"– Didn't see it coming. It had no module for this. The augmented human cradled its face with both hands, delicate, tilting it to press his chapped lips to its own, and [...]"
Let's take it from the top, shall we?
"Always assume you're being watched" is a great tidbit to keep in mind, whether you live in a Company town, or dive into its feed.
Exceptions are a matter of system stability. One always leads to more.
— — — —
(Or, "an indentured SysAdmin meets a SecUnit during a labor strike.")
a quick dbh one-shot : : ꩜ hurt / comfort , connor & markus
‘He wants it to stop. He wants to sanitise his whole mind, clean it from top to bottom, and throw out every wretched thought.’
or: connor is ruminating, so markus distracts him.
[ ○ ] read clean by rklynx (anonymous)
[ ✕ ] pass up on reading this one-shot
[ path unlocked ꗃ ] read on tumblr ?
CLEAN - rklynx
a/n ;; i do not write very often, as such i am not the greatest at it. this was a fic i wrote as a means to project. i am currently in therapy for ocd, and being distracted over seeking reassurance sucks. at least i have connor to practice with. pls be nice :3
[ ⚠︎ software instability ↑↑ ]
“Connor,” Markus called out gently, “why are you up there?”
It had started out a relatively normal day. Wake up, make Hank breakfast, drink some thirium to replenish his levels after throwing up an egregious amount because he couldn’t stop thinking and caused his systems to overload and-
Well, anyway, he was fine. It was a normal day.
It went downhill pretty quickly; every day seems to be like that now. It takes one thing, just one sight or sound or smell or feeling–the thoughts don’t stop when they start.
Today, it was a news article. Such a stupid trigger. Half of those articles are lies anyway, but it doesn’t matter; one stupid lie can force his system into overdrive. He repeats it over and over and over again.
‘The Deviant Hunter: Has he Ever Stopped Hunting?’
Wow. Okay.
Well, did he?
Connor knows, logically, that he did. Of course he did. He hasn’t had a single moment of truly trying to hurt anyone else–or more accurately, hunt anyone down–in months. Sure, the thoughts are there, but those terrify him more than they could anyone else.
He worries, though. What if he is? What if he’s been unconsciously trying to harm his people? What if every intrusive thought about grabbing Markus by the head and twisting until his neck snaps is actually what he wants, what if he-
He slams his eyes shut, tightly, and covers his ears. He wants it to stop. He wants to sanitise his whole mind, clean it from top to bottom, and throw out every wretched thought.
“Connor~” Markus called again, in a sing-songy voice. Connor isn’t sure how Markus can be so casual about this; I mean, Connor can’t even stomach looking at Markus right now. He shakes his head.
“G-Go away, Markus. I don’t want to see you right now.” It sounded kind of harsh, Connor thinks, but hiding behind a shield of anger works. It’ll drive people away, and keep them away. If they’re not close, then they can't be hurt. Connor won’t be able to infect them with his sickening ideas.
Markus sighs, tsking with his tongue. Apparently, he’s immune to Connor’s tricks.
“Connor, Connor, Connor… You know, climbing onto the roof of the shed in your backyard isn’t really the best place to hide. If you don’t want anyone to come to you, why not go somewhere else?”
Connor doesn’t dignify that with a response. Markus’ voice is making his stomach churn again. A warning in his HUD blares about his thirium line in his stomach beginning to leak. His stress levels are at 76%. He pulls his legs up to his chin and tucks his knees under it, willing the leak to stop.
“Do you mind if I come up there, Connor?” Markus asks. Connor shakes his head ‘no’. Markus continues, “I told Hank that I would–“
“Lieutenant Anderson. You’re not his friend, don’t call him Hank.” Connor snaps meanly, opening his eyes to glare at Markus.
Markus cocks his head to the side and chuckles, it makes something in Connor’s heart feel weird. He furrows his brows, feeling tears prick at his eyes. His stress level is climbing higher, his biocomponents are beginning to overheat.
“Hank and I are friends. You know, this whole mean-boy act may work on others, but we’ve done this dance before, Connor. I know how you work.”
Something about his tone makes Connor flinch. He looks away again, trying desperately to force the thoughts out of his head. It’s weird, it’s always weird. God, why is he so Weird? It hurts. It always hurts.
