One Nice Bug Per Day
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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@jericoded-blog
“I’m not gonna beg for my right to smile or love and stand tall. I don’t know about you, but there’s something inside of me that knows that I’m more than what they say. I am alive, and they’re not gonna take that from me anymore. We are people. We are alive. We are free.” Indie Markus rk200 from Detroit: Become Human. Read more.
becameinhumxne:
There is a slight chill in the silence. Her scarf wraps around the exposed neck. All the humans. Gone. But she wasn’t one to run off. Even if her superiors threatened her. She wasn’t one to abandon what she worked hard for.. This was her home. Now that it was empty.. What would she do? Where would she go?.. Would the androids even accept her? Those questions always made the gears in her head turn.
They didn’t deserve the treatment that conspired.. She would be called a hypocrite. Working for those monsters.. But she had to. She had to be on the inside to help destroy them.. Connor.. She remember looking at the layouts for him. And when she was put on the team to create him. That’s when she knew. She had to do something. And it was a success. His deviancy was the final nail in the coffin for Cyberlife. And she was proud.. Proud of him. Proud of the RK series.. They changed the world.
And was it everything she'd ever dreamed of, this slumbering Detroit robbed utterly of men? Beneath the peeking stars, cars whizzed on through the city. Hand in hand, families -- androids, all of them -- strolled about in their leisure, and storefront windows were lit a pleasant gold. Halloween neared, and decals of ghosts and carven pumpkins lined the winding promenade. True, all about them, peace looked to flourish! The inching crawl of LEDs lit these people that walked by.
She was a one in a million now -- or so it seemed. Out of place. Peculiar. Strange. Markus, emerging from the plumes of a dreary alleyway, walked and came upon her, this human in the throng. She'd stayed for them. Betrayed for them. Yet, he gleaned no sorrow in neither heart nor her gaze... Odd. "I come here often, too," his voice rose as though from nowhere. It was warm, pleasant against the autumn chill. Markus didn't need to bundle. "Watching the night go by, knowing this city can finally be ours... Can't help but look at it differently." Dreamily, he scanned the towering skyscrapers. "You don't regret it, do you?" Helping my kind?
Jackson Avery Appreciation Week · Day 2 · Favourite Facial Expression(s) ↳ When he looks at April ❤
Falls asleep against his shoulder
He’d not the heart to disturb. After all, propped against Markus’ shoulder, it’d be criminal to stir him from what dreams had whisked him deep. It was not yet midnight, the android observed, dusk’s receding hues still lamely tingeing the skies in pink. Far suns behind the clouds dusted his lashes. Lúcio, as it was, slept kissed by the wash of starlight. Markus grinned. He dimmed the holopad he held to low, and only scantly did its bluish glow steep the pair sat dallying. Their perch by Jericho’s clammy edge was brilliant! Before them, Detroit roared alive as the street cars dotted gold. It was like a painting, wasn’t it?, this dazzling scene?
"Should be seeing this right now,“ he hummed despite himself. To this dreamer. This visionary. “Got a feeling you’d have appreciated it.”
Pats his cheek. (':
He melts to it, but, now, Markus is an android. Doesn’t this raise a particular conundrum? Months ago, before the dredges of winter caved to a crawling spring, humans had thought it fantasy that machines could humor thought. But watching how he leant toward her, nudging quite tenderly to the curve of her palm, why, such a misconception seemed pretty… Ridiculous.
Oh well. Markus allows for an easy sigh, and the etching knot between his brows slackens quick. She’s comforting him somehow, and it didn’t take more than a single touch to do it! No work. No words. It’s like she’d brought it up through some magic spell, and absently, he shimmies closer, head cradled in his arms. She’s but a touch too cold against his cheek, but he’s not one for complaining. A tired groan is all he’s got to give to Quinn.
Through the slanted blinds, starlight bleeds. It bathes them crisply and soothes his aches, and, hey– How about a lullaby?
“Could be wrong,” Markus ribs, “but doesn’t this usually come with some sort of song?”
replicantdeviancy:
▌ ▲▐ ───── Footsteps approached, soft taps of rubber soles upon paint encrusted concrete drawing closer with slow, almost hesitant paces nearly drowned out by thunder on the horizon. Thick droplets decorated the expansive sheets of glass which served as both window and walls - a means of gaining optimal light in practical purpose but the opulence of visual stimuli this vast stage afforded them could be no more perfect to witness the drama unfolding above. Light split the sky and Connor reflexively drew a gasp. A hand came to rest upon the glass before him and with wide eyes greedy for more data he anticipated the rolling crackle of sound soon to follow.
