#i had way too much fun writing this

[fukashiin]

how they admire you from afar

— w. ace, deuce, floyd, kalim, jamil

⤷ times when they stare at you and think "wow theyre pretty"

ACE TRAPPOLA

- you? beautiful? him staring at you because of it?

- audacious. seriously

- he stares at you so much and he hates YOUR guts for it somehow

- like why do you have to look so breathtaking when doing the most ordinary of tasks? do you WANT him to stare at you? (not like you’re aware of how much he does anyway)

- and you miss the salty side eye he gives to the previous person you were talking to

- fail to notice the subtle pouts he sends your way and he ignores you back for the next week

- like literally what is his problem

- but the time he spends trying to “ignore” you doesn’t last for long

- because. you don’t know. how beautiful you are in his eyes.

- scribbles the most illegible notes down in his journal back in his dorm because he just can’t get rid of the sight of your face (no human is supposed to be that pretty. he’s just being ridiculous)

- posts weirdly ominous captions on his magicam stories about how “he’s going to lose it” or “how can someone be THAT blind?” 

- he removed you from his close friends just so you couldn’t view it

- and he’s still wondering why you aren't taking the hint? ace please wake up you're going to harvard

- the next day is his basketball tournament. you were invited

- and the moment he was about to shoot the ball through the basket, he saw you amongst the crowd, cheering for him, yelling his name, encouraging him to score a point for NRC’s team

- he misses the shot with his hand a centimeter away from the basket and the ball bounces off the ring

- the whistle blows and the tension falls off of everyone’s shoulders

- he’s not ashamed in the least. in fact he was still focusing on you. why did you look so confused? head tilted and everything? now is not the time to distract him when he’s in a tournament you know? this is a very important day for him and he absolutely cannot miss this shot.

- he comes back to his senses when both teams that were competing against each other disappeared from the ring. only turns out it was time to take a break and he was informed of his foolish mistake 

- he sees you running up to him, scoffs, and turns away

- why do you have to put him through so much? just when will you notice his dumb advances towards you?

- but all his thoughts dissipate into thin air when you smile at him so sweetly and reassure him that he’ll do better the next round

- he really hates you

- and he’s really down bad for you

DEUCE SPADE

- no. he can’t accept this. he won’t accept this. what happened to his first priority to become NRC’s notable honour student?

- stage 1: denial

- his gaze settles on you entirely, while you’re taking notes in class and you’re unaware of a hungry gaze that burns into the back of your head

- deuce then realises that he’s been balancing on the front two legs of his seat this entire time

- slips and hits his chin directly on the edge of the desk when mr. crewel calls out his name

- pull out the bandages with my melody characters cutely printed onto them, he’s going to need it 

- but when your hands come in contact with his skin

- he absolutely

- FOLDS

- “let me bandage it up for you” you said. “i promise it won’t hurt one bit” you SAID

- stares at you the whole time while you’re focused on cleaning his bruise (caused by you)

- he takes notice of the bandages and feels the childish tears pricking at his eyes (caused by you)

- mutters a weak ‘thank you’ once you’re done and when you push your hair back to get rid of the accumulated sweat on your forehead, he feels an arrow shooting right through his heart

- can he blame you? everything you do is just so seemingly flawless and attractive that he can’t help but wonder if he’s truly worthy of your attention. after all, you are aware of his past 

- spams his mother’s phone once he’s back at the dorm in the evening, telling her that there’s this person who’s so drop-dead gorgeous that he can’t get them out of his mind and he’s begging her, asking her what he should do with such unfamiliar feelings that poke at his heart

- except ms spade was probably dealing with a workload that evening and had her notifications off for the entire day (and probably forgot in the process so she’s worried about his son not texting her for one whole day)

- they’re bothj so silly

- the next couple of days fly by, same as ever, with deuce admiring your features at the other side of the table while you help wipe the crumbs off of grim’s face during lunch

- his entire thought process was just about how dreamy you were, he’s so lovestruck it’s insane

- and great seven does he thank them above for being able to live this day

- because you suddenly remembered that your fridge back at ramshackle dorm was out of stock

- so you offered deuce this golden opportunity to head to sam’s store together to help shop for missing groceries that you desperately needed to fill your fridge again 

- he snaps out of his own thoughts and nods his head. violently. was he trying to mimic those bobble head figures?

- you were content and looked at him with that killer-smile

- instant K.O

- ace watches from the sidelines and gets up to purchase another deluxe steak hamburger that the cafeteria was handing out for a limited time

FLOYD LEECH

- completely ditches his work at mostro lounge just to sit at the booth you’re at to stare at you

- he doesn’t even say anything

- he just stares

- maybe even twirls a lil strand of your hair if you consent to that

- and he’s completely head-over-heels for you. but who knows that other than jade and azul thanks to their gifted intuition? not you, for all they know

- absolute menace

- casually slings an arm around your shoulders, wrap his arms around your waist from behind-he does all of these and starts a countdown out of nowhere for the person that you were conversing with to get away from the two of you

- you: (　ﾟдﾟ) Floyd: (*^ω^*)

- what’s that about personal space??? yeah he has zero idea of what that is while he continues staring at you

- your lips to be specific.

- every part of you just seems so-pretty? whenever you two have mixed classes together all his thoughts go right through the window and you’re the only thing that his eyes see

- leaves the classroom feeling pretty goofy. slacks his arms behind his head and accidentally whacks a student right in the face with his elbow

- hallway chases are nothing new

- you have to run twice as fast as you do in PE

- he justt thinks you’re so cute the nicknames are endless

- “my adorable shrimpy” “my cutesy little sherbet in a cup” “my one and only mike wazowski”

- they’re not even related to sea animals anymore

- revoke his pet name privileges please

KALIM-AL-ASIM

- smitten the moment he makes eye contact with you

- menace number #2 (lovingly)

- what’s wrong? you don’t want a costly chandelier installed in ramshackle’s lounge? Funny! kalim does not bother and your complaints fall on deaf ears

- cups his cheeks in his hands and kicks his legs while he watches you from afar like a little high school girl

- he has a big fat crush on you and he isn’t afraid to show it

- INSISTS jamil that they should bring back every traditional cuisine from their hometown for you to try out

- sends unprofessionally written love letters onto ramshackle’s doorstep when he’s away for the holidays (jamil modified some parts of the letter to not make it too hard to understand)

- think his only love language is giving gifts? absolutely not. doesn’t even know what the five love languages are but masters them all (and it doesn't even take him any strenuous effort)

- rambles to jamil about how beautiful you are during lunch. proceeds to even make an hour-long powerpoint presentation to show to his 30 younger siblings back at home with low-quality images downloaded from shutterstock.

