentials of work.

Regrettably, this did not spare him from contact outside business hours. There were developments in their case, with circumstances demanding they be discussed urgently, in preparation for Monday.

> COMMUNICATION LINK REQUESTED —> HOST RK900 #313 248 317 – 87; DET. G REED

> PERMISSION GRANTED.

> CONNECTION INITIALISING…

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> DET. G REED

Detective Reed. I have made a breakthrough in the case. Please let me know when you have received this message so we can discuss further.

Model RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 – 87 .

Seeing the man was active on his phone, he awaited acknowledgement—then pressed for attention when this did not come:

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> DET. G REED

I would like to meet in person to discuss this, should you be available. Let me know 

- Model RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 – 87.

DET. G REED  >> RK900  #313 248 317 – 87

its my day off nines. cant it wait until monday?

also you don't need to sign your messages. i know who you are. jackass

Nines huffed, fleeting amusement piercing the fog of his disillusionment. The text exuded intense annoyance, despite its briefness, and he reasoned it was only fair he might draw some paltry enjoyment from the otherwise miserable situation. 

With an adjustment to his autonomous identification system, he constructed another message:

You will want to hear this. I assure you, I won't take up much of your time.

I am messaging you from my internal hub. I will try deactivating the signature, but I cannot guarantee success.

Reed noted the change immediately, making clear he didn’t appreciate the slight to his intelligence:

DET. G REED  >> RK900  #313 248 317 – 87

those last two messages didnt have signatures.

you know what you're doing. stop fucking with me.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> DET. G REED

It would appear I have succeeded. How fortunate .

Nines, feeling pleased with himself, noted the visual evidence of Reed’s struggle to formulate a comeback. He studied the flashing dots at the end of their chat log, flickering perpetually in and out like a buffering search engine. 

This was before they vanished, with satisfaction persisting for as long as it took him to realise they would not be returning.

The status of his partner changed from 'Online' to the time elapsed since his last activity. He waited impatiently for it to switch back, to be provided with a reply. When this did not occur, the pace of his steps began to slow, until he had almost ground to a halt:

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> DET. G REED

To reiterate, my visit will be brief.

I am approximately 7 minutes from your apartment. Please acknowledge.

Any joviality dispersed completely, as Nines firmly reminded himself of the reason for his urgency. 

The information he had gathered was pivotal to their case, but could amount to nothing, should their superior not be convinced. A feat that would be difficult, requiring persuasion, as supporting evidence was nowhere near as airtight as he'd hoped. 

Forensics had submitted their report from the Ravendale crime scene, revealing the same images of the MJ100 that had been uncovered on the forum. While still alarming, this now constituted a case of data breach. Extensive IT investment and funding would be required to track the poster, given the meticulous efforts made to cover their tracks. 

Without the definitive link to their killer—the crux of his argument—it was an effort that would prove difficult to justify. 

All of this had proven vexing enough, troubling the RK900 into the early hours of the morning, but was made significantly worse as he was forced to watch minutes stack on the idle chat log.

Lest Reed slip into the pretence that he wished to engage in superfluous communications, the RK asserted the importance of the situation. The renewed conviction, in turn, corrected his wavering pace, as he sternly marched on.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> DET. G REED

To answer your question, this cannot wait. It is of pivotal importance to the ongoing success of our investigation that we address this matter immediately. 

Updated ETA: 5 minutes. Be ready to let me in.

The apartment complex came into view ahead of schedule, Nines having found the caveat of being ignored uniquely motivational.

Upon charging up the stairwell with the same single-minded efficiency, he rounded the corner to his partner's fourth-storey home. Even if he’d been unaware of its location, there would have been no mistaking which of the doors belonged to Reed.

He glared at the shamelessly proactive ‘welcome’ mat beneath his feet before surveying the nearby wall for a bell. It did not work, as poorly maintained as seemingly all surrounding amenities. Instead, Nines defaulted to a manual approach, striking the wood with firm taps.

Whilst knocking, he sent another message, calling increased attention to his presence:

I am outside. Open the door. 

There was a brief lull in beats, awaiting a response that never came, before Nines started again. This process repeated for some time, with each ensuing correspondence becoming more insistent:

Detective Reed, this is highly unprofessional. 

Knock. 

The door, which felt worryingly flimsy under the weight of his hand, rattled with a sharp creak. 

I know you're inside, and I'm aware you can hear me. 

Knock. Knock.

The sound carried down the length of the corridor, reverberating against ageing plaster walls.

We will be having this discussion. You are making things needlessly difficult. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

There was still no response, and in exasperation, Nines lowered his arm. A sliver of doubt crept into his mind, burrowing through bad faith cynicism. 

Perhaps there was a chance that Reed hadn't heard him. 

It was a Sunday morning, after all, with the man boasting very little in the way of domestic duties. It was entirely plausible he’d gone back to bed, or intrepidly braved the elements to smoke.  

The latter inspired a clearer picture. Reed, dressed in a baggy night shirt and sweatpants, leant precariously over his balcony. A cigarette in hand, he mocked the persistence of his partner to a flock of nearby pigeons—

Cynicism returned, as Nines was shocked back to reality.

Incensed by his own speculations, he bent forward to steal a glimpse of the living room through the peephole. This proved seldom effective, as he was unable to discern anything but the distorted outline of furniture. 

Nines instead pressed an ear to the door, tuning for increased aural and metabolic sensitivity, searching for traces of life. Instead, a disruption was identified. Dull, continuous rushing—the flow of running water. 

He scowled. Choosing to bathe amid active correspondence proved callous enough; doing so without any form of acknowledgement omitted the most basic of courtesies. 

The android lingered, listening on, stewing in disdain. More productively, he was able to deconstruct the water’s pitch and frequency, determining the precise amount of force needed to reach his partner, without inadvertently destroying the door. 

He then straightened up, his fist raised toward the panel, and prepared to strike. Before he did so, however, a shift of motion caught his attention and he stalled.

As his head snapped around, he was faced with an elderly woman stepping onto the landing. She clutched a bag of groceries to her bony chest, with a larger carrier trolley pulled a few inches behind her.

She looked horrified, bewildered, with sunken eyes darting repeatedly between Nines and the door. He wondered how long she had been watching, despairing at the thought. A rush of humility and self-awareness bristled through him before he pulled away sharply from the apartment. 

With his arms tucked neatly behind his back, he attempted to save face, dissuading any presumptions of unsavoury intent by providing additional context:

“There is no cause for concern, madam—I know the man who occupies this lot. He is my partner.”

The woman continued to squint, her beady eyes lost in crinkled folds of her face. Then her thin lips parted, saggy jowls stretching wide before she released a hum of understanding. 

“Ohhhh, I see, I see...” She smiled, nodding her head before turning on her heel and hobbling away. As she moved, she muttered a series of disjointed pleasantries under her breath. 

“Such a nice man—so polite—I thought he was single, isn't that sweet—”

The words struck like a cold rush of water to the face. This was chased by a sharp surge of biofluid as Nines realised he had been woefully misunderstood. 

His mouth opened to correct her, but it was too late. The woman, surprisingly nimble for her age, had already rounded a nearby corner, the squeaking wheels of the trolley carrying along behind her. 

He stood alone, reeling from humiliation, considering the place he had secured himself in the building’s rumour mill. Then he shook his head, dislodging the trivial concern. There was no sense wasting energy on matters of personal pride—not when this power could be more productively invested in achieving his primary objective:

> ENTER DETECTIVE REED'S APARTMENT. 

The shower continued to rumble distantly, with no signs of stopping. He found it difficult to believe that Reed would prove so diligent in personal hygiene. It seemed more likely that he had become preoccupied with other, less sanitary, activities, or that he had already finished, neglecting to switch off the water. 

Nines had no desire to loiter indefinitely on the doorstep—subjecting himself to the scrutiny of prying neighbours—to find out.

With a direct route of access unavailable, he would have to secure an alternative. Ideally, one that allowed for some degree of discretion. 

Accessing local architectural archives, the android searched until he had uncovered the blueprints for Detective Reed's complex. Constructing a wireframe projection of the building, he then assessed for other access points. 

To his relief, there was a network of fire escapes mounted to the south side of the building. The structure served each home above ground level, connecting them safely to the streets below.

As his attention drifted up, he noted a blank-faced effigy emerging onto one of the balconies. A cigarette was clasped in their fingers, lifted to an absent mouth for a slow, indulgent drag. Ash was then flicked, scattered in the direction of a dispersing flock of birds…

He dismissed the simulation, prompting an update to his physical routing. Once finalised, Nines pivoted on his heel and proceeded to the new destination. 

Whilst moving, he affirmed the justification for this trajectory. In case it required explaining to his superior officer. He hadn’t intended any breach of personal boundaries or privacy. He had simply been acting in the interest of professional diligence, as well as consideration for his partner.

After all, he had failed to secure Reed’s attention following multiple attempts. It was entirely plausible that there was a more serious reason as to why.

A slip, perhaps, when leaving his inordinately long shower.

As Nines reached the back of the building, assessing the network of frames, it became clear that his polished simulation failed to account for some crucial aspects. Principally, the real-life structure was abysmally maintained.

Rusted bolts protruded at odd angles, with attached platforms damaged or missing in several places. The additional weight and pressure on ill-secured joints had caused the entire framework to bow disconcertingly.

It fell so woefully short of Michigan safety codes that it may as well have collapsed completely, left piled in the centre of the pavement. Indeed, he predicted this would be the fate of any misguided individual who attempted to use it. Additional strategy would be required to ensure a safe ascent. 

Nines focused his cognitive output onto pathfinding, assessing optimal routing for both stability and discretion. After several failed calculations, in which he was forced to witness a simulation of himself plummet pitifully to the ground, systems locked into a path that proved feasible. 

He began to climb the escape ladder, tactfully avoiding the loose rungs and evading the unsteady grates that risked collapsing under his weight. Utilising the leverage of a suspended bar, he swung across a narrow gap, only realising mid-momentum how close he had been to a nearby window. 

