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willowser · 7 months

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one thousand lonely stars, hiding in the cold—

android!shouto x reader

wc: 2k+

tags: angst, cyberpunk dystopian setting, financial vulnerability, explicit language, minor mention of sex work + sex workers, reader has strong/conflicting feelings about their situation, and — as always — the question of true humanity.

notes: what a great opportunity this was for me to continue exploring this idea !! tysm to @shoto-brainrot for not only giving me the chance, but also for being such a support and helping me to figure out all this commission jazz !! i so appreciate you, and i hope you enjoy it ! 🩷

original post

You’ve yet to find out what caused the damage to Shouto’s faceplate.

By the time you discovered him outside the credit exchange, he had been busted open and left for—whatever the equivalent of dead is for an android. A gaping hole in the left side of his disturbingly human face exposed his inner circuitry to the rain and you think that should have finished him off, truly, but—he's still kicking.

Technology in the lower district is distinct. The most careful hands could have crafted him down in the best underground salvage yard and he still wouldn't have lasted half an hour with his face submerged in a shallow mud puddle like that. Wiring would have been shot, fuses blown.

Even if the Todoroki Corporation symbol on his wrist wasn't glowing, a blinking light in time with his would-be heart, you'd know what he is. You'd know he didn't belong down here, beneath the smog, in the industrial bones of your dying city.

And yet—

The left side of Shouto's face took the brunt of whatever blow he'd been dealt, and the scarring—if it's even called that?—has extended down over his cheekbone and backward, so violently that his ear had only barely been hanging on. Without the bandage you've wrapped him up in, he's quite a sight: half a tangled mess of wires and pins, a dull cyan light glowing in his orbital socket. With the wrapping, however, he’s almost exactly as he was meant to be: seamless.

The fate of his detached ear had been unknown. Until this morning.

It still works, much to your surprise, learning so only after wondering aloud the whereabouts of your data docket and hearing Shouto answer from across the apartment. Whoever put him together, you realize, took great care to make him durable, adamantine; the carbon nanotubes and polymer arrays that make up his cochlea were hardly affected by the assault.

Someone—or something—meant to harm him, and you know that for certain, now. Such wreckage couldn’t have happened naturally, not to a Skin-Puppet like him.

(When you look at him, you can’t help but consider his creator. How far he is from them and why. If the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. You haven’t asked, but it’s odd that a machine could keep such information to himself—itself.)

(Given the brutality behind his mutilation, perhaps it’s best you don’t know the answers.)

Working tech from the richer district—KōkyōLuxuria, above the smog, built high into the clouds—could not only earn you enough to eat this week, but also to pay off all your debts to the League. Maybe even finance a decent apartment a few stories up.

And that’s why you’re here: racing through the slums in the rain, doing your damndest to make this sale before time runs out and you’re forced to find another buyer. Coming across a Hack with 1,640,254 credits in their docket is rare; who knows when you’ll find someone from the Trade in Musutafu sector again? You’re likely to sooner perish—either from your empty stomach or that broker that demanded payment two days ago.

Shouto, however, doesn’t see the urgency.

“Hello, handsome! Awful cold out tonight…care to warm me up?”

“Oh, hello.”

At the even, all-too-friendly lilt in his voice, you halt your sprint again, and spin around with a hiss. “Shouto!” You snap—but it comes too late; the Entertainers have struck like lightning, already scrambling his code.

Out of habit, you’d pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before leaving the apartment, and now the material separates his image from view—though you can easily imagine the pleasant expression showing on his face, illuminated in pink under the NanotechNymph advertisement.

At his easily captured interest, two women strut from the open doors of the low-lit den, all allure and swaying hips, mirage flickering beneath the heavy rain. They only meet him halfway—too far from the emanator deep within the club—and you dash forward to stop him from wordlessly accepting their offer. You can’t afford to owe anyone any more than you already do.

“Shouto,” you say again, mouth twisting when he looks at you simply. Despite the hood, his bandage grows dark from the rain and—despite his framework, worry fluxes in your stomach at the thought of him getting too wet. “We have to go.”

“Aww,” an Entertainer says to you, girlish pout pulling down her full lips. “You don’t want to come inside and play with us?”

“No,” you try not to look at them any longer, just in case that racks up a charge, too. Rock solid as he is, Shouto allows himself to be steered away, much to your relief. “Buzz off, holo-ham.”

“I’d like to play.” Shouto pipes up, peeking behind his shoulder when the girls squeal in excitement. “Can we come back once we’ve finished?”

