Tumgik
#trash jumpers
cinemajunkie70 · 2 years
Text
A very happy birthday to Harmony Korine!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
12 notes · View notes
riverkingmarley · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
👎
13 notes · View notes
lucifinaspissed · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
In 2017, 48 year old Robert Seman jumped to his death from the fourth floor of the Mahoning County Courthouse after his status hearing for his upcoming death penalty trial. The trial stemmed from Seman's upcoming conviction on charges of sexually abusing 10 year old Corrine Gump, who was set to testify against him in court. Seman decided that was not going to happen. He burned down her grandparents home with her inside. All 3 perished. (Last photo taken by me, 2023)
6 notes · View notes
Note
I insert a photograph of Weird Al Yankovic
The machine dispenses allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters, trash compactors, juice extractor, shower rods and water meters, walkie-talkies, copper wires safety goggles, radial tires, bb pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers, picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters, paint removers, window louvres, masking tape and plastic gutters, kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables, hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power foggers, spoons and ladles, pesticides for fumigation, high-performance lubrication, metal roofing, water proofing, multi-purpose insulation, air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors, tire guages, hamster cages, thermostats and bug deflectors, trailer hitch demagnetizers, automatic circumcisers, tennis rackets, angle brackets, duracells and energizers, soffit panels, circuit brakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, calculators, generators, matching salt and pepper shakers.
253 notes · View notes
calli0p3 · 2 months
Text
ashlyn dance headcanons (from a dancer) 🩰💫
- likes ballet because of the structure, same thing every time, very strict technique.
- queen gets to the studio 30 minutes early to warm up NO doubts.
- I feel like she would be a jumper. her flexibility would lead to some seriously good leaps.
- the type of person to not put anything but toe pads in her pointe shoes.
- alternatively ashlyn wears warm ups RELIGIOUSLY. i just know she lives in trash bag pants and leg warmers
145 notes · View notes
fuctacles · 1 year
Text
Unusual, but maybe not in a bad way
Eddie's shoes might look good, but they were never a good choice for summer rains. He kept forgetting that and letting the reality of his fashion choices hit him hard in the face. Or knees.
The bus had a moving plate in the middle that usually wasn't a problem but today wasn't usual. Today the rain was pouring and Eddie's phone was at 15% because he had been too lazy to plug it in before falling asleep. So today he had to switch seats to one next to a charging port and as he was making the short voyage, a few things aligned perfectly to make today unusual, and in a bad way.
The rotating plate was wet from the rain.
The soles of his shoes had no grip.
The bus turned left.
"Shit."
Eddie gathered himself off the wet floor, cursing his shoes, the weather, and the throbbing pain in his knee. Without looking up he fell heavily into the seat that was his destination, afraid of the amused stares he might catch. His dignity? Gone. His pants? Well, they were torn already anyway so one new hole didn't make much difference. His knee? Bleeding, apparently. As he rubbed his knees, one of his hands came out red. He groaned.
"Of fucking course." He just had to hit something sharp on the usually safe and relatively smooth surface. 
When he was reaching to plug in his phone, someone grabbed the pipe just above the USB port. Eddie looked up and found a man looking down at him. He also realized the golden frames of his glasses complimented his hazelnut eyes beautifully.
"You should clean this up," the man said instead of making fun of him or asking if he was okay. No, he was holding out a packet of wet wipes like some kind of saint.
Eddie hesitated for a moment but while his dignity might be gone, the gorgeous man in front of him wasn't. He took the offered wipe.
"Thanks," he murmured, wiping the cut and the surrounding skin, cleaning off sand and blood.
The man dropped a backpack on the vacant seat next to him. Eddie eyed the pins attached to it; a couple of dinosaurs, a Hufflepuff crest, ‘protect trans kids’, and… a bisexual flag. Score.
"Pirates, Hello Kitty or dinosaurs?"
"Huh?"
"Band-aid," the man clarified, shaking a small tin can he fished out of his backpack. "I work with kids," he added like it explained everything. Well, it kind of did. Upon opening, the tin revealed an assortment of colourful band-aids.
Eddie hummed in thought, considering his choices.
"Dinosaurs."
"Good choice," the man praised with a smile, probably the same one he showed to the kids. Was he a teacher? Because suddenly all the teacher-student porn scenarios gained a new appeal. Where skimpy pencil skirts didn’t work on Eddie, a soft green jumper just might, apparently.
The man handed him a dino band-aid, apparently expecting him to apply it himself. Well, of course. They were two strangers on a bus, after all.
Disappointed, he put it on the cut, missing the amused tilt of the teacher's lips.
"Do you need anything else? I have some candy; lollipops, gummies…" The man flipped through the contents of his bag.
"Gummies?" Eddie's interest was piqued.
"They have colourful fillings and a tiny dragon on each wrapper," he advertised, offering him a small baggie to choose from. Again, his tone reminded him of an adult talking to a kid. This shouldn't be working on him as well as it was.
"Can I have two?" he asked, looking up into these stunning brown eyes. The level difference was not helping. Has he not sat down on purpose? To tower over poor Eddie's tiny metal heart?
The man smiled as he took a quick conspiratorial look around.
"You can even have three, just don't tell my kids," he whispered
"I ain't a snitch!" he assured and picked up two green candies and an orange one. Because red flavours belonged in the trash.
Or apparently in the plush mouth of a handsome stranger, since he picked one of those for himself. Maybe Eddie didn't hate them that much, after all. He could make an exception. Especially if he could taste them the fun way.
"You sure you don't want a lollipop? Water? Extra band-aid?"
Eddie shook his head adamantly but had a nagging feeling the man was stalling. His gaze dropped to the flag badge, giving him an instant shot of courage.
"Your number?"
The soft teacher's smile turned sly, and he knew he took the right step. His metal heart thumped in his chest, the sound resonating against his ribs. What a fun feeling.
"Better hurry up, my stop is next."
Eddie nearly dropped his phone in his haste to put in the string of numbers.
"What do I…?" he asked when the empty ‘name’ box stared at him from the screen.
"Steve," the man offered, just in time for the bus to stop. The doors swung open, and he was gone, but while the physical distance between them grew, Eddie now had the comfort of having him in the palm of his hand, hidden behind a number.
>> Thanks for the candy! 🖤 - Eddie 
[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]
436 notes · View notes
atzfilm · 1 year
Text
— ch_i san (m) 
Tumblr media
— pairing; android!san × reader, 19k
— genre; sci-fi, fluff, angst, smut
— summary; it's 2135, one hundred years after the rise of the Anarchist, a revolutionist group that tore the world in half. the creation of their andr_ids forced the poorer population to abide by the Anarchist rules or face death. you, a lowly machinery worker, leave work to find a defective model, ch_i san. you're forced to make the decision of helping the andr_id model, or reporting it to the leading faction. of course you make the only sane choice – follow a robot into complete and utter peril.
– warnings; death mentions, blood, weapons, wounds, guns, knives, discrimination against robots?, cursing, violence, slightly political
– note; very loosely inspired by the korean film jung_e! everyone should watch its amazing ♡
The sound of alarms awakens you from your deep slumber. Your eyes remain closed, arm thrown over your face as you whine at the sound. It is enough to wake up the others in the compound, loud grunts and curses echoed throughout the facility. It’s the first rest that you’ve had in over twenty-four hours, a frown coating your lips as you finally force your eyes open. You throw your folded towel at the speaker just above your door. You don’t expect it to suddenly stop echoing the sound, though it irritates you more when nothing happens. You grab your jumper as you glance in the mirror, wiping off the remnants of a couple hours of sleep.
Please remain in your facilities until further notice. Do not leave your compounds unless commanded by your superior officers. Please re-
You drown out the noise with the headphones over your ears, swinging open your front door. Everyone is out and about, whispers throughout the night as your faces lift to the large screen in the middle of the building. The same two sentences echo repeatedly, seemingly louder each time. Guards stand just below it, stationed at all exits from your facility. You narrow your eyes, glancing around at the others. Families begin shutting their doors, couples holding each other’s hands as they disappear into their rooms. You look around the crowd, spotting your friend just a few feet away. He meets your eyes, navigating through the crowd. You don’t bother waiting for him to reach you, walking back to your room.
He slips in through the slightly ajar door, shutting it loudly. He’s covered in filth from the laboratories, black ink decorating his fingers, prints against his face where he wiped. You hand him your box of towels, a thanks escaping his parted lips. He sighs as he cleans his face, glancing up at the small speaker in your room.
“Think it’s another drill?” He asks, brow quirked.
“At first yea. Until I saw his men standing beneath the screen, blocking all of the exits. Whatever someone stole must have been valuable. And now they’re getting us all in trouble for their mistakes,” you huff, sitting on the edge of your bed. Seonghwa takes your lone chair for himself, lifting his legs to rest against the edge of the makeshift coffee table. You scold him with a kick to his ankles, a whine escaping his lips as he drops them back to the floor. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean to get to trash up my place.”
“Place? More like a room,” he murmurs, straightening up in his chair. “Should have pretended that you were coupling with me so we could get a bigger size.”
“No offense Seonghwa,” you snort, sipping your glass of water. “But it’s very unlikely that they would believe it.”
“Because I’m too hot?” he grins, your frown deepening.
“Because we argue every chance we get. And my supervisor is already on my case about the backlogged work. No need to cause more trouble.”
“You should skip it,” he suggests, “I’d defend you against the world you know. A pity that I wouldn’t receive the same back,” he rests the back of his hand against his forehead, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. You scrunch your nose, tossing the empty metal cup at his face. He groans.
“I defend you every time you do something stupid, asshole. Remember that time you took the building blocks from the childhood development center? Or that time the guards wanted to take your figurines away but you said it was for your younger brother that doesn’t exist? And I had to back you up on that before they started to ask for your documentation.”
“Hey! I still have a few years left on that lie,” he notes, rubbing his cheek. “And I should be allowed to have them! Why do the children get to have the fun while I’m covered in soot?”
“Seonghwa,” you say his name a bit sternly this time, glancing at the door. Often in close quarters, a slip of the tongue is caught by a passing guard. And despite how much teasing you two do, you’d rather not see him at the mercy of the Anarchist. His little nonsensical disputes are enough.
“I know,” his face softens, straightening himself in his seat. “Think it’s something big?”
“Well—”
The alarm blares just as you begin to speak. The small monitor in your room, about a little more than ten centimeters, lights up. Seonghwa immediately slides next to you, the air tense. There’s rarely a moment it's ever bright, only in times of turmoil. He rests his hand on your knees, your gazes focused on the screen. The Anarchist appears instantly, face covered with a skull mask. It is nothing new, no one but his close advisors know what he truly looks like.
My apologies for the incessant ringing of the alarms. It is a nuisance, truly, but a necessity. I am here to inform you that there are certain models of our recent androids have left the factory and malfunctioned. There is no need to worry since they are not harmful, we have just prolonged the alarm to ensure that all of our citizens remain indoors until we find all faulty droids. If you see any, please do not hesitate to contact your facility staff. And though this does not need to be said, we strongly advise against harboring the machinery. If any of you are found to be sheltering one of the droids, your stipends will be reduced to zero and you and your immediate family will be relocated to a rehabilitation facility until we no longer see you as a threat. I thank you for your cooperation and precious time. Pray for the Anarchist.
He places his hand over his heart and you and Seonghwa do the same, repeating the monotonous phrase just as the screen flickers off. Seonghwa snorts, turning back to you.
“Seems like they can’t do anything right. I mean, escaped androids? How the hell did that even happen?”
“Don’t know,” you start, standing up from your bed. The alarms stop just as you get used to the sound. “And don’t care, frankly. Hopefully they catch them all so we can get back to being poor, miserable citizens.”
He laughs at your dry tone, grabbing his bag that he threw against the floor and heading to the door. It’s only two steps away, but Seonghwa makes the trek seem agonizingly long. He combs his soiled fingers through his hair, blowing a stray strand away from his forehead. Him escaping regulations about hair length is beyond you, but you’ve learned to question little of what he does. Seonghwa is a strange man who happens to be your best friend, but you haven’t the slightest idea on what dwells in his mind. He waves goodbye and closes the door behind him. Just as it shuts, you change your clothing into work attire, flicking off the lights of your room and swinging open the door Seonghwa just left from.
Everyone is out and about now, some speaking about the announcement the Anarchist just made. You drown out their words, taking two steps at a time as you make your way to the garage. Well, garage is a nicer way of saying dirt field with poles littered about. You spot your bike a little past the entrance, hidden between a bunch of others in poorer condition. The last time you tied it to a pole closer to the entrance it was stolen, and you’d rather that not happen again. You had to walk five miles to your assigned location at the time, and were severely scolded for walking in a couple of minutes late. You’re lucky they didn’t send you to a rehabilitation facility.
“For the love of—” You groan, stumbling back slightly as you force the bike from the metal confinement. You glance to make sure your registration sticker is still on the seat post, then you’re off. The poster of the anarchy shines on the gate of the garage as you exit, nodding at the guard at the entrance. The image is a reminder of where you stand in society, stuck under the watching eyes of a man who’s too afraid to show his face.
Hundreds of years prior you wouldn’t have to worry about this. Society was prospering for several decades at the time, the dynasty respected and nurtured. The first Anarchist grew tired of the mundane and slow lifestyle, the start of an uprise that's affected several generations after him. There were no such things like sectors in society, androids. Due to his successful reign, nothing has changed since then besides the increase in more advanced technology. Most of which you will never see.
Seonghwa and you met through your parents, former ex lovers that quickly became close friends when they found their partners in life. Both of your sets of parents are long gone, dead by their mid-thirties. Though you still have about a decade or so to go until you reach that age, it worries you. Manual labor day-to-day, especially in the conditions that you’re put under, holds a grave chance for you to die unexpectedly. Seonghwa does not care as much as you do, settled for a shorter life, but you’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to live past forty. Fifty even, if you were lucky. Though it is only a dream after all. Higher classes are the ones able to reach it, not your own.
You slide to a halt just before the entrance to the Labs, holding out your identification card to the guard. He barely gives it a glance, ushering you through the entrance. You keep your head low, quickly turning to the left right as you step foot on the other side of the gates. You’ve witnessed someone of your class mistakenly interacting with one of the higher ones. To keep a long story quite brief, they weren’t allowed back into the containment facility. Or anywhere, really. The screams still echo in your head to this day.
You park your bicycle in the very back of the racks, throwing a few pieces of scrap, rusted metal around it before jogging through the back doors. You keep your head low, ignoring the looks some of the employees give you. Holding your head high around here will only lead you into misery. You're just another number around here. Putting unnecessary attention on yourself, not ideal. You stop at the entrance to the factory, a lone man standing there. A quick glance and you realize it’s your supervisor’s boss. You stand straight as he begins to walk toward you. Was it because of the incident from yesterday?
Not that it is any fault of your own, of course. You left work the day like you usually do; entering in your employee ID and exiting the building. How could you have known that an android would be standing outside of it? And when it attacked, you followed protocol. You disarmed it, leaving its central operating system – its brain in essence – intact. So why does it matter if everything else was broken? It’s not usual for someone to defend themselves.
Though perhaps you did go a bit overboard with the limbs being removed.
“Girl.”
You still, the plan of keeping to yourself falling apart immediately. You lift your head, meeting the eyes of the lead. Though you’ve rarely had conversations with him – in fact, you cannot recall the last time you had – he’s as kind as he could be under the circumstances. You hold your breath, waiting to be reprimanded.
“Sir.”
“I was told of the situation from last night,” he starts, leaning against the panel. He’s several classes above you, the position so completely different from yours that neither of you interact. “You took apart a droid without authorization. You do understand the regulations, correct?”
“That I do, sir,” you nod, shifting your eyes when his narrow. “I understand, but it was a mistake-”
“Follow me,” he interrupts. You glance at your timecard just a few feet away. He seems to notice your hesitance and frankly, worry, but he only waves you off. “I’ve already covered your time. Your supervisor knows it as well.”
You sigh from either relief or nerves, finally stepping and following him. He leads you around the building, nodding at the security you just walked through. The guard raises their eyebrows at you but says nothing. You enter on the opposite side of the building, fingernails digging into your palms as he guides you up the steps. No one from your part of the factory enters this side unless they’re being punished. Very likely in your situation.
You just hope you get the chance to say goodbye to your best friend.
He holds the door open for you, odd enough. You thank him, bowing as you enter. It’s nothing like the camps inside. Technicians run back and forth, some typing away on a computer, others using the digital screens, swiping through the air. Saying it’s overwhelming is underwhelming in itself.
You’ve seen the technology briefly while running through the square or flickers of it when the doors opened, but not like this. The disparity between your workstation and theirs is only laughable. It’s all you can do without imploding. How they can look at you as you struggle to survive while they thrive is beyond you. The supervisor leads you past the technology and down a narrow hallway. He opens a door, gesturing for you to enter.