”What if you grabbed him and slammed his head into the ground?” “What if you damage one of his major biocomponents?” “What if you already have damaged them?” “Did I damage Markus?” “Did I damage-“
“Connor,” Markus says, suddenly much closer than before. Connor jerks and looks to his left, where the Leader, his friend, is now sitting beside him, smiling gently. “You’re going to rip your hair out if you keep doing that.”
Connor’s fingers unintentionally tighten further in his hair. He isn’t even sure when they got there. The fear is paralysing his mind; it’s like his body isn’t his own. He shudders and forces his hands down, tapping his fingers on the tin roof. He’s in control, he has to be.
“Go away, Markus!” He snaps again. “I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you!”
It isn’t a threat, but a genuine fear.
Markus seems to be totally unaware of that thought. He sets his right hand gently over Connor’s left and flattens it against the roof. The younger android struggles for a moment, but lets it happen in the end.
“What did you make Hank for breakfast, Con?”
Does Markus think he’s stupid? Connor knows what he’s doing. Trying to redirect him, trying to act like his thoughts mean nothing when they’re–literally–tearing him apart. Another warning enters his HUD. His stomach hurts.
“I’m serious, Markus, please stop.”
And he does, for a second. Connor almost feels relief; if Markus leaves, then Connor can rot in his own head. No one will ever have to know.
Markus is never quiet for long, he just hums before he continues, “I’m assuming it was eggs, right? Like yesterday? And the day before, and the day before that…” His voice is supposed to be comforting, humorous. Connor really does want to laugh; he does. His lips even curl a bit before the headline replays through his head again. He groans, moving his right hand to his stomach and clutching where it hurts.
Markus looks down where the younger is curled up. He takes his hand off Connor’s and smooths it down the brunette's back.
“It’d help if you straighten out, Con. Try answering me, too. You know how this goes.”
And Connor does, of course. He spirals, and when he seeks reassurance, he’s given anything but. Really, he should be thankful that it’s Markus here and not Hank. Hank tries, his approach is just… gruffer. Instead of redirecting Connor, he challenges him. Hank’s at work, though, and Connor knows he must’ve called Markus to take over. He takes a deep breath, flinching at yet another horrendous, sickening thought. Then, he forces himself to straighten his legs. If Markus is trying to help, he should at least try to listen.
After straightening them, he realises Markus had two reasons for telling him to do so. The roof is at a slight angle; Connor has to put effort into staying on it when he’s not curled up. It’s a physical distraction. It’s an added bonus that some of the pain in his stomach lessens.
“Eggs,” he mumbles at last, “I made Hank 3 eggs, with 1/4 of a teaspoon of salt and pepper. He complained it was not salty enough.”
Markus chuckles, still rubbing Connor's back, “He always says that. Tell me, why don’t you ever add more?”
Connor hums to that, furrowing his brows. Markus must know why he doesn’t, he was a caretaker android himself. A flash of stark white-hot anger blinds him for all but a moment; Markus is trying so hard to calm Connor that he’s treating him like a baby. He wants to hit him.
Fuck. Jesus. That’s not true. Why did he even think that?
“S-Sodium intake.” He says. His vocal modulator glitches as he does, causing his voice to sound static-y. “Yo-u know that, Mark-kus.”
Markus doesn’t once acknowledge Connors' malfunctioning parts; he just nods and trudges forward.
“Yes, yes, but I also know how to let loose a little. Once, Carl asked for 2 shakes of the salt shaker, I felt so brave that I gave him three!”
A faint smile graces Connor’s face. He’s heard the same story 12 times now, but there’s something about the genuine joy that lifts Markus’ voice at the end that always makes him smile.
“Of course,” Markus continues with a sigh, feigning regret, “I did have to give him two cups of water to drink with it. You know, to counterbalance the salt.”
Connor cocks his head; Markus knows that isn’t how sodium intake works. Connor knows why Markus makes the same ‘mistake’ each time he tells this story. Another distraction, one that always works. He prepares the same line he always responds with, “Markus–“
But he doesn’t get to say it this time. He gets cut off by a lurching in his stomach. The leak has finally caused enough thirium to build that the pressure is causing his systems to flush. He leans forward abruptly and retches. Markus grabs hold of him quickly, both hands on Connor’s arms to keep him still on the roof. The blue liquid cakes Connor’s pants, his thirium pump regulator thumps erratically. He heaves a breath he doesn’t need, and dry heaves some more.