“Not for that kind of play.” You put a hand on the back of his head and swivel it, all while shoving him down the sidewalk. You almost remark on how man-like he’s acting, before chasing the thought away.

“What other types of play are there?”

“Just—hush.”

And he does, finally, when you loop your arm through his: a presumably innocent gesture that draws his attention fully back to you, as physical touch seems to do, with him. Beneath the material of the jacket, he feels natural, all muscle and bone, even leaning into you as if the weather has made him cold. You can feel him tracing your face with his one-eyed gaze—scanning you—and you pretend not to notice.

“Your heart rate has gone up. Have I made you angry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, though he hasn’t, really. “You and your curiosity are gonna make me late, and then we’ll be in some serious shit.”

He looks away then, down to the soaked pavement, a mimicry of disappointment. From the corner of your eye, you can see his manufactured Adam’s apple bob, and the muscle beneath your hand shifts.

“They seemed nice, the holograms.” He says, and you can’t help the soft snort such a comment merits.

“Yeah, they’re nice, alright, until you can’t pay them.”

Shouto looks at you once again, stride threatening to falter until you tug him along. “Do you know them?”

You already know where he’s going with his question, and the corner of his lips quirk up when you cast him a filthy look. “Well, no, but—”

“Then how do you know—”

“I just do, alright?” You frown at him and he accepts it in full, studying once more. Whatever he finds in your expression amuses enough that he’s placated for the moment, though you know it won’t be long before he’s piping up again.

He does it often—studies you: body language, physiological changes, speech patterns, vocal cues. Human behavior he catalogs and streams to someone back at the Corporation headquarters, finding the miniscule details he can use against you, some day. Whatever the reason behind his damage, he is still a product of his evil overlords, made for reasons you can only imagine.

This is what you tell yourself.

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness: this is what you tell yourself.

You’re overcome with a sense of loss and you don’t know why, and you clear the strange lump hardening in your throat. “Life lesson number six, Todoroki,” you murmur it closely to him, nearly into the fabric at his shoulder, though he doesn’t react to the name. “Everybody wants something from someone, holo-hams included.”

Shouto seems to process your words, for a moment, and his face is expressionless when you steal a peek up at him. Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you, and again you think of his creator. The careful hands that crafted his smooth cheeks, the sharp line of his nose, the leanness of his body. You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious.

Nearly all of the residents relegated to the lower districts owe the Todoroki Corporation in some way. Be it through credit loans or applied interest rates on subsidized housing or hidden costs and high premiums on mandatory, shit insurance—Enji Todoroki sits in the lap of KōkyōLuxuria, has probably never even stepped down from his pedestal.

There’s no good reason a product of his could have found its way to you: this is what you tell yourself.

“And you want my ear.” Shouto says, looking back down at you as your shoulders tense. There isn’t a byte of hostility in his voice, but he must understand the sharpness to what he’s saying.

“Yes,” you admit with a nod, and some underlying, rogue streak of guilt has you pressing into him, as if your proximity could make up for your selfishness. “The sensors in your ear are gonna pay for our dinner tonight, handsome.”

His stride falters once more, and despite the time clock ticking in the back of your mind—you let him stop you. Maybe you want him to. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him and you know that and maybe it’s cruel of you to say such a thing, to offer a comfort you can’t admit to, but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

Before he can say anything, a fat drop of water hits the tip of his perfectly manufactured nose. It makes him flinch, delayed, and the surprise he wears and the scrunch of his brow seem so—human, there before you. Shouto tilts his face to the dark, smoggy sky, and again that worry bites you, about too much water trickling into his core.

“We’re going to be late,” you repeat, though it’s much weaker than it was earlier. This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity; you can’t tell if you want to run because you have to, for the sale—or if it’s a result of watching him now, haloed in neon.

He’s not one to ignore you, but he doesn’t respond, instead retracting his arm from your grip in order to push the hood back off his head. Raindrops soak into his bandage and the excess pools, dripping down over the line of his jaw and the column of his throat. So close to him, you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin.

(You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious. You wonder if he meant to leave, or if he was cast out. You wonder if he was created for continued corruption—or if someone out there wanted him to experience life, no matter how rusty.)

(You wonder if he feels as human as he looks. If he can blush, or if the soft skin below his ear can bruise.)

A small sound bubbles out of him, like a light laugh of disbelief.

You found him face down in the rain; you’re not sure why it could cause such a reaction now, but he turns to eye the commercial playing behind him, before watching the path of a man walking by the two of you. Rain collects in his perfect cupid’s bow until he licks it away, and his hair slicks to the side when he pushes it out of his face.