The android was operating on borrowed time. A concerned resident could contact law enforcement at any moment. The result of which would be an intensely awkward interaction with one of his colleagues.

By the time he reached the fourth floor, he was infuriated. Deeply resentful at having been forced to degrade himself in such a way. The sum of this frustration, of course, was targeted at the man who had made such measures necessary. 

Stepping onto the balcony, he noted that one of the windows had been left ajar. Just enough that he could confirm there were no further sounds of water—dwindling alibis, stripping Reed of a primary excuse for ignoring him. 

There was no trace of the man as he peered into his kitchen, although Nines was able to detect the metabolic rhythms of another, smaller creature. It was Tiffany, seated off to the side, growling as she stared accusingly into an empty food dish. Nines could feel his frustration fester in solidarity with the animal. All the more incentive to enter the apartment, feeding her himself, should his partner consider self-indulgent idleness a greater priority.

He tapped on the glass, firm and insistent, enough that the frame rattled from the impact. He maintained a close visual on the nearby door, anticipating that the human would be unhappy to see him whenever he decided to grace the RK with his presence. 

This posed no concern. Nines had exerted far too much effort, implicated himself in far too many potential misdemeanours, to back away now. Despite this, he resolved to maintain professionalism and restraint in the impending confrontation. 

The approach was clear: assertive, but brief. Cover the key points, establishing enough cohesion with Reed to ensure he wouldn’t actively impede their meeting with Fowler. Then, he would leave, having successfully limited extraneous contact, in line with their shared interests.

His partner still refused to show himself, having transformed what should have been a straightforward task into an arduous feat of self-discipline. 

It was a fight that Nines risked losing, as his clenched fist came dangerously close to compromising him. ‘Accidentally’ striking the pane with too much force, shattering fragile glass and permitting him passage into the home…

Then, at long last, there was movement and the structural integrity of the window was preserved.

As Reed came bumbling through the doorway, it was clear he was unwell. He sported a bedraggled appearance, strikingly similar to the one he had on the first day of their partnership. It was a sickly kaleidoscope of discolouration—sallow flesh paired with purple rings beneath swollen, bloodshot eyes. 

No doubt, a consequence of overindulgence the night before. The plans Nines had become privy to when catching the man in a slanderous digital rant to Officer Chen.

While enjoyment was undoubtedly drawn from the tragic presentation, it was not the only aspect of his appearance that proved…compelling. An injustice which struck Nines like a blow. By far, the most violent and unyielding that had been levied against his wounded pride.

Prior assessments of the man's physiology proved woefully correct. Reed was in remarkable condition, given his unsavoury lifestyle.

While there had been hints of a well-formed physique beneath the wrinkled folds of clothes, it was indisputable in his current undress. Only his lower half was covered, tucked beneath the fold of a bath towel, with his upper body bare. Comprising well-defined muscles, his chest was lightly dusted with hair, interspersed with scattered scars.

He clutched the side of his temple, head bowed, muttering inaudibly. As the cat across the room yowled in growing impatience, his grumbling grew more incensed. He recoiled, wincing, his torso jutting forward as he did so. 

The overhead light caught on the moist droplets clinging to his skin. His towel shifted, its tie loosening slightly, revealing the top of a sharp V-line that traced the contours of his abdomen.

Nines’ HUD flashed in warning, alerting to a sudden arrhythmia in his pump regulator. His scowl deepened, and his gaze, which had wandered traitorously, was snapped back into proper alignment.

Reed staggered further into the kitchen. Presumably, to serve the pet her belated meal. The effort soon proved too strenuous, however, as he stalled mid-step, visibly dazed and teetering precariously. It took some time to steady himself. Once he had, he redirected swiftly, shifting his course to the overhead cabinets by his sink. 

He swung the first open and proceeded to rifle through its contents. Although visibility was limited, Nines caught glimpses of precariously piled dishes that shook with each ill-coordinated reach. 

It was unclear what the man was looking for, but whatever it was, it was considered to hold great importance. The man grew increasingly frantic the longer he searched, not helped by the fact that he, too, was operating with restricted vision. 

The top of the shelves sat just above his eyeline, to which Nines suppressed a chuckle. He did not wish to compromise his position, at least not yet, whilst flailing arms remained entangled in fragile porcelain. Any damage would be a consequence of Reed's own carelessness, for which the android refused to accept any responsibility. 

He instead waited for a more suitable moment to catch his attention, ensuring he would not be startled. At last, Reed stepped back, his annoyance plateauing before it plummeted into dejected surrender.

Nines seized his opportunity and knocked again. Not as firmly as he had before, just enough to ensure his target became aware of his presence. 

It became clear that he had miscalculated the timing of this address, or the human’s tolerance to sudden noise. His lowered head jerked to attention as Reed looked at him, utterly terrified.

His already puffy eyes bulged to comedic proportions as a sharp curse tumbled from his lips. He stumbled back, a jumbled mess of flailing limbs, before reaching instinctively to his side—no doubt a reflex borne from years on the force.

As his clenched hand gripped at nothing, he was thrown further off balance. The man swayed, directionless, only halting when he clipped the side of a nearby table.

The corner stabbed at exposed skin, and he arched away, hissing like an irate cat. His actual feline sat to one side, having witnessed all this take place but barely reacting. Instead, she pawed at her bowl, the lingering dregs of her patience rapidly dwindling.

Recovering from the fallout of his shock, Reed’s head swung trepidatiously back to the window. Recognition began to settle on his face, loosening the tense lines of panic. 

They returned soon after, with a vengeance, the centre of his brow pinched into a large, unsightly knot. Flames of accusation roared, crackling behind his narrowing gaze, as Reed glared . His attention darted between the android's face and hand, as though daring him to knock again. 

Nines rose to the challenge without hesitation. Following another brisk tap, he used his available hand to gesture towards the balcony door. A request that his partner received but coldly rejected. 

The two were locked in a stalemate, neither willing to yield. Of course, Nines held a substantial advantage, capable of waiting for much longer than his organic counterpart. 

Something that also seemed to be dawning on the human, as cracks began to splinter through his obstinate resolve. One of his eyelids twitched, and his head pulled stiffly to the side, as though he were attempting to remove the RK900 from existence through the power of mental persuasion. 

When the effort was unsuccessful, he grunted bitterly and proceeded towards the door with heavy, reluctant steps. His towel remained pinned to his waist as the android mused on how well it had held through all the commotion.

He had not stepped an inch onto the foot mat when the entrance swung open. It narrowly missed a full-on collision to his face, as the android sidled to avoid it. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

The demanding bark omitted any greeting. It was hurled into his face with violent propulsion, chased by a potent waft of alcohol. 

Nines ignored the smell but could not overlook the opportunity to levy a jab at the man. The consequences of his late-night escapades were all the more apparent now he was standing up close. 

"Good afternoon, Detective,” Nines said calmly, inspecting him with an equally manufactured diplomacy. “You're looking well.”

Reed saw through this instantly. He squared his shoulders, appearing to make another attempt at willing him out of existence.

"No, seriously. What are you doing? Because if this is about work, I swear to god, I'm pushing you off the balcony. I already said no, I don't want to—"   

"I never received a 'no,'" the RK interrupted coolly. “You asked if it could wait until Monday. I concluded that it could not and informed you as such. Did you not receive my message?" 

"I stopped reading your messages, dipshit. They were pissing me off.” The retort was delivered with a matter-of-fact finality. As though it differed in any way from the vast sum of their interactions. “Why didn't you knock on my door? Instead of scaling the fire escape like a goddamn lunatic?" 

"I tried the door, but you were not answering." 

"I was in the fucking shower. You could have waited a minute." 

"I waited several minutes."

The vein that pulsed on Reed's temple looked ready to burst. He shifted his stance, feet braced in a stubborn blockade between himself and the apartment.

It seemed increasingly unlikely that Nines would be granted entrance. At least, not without moving the man by force. Instead, he appealed to his better judgment, attempting to incite reason. “Nevertheless, I am here now, so you may as well let me in."

"Are you—" The sentence broke, devolving into a series of indignant splutters. Following his impromptu impersonation of a malfunctioning motor, Reed started again.

"Okay, another ‘Human Tip’, jackass.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. “You can't just show up at somebody's house without permission. For all you know, I might have been busy, like, I dunno, cranking one out. You really want to walk in on that?"

Nines tilted his head, taking a moment to process the strange colloquialism. A cross-check of his internal database revealed a plethora of detailed sources. All of which he would have much rather avoided.

Having already considered this prospect as a reason for the man's tardiness, he informed him as such in a curt rebuttal. “I am perfectly aware of human fondness for self-stimulation. Truthfully, there are less appealing things I can think of seeing." 

Reed baulked, his disgruntled scowl dropping immediately. The pace of his breaths quickened, core body temperature elevating in tow. He seemed suddenly, inexplicably conscious of his undress, where it hadn't bothered him previously. 

His stance was adjusted, his arms crossed tightly over his torso, as though he were attempting to recover some modesty. Paradoxically, there was a dilation of his pupils, indicative of unspoken interest, before his gaze was averted. 

It was only then, with all these elements falling into place, that Nines realised what he had done. 

He cursed his social routing for leading him so wildly astray, propelling him into the second major miscommunication of the day. 

This one proved more troublesome, as he would be forced to endure the fallout. Attempt to recover some degree of professionalism following the inadvertent flirtation. A tactic for behavioural management that had been firmly abandoned, given recent—

"I'll let you in.” A voice interrupted, injecting itself into his spiralling thoughts. It was dry, forcibly stilted, attempting to mask the subtle waver that persisted throughout. 

A stipulation was then added, as though to dispel any speculations that the invitation was cordial. "...but only because I don't want my neighbours to think I'm being robbed." 

One of his arms fell limply from his chest as Reed flung it behind him, ushering Nines inside. He failed to respond, staring at the limb, paralysed by bewilderment. 

