hi so. i finally finished 24 hours, my laundromat yoonseok fic, after thirty years between the last chapter and this one. i think everyone forgot about it but 10/10 chapters now, gosh. this fic means a lot to me, idk why. maybe because those boys are such sweethearts. maybe because i also spend a lot of time at the laundromat since my washing machine died. idk idk. thank you to everyone who has read it, especially you kids who left sweet comments or kudos an stuff, i appreciate it so much ily ily ty ty ♡♡♡ you can read it here
edit: i accidentally it deleted but managed to back a bunch of times and find the proper version lmao. truly i am the stupidest person on the planet. link is fixed now s m h
i have this kinda weird (original) post-apocalyptic cyborg love story i started years ago (and hope to someday revisit, but probably as fic). anyway i found this poem i wrote about it!
“You see, we are not machines and we do not have lots of ideas in a drawer.” christo
I don’t want the way I feel when I fuck you to be a lie.
My DNA a machine of chemical reactions: all that oxytocin and epinephrine flooding my system, testosterone and phenylethylamine turning the cogs until we’re both just slaves to our programming.
Afterwards I press my lips against your shoulder. You taste like salt, even though I don’t know if you sweat at all. I run my fingers, gentle like you are delicate, up and down the inside of your arm. You are a revelation.
I know you. I can read your blank eyes as easily as I can read the tilt of your head, the line of your mouth. You mirror my expressions so honestly.
The way I feel when I fuck you isn’t a lie the way you think it is. I felt it before you let me kiss you. I felt it when I first woke up to you in that elementary school, too much pain to do anything but stare at the way your curls glowed in the dim light. I felt it even more when I thought you were dead, your head blown open by an IED. I would’ve died next to you, cradling your broken body: it would have been the first time I touched you.
Stop thinking the flush of my cheeks and the black of my pupils is a lie my body tells me to get us through the nights. It’s not the chemicals that keep me alive but the way you smile.
You think I can’t love you because you think we’re not the same, your brain a mash of wires and glinting hardware. Don’t overthink it. I don’t know how you can shudder when I kiss you if no one programmed it, but you do. I don’t know if you can feel it when I nuzzle against the metal panel cut from your chest, but I do it anyway because
maybe it’s the parts of you that aren’t human that I love the most.
The sash wringing… the trash thinging… mash flinging… the flash springing, bringing the the crash thinging the…
HASH SLINGING SLASHER!
You may be an open book Spongebob, but I am a bit more complicated than that.
The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma
Killer Croc:Do you smell it? That smell, the kind of smelly smell. A smelly smell that smells…smelly
Two-Face: Isn’t this great Squidward? Just you & me together
for hours and hours and hours! And then the sun’ll come up, and it’ll be
tomorrow, and we’ll still be working! It’ll be just like a sleepover!
Only we’ll be sweaty and covered with grease!
Penguin:Hmm, a five letter word for happiness…money!
So you mean to say they’ve taken what we thought we think and make us
think we thought our thoughts we’ve been thinking our thoughts we think
we thought?…I think.
Catwoman: Because of her mysterious behavior, I have decided to name her
Mystery…Now that I think about it she’s also very graceful and
majestic. Perhaps I should name her Grace or Majesty…or Debbie.
I’ll have you know I stubbed my toe last week while watering my spice garden and I only cried for twenty minutes.
See, no one says “cool” anymore. That’s such an old
person thing. Now we say “coral”, as in “That nose job is so coral.”
The Joker: F is for fire that burns down the whole town, U is for Uranium…bombs! N is for no survivors!
I slipped on an ice cube and got covered in boo-boos!
You know, if I were to die right now in a fiery explosion due to the carelessness of a friend, well, that would be just okay.
Yeah, uhh, we’re with the pet hospital down the street and I understand that you have a dying animal on the premises.
This isn’t me millionth dollar, this is an ordinary dollar that’s been
crumpled up, torn slightly, soaked in the lagoon and kissed with Coral
Blue #2 semi-gloss lipstick!
I was a wimp before Anchor Arms. Now, I’m a jerk and everybody loves me! So order now, wimp!
maybe one day you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and feel sick to your stomach. maybe you’ll remember that you broke the only person who would’ve crawled on glass for you. maybe you’ll find my favorite constellation in the sky and realize it was always you. maybe you’ll call me to tell me you’re sorry but you’ll get my answering machine, an automated version of the person i had to become when you left. maybe one day you’ll look back on our love story and realize it should’ve been the entire god damn book instead of just one chapter.