- “how pretty are they?” “are you two going to get married?” “can i see them in person some time? I’ll be nice!”

- no you did NOT give him permission. but you’re okay with that. you love him too much to scold him anyway<333 

- one time you were invited to scarabia’s dorm where they were holding a large banquet (kalim sat beside you and mindlessly kept placing portions of food from the table onto your own plate-it started overflowing you HAD to stop him from grabbing the tongs)

- by the time everything was settled, you went back to your own dorm to get a goodnight’s rest

- but kalim was so adamant on not letting you go that a student from his dorm basically had to rip him off of your figure 

- he loves you and your cute face so much 

- scratch that he loves everything about you from head to toe

- when he was back in his room daydreaming about you, he heard the door burst open

- turns out it was jamil needing to inform him about the upcoming dorm leader meeting happening the next day

- kalim accidentally called him “teddy bear” thinking it was you who decided to come back and give him a farewell kiss

- jamil took his first shot that day

JAMIL VIPER

- jamil viper is not like the other guys

- no he’s different

- he stubbornly pushes all his surfacing feelings down and outwardly ignores the elephant in the room!

- which is his abrupt crush on you

- but seriously-he has no idea what to do

- when you offered to help him make dishes for the next dorm feast scarabia was having

- he couldn’t stop staring at the way your hands handled the kitchen utensils so effortlessly 

- and how you looked so laser focused on chopping the ingredients with beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead

- he’s DEFINITELY not into you at all. there’s nothing outstanding about you. he does not think you’re even pretty in the least. (press X to doubt)

- kalim takes notice frustratingly quick and suddenly he’s not a dorm leader anymore but a persuasive wingman

- kalim: you like them right??? do you want me to confess to them for you???? i promise i wont make you look stupid!

- jamil: PLEASE STO

- but when you start to become aware of the subtle signs and how he’s much more softer when it comes to you, jamil assures you that you had no fault in this at all and he’s stupid for letting such affection get to his head

- “It’s not you, it’s me.”

- (he secretly tells himself that it is kind of you because you’re just too charming to take his eyes off of??? inflexible much)

- but he still continues to stare at you. he doesn’t even know if it’s out of pure habit or if he’s just shameless anymore (news flash: it’s both)

- throw your personality into the mix and he’s very much in love

- and you were kind enough to not pay mind to it. when you do notice and call him out-he’s flushed. he’s flustered. bro ascended.

- and when you do accept his feelings, he’s relieved. he even offers to cook for you every day 24/7. and you’re rather surprised at his ability to balance all his responsibilities on his shoulders without a single slip up.

- sometimes kalim would walk with you guys in the hallway when arriving to your locker to pick up some books for your next lesson. jamil doesnt particularly mind but

- why does it feel like he’s the one who’s third wheeling?

- but in all honesty, he doesn’t mind in the least

- because he knew that you reciprocate his feelings so sincerely-and he’s grateful for it.

- mega W if you start dating jamil you won in life

#i had way too much fun writing this #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper

[lvpislvzuli]

Avatar 2 characters as iconic Vines

Jake @ Lo’ak: when will you learn?! When will you learn?!? That your actions have CONSEQUENCES!

Neytiri the entire movie: release all of the sounds that are trapped in your mind… “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaahhh”

Neteyam the entire movie: aaaaa…Aaaaa…AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Lo’ak the entire movie: Kevin—Kevin don’t—Kevin, watch the light dude! *smashes light*

Tuk getting captured by the RDA: Well, when life gives you lemons!

Kiri watching her bros fighting with Ao’nung: can I get a waffle? Can I pleeeaase get a waffle?

Spider @ Kiri: don’t tell your mother 😏 kiss one another 😏 DIE FOR EACH OTHER!!!!

Tsireya @ Lo’ak: accept yourself! Love yourself! Accept Yourself!

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #lo’ak #neteyam #kiri #spider socorro #neytiri #jake sully #tuktirey #tsireya #I had way too much fun writing this #funny vines #rip vine

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #002 Symbiote

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on the 5th of September 2004, one year and a month after the Autobots have made their presence known and begun corresponding with human personnel. So far there have been no issues with [Redacted]'s presence in [Redacted: Classified information] aside from their occasional bouts of paranoia.

[Redacted] has proven useful in compiling information and cataloging data for government agents when not having their statements taken. There has been little for us to ask them as we have been processing their prior statement and doing our best to apply what useable information came with it. However the Autobots recently requested access to high caliber machinery and vehicles. They claim it is so that they can scan the vehicles in question and take on their form as they have already shown possible with their acquisition of alternate modes in the form of civilian transports.

This request caused some concern amongst high command, and so to gain greater insight before we offer a response, [Redacted] was asked to explain in greater detail the process by which Cybertronians take on their vehicular modes and what it entails. As usual, their statement is concerning but fascinating.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════'

Ah yes, our ability to adapt yet again rears its helm, or I suppose head would be the proper term for you organics... Whatever the case, it is a fascinating subject. Compared to the mental adaptation we Cybertronians undergo when associating with a new race, our physical adaptations are less... prominent. Well, at least to you organics.

We didn't always have T-cogs you know. In the very beginning, when the first of us were forged... we had no such ability. Only one of the original Thirteen possessed the ability to transform, and it was from his great gift we have the ability now. But of course, with all gifts from gods, there is a price attached to it.

Nothing is ever without consequence.

Are you confused yet? I suppose you would be. You don't even know who the Thirteen are do you? That is a story for another time. For now all you need to know is that the Thirteen are the minor deities that serve our creator, and each of them had gifts and powers, some of which have been granted to us. Enough of that though, I should get back on topic.

The T-cog is one of our most vital organs when it comes to surviving on other worlds. However it is not a natural part of our biology, at least not when we are first forged. The T-cog is a symbiote that we infuse into our beings. With that said, it is not an easy symbiote to obtain for all sorts of reasons. Aside from the plethora of medical complications that come from attempting to swap T-cogs or infuse a mech with a symbiote from one of the dead, T-cog symbiotes only come from the Well with the newly forged. A grown mech cannot go down to the Well in search of a new symbiote and hope to survive. The symbiotes down there would simply avoid or devour the mech in question, sucking them dry of power and serving no purpose without the vital co-dependent growth that our young and the symbiote undergo together.