Then came a creeping realisation. One that perhaps indicated his interpersonal routing had not been so fatally flawed. Clearly, some dormant part of himself had anticipated this outcome, quietly electing to retain specific processes deemed defunct. A subtle rebalancing of control, adjusting the scale tipped heavily in his partner’s favour.

As the RK900 was led inside, Reed stared fixedly ahead, with such steadfast ferocity that he could have punctured a hole in the nearby wall. Tiffany, noting her owner's return, responded fast. Bouncing to her feet, claws clicking against the tiles, as she intercepted him halfway across the room. 

Her wiry tail, already moving in restless swings, was swept like a duster across the side of his exposed ankles. Reed jolted back, his attention torn from its deadlock with the plaster as he sidestepped the furry hazard. 

He mumbled a half-hearted apology before directing a similarly unenthused acknowledgement towards his partner. As though tacitly barring the RK from advancing further, he gestured vaguely toward his displaced dining table. 

Nines obliged without comment—if only to ensure Tiffany would receive her ‘breakfast’ before sundown. After adjusting the furniture's positioning, he sat in one of the cheap, fold-out chairs and waited. 

Under his silent observance, Reed reached into his pet supply cupboard and pulled out a wet food packet. The wrapping was partially opened, a tear teasing at the edge, before the motion was aborted. 

Reed dropped the sachet, heaving uncontrollably. Clearly, some combination of the smell and texture had deeply offended his current delicate sensibilities.

 It was almost comedic, just how disproportionate the aversion proved. He doubled over, slumping pitifully in the RK's direction, stomach clutched in pained grips. Nines quietly estimated the space between them, determining whether or not he was at risk from any digestive fallout. 

“Are you alright, Detective?” He prepared to sidle his chair to a safer distance, should his calculations prove unfavourable.

“Fuck off,” came a clipped reply. 

Reed stumbled back, and for a moment it seemed as though he might topple over. Pushing past his aversion, Nines prepared to step in. There would have been little point in troubling himself with the visit should the man decide to collapse on the floor, rendering himself unconscious.

“I would be happy to offer my assistance,” he offered, in a slight embellishment of keenness.

As though out of spite, Reed shook off his bout of squeamishness. Standing tall, he fixed Nines with a glare of obstinate defiance. 

“I said ‘fuck off’. ” 

He made a concerted effort to appear unfazed as he resumed his duties. This involved several instances in which he covered his mouth and nose, or anchored his body away to conceal more aggressive signs of repulsion. A long, steeling breath was drawn before the off-kilter man braved a final, perilous descent toward the kitchen tiles, setting down the freshly-stocked dish.

Not fast enough, it seemed, as Tiffany had already lost interest. 

Having abandoned her station by his feet, she skulked around the kitchen in fractious circles. Amber eyes were alight with consideration as she sniffed the floor, searching for any morsels of food that her owner might have callously dropped. It was during this sweep that she noticed the legs protruding beneath the nearby table. 

She pulled away, startled, her ears pinned back trepidatiously. Studying the stranger, he watched the continuous bounce of his knee as he waited impatiently for Reed to compose himself.

A low grumble started to build, rattling in her throat, pulling the android free from his agitated trance. He looked down, to which vibrant eyes locked firmly with his own. 

They stared at each other silently until Nines recalled the warnings he had received on her penchant for territorial hostility. He stilled at once, tension drained from his posture, as he slowed the pace of his blinks and subtly diverted his gaze. The aim was to project as much passive openness as he could, hoping Tiffany would judge him harmless and resume her patrol.

She did not. Instead, the cantankerous feline proved unexpectedly receptive, abandoning aggression and meeting his gesture with placid curiosity. She strolled up to the android, planting herself at the base of his chair before admiring her reflection in the tips of his polished shoes. 

Attention then turned to his ankle, her nose bumped lightly against the pant leg. She stalled, then repeated the motion. This time, incorporating the arch of her neck, adding weight and pressure. 

She was testing for life; tangible feedback to demonstrate her touch was felt. Nines was not surprised that she was unfamiliar with the logistics of androids. He doubted Reed had invited many into his home previously. He helped to mitigate confusion, allowing a slight shift of his heel, just enough for his leg to brush against inky fur. 

It was all the affirmation the cat required, as she settled into a reclined position before curling peacefully into a ball. In turn, the relaxed rise and fall of her breath, visible through her protruding gut, gave Nines the assurance needed to extend appreciation for the trust. 

His hands, clasped primly in his lap, slowly began to unfurl. Fingers outstretched, flexed gently before sinking beneath the chair.  His reach was angled in such a way that Tiffany could anticipate it. Sinking lower until he had ghosted the top of her skull—

" Don't ." Reed, having become aware of what his partner was doing, was quick to interject. “I've already told you, Nines. If you touch her, she'll—”

The warning came too late. Contact was made, with any ongoing protest shrivelling on his tongue. 

Nines began massaging her fur, discovering that the texture matched its lustrous appearance. He worked the delicate bones beneath with expertly applied precision, and soon found the sensitive junction behind her ear. 

Tiffany purred appreciatively, and if Reed were an android, his slackened jaw may have dislodged completely, clattering to the floor beneath him. His bulging eyes would have likely followed, popping from his skull and rolling out of sight beneath the fridge. As it stood, they remained nestled in their sockets, watching on dumbly. 

"It would appear your cat likes me, Detective Reed.” 

Nines had been unable to suppress the pride that carried through this announcement. It rushed his partner, proving enough to snap him back to reality. His mouth clamped shut, curling into a tight, bitter snarl. A low noise rumbled the seal, sounding distinctly like a growl. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he set the still-hovering food bowl harshly to the ground. 

The clattering metal disturbed the peace of his pet. Her head whipped around, slipping loose from the hold that was caressing it. Bounding onto snowy paws, she abruptly trotted away, leaving Nines’ arm suspended in the space she had occupied. 

Reed, delighted that his exercise in petty insecurity had worked, grinned at the android. This was before he shook his head, tutting in ‘commiseration.’

 “That’s cats for you. Fickle bastards.” 

The mockery backfired, justly punished, as the rocking motion appeared to trigger a new wave of dizziness. His body, which had only recently peeled from the nearby counter, collapsed back into it, left draped on the granite like a sickly ragdoll. 

Nines, in his own act of spitefulness, responded with false sympathies to the self-inflicted suffering, "You appear to be in physical distress, Detective. Are you in pain?"

"I'm hungover , dipshit,” the human snarled back, as though the android were incapable of ascertaining this for himself. 

He groaned and writhed, his head turned towards the sink, as it occurred to Nines that this spectacle of self-remorse might endure for an indeterminate period, unless steps were taken to prevent it.

In search of a solution for the man’s distress, Nines remembered the animalistic scavenging observed through the window. It was plausible that Reed had been searching for something to alleviate his discomfort before abandoning the attempt. 

Recalling the footage from his memory archives, he began sifting through it, dissecting each frame. Amongst the precariously stacked plates, Nines noted an unusual number of mugs. It seemed excessive, almost absurd, for a single person to own. 

Some had been used more than others, as evident in chipping and stains, with two of them showing the most wear. The first was adorned with a bizarre statement decrying law enforcement, whilst the second could only be described as a hideous misuse of artistic expression. 

A hand-painted atrocity, adorned with a series of bright, uneven smiley faces. It seemed unusual that Reed would show a preference for it, until Nines studied the near illegible message crammed into the centre:

> NO.1 CAT MOM

The handwriting was familiar. A lopsided scrawl he had seen pasted to his partner's monitor numerous times, in the form of post-it notes:

> SAMPLE MATCH... CONFIRMED.

> OFFICER TINA CHEN. 

As the name displayed confirmed his theory, Nines was struck with a reluctant sense of…charm. It was endearing that his partner showed such sentimental fondness for the gift, despite its questionable execution. 

He tried not to dwell on this long. Instead, moving on to the next still. As his focus shifted further into the cabinet, he noted an obstruction wedged between two stacks of plates. It was a small screw-top bottle, its label faded from wear, but the contents clearly visible:

> ACETYLSALICYLIC ACID (ASPIRIN)

> DRUG CLASSIFICATION: ANTI-INFLAMMATORY

> DOSAGE: 300MG SLOW-RELEASE CAPSULES — UP TO 2.4G PER DAY 

WARNING: DO NOT EXCEED RECOMMENDED DOSE, FOLLOW MANUFACTURER'S INSTRUCTIONS.

By the time Nines had dismissed the memory log, Reed was scarcely upright. His shoulders trembled, quivering arms propped on the side as they struggled to support his weight. 

Undoubtedly, there wasn’t much time before the man would be forced to retire to bed, to which the android directed smoothly to the cupboard above his head. "Painkillers are on the top shelf—behind the mugs."

This sparked an immediate response. In another miracle recovery, fueled purely by shock and misguided pride, Reed snapped to attention: Bolt upright, sights darting sceptically between the android and the cabinet.

"...So what, you got X-ray vision or something?”

“Not as such, merely an observation." 

His partner was unable to comprehend this. He squinted at the sealed door, lips parted and ready to protest, before he was halted by the mounting pain rattling his skull. His expression contorted, cortisol spiking, as he abandoned his desired elaboration in favour of more urgent needs. 

He opened the cupboard with a clumsy jerk and searched its contents a second time. He seemed muddled, almost maddened, when he remained unable to locate the painkillers—as if he’d expected the bottle to bound from its hiding place and slide obediently into his grip. 

Nines felt his lip twitch as he considered putting the man out of his misery. Not with any permanence, but rather, reaching over to secure the item that sat tantalisingly out of reach. He could only imagine the reaction this may inspire, the almighty knee-jerk of wounded masculinity. 

Eventually, fingertips brushed the lid of the painkillers. Stormy eyes brightened with recognition as Reed pressed down, applying pressure to the seal. It was just enough to flick the bottle forward, dislodged from the hold of the plates.

With the item held securely in his palm, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was before the sound lodged in his throat and his attention snapped back to Nines. Scepticism returned to his gaze. This time, edged with a more biting accusation. 

" How did you know this was here?" 