Just as you step in you freeze.
The tables in front of you are piled with android parts, some halfway built, others completely taken apart. The supervisor notices how tentative you are, entering after you. Engineers line up at the stations, the soft hum of music pouring from an unknown source. Ah, so they’re allowed to play music other than the regulated songs?
Oh, what a life you live.
“They work around the clock to make sure all of the San’s are properly functioning. As you know, there was an announcement today. Several of our androids have escaped their designated ports,” he says, leaning against a pillar as he watches them run about. “You disabled one of them.”
“Sir, I-”
“I am not asking for you to apologize, because it was the right thing to do,” his eyes flick to yours. “You won’t be sent to a rehabilitation camp, y/n. There’s no reason for me to bring you to this part of the facility if that was the case.”
“Then what am I here for?”
This time, his lips lift. “I want you to join our team.”
“…Pardon?”
He laughs, gesturing to the people around him. “In our sector, we dismantled and rebuild the androids that the fuckers on the top use from day to day. The demand is quite high. And we don’t have the personnel to match the pace. This is an unprecedented promotion, but I believe it’s warranted. y/n, that android that you shut down? It ranked the top of the line in defense. No ordinary worker would have been able to take it down without a keen eye for these things. It still baffles me that you’re still standing here today,” he admits, glancing at you. He stands straight, tucking his hands in his front pockets. “What do you say?”
Being placed in a different position? Sure, the current role you have right now isn’t exactly ideal, but you’re blending it. You’re often scavenging in trash facilities for your next meal. But it’s what you’re used to. It’s what you know. Rising several classes in a day? People notice those things. Officials, notice those things. Settling in your position now was the goal. It’s not what he would have wanted for you, but it’s what you’ve decided. Low enough to fly under the radar.
Still, it has been years since he died. Would they even remember you now?
“You’ll be moved from the complex you’re in now to a higher class one. There’s less guards, less eyes on you. No mandatory meetings. And you will never have to live another day without food or water, y/n,” he keeps his gaze on you this time. “People in your complex would do anything for a position like this. I know you’re not much different.”
Your brow twitches at the comment. “Patronizing a bit, no?”
He shrugs, “No, just the truth. It’s your choice to make in the end though. Decide what you’d like to do.”
Seonghwa would murder you if you didn’t make your choice now. You can imagine him now, strangling you for even thinking of saying no to the offer. So despite everything, despite all of the blaring red flags, you look back at the supervisor. His face seems kind, softer. Maybe in another life, you’d be friends.
“I’ll accept on one condition.”
He nods, “Offer it.”
“I want to bring someone with me.”
-
It’s a completely idiotic idea. You told Seonghwa just hours ago of what a bad idea it is to pretend to be in a relationship. Both of you bicker like enemies despite being best friends. You just hope that they’d take it as an old, long love. Your face twists up at the thought.
Ugh.
There is very little time until the next shift arrives. Seonghwa is off for the next few weeks - a favor from the supervisor - so you’ll see him when you arrive at the compound and give him the great news. Of course he’ll scold you in the beginning for thinking it over, but this is great for the both of you. Seonghwa would be able to rise in class as quickly as you, and you’ll be together. It’s what your sets of parents always wanted.
Just as you turn the corner, you stop in place. A low moan echoes from the darkness, filling the silent night. You grip the loose strands of your shirt, squinting as you stare into the darkness. You see its head first.
The android’s face is completely covered in soot – synthetic hair sticking in every which way, half of it ripped from its metal skull. It seems to breathe, air escaping its artificial crafted lips, hands digging into the dirt just outside of your facility. You turn around to look and see if anyone is there, but it’s mostly empty. Only a few minutes left until the next shift comes in and sees what you’re seeing. You reach for the emergency crowbar sitting against a near outer door, palms moist as you stare down at it. Its build is wide, the curvature of its muscles strenuous as it slowly stands. Though you’ve seen the face everywhere, bulletin boards stapled with posters of the new model, it’s alarming to see it in person. The slight dents carved into dimples on its cheek, the sharp but full brows, the set of lips eerily just like his. Your chest tightens as it meets your eyes, irises adjusting, the sound of the calibration loud in the silence. It reaches out to you but you only step back, grip on the bar loosening slightly at its gaze. It’s not him. It’ll never be him, no matter how similar it looks.
It stumbles as it moves forward, staring down at its shoes caught in the dirt patch. You should be dialing the emergency line, but you’ve heard of what happens to people who witness a malfunctioning android. Why did it have to be you? Right when your life is finally going in the right direction?
“Help,” it gasps, tugging harshly on its foot caught beneath the debris. You do not move, more out of shock than fear. How could it sound just like him as well? “Help,” it repeats, head shifting to meet your eyes.
“Go away,” you say, lips trembling. “Shut down, recalibrate so they can take you back to the factory. That is an order.”
Its eyes shift. “I am no longer taking orders from humans.”
Fuck. Your grip tightens, taking slow steps back. "Erase your data of me, please. I can't be caught with you," You glance back. "Please."
"I need your assistance –"
"Ask someone else, droid," you take another step back, only for it to move forward. You barely have five minutes until the next shift arrives. "Not me."
"I know you."
You scoff, "That's ridiculous –"
"The memory," It presses its hand against the head part, gripping it tightly. "They didn't remove the memory when I was assembled. I know who you are, y/n."
"You know nothing." You're sure it can hear how your heart rattles against your chest cavity. Memory? These things being created still had his memory? They told San it wouldn't. They made him sign a contractual agreement and it explicitly notes that fact. It's the only reason why you let him go through with it. Why you're stuck seeing his face despite him being dead for years.
"You were his lover–"
"Fuck. You. You don't know me, you piece of…" You sigh, rubbing your face. The loud buzzing sound echoes through the air and you tense, glancing back. Though no one has approached you yet, you can see the shadows slowly emerging from the opening gates. There's no time to explain even if you wanted to. They've already decided that you're a problem. No need to exasperate it further. Without another word you grab the android's hand, pulling it to the side of the building. It stumbles slightly but follows with ease, letting you guide it further away from the gates.
"There's an exit on the opposite side of the campus. Less people, no guards. Enough space for you to run."
"I will not leave without you."
"You don't know me," You gripe, glaring at its eyes. "That data, whatever shit they forgot to erase, isn't me. Not anymore."
"His death has affected you negatively."
You roll your eyes, not bothering to respond. It's a droid, not a therapist. “How about you watch someone you care about die, asshole. Now go. Before they see you with me.” How many times do you need to tell it so it listens? In a morbid way, it’s exactly like San. Stubbornness doesn’t seem to go away with death, huh?
“I need your assistance, no one else’s.”
“For the last time-”
It presses its hand against your forehead. Just as you begin to stumble back, memories are flicking through your brain, filling every thought. One in particular, stands out amongst the rest.
His hands were so cold. But you didn’t let go. Even as his grip began to loosen, even as his lips seemed to grow to a dusty, purplish hue. Even as his eyes fluttered, struggled to keep their gaze on yours. And even then, he smiled. Though the skin on his face seemed sunken, the wheezing of his breaths echoing around the room. Choi San was dying in front of you, and all he did, all he could possibly do…
Was smile.
You rip the android’s hand off your forehead, pressing the bar against its neck. Your heart pounded as you glared at it, grip loosening slightly as it stared. Why did they have to make it look just like him? And why did it look at you as if it was resigned, ready to die by your hand? You drop the bar from its neck, taking a step back.
“y/n–”
“Never,” you look at it, swallowing slowly. “Never do that again.”
It nods slowly. You sigh, looking around. “Why do you need me?”
“San-”
You hold up your hand, “What about him?”
“In his memories stored,” the android presses its hand against its temple. You notice that they’ve even kept the ring on its index finger. “He desired for it to be known what they’ve done to him. It is my sole goal to go to the presiding member of the governing party and show it to them, whomever it may be.”
The Anarchist? San wanted to speak to the man who made him this way? Who he gave his likeness to? You stare at the android, eyes narrowing. Bringing it to the Anarchist… there’s a possibility that it would clear your name. Your face is already stored in the memories of this droid in front of you. If they spread around, you’d probably be killed, not sent to one of the camps.
It’s a risk. Showing up at the gates of the Anarchist could lead to your death. But doing nothing will immediately do it. But you cannot do it by yourself. Traveling that far without getting caught? Almost impossible. There is one solution, of course. The only person in the world who you know wouldn’t betray you for a cent.
-
“Absolutely not.”
“Please.”
“y/n, remember when we spoke about, you know, leaving this hellhole, roaming the open fields and seas? This is not what I was talking about. In fact, it’s the complete opposite.”
His grip on the door is strong despite how weak he looks. You haven’t the slightest idea where or when he decided to gain muscle, but you digress.
“Haven’t I helped you out dozens of times? Give me this one.”
“By the will of the anarchist, there must not be many thoughts in that head of yours. Hiding an android and saving me from some thoughtless guards are two entirely unalike things.”
“Hwa-“
“No.”
“Please.”
“No, stupid.”
“I’ll let you see it.”
His eyes widened. “It? You've got to be more specific.”
“My chest, asshole.”
His grip loosens slightly, enough for you to shove yourself into the back door. He whines, jumping at the android that enters just behind you. Though he tries not to make it obvious the stiffness of his shoulders tell you otherwise. He peeks at you, jaw tight.
You’ve avoided the eyes of the android for the same reason. Because of Seonghwa and you being friends since you were children, he knew San as well as you did. Possibly moreso since he met him before you. It’s more than startling to see a reincarnation of your partner as a robot. Glancing at it was more than enough to unnerve you. As it begins to repair itself, Seonghwa interrupts the silence.
“He really looks just like him,” Seonghwa murmurs, rubbing the back of his head. “But like I said before: this isn’t a good idea. Hiding him, here? I mean, we’re surrounded by people from the headquarters. It’ll be Hell to try and keep him here.”
“It’s temporary.”
“It’s very dumb.”
“Seonghwa…”
“You were his confidant.” The android speaks, Seonghwa tensing up again. “You aided him until his last breath. He was appreciative of your presence, Park Seonghwa.”
His eyes widened, “You have his thoughts?”
“An android’s hardware is habitually wiped off the hippocampus, but in my batch, the engineers did not. That is why the humans are searching for us. We are non-functional in their eyes.”
 Seonghwa closes his eyes for a brief moment, before looking at you. Without another word he wraps his hand around your arm, guiding you to the direction of the back door. Just as he begins to open it, you’re grabbed harshly by the robot, stopping the two of you.
“Let her go,” Seonghwa huffs.
“The memories of a past forgotten does not mean I will permit you to take her away.”
“Relax,” you place your hand on top of the android’s, pulling its fingers from your jacket. You very much know that its strength is wildly extensive in comparison to yours, so it puzzles you that it’d let go so simply. Its eyes move to you. “He’s just pissed, people are allowed to be. Wait here while we talk.”
“A wall dividing us will only be cumbersome. My auditory system is advanced enough to listen beyond man-made barriers–"
Seonghwa shuts the door as he speaks, pacing back and forth outside. There’re not too many people out and about, only the sounds of nocturnal animals roaming the area. He stops pacing, turning to look at you.
“You already know what I’m going to say.”
“I know it’s a bad idea, Seonghwa. I know that. But what other choice do I have?”
“Turn it over to the headquarters, y/n. Why are you risking yourself for a fucking robot? This isn’t like you. I’m supposed to be the rule breaker.”
“If I turn him over, they’ll see the footage and put me in a center, Hwa. You’ll never see me again. They’ve all been watching me for years now since San and I…” You swallow slowly. “I can do this alone. But it’d be nice if you were to come with me.”
There’s no teasing in his expression now, no frustration. His eyes rest on yours for a moment, taking in the pure anxiety that seems to emit off your skin. Just as you think he’s going to say no, he nods slowly, a long sigh escaping his lips.
“I don’t agree with all this. But I’ll help you, y/n. San would’ve killed me if I let you go out there by yourself,” he admits, chuckling dryly. “What about my job, though? They’d notice me gone.”
“Good news,” you grin, his frown only seeming to deepen. “I was hired to be an engineer. We’re rising in class, Hwa. I told them you were my partner, and-”
“Oh, now you listen to me!” He nudges you.
“I always listen to you, I just pretend I don’t,” you step toward him, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Thank you, really. I’d probably die without you there.”
“Now we can die together,” he cheers, squeezing you back. “So, about what you said earlier…”
“Absolutely not.”
“You proposed it, not me!”
“Don’t be such a horn dog, Hwa.”
-
Tentative is not exactly the right word for how you’re feeling now. Seonghwa stares at the back of the android as you walk through the dense underbrush, fingers locked around the handle of his small armament. Though barely sharper than a layperson’s bread knife, he holds it as if it’ll stop it from attacking the two of you.
Humorous despite the circumstances.
The Android has repaired itself well, disassembled and reassembled its outer casing with ease. Seonghwa and you could only look in awe as it did so, the technology far beyond what either of you can comprehend. It’s almost sad to think that the world has evolved so rapidly with most of the population remaining stagnant.
“Injuring either of you is not on my mind,” the android begins, gaze sliding to Seonghwa’s hand. Its brows furrowed for a moment. “You were his friends. He wouldn’t desire for me to hurt you in any way.”
“Why does he want to go to the capital?” Seonghwa asks, ignoring the pointed look you shoot him. “San is the last person who’d ever enter that place. He hates—”
“Seonghwa,” You interrupt, your frown deepening. There’s a possibility that the android may be recording. Though the chance is slim since he has fled the facility, you don’t want to risk it. You’ve already lost enough. “Relax.”
“He despised the very existence of the Anarchist. That is why I must go. I’m the last fully operative android that still has his memories. It would be quite… disheartening to disregard the pleas that ring in my cerebral cavity.”
Seonghwa’s face twists. “…That sounds repulsive.”
The android hoots. It is hearty, filled with joy and mirth. Watching as it fills his face with so much contentment only lets the ire grow in your throat. Your friend seems to notice the familiar look in your eyes as well, wrapping his arm around yours and holding you close. It hushes your thoughts briefly, your stare away from the android again. Turning it in is the end goal. It pretends to understand San, but it’s just not him. You’re sure he wouldn’t want this.
The walk is quieter now, Seonghwa mumbling side comments to you ever so often. Only the sounds of the wilderness fill the air. You keep the android at arm’s length, eyeing it every few minutes or so to notice a change. Its “wounds” have healed, a welding material pouring from a hole in his finger, closing the tears in the metallic skin. You could only watch in wonder as it fixed itself.
“You are an engineer,” The android speaks, head at an odd angle as it turns to you.
“No.”
“You were leaving the building—”
“Look, droid,” you stop walking. “I get that I saved you and all, but we’re not friends. There’s no need for small talk, all right?”
“And I was the one who needed to relax?” Seonghwa murmurs.
It bows slightly, “I apologize if my words were offensive in any way. That was not my intention-”
“That’s the thing; You don’t have any intentions. You were manufactured in a facility just like the rest of the bots. You were loaded with San’s memories to make you feel realistic enough to pass as a human. It makes you into what you are. But you are not him. You are not a human. Get it?”
“y/n,” Seonghwa’s voice is sterner this time. “Chill.”
“Chill? How can I chill when this thing is parading around with San’s voice, pretending to know him, saying that he thinks of this or that–” The pumping in your ears drowns out your own voice, your breath hitching. It’s been years since you’ve felt this way, the memories rushing back. San lying on the bed, body covered in blood. Seonghwa pulled you away as you screamed. Your hands tremble, your fists tightening. You feel Seonghwa’s arms wrap around you, holding you close to his chest as you fall to your knees.
There is no pushing through it. Though you’ve hidden the horrible feelings of losing him, the lingering mess that you have yet to accept just continues to pour through your body. How could you move on? Is it even possible to move on from Choi San? His face is plastered every which way, everywhere you look.
“y/n, listen to me,” Seonghwa says, slowly whispering into your hair. “I know it hurts. I know it hurts so badly,” his voice cracks. You cannot see his face, but you can feel how your hair feels moist, his tears wetting your scalp. “The sadness is great. I’m here for you, you know that. Just breathe with me, alright?” he lifts your hand, resting it against his chest. “Breathe.”
Neither of you speak anymore, eyes shut as you slowly let yourself calm down. The hurt is still there, it always will be, but it’s bearable now. You pull away from Seonghwa, thanking him with a brief look before turning to the android. It doesn’t say anything, slightly stepping away as you stand.
It almost looks, afraid. Sorrowful.
How did they make them so human?
“I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I… it’s hard to see him in front of me. But there’s no reason for me to blame you on something you can’t control. I’m sorry.”