Yes, yes I will explain the specifics of what the T-cog does in a moment. Do not rush me. The history is just as vital as the function.

Now, as I was saying, the symbiote attaches itself to a developing protoform long before the spark of it is fully connected. The symbiote leeches off the energy being used to grow the protoform and so to survive and continue feeding, it adapts. The immune systems of our young can sense an invader once the spark fully settles, so to avoid being destroyed, the symbiote changes to match our biology as much as it can. It reads our innate preference for adaptation and it shifts. It looks into the code of our newsparks and deep in the dark of our maker's frame it merges with the body of its host.

That concept must be terrifying to you humans, right? Such a leech would kill you, but for us? No, for us the T-cog is a blessing that comes with a few... downsides.

The T-cog constantly feeds off us in a steady drain. Thus to remain stable we consume energon more frequently as we age until our systems settle and the symbiote fully merges with our biology and receives energon as much as the rest of our frames. It can be rather painful during those early vorns as the symbiote settles and energon is siphoned from other organs. We always take great care to watch over our young during that time. While it is undesirable and quite possibly a death sentence, an overactive T-cog can and often is removed during this stage. If the mech is lucky, they may be able to acquire another due to their youth, but as a general rule, mecha who fail to bond to their T-cog are bipedal for life.

That whole bonding process takes up to ten vorns, roughly two to three hundred years for you little things. Once complete, the T-cog finally brings some benefits. The symbiote has no intelligence, but it has enough of a mind to be able to force our innate ability to adapt into overdrive. It merges with our already present minor transformation capabilities to grant us the ability to take on the vehicular mode of machines. Of course what we can transform into depends on the symbiote, how fully it integrated, and how large the mech in question is.

There is a great deal of biological lingo involved that I neither know or care for, so to put it simply, the T-cog attaches to our sensory and processing systems. It gains a certain degree of control and we gain the ability to take on the forms of other vehicles through mass displacement and simple reformatting. By the time the symbiote settles there aren't usually any issues, but if damaged it can begin acting strangely. There have been cases where removed T-cogs have been returned to their hosts only to then fail to allow the mech to replicate an alternate mode properly. Those situations... are often rather disgusting to see, even for our kind.

The forms those poor mecha bear due to the damage sustained to their symbiotes... it is safe to say they often forgo transformation unless required, hoping and praying that it fixes itself.

To conclude this statement, I would guess that the Autobots are asking for higher caliber vehicles simply so that they need not waste energy obtaining more alternate modes. It consumes a great deal of energy and the symbiotes are more likely to... cause great bodily distress if pushed too far with too many new alternate modes. I personally wouldn't worry too much about it. Alternate modes are merely our way of blending in, at least on a backwater world like yours. If your technology was more worthy of note, I would say hide your vehicles, but as it is, my kin are more dangerous in their root modes than in their alt.

══════════════════'

[Statement ends.

It was rather concerning how calm [Redacted] was when giving their statement compared to their prior experience. It seems that [Redacted] is most comfortable discussing topics of old history and biology and panics when asked to answer questions relating to more recent history or events.

This information is useful, but it does raise a few concerning questions.

How often have these aliens altered their forms and biology? What even are they at their core? Its obvious by interacting with [Redacted] that not all Cybertronians are as [Redacted] claims, but that makes me wonder... Do these aliens even know what they are? Or has it all been lost with time, war, and constant adaptation?

Whatever the case, it is currently irrelevant. [Redacted] will reveal more with time, and eventually I am sure these questions will answer themselves.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #the grim dark archives #statement recording #[redacted] #agent witwicky #alternate universe #rewrite of canon #cybertronian biology #grimdark #mystery #I had way too much fun writing this #Its so fun messing around with concepts to make my fav robots creepy #at this point I don't even care if you lot like my work #this is too fun and an excellent writing challenge

[autumnaaltonen]

How do you think alucard would react to a gen z humor? For example: would he enjoy tiktok and vine? Would he be confused by our memes? How would he react to our self-deprecating humor?

This will be a running theme in my fanficiton, so I'm all for this. Also, I am barely Gen Z, and continuously learn new slang from my students, so excuse the cringe 😅

In my personal opinion, Alucard very much gives supportive grandpa vibes.

He's happy to view whatever "KidToks", "YouViews", or "Bumblr" memes you shove in his face. He's not going to understand it, but he's happy to watch if it makes you smile.

He really loves BookTok for reading material when he's chillin in the dungeon, especially murder mysteries and modern fantasy.

When he first got a taste of your Vine-Vocab, he legit just thought that was the way you spoke.

Seras delivering you a birthday gift: "so you just gonna bring me a birthday gift on my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift?"

Giving the Hellsing taskforce driving directions for their next mission: "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."

Joining him in the shooting range for target practice: "Don't fuck with me! I have the power of God and anime on my side!"

When you eventually informed him it was from a dead meme-site that defined your generation, he was very impressed that you young-folk have such an extensive reference log to communicate with each other.

Like I said, grandpa vibes.

His favorite moments are when your Gen Z slang is directed at him. He has no idea what you're talking about, but he loves it cus it's you. You love it too, because you can use it to your advantage and flirt with him incognito.

"Alucard, I admire the 40s coat and sunhat drip, but it's a little camp these days. We really need to give you a glow up."

"I saw the footage from your last mission, and I have to say, you were an absolute snack. Totally bussin'."

"You high-key live in my head, rent-free, Alucard."

He enjoys your silly words. Such admirable youth.

But when it came to your self-deprecating humour, it was kind of 50/50 for him. He understands it with no issues, and as long as it wasn't too hurtful towards yourself, he thought it was hilarious.

"Sorry, demons! There’s no room inside me because I’m self-possessed." Hella relatable for him.

"I question my sanity a lot of times. Every now and then, it replies." He's like, "same."

You'd think he would enjoy it all, given his dark-humour streak. However, when you talk too poorly about yourself, it really puts a damper on his mood.

Even though he's a grandpa, we have to remember that Alucard is incredibly intelligent. So whenever you're shitting on yourself, he plays your game to his advantage.

You: "I'm the human equivalent of a typo."

Alucard: "But you'll always be my type."

Wait. What?

You: "If I remember correctly, the last time that I was someone’s type was when I was donating blood in the blood drive."

Alucard: "I had it for my dinner last week, it was one of the best bags I've ever drank."