"I noticed them earlier when you were searching your cabinet…” the RK900 began plainly, unable to resist the additional, “I'm surprised you didn't” that slipped from his curled lips.

"Oh, what, when you were creeping through my window? Didn't think 'Peeping Tom' was one of your features."  

The smirk had slipped from Nines’ before it finished forming. While it was true that there had been an element of passive appreciation that had developed when watching the man, it hardly seemed fair to insinuate that any planning was involved. 

He dismissed the notion accordingly, in a brisk defence of his honour.  "Please do not flatter yourself—I would have liked to have made my presence known sooner, but I was seeking to determine an opportune time. I did not wish to frighten you.”

Reed was no longer looking at him. Instead, he had started to busy himself at the nearby sink, a callous snub of his presence. Even without the weight of his glare, tension persisted, held in the clench of his jaw before it was released:

“Well that was a bust, because you scared the shit out of me." 

The mocking, sing-song cadence delivered a final, striking blow, toppling Nines from his pedestal of superiority. Any lingering confidence in his own professionalism promptly crumbled to dust. He had miscalculated—fumbled—at almost every juncture that day. Having floundered gracelessly through the threshold of Reed's apartment, rather than entering with precisioned steps. Two pills were deposited into his palm, and the detective neatly swallowed them. The bicarbonate coating dissolved, allowing bitter powder to fizz on his tongue. He then chased away the taste with a large gulp of water.

With his face flung back, out of view, Nines found that his mind subconsciously filled in the blanks. Summoning echoes from recent data banks, as gentles trickle of water were exchanged for beads of perspiration. Satisfied sighs became gasps of terror, then pain, as Reed retreated, colliding with the edge of the table.

He pondered what the human might have experienced in that instant. The outcome he had foreseen, reaching for his waist, in a reflexive grab for his missing firearm. He had already concluded the intruder posed a lethal threat to his life, based on a single, fleeting glance—

 0̷̛͈̪͇̺̞̠̳̦̝̗͇̳͇̀̈́̋̉͝͠͠r̸̨̢̡̯̗̙̰͓͉͖̬͉͖͗͌̈́̏̎#̶̛̛̪̘͇̫̗͎̣̂̅͐̀̉́͛͆̀́̆̓͠͠ć̸̡̣͍̠̦̩̥̣̣ͅ@̷̛̛͔̯̓̃̑͐̈́̽̽ù̶͖͈̦̲͕͔̻̹̥͔̊̉̂̎͑͗͝+̷̨̟͓̐̉́̀̈̀!̵̡̩͓̲͍̯̰͌̉͋̈̌̒̊͋̐̾͐̌̈́̚͜͝0̵̧̪͍̯̝̟͚̹̖͍̹̙͍̫͖̯̈́́̒͌̿͌̿̅̇̔̉͠ū̷̖̳̩$̴̼̝̺̥͚͓̥͚̩͈͖̤̲̈͠

Shame and self-contempt surged, straining the walls of his skull. He pushed it back, along with all manner of unwanted memories. The agonised howls of cries, screams, rattling like a gale through the rafters of his subconscious. 

He couldn't face them. Not now. Instead, he adjusted his perspective, acknowledging his failures in accepting responsibility for a far less egregious offence. 

“...I apologise.” 

Reed’s head snapped back, recoiling so forcefully that his neck appeared elasticated. Stray droplets dribbled from the overgrown stubble on his chin as he stared at the android blankly. 

Slowly, gears of cognition began to shift behind his stare. A process that was becoming all too familiar, as eyes narrowed into dubious slits, and the sincerity of the remorse was brought into question with a callous tsk. "Sorry to tell you this, Nines, but the 'kicked puppy' look really doesn't work for you—give it a rest; you look constipated.”

The RK900 bristled, but had no chance to defend itself. Reed finished his drink, slamming down the empty glass with a disconcerting clink. 

"Look, as disappointing as this might be for you, towel time is over,” he announced bluntly. Rubbing his palms together, he hunched to protect himself from the cool draft seeping from the nearby doorway. “I'm freezing my balls off; gonna get dressed…While I'm gone, don't touch anything . That includes my cat. You got that?" 

Nines wavered, a bit disheartened by the final stipulation. He agreed nonetheless, nodding stiffly, valuing the proposed physical distance, as it might help him organise his chaotic thoughts into a more rational structure.

As it transpired, he had time to spare. 

The human showed no signs of rushing himself, as Nines was left to sit in the kitchen for an inordinate amount of time. Provided with no direction except to stare at the filthy appliances he had been forbidden from disturbing. The logical assumption in the delay was that the human, too, was appreciating their distance. Although it seemed counterintuitive, to provide the android with prolonged, unsupervised access to a space where he wasn’t trusted. 

Seeking an escape from mind-numbing tedium, as well as ensuring any lingering tension was dispelled quickly upon Reed’s return, Nines sought to connect to an inactive temporal link, dispatching a new transmission:

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 >> RK800 #313 248 317 - 51

I have made a small error in my interpersonal judgment. Your input on how to resolve this matter would be appreciated.

…Of course, no actual input was needed. Nines already knew, with the utmost confidence, what RK800 would say to him. 

He would ‘enlighten’ his counterpart on conclusions he had already drawn. A significant line had been crossed during his forceful invasion of the detective’s home. 

There would be a touch of hypocrisy in the rebuke, which Nines would consider exploiting, reminding his counterpart that he had engaged in a far clearer instance of breaking and entering, targeting Lieutenant Anderson. Nonetheless, he would concede, acknowledging that he was the last individual to pass judgment on matters pre-deviancy...

Time passed slowly as Nines grew disinterested in the fictional dialogue. RK800 hadn’t responded, a rare event, prompting the younger android to conclude he was exceptionally busy or locked in stasis. In either case, any response he could expect would arrive long after the point of relevance. 

In the absence of external support, he began to evaluate his options. 

At this point, his best chance to reduce tension might involve expressing delayed gratitude for Reed’s hospitality. However, his choices would be significantly restricted if he continued to follow the man’s restrictive instructions.

> STAY PUT.

> EXTEND GESTURE OF GRATITUDE TOWARDS DETECTIVE REED.

> ERROR : CONFLICTING INSTRUCTIONS. 

As he scoped his surroundings with renewed intention, Nines found his attention caught on a well-used coffee machine. Specifically, a glass jug, blotched with stains, resting on its base. Its contents were emptied, save for a viscous brown sludge caked to the bottom, betraying just how long it had been sitting.

Inspiration struck, encouraging the android to rise from his chair. Defiance was secured as his systems honed in on their new priority. 

> MAKE DETECTIVE REED COFFEE. 

The dirtied pot was removed and cleaned, with what sparse dish soap was left beside the overfilled sink. Setting it back into position, focus was directed to the cluttered storage above his head. 

The first product Nines encountered was an economy-grade filter blend. Upon checking the brand with online retailers, the reviews were notably poor. He was taken aback that Reed would tolerate such subpar quality, even with his financial strains, given his frequent and vocal complaints about the coffee served at their workplace.

It seemed unlikely that such a mediocre product could serve as a proper peace offering. Frowning, Nines continued to rummage through the disorganised shelves, eventually discovering something more promising, hidden beneath a pile of crumpled noodle packets:

> BRAND: BLACK HOLLOW RESERVE  

> PRODUCT: PREMIUM DARK ROAST BLEND  

> RETAIL PRICE: USD 18.99 / 12 OZ  

> CONSUMER FEEDBACK SUMMARY: POSITIVE  

> RATING AVERAGE: 4.8 / 5.0 (SOURCE: 3,842 REVIEWS)  

The packaging was new, unused, with residual glue on one corner where a price tag had been removed. It stood out against the low-budget offerings in the cupboard, leading Nines to deduce it had been a gift. After measuring the grounds into the filter basket, he activated the machine. It whirred to life, hot water cycling in slow, rhythmic pulses. Drips of ember liquid began to gather in the jug, growing steadily in volume. Satisfied, the android turned away, heading off to retrieve a mug from Reed’s plentiful stock.

The selected mug was set aside, its entourage of asymmetrical grins beaming approvingly at the coffee. The RK shared in the appreciation as warm wisps of steam began to fill the air around him, meeting his olfactory sensors with a pleasant, smoky scent.

It drifted beyond the confines of the room into the neighbouring living space. As though drawn to the aroma by some imperceptible, magnetic pull, Reed finally emerged from hiding. With a steady creak of the door and the hurried thud of footsteps, the man crossed the tiny apartment, arriving back in the kitchen just in time. The brew had finished, and Nines had started to prepare his drink.

"...What part of 'don't touch anything' did you not understand?" The question was caught between a hiss and a sigh, pushed through gritted teeth. It was the sort of response comparable to a parent uncovering their child’s botched attempt at breakfast.

Nines ignored this, having already traversed past the point of no return, and reasoning that there was little else that could make his partner more upset. "I realise that my intrusion today was somewhat callous…” He held up the beverage, extended towards Reed in a cordial offering. The man’s spite was redirected to the cheerfully decorated mug, as though the blotched faces had betrayed him personally. 

“Given your fondness for caffeinated drinks, I thought making one might show appreciation. For the fact that you didn't turn me away." 

The words had barely escaped his lips before Reed began to pick them apart. 

"Last week, you would have fed me to lions if it got you a lead—and now you're making me coffee.” He seemed to take pride in the unwavering cynicism. Eyebrow raised, arms folded over the faded graphics of his t-shirt. “Either you’re Antisocial Asshole protocol is on the blink, or Connor’s been giving you more kiss-ass lessons." 

The android stiffened, his grip on the handle tightening, threatening to shatter the fragile ceramic. His attention darted back to his internal communication network—and the message that remained unanswered. Of course, the detective could not know , nor have any concrete evidence, that he had sought guidance from his predecessor. He was simply taunting him, based on a spiteful, albeit accurate, assumption. 