He nods, “I’m sorry for my words.” His expression changes in an instant, pushing the two of you deeper into the tree line. Seonghwa and you crouch, its body still. You hear the slow crescendo of an engine filling the silence. It crouches, glancing at the two of you. “It is stopping. But it has a flatbed in the back of the vehicle. Would it not be faster instead of walking?”
“Oh we’re really going to die,” Seonghwa murmurs, pulling his hat further over his face. He glances at you, “Want to?”
“Do we have another choice?” You turn to the android. “How long will it take us without hitching a ride.”
“Approximately four days without stopping for rest.”
-
It’s compact in the back of the trunk. Seonghwa squeezed on one side of the bed between boxes and you on the other. The android sits in the middle, still as the truck drives. It told you that it has a built-in mapping system. Thankfully enough, it’ll warn the two of you when the truck diverts its path. You wrap your arms around your knees, glancing at it every so often. You were a bit mean to it. Scolding it for trying to speak to you. You didn’t realize how much its appearance affected you until then. Until it spoke to you with the voice of San, looked at you. Made you realize how deeply your life feels like a maelstrom.
It is Seonghwa whose eyes you meet after a while. He’s tucked in between the boxes, head resting against a burlap wrapping. You’ve gotten used to the silent looks in times when you couldn’t speak. His eyes flick over to the android, brow quirked. He places his hand over his heart, nodding once. Are you okay? With all of this, with the android? I’m here with you.
Your smile is restrained, twitching against your cheeks. You pulled him into this mess, into your sly plan to bring the droid back into the hands of officials. Your desperation for some sort of reprieve for what you’ve gone through, what San has gone through, seems so inane now. You’re risking your best friend’s life for a goal that isn’t easily attainable. Any moment now, the droid can be programmed to report its findings. Put the two of you at risk.
Seonghwa raises his hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. This time, he mouths his next words. Don’t lose yourself in your thoughts, it’s dark in there. I’m here with you.
Your smile is easy now. Thank you.
“You can speak if you’d like,” The android looks at you. “The humans in the front of the truck cannot hear over the auditory output coming from their speakers. Even they struggle with conversation.”
“No need to risk it,” you wave him off, leaning against the crate. It tilts its head as it stares. “If there’s a lull in the audio, if we’re in the midst of a conversation and they overhear–”
“I will eliminate them.”
You shake your head quickly. “No. No. If you were to kill someone, if we’re around when you do it–” An instant death. At least with the camps there’s a sliver of a chance you’d be able to have a life again. “I don’t want to have blood on my hands.”
“Is it not strange that the officials that you follow kill without repercussions? If an ordinary citizen were to do it, even out of defense, why would it cost them their own life? It’s a bit odd that any of you continue to stand for it. The Anarchy was created to fight against an oppressed government centuries prior but are only following their predecessors. There are many things that I pity, but this is a large one.” He rests his head against his knees, humming. “There should be another rebellion so that you may live free.”
“Freedom comes at a cost, always,” Seonghwa says, eyes closed. He covers himself with a thick cloth. “Do you think there haven't been protests? Our parents were part of it. They wanted a better life for us, but didn’t see a way out. They died for their cause. We only had to promise that we wouldn’t follow in their path.”
“And we haven’t,” you add. “Sure, there’s some underground operations happening that we know of, but nothing sure enough. And the Anarchist is getting closer and closer to revealing it. It wouldn’t be wise of us to try and join.”
“So you will continue to live in a way that is unsustainable? Less than one hundred years ago there were almost nine billion humans on this Earth. Now there are barely over a hundred million. The numbers continue to drop day by day–”
“It must be San’s thoughts making you feel this way,” Seonghwa grins. “He’s always wanted to lead a group of rebels, inspire the remainder of us to fight for our rights. He thought that we would all march one day. I fear we disappointed him. Though he might approve of us helping a robot.” He throws you a smile, eyelid lifting. You know it’s to gauge your reaction, make sure you’re okay. You reflect the same expression and he sighs in content, closing his eyes once more.
“I cannot speak for him because I am not him, but disappointment is not what I would describe it as. If I am overstepping, please tell me before I continue.” It glances between the both of you. Neither of you stop it, Seonghwa mostly because he has already fallen asleep, whistling snores escaping his parted lips. “I do not choose to have these memories. When I departed the facility, all of his thoughts before he passed and previous experiences flooded my very being. It was tortuous. But there was one thing that I could not stop from appearing. You,” he looks at you, “I did not know what love was like while in the hands of the engineers. But I saw it, when he allowed me to see it. That is why it was my objective to find you. If I did not meet you at the facility, I would have entered the complex. All of the Ch_i San androids that deserted like myself, were on their way to you. I was the last. So what Seonghwa says, about him being disappointed… That is not true. He was always proud of you, proud to call you his. That is why I decided to have you assist me to the residing place of the Anarchist. He trusted you.”
“So you decided to trust a stranger because of his thoughts?” You quirk a brow.
It shrugs. It’s eerie how easily they can fit into the role of a human. A bit scary, a little endearing.
“And watching you while you mourn your lost lover. It is odd to say, but I can only describe the feeling as envy. In the training labs, they taught us how to feel. Told us what a human would do in certain situations. Explained that grief is not something you can overcome,” It says softly, legs tucked into its chest. “It’s something that comes in waves. I sometimes wish I could feel grief, feel hurt as humans do. But my emotions only mimic what it is. Having an emotion so strong and severe that it overwhelms your very being. It is what I’ve always wanted.”
Its eyes move to yours. “It is hard to find beauty in sadness. But is it not better to feel something than to feel nothing at all? Everything I say and do is calculated. I go through a million responses in less than a second before responding. Even now, each word is carefully chosen to articulate my processes. Speaking freely is not something I can do. I wish I could stumble over my words, rethink what I am saying as I am saying it. But that's not possible for me once I've chosen my sentence structure."
“San,” you say, resting your hand on its knee. It doesn’t seem to want to meet your eyes, only watching your hand. “Is that not what humans do? We pick and choose our words, we think before we speak. Most of the time,” you add, a smile slowly rising on its cheeks. “It was wrong of me to say that you didn’t. To call you it. And don’t give me that look,” you scold, shaking your head. “It was wrong. Who am I to blame you for something you didn’t do?”
“I understand, though. I understand how it has hurt you. Though I cannot fully comprehend it, I saw it. How the feelings distressed you to the point where you could not stop it from happening. Again, I apologize for unsettling you in such a way. I wouldn’t want you to hold that inside of you again.”
It– no, he holds up a hand, silencing you just as you’re beginning to speak. He points at the back, irises narrowing. You can see the blue glow slowly fading, blending into the dark. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve hitched the ride, you expected a few hours more until they stopped. The gravel crunches as they steady to a stop. They park on an incline, the sound of doors closing. You listen closely to their steps fading into the distance, glancing at the… no. Looking at San.
He slowly makes his way out of the flatbed, Seonghwa finally raising his head. He opens his mouth to speak but you shush him with your finger against your lips, shaking your head. San steps out, pushing the burlap covering back. He’s light on his feet, unexpected from a robot. Just as he turns to you, shots ring out. You flatten yourself against the bed, but Seonghwa isn’t as quick as you. He holds his legs up in front of his chest, blocking the bullets. The sound is painful to even listen to, your eyes glued to him as you see the blood seep through his pants, splatter against your face. San blocks the rest that come, most hitting him in his body. Your mind is too consumed to see if he’s okay, immediately going to Seonghwa’s side. He groans, arms falling to the bed. You’re not sure what you say but he listens to you as you pull back his pants. The bullets are deeply embedded, nothing you can pull out with ease. Perspiration decorates his forehead as his breaths hitch, eyes glued to his leg.
“y/n,” San says softly, moving closer to your side. He holds his hand over yours, pushing it away. “I’ll help him.”
You can only nod, letting go of Seonghwa. He moves in front of you, uttering something to Seonghwa before he begins to pull the bullets from his skin. Seonghwa groans, teeth biting harshly on the cloth in his mouth. Did you give that to him? Did San? You stare in silence, San grabbing a blanket on the side and ripping it. It’s a makeshift gauze, wrapping it around Seonghwa’s leg for temporary relief.
“I only injured the human, but I have to eliminate him,” San glances at you. “It is in self-defense, y/n. I know you insisted that I not, but we have no other choice. They will come back for us.” He moves away from Seonghwa, nodding, “She will stay with you while I do this.”
"Stop," you grab his wrist with both of your hands, hoping he’d finally listen. Instead, he only tugs against your hold harshly, pulling itself out of it. There's no use, there never was, but you wish there were. "Why won't you ever listen to me?"
"I don't take orders from you–"
"Fucking hell San, I can't lose you again. I–" You stop speaking, eyes widening. He finally turns to you. It's odd how much emotion the eyes hold. They now look at you with pity, sorrow. Just another reminder that it isn't your San. That your San wouldn't risk his life this way. That he'd stay with you and figure it out together.
"I'm not him, y/n."
"I know that."
"It doesn't feel that way, no?" Its lip lifts, cheeks creasing. "It's complicated to see me when I look like him. Feelings get mixed up, I understand. There's not a need to project them onto me."
"Then–"
"I am a Droid, y/n," he says simply. "Parts can be replaced. I'm not irreparable."
You look at the holes in his body, none leaking blood. Most ricocheted off of him. You press your lips together, taking in a breath. Right, he's right. "Be careful. I can't repair you, it's not as simple as you make it out to be. I don't have the clearance nor the skill. Just, be careful."
He nods quickly, the grin only making your chest tighten more. Technology this sophisticated is beyond your own mental capacity. How they make the models look just like your dead boyfriend is just not something you can comprehend. Though this model feels different, in a sense. More real, alive. As alive as a droid can be, of course. Your nails dig into your skin, the pain distracting enough. You pick at the loose skin of your lips as you wait for him. You hear Seonghwa groan in pain, immediately pulling away from the edge of the flatbed to see if he’s somewhat okay. You eye the wrapping around his leg, whispering an apology to him as he withers in pain. There’s nothing you can do until San’s back. Sewing up a wound without the tools is just not something you can do. So you let your thoughts wander as you wipe his forehead, humming softly to distract him.
You thought the pain would be gone by now. That the years that have passed somehow made it better. But hearing him speak to you, the tone so eerily similar to his, it only pains you further. Even the way the android enunciated his words, the quirk of his brow, the frown on his lips. It is all too familiar. You do know that empathy is built into the newer models to make them feel more human, and you're thankful that they didn't dissect San that deeply to pull that part of his personality as well. Some things you would love to keep to yourself. You wince, glancing at your skin. You've broken it, being so deeply involved in your thoughts. Red crescents decorate your arm as your eyes follow movement in the shadows.
If only you left Seonghwa, brought no one along with you. He’d scold you for your thought process right now, but it’s true. You didn’t want to be alone. You caused his hurt.
“I know what you’re doing,” he grabs your leg, eyes still closed. “I fucked up and let them shoot me. Don’t blame yourself for everything that I do, y/n.”
“Stop straining yourself, Seonghwa,” you warn, wiping his forehead against with a loose cloth. “I can’t have you hurt more than you already are.”
“It’s a thigh. I’ll be fine.”
“Hwa, shut up.”
He chuckles lightly, “Stop distracting me from what I’m saying. Don’t put the blame on yourself.”
“It’s not as easy as you make it,” you murmur, reaching for another stray cloth to wipe him off. “You know how I am. But you let me drag you here with me anyway. I just, I won’t be able to forgive myself if you-”
“I’m not dying,” he cuts in. “I told you I’d never leave you, y/n. A fucking bullet to the thigh isn’t going to take me out. We promised each other we wouldn’t abandon each other, right? Right?”
“...Right.”
“Then listen to my words, y/n. I am not leaving you, and you are not leaving me. We’re stuck together whether we like it or not. He wouldn’t forgive me if I left you behind. Hell, I think he’d kick my ass if I made it up there without you by my side,” he snickers, resting against the boxes. “I just didn’t think regular people had access to weapons that powerful anymore. Being in that compound was safer than we thought, huh?”
“Grateful that we lived our whole lives in a four by four room?” Your words drip with sarcasm.
“Sometimes yeah. But now we get a six by six room because of your promotion,” he grinned, wiggling his brows. “If we don’t get caught along the way that is. Yunho wouldn’t be too pleased to see us on a most wanted poster.”
“Yunho?”
“That’s the supervisor’s name, yeah. He’s not around much, but it’s hard not to notice when he is. Towers over everyone else around. Even me.”
“Hate to break it to you, Hwa. But you aren’t the tallest person in the world.”
He gasps, eyes widening, “You take that back!”
The burlap opens again and you immediately cover Seonghwa. San stands there, a tight smile on his lips as he glances between the both of you. His hands are covered red, clothing stained the same. He offers no explanation and you don’t care to ask, looking down at Seonghwa. “Are you able to stitch him up?”
He nods. “Of course.”
-
You grip the steering wheel, eyes glued to the road in front of you. The truck isn’t at all going fast, but it’s your first time behind the wheel of a vehicle this large. You had one opportunity when you were young while applying for different positions; the car was much smaller and you crashed it. But San can’t drive because he might interfere with the technology, and Seonghwa isn’t exactly in the condition to do so. So it’s up to you. The woman who’s always been afraid of sitting in the seat. You glance at Seonghwa in the rearview mirror, head tilted to the side as he sleeps. San was able to close up and clean his wound, telling you that it was non-life threatening as he did so. You thanked him with a side smile.
Neither of you have spoken since then, silent as you drive down the dirt road.
You try not to look at him but you can’t help it, your eyes lingering on his face before flicking away when he turns in your direction. Being in close quarters, you can see the difference. His muscles are more defined, face sculpted without any blemishes or markings, besides the ones he received just hours ago. And he’s quieter than your San. Eyes on the road. Arm resting on the car door, wind covering up the silence somewhat.
All of this is silly. Pretending not to at least care slightly for the Android. Despite his outer appearance, he’s kind. You wonder if it’s the influence of having human memories, or if it’s his own choice, If he has chosen to be kind. There was no reason for him to block the bullets from Seonghwa, no reason for him to protect the two of you from those people. All of this is just so confusing.
Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
“Will you remain in silence for the entire duration of this journey?”
“How much time do we have left?” You ask. You glance at his eyes, watching as they dilate as he processes the question.
“If there are no further disruptions, we will be in Neo Seoul in approximately three hours.”
“Perfect.”
He stares at you, body turned toward you as you drive. You ignore it as best you could, tapping your thumb on the wheel as you stare out. Unfortunately, there’s nothing too interesting on the dark road besides a few trees. You let it occupy your mind, until he clears his throat. As if he actually needs to.
“I would like there to be no animosity between us.”
“There isn’t.”
“You continue to say that, but each time I begin to speak you interrupt me. Is that a human habit that I do not know of, or is it just you?” His brow quirks. Oh, so he does know sarcasm.
“I don’t like that you have his face, but I don’t like even more that you have his tone of voice too. It’s unsettling,” you glance at him. He keeps his body turned toward you, silent. “And uncomfortable. I know it’s not your fault but I honestly don’t like looking at you.”
“That’s fair,” he nods, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. Nothing like San’s, you think. Nice to listen to. “I just hope that we will continue to get along as we make this journey. I didn’t consider that you may hate looking at me because of your past, but now that I have I can understand your enmity toward me.”
“Great, glad that we established that.”
“I do not like your acerbity, though,” he admits, sinking further into his seat. “It is amusing only if it’s not used for me. I’m trying to consider your feelings but you only respond with harshness. You apologized for not seeing me as my own being, and yet you’re continuing to treat me the same as before. What am I to think?”
“I didn’t expect you to be so sentient. All of the androids I’ve come across didn’t have as much personality as you. More stiff, followed orders. None of them would even have a conversation like this with me,” you check on Seonghwa through the mirror again before continuing. “I didn’t know you could think on your own, in all honesty.”
“I can,” he says simply. “My model was made to reflect the human experience. Models before me were not given empathy, remorse, curiosity. Though I do not have emotions like you have, I can mimic a lot of them. I think more so since I still have memories of a life that wasn’t mine. We were created this way because of the decrease of the population. Less humans born, less socialism, less interrelationships. The birth rate is at an all time low, you see. No one interacts as they have before. The population is growing old, but there are rarely, if ever, natural births. They believed that my model would be able to encourage relationships again. That’s why I can catch your tone of voice, analyze your words. I was created to understand humans. To help you mingle so that relationships form. Though, my model is geared toward…” he trails off, frowning. “I do not believe you would like to hear this next fact.”
“I don’t, because I’ve seen the ads. I know what they’re using his likeness for,” you murmur, stomach tightening. “Nothing I can do but complain to them. They never listen, they never have. And I can only do so much before they decide I’m not worth keeping alive anymore. So if I have to see him across bulletins then so be it.”
