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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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imitationpersonne · 4 years

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Get to Know the Blogger

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen! Repost, don’t reblog!

1. FIRST NAME: My alias is KumaraDosha, and you can call me that, Kumara, Mara, or something else you have learned I go by. :3c

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: I have an extra half a vertebra in my lumbar spine, bigger on the left side, that makes my back less stable and more susceptible to pain and injury, and part of the reason I had to change my career from being a surgical technologist was because of that wear and tear.

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: ...I really don’t know how to answer this. Attraction is so finicky for me, and “aesthetically pleasing” really just depends on the person. I guess all I can say is the most identifiable “type” of person I’d be attracted to are sort of...waifish women? Maybe Scandinavian features, IDK. Something vaguely similar to Anya Taylor-Joy’s soft looks, any hair color.

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: Ice cream/shakes.

5. A FOOD YOU HATE: Olives.

6. GUILTY PLEASURE: Assigning characters of different fandoms Homestuck godtier classes and aspects.

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: Usually an old, big shirt and pajama pants.

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: Serious relationships only, if not neither.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: I might go back and pick sonography as my major first, instead of trying nursing school, getting psychologically abused and mistreated by nursing teachers, having a breakdown and quitting, getting a surgical technology degree after being treated poorly by teachers/students/staff, quitting surgical tech work after 3 years due to depression/anxiety and physical strain, then coming back to school for a third time with past healthcare-school trauma and trying to get a bachelor’s in sonography. Then again, I learned a whole lot--educationally, about life, about the behaviors and cultures of healthcare workers, and about how people are--in those other schools/professions, so I’m not sure that’s worth giving up? I’d be very much richer right now, though, and not dependent on family or in debt. Plus, surgical technology is actually really cool (and still very much a passion of mine), and I don’t want to give those experiences and memories up. So maybe I’d just nix the nursing school, do surgical tech for a few years, and then go for sonography. Who knows, man; life and its consequences are so unpredictable.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: Probably not. I am very sensitive to rejection if I’ve been honest or vulnerable, so I usually only gush over people I trust and honestly feel that way about.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: I really don’t know if there’s any like that for me?? But I guess The Signal is a movie I like to show people and watch with them, because many haven’t seen it, and I find it fascinating. I also love Tron Legacy a whole lot.

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: I would choose a Samoyed dog, if I were able to have it well-taken-care-of (which I can’t do at this point, which is why I don’t have one).

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS: Oh boy, uh. At the moment? It’s hard for me to give any ultimate lists, because they can all be terribly mishandled or cringe depending on how they’re portrayed, which often somehow turns out to be popular in the fandom, and that spoils it for me a little bit... You know what, screw the rules; I’ma throw out a bunch--six from BNHA that I favor atm and then a diverse cast of some oldies I still like that will be more than five. Not particularly in order of rank...

From BNHA, Monoma Neito x Shinsou Hitoshi; Monoma Neito x Midoriya Izuku; Monoma Neito x Kuroiro Shihai (there may or may not be huge RP bias here); Bakugou Katsuki x Uraraka Ochaco; Bakugou Katsuki x Todoroki Shouto; Shigaraki Tomura x Dabi.

From other fandoms... Kuja x Terra (Dissidia Final Fantasy), Genos x Sonic (One Punch Man), Akabane Karma x Asano Gakushu (Assassination Classroom), Beyond Birthday x L Lawliet (Death Note, but ONLY from an epic-long series of canon-divergent fanfictions that nobody’s going to have heard of), Yami Bakura x Yami Yugi (Yu-Gi-Oh!), Aoba x Noiz (Dramatical Murder), Matsuoka Rin x Nanase Haruka (Free!), Eridan Ampora x Sollux Captor (Homestuck), Caliborn x Dirk Strider (Homestuck), The Batter x Zacharie (OFF), Sniper x Spy (Team Fortress 2). ...The hate/enemies/rivals ships are kind of a theme, aren’t they.

15. PIE OR CAKE: Cake.

16. FAVORITE SCENT: At the moment, I really like the Snowflakes and Cashmere body wash at Bath and Body Works. Also Butterfly Flower. Also give me baking cookies or blueberry muffins.

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: They all disappoint me. They’re just human beings, often not very good ones.

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: Heaven, bitch. (Okay, maybe an island resort or a cruise or something.)

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: Introvert who can appear extremely extrovert in comfortable company. I guess ambivert fits better.

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: Depends. In real life, I’d say not really, but if you can find a way to trigger my imaginative paranoia, then maybe. I can’t play scary video games, because they make me way too tense, but I absolutely love watching other people play them, and I get very scared, especially by jumpscares (but in a fun way, LOL). I also love watching horror movies (though most are embarrassingly un-scary). I do not like jumpscares in movies. Cheap. I also love reading/hearing creepy stories that are presumably true (that’s usually what triggers my imaginative paranoia and puts me in a bad headspace, but whoops, still interesting to me).

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: I’ve only ever had iPhone.

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: Yeah. I wish I played more, but I seem to procrastinate a lot on playing games for some reason, and I’m not that good besides. I prefer PC to consoles, and I have tons and tons of games on Steam (many that I haven’t gotten around to trying yet), but I also have a PS4 and Nintendo Switch. Games of note that I have played a decent bit are Zelda Breath of the Wild, Fallout 4, Skyrim, Darkest Dungeon, Smash, Saints Row 3 and 4, many of the Final Fantasy games... And a heck ton more, uh.

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: Pay off debts, share with family/friends, charity, invest in rich people stocks or whatever, and also live a nice-ass life. Honestly not sure if I’d quit working entirely...? I tend to get depressed if my life doesn’t have meaning like that. I have to give something back to the world. Besides, a million dollars literally lasts like under 20 years in normal circumstances...? That’s not something you retire on as a young person, unless you’re investing well...which I would need help figuring out how to do. I hate managing money.

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: Off the top of my head, probably Jane Crocker and Aranea from Homestuck.

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: Trigun fandom! I still love that series...!

tagged by: @galaxythixf

tagging: You, but only if you like me, even if from afar. :3c

#OOC #personal #dash games

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