In response, the android offered a half-truth. Not denying the hypothesis, but withholding the satisfaction that could be drawn from confirming it outright, "...While I was given enhanced abilities in deduction and combat, RK800 has a more sophisticated social protocol. I’ve made it clear to him that I'm not interested in significantly altering my behaviour. Nevertheless, in the past, he has provided guidance on how I may improve my working relationships." 

Reed scoffed, unsatisfied with the response. He appeared keen to press for details, but as his flared nostrils caught the pleasing earthiness emanating from the mug, he stalled. 

He tilted his head, registering the difference from his usual blend—a curiosity which rolled organically into temptation. Ultimately, he gave in to primal urges and reached out to seize the drink.

Acknowledging the gesture of goodwill and stepping back from their argument, he did so with the stipulation that he would have the last word:

"Provided this coffee doesn't taste like shit, you can tell him it's working."

Their ensuing conversation was moved to the table. Reed sat opposite him, elbows propped casually on the table, the lax weight of his head supported by an open palm. He gestured loosely with his free hand, demanding the android proceed with his findings before he changed his mind. 

"Okay, tin can, you've kept me in suspense long enough—so, what is this massive breakthrough that couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?" 

A snide retort gnawed at Nines’ lips, informing his partner that he would have relayed this ‘breakthrough’ significantly faster, had he not taken so long dressing. He bit his tongue, instead pulling a stack of neatly folded papers from his jacket pocket. They contained an overview of screenshots from ‘The Fleshbound Brotherhood’ forum—prepared in a physical format, for ease of review by his partner.

“Do you recall when I scanned Mr Scott's phone? Back at the electronics store?" He set the sheets on the table, smoothing them out courteously.

"I remember you caught him watching porn.” 

His fingers stilled as the android cast a withering look at his partner. Of course, this would be the ‘pivotal intelligence’ Reed retained from their visit.

"I wouldn't have said the material constituted pornography. It appeared to be a compilation of women in bikinis.” Refusing to entertain further semantics, he firmly tapped the sheets, ensuring the discussion did not veer off course. “This was not the only thing I discovered…my scan revealed Mr Scott had been engaging in several suspicious or troubling online activities. After further research, I have collated the following examples."  Reed perked up from his semi-reclined position. Curiosity piqued, he reached across the table, retrieving the first of the papers. As he scanned the contents, a perplexed knot formed in his brow, and the intrigued spark in his eyes started to fizzle away, returning to dull indifference. 

"...Look…I'm not saying this shit is nice, but it isn't that bad, really.” He abandoned the printout in favour of blowing on the rim of the cup. Cutting through the steam with restless puffs, eager to take a sip of the beverage. “Besides, I don’t really see what it's got to do with the case."  Nines, ascertaining there was little he could communicate that would be achieved more effectively than a visual representation, solemnly directed back to the evidence. 

"Turn the page."  There was something in his tone that enraptured his partner. Perhaps it was the graveness, the stern urgency that spoke to all manner of grim truths, that made Reed understand just how serious this was. 

There was no more fidgeting or snide comebacks, as suddenly, he had the man's undivided attention. The coffee was abandoned in favour of studying the android and his disconcertingly blank expression.

Sightlessly, Reed turned the page, only looking away as his head lowered to inspect it. 

It was as though he had been petrified. Locking sights with a creature of ancient European folklore. He was bright, alert, but devoid of any joy or pleasure. There was nothing but grave dissonance, as though his mind were struggling to process the vicious brutality on display, whilst simultaneously understanding that the victims he was examining were not human .

Despite this, Nines saw something —a glimpse —beyond detached intrigue. A genuine condolence, sadness, as he stared at their mangled bodies. Lifeless faces, blotched with tears. As though he could… see . 

See them. Their pain, fear. Unable to wave it away or coldly deny it. 

The revelation passed as soon as it emerged. He looked away, swallowing thickly before stabbing his finger against a specific item of interest. "This one is ours—the MJ100.” 

"They're all ours, Detective."

Nines allowed Reed a moment to process the gravity of this. Watching as he shuddered, sucking air sharply through his teeth, before nodding in numb understanding, prompting the android to continue.

"The HR400 is featured too, as well as all other crimes that could be linked with our investigation.” 

He looked down at the page, not that he needed to. The images were already burned permanently into his processor—an unsightly fissure, carved seamlessly into existing formations. 

“This is more than just an innocuous hate forum—it is an organised group, operating outside of Detroit. Most, if not all, of these pictures depict locally based crimes. There are also discussions alluding to local meet-ups and events." 

With reluctance, Reed followed his gaze. Scanning the evidence repeatedly before shaking his head in surrender. "I don't see anything like that…"

“It seems posts are routinely deleted. No doubt for security reasons. Some crucial details remain, however. Look closer—"

Under the RK900’s direction, their focus was pulled to a discussion thread. The one that had most avidly captured his attention, upon initially discovering the forum:

> bacon at cedars + me. organic and synth.

It didn't take long for Reed to understand. As he did, his jaw hardened in scarcely repressed fury.

>> What did they want?

“Tlla ha JSOX. ZS J…” 

He muttered the sequence under his breath a number of times. Labouring on each letter, curling them against his tongue as though reciting a ritualistic chant. He was exhausting a mental checklist of possible interpretations.

Nines, having already decrypted the sequence before arriving, spared him the effort. "Meet at CLHQ. SL C—It is a code within a code. Arrangements to meet in person." 

" Son of a bitch ” The detective gripped the sides of the page, pressing them together until the paper had been reduced to a crumpled wad. "Were you able to find any private chat logs? Or trace where these messages came from?" 

"Unfortunately, no. The forum operates on an anonymous basis. Private chats are unavailable, and while usernames can be edited, most appear procedurally generated. 

Whoever this individual is, they have been careful to cover their tracks. I was unable to pinpoint their location." 

"That fucker Mikey has a lot to answer for. I say we head back there and beat it out of him." 

Nines hummed, indulging in the cathartic mental projections this inspired. This was before logic won out, and he offered a more practical suggestion. 

"Tempting as that may be, I suggest we discuss matters with Captain Fowler first. Mr Scott is hiding something, and I believe a private interrogation may prove invaluable." 

"Gotta admit Nines, you didn't disappoint. This is a solid lead.”

The RK felt a small swell of pride at this. It was the most receptive his partner had proven in their investigation thus far. All the more astonishing, given his compromised state. 

He grew optimistic that this might allow for an ongoing dialogue. While he had discerned the purpose of communication between Scott and his affiliate, specifics remained undiscussed. Namely, the location represented by ‘CLHQ. SL C’ and how uncovering it might be supported by their existing findings. 

The android had a theory, one that he hoped to run by his partner—

He never got a chance, however, as the human abruptly tensed. He leaned forward, clutching his stomach with a prolonged whine. 

It seemed the painkillers were not reacting well to the already rampant volatility in his gut. The force of his moans appeared to dislodge remnants of his poor decisions, propelled unceremoniously up the length of his oesophagus. He attempted to swallow it back, to push through the nausea, but to little avail. His words became laboured and clipped, sentences failing to form.

“Nice—uh—”

His eyes filled with glum resignation. Acceptance of the inevitable, as he hurriedly lurched to his feet, chair screeching in shared urgency. 

"—I'm gonna hurl." 

With the climax to the man's nausea drawing increasingly near—and a renewed, more immediate risk that Nines might bear witness to the consequences, he stood as well.

Further discussion would have to wait. During the interim, he would deliberate on the best approach to their meeting with Captain Fowler and forward it in a brief for Reed's consideration. One that he hoped the man would review after he had expelled the contents of his stomach.

"I'll see myself out.” He smoothed the creases in his jacket, preparing to leave the home in a decidedly more dignified manner than he had entered it. “Thank you for your time, Detective—I trust you will be well enough to join me tomorrow." He received no response, as in a blur of movement, Reed was gone. Charging towards his bathroom, all but slinging himself across the couch that dared impede his passage. Having reached his destination, miraculously uninjured, he slammed the door behind him.  

[theladydrgn]

Finding Love at the Orchards Edge

New fic from @sylwritesstuff and I!

Omegaverse, set in the 1990s, low-angst, wolf shenanigans 🫶

Alpha children have plenty of options when it comes to how to spend their summers - Schools and Academies and Programmes all designed around turning them into strong little leaders like they ought to be. Crowley, however, finds the lack of options for omega children to be particularly unfair. Luckily he has the means (and the time, now that he's no longer beholden to a Particular Dead Weight) to change those lack of options on his own. Well, also with help from a good friend. What he doesn't expect is the love he finds along the way.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63959977/chapters/164058118

[adrianasunderworld]

TwstxStardew Valley au!

Yuu inherited the Ramshackle farm from their grandfather. It's located in the little town of Night Raven in the Valley of Sages. Shortly after moving in, they find a cat called Grim. Now it's up to Yuu to restore the farm and town to it's former glory. All the characters are the townsfolk, all the staff are the ones that run the local businesses, and Crowley is the mayor. And all the students are the marriage candidates.

Sam runs the general store, but unlike Pierre he's pretty cool. Vargas is the blacksmith. Trien is the librarian, and his cat hangs out amongst the shelves. Crewel I was thinking we have a new business that is the local clothing store where you can buy the bag upgrade from him and instead of the sewing machine being in Emily's house, it's in the shop. So all that stuff would be in one place.

Kalim as the resident animal lover I can see being the one that sells you your farm animals. Maybe his business is a branch of his parents much larger business that he runs and Jamil is his employee.

I feel like it goes without saying that Idia is the Sebastian here. He's the freelance programmer living in his parents basement, and Ortho Is his kid brother you see running around town that always tells Yuu about how cool his brother actually is.

Silver lives with his veteran dad in their little cottage in the woods outside your farm, they like living off the land out there. I can also see Lilia and Baul as the ones that run the adventurers guild. Maybe the Zigvolt family dental clinic is also in town and Sebek works there. And in that same vein, maybe Mrs. Rosehearts is the town doctor and her son, Riddle, is her assistant. She's planned everything out that Riddle will become a doctor like her and take over the clinic one day.