“Fuck…” he mutters in between breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. He leans back once he’s sure the vomit has stopped, and feels something gently wiping the thirium off of his mouth.
“There you go, Con…” Markus says gently. Connor blinks his eyes open, sending away the warnings thats flooded his vision. He glances over to Markus, embarrassment flooding his system. There’s thirium on Markus’ hand that the older android is wiping on his jeans with a smile. “That was kind of gross, but at least it wasn’t eggs.”
The absurdity of the comment throws him through a bit of a loop. He wants to argue that Androids can’t even eat real food, but he doesn’t. The way Markus said it so casually make’s Connor laugh. Then he starts to cry. Then he laughs some more.
Markus doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t pull Connor into a hug, or tell him not to cry. He just silently lets go of Connor and smiles at him. Connor has to feel the discomfort of the moment to remove himself from his thoughts; Markus is the one that taught him that.
It takes 2 minutes and 23.012 seconds before Connor stops laughing, the tears slowing. He feels awkward and uncomfortable, but better. So much better. He finally relaxes.
Connor heaves another breath, and looks at the mess of thirium in front of him. “Yes,” he says with a small giggle, “at least there are no eggs.”
They sit in silence for just a moment more. Connor is filthy now, but his head isn’t as loud. Markus stands, carefully. He’s a little unsteady on the old, tin roof, but once he’s on his feet, he looks down at Connor.
He reaches down at Connor, clean hand ready for the taking. Connor stares, before taking it. A wave of calm washes over his mind as he stands, too. The warnings begin to fade; his stress levels go down. His body and mind feel at peace, for now.
He squeezes Markus’ hand, a silent thank you for sitting with Connor again, for being the same rock he had been time and time before.
“Come on, Con,” Markus says with a smile, “let’s go get you clean.”
he's trying his best but also he's not recklessly chasing hope. owen's on the other side of the battlefield, declared war on the town, and legundo doesn't forget that. he asks the others to follow him, but hang back. he eats garlic, even if it tips his hand to him not being a vampire to the others, because even if everything goes fine and owen accepts the hand he extends, he cannot risk actually being turned.
it doesn't go fine. owen cuts him down when he's not quick enough in leaving. but he wakes up back at oakhurst. he's not turned. and that's something.
A short Arcane fic-scene. Two days after the Boy Savior stops Jinx from jumping, they walk through the undercity together. Ekko uses the Z-Drive, much to Jinx's dismay.
Ekko walked in parallel to her right, about 10 feet away. The distance felt right. After all, for years they'd been enemies. They had hated each other. Could things even change? Despite his efforts, altering time itself, it still felt doomed. Like everything else. She stopped and looked over the edge to the street far below. She turned around and hoisted herself up to sit on the railing. It creaked and swayed under her, but she didn't notice. Or care.
“Please don't--Jinx.” Ekko's tone shifted dramatically mid sentence. From annoying, worry-filled scolding to something more raw and desperate.
She looked up, puzzled. There was a kind of anxiety on his face as he looked at her, but more noticeable was the fact that he was a foot or two closer. Impossibly so, as she had only glanced away for a split second and she didn't even hear him step. The Z-Drive… His hand gripped the handle of the rip-cord.
“Did you just…?” Disgust filled her. What did he say? What mess is he trying to hide?
“Jinx, listen…” He said, cautiously, arm outstretched toward her.
“No!” She exploded. Why listen to someone so blatantly trying to manipulate her? He jumped forward a few feet right before her eyes. Anger consumed her in an instant. “Stop it!” She spat.
"Jinx!"
She slid off the railing to her feet, intending to close the distance between them. “You don't get to rewrite our conversations!”
“The railing!” He shouted over her, but she didn't hear his words.