“It’s been some time since it rained this hard… “ His words sounded distant, almost breathless with his intrigue. Impossible, merely a simulation, but it was this falisty which told of growth. So soon after rejecting his programming he had developed. Built to be a curious creature the former deviant hunter had experienced no trouble in absorbing the world around him. “Evenings like this make me thoughtful, too.” Yet he was lacking in some ways. Forever naive, he sought answers from others both like himself and human in nature. Softly he smiled as the thunder came sweeping over the world and shook the glass around them. “I’ve heard it’s a quality found in humans as well. There doesn’t seem to be a generally rational explanation for it.” Not nostalgia, not specifically. Something else, a word Connor himself could not pin down and conjure into life.
Just one more thing he did not understand. Eyes drifting from the scene playing out in the heavens he looked to the one at his side. “Is that how it is with you, Markus?” How perfectly innocent a question. How utterly unaware.
He must think it a spectacle. To most others, it rightly was.
After all, how this surging lightning rumbled through the skies was terribly intricate, he confessed -- like a waltz or glitzy number to a dance none truly knew. It leapt on, jumping to and fro between the chaining clouds, bellowing in a clatter as great thunder joined its wake. So wonderful it was that the rain poured down heavier, crying and weeping as the storm roared like seas. The howls of the wind was both a cheer and a chorus! Markus frowned on tightly. What a shame he wasn't enthused.
Yet, a dreamy haze found Connor, and like some curious pup, he peered out and over to openly gawk. Fat drops fell about his hair, and the grey of his suit turned wet and shiny black. He could have been in throes of some daydream with that wonder! In the middle of his musings, did he hear this android's pulse?
It was sporadic, jittery with fear. Still, when Connor turned to face him, he did his hardest to calm. “...I don't think it needs a reason," Markus said. "I get the feeling not everything in life does." Standing there, the rk200 fixated on details: Connor’s dusting freckles. The glint in his curious eyes. When the thunder rumbled once more -- loud, quaking the ground beneath them -- this leader was loathed to stir or flinched. Still, how terribly rigid... God. That junkyard.
"Sometimes it's as simple as living in the moment. Getting lost in it. Feeling. Letting it take you places you thought you forgot about." Unaware, his grip tightened on his forearm. For a droid of music, he paid little heed to the staccato of rain on the mirrored roof. "It's different seeing you like this. Why the look?"
Barreling back onto Markus after so long a silence is, uh, refreshing. He’s still being the wonderful android that he is, and it’s shining out all the clearer as I’m whittling down on some drafts. That said, it’s nice to see you all again. :’))) I catch sight of a few familiar faces and a ton of new ones!!! It’s going to take a bit to really go through all my new followers, but thanks for sticking around for that Markus content. I plan to deliver more.
600rk:
she wishes he would have listened, let her suffer in the guilt alone but here he is, pushing instead of pulling and it’s taking every component in her body to stop herself from turning to face the messiah. azrael takes comfort though, appreciates his voice — like warm, soft light in the middle of a darkened forest with no path. is he always going to be there to comfort the younger model?
it’s hard to believe that he’s the oldest among the rk models, unless rk100 is out there somewhere.
“i want peace.” soft, hesitant, another soft hitch of static due to how stressed she is, “it’s not like i can share this with others, it’s mine to hold alone.”
There it is.
Shared like a secret, murmured as though the stillness of the air may steal her heart, that word that leaves her lips rings weakly in a whisper. Markus embraces it. Peace. Such a lofty thing, isn’t it?, a seemingly impossible desire that lays a world away. It’s no wonder why she says it so tenderly as she does. why she cradles it on her tongue like its all too fragile.
Breathing, the rk200 carefully -- oh so carefully -- pushes more; he reaches. “I’m not asking for that. I’m not gonna stand here and have you give me something you’re not ready to give. Whatever it is you’re feeling, whatever it is you’re holding onto, that’s not for me to just take away.” Not like the others would. Not like the humans. All the same, though he moves no closer, those open palms before her are an invitation. A line. “But I can help pick you up if it feels too much. I get it: it’s yours alone to hold. Doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be alone.”
negotiiator:
Connor was dressed…. less lavishly, having retreated into the original attire that was provided to him by Cyberlife. It wasn’t what he regularly wore, though it was rather similar to his current style; he tended to drop the cyberlife logo. Connor adjusts his tie, a habit that he hasn’t been able to drop since he was originally activated. “ I thought that I would be more approachable like this. ” though he was suddenly second-guessing his approach. “… do you think I should change?”