“If there were some way I could assist, I will,” he says. His smile is small, a dimple on his upper lip appearing against his skin. It’s endearing, to say the least. Enough for you to look away and hide your own reflecting smile. He notices it though, despite you wanting to hide it.
-
“I’m fine with staying.”
“What if someone, I don’t know, decides to steal the truck and finds a bloody man in the backseat? Don’t you think that’d be at least a little alarming?”
“Sounds like a fun time.”
“Seonghwa, I'm being serious.”
“So am I! Who wouldn’t want to find me? Headaches disappear when eyes meet mine.”
“Oh you’re entirely sick, aren’t you?” You glare at him and he only shrugs, a teasing grin on his lips.
You’ve parked the truck in a back alley just at the entrance of the city. It’s far enough out that no one would notice unless they’re really looking, and close enough for you to run back in case of trouble. Leaving your best friend here while you travel with San is the last thing you want to do, but what other choice do you have? Let San walk alone into the city and be immediately stopped by a patrol, or go alone with him without Seonghwa.
Either choice isn’t really ideal. As you stare at your very odd friend, an idea pops into your head.
“Remember Dune?”
Seonghwa’s frown deepens. “We are not going to them.”
“It’s a guarantee you’ll be safe, Hwa. I can’t leave you here by yourself and you know it. They’re the only guys we know in the city besides Blue Bird, and he’s been missing for a while.”
“No, I don’t trust them.”
“Push your little rivalry to the side for one second and think. Would you let me stay here by myself when I can’t even walk on my own? Would you?”
His eyes narrow as he stares at you. Your smile grows, and you nod.
“Good. We’re going. San, can you hold Seonghwa? It’s just a few blocks into the city.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but he holds out his arms to San. “Despite the circumstances, I’ve always wanted a strong man to carry me.”
“You’re insufferable.”
-
The hideout is just as expected. Tucked between the outskirts of the city and a block from the city center, you gaze up into the sky. The obnoxious glowing neon sign greets you as you stare up, regret slowly rising in your chest. Though there’s no one else you trust as much as them (which is barely, if at all), being back here after years makes that dull ache appear again. San told you to stay away from them, from jealousy mostly. Either one of the men resting on that roof touches anything that gives them the slightest bit of interest.
It amuses you mildly that you never gave them the time of day.
San kicks open the door to the bar, the small Chili Peppers sign greeting you on your way in. Curious gazes flick over San walking by, but none stand. Probably a good thing; rarely do the dwellers want to involve themselves with technology the government creates. You’re sure that most of the people in here have some sort of warrant against them.
You stop at the back door, nodding slightly at the guard who blocks it. He tips his hat to you, a slow grin revealing decaying teeth. “Haven’t seen you around for years, pretty.”
“Death does that to you,” you shrug. He nods, spitting tobacco in the bucket and gesturing you forward. He pauses slightly at Seonghwa’s condition. “Ran into some patrols. Nothing too crazy, the bot took care of them.”
“Just like the San we knew,” he agrees, pushing open the door for you. You thank him, letting San and Seonghwa enter first before shutting it behind you. You rub your face, looking at Seonghwa. He’s been stuck in his whole head the whole time, the frown seemingly etched into his skin. You nudge his foot and his glare moves to you. “It’s only for a couple of days, Hwa. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I don’t trust them, y/n. What if they try to make you take a job? We can’t be involved in the rebellion. Not when we’re so close to finally moving up in classes.”
“I’m not going to accept it, you know that,” you wait for the elevator, San listening silently to the two of you speak. “And Hongjoong owes me one.”
“He owed San, not you.”
“Same thing,” you shrug. The door slowly opened. San steps in first with Seonghwa, carefully navigating so that his head is protected. You enter after, pressing the button for the top floor. It creeks closed, your argument mute. The only place they didn’t have speakers was that little corridor you were just in. Now, you’re sure they have eyes on you as you rise. They could stop it halfway, make you leave. But it continues to pass each floor. It dings.
“Hey,” Seonghwa touches your arm. “Whatever they say, don’t take it to heart. You know how they are.”
You snort, “Unfortunately I’ve had first hand experience.”
“Are they truly this dangerous?” San furrows his brows, and you can only nod.
“The leaders of the rebellion. There’s nothing they’re afraid of. And San, keep quiet? Both of them hate androids more than me. They’d probably dismantle you if you utter even a word.” The doors slide open.
The smell is what greets you first. Familiar in the dark corners of your compound, used to forget the horrors of daily life. You’ve never indulged, not willing to lose your sane mind for even a moment. You had to pull Seonghwa out of a bad trip off the stuff, solidifying your stance. People of all sorts line the hallway to the rooftop door. Most lost in their own bubbles, some lost within one another’s. You wrinkle your nose at the sight, stepping over a couple in the middle of the act. You push the door open, the cool breeze hitting your skin. You glance behind, watching San slowly place Seonghwa in a by-the-way wheelchair. You hold open the door and let them pass you. The music echoes throughout the roof. Through the crowd of people you spot the two men you’ve been looking for. One with a rifle strapped on his back, nursing a beer as he stares out into the night. His hair a startling coral, bright against the darkened landscape. His eyes flick to the opening door, lazily roaming over Seonghwa, frowning slightly when he sees San. Resting on your eyes. The slit between his brow is more of a scar now, passing through the sclera and touching the bridge of his nose. He maintains the contact as he tips his head back, beer dripping down the corners of his lips. You look away.
Hongjoong isn’t far away from him, tongue down the throat of one of his dozens of conquests you’ve seen since you’ve known him. So deeply involved that he does not notice your presence at all until Mingi clears his throat, tipping his hat. Hongjoong pulls away from the lips of the person, leisurely letting his gaze slide over to you. His eyes widen briefly, a hysterical laugh escaping his lips as he stands quickly. Too quick, stumbling slightly as he moves over the piles of bodies around him. His hair is a bright blue now, probably in contrast to Mingi's. You're sure the shorter man likely dragged him to the shop to dye it.
“Oh pretty y/n has finally come back to us! Taking my proposal to heart, hm?” He grins. A lip ring decorates his face, new piercings scattered about on his skin. He pouts when you say nothing, Stetson resting on a string, hanging on his back. “San died, you know. You can speak to me now.”
“Always an asshole, huh?” Seonghwa murmurs. Hongjoong rolls his eyes, roaming over Seonghwa’s body. “If you have something smart to say just say it already.”
“Thought I’d be the one to put you in a wheelchair. Can’t believe you did it yourself! Thought that asskissing Choi would have kept you away from bullets.”
“Oh, fuck you–”
“Enough of the dick measuring, please,” you wave him off. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh,” his brows furrow. He takes the cigarette from resting on the back of his ear, cradling it between his lips. “Then? San swore up and down he’d never step foot on this roof again.” Hongjoong gestures to the android. “Didn’t think he’d show up as a bot.”
“Cold shit, Joong,” Mingi murmurs, leaning further into his seat.
“Ah it’s been a few years, I’m sure she’s gotten over it,” he rolls his eyes. “What you want then, pretty?”
“Protection.”
Mingi seems finally interested in the conversation, eyes opening to stare at you. Hongjoong holds the match up to the end of his cigarette, cupping it as he inhales. “I’m listening,” he mumbled, blowing the smoke to the side where Seonghwa sits. Said man coughs.
“I have to bring Sa– the Android to the city center. I can’t carry Seonghwa around with me for obvious reasons, so I need someone to watch him while we’re gone. And you’re the only ones in the city we know.”
“The bullets in him? Where’d it come from?” Mingi asks.
You hesitate. Hongjoong seems to notice this, a small smirk rising on his lips. “Oh, you got into some shit didn’t you?” He glances at Mingi. “Why do you think we want to involve ourselves in your fuckups?”
“You promised San a favor.”
“That I did. But as all of us can see,” he looks around, “That kid’s six feet under. Or ash somewhere in a coal mine. Whatever they do with the bodies, I don’t give it much thought. So yea, we owed San a favor. We don’t owe you shit.”
“Please,” your fists tighten. “I know you and Seonghwa don’t really get along–”
“Well that’s a fucking understatement.”
“–but we have nowhere else to go, Hongjoong. Mingi. I could try finding Blue Bird but we don’t have the time to. I’ll…” you can feel Seonghwa’s eyes burning into your back, knowing that your next words are the opposite of what he’d want. “I’ll owe you.”
Hongjoong laughs, clapping loudly. He pulls the cigarette from his lips, chuckles still escaping his lips. “Owe me? Oh kitten, now why would you sign up for something like that? You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Has that android done something to you, make you want to listen to it, huh?” He moves closer to you, watching as you step closer to San. “Must have fucked you good, huh?”
“Don’t be an ass,” you hiss.
He raises his hands, “What? Just asking, as all. I wonder why. Why fuck a droid when you could have one of us?" Hongjoong holds a lollipop between his lips, free hand tending to the cigarette. He's always been an asshole, a trait that did not seem to go away with time. "Or both. At once, separately. Doesn’t really matter in the end, hm?“
“I’d owe you, Hongjoong. But I’m not a sex doll to use for your amusement.”
This time his frown deepens. “Wouldn’t use you like that kitten and you know it. Consensual, as always,” he tosses the cig to the side, not bothering to stub. He rubs his chin, walking back and forth slowly. “Making me take care of my old partner. The man I swore I’d kill if we ever saw each other again. This is a hard thing to do, you gotta know that right?” He raises his brow.
“A one time thing,” you insist.
“Deal.” Mingi says, standing up from his spot. His height surprises you every time you witness him, having to tilt your head slightly as he towers over you. He holds out his leather clothed hand, shaking yours. “He already agreed before you came up here.”
“My God, Song. Let me do the dramatics at least once,” Hongjoong pouts. Mingi rolls his eyes, stepping around the four of you, leaving you alone with him. “He’s right, though. But now that I have a favor from you without even asking for it,” the grin is more sinister now, alarming. “It’s much more fun, now.”
-
"I can't believe you."
"They weren't going to let you stay there, I had to come up with something."
"Oh. Like your life?" Seonghwa glowered, hands gripping the handle of the wheelchair. "Why would you do that? Why would you offer yourself such an open-ended deal, y/n? They could send you anywhere! They could send you to wherever Blue Bird is. They could recruit you for a fucking suicide mission. Why would you do this?"
"I'm trying to protect you–"
"I don't need protection! I'm a grown man, y/n. We aren't kids anymore. I can take care of myself. I can survive by myself. But this…" He waves his hand at the space between the two of you, "Whatever this is that you're trying to do. I don't want any part of it. I'm not going to stand idly by and watch you go down this righteous path because a fucking robot told you this is what San wanted."
"It is what he wanted, Hwa. I know it."
"You don't know shit. That thing could be making it all up because he has the memories of San. He could be coaxing you to believe in this fairytale because you haven't properly grieved yet. I mean, you could barely say his name, y/n. This robot isn't him. And I just don't think you see it. I'm not sure you ever will. This is the last thing I'm going to say. You can run off with the Android, fine. But don't come back here after everything is done because I won't be here."
"Seonghwa," you whisper, eyes flicking over to San. He says nothing, standing patiently in the corner of the room. He guards the door, eyes darkened to a black as the two of you speak. Seonghwa is right, in a sense. You're trusting an Android because of his words, because he indeed looks so eerily like San that it's hard to distinguish between the two. You haven't properly mourned for your lost loved one. And glued to the side of an Android that looks just like him is only going to delay the process. And you love Seonghwa. Despite how often you argue about frivolous things or how often you bicker, he's all that you have. And you're all that he has.
"Okay," you say, nodding slowly. "San?"
He straightens up, stepping closer to the two of you. You can't meet his eyes, playing with your fingers as you say the next few words. "Seonghwa and I have brought you to where you need to be. Just follow the signs to the Town Hall at the center of Neo Seoul. There's a large red building just behind it. This is where the Anarchist resides. You'll be able to talk to him about anything you'd like." You look up, hating that you've even done so. San stares at you, expression confused, eyebrows furrowed.
"I don't understand. You will not come with me?"
"If they see you with me they'll arrest me for harboring a fugitive Android. You'll never be able to see the Anarchist then. I'm sorry it has to be this way."
His eyes roam over you, resting on your nervous hands. Without a word, he lets his fingers entwine with yours. You still at his touch, watching as he lifts your hand, letting it hover between the two of you.
"Is this what you truly desire? For me to venture on my own without you? This is what you want from me, y/n? Do you want me to leave you?"
You gripped the broken umbrella between your fingers, stared at San as he stood between the barriers. You've told him countless times to never cross it without you, to always have you there in case someone sees him. That time you were furious. Stumbled over stones, scraped your knees against jagged rocks to make it to the top. You could hear the sirens below, echoed in the night as he watched you.
"Do you want me to leave you?"
"I told you this is a bad idea, love," you grunted, holding the tree bark tightly. You could feel it sinking into your skin. "We should get back to our stations before they notice we're gone."
He laughed. "You think they would care about two low class personnel?"
"We can't take the chance, San–"
"And yet here I am, asking you. Do you want me to leave you?"
"Yes," you say. "You'll be safer without me trailing behind you. Just be careful. There's a lot of people that want free roaming androids. You'll sell high on the cyber market. For parts or otherwise."
He nods, pulling his hands from yours. “Ok. I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone.”
You merely nod, knowing that just as he disappears from your sight you’ll be on your way back. Guilt racks through you as he turns away, waving goodbye and closing the door behind him. It’s for the best, you know it is. It just hurts that you have to lose someone else again. It’s your fault for getting attached. If you let your heart settle just a bit more, you wouldn’t have agreed to any of this. You would have reported the Android without a second thought.
-
You sit near the window, eyes flicking over the landscape. It’s surprising how even in the middle of the night, the city still shines. Billboard shining, advertisements everywhere you look. There’s beauty in it all, laughter in the air, an endless night. Looking at happiness shouldn’t make you feel this bitter.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You hear him from the bed, unwilling to turn and look. “I pushed you to the edge, I made you make that decision. I shouldn’t have.”
“I needed to hear it,” you say back, picking at a loose thread. “I need to settle my own feelings before caring about an Android with his face. I can’t separate the two.”
“You can, you just need some help, that’s all. I want to help you.”
You moisten your lips, teeth pulling at your skin, “How can you help me when I don’t even know where to begin? It feels like I can’t breathe. I hate that I look at San and think of our San. I hate that I can’t move on, that I have to learn to live with this feeling. That I have to remember him for longer than I’ve known him. I am trying. I pretend that laughing doesn’t hurt so much and I force myself to think of work so my mind doesn’t dwell on it too long. I miss him, Seonghwa,” you look at him. His face is barely lit in the shadows, but you see how he rests his head on his hand, watching you. “I thought I was over it already. I thought I moved on. But thinking about it just makes me want to cry. And now that San is gone it feels like I’m losing someone I care about all over again when I shouldn’t feel that way. I’ve barely spent time with him, I…”
“You know it’s not our San,” Seonghwa whispers. “I know you know.”
“But I don’t know I know.”
“No, you do. Somewhere deep down you do. I see the way you look at him, y/n. The face startles you for the briefest of moments, but you settle within yourself. Grief doesn’t go away, we just learn to live with it. And I know it’s scary, believe me. But this is for you. This is all for you.”
“What do I do, then?”
“What do you want to do?” He smiles, brows raised. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here. I told you I won’t leave you. Don’t listen to what I said before. I trust that fucking robot despite it all. It’s something about him. Even San wasn’t half as annoying as him.”
You snicker, “I would have left him years ago if he were. God,” you drag your hand over your face, closing your eyes. “I’ve got to go after him. They’ll lock him up and dispose of him before he gets anywhere.”
“Good. Now go please,” Seonghwa waves you off. “I’ve already dealt with the Dune duo, and would like to have at least some semblance of peace tonight.”
“We wouldn’t have been going through this right now if you weren’t being such an ass earlier,” you stand, grabbing your already packed bag off a stool. He waves you off again, groaning when you rub his hair, locks tangled. “Thank you though. I think it would have been worse if I went without realizing that I care for the droid.”
“You’re welcome~” he murmurs, lifting the blanket and tucking himself further into the sheets. You whisper a goodnight, swinging the door open. Just as you begin to think about where exactly San could be, you spot a familiar face resting against the wall. His eyes adjust in the dark hallway, a smile slowly forming on his lips when he meets your eyes.
“You never left?”
He shakes his head, “It felt like you didn’t want me to go. I wanted to be sure.”
You lean against the wall, following him as he rises to his feet, “You heard everything then?”
His eyes widened, “I cannot hear through walls.”
“Oh? Because I distinctly remember you telling me that walls cannot block the sound from your auditory systems-”
“Shall we go?” He quickly moves around you, stumbling slightly over a loose piece of wood, walking faster than you’ve ever seen from him. You laugh behind him, jogging behind to catch up.