Shouto turns his attention back to you rather plainly, though the edges of his smile pull up a little higher than they usually do, enough that the apples of his cheeks round. He asks you, “What’s going to be for our dinner?” and the question is oddly worded, but each one is intentional.

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed.

There isn’t a way that this could end well: this is what you tell yourself.

You nod once and turn to face back the way you came, resigned, before looping your arm through his again. You trace the delicate veins on the inside of his wrist, careful not to cover the slow-blinking symbol embedded there, and you decide it doesn’t matter what his creator did or didn’t want. Because he has wants of his own, just like anyone.

“Okay,” you sigh, and when you slosh through the puddles collecting on the sidewalk, Shouto seems happy to follow along, this time. “I can probably sweet talk Toyomitsu into buying us some takoyaki, but you’re gonna have to play it cool.”

“Is this the kind of play you were talking about?”

That lilt has returned to his voice, even and friendly and amused.

“No,” you swat at him to hear his little huff of laughter, “now stop asking about that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

#NOTE that this was written with fem reader in mind but i don't think it reads that way explicitly ?#i........actually had so much fun with this #i love any human x robot pairing like it's a true weakness for me #anything centering on a robot/android wanting to understand the human experience and wanting for emotion is like PEAK #i am so so thankful i got to work on this idea again i really truly enjoyed it #i wrote this while being so emotional about 'ex machina' i hope the emotion isn't too abstract LOL #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: shouto #✿ theme: android shouto

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inkskinned · 2 years

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not to romanticize my mental issues but sometimes having adhd is very useful because today during a meeting that could have been an email i kept thinking about crabs wearing small tophats and having little dancing parties and how they'd sound in tap shoes.

and when my boss was like "raquel what do you think?"

i was like "well, i think the others have made good points about this, of course, and i'd be happy to circle around later on it, but i'd love to take a moment and resonate with this before offering my own suggestion. i want to hear what others think before anticipating the client's needs."

and then i went back to not listening but this time it was imagining snails that joust.

#me: hehe funny #the hatemail: you should be fired immediately the fact you are scum enough to NOT LISTEN #in a SINGLE MEETING #that was about a project you DONT WORK ON #means that you are EVIL and SUCKING UP TIME #like bro .... idk how to tell u this sometimes people be in meetings they don't need to be in #i only got asked to participate bc there's an element of the project that resembles #a piece i wrote a while back #and i know this element exists bc #we've already had a meeting where i told them what i did how i did it and what i suggest #so there's nothing else for me to add really #also im close with all the coworkers who are working on that element #and they just gchat me their questions #idk how to tell u this but someone zoning out in a single 30 minute meeting where they LITERALLY #don't work on that project ?#that's just fucking anti-capitalism baby #i was being a revolutionary

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satsuha · 6 months

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just wanted to draw the outfits

#satsuhart #fe3h au #octopath traveler 2 #octopath traveler ii #i almost wrote church of aelfric bc well uh.. but then i was like yeah i wont think about it too hard #i like how customizable the officers academy outfit is #edit: adding some extra thoughts spoilers for both octo2 and fe3h #im kinda surprised at how well this fits LMAO the profs especially like. while castti is very diff from manuela #the 'nurse and school teacher' works nicely ... and hanneman being insane abt his research #idw think too hard about how the church works here i dont think teme would be a manakete hes just the obvious choice for church man.#octo2

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coffeeghoulie · 2 months

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okay okay listen...#48 w/dewther. yes? but. insert aeon in place of aether. insert dew's habit and....what happens?

Crow, your brain is huge <3. Hope you enjoy!

#48: out of habit

from this prompt list

Something's wrong.

Dew can feel it growing in the pit of his chest, straining at his ribs with each heartbeat. He hasn't been this nervous ahead of a Ritual in years, long before he transitioned to fire.

Miserere Mei, Deus is playing over the speakers, just barely managing to drown out the growing sound of the crowd, and if Dew were quintessence, he'd be able to taste the excitement. The gossamer sheet between them and the audience ripples softly in the breeze, and something's wrong.

Dew stares down at his hands, growling at them as if that alone would make his spindly fingers stop trembling. It's the first show of this cycle. He should be excited, just like the humans who came to see them spread the Unholy Father's message.

He cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's making him feel like the world's about to end until he looks up from his hands. Aeon's taking his Fantomen from a tech, and Dew is reminded, painfully, that his mate will not be standing across the stage from him when that curtain falls.