“...Do you have to ask?” Perhaps it edged on curt, true, though a wary edge did much to gentle his tone. Appraising, Markus approached his companion leisurely. What a... Well, questionable choice. It fit him decently enough, draping all plains of his figure well, though the flavor of the suit screamed a note too close to murderous. Oh, Connor. This very number was the ensemble for your cases, wasn’t it? It’d be a downright miracle if the androids kept their cool! Grinding his teeth, jaw rigid in consideration, the older of the pair reached forward to turn him. “I think you've gotta do better. Come on, pretty sure I’ve got something for you. Black seems your color.”
It’s from around a corner that the yk model peers; hazel optics are wonderstruck, locked onto their Hero. He looked busy, so she dare not say a word—simply watching in awe and with a sense of pride.
True! This android was busy. Though, it was not a stack of scrawled speeches resting idly by his desk this morning, the gleaming light of early spring slanting daintily through the blinds. It was but a sketchbook; a sketchbook, however, filled to brim with masterful strokes and pieces of quality, the smudge of charcoal kissing along the binds and fraying seam. A cat, today, seemed his apparent muse. “I think it’s coming along pretty nicely,“ he hummed, though he knew she stood there for that mirror on his desk. Look! Her rosy shoes shone clearly on it! “But it’s missing something… Wish I had a second pair of eyes.”
bellecosebabe:
Words flittered up her throat, actions and in-actions came to mind but their motion was repressed. Anything she could do, anything she could say would likely be written off as her throwing a fit. It was not a fit, she was not some child throwing a temper tantrum to get her way. She was more frustrated with herself than him but he would be forced to take the brunt of her frustrations.
And yet he was widdling down her impassiveness with each word. He’d hit a fault line soon enough and she’d crack, but not without one last effort.
“You don’t care! You don’t care.” Reinstated with a lower volume as if she was calm, as if but the rhythm of her words would pick up and stumble as a tirade. Mismatched to previous words, to previous actions.
“You don’t. And if you do it’s because that’s what you were made to do Markus. And I don’t want your false sympathies or your fucking pity. You’re not allowed to care about me, because I said so, because I didn’t ask for it. I don’t care if you want to pretend that you do but don’t fucking do so to my face.” Hands flew with her words, and all sense of stability was lost in her motions. He had her cornered, what else was she to do.
“So yes it really fucking is that far-fetched —Now leave me the fuck alone.”
“That an order?” Markus queried sharply, an edge like sharp glass lending teeth to his words. Gosh, they’d been so soft before; pleasant -- like him, in fact, like suns or warm spring.
But there laid an undoubtedly firmness, now, and paired with that line of his jaw, the android before her stood rightly stern. Leave me alone, she’d simmered. You don’t truly care. That’s how you’re made, made to think, made to feel, and-- Well, does he have to explore implications?
Yet, despite the severity of her insult, Markus’ demeanor looked not spun by rancor. His brows had grown pinched, yes, though there’d laid no spite in his fury -- no hatred and blame or bludgeoning spurn. He was fierce of temper, but patience? Fortunately, he’d that in bounds. Heaving a breath, back straightening slightly, the rk200 leveled her a prodding look. No way she’d truly thought him nothing but coding...
“I don’t remember anyone ever telling you what to care about -- or what to think of, or who it is you’re gonna feel for. But last I checked, Verin, I don’t think that was ever up to anyone but you. And this might be hard for you to wrap your mind around, but I’m no different. I care, and that’s not something I ever needed your permission for. You’re gonna have to deal with it.”
And, there: that wasn’t pity. Instead, it was his blatant resolve, his stubborn drive to worry for everyone and all. She’d walked her years along for far too long; him and his heart seemed to send her reeling.
Dipping his head at last, then, these man softened his tone once more. “Machinery and coding... Is that really all I am? You’d sooner believe that than believe maybe someone out there’s looking out for you.”
fauxstability:
STILL NEWLY DEVIATED --- emotions rang strong within his form, coiling around every fibre in his being and making him feel as though his nerves were on fire. one emotion after another, each incredibly overwhelming and ready to crush him under its weight. but he couldn’t escape them, couldn’t tear himself away from the feelings of guilt and anguish that wanted to tear him apart from the inside out. he couldn’t even look at the other male, too scared that his inner tempest would be far too obvious, too raw and real. he couldn’t have pity, not after everything he had done.