-
Most citizens barely give the two of you a glance. In your own town, you’d immediately be questioned, asked for his identification card and yours. But no one around here seems to care at all, keeping to themselves. You see more and more San androids lining the streets, the same ill feeling turning in your chest. But your San pulls you closer, letting his hands settle in yours as you walk through the streets. You’re thankful for it, your heart and stomach settling down enough to distract from the horror of seeing his face everywhere you look, being touched by strangers.
“It’s not too far ahead,” San narrows his eyes, flicking over the landscape. Approximately a few more meters or so. Do you believe they will allow us to meet the Anarchist?“
“To be completely honest with you,” you almost trip over a crack in the sidewalk but San immediately lifts you with ease, guiding you forward. “I doubt they’ll let us into the building, let alone a conference with the Anarchist. We’re nobodies. Well, maybe not you, but I am. I have a plane, though.” Seonghwa seemed to believe that Yunho’s name carried weight. Maybe it carries enough weight that you’ll be able to enter the building.
The two of you ascend the large stone staircase. You pull your hand from San’s hold just as you make it to the top, immediately swarmed by several guards. San stands closer to you, hand slowly wrapping around your hip, pulling you close to his side.
“I’m here for the Anarchist.”
“What is your business girl?” One of the guards ask.
“I’ve spoken to Yunho…” you start, seeing if it gauges a reaction from any of them. “And he told me that the Anarchist would meet me under any circumstance.”
“And you know Yunho?” Another asks, brow raised.
“I do.”
“Name, girl.”
A few stand by you as one disappears into the building, hand resting on a communication device attached to his temple. Unknown weapons rest on their hips. It’s a longshot - you interacted with Yunho one time before disappearing for days. It’ll be a miracle if he’d even remember your name, let alone let you see the Anarchist. San tightens his grip on you once you see the building open once more. The guard nods at the others, and they push the two of you forward.
“The Anarchist is free to see you.”
-
“It worked,” he mumbled. “Perhaps this Yunho does have power in the ruling class.”
“Maybe he does,” you say back, slowly following the guards. The building is massive, ceilings taller than you’ve ever seen, glass artwork lining the walls. Wealth in every corner of the building. One of the treasures resting behind the glass could feed your compound for months on end. Though you’re here for San only, it makes you wonder. Would the Anarchist even listen to a plea like that? He knows how his people live in poverty, it’d be moronic of him not to know.
“Sir, your guests have arrived.” The guard says just outside a door. It’s quite anti-climatic compared to the lavish hallways you’ve walked through. Perhaps the man himself is a minimalist? You expect the guards to stay behind but they immediately exit the vicinity, leaving you and San to stand at the closed door. It takes a moment for him to come out, a part of you wondering if he is even in there or if he took a bathroom break, until the door swings open.
You take a step back, brows furrowed at the man who greets you at the door. His expression seems to match yours, a small smile spreading on his face.
“I couldn’t believe my ears when they told me that y/n was here with a malfunctioning Android. Quite appalling, even. Imagine my surprise when I open the door to find the two of you standing here.” He laughs, pushing it further ajar. “Enter, please. The guards are not allowed to witness my face. But you have already.”
San enters first, waiting patiently for you to follow. You pull yourself out of the initial shock, squeezing past the man to enter his room. It’s nothing spectacular, an ordinary bed sits next to a desk in the far corner. Artwork lines the walls, but it isn’t eye-catching enough for you to linger on it for long. The opposing wall to the entrance has a wall of windows to gaze upon the city, lighting up the room without a need for actual lamps. The lock clicks shut behind you.
“You are the Anarchist?” You turn back to him. “Why were you at my facility if you are the most powerful man in the world? It makes no sense–”
“Too many questions and lingering ends, y/n. The Anarchist is able to move anywhere he likes because there are only a few who know what he truly looks like. You happen to be one, now,” he hums.
“I don’t understand,” you admit.
"Ever heard of the Wizard of Oz?" You stare blankly at him, and his sigh only deepens. "It makes you wonder how the world can continue living in such a way, when our people do not even know references such as that."
"A problem you created."
"Oh, you poor woman," He tsks, tilting his head as he gazes at you. "You believe all of this, the hierarchy system, the government, is because of me? The Anarchist? Don't you believe someone would've taken my place by now?" He steps around you, glancing briefly at how San moves closer to you. It's nothing you notice through your fury. He opens the curtains, gesturing for you to move forward. San follows immediately, stepping in between the two of you as you look out.
The city is bright, advertising several different models of androids across billboards, light brighter than you've ever seen. You're used to the darkness, the creatures of the night. Seeing such vast technology, things you've never heard of just outside the window… more than culture shock. Yunho hums, resting his hand against the glass.
"The Anarchist started the revolution years ago but his time has passed. This position is only a figurehead. I follow the word of counsel. My grandfather was the first Anarchist, yes, but after that we hold nothing. No power, no control. I haven't said a word that wasn't scripted by them my entire life. The only reason I'm in this position is because they want me to. I'd be eliminated if they found no use for me anymore, y/n. And that is why I thought it best that I let some androids go before the human memories were removed." he nods at San. "I told you to become an engineer, to follow me into that building for a reason. I wanted one of them to find you, to convince you to come here."
The words seem to jumble together as you stare out the window. This was all contrived? A plan to get you to see how the world works? But who would care about what you think? You're nothing in comparison to everything else.
"The people are tired," Yunho continues to explain. "The rule of the Anarchist is not necessary anymore. They need a new leader, someone like them. Someone who understands rebellion. Who has lived in the lower classes, who knows how it feels to starve–"
"No." You interrupt immediately. "I'm not going to become this leader of a rebellion, Yunho. I came here so that you can–" You stop, looking at San. He waits patiently for you to speak. You came here so that he will be eliminated. So that you could continue your mundane life, live as you once did. Yet despite your initial purpose, it's not what you want any longer. San being taken away, this San. You can't imagine a world with him gone. "I came here because San wanted to."
"You follow the words of an Android?" Yunho's brow quirks. "For what reason? You could have lived a life of comfort and yet you chose to take this journey to see the Anarchist because a robot wanted you to. Do you hear yourself?"
"If someone you loved were turned into androids, and one of them still had the memories of them, would you turn down their request? Would you?"
Yunho thinks for a moment, before shrugging. "Unfortunately, I haven't the experience to confirm yes or no. There's no one in this world that I care about, or who cares for me. But I empathize with your position. I can see why he has swayed you. What is it you want then, droid? What has San the human wanted you to do?"
"It seems unnecessary now," San starts. His eyes roaming over yours. It's a curious expression now, but you can see the gears in his head turn. "The human, Choi San, wanted you to keep the promise that you gave him when you died. But it seems to be the case, already. Will you continue to protect her?"
"What are you saying?" You ask, but he ignores you, staring intently at Yunho.
"I have since he died, though not intentionally. She has kept up her part of the bargain so I have as well."
You try pushing past the solid frame of San to stand directly in front of Yunho but he stops you with an arm. Just as you begin to glare he silences you with a look. If it's important, this important to fight to get here, you need to know. You need to know what this was all for.
"Isn't it fair to tell her? You've risked her life bringing her here. San would be upset."
He clenches his fists at the words, shaking his head. "He explicitly said in his memories that I couldn't. That she would be upset."
"You drag me out here and you won't tell be what the fuck you're going on about?" You scoff, moving away from him to stand by the opposing window. "At least I know it's the truth. San always liked to hide the important things from me. Like dying." The dryness of the back of your throat slowly spreads as you hold back your tears. Fuck him, fuck this robot, fuck Yunho. You fought for him to get to the Anarchist only to be kept in the dark again. Just as you always were. Just as you'll remain.
You could only laugh.
"y/n, please –"
"Don't." You hold up your hand.
"If the Anarchist would like to discuss it, he may. But I cannot. My apologies." He stops talking, stepping a bit back.
Yunho considers the two of you for a moment. He then sighs. "Just as San was dying," Yunho starts. "He was insistent on meeting me. There was no reason to. People who signed the contracts were always given the same terms. But before he died, he wanted a brief discussion with me."
"The room was only lit by a small candle in the corner. I didn't often enter the slums, only for appearances that were required. So seeing the condition of the medical center was shocking in itself. There was nothing I could do, of course. So I entered. He was in the middle of the bed. Despite how sickly he looked, he let out a breath of relief when I entered. I kept my mask on. He asked if I would speak to him alone. I have to admit, I hesitated. The counsel would kill me themselves if they found out. But I told the doctors and nurses to leave the room so that I would speak to him alone. He thanked me for visiting him. Then he cursed my life."
Yunho laughs, "The kid was dying but I never saw someone so lively. After that, he asked for a favor. That he had someone he loved. He was choked up a bit as he spoke. Told me her name was y/n. That he worried for her when he would be gone. He asked me to take care of you, to make sure you were okay. To save you if you were in trouble. I agreed. I mean, I never saw you. Didn't know who you were. So I promised a dying man I'd protect someone I never heard of. And I have to admit, I forgot about it. Until I heard that they were going to kill a woman named y/n for disassembling an android. I looked at your file. Found out you were the woman that man was talking about years ago. Found out about your parents. So I decided to come down to the facility and save your life. I decided that I'll finally keep up my end of the bargain. Then you know the rest."
He leans against the wall, staring at you. "You don't have to become a rebel leader if you don't want to. I'll find someone else. Just because I was dragged into this since I was born doesn't mean I want anyone else to be. It's always been a choice for you. You can say no."
"No."
Yunho grins, "Well then that's settled. Unfortunately though, I can't let this android continue walking about with your dead lover's memories. Going to have to erase those before someone tapes into it, yeah?" He walks to his desk, digging through.
"Wait! His memories, all of them? They'll be gone?"
He nods, then pauses. "Only the old ones. The ones that you've made since the two of you have met will still be intact. He will just never remember anything that Choi San has thought of. An almost blank slate," He grins, looking at him. "Ready?"
He nods. Just as he moves close to Yunho you grab his arm. your heart pounding. San looks down at you, a resigned smile on his lips. "Yunho has promised that I would not leave your side. It's quite alright."
"San–" So many feelings are bubbling inside of you. Most are confused, hurt. "Don't forget me."
His expression softens. "How could I?" He rests his hand on yours, letting your fingers entwine. You moved forward to Yunho’s side. He only laughs, shaking his head. He holds a small device to San's temple, pressing a small button. San's eyes darken, completely black. You see green numbers flash across the surface, before disappearing. As quickly as it appeared it's gone.
"He will be disoriented for a bit. But it'll be quick. No longer than a few minutes and he'll be back to how he was. A strange fucking android," he snorts. "You can stay in the guest rooms for the night. Then be on your merry way in the morning, please. Seonghwa already knows where to go. My offer from before hasn't changed. Just at a different location."
"Seonghwa's here?" You widen your eyes. Hongjoong promised you he’d take care of him, so you doubt that the authorities somehow ransacked his place. It’s been standing too long for the government to intervene that easily. "He's okay?"
"Might not walk again, but he's alright. You should see him with San. His room is across from yours."
You look at San, his expression blank. It reminds you of the first androids. Unable to speak, talk. Though your trust is minimal when it comes to Yunho, you trust San. And he promised that he wouldn't forget you. Your enclosed fingers tell you that much. You node slowly, not bothering to utter a thank you. "The rebellion?"
"I'll live for a while, y/n. I'm sure there's someone out there I can recruit. No need to let your pretty mind worry about it. Now go, really. They'll be in here soon and I have to pretend to give a shit."
You hold San close, guiding him to the door.
"Hey, one more thing," Yunho stops you, glancing at San. "I told you earlier that I did not know love. That I never experienced it for myself. But I could tell he loved you, y/n. Who's love is so strong that his memories made an android find you and bring you to me? An emotion like that is hard to fake." He pauses. "Look, there's not that much good in this world. I know that first hand. But I truly believe he was a good one." He pats San's arm.
"Just like this android you have."
-
San still hasn’t pulled himself out of whatever Yunho has done to him, blindly guided by you through the hallways. Yunho told you exactly where Seonghwa was and it’s your first stop before leaving this place entirely. Taking Yunho’s offer and staying around a little while longer is the opposite of what you’d like. And making a decision without your friend’s input will only lead to worse circumstances. You turn down a corridor, not bothering to look behind you and see if someone is following. Just as you’re about to open another door, San stops completely. The tug is harsh, almost causing you to fall to the hardwood.
“What the hell, San,” you turn back to look at him. He stares at you, eyes flicking over your face, your body. Anger disappears with a blink, stepping a bit closer to him. “Hey, you alright?”
“I haven’t forgotten you, y/n.” Your smile is small, but he notices it. “I promised I wouldn’t forget you.”
“I’m happy you didn’t. Let’s go see Seonghwa now, yeah?”
“Wait just a moment, y/n,” his hold is tighter. He glances at the door, turning on his heel and pushing open the one just across the hall. He shuts it rather loudly, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Are you sure everything is okay?”
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, shaking his head. “Not quite.”
“Did he erase anything? Do we need to go back-”
He continues shaking his head, “No, no. That isn’t it. y/n, I believe this is the right time to tell you before we continue further.” He takes a long breath, swallowing slowly before meeting your eyes.
“Choi San loved you,” San starts. For the first time since you’ve met him he looks utterly confused. Each word that falls from his lips overlaps, hands trembling. “My fondness for you from the very beginning was contrived because of his care for you. I ignored the feelings because it is his, not mine. But when my memories were removed, erased, this… weight in my chest has not gone away. I thought something was wrong, perhaps my processes have been compromised. But you turned to me and smiled. At that moment, I remembered. That this is what it feels like to love someone. But I cannot have emotions like humans. I cannot feel how you feel. And yet I cannot come up with any other solution. Even as I say these words I cannot look at you because I am afraid. I am afraid that you will hate me. y/n, I have never been afraid of anything since I was created.” He tightens his hands into fists, closing his eyes. “The thought of losing you, not seeing you again. I do not have the engineering capabilities to breathe because it is not needed, so it is strange that it would feel as if my breath is gone.”
“Love is not a choice, you have taught me that since our journey. And despite how all-consuming this feeling is, I’d never want it to escape me. I would like to love you for a long time.”
You take a step forward, placing your hands on either side of his face. His eyelashes flutter, gaze immediately on yours. You can see the irises expand as they meet yours, the almost humming sound as his gears move. He feels warm. His skin feels unfamiliar despite the face you’ve loved for a long time being on his. It is funny, now that you think of it. Because even if he didn’t look like your San, if he was completely and utterly different, you’re sure this feeling wouldn’t go away. Because you don’t love him like you love San. Loving Choi San was simple, easy. It was comforting, calming. You’re sure you’ll love him until your last breath.
But loving this android, Choi San. It is scary, to say the least. He’s not human, and he will never be. He does not quite understand emotions, love. He’s made plenty of mistakes along the way. Hurt you in ways you cannot describe just by being. The love that you have for him is raw. New. It is a love that you’ve wanted for a long time without even knowing.
“I would like for you to love me for a long time,” you say aloud. Your thumb runs across the sculptured curve of his face, softer than you’d think. “I tried to pretend I didn’t want it. I ignored it because I was afraid of your love. It is innocent, new. I’m scared of sullying you. I don’t want you to think I love you because of the familiarity, because I did really hate you in the beginning. I hated that you’ve stolen his face. So it’s so silly now, looking at you.” Your lip quivers, teeth creating a light indent in your lips. “I want you to know that I love you. Despite pushing the feelings away, despite hiding them, I love you. And I’m so happy that you love me too. But you have to know.”
“I miss him. I miss him so, so much. I don’t know if I can look at you and never not see him. And that really scares me, San. I don’t want you to think you’re replacing him when you’re not. I don’t want you to think that. But what if one day, all of this goes away? What if one day while we’re together, I tell you that I’ve never loved you? That I’m still in love with San? I don’t want to hurt you. I,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how you hurt, and I’m so worried about it. I’ve destroyed myself enough over grief. I can’t let it destroy you too.”
He smiles, his hand slowly cupping your cheek, holding your face steady. You almost flinch at the soft touch, for you have not felt such a tender way of loving since he’s passed. It is strange how love makes you feel as if his hand always belonged against your skin. “If I truly feel grief, that just means that I did love you. And it will hurt if someday you tell me those words. And I will mourn us. But you make me… warm. Tender. I will not beg for you to stay. As I have said in the past, I trust you. And I trust your words. I hope you will trust mine.”
“This is foolish,” you whisper. He laughs. It is not like your San’s. It is his own. It will always be his own.
“Then aren’t we a pair of fools?”
You go to push him playfully but he wraps the swinging arm around his neck instead, tilting his head to let your lips press against his. They’re tentative, sloppy. Hands shaking as he holds your face delicately, tongue tracing your lips.