Dew stumbles back, grabbing at a crate like he thinks he might go off balance. His other hand covers the crook of his neck, over the many intricate layers of his uniform, where Aether's mark sits, long scarred over. He knows what he's missing, what's wrong, what is making him feel like he's dying.

The first Ritual he and Aether shared together, Aether's very first, Dew had watched the big ghoul shake with nerves, still shy and skittish, only a few months' summoned. He had slipped over towards him, pressed a cool hand to his chest.

Aether had flinched, looking up, violet eyes all Dew could see behind the silver masks. "You'll do fine," Dew had whispered, "I trust Omega and Delta's judgment. You'll do just fine."

He hadn't responded, still trembling under Dew's touch. Dew furrowed his brow, humming softly. Aether swayed towards the noise, entranced.

"Here," Dew said, grabbing the chin of his mask and pulling it up, revealing the pale skin of his glamour. "Pull your mask up, starshine."

Aether wordlessly obeyed, and Dew's gaze softened at the sight of his lip bitten raw, fear written clear as day across his expression.

"Do you want a distraction?" Dew asked, gently reaching up to pet at Aether's cheek. He nodded, and Dew grabbed his Grucifix necklace, pulling gently until Aether leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He had blushed so hard it almost looked purple, but he stopped shaking, and Dew counted that as a win.

Especially when they got off stage, and Aether had given him the biggest grin he'd ever seen on the quintessence ghoul's face.

For six years, for as long as they'd been touring together, Aether had sidled up to Dew, leaning down and grinning. "You're not nervous anymore," Dew scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he'd still stand up on his tiptoes to give Aether his preshow good luck kiss.

Aether's not here now. He's retired to work in the infirmary with Omega, and Dew had thought he'd finished processing that. He's dead wrong.

He glances to stage left, to where his Fantomen hangs around the new kid's neck, and it doesn't quite dwarf them the way Dew thought it would when he had first seen the new quintessence ghoul. But it's still strange and unfamiliar, and the pit in his chest wrenches at him, and Dew knows what he has to do.

There's a call for places. Unlike the rest of the band pack, Dew ignores it, stomping across the stage until he gets to Aeon.

They jolt, posture straightening as he approaches, and Dew can't exactly blame them. He's been cold and a little distant from them, but he shakes his head, reaching out to pull them down gently by the tubing on their helmet.

He can't see their expression, just the curve of their lips under their balaclava, but he leans in and kisses right between the horns of their helmet.

"You'll do fine," he says softly, and darts back to his place just as Imperium starts, leaving Aeon to wonder what just happened.

#ok i fucked around with tenses and wrote this while at work so if there's any mistakes that's on me #but again crow your brain is huge and i wanted to jump on this one #dew being reluctantly but genuinely soft to aeon my beloved #dot's writing #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #forlorn_crows #fic request #kiss prompts

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redrobin-detective · 2 years

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how quickly the glamour fades

“What do you think the Captain does in his down time?” Wally asked, squirting a large amount of cheese whiz onto a cracker and eating it. He was still getting used to being the Flash, being in the Justice League alongside his uncle’s friends. They’d helped him grow as a hero and a person over the years and now he was one of them.

“I don’t know, Cap is always working,” Hal said, taking a bit of his pizza. “The guy never quits I’m telling you. If he’s not here, he’s putting out fires in the jungle or fighting space-magic-tentacle monsters or working with an apron at the soup kitchen. I don’t think he knows the meaning of ‘down time’.”

“We all have to take a break sometimes, even gods,” Wonder Woman said with a raised eye brow. She didn’t technically chastise him but Hal’s shoulder crept up to his ears anyway. “Marvel is the personification of the Gods’ will on Earth. He may not require physical rest I’m sure he must take moments to collect himself but it is, surely, none of our business.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Wally said hastily. “I’m still new here, trying to figure everything and everyone out with these big shoes to fill.” He cleared his throat and glanced over at the door Captain Marvel had exited out of a few minutes earlier. “I don’t know Marvel well, he was just a reserve member when I first met him and now we’ve moved into big leagues pretty much at the same time. I guess I’m trying to get to know my fellow newbie, he seems like a really nice guy, someone you’d want to talk to outside of work.”

“Yeah good luck with that,” Hal snorted and preemptively winced from the force of Diana’s glare. “What? Look, I love the big cheese as much as the next guy but he’s hard to pin down! He’ll smile and chat up here at the Watchtower no prob but he won’t go out for a drink, he won’t attend any of Bruce’s fancy parties. Barry used to practically beg the guy to come over and have some of Iris’ cooking and he turned him down every time.” A brief moment of silence as Hal coped with the sudden, casual mention of his best friend. “He’s friendly but not sociable.”