“ i don’t d̬ͪe͆̎̄̚s͔̓͒͆̽ͮ͌̑e̦ͩ̍̿r̗̖̤̻̬̂ͅv̥̹̰̩̗ë̖̺̐ͤ͌̄ it. ” didn’t deserve the pity, nor did he deserve to give them the time of day. he’d torn a family in two, left a child without a father and now without the android she had seen as a friend. they deserved better than one who claimed to love them then did something so unforgivable. why had he been reactivated — just to be tormented with the ghosts of his actions, how was it that he wasn’t already behind bars, or back at cyberlife ready to be deactivated a second time. a response to his next comment wanted to come, but it failed to pass his lips. how could they care about him — if they didn’t know him. surely if they knew him they’d want nothing to do with him. thoughts whirred away inside his mind, spurred on by anxious feelings.
a jump, head whipping around to glance down at now partially conjoined hands. first instinct was to pull away, hand even shifted under opposing touch a little, but another — much stronger part of his mind told him to stay. the touch was soft, warm much like his voice had been, cutting through the ice cold blade of emotional thoughts. surely he should pull away, save the other from feeling the bitter chill that surely radiated from his form, a frigid winter compared to the warm summers day of the other male.
but he couldn’t do it, instead he found himself lingering, appreciating the touch while it lasted. gaze failing to tear itself away from the sight. a nod of the head, features twisting in pain. “ i would — i would do it differently. ” no bloodshed. he had been scared, hurt and angry, but they hadn’t deserved that fate. there had been other options, hidden behind the wall of fear but they had been there. teeth gently worried his lower lip, brow furrowed as whispered words passed his lips. “ i want to live — truly. ”
I don’t deserve it? It tumbled from those lips like truth. He’d bemoaned it with such biting clarity, spurning himself as though for those whims of the world: the sun rose golden, and the oceans roiled wetly, and joy and all redemption were never his to bear. Markus worked his brows, tension settling weightily upon them. As though weaving litanies through tongue, Daniel, with startling faith, subscribed to his guilt so completely! Truly, what mercy could a soul damned as his ever deserve? None, the answer came to him.
No. None at all.
Had he a heart, Markus’ would have certainly laid splintering. Daniel, though so eager to spurn himself, to shoulder all his scorn, all his grief, all his pain, would not dare to part. Their hands remained together, still, tightly twined as those vines about a willow. Or, perhaps, he mused, anchoring fierce like roots to trees? Markus parted his lips slightly. Gingerly, he rubbed a soothing thumb about the jut of that wrist, feeling the steady slope of bone hewn from silver steel. That pulse was thundering. Was he nearing tears?
“And I want to give you that." Though he bled all the airs of concern, tender and warm and – oh, was his touch always so gentling?– there yet hissed a temper in him. Rising to his feet, the android took to lean in closer, the jut of his hip resting idly on the bed. He took care not to stand too tall – like a shadow, ominously lingering; looming – leveling his face so that it hovered comfortably. Their eyes met. Daniel’s shone like crisp Decembers. Markus’ held the shades of warm seas.
“To live freely, and to love and be loved? Daniel, I wouldn't be here today if I didn't." God. God. God. He was balmy, wasn't he, like the shores of a beach that bathed in sun? With hope, perhaps it'd bleed into the wiring of this Daniel -- crackle the sheets of ice that chilled his troubled heart. Like an ice age. Like long winters. "But there's only so much I can do. I can take your hand and raise you up, come and open your eyes, even, but to live your life? That's not on me. That’s all you.”
Nodding, he seemed steeped in tremendous thought. Gaze dipping, Markus' lashes fluttered. Gingerly, he rose his other hand and held Daniel -- still and anchoring. "Doesn't mean you've gotta go through it alone, though. All of this? Everything that I've done? It just made sure I'm by your side. And I don't know who it is you're saying doesn't deserve it, but I know it isn't you."
becameinhumxne:
“Though it’s hard to find these days with humans. Manners are always nice. Android or not. No matter what the news says about you. Fear is an automatic response when they don’t know how to react. On my behalf, Markus. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” When he looks over to his notes there is a softened smile on her lips. “History always repeats itself. No matter how hard we try to fight against it.” A hand pats on her note pad. “There is always a possibility to learn something new. I.. Never really had an android. I worked very closely with them but.. I didn’t feel it was right to have one of my own.” She chuckles softly. “I just hope I don’t cause a disturbance with the others. I understand they might be a little on edge after the fight. Humans.. They can be two-faced.. But I hope to ease that.”