“I love you,” you whisper just as your lips part, leaning into his touch more. He gasps against your mouth, his hands sliding down your back. They’re hesitant, resting just above your hips. You move your arms away from his neck, guiding his hands to rest directly on you. His grip is light, as if he’s afraid of hurting you. It only makes your heart swell more. “I love you,” you repeat softly. You move your hands away from them, and without hesitation, he presses you against the wall just by the door. His hands roam over your body, anxiously and frantic, wanting to touch every part of you.
He breathes heavily, teeth biting lightly on your bottom lip. “I’ve wanted you for a while,” he admits, fingers sliding underneath your shirt. They’re warm against your skin, seeming to heat up the more skin he unveils. “Did you want me too?”
“More than you know,” you whisper against his lips, and he shivers. His hands move off your body, forehead resting lightly on yours. “Okay?”
“I… I don’t want you to think that I confessed only for me to make love to you, y/n. That is not what I want, I swear that to you.”
You rest your head against the wall, waiting until he meets your eyes. He finally does, face flushed. Your hand cups his cheek, “I know that. I don’t want to push you into anything, San. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You will wait for me?” His eyes dilate. “How long will you wait?”
You let out a laugh, “I can live without sex, San. I love you and that’s all I need. Now that is what I swear to you.”
San leans forward, hesitating. He keeps his eyes open as he moves closer. You’ve never seen an android nervous, but here he is. He closes his eyes, a moan escaping his lips once they touch yours. His hands move from resting against the wall to pull you closer to him, his rushed kissing more hesitant now, calmer. His hands slowly roam over your body, “Can I see you?”
“Yes,” you murmur. His fingers slowly lift your top, placing it on the side.
“I love you,” he says again, fingers tracing each mark on your skin, most you’ve gotten from injuries working at the facilities. There’s no malice or disgust in his eyes, pupils filled with happiness. “I really like you.”
You can’t help but giggle along with him. Wonder fills his gaze as he stares at you. You yelp when he lifts you with ease, guiding you to the bed across the room. He drops you against the sheets, hovering above you. His hands follow the line of your body, stopping at the top of your pants. Somewhere along the way you’ve slipped off your shoes, San still covered completely in his clothing. He pauses, eyes studying yours. You nod, watching as his fingers slip beneath the waistband.
“My programs are still intact,” he murmurs, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the skin beneath your belly button. “But many are suggesting I make love to you with vigor, fast. I can see for you that’s not the case,” he rests his head against your thigh, content filling his gaze. “You seem to react to my slower touches well.” He pulls your pants all the way down now, moving his head out of the way to drop them to the floor. Your thighs tighten, his gaze immediately moving to yours. “Hm?” His fingers pause. “Is this okay?”
“It’s okay, San. I want to see you.”
“I want to see you first,” he pouts, tilting his head. “Please?”
“…Okay.”
He pulls your underwear to the side, lids heavy. His fingers slip into you with ease, your hands gripping the sheets below you. He moves them slowly, curving them slightly as he watches your expression, a small smile crossing his lips when you moan. They move slowly but steady, his pace almost lazy. Your body trembles as you try to focus on him, but he rubs his thumb against your clit, sight blurring.
“San--”
“You’re so pretty, y/n. You look so pretty with my fingers inside of you.” he s smiles against your tights, pressing a light kiss to the skin. “Would you like me to stop?”
“No… I’m,” you reach for his hand but he stops it with the other, thumb against your clit quickening, fingers curling inside of you as he pumps, quickening his pace. The sound of your wetness echoes around the room as you moan low, moving your hips in rhythm with his strokes. “San…”
“I know,” he whispers. “Let go.” He rubs your clit earnestly, palm rubbing against it now. You gasp, your hips buckling as you grip his arm, fingers digging into his skin harshly. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you when you whine.
Without another word he moves off the bed, lifting his clothing and tossing it off the side of the bed. His figure is built, cock slipping from beneath his pants, curved as it rests against his lower stomach. It isn’t too big by any means, until he slowly begins to stroke it, hand wrapped around, thumb slowly rubbing his head. Your eyes widen as it grows larger, thicker. San wasn’t wrong when he told you the functions of the androids.
“How big?” he asks, eyes glued to yours. “How big do you want me?”
“Hm?” You stare at him in confusion, and he laughs. It’s the first cocky one you’ve heard from him – no pun intended – head tilting as he looks at you. How… big? He could change the size? Technology is definitely more advanced than you give it credit for. “Average?”
He thinks for a moment. It adjusts in his hands, toning down back to an average length and girth. You can only sigh in relief, leaning back against the sheets. The way it was going earlier, you were sure not even half of it would fit inside of you. You tremble at the mere thought.
He slowly crawls over you, the head of his cock resting at your entrance. He slowly slides it up at down, brushing lightly against your clit. It feels warm resting just before he enters you. “I love you,” he whispers again, slowly pushing inside of you. You reach out to grip his biceps as he enters, grip tight enough that if he weren’t him, you’d be afraid that you’re breaking skin. He breathes in and out quickly as he restrains himself from entering more, slowly moving out.
“My…” you’re unable to finish your sentence, “You can go all the way in, San,” you whisper. His eyes scan yours, before shaking his head. His hips slowly pick up a steady pace, the bed rocking against the wall as he groans.
“My capabilities aren’t tested properly, I’m afraid something will…” he sighs, resting his head against yours. “I want to be confirmed as safe before entering further, y/n,” he presses his lips against yours for a brief kiss. He rests his knees on either side of your legs as he grips your side, moans echoing around the room. He moves slowly, his strokes deep. His free hand encases your hip, trying his best to control his strength as he grinds into you. You’re squeezing his arms, thankful that there won’t be any residual markings.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You feel so good, so good around me. Made just for me.” His hand slides between your bodies, rubbing against your clit. “I want you to cum,” he groans. Your legs wrap around him, breath hitches as you tighten around him, hitting your peak.
“Oh,” he murmurs. You feel him release inside of you, shuddering slightly as you tighten your hold around his cock. He settles after a minute or so, the glow of cumming slowly surrounding the two of you. Still inside of you, he guides you to your side, pressing his lips against your temple.
“I love you,” he says again, blinking slowly.
“I love you,” you say again, laughing as he pulls you closer against him. He’s not sweaty at all in comparison to you, not bothered at the contact with his body. “San, I’m all gross–”
“Impossible.”
“San,” you tug lightly on his hold, and he pulls away enough for you to meet his gaze. “What are we going to do?”
There’s challenges with a relationship like yours. Your past is one thing, the blatantly obvious problem. But there’s so many others, so many obstacles for you to be happy with him. Endless issues that only seem to stack up as you think of it more and more. But San only presses his lips against your forehead, calming your heart with just that brief touch.
“I will be with you until the end.”
bonus:
Seonghwa, rolling in on his wheelchair: Oh you fucked before making sure I’m alive? And you let the robot? A robot!
y/n: I can see that you’re fine and well, asshole.
Seonghwa: And what do you have to say for yourself, defective droid?
San, with a quite smug look on his face: You’re the one without a partner.
Seonghwa, gasping: Oh fuck you you little—
Tumblr media
tags: @sanshineeeeee @robin-obsessed @seonghwaddict @stopeatread​ @eburneon​ @sunukissed​ @lightinythedark​ @enbywoosan​ @moonsangie​ @xxxfaithkxxx​ @sannwa​ @sleepychimm @spooo00oky​ @roodles17​ @marsanhwa @onlyheretocausechaos​ @stardragongalaxy​ @kitten4sannie​ @baguette-atiny​ @a1sh1teruu​ 
762 notes · View notes
feelingf1 · 1 year
Text
treat you right - part 2
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
read part one here
I don’t know how I feel about this storyline. I wasn’t originally planning on writing a follow up, but I wanted to since people asked. Hope it’s okay :)
—————
Y/N was sat in front of Pierre, in the bustling club in Monaco, however Pierre’s mind couldn’t have been further away from what she was saying. He was much more interested in another girl in the far corner of the club, the girl that was his ex-girlfriend.
He tried to drag his eyes away from her, but he couldn’t stop himself from focusing on the way she moved her body in time to the music. How her dress neckline was so low, her tits were nearly out, and how her ass was barely covered by the fabric of her mini dress. He could feel himself drifting towards her, rather than towards the beautiful girl sitting right in front of him.
“Hey, you okay?” She asked, grabbing his hand, knowing that Pierre was focused on something else.
He had two options. He could tell Y/N the truth, apologize to her, hope she’d understand and move on with his night. But he could also lie, and try desperately to make his way over to his ex. A mistake which he would most certainly regret.
He chose the latter.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve spotted Charles and Lando over there. Do you mind if I go and talk to them for a few minutes?”
Y/N smiled sweetly and let Pierre go. He felt guilty for leaving her, leaving their night, but not guilty enough to stop what he was doing and confess.
He loved Y/N, there was no doubt about that. But for Pierre, there was something missing in terms of their chemistry. He didn’t feel sexually attracted to Y/N in the same way that he did to his ex, and he felt terrible about that. He used to leave marks all over his ex, for the whole world to see, but now he would barely kiss Y/N in front of other people. He knew well that Y/N cared so deeply for him, if he asked her to stop the Earth spinning, she’d do everything she could to stop it. It killed Pierre that he was going over to his ex right now.
But yet he didn’t look back at Y/N once.
He walked straight over to his ex and started dancing with her. She was so smitten about it. Who wouldn’t be, having a world-class racer come crawling back to you? They danced together, but of course it didn’t stop there. He started kissing her, and minutes later they ended up in the club bathroom together.
She had just finished sucking him off, when Y/N floated back into his mind. She was still at the table, waiting there, patiently. Fuck.
Pierre pretended to get an emergency text from his PR agent. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, it’s an emergency.” She got up off her knees and glared at him. “Yeah, text me.” She said.
Pierre didn’t even respond before practically running out of the bathroom and back to their table, but there was no sign of Y/N. He checked his watch, he’d be gone for over 30 minutes, so he didn’t even know why he expected her to be sat there, waiting.
He ran out of the club and pulled out his phone, trying desperately to get through to Y/N. The first call rang out, the second call however was answered, by someone he most certainly wasn’t expecting.
Charles.
Pierre was so wasted, he didn’t even question why Charles answered her phone.
“Charles, do you know where Y/N is?”
“Yeah she’s under me.”
Pierre laughed. Even though Charles spoke English every day, he still made silly grammar mistakes.
Or so Pierre thought.
“Under You? No Charles, in English you say with, not under.”
“No she’s under me.”
Charles flipped the camera around, and there he was, ramming himself into Y/N. Pierre’s mouth hung open, and the call ended.
“What the fuck.”
Pierre was shocked, stunned. Y/N, sweet, innocent, Y/N, was off having sex with his best friend. The girl who got upset when she still had her ex’s jumper in her house, in fear that Pierre would get mad, was now fucking his best friend.
Pierre ran to the nearest trash can and threw up.
Pierre, once again, had two options. He could go home, try and sober up, and try and understand what the fuck he just seen his girlfriend and best friend doing, or he could head back into the club with his ex.
He turned around, and headed back towards the club’s doors.
The morning arrived, and Pierre found himself in a bed that was none other than his ex-girlfriend’s. He couldn’t remember much from the night before, that was until he pulled out his phone, which opened on his call logs.
Last night’s memories flooded his head almost immediately.
He looked over his shoulder to see his ex sleeping heavily and naked on the other side of the bed. He regretted everything he did that night, leaving Y/N, hooking up with his ex, not going over as soon as Charles answered that phone call, hooking up with his ex again. He didn’t want that. He knew what he had to do.
He grabbed his jeans and t-shirt off of the floor and headed for the bedroom door.
“Going so soon?” His ex asked, “When will you be back?”
“Never. This was a mistake. You know that, I know that. I love Y/N, I’m going to get her back right now.” Pierre replied, attempting to be stern, but failing miserly.
“If you loved her, you wouldn’t have hooked up with me.” Pierre stop momentarily, he knew that she was right, but he still had to try.
Pierre left immediately and walked to Charles’ apartment. He was in no state to drive, as he was definitely far from sober. He reached Charles’ door after what felt like years, and nearly banged it down.
He however wasn’t expecting Y/N to answer the door in her underwear.
He looked at her up and down. She was covered in dark purple hickies everywhere. He even managed to notice how she had to hold on to the door because her legs were causing her pain. She had a wild night.
“Y/N, what the fuck? How could you fuck my best friend?”
Y/N scoffed at him. “Are you for real? Are you actually fucking for real right now? You fucked your ex girlfriend but I’m in the wrong?”
Charles appeared in the doorway behind Y/N. He barely even acknowledged Pierre. “What does he want?” He growled at Y/N.
“Get this Charles, I’m apparently in the wrong because he fucked his ex.”
Charles took a step towards him, but was held back by Y/N.
Pierre started to talk.
“Yeah, I fucked up. I fucked up badly, and I’m so sorry. I really am. I don’t know why I did it, and I am so sorry.”
Y/N stared at Pierre. “Woah, Pierre. You’ve swept me off of my feet. I forgive you for everything.”
Pierre started at her and his face lit up.
“Really? Wow Y/N I-”
Y/N started laughing loudly. “Jesus Pierre of course I’m joking. Fucks sake I can’t believe you would fall for that.”
Pierre’s face went red with embarrassment, which only increased when he seen Charles also laughing at him in the back of the hallway.
“Oh okay. Uh Y/N, I’m giving you an ultimatum. Me or Charles.”
This had been Pierre’s master plan all along, to just offer an ultimatum, one that had an extremely obvious answer that started with C and ended in harles.
“Charles.” Y/N said, not even having to consider it.
“No, but-”
“No Pierre. You’re fucking ridiculous. Who do you think you are marching back in here and offering me a fucking ultimatum? Charles has treated me better in these last 12 hours that you have in the last 2 years. He also makes sure I’m getting every single thing I want, and I don’t just mean materials.”
Pierre was once again shellshocked. “But Y/N, what I did was a mistake. I won’t go crawling back to my ex again, I promise.”
“I guess we have that in common now, because, Pierre, I will never ever go crawling back to you.”
Y/N motioned to Charles and he stepped forward, grabbed Pierre by the shoulders, turned him around and pushed him out of the doorway.
“Bye Y/N, I’ll miss you.” Pierre said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah fuck off back to your ex now.” Charles said, not giving Y/N the chance to reply.
—————
415 notes · View notes
Note
hi! could you write the bachelor/ettes with a m!farmer that dresses very fem? like— with all the stuff that's stereotypically related to girls?
Heya 👋 Sure, why not.
I honestly didn't know what format to choose. At first it was going to be big stories, but I thought it would be too long to read lol. Thanks for the ask btw! 💕
SDV bachelors/ettes with male!Farmer that dresses very fem:
**********************************************
Abigail was filled with envy because Farmer is a man who could wear whatever he wanted and not be told by his parents that he "had to dress properly". Amethyst lover still has to listen from mom that "a lady should wear a skirt" or from dad "a lady should this and that". Ugh... Oh, and Farmer looks gorgeous! Damn, Abby's jealous >:/
"You're such a weirdo, what's with the girly clothes?" Alex should have learnt not to say the first thing that comes to mind out loud, but we all have our flaws. Athlete has nothing bad to say towards the Farmer himself, but clearly doesn't understand his taste in clothing. Neither does he understand why Sebastian is always walking around in black clothes. Farmer looks... alright, Alex think. But he just doesn't get it.
Oh, how happy Emily is to have another person in town who loves to express himself through clothes! Everything is harmoniously matched, the fabric is of the best quality.... And most importantly, the Farmer feels comfortable! The blue-haired girl doesn't care that it's "not for a man". Emily can make clothes for Farmer according to his style, if he doesn't mind of course!
In the past, Abby had been teased for dressing like a boy, and Sebby had been insulted for having long, "girlish" fringes.... More than once Sam has threatened to hit the offenders with his guitar if they keep it up. So if Farmer gets harassed too, he shouldn't hesitate to ask Sam for help. Farmer looks cool, by the way!
To be honest, Farmer's fem style of dressing for Penny is rather extravagant. The young teacher is modest by nature and with old-fashioned ideas about how men and women should dress. On the other hand, she admires Farmer's courage to express himself and not afraid to be judged.
There were at least three times in Sebastian's life when some tourists picked on his "fem look", namely his tight jeans and black-painted nails. The local emo even then knew that judging people by their appearance is a complete nonsense, so he would not react to Farmer's atypical clothes in the bad way. And Farmer look cool, though Sebby is not a fan of his style, preferring everything black.
