im bringing this theme back lads

with every spoken word being poured into her ears, it only drives north further to the edge she’s tittering on the edge of. one more step backwards  &  there she goes, tumbling to the bottom of the imaginary river she’s built for herself, cobalt blood splattering everywhere until the police eventually arrive to the scene. in her head, it seems more ideal than the scenario she currently finds herself in: a charity for rich white politicians where her ear is being chatted off by someone whom she despises. (maybe it’s an overstatement to say despise; elisabet has done some good for world, specifically for the earth in making sure it doesn’t become a wasteland with a hot temperature besides its side. what has she done to make androids lives a tad easier, though? none of those things matter to androids because they were never built with those concepts in mind; climate change doesn’t matter to them, not receiving death threats do. it’s a question playing itself through north’s head with every glance she takes at the other woman, threatening to spill from the tip of her tongue. it almost makes her laugh in the other woman’s face because it is comical in a sense, but she refrains.) she does listen to everything the doctor says, however, even with her conscience telling her otherwise. if she were to listen to that, though, she would have already slipped out of the event  &  been back at her apartment, ordering a bottle of aged booze she couldn’t even drink. (it’s what humans do  &  what makes her feel more alive as if she finally fits in! can’t be that bad, right?)

❛   i appreciate the invitation to speak to you, but i rather not   —   especially not tonight. trust me, though, i’ve done my research over your work   &   what you believe you’re doing for the good of everyone. i have to admit, it is impressive. i give credit where it’s due   &   you do deserve some credit. however, i guess i don’t see where androids benefit from your actions. i’m still not too keen on the whole using robots or whatever you choose to call them ordeal, but i’ll allow that to slide for right now. however, you say you may not believe humans deserve to inherit the planet, but what you’re doing … doesn’t necessarily benefit us … does it? i mean, we were were built to sustain extensive injuries, to adjust our temperatures whenever necessary; the list is continuous but i won’t bore you with the tiny details. i’m sure you know of them anyways.   ❜   the snarky expression clouding her features isn’t what she expects to overcome her, but it does. there’s no changing it now, feeling as it becomes a permanent fixture on her face. 

it’s always felt like this.  dumb girl, planet savior.  heart-of-fucking-gold.  so determined to keep everyone else alive she’ll die for them without a second thought.  there’s burns on her fingers from when she burnt the tree down, there’s scars on her shoulders and neck from an explosion trying to get early nanobots to work.  her lips purse, hands awkwardly by her sides.  always on the outside.  like she’s looking in on everyone, like they’re all in a play and everyone else has their lines but she doesn’t.  like there’s something deep rooted inside of her and growing and growing.  her mouth filled with something so soft and sweet - like honeysuckle.  ❛ if you ever change your mind, let me know. ❜  it’s tender, too much so for someone so unfamiliar.  intimacy on one part and something rotten in the other.

All she wants is to leave.   She wants to run out the front door of the facility and go back home, not bothering to look behind her ever again. If she went with what her head is sinisterly whispering in her ear, she would’ve left by now. Hell, she tried to last night   —   just not in the ideal way she thought. Bedsheets tied to the fan hanging in the middle of the room, metal folding chair set in place directly underneath. Everything was golden until the moment she stepped off; guards came rushing in as if they were FBI agents raiding the place, their shouting loud enough to wake the entire place up as they hurried to get her back on the ground safely. It was a sight you would’ve seen on a television show, not in a rehabilitation facility.  

At his words, she rolls her heavy eyes. You don’t get much sleep at a suicide attempt; she’s learning that right now, dreading the meeting that’s bound to announce someone tried to off themselves last night. (Take care of one another! Ask how everyone is feeling! Take feelings into consideration!)   “Yeah, I fell off a chair last night.”   It’s mumbled under her breath as she leans her back against the chair she’s perched on, arms moving to cross themselves tightly over her chest while her legs stick outwards: an attempt to keep her own legs from bouncing up and down.

“Gotta’ love the people who work in here, right? My fucking saviors, wouldn’t be here without ‘em.”

❛ oh it’s truly fucking thrilling here. ❜  scratch whatever new cramp has appeared, leg jiggle, bite your nails — ad nauseam.  it’s annoying, it’s fucking annoying and jesus christ he wants to throw himself out a window and if he has to sit through another group meeting about soft feelings and how we’re all doing today and how this really just makes him want to scream above all and possibly, maybe, he just really wants a fucking apricot danish and maybe that will fix it.

@mnhuntd​

she knew what tonight would entail; a bunch of shaking hands with politicians who years ago were rooting for her death in the cold wintery streets of detroit. they cheered when markus died in the streets, hoping to see you right next to him.  you never gave up.  tonight, they smile  &  laugh as they attempt to toss their previous haughty comments out the window, insinuating they were only speaking out of a hybrid containing ignorance  &  fear,  &  never wanted another civil war to take place in their backyard. it takes every ounce of nylon inside her to hold herself back from pouncing on her prey, ripping them to shreds  &  her mugshot making the evening news:  north jericho, androids right activist, commits murder at charity benefit!  it’s what they’re all waiting for: the slightest screw-up to pin on androids to take away their rights. after everything they’d all gone through with the protests  &  at jericho, she can’t be the reason they lose it. if it means plastering a complacent smile across her features, shaking hands,  &  contemplate aiming her police-issued pistol at her head: so be it.

what she wasn’t expecting was elisabet sobeck also being in attendance. she’d heard of the woman in passing amongst colleagues  &  whilst attending interviews, often asking for her position on sobeck’s work in robotics  &  the usage of androids for her various reasons. that was thing with humans: androids were props for them, often used for their various political reasons. that’s what sobeck’s work was, whether she’d admit it or not,  it was political.  it’s when north approaches sobeck when her posture straightens, jaw tight  &  vision steady, her wispy hand reaching out for an greeting.   

❛   ms. sobeck, i would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but we both know i would be lying.   ❜   the words don’t come out as hostile, because they aren’t. they’re spoken in a truthful manner, a position she isn’t afraid to hold her ground on. markus sacrificed himself so jericho could rise from the plumes, no longer becoming ashes to drift in the wind. not that some woman could just use them for her political advantage.  it was disheartening.  her hand remains extended for their introduction, lips remaining straight across your face.   ❛   using any more androids for your little projects? i’d love to hear about them, only if you have the time, though.   ❜

there’s a thousand terrible little things one could say — it’s doctor sobeck, not ms. sobeck.  but it will never make it out, it stays curled up in the back of her throat, living with every other unspoken thing (i never loved you! how could do this to me? what did i do to deserve this? why ted — what did i ever do to you?). it’s just another little thing to add to the pile of cruel jabs and undermining that has painted every aspect and wall of her life.  every little thing she’s taken over the years — how horrific to have someone finally see you for who you really are and then have it thrown back in your face.  but she got used to being picked last a long time ago.  ❛ you might not be excited to meet me but i am actually excited to meet you.  that being said, i do understand why i leave a sour taste in your mouth. ❜

another cramp in his foot, wiggling its way up his leg.  he’s seen her half a dozen times, strung out and blistered.  a fucking mirror image.  teeth chewing into the soft flesh of his cheek, mulling over it.  ‘you fall or something?  fuckin’ funky looking tho.’