Motherfucker. There more you try to put yourself down, the more creative he gets. It's like a ping-pong game of put-downs and affectionate counter-attacks.

You: "My life’s purpose is to be a cautionary tale for others."

Alucard: "I'll just have to be your happily-ever-after."

You: "I wouldn’t even settle for me, so why would you?"

Alucard: "Because we could be settling together in my coffin when we sleep."

You: "When I’m ready to sleep, I don’t bother checking if my foot is hanging off the end of my bed anymore. Come get me, demons."

Alucard: "Is that a proposition?"

You finally admit defeat, as your red cheeks and blood pressure could only handle so much.

Damn that sexy old man.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #alucard x reader #I had way too much fun writing this

[thatgirl4815]

Tankhun after pretending Kinn is dead: “Why can’t I play?”

Porsche: *glares*

*Porsche, in his head*: Because he left us handcuffed together for three days so he could get to know me better and I taught him how to fish and we sorta kinda kissed by a waterfall and I told him about my beach bar dreams and he sung for me and we fell off a cliff together and should’ve died but we didn’t and he said he was sorry and I said I’d lose my hand for him and he said he’d tell you all that I died so I could go free, maybe because I would lose a hand for him, maybe because he crossed my line, or maybe because he likes it when I’m happy and then we kissed for real and I was actually sober this time! and then he took a bullet for me and-

#so... #this was purely to relieve the build-up of emotions currently raging inside of me #but I'm fine #i'M fiNe srsly #please disregard #kinn x porsche #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche brain rot #kinn porsche #kinn and porsche #kinnporsche side story #I had way too much fun writing this

[roaringwish]

That okina does stand up(?) comedy at the mystia izakaya local on saturday night. All creepy and uncanny gone its just funny woman complaining about kids and starting each anectode with "my weird girlfriend once said-" and everyone is left in fucking shambles every night except yukari, who has to live with the fact that even Yuyuko quotes her stories nonstop.

Putting this under readmore bc it got long but gdfdhgfjh

"Kids these days don't respect their elders, don't bow to their kami and worst of all? They don't take care of their belongings."

*mild laughter*

"Don't you believe me?"

*snickering*

"I came across a daughter I apparently have. Why didn't I know of them beforehand? Because last time I saw them, they were a set of noh masks."

*laughter*

"I gifted these masks to someone who shall not be named..."

"...a past lover."

*laughter*

"And what did she do to them? Precisely. Squat."

"The next thing I know is that they're standing beside my bed at 3 am with eyes as big as plates, asking me to clean them up a little."

"I tell them: My child, wherever have you come from? They say: *uncanny impression of Kokoro’s voice* hinoki wood” *facepalms*

*laughter*

“I suspected as much!”

*mild laughter*

“...but whose boxes were you stored in?”

“We don’t remember having a box. We were sleeping in Prince Shoutoku’s storage somewhere.”

*audience “ooh”s*

*exasperated* “That moment I got up and sat on the side of my bed like I’m hungover.”

*mild laugh*

“Every wrong decision I ever made flickered through my mind as I rubbed the dream out of my eyes. I concluded that wooing the prince regent of the Yamato court was one of them.”

*roaring laughter*

*shouting* “BECAUSE SHE DOES NOT HAUNT ME LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. SHE NEEDS TO IGNORE MY FAVORS ENOUGH SO THAT THEY COME ALL THE WAY OVER THE HEAVENLY RIVER AND STAND BESIDE MY BED LIKE AMIDA BUDDHA WAITING TO TAKE ME TO THE PURE LAND. “

*laughter*

“Except I’m being waited upon to be taken to Hell.”

“And don’t think she’s that old, oh no! Most of you here are below the age of 500, I’m well aware.  But when I say kids these days that includes her.”

*laughter*

“That was not a joke.”

#ask #anon #I had way too much fun writing this

[cwarscars]

🤬

SEND 🤬 FOR MY MUSE TO GO ON A RANT ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

his heart is gripped by heat - a swell of flame that burns his insides. his chest swelled, breaths hasty. the deep inhales & exhales of a man, furious.

were he a sensitive sort, perhaps even a kinder man - he'd do his best to hide his disdain. lather lips with a crooked grin, gnaw fangs into the cushion of his tongue in the hopes he'd stop himself from shouting. perhaps his own coolness could quell the flame of his fury, deliver an icy edge to skin reddened with rage. unfortunately for anyone - heidegger is anything but kind.

the second indication of his anger is a balled fist that crashes into a nearby wall - moulded bricks battered by the scarred-ridge of his knuckles. a wince when pain brings forth blood atop his fingers. the general barely pays mind to the singe across his scars - his own anger, forever paired with pain. by now, he's made an old friend of them both. grown so used to his own fury that one would not be seen without the other. anger without pain. the two without heidegger.

hazel eyes look a murky sort beneath the furrow of his brow, his lips thin lines around fangs, a muscular face - gaunt with rage.

"how you're still alive escapes me-" his words taste venomous, spoken with the scowl of a man who only drinks poison "like a cockroach. you keep on going. keep on surviving..."

where is the honour-?! where is the pride - ?! godo fights as if he were in a movie ! fights less like a man and more like a poster boy !

hell, heidegger can still recall the events of that day - their battle. blood creeping from the corners of his lips, a hitch in his breath as the other stared down at him. the sharp edge of agony atop his chest, now a ragged dent forever unmoved.

that cheap motherfucker-! that goddamn, son-of-a-bitch!

"you had no idea! no idea at all-" his rage begins to best him, those clenched fists - nails bedding into palms, the draw of blood that softens skin "of what you did to me! what i lost!"

the top spot. the respect. salutes that meant something, scars that meant more.

before their battle, heidegger had been not only a man ( or poster boy, or movie star, or shinra lapdog ) but he'd been a warrior. more than propaganda, more than a word on another man's lips. he'd been a blade. a threat. no creaking joints, no daily medication, no furious anger wielded unarmed. the respect of others was worth something, the respect from himself - more.

but after his defeat; after godo's wrath...

how could a man feel any sort of pride? a lie bore by their battle; their duel a draw but both men know the truth, and fuck-

what stings more? his scars? godo's strength? or his lie-?

"all because you fought without honour - all because you cheated!" his rage has words spat through clenched teeth, the sharp beat of his heart enough pain now to have his head dropping and his steps weary. he hesitates on a breath, his anger seething through the pores of old scars and creased wrinkles. a moment's pause, anger turning tranquil because why bother with the lie when each man knows better. "...i hate you, godo-" a step forth has him close enough to the king to rest a hand atop his shoulder, fingers that fall along skin - that grow harsh as he speaks. their closeness, intimate - his hand, almost ready to choke the other. "despise you-"

because you were better than me. because you deserved to win.