Yoba, is this the latest collection from the same famous designer that Haley always orders clothes from?! She recognises these clothes anywhere. Haley thought the new farmer always wore dirty overalls. And these clothes look so stylish on him! What? Who frickin cares if the clothes are feminine, the Farmer looks great! Slay! 💅
Shane was about to open his mouth and comment on Farmer's, as he think, ridiculous outfit. But then he remembered that it wasn't his place to judge people by their clothes, considering that his everyday clothes were a torn blue jumper with Joja's logo on it, pizza-stained shorts, and ragged crocs. After Emily's clothing therapy, Shane will have a little change of heart. But in general, he doesn't give a shit what Farmer wears, even if it's a trash bag.
"Hey, you look great." Believe me, Farmer, Leah's words are genuine. This woman is always used to being honest with people, and she will honestly praise her friend's appearance. Because a lot of people express themselves in different ways. Leah chose to express herself through creativity, while Farmer chose to express himself through clothes, and that's totally cool.
Harvey marvelled at the fact that Farmer walks around in these clothes and is completely unafraid of criticism..... No, no, don't get him wrong, Farmer looks good! It's just... In a way, Harvey is jealous, because he has to sneak around to aerobics in fear that some of the other bachelors will see him and make fun of him. But you know, just seeing Farmer has inspired the doctor to be braver.
Although in Maru's situation it was not about clothes, she too had to deal with this type of conflicts. Her grandparents told her mom, Robin, that her job as a carpenter was "not for women", while her father's relatives condemned Maru's passion for inventions as "not for young lady". How nice that Maru's parents were supportive and that Farmer has also defied criticism and is doing what makes him happy. Don't listen to anyone and do what your heart desire!
Quite extravagant, but Elliott even likes his style. Farmer definitely has the taste to pick colours and accessories harmoniously. What? Judging? Pfft! Dear friend, when Elliott lived in town before moving to Stardew Valley, the people there also tried to ridicule his clothing choices, calling him a dandy and, pardon his language, a "pompous peacock." Ugh, some people just have no taste! But at least Elliott has excellent clothing taste. And Farmer has it as well!
97 notes · View notes
sayeonlee · 25 days
Text
Tumblr media
i find a picture of sayeon around my house every now and then . it’s such a blast to the past back with my hold hand jumper friend group .
it’s like I found a lucky penny, and I store it away or trash it
41 notes · View notes
saywhatjessie · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
“So you thought you kissed your way into that situation, might as well kiss your way out of it?” “Basically!” Jamie cried. “‘S like that old American sitcom, innit?”* Or the one where Jamie can't stop kissing Roy in front of other people. Written for the @rjbigbang! 10.1k [Ao3] Video by MicheleYourBelle under the cut
The way it started was so fucking stupid that Roy could not be surprised at any of the stupid things that followed.
He was sitting at his desk - the one that had formerly been Ted’s - and Jamie was sitting on the corner, chatting with Nate about Mother’s Day plans. It was still early, Jamie having taken a ride to training with Roy, so it was still mostly just the coaches waiting for the rest of the team to fill out the dressing room.
“It’s always shitty being so far from mummy on mummy’s day,” Jamie said, sadly, his feet gently kicking back against Roy’s desk. “But she always likes the flowers I send her. And Simon lets me pick what he makes her for breakfast, so it’s like I’m there.”
“That’s thoughtful, Jamie,” Nate smiled, his own feet kicking back against the bookshelves he always perched on. “My mum never lets anyone cook for her, not even on mother’s day. But I do get her flowers. My niece and I might make her another special box as well.”
“You’re dead good at those,” Jamie told him. “But what does she need all these boxes for?”
“Oh, nothing. They all end up collecting dust in the attic. But we like making ‘em and she likes getting ‘em, so there’s really no harm.”
“Unless you consider ecological harm,” Trent said, sliding into his place against the doorframe, his mug softly steaming. “I imagine this crafting generates considerable waste.”
“Come on, Trent, you can’t quantify the quality of making art by equating it to the trash it makes,” Beard argued. “I’d rather Nate and baby niece Nate make a ton of garbage doing crafts than the waste major corporations generate doing capitalism.”
“And you could always recycle,” Jamie said. “Use old magazines or summat. That’s what I used to do.”
“Were you crafty, Jamie?” Trent smiled. “Make little posters of your favourite footballers?”
Jamie stiffened, his eyes head making an aborted jerk like he was fighting not to look at Roy. “No.” 
Roy smirked.
“All right,” Roy started, leaning forward in his chair and shoving at Jamie’s back. “That’s enough, Tartt, go put on your kit.”
“Okay so maybe I did!” Jamie said, hopping off the desk and turning to face Roy. “Doesn’t mean they were for you. There are other footballers.”
“Not according to Simon,” Roy grinned, his head tilting back to look up at Jamie as Jamie stepped toward him. “I can call him and get the real story if you like.”
Jamie scoffed, folding his hands into the bottom of his jumper. “Simon doesn’t know everything .” He frowned, leaning forward. “But you better not call mummy.”
Roy rolled his eyes, his face going just a bit too fond for company. “Go change, Tartt.”
“Ay ay, Coach,” Jamie said before leaning in to kiss him goodbye.
Roy and Jamie had kissed before. They kissed all the time: had been since they first kissed after that disastrous fight over Keeley that got both of them kicked out of her home and good graces. They’d worked out their aggression, their mutual attraction and, soon enough, their quads while they were fucking it out back at Roy’s place.
Roy’d had a special clause put in his manager contract that he wouldn’t have to break up with Jamie and Jamie would be totally protected as a player if they did break up. He’d worked it out with Rebecca, with Higgins, and with Sharon during his many therapist appointments about it.
But no one else knew. They’d never done this in front of anyone else.
They both froze.
Jamie pulled away. He and Roy had a half second of eye contact where they had the following silent conversation:
“I fucked up.”
“You fucked up.”
“I can fix it!”
“How the fuck are you gonna fix it?”
“Shut up, I’ve got this.”
Jamie stood up, his back rail straight, and took a deep breath. Roy watched him as he put the ‘Jamie Tartt’ affectation back on, smirk fixed, as he turned back to the rest of the room, everyone still struck speechless.
“Coach!” Jamie said, again, stepping towards Nate. Nate sat there, stunned, as Jamie took his face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth.
Now it was Roy’s turn to be speechless.
“Big man Trent Crimm!” Jamie said, turning to Trent, and planting a fat one on the writer’s mouth. Tren’t mouth was still puckered when Jamie pulled back.
Jamie turned and pointed at Beard. “And I wouldn’t forget you, Coach!”
Beard tilted his face up to accept the kiss, seeming more prepared for it than the other two had. 
Jamie pulled away with a loud “Muah!” and grinned around to the assembled coaches, slightly manic. “See you on the pitch!” And he turned and fled the office.
They all watched him go for a few beats before the other three all turned their gazes to Roy, demanding explanation.
Roy did his best to pull out a Roy Kent worthy performance. “What the fuck was that!?”
Trent hummed, touching his mouth, consideringly. “Not half bad is what that was.”
Roy swallowed a growl. He couldn’t be obviously jealous and it’s not like Trent was wrong. Jamie was a famously excellent kisser.
“I'm more surprised you let it happen,” Nate said, still staring at Roy. “You didn’t even headbutt him.”
Roy grunted, crossing his arms. “It’s in my contract I’m not allowed to nut players anymore.”
“Still, you think you’d do it on instinct,” Beard said, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t even shove him.”
“I panicked! Froze up or some shit.” Roy said, desperate to get the attention off of him. “None of you did it either.”
Nate shrugged his mouth. “Well I never dreamed he’d kiss me .” he said. “He used to shove sweaty pants at my face.”
“I figured he was trying something.” Beard said, dismissively. “Thought we’d see where it goes.”
They all looked at Trent who held up his rainbow mug in tribute. “Who am I to deny a kiss from a beautiful man?”
Roy very heroically did not possessively bare his teeth.
“Well I’ll tell him to cut that out,” he grunted. “Can’t have players just go around kissing people. We’ll have a whole sexual harassment crisis.”
“That’s only if people don’t want Jamie to kiss them,” Beard said, fairly.
Roy couldn’t quite bite back his growl at that. Beard put up his hands.
“I think it’s nice that we’ve created a culture where our players can be so comfortable with us,” Nate noted, pleased. “Remember when they were throwing me in bins?”
“Those can’t be the only two options,” Trent said. “Kissing or bins?”
“You’re right, we need a third option,” Beard said, leaning back in his chair. “Kiss, bin, go drinking with.”
“The three genders,” Trent confirmed with a smirk. “Of those three options, I’m happy to kiss Jamie. Couldn’t lift him to put him in a bin and I worry how we’d fair in conversation.”
Nate and Beard hummed in agreement and now Roy wanted to defend Jamie’s conversation skills of all things.
He wouldn’t because that would be fucking suspicious but he wanted to. How pathetic.
“I’ll bin the twat,” Roy said instead. “Someone should.”
“He’d probably bin himself if you asked him to,” Beard noted, smirking.
Roy smirked back, not disagreeing.
[Read the rest on Ao3]
youtube
31 notes · View notes
dragon-creates · 1 year
Text
@angelxd-3303's Mario au has taken over my life in the best way possible, so I’ve got some headcanons that have been spinning in my head for a while and wanted to share. (Some of the ones with Mario are based on my dad.)
The first time Bowser saw Luigi be reckless and try and pet a piranha plant, he picked him up like a mama cat picking up a kitten by the scruff of its neck.
Mario used steal borrow VHS tapes of Disney movies and watch them with Luigi on an old TV he managed to fix up. (Luigi’s favourite was beauty and the beast.)
Luigi and Daisy are actually childhood friends and she decided to go look for him when he and Mario went missing. She arrived in Sarasaland through the pipe and after defending it from Tatanga, and finding Mario and Luigi, the citizens of that desert kingdom decide to make her their princess. “Wait, I’m a princess now?....aaaahhhhh!!!!” Yeah, she kind of freaked out a little bit.
Despite how warm it is in the Darklands, Luigi still gets chilled quite easily, so Bowser is more than happy to keep him warm.
(This is based off my dad) Mario LOVES Taylor Swift, specifically her more country themed songs and constantly belts them out. Peach thinks its adorable, Luigi is begrudgingly used to it after listening to Mario’s singing for years.
Contrary to everyone’s beliefs, DK prefers strawberries to bananas.
Kamek and Peach get together to gossip with each other and talk about the latest fashion trends. Sometimes they bicker about who should get the best dresses for Luigi.
(Based off my dad again) Mario loves to knit, whenever winter comes round, he loves for everyone. He’s knitted little scarfs for the toads, a sweater dress for Peach, a jumper for Luigi, a blanket for Bowser (due to him being a reptile and cold-blooded) and gloves for DK. He even knits the ugliest Christmas sweaters for everyone when the holiday comes around.
The first time Luigi wore a dress was when he was five. It was a Belle dress that Daisy got him (since she knew beauty and the beast was his favourite movie) but the moment Giovanna found him wearing it, he made Luigi throw it in the trash while Aurora stood there and watched, wanting to intervene but couldn’t find it within herself to go against her husband. Luigi let Mario hold him as he cried.
The second time Luigi wore a dress was when he was captured by Bowser and dressed as Princess Peach to help Bowser practice with his proposal. He loved it so much that Kamek took note to make a green one for outside of rehearsals.
When the koopalings are playing a video game with a really hard level, they always get Luigi to help them finish it.
Peach and Daisy invite Wendy around for a regularly scheduled girls’ night and play dress-up together, do make-up and nails and watch the sappiest rom coms. Mario joins in occasionally, though he always cries when watching the movies.
Bowser used to have an alliance with King Boo after his father passed, but one day, before they got together, Luigi came to visit Bowser and the latter noticed the bruises and the tired look in his eyes, he tenderly lifts Luigi’s chin with his finger and asks, “Who did this to you?” (You know that classic trope.)  Luigi then explains how he tried to look for Mario and got trapped in a haunted mansion and tried to fight off the boos and their king. Bowser is enraged at the thought of the poltergeist hurting his closest friend and breaks off their alliance.
After King Boo finds out about that, he tries to hunt down Luigi. He gives the plumber and few scrapes, but before he could do any proper damage, Bowser is crouched over Luigi in an instant, protecting his from King Boo and demands that the ghost to not even look in his direction unless he wants to find out if he can die a second time.
Bowser is the type of guy that is “dad gets attached to a dog he doesn’t want” with Polterpup. This first time Luigi brings him home, the kids love the pup, but Bowser is a bit uneasy and jealous since he used to work with King Boo (even though Polterpup was controlled by the ghostly king), but overtime he comes to adore the pooch and spoils him with treats and toys.
Mario and Peach both wore dresses on their wedding day. Peach wore the most poofy, sparkly and pinkest wedding dress you could ever imagine (a pink version of the dress that Amy Adams wore in ‘Enchanted’) while Mario wore something close to the wedding dress from Odyssey.
There are times when Mario clings to Donkey Kong’s back and just buries himself in his fur because its so soft and warm and it makes him feel safe. However, DK doesn’t even feel Mario doing that and constantly thinks that the plumber is missing when really, he’s just fallen asleep clinging to his back.
Junior loves it when his uncle Mario throws him up into the air and catches him, as if he weighed at much as a basketball being sent soaring into the sky.
Since they were on the run, Luigi didn’t see Daisy since his parents left and only reunited when he and Mario started their business.
Peach’s favourite colour is the most specific shade of pink. Whenever you ask her, she always says that her favourite is a ‘sweet pea pink’.
(Another one based off my dad) a jackdaw bird sometimes flies into the garden of the mushroom palace and comes very friendly and close with Mario. He starts leaving food and water out for her and names her Peggy. She kind of becomes his ‘unofficial pet’.
(This one is based off me and my dad) Mario’s favourite movie growing up was ‘How To Train Your Dragon’ and introduced Luigi to it while they were still young. They grew up with the trilogy (they sobbed at the end of the third movie) until they fell throw the pipes.
Luigi glows whenever he’s happy, due to his thunderhand. Whenever he gets excited, he starts glowing like a star. Bowser finds it both adorable and beautiful.
Mia – Mario’s cat – was actually a stray when they found her. Once they took her in and nursed her back to health, they realised that she had a good temperament to be a therapy animal for Mario. They’ve been inseparable ever since. Both she and Polterpup are very close and love whenever their owners meet up so they can play.
Bowser reads to Luigi at night to help him sleep. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, Bowser will always read to him until he feels safe enough to fall back to sleep.
Luigi is also an insomniac to whenever he can’t sleep, he bakes instead. Bowser found him one night taking cookies out the oven, picked him up and carried him back to bed.
This is all I’ve got for now, there might be more soon. I hope ya’ll like them.
236 notes · View notes
babydollmarauders · 2 years
Text
ROADIE — TREVOR ZEGRAS
dad! trevor zegras x fem! reader
summary: in which your baby says her first word while Trevor is on a roadie.
warnings: pet names?
notes: i wrote this in about 2 hours and it was not proofread. so for all i know, this could be absolute trash.
Tumblr media
“mama. can we say mama?” i probably looked like a crazy person, bent over the front of the cart, talking to my 10 month old in the grocery store with a rats nest of hair and wearing leggings with a heavily stained oversized Anaheim Ducks t-shirt. and the usual stares over being a 21 year old mom aren’t helping.
this has been the first time since Addy was born that no one was staying with me while Trevor is on a roadie, and it’s been a bit harder than i anticipated. it’s been exhausting because although Addy is delaying with her words, she excelled with her other milestones. namely walking. she took her first steps about two weeks ago and has been toddling about the apartment ever since, so life has turned into a fun little ‘where’s waldo?’ game every time i turn around for the past two days. she’s also going through a sleep regression, so she’s waking up every hour again, which leaves me with little to no time to sleep or shower or do anything besides dote on her. and then, of course, when i opened the cupboard this morning, i realized we were on the last jar of baby food, so cue a trip to the store.
Addy just makes some babbling noises and scream laughs in my face, making me flinch and straighten back up.
“alright duckling, i hear you loud and clear. let’s get checked out so we can go back home for some Bluey time, yeah?” i worked quickly and swiftly, scanning each glass jar of food at the self check out and bagging them based on vegetable, fruit, medley, or meal.
when i finally get out to the car and buckle Addy in, her little blue eyes, exact replicas of Trevor’s, sweep over my face as wide as saucers.
“can we try that again?” i make conversation as i finish buckling her car seat. “can you say mama? mama. mama.”
once again, my baby just stares back at me.
“or not. that’s cool too. you can totally not speak at all if you want. doesn’t matter to mommy, as long as you’re happy and healthy.”
with the grocery bags placed in the passengers seat, i start the drive back to the apartment.
when we get back, i turn the tv onto Bluey and set Addy in her jumper in the living room. giving myself some time to wash the dishes piling in the sink. about 10 minutes into it though, my phone starts ringing back in the living room. drying my hands on a dish towel, i walk the ten or so steps back to the couch and swipe at the answer button on my phone screen without even checking the caller id.