Epel is still a farm boy here, it feels right, he's in his element in this au. The Felmiers run an orchard on the opposite side of town. His granny used to know your grandpa, and maybe Farmer Yuu can buy fruit tree saplings from them.And of course get a good price on the apple ones.

Deuce is the former town delinquent that lives with his single mom. He's doing his best to turn their life around, he grew out of his old ways and wants to do better. I can see his heart events being about people assuming he's going to cause trouble because of his old habits and Deuce having to prove he's not that little teenage punk anymore. And instead of Idia/Sebastian, Deuce is the one that takes you on the motorcycle date if you romance him.

Mostro Lounge is the equivalent of the Stardrop Saloon, and Azul is th owner with the tweels working for him.

Malleus I can see being the one that lives in the wizard tower in the woods outside your farm. He's studied magic all his life because it's all he's ever known. But he wants very badly to interact with the town and the villagers, but everyone tends to stay away. The only exceptions being Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. That is until Yuu moves in and discovers his tower, and once Malleus helps them understand the Juiminos in the community center, they become better friends.

@mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind

[world-of-wales]

THE PRINCE DIARIES ♔

25 APRIL 2024 || WEST MIDLANDS (2/3) : WOODGATE VALLEY URBAN FARM

The Prince of Wales visited Woodgate Valley Urban Farm, a city farm dedicated to supportingchildren and young people struggling to access education and those experiencing mental health challenges. Woodgate Valley Urban Farm runs a range therapeutic programmes for children involving children and nature. Based on a six-acre site of farm, woodlands and orchards, it is home to a variety of animals including Grey Face Dartmoor Sheep. Participants are provided one-to-one support whilst on-site, and results have shown that children regularly visiting the farm see a marked improvement in their mental health and wellbeing. During his visit, William met staff and volunteers and was taken on a tour of the grounds. He heard first-hand about the work they do with children and joined a group of participants in some of their regular programmed activities including taking care of animals.

[silicacid]

NEW: Satellite imagery reviewed by HRW shows that orchards, greenhouses and farmland in northern Gaza have been razed since the beginning of Israel’s ground invasion, compounding concerns of dire food insecurity and loss of livelihood.

Israel's military has said in recent weeks it has conducted military operations in the Beit Hanoun area, including in an undisclosed agricultural area, to clear tunnels and other military targets.

The laws of war prohibit attacks directed at civilians or civilian objects, indiscriminate attacks and attacks that are disproportionate in the harm they cause to civilians.  All parties to the conflict must take constant care to spare the civilian population.

In NE Gaza, north of Beit Hanoun, once-green agricultural land is now brown and desolate. Fields and orchards were first damaged during hostilities following Israel’s ground invasion in late Oct. Bulldozers carved new roads, clearing the way for Israeli military vehicles.

But since mid-November, after Israeli forces took control of the area, satellite imagery shows that orchards, fields and greenhouses have been systematically razed, leaving sand and dirt.

Farmers planted crops like citrus fruit, potatoes, dragon fruit and prickly pear in this area, some of which took years to grow, contributing to the livelihoods of Palestinians in Gaza. Some plots were razed in a day.

High resolution satellite imagery shows bulldozers were used to destroy fields and orchards. Tracks are visible, as well as mounds of earth on the edges of the former plots. Israeli forces have used armored bulldozers for years, including in the post Oct 7 offensive in Gaza.

As food systems collapse across Gaza, we are gravely concerned about the well-being of over 2 million Palestinians in Gaza who face hunger, food insecurity and loss of livelihood amid the Israeli blockade. The World Food Programme has warned of “the immediate possibility of starvation.”

Satellite imagery indicates that the razing of agricultural land continued in northern Gaza during the military pause in fighting that began on Nov 24. The Israeli military was in direct control of the area during that time, and remains so now.

Israeli forces destroyed agricultural land in Gaza in the past. HRW documented razing of fields, greenhouses and orchards by Israeli forces, including in 2004 and in 2009.

On Nov 28, the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics said Gaza is suffering at least $1.6 million daily loss in farm production. In addition to destroyed farmland, many farmers are displaced. Lack of aid + destruction of bakeries also contribute to dire food shortages.

The current crisis has further exacerbated the impact of Israel’s more than 16-year closure, which has devastated Gaza’s economy and left 80% of the population before Oct 7 reliant on aid.

Whether by deliberate razing, damage due to hostilities or the inability to irrigate or work the land, farmland across northern Gaza – which also included crops like tomatoes, cabbage and strawberries – has been drastically reduced since the start of the ground invasion.

World leaders should call on Israel to protect civilians. They should urgently act to prevent food insecurity, loss of livelihood and starvation of Palestinian men, women and children in Gaza.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

With Love & Hate Take 2 Netflix ❓❔❓❔❓❔

NETFLIX is making a second series of With Love Meghan - and have announced the surprise decision just days after the first season debuted.

The show dropped on the streaming giant on Tuesday and the Duchess of Sussex's lifestyle show was widely derided by viewers and reviewers alike.But the huge interest in the programme, which features Meghan with cameos from husband Prince Harry, has convinced bosses to give it another outing. The duchess posted on Instagram saying she's "thrilled" with the decision.

Wearing a Netflix cap she was seen grinning in a short clip on her stories, with the caption: "Lettuce romaine calm... or not(!) because I'm thrilled to share that Season 2 of 'With Love, Meghan' is coming!" Meghan Markle's new show, Meghan, With Love, was released on Netflix today The series begins with an emotional Meghan fawning over bees and honey In one episode, the Duchess of Sussex makes bacon and jokes: 'My bacon brings all the boys to the yard' She also corrects pal Mindy Kaling calling her 'Markle' - insisting her surname is 'Sussex' The Duchess goes onto share a touchy feely moment with Prince Harry, who appears briefly Meghan adds bizarre items to 'children's party bags' from Manuka honey sticks to gardening tools In one bizarre moment, Meghan gets flustered and tells guest Alice Waters 'I feel like you're watching me fall in love' while eating a turnip She also lets loose on a hike, dancing with a pal while out on a dog walk Fans slam show 'the fakest stuff ever' as they find identical recipes online

Meghan channels Princess Diana again as she rocks Northwestern jumperA TV insider said: "This may raise a few eyebrows but one thing which Netflix love is controversy - and this show certainly created alot of debate. "Many were so scathing about the eight-part series that they thought there was no way it would get another season.

"But it seems the streamer is delighted with the chatter its created on both sides of the Atlantic this week."It's not clear whether work has already started on the second series, but Netflix want it to drop later this year.

It comes after royal pros had suggested that a lot of people dislike the mum-of-two and as a result, are ‘hate watching’ her new lifestyle series.With Love, Meghan is the second Netflix collaboration for the Sussexes, who signed a lucrative multi-million pound deal with the streaming giant back in 2020.

But not only has the show been hit with a barrage of criticism and even been slammed as a ‘total con’, as well as being branded ‘over-the-top and so false’, but now, the potential of a second series appears to not look likely for the former Suits actress. It comes after the Duchess of Sussex, 43, recently renamed her lifestyle brand As Ever, switching from the name American Riviera Orchard after facing trademark issues.

Not only did Meghan’s show hit the headlines for her £130,000 ‘stealth wealth’ Netflix wardrobe, but now, the eight-episode series, which showcases her cookery skills, wrapping hacks, and harvest basket making, has been described as “is in danger of being axed”. Speaking to The Sun’s Royal Editor, Matt Wilkinson, on The Sun’s Royal Exclusive show, News.com.au Royal Correspondent Bronte Coy and The Sun’s royal photographer Arthur Edwards weighed in on the series, which was released on Tuesday and has been described as 'absolutely awful'.

Bronte said: “Looking at the context of when she and Harry signed this monster Netflix deal - which is apparently worth about £80million - but it ran for five years and at the time they signed it, it was in an era when Netflix was doing these big deals, that is no longer the case.  “There has been quite a restructure. The streaming industry looks very different now than it did back then and obviously they’ll be reviewing all of this.  

“They’ll be paying very close attention to all the money they're spending and for that reason, I think there is a very big danger, given ‘Harry & Meghan’, the show, was really the last big success the couple had with their output. “There’s a lot riding on this series, I think a lot of people will have watched it, whether they hate Meghan or they love her - the hate watching part of it as well - there’s clearly interest, even though a lot of people have no admiration for her.

“But at the same time, that won’t carry through for a season two. The hate watching element would be season one.”There’s a lot riding on this series, I think a lot of people will have watched it, whether they hate Meghan or they love her - the hate watching part of it as well - there’s clearly interest, even though a lot of people have no admiration for her.

“But at the same time, that won’t carry through for a season two. The hate watching element would be season one.”But she doesn't think interest will continue for a season twoCredit: Netflix She added: “Harry and Meghan need to keep these deals going, they have a very expensive lifestyle, particularly with security and everything. 

“I think it is in danger of being axed or significantly reduced.” Not only this, but Arthur explained: “Eventually [Harry and Meghan] are going to run out of ideas and people are not going to be interested. People will lose interest. “She seems to be attracting publicity. She gave it her best shot but it just wasn’t good enough.”

'The whole thing was false' Throughout the series, Meghan shared a variety of recipes, including a cooked breakfast, skillet spaghetti and a honey and lemon cake. She also demonstrated her method for making tea by steeping bags in cold water under the sun for two to three hours, using "nice silk bags, lots of leaf tea, and just let it steep with the warmth of the sun." And whilst Matt recognised, “With Love, Meghan has been roasted, absolutely savaged by TV critics, Arthur chimed in: “I just think it was completely over-the-top.” Clearly not impressed, the iconic photographer added: “Everything about it was false. “The whole thing was false - it wasn't even her house, it was somebody else's house.” Meanwhile, Arthur slammed the 33-minute episodes and remarked: “If a play on Broadway got those reviews, it would close. “It would close in a week, there’d be no second shows. Please God there’s not another show.”