"despise you because you should have-" his fingers are a clench around godo's neck - a threat that fails to act, a moment's closeness, raw. a heat between them, a fire that burns ( that has always burned ).

you should have killed me.

but he'll never say it. oh god no, he wouldn't.

instead, his other hand greets the stubble of godo's cheek - hands firm in their hold, a press of his mouth onto the other. hot and wet, his lips are harsh; a kiss that begs to bite. anger that keeps his hands, still & cruel.

"you should have died."

#(answered) #i had WAy too much fun writing this #btw ily bae howre u #im sorry i lowkey ship them but also hate them #alSO this is meant to be a ref to godfather part 2 - when he kisses fredo and says 'you broke my heart' #that whole kiss of death shit idk #(ic) #bet u regret picking up godo now owo

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober Prompt Day Six! Prompt: "I can't wait for you"

Pairing: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira (Resident Evil)

Read story below or on Ao3!

Jill can feel the sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades, her tank top clinging to her like a second skin. She ignores it, ignores the feeling of the heat pressing all around her, damp and stifling, and focuses instead on checking her weapon, the ammo she has left. There’s still plenty, more than enough. No need to worry just yet. Not about that anyway.

But the numbers on her team are dwindling little by little and the enemy is still out in full force, hunting the rest of them down. And Jill knows that she can’t stay here forever, hidden in what might’ve once been a shed, but now is barely four walls and a roof. Though the spaces between the wooden slats are big enough for the muzzle of a gun, so maybe it’s not entirely useless. But if someone were to find her…well…she’d be cornered. Trapped. Game over, unless she could pull the trigger fast enough.

Satisfied with the state of her weapon, Jill exhales and wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand. The gesture is useless considering the stagnant air, the palpable heat, and she doesn’t bother to try again, leaving the beads of sweat that collect to take their place. 

Movement outside the shack catches her attention and Jill turns, gun drawn and finger on the trigger as the door swings open. Immediately the sight of loose curls and an easy grin have her muscles relaxing, the muzzle lowering.

Carlos holds up a hand, amused. “Whoa, don’t shoot. I come in peace.” 

Jill relaxes her trigger finger, peering behind Carlos before allowing herself to be satisfied with the fact that he’s alone. “I was starting to think they’d gotten you,” she remarks. “You’ve been gone a while.”

“Nah, I’m un fantasma,” he assures her. “They’ve got no chance.” 

Carlos, for all his bulk, is surprisingly quiet when he puts his mind to it, so Jill doesn’t doubt this in the slightest. Not that their opponents are as dense as some of the undead and B.O.W.s they’ve faced down, but Jill is certain it would take a little bit of luck for them to catch Carlos sneaking around. 

“I did find Rebecca,” Carlos continues, pointing in some vague direction behind him, his meaning obscured by the closed door. “We should probably go give her a hand. They’ve got her pinned down but if we come around from the left flank we can probably catch them off guard and at least give her cover to slip away.” 

Jill nods, trying to visualize the scenario Carlos has described. Of course, it’s impossible without getting a look at the terrain herself. She’d had so little time to familiarize herself with their surroundings because everything had started and her focus had been purely on finding cover and trying to strategize on the go with Carlos and the rest of the team. Now she thinks there’s hardly anyone left: her and Carlos and Rebecca, for now, and maybe Sheva somewhere, though it’s been a while since she’d caught sight of the woman. Something tells her that Sheva is still hanging on, creeping around without anyone’s knowledge just like Carlos had done, scouting out their enemies and making a plan on the fly. 

“Sounds good,” she says, giving her weapon a final check before reaching up again absently to wipe at the sweat at the nape of her neck. “Let’s move out.” 

Carlos smirks but says nothing. Wisely. Instead, he nods, glancing at his own weapon. “Okay, just give me a few. I need to reload.” 

Jill lifts her eyebrows, her expression of exasperation mostly for show. “I can’t wait for you.”

Carlos feigns a wounded expression, hand over his heart. “Siempre los que amas.” He shakes his head, ignoring Jill’s rather impressive eye roll. “I thought we were a team?” 

“Well…what about Rebecca?” Jill points out, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Carlos’ cheeks are flushed from the heat, his thick curls pulled back into a messy bun and is more than a little tempting, though Jill knows she would never live it down if the enemy got the drop on them because she wasn’t able to resist the urge to tangle her fingers in Carlos’ hair. There will be plenty of time for that later.

After they’ve ensured their victory. 

But Carlos’ grin, his amusement in her teasing and his own, certainly isn’t helping matters. Not when it only makes him look all the more boyish and handsome. The sweat dampening the fabric of his gray top or collecting at his temples only adds to the distraction. 

Maybe she should’ve thought twice about selecting him for her team. Talk about friendly fire. 

“Oh, now you’re worried about Rebecca,” Carlos teases. He shakes his head, kneeling down on the floor of the shed to begin working to reload his weapon. “Fine. Leave me. But I hope your guilt keeps you warm at night.”

Jill snorts out a laugh. “What guilt? My conscience will be clear. It’s not my fault that you let your ammo run low.” 

Still, she doesn’t go charging forward, doesn’t immediately rush to leave him behind. And not just because Carlos is the type of person she could definitely want to have watching her back. They’ve been in enough situations to make this clear enough.

Carlos finishes loading, storing the remaining ammo in his hip pouch. “You do know this is a game, right querida?” He stands, weapon held loosely in his hands. “Like…for fun?”

“Fun? What’s fun?” 

In that moment, the door to the shed swings open with enough force to cause both the hinges and the entire structure to rattle on its foundation, and immediately the ease disappears from Jill’s body as she tenses, muzzle jerking upright. Carlos is a mirror for her posture, muscles tight, gun at the ready.

Chris hardly seems bothered, his own gun pointed at the center of her chest. “I could hear you both half a mile away,” he chides. “Is this a game or social hour?”

Jill pulls the trigger, the gun letting out a soft whisper as it fires, the green paintball splattering across Chris’ front. All of them, aside from Rebecca, had opted against any sort of protective gear and the hourly paid employee hadn’t bothered to fight them on it, simply rolling his eyes and waving them into the course. Chris winces at the contact, eyes widening as he looks at Jill in surprise.