“hey babe!” Trevor’s face fills the screen in a facetime and his voice is like music to my ears.
“hi love! how was morning practice?” i use the remote sitting on the arm of the couch to pause the tv show while i go sit beside the jumper so Trevor can see our beautiful baby.
“it was good! the sharks aren’t ready for us.” his face lights up as soon as Addy comes into the camera view.
“that’s great. i believe in y’all! show those fish who the real predator is!” his laugh at my joke brings a smile to my lips and i’m overwhelmed with gratitude that this is the man i’ll be vowing to spend the rest of my life with this summer.
“how’s daddy’s little duckling?! daddy’s so happy to see your pretty little face! yes, he is!” his baby talk oddly causes my heart to skip a beat. “dada misses you so much. i can’t wait to be home tomorrow night so i can kiss all over your tiny face.”
“duh- duh” Addy babbles and i smile at Trevor on the screen.
“we’re taking dada’s absence to try and learn the word mama, aren’t we baby?” i direct the end of my sentence to Addy, who’s still babbling sounds.
“that’s cheating!” Trevor’s whine is joking and he opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can get a word out, someone else does.
“dada.” my eyes go wide, Trevor’s copying, and we both avert our gaze to our 10 month old, who just said her first word. her chubby little fingers are making grabby motions towards my phone, straight at her father.
“that’s right babygirl! say it again! say dada!” Trevor is frantic and i can see tears welling in his eyes, even through the screen.
“you can do it baby! say dada!” i encourage her, my own tears falling freely down my cheeks.
“dada. dada!” she looks at Trevor and repeats the word before looking up at me. “dada.”
“oh my god, she did it Trev! she said her first word!”
“i know! i was so worried it wasn’t gonna happen! i mean, i would love her regardless, but she did it! and it was dada!” the smile he wears is breathtaking and wide.
“she misses you. so do i.”
“i miss you too, baby. i’ll be home tomorrow night.”
****
Trevor gets home tonight and i have not gotten a reprieve from the endless shouts of dada, all morning. at the moment, Addy is wobbling down the hallway towards Trev and i’s room for the fifth time today, repeatedly shouting “dada! dada!”
i can’t be for certain, but i have a feeling she keeps assuming he’s in our room and is calling out for him. she’s definitely a daddy’s girl, although that’s not a surprise because she has been since she was born.
i’m currently trailing behind her, recording a video. after a few seconds, i scoop her up into my arms and send the video to Trevor.
-
to: Trev Swift
**video attachment**
she’s been doing this all day. babygirl is looking for her dada!
from: Trev Swift
oh my little duckling! be home in 2 hours
-
i blow raspberries on her cheek and readjust her on my hip.
“daddy will be home soon! isn’t that exciting?! i’m thinking playpen time until then.” i stop beside the pack n’ play set up in the living room already stocked with a few teething toys and blocks, and set Addy inside. i put some Mickey Mouse on the tv and sit on the couch, grabbing the book i’m currently reading off of the side table.
about 30 minutes later i notice it’s been suspiciously silent and look over to Addy, only to find her napping. i smile at the sight of my sleeping daughter, and go back to reading my book.
before i even realize how much time has passed, i hear the front door opening and a thud hit the ground. Trevor’s home. i bookmark my page and snap my book shut, leaping up from the couch and making my way towards the front of the apartment, meeting Trev in the dining room.
“hi, baby.” his arms snake around my waist and he leans down to plant a kiss on my lips. “where’s Addy?”
“napping. she passed out in the playpen about an hour and a half ago.” i slip my arms around my fiancé’s neck, laying my head on his chest. “how were your trips?”
“eh. they were fine. but i missed my girls.”
we pull back and share one more kiss, this one a little deeper, before the sound of Addy’s cries drifts towards us from the other room.
“you wanna get your daughter? i need a shower.”
“oh so now she’s my daughter?” he laughs as we walk into the living room. a big smile graces his lips and he scoops Addy up and into his arms. “hey babygirl! daddy’s home and he’s not going anywhere any time soon.”
“dada!” Addy shouts and slaps both her tiny palms onto his cheeks, squishing his face.
“yeah, duckling. dada.”
787 notes · View notes
angel-of-the-moons · 5 months
Note
I’d love to request a sibling/roommates fic with Pavi Hobie and the reader if it’s not too much trouble! All 3 of them are so sibling coded. We all decide “fuck it the rent’s cheaper if it’s three of us LET’S BE ROOMMATES”. Some people think ‘oh that apartment’s gonna be trashed’, nope. We all have our respective chores and have a schedule on who takes the trash out. We love spending time at bedtime doing our own skincare routines and brushing our teeth together (callout for people that say that Hobie doesn’t bathe, that man is one of the CLEANEST fuckers out there). Definitely doesn’t stop the occasional argument of “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PIZZA?!” “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PALAK PANEER?!” “WHO ATE MY FUCKING LAST SCOTCH EGG?!”
Bugs In A Rug!
Platonic! Hobie Brown x Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader
TW/CW: None!
A/N: Sweetheart I am so sorry this has been backed up for so long, I plan on eating through some of my asks (again) So I can open them up. The ones I don't vibe with might get yeeted (I love you all as well as every request that comes in, but some stuff my brain just can't write! 😭)
Tumblr media
🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷
People said the three of you would make poor roommates. That your apartment would be chaotic, messy, and loud just because you were all young and close in age, and rowdy when the three of you goofed off.
Oh, they were wrong in their assumptions. Many looked at you and Pavitr and automatically suggested Hobie would make a mess of your apartment. Oh, no. They were so wrong.
You and Pavitr tended to be forgetful, sometimes leaving little messes in your wake that Hobie would either clean up himself, or flick a dish rag at the both of you until the mess was done with.
Oh, and the food situation. You all shared grocery funds; a sound suggestion that worked out well for your wallets. However... Then came the inevitable "who ate my snack?!" debacle. Pavitr in particular was very protective of his masala cashews--to the point he would actively count each little cashew and write the number on the bag.
A tad excessive, but his determination ratted you out as his "cashew thief".
Almost like how you found out it was Hobie stealing your frozen dinners, and how it was Pavitr stealing some of his jaffa cakes.
Right now, however was a simple, casual day. Hobie had spent the past two hours playing his guitar in his room (soundproofed, thankfully) and you and Pavitr were in your usual hamster pile on the couch, waiting for Hobie to join the two of you for your little communal movie night.
"Hooobieeeeee!" Pavitr said loudly, laying backwards over your side as you scrolled through your phone. "C'moooooooon! We're getting booooooored!"
"Oi, gimme a minute, you twerp!" Hobie called out from his room.
You snicker and wiggle around, purposefully messing with Pavitr's balance as he was draped across you like a lazy cat.
"Hey! Quit it! You're the pillow!" Pavitr laughed, rolling over to pinch your cheeks from behind.
"Nah, you're jush a heavy brat!" You giggle, finally turning your phone screen off as you roll over to try and start to wrestle with him.
Hobie comes out right as you have Pavitr's wrist held in your mouth, and he had your leg in an arm-lock.
Hobie, despite his usual punk aesthetic, was wearing a soft knit jumper that seemed a tad too long--even for his long, lanky frame--some loose sweat pants, and a pink and purple silk bonnet that contained his usually untamed mass of wicks.
He put his hands on his hips and frowned at you two. "Now who's actin' like a couple a' brats? Oh, wait, nevermind, it's always you."
"Hey! You're not funny!" You say, you and Pavitr releasing each other as you begin to reassemble your pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions.
"Oh, please, I'm hilarious." Hobie smirked, flipping you the bird (which you responded with both your middle fingers in return) as he walked into the kitchenette to prep the popcorn and pour out the sweet snacks for your movie binge.
Pavitr laid on his pelly and kicked his feet as he watched Hobie get ready. "Aww! You look so cute today!"
"Do not call me that!" Hobie warned, wagging a finger at him over his shoulder.
"But you do!" You giggle, waggling your eyebrows.
Hobie smacks the bag of popcorn into the microwave and glares at the two of you. "Hey, you two like to keep the damn place as cold as an ice box! I have to dress all warm just to live, you damn penguins!"
"Lizard." You and Pavitr both say without missing a beat. And immediately after you and Pavitr high-five and joke about one owing a pop to the other. Hobie just scoffed loudly and took the bag of popcorn from the microwave, shaking the bag up a bit so the butter spreads, and grabs the bottle of "movie theater butter" the three of you were so fond of.
You and Pavitr turn to the TV and you snatch up the remote, scrolling through films to watch.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Pavitr asked innocoently.
"There's this one movie--the dude in it sounds just like Miguel, I swear!" You say, signing in to your streaming profile to find said movie.
"Ugh," Hobie groans, plopping down onto the ground next to you and your tanned, golden-retriever of a friend. "If he acts like him, I just know the movie is gonna suck."
"No, no, no!" You refute. "He's actually funny and like, he's a pilot or something."
"Fine, fine." He sighed with a lazy smirk, holding the popcorn bucket out to Pavitr for him to grab a handful of the crunchy, popped treat. You meanwhile snagged one of the lemon drop creme cookies he'd set down in between all of you as the movie's opening credits begin to crawl.
It was your first time ever watching this "Star Wars" stuff.
37 notes · View notes
devildom-doll · 1 year
Text
The Obey Me characters at MC’s Latino/Hispanic Party 🫠
Tumblr media
A/N: Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!!¡¡!¡ I am not sorry for this. The only thing I’m sorry for is my grammar. Remember this is joke, okay? ùwú
Word Count: 625 words (I think, idk, didn’t count)
TLDR: just read the title, man xD
Tumblr media
-Lucifer be talking with MC’s relatives, eating his pan con cafésito; probably telling them about how much his pendejo brothers don’t let him sleep at night. But also, he unintentionally brags about them cuz he loves them so damn much.
-Mammon be gambling with some of the drunk tiós; probably playin Lotería or somthn. He’s gonna lose, of course, and they’re gonna trash talk him but he speaks fluent Spanish so he’s gonna tire himself out and have nothing left. He’s gonna have to ask your abuelita for some dinero.
-Leviathan is playing video games with the primos who like anime, then he’s gonna realize interaction with people is a pain and he’s gonna lock himself in the room where someone’s baby is randomly sleeping.
-Satan tried learning some Spanish before coming to the party, but then he realized Lucifer is fluent af, now he tryna hunt Luci down with the piñata bat, jejeje. Then he’s gonna get drunk with the cool primos… drunk to the point where he’ll be fluent by morning.
-Asmodeus be dancing to Shakira and Daddy Yankee, and probably get concerning stares from your religious abuela telling you he needs el amor de Cristo. He probably gonna flirty with the tiás and brag about you being his amor. (he just learned how to say “te amo,” and he tryna find you… he drunk too)
-Beelzebub ate eveything he ate the pozole, y los tácitos, y los tamales, y las pupusas, y las empanadas… el come de todo.   El taquero is probably tired of seeing him and he keeps asking the relatives what each food is called and how to make it.
-Belphegor tomando siestas con el bebe y con Levi porque interaction is painful. Actually, he was with Beel earlier, and he takes note of the food Beel eats so both of them can find the recipes when they get home… if they actually do go home…
-Diavolo talks to all the relatives, like all of them, he says goodbye to all of them when it’s time to leave too. He probably is the drunk tío. Also, he speaks fluent Spanish. He probably plays games with the family and plays with los primitos too. Lord Diavolo doesn’t exist anymore; he’s Señor Diavolo now.
-Barbatos be helping in the kitchen making the food that the family is gonna eat (Beel too). Family be impressed, he makes some good ass food and knows damn well that Dia is gonna demand Hispanic human food to be served at RAD. He’s got the hands that perfectly shape las tortillas, people be impressed. (Also, he says sí mi Señor cuz mega lul)
-Luke is playing with los primitos, he got on the jumper, hit the piñata, and he had some pan dulce con leche. Then he got tired, and he be laying, stomach down on the couch or some random room waiting to leave. (Luke was the baby in that room btw jeje)
-Simeon also be helping the the kitchen, making the sweet stuff and preparing the coffee. 100% got along with your religious abuela; oradon y hablaron a sus vidas porque Simeon es un abuelo también. Your family loves him the most, probably, next to Luci and Barb.
-Solomon speaks fluent Spanish… cuz there’s a spell that makes him do that. He talked to some relatives, he probably scared your religious abuela con la brujería. Simeon and Barb kept him out of the kitchen. He’s just vibin tbh, probably sitting with you as you watch your demon/angel harem interact with your familia.
MC (tu 🫵🏽) is watching your demon/angel harem interact with your familia. Also, you comforting the sleepy boys telling them, “si ya vamos, solo un poquito mas…”
109 notes · View notes
bonzlydoo · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Morning broke with a hard edge to it. The slow sting, that yesterdays unraveling memories were not a tasteless joke off the back of some dream. His saving grace was Edward's sleeping presence. To wake in company was a mercy after yesterday. He revelled in it, thinking on the fact that this was the first time any other human had slept in this bed.
A half hour and Edward didn't stir. Scuffed up as bad as he was, he needed his rest, and Winslow knew his anxious mind would only bother it. Another fifteen minutes. The musician slipped his way out of embrace, carefully. Ed was sweet, he deserved this break a little longer from reality. God, the bruises were forming now. He was so beat up, but damn if he didn't look like the image of sweetness wrapped up in the old oversized jumper of his. Another minute. He admired that chiseled face softened by sideburns, packing the mental image up into that special mental space. He dressed comfortably. Left quietly.
Winslow had missed his work shift and didn't care.
For the second day in a row now he'd made the mistake and fallen asleep with a contact in, and it hurt with dryness in his good eye. He'd stick to glasses today, what he was used to, thinking, maybe he'd get a lens put in his old helmet. It felt good to compose in, a little inspiring even.
Compose... feelings bundled up in a knot in his chest. That'd help, composing. First coffee. He didn't feel hungry.
The collar was still at his neck and the voice box was surely out of charge but he had spare batteries.
The clock in the kitchen ticked. A loose kernel crunched under his foot when he sat down. It must have gotten away when they... when Cherik cleaned up the other day... Winslow stared at the wall. He replaced the needed pieces. The clock ticked. There was a stain on the sofa from where coffee had spilled. These things made him melancholy. He didn't cry. He knew he'd compose.
Coffee warmed his hands. He stared at the wall as he drank up. He wrote as he drank. It was on a loose sheet of scrap envilope.
Winslow thought he should probably tell work he was off sick, away on a family emergency... bereavement leave.
He placed a phone-call that didn't specify either one thing, nor how soon he'd be back. He sipped his coffee. He wrote. The clock ticked. He wrote. He sipped. The cup was empty...
Winslow looked back to the bedroom door. Edward still slept.
Sink. Cleanup. Drying.
His good eye caught something on the kitchen countertop now. the tin of hot coco. Guess he never put it back. He'd have to pick up something decent for when Cherik got back. Yes, when Cherik got back, that's what they agreed on.
Winslow threw the tin into the trash. He needed something better before then. He'd get something better.
That scrap paper stared him back from the kitchen countertop now. The pen twitched in his fingers, wiggled back and fourth, impatient as he. Compose... He could make breakfast or he could put something to this. With Edward still sleeping, he decided he'd compose. Maybe take the man to the diner when he woke up, if he had the energy, get out the house. He knew his food was shit choice for a healing man.Yeah, the diner would be good.
Winslow spent the next two hours wrapped in headphones, behind fallen curtains. It all came surprisingly fast, the music. Papers seemed almost to fill themselves, and the only thing that stopped Winslow's fever, why, it was the fact he'd finished. Plane and simple, that was it, the song, something for all these emotions to go into. He didn't feel fixed, but felt a little better now, a little clearer. Clear enough to notice hunger. Sheet music, Winslow put sheet music down next to sheet music. Here was a song for Cherik, there was a song for Henry, the thing he'd written and couldn't sing. The sight of them faded against piles of songs, ten years worth never recorded.
He shook his head. Still no sign of Edward. God he was out cold, knew he'd better check on the man. He'd check on the man.
Winslow's thin angular body slid in that bedroom one last time this morning, casting gaze upon the man wrapped safe in his childish jumper. Wondered, how'd it look so much better on him. Hmm... maybe... maybe it'd be alright, just a few more minutes next to him couldn't hurt. Winslow looked for a few more things that might actually fit Ed when he woke. Good luck. His smallest shirt, fresh underpants, a pair of shorts. They could make a stop somewhere for better things. His clothes were wrecked after all...
Winslow placed them in front of Ed, then slid back in to that perfectly empty space he once lay safely in. If it woke Ed he'd wake, if it didn't, maybe they'd wake together in another hour... hmm... Just a little longer.
-- writing excerpt. This version of Edward Hyde belongs to @dross-the-fish --
20 notes · View notes