“Perhaps he needs time alone, away from all this,” J’onn said, walking in to stand by Diana. Without being asked, she reached into the cabinet and pulled out his favorite cookies. It could have been telepathy or simply years of love and experience. “As you mentioned, he spends much of his time battling the evils of the world, both the grand and the mundane. He may need solitude to cope.”

“Isolation doesn’t heal anything,” Wally grumbled, playing idly with the cheese whiz can. “The Titans taught me that there’s strength in community. I won’t begrudge the man some alone time but,” he sighed and set the can down. “I don’t know, he smiles like Dick does sometimes, when he’s keeping all the hurt inside. I think he could probably use someone to talk to.”

“He’s a god or something, it’s not like we can relate to him,” Hal sighed. “I’m with ya, Kid. I’d be over the moon if Cap ever decided to hang out after the battle was done but he’s just not that kinda guy.”

“Your kindness is appreciated, Wally but Marvel is entitled to his privacy. Should he ever need that listening ear you suggested, he of course knows he can come to us.” Diana smiled. Wally smiled back but still didn’t feel completely settled. There was something about Captain Marvel that never felt right, like he was only seeing a funhouse mirror version. His smiles were too perfect, his lines so cheesy, almost practiced. In a way, he almost didn’t feel real and that the real person was hiding behind this perfect cardboard cut out they all knew.

“Yeah, okay,” he frowned before perking back up. “Did you guys catch the game last nigh-”

“Don’t get me started squirt my team looked like they were sleepwalking, not playing.”

Hundreds of thousands of miles away in Fawcett City, a boy was cold and he was hungry.

“Achoo!” Billy Batson sneezed. “Ugh either someone’s talking ‘bout me or I’m coming down something.” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his threadbare sweater sleeve. “I don’t even know which is worse.”

It had been warm on the Watchtower when Bill, well Marvel, had finally left. The halls had been crowded and there’d been plenty of food and company. It would’ve been nice to stay but that wasn’t the way things worked. Cap didn’t need food to stay full or heat to keep him warm. He enjoyed the conversation but it felt so empty with the large wall he had to keep around his other life. It was safer this way, for him and for them.

The weather was turning cold and the shelters would have stopped giving out food by this late hour. Another night spent shivering and another night without a meal.

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Billy chattered to himself as he slowly made his way back to the abandoned apartment he’d been sleeping in. “They don’t need to know about this, won’t care about another homeless kid. You’re lucky you get to know them as Marvel, you’re lucky to have Marvel.” He squeezed his eyes shut to fight back tears. It was an honor, a blessing to have the power to help people but oh did it hurt sometimes.

He wished he had someone to talk to about this but all he had was Tawney and the empty throne of the Wizard. There was the League but he couldn’t risk it, Marvel’s good standing was the only way they let him be active without giving away any details. They wouldn’t listen to him anyway, if they knew who their powerhouse really was. The illusion was hard to keep up sometimes but it was all he had.

All the way home, he hummed a tune he’d heard Black Canary humming while doling out portions of pizza and thought of the way Wonder Women’s gentle strong arms had felt around his shoulders and the sound of Lantern’s loud laughter and imagined that he wasn’t alone.

#title is lyrics from FatM Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)#which is the most billy batson song ever #i don't actually know what I was trying to say #just wanted to hit on the inherent dichotomy of Marvel's perception vs reality #and this projection of Marvel as this omnipotent being who works 24/7 and isn't bound by human trappings #only for Billy to be crushing himself under this heavy weight #they want to know cap but think he's not into it while Billy is So Desperate for affection but is too afraid to confide #idk I was in a sad mood and thought of billy and this came out #wrote in 35 minute but 10 minutes were freaking out if Barry was still alive at this point in time before deciding eh whatever #i didnt review this at all lol just wrote the last word and hit post hahaaha #im tired

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sparring-spirals · 2 years

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my proposal: caleb doesnt have frumpkin anymore. there's just a fey cat that keeps popping up at inopportune times and following him around. like hes not called frumpkin anymore, and he's not caleb's any longer. so caleb doesnt have frumpkin. but also. theres a fey cat that likes following him around. wont stop. keeps appearing at the least helpful times. its not his tho.