[pure-ablution]

hi kitty ❤️ do you have any female figures/role models that you look up to and try to emulate their classiness, work ethic, beauty etc.

right now my role model is amal clooney and i think she’s basically everything that i want to embody: regal, wickedly smart and has an incredible work ethic and an activist. i just dont know how to plan my steps to get there. do you have any tips?

for the activist part, i’m currently studying in cs and i’m not sure if i want to continue my postgrad by working in an office. lately, i’ve been deconstructing on what ideas have been placed on me vs what i actually truly want. and i’ve come to a realisation that i’d rather do something meaningful that can change people’s livelihoods like working for nonprofits, institutionalise better public policies, doing meaningful research. i’m just not sure how to combine that with tech.

I’ve written a little about my own role models here, and I maintain that it’s very important to have many different role models and ideals, and pick from many different trees in many different orchards, in order not to lose your sense of self. Amal Clooney is a wonderfully elegant, intelligent, formidable lady, and I admire her a great deal; she’s not one of my biggest workwear inspirations for nothing, after all. I also think it’s important to remember that the qualities we admire in women like her are rarely innate; they’re cultivated, daily, over years of private decisions about how to speak, how to dress, how to work, how to love, how to persist. Having a role model doesn’t mean superficially imitating how she acts in the contexts in which you witness her, but rather, forming the habits that produce women like her in the first place.

Now, I am probably the very worst person to ask about both tech and activism. I hold my hands up completely here—I can barely manage to open my own emails, let alone code a programme, and I’ve already written at length about how I’m very much not an activist by nature. That said, it is quite a simple thing to think about your strengths, interests, and aspirations, and plan out a little career trajectory for yourself, in any field. I’ve written a little bit about that here already. For you, I might (gingerly—this is really not my area) recommend looking to fellowships or internships at NGOs, think tanks, or UN-affiliated initiatives with a digital arm, and following the work of those currently at the intersection of policy and technology (e.g. Marietje Schaake).

This is all to say, in a nutshell: you don’t need to imitate Amal Clooney to be like her. You need only to become, fully, the most collected and courageous version of yourself.

[pillarboxed]

The Fable (2024) Review

Warning: Full spoilers ahead

Director: Raam Reddy

Runtime: 119 minutes

Language(s): Hindi, English, and Pahari audio; English subtitles

Certification: PG (Singapore)

My invite to the screening of The Fable at the 35th Singapore International Film Festival. Director Raam Reddy and lead actor Manoj Bajpayee were in attendance.

“How much knowledge do you need to have to engage with something in a meaningful way?” I was reminded of this question posed by the video essay Reading Binging Benning (2018) while writing my review of The Fable (2024). The video essayists were commissioned by the International Film Festival Rotterdam to introduce a screening of James Benning’s Readers (2017)—but they had no access to the film. They had two stills, detailed information about the film, and access to some of Benning’s other works, but these don’t replace the film itself.

My situation with The Fable isn’t as drastic as these video essayists’, since I actually did watch it. There was even a pre-screening introduction from the director himself, who expressed an intention behind the film: he wanted the audience to undergo a “spiritual” experience.

I did not have this experience.

The Fable has elements that sound like the film could be spiritual. It is slow-paced. It features a group of ascetic people. They chant in unison. One of them meets with the protagonist’s daughter, Vanya (Hiral Sidhu), and they hum together, seeming to have a quasi-telepathic conversation. The protagonist’s wife, Nandini (Priyanka Bose), performs songs about spiritual concepts.

In my research for this review, I discovered that the first song Nandini sings is “Shivoham”, also known as “Nirvana Shatakam”. I frequently found the composition being attributed to the Hindu philosopher Adi Shankara. I didn’t manage to find out what the second composition is, but from what I remember, Nandini sings about a place of seemingly peaceful nothingness.

Maybe the film connects better with Hindu audiences, or at least, with those who are quite familiar with Hinduism, unlike me. However, I feel that it should still be able to resonate. I’m not that knowledgeable regarding Shintoism or Buddhism either, yet I was in awe at Princess Mononoke (1997). Earlier this year, I rewatched the Studio Ghibli film, intending to take mental notes at the same time. It wasn’t long before I forgot all about taking notes. Princess Mononoke entranced me. On the other hand, The Fable was generally boring.

No, a film being boring doesn’t necessarily make it bad. For example, I’d describe Forgotten Planets (2018) as “boring”. Something about it made me want to rewatch it, though, which I did less than a month later. (Granted, there was also the motivation that I had easy access to the film at the time, something which was likely to change in the future.) I think what I liked about Forgotten Planets was its calming mood. Even though neither of its two protagonists are content with the state of things, it’s still a very slice-of-life story without much tension.

The Fable, however, isn’t a pleasantly boring film. It maintains its tension for too long, and for too long at the same level of intensity. The tension mainly comes from the mystery of who is burning the protagonist’s orchards and why. This premise sounds dramatic, but the problem is that it rarely feels like anything is at stake for Dev (Manoj Bajpayee).

Via SGIFF.com

The programme guide of the 38th Leeds International Film Festival (LIFF) calls The Fable a “political allegory”.

I can see that the film touches on the themes of colonialism and class. At the beginning, a narrator from the future tells us that it was the British who gave the orchards to Dev’s family. The British gave them to his family as a reward. At the end, the narrator says that Dev and his family suddenly disappeared one day but not without a letter. In the letter, Dev declares his land returned to the villagers who originally owned it and that he gives the family residence to his former orchard manager, Mohan (Deepak Dobriyal), who we discover is the narrator.

Where did Dev and his family go? The filmmakes it quite obvious that they are the fairies in the…well, fable that the wife of an orchard worker tells her young son. “It’s about a family who looked just like us,” the woman says. “Even they thought they were like everyone else. But the truth was, they were special souls.” She goes on to say that these “special souls” are actually fairies who had come to earth and forgotten where they came from.

At the start of The Fable, Dev is shown to have a hobby of designing and building wings that let him fly around. At the end, we catch a glimpse of winged figures soaring through the clouds and a pair of his engineered wings attached to a stake in the woods, fully unfurled.

LIFF describes the film as not only a “political allegory” but an “incisive” one.

I can’t see the allegory.

What was the point of making Dev and his family fairies? Having the land returned to their original inhabitants seems to display an anti-colonialist sentiment, but this is undermined by implying that the “special souls” in this story are the characters who have ties to the colonisers.

As a Muslim, I connect to the idea that there is a better world beyond this earth. I believe that even if someone’s life appears to be full of hardship and pain, if they endure it patiently and correctly (i.e. according to God’s commands), then they will attain Paradise in the hereafter. Leaving this world would be liberating for them.

I didn’t feel any sense of liberation when Dev and his family leave earth. Of course, having your land mysteriously burn away before you would be terrifying for anybody. The fire even reaches the plants before the family’s doorstep. But when compared to the tribulations of their employees, those that Dev and his family experience don’t feel particularly heavy.

During the mysterious fires, the patwari (also known as a village accountant) continuously tries to impress wealthy landowner Dev by “assisting” in the investigation, including getting police officers to make arrests. After a huge fire on a mountainside, the patwari brings the police and tells them to make five arrests no matter what. So, without any sufficient evidence, the police arrest five orchard workers who risked their lives to put out the raging fire. Who will assist the villagers? Dev eventually stops the police from taking the arrestees away—but he appears to do this reluctantly. Later, he lays off all his staff.

After all that has happened, is it really a liberation for Dev and his family to fly away to their fairy home?

What’s the allegory?

In Reading Binging Benning, Kevin B. Lee talks about his experience watching his first Benning film, RR (2007). Lee says, “The whole time, my head is spinning, trying to figure out, ‘Is there something in front of me that I’m just not seeing?’ I was facing an image that wasn’t telling me how to read it.”

Maybe I don’t know enough about the history or cultures of India to appreciate the film. But how much do I need to know? How much knowledge is fair to assume the audience has? It sounds strange, but The Fable could probably do with more exposition.

Rating: 1.5/5

Thank you to SGIFF for the Cinephile Pass and for the invite to the Special Presentation of The Fable.

[no-passaran]

Human Rights Watch: The Israeli government is using starvation of civilians as a weapon of war in Gaza. This is a war crime.

Transcription of the video: The Israeli government is using starvation of civilians as a weapon of war in Gaza. This is a war crime. The Israeli authorities have deliberately blocked the delivery of food, water and fuel while wilfully obstructing the entry of aid. Israeli forces have apparently deliberately destroyed orchards, greenhouses and farmland in northern Gaza. Israeli officials, including Defense Minister Yoav Gallant, have expressed an intent to starve civilians as a method of warfare. These statements are reflected in Israeli military operations. The UN World Food Programme reported that 9 out of 10 households in northern Gaza had spent at least one full day and night without food. The international community should call on the Israeli government to stop the collective punishment of civilians and the use of starvation as a weapon of war.

When you see the numbers of the thousands of Palestinians killed by Israel, remember they don't include the victims of starvation and disease caused by Israel because they did not die as a result of weapons.

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Interview with narrator Rebecca Ferguson

Q. What made you want to be part of this series?

I was brought up having a magical connection to nature.  When later introduced to the world of BBC wildlife programmes it brought back so much nostalgia.  Being asked to be part of this series therefore was a huge honour for me.

Q. Tell us a bit about growing up in Scandinavia.

When I was growing up, I always wanted to go exploring in the woods and become one of my favourite childhoods characters Ronja from stories by Astrid Lindgren. She was a true representation of Swedish and Scandinavian nature. I also loved to do another tradition of picking wild strawberries and threading them through strains of straw.

Q. Tell us about your personal passion for Scandinavia

It’s Raw and wild. It’s Pinecones, mushroom picking, cold, mythical mysterious.  So many tales and stories come from the world of Scandinavia. 

Q. Describe any personal experiences you’ve had with wildlife in Scandinavia

It’s hard not to have connections with nature.  For me it’s about feeling connected to it and being a part of it daily.  I was brought up in Stockholm then moved to the south of Sweden to a remote fishing village, meaning I got to explore such drastic difference in environments and temperatures.