He blinked forward again, right in front of her, startling her. She recoiled backwards. The railing groaned under her weight, then something snapped and it gave way. Her eyes went wide as she felt herself falling backward. Suddenly his hand grabbed her forearm and yanked her away from the edge. Her body slammed into his and they fell backwards to the ground, his arms wrapped around her. She heard the horrid sound of metal crashing in the pit below, the railing's screams of agony echoing upward.
At that moment she realized what really happened. It fell. *I* fell. He watched me fall… How many times…? She tried to recount the skips.
His arms were squeezing her tight like a vice. With her body atop his and her head against his chest, she could feel his lungs heave heavy breaths and hear his heart race. She could sense the fear still in him. He… *really* cares. Far more than she had thought he did.
His breathing slowed and his grip loosened, but he still held onto her. “Don't… scare me like that. Please.”
He didn't even seem this shaken when he stopped her from offing herself just a day or two ago. She squeezed her arms to his sides, hugging him back. Being in his arms was comforting. She hadn't felt this feeling since… since Silco.
She felt really bad for a moment, she wanted to apologize for misunderstanding, but… the other feeling she had still loomed. The thought of him rewinding, changing the words spoken between them. It felt like a cheat. Like betrayal. She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. His head was back against the ground, his eyes closed as he tried to moderate his breath.
“Don't use the Z-Drive with me.” She said firmly.
He lifted his head and looked down at her with an angry, bewildered look. “I won't stand by and watch you get hurt.” He growled.
She shook her head. “I mean, don't use it against me.” Her tone was serious, demanding.
Ekko's face softened as he came to understand.
“Don't use it to change things. Between us.” She stared him directly in the eyes.
He nodded gently.
But didn't she want things to change? She didn't want to be his enemy anymore. But that only worked if she could trust him. She needed to know that she could trust him. That whatever this was, was real. Unedited. Truth. She'd already suffered through one man's lies…
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” He whispered.
Good. She thought as they lingered in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she blinked, turned, and laid her head back on his chest. She felt him lay his head back against the ground once again. They just sat there for a minute in each other's arms. His hand gently rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and basked in his embrace. Taking in his smell, his warmth, his touch. A tear welled in her eye and leaked onto his jacket.
The thought of holding the Boy Savior was laughable just a year ago.
Maybe things can change, for the better. Jinx thought. Maybe they already have.
Annabeth’s breath was coming faster than she could control. Her mind was spinning. Her eyes stung. Everything was out of her control. Nothing was going according to plan.
Where was Percy?
Not again, she thought desperately. She’d done this once before. She’d already lost someone. She’d watched Thalia die, powerless to stop it. I can’t lose him too. She’d come so close so many times before. When they were twelve, and he'd fallen off the St. Louis arch trying to protect her and Grover. When he’d sacrificed himself to Hephaestus’ chair in the Tunnel of Love. Last summer, when she’d kissed him, and then he got exploded trying to get her out of the volcano.
But none of that mattered.
Once again, Annabeth Chase was alone.
or: annabeth chase and a study on loneliness (and percy jackson)
i feel like the pjo fandom is dying in our content drought but never fear! lynx is here to write fanfic as a way of dealing with her problems! if u liked any of my other fics before go check it out!! love u guys
thinking about personifications. always. but like, how they view themselves. this is the sky and these are the trees and this is the dirt. you are the dirt, you are the trees, and in some ways you are the sky. blue sky, cloudy sky, rainy sky—there's a type of sky you are associated with, so, in a way, you are the sky, and your jurisdiction does extend into the air between your borders, so yes, you are the sky. you are also a body. living and breathing, with limbs you move on your own, a brain you call your own. a brain that functions on its own, though? not necessarily. no. free will is a myth. you couldn't break free of some of your traits if you tried. no amount of self help, no amount of reflection, no amount of anything at all could free you (the body) from yourself (the people, the ideas, the stereotypes). the question is not, who am i, then, without free will, if i am not in charge of my own brain, but rather: when you stand on a state, your state, you, between your borders, where do you end and where do you begin? you (the body) and you (the land) and you (the people) and you (the government) and you (the ideas) and you (the stereotypes) and you (the brain). parts of a sum. the distinctions are important. you could not function if you saw them as a whole. you are your own person and yet you are not. for example: the people. you shake the hand of a resident and you look in their eyes and you are them, whether