#i sped wrote a laudna meta at my work desk and then my phone died and im writing this to cheer myself up while i decide whether its worth #it to rewrite it #anyway inherent comedy of people being like 'oh is that kitty yours???' and caleb going 'no.' and like its true. but also. he wont go away.#like frumpkin would agree. its not CALEBS cat but caleb does have a fey cat that hangs around him. u feel me.#critical role #caleb widogast #frumpkin #the mighty nein reunited #(thats the context that sparked this)#shitpost

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dootznbootz · 2 months

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Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".

They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)

I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅

Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂

#I wrote this last night. I'll do the asks I got later. don't worry! :D #I am the cheese god remember?😅#I think these two would try to “out-cheese” each other and whoever is left speechless first loses #“I would forget my own name before I would ever forget you” bullshit. CHEESY #And yes. “I sleep in our nest with you or outside on the dirt” stupidity >:D #I plan for Odysseus as a beggar to ask why she waits so long. As he's been gone a longer amount of time than the time they had together #(Simply asking as reassurance. He knows his answer. Calypso asked him. but what about Penelope?) but she gets mad at the #“Beggar” and pities him as he must be telling the truth about having a miserable life if he never got the chance to know such devotion #How what they have could never be sullied by #something as trivial as distance and years. How the years with him were the best in her life. Only made better by their son.#'My dear Joy made songs and poems about love a reality as that was simply the life we shared. Even separated our 'song' will always echo #no matter how long it's been. I'LL make sure it always does. And I know he's doing the same... That strange man used to say that #even if he died his corpse would drag itself back to us before he'd ever give up.'#...I'm not one for 'odyssey zombie au' but when I first heard it yeah. :'D Came up with this back then #“His eyes as hard as flint or horn-” Bullshit! The sad lil fuck is hiding sobs with coughs and telling her to keep away for fear of her #catching whatever “illness” he has. The nice thing about being disguised as old means sickly old man works.#...#I'm noticing that Odysseus has a lot of silly oneliners while I write Penelope with a shit ton of set up :'D #They are so silly and I love them so much #...I wrote a lot :'D #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #my headcanons #odypen #yahoo!!!#sometimes I wonder if I should tag this with more things but I don't want to taint the regular tags with my bullshit :'D I KNOW I'm insane

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vargaslovinghours · 6 days

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And never let you go ♥

Bonus without the overspill lighting:

#💟#Digital art #Full Art #Art #Edgar #Scriabin #It's that time of year again where I get real sappy about Vargas ♥ Because yes! Once again it is my own personal Vargasversary! 🎊 Yaaaay #Seven years now - I don't know what to do with seven years it feels like a hard to define number haha #Right in the middle between five years and ten years! A while to be certain but hard to define as a Long Time either hmm #Well whatever it doesn't matter <3 The important part is that I still love Vargas and them very much ♥♪#I actually didn't really have any specific plans for this Vargasversary :0 I haven't been drawing them much again #Other things have drawn my focus and attention hehe ♪#So I just kinda set my hand loose - no sketches on paper no defined idea - this is just what my hand/brain came up with in the moment #I'm pleased :) I think it accurately expresses how I feel about them hehe <3 #I wrote down what ended up being the text/caption a couple months ago while I was in Big Love in their direction #I don't remember what inspired it anymore other than just - They ♥ Themst ♥ Do love them <3 #I've planned my next reread now ♪ Barring anything drastic (like an update lol) I know when I'll be rereading next #I'm looking forward to it! :D As always hehe <3 #It's still a bit a ways off which works well for recharging :)#And of course I'll be doing my usual in the meanwhile - this and the main anniversary and my sketchdumps and Requestober haha #The caption is as much me as it is Edgar after all <3 #Even quiet and sleeping I still find them as a comfort - a place I find rest and joy in ♥#Inspiring and lovely and wonderful - pretty and tender and dear!#Oh and #Always finding a way to flip up the bottom of the shirt #Hehe <3

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whatsagirltoblogabout · 7 months

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Opposite of an Intellectual

“The opposite of an intellectual… you really think you could do that, Caffrey?” Jones asked, reading through the cover description.

“Do what?” Neal responded, blinking at them in confusion. Instead of the overly innocent smile that would usually accompany a question like that from Neal, his face was just blank curiosity. It seemed that for once the con man wasn’t messing with them; he just hadn’t been paying attention.

“Be the opposite of an intellectual,” Diana repeated for him with an incredulous chuckle.

Neal’s brows furrowed lightly in confusion. ‘What’s an… intellectual?” he asked, seeming to struggle to recall the word.