“You tell me,” Jill says with a smirk. “Since you seem to be wasting time chatting.” 

“Goddamn it,” Chris mutters, exhaling and letting his gun fall to his side. 

“I’m sure the others won’t give you too much grief,” Jill says with a reassuring pat to Chris’ shoulder as she steps around him, making for the doorway. 

Carlos nods sympathetically, though he looks far too amused for his expression to be anything close to sincere. “We can make up a good story for you.” 

Outside the shed, Jill immediately goes on the defensive once more, gun at the ready, eyes scanning the arena around them. There’s plenty of places to hide, from the manmade structures like the one they’d just been taking shelter in, to the small copses of trees and thick undergrowth. Clarie or Leon or Parker or anyone else still left behind to avenge Chris could be anywhere and Jill has to admit that Chris has a valid point. They hadn’t exactly been trying to hide their conversation. 

Eyes still searching their surroundings, Jill whispers back to Carlos, “Which direction did you say Rebecca was in?” 

Carlos points with the muzzle of his paintball gun, taking point, and Jill falls into step behind him, grateful that there’s a thick cover of pine needles to help soften her tread. They walk several yards without proof of anyone else close by, even the people Carlos had warned were keeping Rebecca pinned down but Jill keeps her head on a swivel as they get closer, fingers tense around the stock of the gun.

Finally Carlos pauses, tipping his chin toward the northeast corner of the arena. “She was right over-”

His words are silenced by the sudden burst of red paint across his front and before Jill can so much as blink, she feels a sting just below her collar bone, can feel the damp paint clinging to the fabric of her shirt. They both turn in the direction of the attack, though it’s far too late to actually do anything about it.

A fact that Claire seems all too aware of as she pops up from the undergrowth that had been concealing her, a grin on her face. “I think that’s it, right?” She glances toward someone Jill can’t see, though it suddenly feels foolish to imagine that means there’s no one there.

Clearly Claire has proven her wrong there.

“We got Rebecca, these two, Mina…” Claire continues, tilting her head as she considers.

Several yards away, Leon emerges from his own hiding spot and Jill exhales through gritted teeth. Clearly they’d never stood a chance. Leon just shakes his head, his weapon carelessly propped against his shoulder. “No, Sheva is still out there, so don’t celebrate just yet, Redfield.” 

All heads turn in the direction of the stick that snaps behind them, but it’s only Chris. Claire and Leon both relax, though not enough to completely let their guard down, no doubt eager to avoid being caught completely off guard like the idiots Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira. 

This fact that has definitely not escaped Chris’ notice, if his pleased grin is any indiction. He gives Jill a rough nudge with his elbow. “Don’t worry. We can make up a good story for you.”

Jill lifts her gun and shoots him once more in the chest for good measure. 

No doubt deciding to leave the three of them to whatever nonsense is currently unfolding, Claire and Leon disappear once more and Jill can’t help but laugh at the completely bemused expression on Chris’ face.

Carlos slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and despite the thick heat and their sweat damp bodies, Jill doesn’t make a move to step away. “Don’t worry, Supercop, you’re a winner in my book.” He pauses, considering. “Not that that really counts or anything but…you know…consolation prize.” 

For a brief moment, Jill considers shooting him too, but in the end she decides not to fight it, instead letting her body briefly lean into his. It’s not so bad, as far as prizes go. 

Though she would’ve much preferred the bragging rights. 

#Valeveira #fictober23 #Jill/Carlos #Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira #I had way too much fun writing this #mention of other characters

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 2: Bark

the sharp explosive cry of certain animals, especially a dog, fox, or seal.

Character(s): Atticus Wolfram and some random poor Hyur in Ul’dah Cw: mild language, implied violence  Word count: 1758 Notes: So this took a bit because I got super invested in it. (This also contains my own hc with Reaper and voidsent stuff!) Remember when I said to not piss off Attitcus’s voidsent? Well here’s that. /runs/

“Got a job for you–should be easy.” 

Atticus took a swig of his ale as a small piece of parchment was passed to him across the table. He read it over a few times before looking back up at the Roegadyn in front of him with a frown. “You mean you have a job for the Raven,” he stated flatly, eyeing his client suspiciously. “You called me here telling me you needed my skill as your Gunbreaker but from the looks of this, you actually need my skill as a Reaper.” 

The Roegadyn shrugged with an amused huff. “Would you’ve come here if I was honest?” And when he was met with silence, he continued on with ease. “Listen, a mere thug couldn’t make this man shake in his boots, I need a real threat to silence him. He’s been slandering my business to anyone he sees–”

“You run a pretty shady business, Loezais.” Atticus cut in, arching an eyebrow. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t been arrested by the Flames by now.”

Loezais glanced behind Atticus’s shoulder, as if expecting someone to burst through his private office before leaning forward with a sigh. “That’s not the point of why I need you. I need you to rough him up a bit, scare him a little, and also he somehow managed to steal some documents that very well could get me arrested. I need them back–his slander isn’t really an issue if he doesn’t have the blackmail.”

“Well,” Atticus chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You should’ve started with that information in the first place. I can’t very well have my best client go under, now can I?” His tone was laced with sarcasm that Loezais didn’t find the least bit amusing. 

“Are you going to take the job or not?” 

“And why can’t you do it?” Atticus tested as he leaned forward again, knowing the question would get him nowhere. “Your appearance alone is enough to send anyone running.” 

Loezais threw him another displeased look. “You’re the Raven, aren’t you? My reputation is only shady, not formidable like yours.” 

A silent standoff passed between them before Atticus finally threw his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright.” he knocked back the rest of his ale and stood up, scraping the chair against the floor. “Your reward amount is big enough to pay off some of my other debts so I’ll take the job.” Atticus snatched the parchment from the table, glancing back at Loezais who looked way too smug. The Elezen threw him a disapproving look before making his leave. “Just, don’t lure me under false pretenses next time.” 

–=--=--=--=- A mere thug couldn’t sway the man and apparently, neither could a Reaper with a terrifying reputation. Mayhap because the Hyur was new to Ul’dah and didn’t really know of the Raven, but of course, Loezais wasn’t the type to do much research when it came to anyone who slandered his business. It was honestly almost laughable how easily this man was able to outsmart Loezais to steal the documents in the first place and if it wasn’t for the fact that Atticus was getting a sizable amount of gil from this, he would’ve sat back and watched Loezais’s bad deals finally catch up to him. But alas, a job was a job, and as much as he hated to admit it, Loezais was one of his best clients; he couldn’t walk away empty-handed.