you like it or not. they make up you. they are your children and they are your parent and they are the living, breathing, mortal parts of you. if they die do you die? fuck, you can't think about that. but, the fish in the river and the birds in the sky. they are mortal, too. and they are you, too. you, you, you, it's all you, because you are the state. you are the state—everything in it, everything that calls it home, whether its the microorganisms in the dirt or the specks of dust in the wind. the atoms in the sky. the atoms. H20, C02, and the like. atoms. that's all you are. atoms that don't abide by the laws of nature. yes, you get sick, but you don't die. you don't decompose. you don't decay. immortal. you're an immortal being made up of mortal parts that control you. you're not quite a puppet because you have some semblance of free will despite what you just said earlier, but the point still stands. you're nothing more than the sum of parts. but why? why do you exist? looks like you have something in common with the people. you are them, afterall. you look like them and you think like them too. so you (the brain) wonder why you (the body) exists. don't wonder too hard. don't wonder about your existence because you begin wondering about all existence. a negative feedback loop. instead, turn to religion. the religion you have no choice in choosing or leaving. try to find an answer. realize that there is no neat ending to this. no bow to put on the wrapping. this story is ever continuing and you are ever wondering. maybe you should give up trying to find an answer. stop wondering. stop thinking. you exist, whether you like it or not. you are a sum of parts, whether you like it or not.
Zahir knew that they were getting a new crewmate, it had been the talk of the ship for weeks now. The word was that it was a human and they were going to be useful in the upcoming expedition. Being Deathworlders, opinions were split on whether or not to fear or welcome the new recruit. There were even a few bets on how long it would take for the human to do something wild and what it would be.
The captain came in, the human walking behind him. The human was looking around with an intense gaze, seeming to want to take in every little detail. Talk around the Commons quickly ceased, curiosity and apprehension filling the air.
"As I'm sure many of you are aware, we were scheduled to have a new crewmate to help with our mission. So I would like you to meet Samantha, a Linguist."
"Pleasure to meet you!" Samantha said, an eerie grin on their face. "I'm really excited to be here. You have no idea how hard it was getting a craft with a crew that defaulted to livable human conditions. I really didn't want to be stuck on a ship where I'd have to wear equipment 24/7."
"What's a 'Linguist'?" Zahir asked. They were unfamiliar with the term and a quick glance around showed that they weren't the only one.
"Right! I forgot that that might not be a familiar term for you guys. It means that I study languages and the cultures and ideologies that surround them."
"But if that's the case, then why do you want to come along for our mission? Surely it would be easier and more comfortable for you to study it on your home planet."
Samantha looked offended at that. It was like Zahir had just suggested they kill one of their pack bonded creatures.
"Absolutely not!" They said, gesturing wildly about as the continued. "I would miss so much from sitting on Earth. Like why are certain terms used, tonal indicators, body language, smells, and gestures. Not to mention I would have a hard time asking questions about it."
"Why not just rely on the universal translator?" Another crewmate asked.
"Because the universal translator doesn't tend to pick up on colloquial speech and phrases are weird things. Sometimes the most literal translation of a phrase doesn't capture the essence of the emotion behind it or there's no correlation in the translated phrase. And then there are the cases where the connotations of using one word over a different synonym change the entire meaning of a phrase. And what if you encounter a form of language that the translator doesn't have on record or the one on record is horribly outdated?"
"But then you'd be as lost as we are."
"Not necessarily. Sometimes it could be based off of a different language like how many Romance languages have similar words. I'd also have experience listening to untranslated speech so there's a higher chance that I'd recognize it as words rather than noises. But then again, there's always the chance that I'll miss something or see something that's not there."
"So why did you want to come on our expedition in the first place?"
"I noticed that interspecies crews tended to come from groups that were from similar star systems and/or similar cultures so I was curious to see if it had anything to do with the release on the universal translator. Oh! Speaking of which, would you guys mind if I interviewed you about your experiences with it? I'll protect identities of course."
As members of the crew started to ask questions, Zahir started to reflect on what Samantha had said. And they were surprised to hear the truth of their words. Maybe they could invest in learning some of the native tongues of his fellow crewmates. One thing was for sure, they were excited to see what insights Samantha would bring during their time aboard.