Diana scrutinized him, but despite all the years she had spent working with Neal Caffrey, she couldn’t find a single tell that he was lying. By all appearances, Neal Caffrey genuinely did not know the word ‘intellectual.’

“On second thought, that’s kinda scary,” Jones decided, taking an unconscious step backwards. “Please stop.”

Neal finally broke, giving them a devious grin and a theatrical bow. Diana had to admit, seeing firsthand how convincingly Neal could become someone diametrically opposed to his actual self was a bit terrifying. The short demonstration had left her heart pounding and breathing slightly shallow.

“Remember this the next time you doubt me,” Neal warned cheerfully, winking at them before sauntering away. Diana and Jones looked at each other once he was gone.

“That was scary, right?” Jones asked.

“Yeah,” Diana confirmed, “that was definitely scary.”

Then an idea hit her. “I wanna see Peter’s reaction!”

#white collar #white collar fanfic #neal caffrey #diana berrigan #clinton jones #my fics #why am I like this #it's not exactly what I was talking about earlier - no abs unfortunately #but the idea for this came to me while brushing my teeth and I thought might as well write it you know?#so here's this #my first publicly posted white collar fanfiction #and it's exactly 250 words that I wrote in 15 minutes after being struck by inspiration while brushing my teeth #seems about right #of course my life is chaotic like that #I do eventually plan to post stuff to AO3 #but I want my first wc fic on there to be the multichap that I'm working on #so until then this lives here on Tumblr #go easy on me please I wrote this in 15 minutes in the middle of the night #not to dox my timezone but this was literally written from 12:05 - 12:20 AM #so yeah anyway #I made a thing #hope y'all like it #girlwriting

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watermelynn-witch · 9 months

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I found an angel at the bottom of a Pepsi can

it stared up at me and Delicious and Refreshing divine beauty poured out

light dripping into my cup, overflowing onto my lap, onto my floor

light begets darkness

the stain of light cracks open

the darkest shadow with A Taste You Just Can't Beat!

the brand was gone from my Soda can.

an angel feeds on information. thrives on recognition.

the light soaks back into the tiny beast, No Mess Left Behind.

It's Like It Wasn't Even There!

#lynnscription #i wrote this while i was walking home from work #i love the idea of angels being tied to information in some way #and i liked the idea of an angel eating the idea of a corporate brand

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kpforpresident · 10 months

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How are plant shop clexa enjoying summer?

"Ungf Lexa. Fuck. Please don't stop."

"I got you, baby."

"That feels so good-"

"What in the name of margaritas are you two little weirdos up to? Sounds like you're staging a porno in your living room."

Two surprised gazes, one blue, one green, turned from where they had been lovingly beaming at each other to meet Raven's inquisitive brown eyes in their doorway, spare key in hand with her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline.

"Rae, that key is for emergencies only!" An indignant, pink cheeked Clarke managed to squeak out from her face down position on the couch, wiggling slightly to adjust a lump in the terrycloth towel that covered the surface.

"This was an emergency!" Raven spluttered as she inched cautiously into the room, still unsure what her best friend and their partner were up to as Lexa wielded a clear bottle of goo while straddling a topless Clarke. "You weren't answering your phone, and you know I have to be there no later than 5:03 to get the best onion rings at that one happy hour. You promised."

Clarke blew forcefully upwards on an errant piece of hair that was stuck to her cheek, craning her neck best she could to make eye contact with Raven despite her position.

"I'm sorry, Rae- we were at the beach this morning and someone decided that cosmo's newest story of the 'science' behind a base tan was more important than their girlfriend's helpful suggestions to wear sunscreen- Clarke toasted herself today and I'm just easing her pain. Her phone is in the bedroom and we've been coating her in this shit for the past 45 minutes, neither of us heard the phone ring."

Lexa rolled her eyes slightly as she poured another heaping palmful of lube? hair gel? into her hands, warming it between her palms before reaching down to place her fingers gently on Clarke's back.

Raven walked further into the room to peer over the back of the couch, mouth dropping in abject horror when the usually porcelain expanse of Clarke's back came into view.

"Damn, C, it looks like you've been spit roasted over a barbeque."

"Thanks, Rae, I appreciate it. We're not all blessed with melanin and the ability to tan to a beautiful share of caramel, ok?" Clarke muttered darkly as she sat up slowly onto her knees, bringing the towel up to cover her front as Lexa scowled lightly, smoothing the last bits of aloe onto Clarke's angrily pink shoulders.

Raven hooted in disbelief as she surveyed the total expanse of Clarke's lobster red back, the clearly defined bikini link starkly white just under her shoulderblades.