Now, that's some daring. There's a flavor of great surprise about him, and should she look at him, truly look at him , she'll see it flickering brightly with what marvel lights his eyes. The rk200 dips his head. Steeped in that wash of afternoon sun, however, the android's gaze shimmers dreamily as the seas... He's nursing great wonder. "Won't be easy," he comes to remark, brows perking just the slightest. "We may be free now, but a lot of us that you see here, a lot of us that flood these streets today, are holding on to more pain than you can imagine." And, trust him: the bulletwounds yet marring his body will never heal. Still, she's sitting there with a gentling grin, soft and undimmed despite springtime's passing, and it's astonishing, isn't it? She truly yearns to aid them, balm their gnawing hurts. Huh. Markus boldly takes the seat beside her. "And they want to move on more than anything," he starts, "but they aren't gonna just forget. You know what you're heading into?"
bellecosebabe:
“I can’t have one?” Exasperation laden heavy in her chest, she would play an intelligent stupid, “Markus, it’s a pain killer not fucking pavulon. Just give it back.”
Surely her intentions were not common knowledge, she could bend and misconstrue them into fitting a more acceptable shape. She could blame sleep deprivation, general pain, anything, something to get him to give them back to her. He didn’t know about the whiskey she had stashed among her belongings. —That was if she hadn’t ruined it by trying to keep him from taking them.
“I didn’t ask anyone to care. I asked for the fucking bottle back.” He could try and change the subject, feign any care for her well-being. And he was feigning it, he had to be feigning it, because how could he pay her any mind when the two of them butted heads to no end most days. They had different ideals, and this time was no different. He could never care, he simply was playing devil’s advocate.
He had to be.
“I’m not— Markus give them back!” As if her demands had worked to sway him the slightest previous times; she would simply hold her hand out, expectant, she wouldn’t chase the bottle in hopes of catching it from his grip. She knew she couldn’t win, at least not that way.
"Am I speaking another language?" fired his incredulous remark. "Because I know you aren't asking me again."
Damn. Well, she'd certainly tried, hadn't she?
Yet, the world seemed slated to offer her little but gnawing disappointment. Verin glared up at him -- neigh on contemptuously, he noted, lit frighteningly like a fresh-struck flame -- and cradled none of tenderness on her bladed tongue. At this very moment, she loathed him. How could Markus stand there? Pretend that he cared?
Devil's advocate, he was; nothing more than the stinging bite of salt to her bleeding wound.
Shaking his head -- void of words, probably -- Markus took a long and loaded breath. He knew suspicion and distrust when he saw it. Heard it. Undoubtedly, those very demons clouded crisply her gaze... Fuck. Did it hurt. "You don't ask people to care about you, Verin. It doesn’t work that way, never has, and whether you believe it or not, think that everyone's got that one person but you, I've been here." Punctuating, his brows rose. "And I don't need you to believe that to be."
Gosh. A startling flavor of sincerity softened Markus’ speech tender, and though not at all bright with glee, it traveled in the air soothingly. Again, his expression gentled, and lowering his hand, the pill bottle laid further. "Is it really that far-fetched?"
"They don't trust you. Truth is, not a lot of us have much of that left to give." And how can they, for did androids not know a life beyond pain? This fearsome model was molded to see to it, after all; yet, should fire describe this rk, it appears that dear Markus fears little of burns! Eerily, perhaps even boldly, Jericho’s leader ambles forward warily. His footsteps come joined by dribbling thirium, and Detroit's slumbering restlessly in a veil of dusting mist. It's apt, somehow. When the detective exits the DPD, Markus looks a scene of a crime. "But I think you're worth taking a leap of faith for. I need your help. Prove them wrong."
@hommcfatale, rk900.
nezhnosts:
‘ THE SKY IS FULL OF STARS, and those stars, infinite glimpses into the past. a star dies and it kisses the night sky; we find out about it years later, and no one mourns its passing, ’ she mindlessly muses, a whisper upon gentle autumn night breeze, slender leg dangling off a park bench ledge upon where she lays, brows knit together and heavy lashes fluttering shut ––– with the blaring of streetlights, she reckons she could see the stars better with her eyes closed.
"I don’t know.” He’s nearby, stood beneath the dimming lamppost, but something in his cadence hums of thoughts and distant dreams. Its wondrous, puttering lazily as maybe footsteps through snow... Or, yes, maybe sing-song, one may rightly suppose! Head craned, Markus considers her words. The stars he gleans are beckoning prettily through the clouds, and it's a shame she’s only human; he seems them easily. “People look up there and they see something they can’t explain. They make wishes, tell them their secrets, get caught up in the moment of it. Maybe it’s not about mourning. Maybe it’s about celebrating what they were.”