The job was easier said than done though, because despite the fact the man couldn’t hold a candle to Atticus strength wise, it was his smart-arse mouth that started to make things difficult. He was certainly annoying to say the least and it made it all the more satisfying to send him crashing to his back after they finsiehd their brawl. 

Atticus leaned over the man who was slumped against the wall, a little bit of blood leaking from his mouth as he tried to continue jeering up at the other who bested him. “I’d be careful who you steal from next time,” Atticus threatened lightly. “You try to screw over the ones who screwed you over in Ul’dah, you suffer the consequences.”  

And with that, Atticus plucked the documents from the man’s bag and straightened up. “I certainly enjoyed this meeting,” he said lightly, dusting himself off and slinging his scythe onto his back again. “I went easy on you this time since you didn’t know any better, but next time, it won’t be so pleasant–for you at least.” With one final look at the man, Atticus turned to take his leave. 

The Hyur however, didn’t seem ready to back down despite being knocked down. “So that’s it?” he spat as he struggled to stand back up on his feet. “All of that and you’re just going to walk away?”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed as he slowly turned around, ready to throw a witty remark his way but the man opened his mouth again. 

“Looks like you’re all bark and no bite,” the Hyur said smugly as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “I thought you had a reputation that should leave me ‘shakin'!’” He made a mock gesture as if he was scared but his taunting smile said otherwise.

Cocky bastard.

Atticus froze, feeling his blood boil, and while all he wanted was to continue leaving, knowing this nuisance of a man wasn’t worth anymore of his time, the Elezen knew all too well the overwhelming furry washing over him was moreso from his voidsent, not his own self. 

Curse this new-found connection they had formed. His voidsent was beginning to get bold, trying to take over more often as of late over the smallest of annoyances.

Ignore it. Atticus grit his teeth, his hands lightly curling into fists as he fought against the unwanted rage clawing to get out. He’s just trying to rally you as a defense, he’s not worth it. He had the documents Loezais requested, the job was done–he’d be a fool to try and continue his slander without any proof.

But still, what if he went missing? He’d be doing the whole city-state a favor wiping his smug face from existence, wouldn’t he? It was after all the true request of his client. He was asked to get the documents back yes, but didn’t he also state needing a real threat to silence him and his slander in the first place? He didn’t specify how it was to be done…

No. No. Atticus knew he may be many things but a killer was not one of them. 

“What, you’re just going to stand there? Is your tongue tied?” The man continued to sneer, bringing Atticus back to the fact that he was indeed just standing there having an internal war with himself. “Did I hit a nerve? Are you the type to just make empty threats and run away?”

(“So you’re just going to run away?! Gods be dammed who you leave behind?!”)

“You don’t know me,” Atticus muttered darkly, feeling his own anger begin to mount as the man’s words began to bring up old unwanted memories. Memories of home. Memories of betrayal and guilt. Memories of him. Still, the man continued his jeers and insults, making it increasingly difficult for Atticus to know who was becoming more enraged–him or his voidsent. 

“You’re a right coward,” the man laughed. “like a pup running away with his tail between his legs! I bet that’s exactly what you did before now and why you’re running around doing someone else’s dirty work! You can’t face your own problems!” 

(You’re a coward, Ven! You turn your back on the Empire, on your people! All because you cannot face your own problems!”)

Shutupshutupshutup! Atticus pressed his hands over his ears before finally, the thread holding back his voidsent snapped.

He wasn’t exactly sure if the giddy feeling in his chest belonged to him or his voidsent but either way, he felt his lips curl into a gleeful smile as he watched the man’s expression finally twist into one of pure terror, his mouth immediately snapping closed. That’s much better. 

He loomed toward the man who let out a startled yelp and took a hesitant step back. But it was much too late, and Atticus was much too fast. 

Weapon drawn, eyes gleaming blood red, he lunged. 

–-=--=--=--

“Here’s your gil,” A velvet pouch was passed to Atticus across the table but he made no move to grab it, lost deep in thought. Loezais continued to speak to him but the words didn’t register. It wasn’t until the man was snapping his fingers in front of his face that Atticus came back to reality, blinking in confusion. 

“Pardon?” he asked slowly.

“You sure are out of it today,” his client chuckled, crossing his arms as he sat back in his chair. “I asked how ya did it? What exactly did you do to get him to stop? I haven’t heard a single word outta him whenever I’m at the Quicksand…haven’t seen him around much of late either now that I think about it.” he added in quiet bemusement. 

Atticus’s expression remained stoic though his heart sank to his stomach. Truth be told, he blacked out the moment his voidsent snapped (or was it him?) When he came to his senses again, the sight before him was one of absolute carnage, and he was sure to have nightmares about it for moons on end. Thankfully no one else was around which made the clean up swift and he made sure to give the man a proper send off–it was the only way to quell the guilt mounting inside of him over the whole ordeal.

It wasn’t my intention to do that

Atticus let out a slow breath as he grabbed the pouch of gil and pocketed it. There was no way in any layer of hell he would ever tell a soul what had happened that day.  “Haven’t I told you before?” Atticus’s eyes darkened  but he kept his tone light. “It’s better if you don’t ask. The job is done and that’s all that matters, isn’t?” He turned on his heel and made for the door, not bothering to continue the conversation any further. “You know where to find me for next time.” He lazily waved his hand goodbye in the air and the door closed with a snap.

Atticus was a man known for many things and while a killer wasn’t one of them, his voidsent would beg to differ. 

#ffxivwrite2023 #prompt 2 bark #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing #atticus wolfram #ffxiv reaper #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv elezen #nico writes #ffxiv #ffxiv voidsent #ffxiv voidsent hc #ffxiv reaper hc #garlean oc #I had way too much fun writing this #it kind of got away from me #instantly knew this was a perfect Atticus prompt #This is also my own take on the reaper hc #and I cannot wait to dive more into his lore and backstory!

[dreaming-for-an-escape]

So this is a vampire Eddie Munson blurb. It’s a crossover between my fanfics Dimensions Of The Heart and Beauty Has Her Way. It’s my Stranger Things/IT crossover and The Lost Boys story. That’ll explain the mention of my OC Cheryl because she’s the main OC in Beauty Has her Way. So it’s a crossover within a crossover 😂 I do plan on introducing Eddie in Beauty Has Her Way but that’ll happen later, after I cover The Lost Boys story-line.