"Nah, gringa, you're gonna peel. You're lucky Lexa loves you, since you'll be shedding like a snake the next few weeks." Raven shook her head while walking into Clarke and Lexa's shared room, rifling through their closet before walking out with a loose camisole in hand, nipple covers in the other.

"C'mon, dry your little aloe tears and let's go, this girl needs a frozen marg and I know you want those fried pickle chips things. The alcohol will dull the pain, I promise."

#i hope i did ok #i wrote this while I should be working on a lit review so RIP me #but I read this ask and then had to #thanks for all being so lovely as i repeatedly fall off the face of the planet this summer #plant shop au #clexa

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evilkitten3 · 3 months

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one of the most frustrating things about reading naruto meta is that every now and then you'll run into a post that's absolutely brilliantly thought out, has stupendous points, and pulls out all the stops on almost every level....

and you just have to stop and wonder how someone can simultaneously be so good at media analysis and so fucking bad at accepting that sometimes authors just cannot and/or will not write female characters on any level

#naruto #naruto shippuden #fandom crit #like how do you manage to process so much multi-layered political ninja stuff #and yet fail to comprehend that sometimes media has misogyny in it #sometimes male authors are simply sexist #bc there are people in this world who can understand the intricacies of the political minefield #but not the concept of women being human beings with the same levels of complexity as men #how do you write so much genuinely incredible and well-thought out meta #and yet still manage to come to the conclusion that a fictional 12yo girl is responsible for how a real life adult man wrote her #like. ?????????#''why didn't [insert girl here] just do [insert thing here]'' bc the author fundamentally does not view women as people next question #like out of all the things in the world of media that are hard to understand #how is ''sexism exists and you see it sometimes'' so high on that list #like ok it's been a while since high school but i thought ''the author's views color their work'' was media literacy 101

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polite-pandemonium · 6 months

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I am just somehow OBSESSED with Takeru DRIVING. Like is he a bad driver? He speeds past the gang waiting outside of Daisuke's restaurant (or the restaurant where Daisuke works, whatever), so maybe? Is that his mom's car? Or is it his car? Why does he NEED a car? What is he doing that requires him to drive? Is it going to be a plot point in the movie? Is Takeru being a BAD DRIVER going to be a plot point? I need to know.

Ken and Miyako are also visibly startled when Takeru speeds past (Miyako JUMPS!!!!), while Iori and Hikari don't even flinch. What does that say about DYNAMIC?! Are Iori and Hikari more used to Takeru's (presumably bad) driving? That would make sense, no, cause they are (canonically???) closer with him? Just such a small interaction and I can interpret so much and draw so many conclusions!!! How fun!!!

There's just something really so fun about watching characters you've loved your whole life continue to grow - to see new details about them spring up, new traits, new things to add to canon. It's the most delightful thing about the Digimon Adventure franchise to me. Sure, the stories they have told over the last decade have mostly been all various shades of mediocre, but the character moments - goodness, the character moments just don't hit the same in any other media for me. It's so special to me.

ETA: WAIT, looking at the screencap, Iori looks slightly concerned. Only Hikari looks calm (though she does turn her whole body to look at the car once it stops). Does this mean HIKARI is the only one comfortable with his driving? Cause Hikari is closest to him? (I don't even think their closeness is something that is debatable - I feel like it is PRETTY CANON that they are closest with each other???????????)

HERE'S HOW TAKARI CAN STILL WIN.

#if anyone wants to talk about Takeru DRIVING please DM me lmaooo #I think a big reason about why I am obsessed with it is because when I write/wrote Digimon fanfic #I was always VERY CAREFUL to make sure the characters took transit or walked places #motor vehicle ownership is very low in Japan and I want to make my fics feel as real as possible while still being fanfiction #so it wouldn't make sense for any of the Chosen to drive #SO TAKERU DRIVING????#IS SENDING ME TO ANOTHER LEVEL #if only for the TRANSPORTATION POSSIBILITIES it will open up for me when/if I ever finish writing something again #also - car conversations #car intimacy #SO MANY THINGS TO CONSIDER #I'm done #I'm going to bed #I'm really bored cause I am leaving for vacation in ten days and so are all my friends #so the thing about going on vacation with the people you hang out with a lot is that everyone is preparing to go on vacation at the same ti #so everyone is the same kind and amount of busy #the last minute errands and appointments and wrapping up work and getting ready to abandon your regularly scheduled life for two weeks kind #so I'm....not doing much lately lol #hence my losing it over this #digimon

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