Q. Were there any standout or memorable sequences in the series for you?

Being a part of the whole story and seeing things that I would have never got the opportunity to see was such a treat. It brings me as close to it as possible.  It’s so unusual to see it all first-hand and I got to be part of it adding my narrative which was magical. As an ocean lover, I particularly enjoyed the reproductive process of the synchronised star fish and watching the sea cucumbers feed on the algae and plankton from the seabeds. 

Q. Did you learn anything new about Scandinavia that you didn’t know before narrating the series? 

Yes! I couldn’t believe that they are still preserving fish the same way we did in the Viking times! It was fascinating to see that process. 

Q. What do you believe is so captivating about this region?

The Landscape is the main characteristic, it’s sharp and harsh and the animals have had to learn to shape to their environment.  The extreme difference between the North of Sweden with its angular landscapes to the south of Sweden with its rolling hillsides, orchards and apple trees.

Q. Do you have a favourite species from the series and why?

Yes! The White-Tailed Sea Eagle is my favourite species from the series. They are so majestic flying through the air.  Their hunting skills of catching the fish is like watching a thrilling chase scene from a movie! It’s so highly skilled and chaotic at the same time.

Q. What do you hope viewers will take away from watching Wild Scandinavia?

I hope that they it will Learn about new environments and that it opens up their eyes to the beauty of this region.  How different it is. Why it’s so different. How the people have had to adapt to the environment.  The extremes of the seasonal weather and landscapes.  I hope it makes people want to visit and to nurture and to care for our world even more.

Interview with Series Producer, Tuppence Stone

Q. What do you think Rebecca Ferguson brings to the series, as the narrator?

We were very keen to have such a strong female role model to voice Wild Scandinavia. With her roles in Mission Impossible and Dune, it is great to collaborate with such an international star. Rebecca is Anglo Swedish, so was a perfect choice – with her intimate knowledge of Scandinavia and fluent Swedish the mythology and names included in the script felt so natural when she delivered them. She added an important authenticity to the series, building on our decision to work with the brilliant Icelandic composer – Biggi Hilmars, so that our views feel totally immersed in the Scandinavia wilderness.

[cassolotl]

Trees are important (some UK petitions)

I've just read an upsetting article about some ancient trees being cut down. 🌳 So here's some UK petitions about trees and the environment:

🌳 "Create a national climate change holiday to encourage the planting of trees" 📈 Tracking graph // 🖋️ Sign here

🌳 "Fund a national programme to provide allotments and access to orchards for all" 📈 Tracking graph // 🖋️ Sign here

🌳 "Make felling any tree 150 years or older a criminal offence" 📈 Tracking graph // 🖋️ Sign here

You can sign if:

You live in the UK (regardless of whether you're a citizen)

You're a UK citizen (regardless of where you currently live)

[anniekoh]

ecological harms in palestine

Feminist Bird Club and Birds of Gaza have been holding virtual and emotional spaces for grief and collective action.

Gaza's Trees Disappear, Showing a Humanitarian Crisis (March 2024, Belling Cat):

Satellite imagery from March 9, when compared with imagery from October 15, shows that the area within this corridor has been heavily deforested with more than roughly 4,300 acres of land cleared of trees and other plant life.

On February 29, the Union of Gaza Strip Municipalities issued a statement saying that Gaza Strip communities had not received fuel deliveries since October, a fact that was causing a cascading effect across all sectors of society and leading to “great suffering.” These acute fuel shortages have led civilians to cut down trees in order to start fires for cooking or warmth. In a food security report from December 2023, the World Food Programme stated that 70 percent of internally displaced people (IDPs) in southern Gaza burn firewood for fuel and 13 percent waste products.

Bellingcat’s analysis of satellite imagery from Gaza, conducted with our partners at Scripps News, shows clear signs of the mass removal of trees which intensified in the winter months. These areas include cemeteries, parks and a university campus.

Importantly, satellite imagery shows that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) have removed significant numbers of trees for stated military purposes, though more often in orchards and farmland. These cases can often be distinguished by the presence of vehicle tracks; the relative absence of vehicle tracks when done by Palestinian civilians is a tell-tale sign of the fuel shortages which drive them to such desperate measures.

Israel’s Campaign Against Palestinian Olive Trees (March 2023, Yale Review of International Studies)

Remarkably, olive trees contribute to 14% of Palestine’s economy.1 Since agriculture is the foundation of Palestinian exports, the production of these goods provides the population with the sustenance and support it needs. Family-owned farms carry the responsibility for cultivating the trees and pressing the thousands of olives yearly for exportation. With the already high unemployment rate, it’s crucial to maintain these farms as they are the primary source of income for about 800,000 Palestinian families.2 Beyond the monetary value, olive trees have become symbolic of Palestinians attachment to their land. The trees are drought resistant and grow under harsh conditions. Many olive trees date to centuries prior to the Israeli occupation

...

In August 2021 alone, more than 9,000 have been removed, and on February 9th2020, 50 olive trees were forcefully uprooted and destroyed in the occupied West Bank region of Salfit.4 These unprecedented attacks are mainly due to the ongoing expansion of settlements in the West Bank, which are encroaching on the livelihood of Palestinian families.

Birders of the West Bank PS Standard (Aug 2018):

https://psmag.com/environment/birders-of-the-west-bank

[beardedmrbean]

1. Belgium warned that fundamental rights 'cannot be taken for granted'

Just days before the elections, the Federal Institute for Human Rights (FIHR) has issued a stark warning that fundamental rights and basic democratic principles are under threat in Belgium. Read more.

2. What went down at the European Commission Presidential debate

Although physically absent from the room, the far-right was the centre of attention at the "Eurovision" debate yesterday between politicians vying for the top job of European Commission President. Read more.

3. What to do in Brussels this weekend: 24 - 26 May

Warmer weather has finally arrived in Belgium, and what better way to celebrate than with a weekend packed with jazz, festivals, Cuban culture and Belgium's biggest participative sporting event? Read more.

4. N-VA will 'absolutely not' form a government with Vlaams Belang, says De Wever

The Flemish rightwing N-VA will not form a government with the far-right Vlaams Belang, party leader Bart De Wever said in a Flemish television programme – marking the first time De Wever unequivocally refused any collaboration. Read more.

5. Municipalities with highest risk of income poverty found in Brussels

The Brussels-Capital Region is home to four of the five municipalities where the risk of income poverty is highest. Read more.

6. Brussels recognises comic strips as intangible cultural heritage

After speculoos, nightlife, the procession of the Ommegang or the tradition of rod puppets, the 'comic strip art’ will now be included in the intangible cultural heritage of the Brussels-Capital Region. Read more.

7. Weekend break: Along to Tongeren

The oldest city in Belgium, Tongeren has Roman relics, the largest antique market in the Benelux and haute gastronomy that uses produce from surrounding vineyards, orchards and farms. Read more.

[news-3-9]

"[...] this week at the Eden Project in Cornwall, where apples grown in orchards at the attraction have been harvested, pressed, cooked and served to visitors as part of a programme supporting young people who are not in education, employment or training."

"The participants are enrolled on the Compass project, a partnership led by Cornwall council, and part-funded by the European Social Fund. It aims to support 1,800 young people aged 15-24 to find their way into education, employment or training throughout Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly."

[kennyleownews-sg]

Fatburger Closes In S’pore As Operator Winds Down, Other Brands Buttrmilk & 800 Degrees Also Shutter

Fatburger Closes Down Without Prior Notice, Members Can Get Refund For Unused Credits

While it seems like a restaurant or hawker stall in Singapore closes down almost every week, fast-food chains aren’t immune to the vagaries of business either.

Fatburger & Buffalos has gone the way of Wendy’s, Mom’s Touch and Taco Bell by closing down for good in Singapore.

This comes as their operator, Deelish Brands, also winds down their operations.

As a result, other brands under the franchise management company like Buttrmilk and 800 Degrees have also shuttered.

Deelish Brands conducting ‘orderly’ winding down

Deelish Brands will be winding down “on an orderly basis”, their Chief Executive Officer Mohamed “Moe” Ibrahim told The Straits Times (ST).

This is to benefit all stakeholders, he added.

Deelish ran more than 10 outlets across Singapore, including Fatburger outlets in malls like Orchard Cineleisure and The Star Vista.

According to an Instagram post, the Cineleisure outlet was open as recently as 2 Aug, while the Star Vista one was still operating on 6 Aug.

Fatburger’s social media accounts on Facebook and Instagram are now defunct. Their website, on the other hand, now shows a message declaring that it has become a “private site”.

They also ran 800° Woodfired Kitchen, a pizzeria that specialised in classic Neapolitan pizza baked in an 800°F wood-fired oven.

In 2021, Deelish opened Blimpie, which offered American-style submarine sandwiches.

Sadly, these three brands have also gone belly-up together with Fatburger as a result of Deelish’s winding down.

Members left surprised as Fatburger closes down

The loss might be most keenly felt at KINEX mall in Paya Lebar, where all the brands could be found under one roof.

A frequent patron of the outlets told ST that he was “surprised” when he discovered them all closed without prior notice.

As he’s a member of their rewards programme, which offered up to 20% cashback and exclusive vouchers, that meant he was left high and dry as all of Deelish’s outlets across Singapore had shut down.

Mr Moe Ibrahim said that only a “handful of people” still held credits from the programme, and they amounted to a few hundred dollars.

He maintained that customers with leftover credits can contact them via their WhatsApp hotline at 8892 1050.

They’ll receive refunds for any cash top-ups that are unused.

Deelish aimed to have over 20 outlets in 2023

The closures are a stunning reversal for Deelish Brands, especially since less than a year ago they were feted as one of Singapore’s Fastest Moving Companies by SME100, according to a media release from the company on PRWeb.

In November 2022, they secured S$2 million in funding to open more outlets. They targeted to have more than 20 by this year.

Mr Moe Ibrahim said at the time that the company aimed to be “the top choice for trendy halal food in Singapore”.

Deelish’s accounts on Facebook, Instagram, X, LinkedIn and TikTok have since been deactivated.