Anyways this blurb features my OC Alexandra Uris who is my other OC Gwen Tozier’s daughter. It takes place years later after Stranger Things Season 4 when everyone thought Eddie died. In this crossover story he turned into a vampire. He’s been living in Santa Carla with our favorite vampires and is a part of their group.

In the blurb Alexandra is eighteen and is at Santa Carla for summer vacation. Eddie runs into her and finds out who she’s related to.

Short but sweet. Enjoy! It was fun to write! If you guys like it maybe I’ll write another blurb.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Alexandra Uris (Gwen and Stan’s daughter). This was supposed to read as a start of friendship between them but uh...I don’t know anymore. I’m a sucker for a vampire x human relationship. And also it’s Eddie! But it does complicate things since in post IT: Chapter Two, Alexandra is paired with Oliver (Ben and Beverly's son). But who’s to say Alexandra won’t have another potential love interest in her life?I mean Gwen did xD Sorry not sorry. 

It took Eddie longer than he liked to admit to locate where that alluring scent was coming from. 

Paul and Marko would have definitely given him major shit about it. Thankfully Paul was with David and Dwayne, and Marko was off somewhere with Cheryl doing things Eddie would rather not know, let alone, think about. 

This new scent for some reason was familiar to Eddie but he couldn’t figure out why that was. Why did the scent (of citrus?) make him walk around the boardwalk like a mad man on a mission. The people around him were giving him odd looks as he lifted his nose into the air, deeply inhaling. Eddie didn’t give a fuck with how he was being looked at though. All he cared about was that tantalizing scent. 

There was a slight floral taste in his mouth after each inhale he took. Despite not being a huge fan of floral scent, this one in particular made him determined to find the source of where it came from. It was borderline intoxicating and Eddie wondered if this was what Marko meant when he told him about meeting Cheryl for the first time when she had been human years ago. 

Cheryl’s scent had caught Marko’s attention, and the reason why was because she ended up being Marko’s true mate. Was this now happening to Eddie? Was he smelling his true mate’s scent or was this just a person with mouthwatering blood, waiting to be feed on by him?

Eddie would only know once he’d locate the scent, and locate the scent he very well did. Of all places on the boardwalk the person’s zesty scent was coming from the vinyl shop. Vinyls to this day happened to still be popular with people, and he was glad about that. Even with all the new ways to listen to music, Eddie preferred listening to music as he did when he had been a human in the eighties. 

Call him old fashioned but it was his preference. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way when it came to his vampire family. 

The vinyl shop was familiar territory for Eddie and he felt ridiculous for not checking the place sooner. He walked in as if he owned the place, the employees already recognizing and leaving him be. After living so long in Santa Carla it sure felt like he was the owner. 

Eddie nearly closed his eyes from bliss. The delightful tangy scent was so strong in the shop that there was no way of escaping it. Not that he wanted to do that, quite the opposite actually. 

His eyes soon found the owner of the scent he’d been drawn to. 

A dainty looking blonde girl around eighteen or so stood in between the aisle, going through the vinyls in front of her. She was wearing a black headband, pushing her hair away from her face revealing her beautiful dark brown eyes. Eddie noticed that there wasn’t a single blemish on her fair skin. 

The girl’s hair only reached her shoulders, and yet there was still some bounce. Her outfit did indeed let him know that she wasn’t from Santa Carla. Eddie already figured this to be the case from her scent. It was a huge give away because had she lived in Santa Carla Eddie, him or one of his brothers, would have scoped her out already. 

Her scent was too captivating to ignore. Now that Eddie was looking at her he realized that not only did she smell like sunshine in a bottle, she also looked the part. 

As Eddie approached closer he saw just how much taller he was than her. Eddie stood at five feet ten inches. She must have been five feet two inches, at least. To his amusement Blondie here was shorter than Cheryl. He along with the rest of the guys liked teasing her about it. 

Eddie licked his lips before speaking, and when the girl set her eyes on him he felt a slight burn in his throat from how close he was to her now. 

“You looking for anything in particular?”

Blondie narrowed those beautiful dark brown eyes of hers. Unlike most of the girls he chatted up she wasn’t falling so quickly. There was no fluttering of the eyelashes, or even a blush coating her cheeks. She wasn’t even smiling at him. No instead she appeared guarded, and Eddie was finding that to be intriguing. 

“Do you work here?” Blondie asked evenly, though Eddie could detect a bit of sharpness in her tone. 

“Nah, just a regular customer.” Eddie told her with a grin. “Though I do like to help people with finding good tunes. You know? Lead them in the right direction. Some people just don’t know good music.”

Blondie stared at him, and he could tell she still didn’t trust him. Her dark brown eyes however did lessen a bit from harshness. “I think I can manage on my own.” She went on to say and then continued going through the vinyls in front of her. 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes wondered to her neck, taking another inhale. He tried being discreet about it. He wondered what it would take in order to convince her to follow him to a more secluded area in order to get a taste from her.  

The girl’s answer was short. “Yup.” 

“Why’s that?” Eddie asked hoping to get more out of her. 

She let out a sigh, directing her eyes onto him again. “My mother’s a singer. I know my music.”

Eddie wasn’t expecting that but he went along with it. “Oh? Who’s your mom?”

Blondie kept her gaze steady on him as she answered. “Gwen Tozier.” 

Eddie’s mouth almost dropped open like in a cartoon. 

The girl saw his reaction and must have thought he was a fan. Her lips quirked, not quite a smile. “You’ve heard of her?”

“I sure have.” Eddie answered with a far away voice. 

He knew exactly who Gwen Tozier was. He hadn’t seen Gwen in years and he hadn’t been in contact with her or anyone from his past life. Not even his Uncle Wayne. And why would he? Eddie was supposed to be dead. 

Any information he did know about his past loved ones was minimal. He did know about Gwen’s singing career but nothing about her personal life. He didn’t like digging because it just brought sadness, and why be bummed when he was going to live on forever?

Eddie was considered to be dead by everyone in Hawkins after the battle with Vecna. As much as he wanted to tell everyone in Hawkins he hadn’t kicked the bucket, he knew he couldn’t. Because the truth was he wasn’t alive, not like them. He wasn’t human anymore. He was a vampire now. And he’s been living as a vampire for quite some time now. 

It hurt but leaving Hawkins had been the best and smart move on Eddie’s part. He thought he left everything from his old life behind but now here he was talking to Gwen’s daughter. 

Was Gwen also here in Santa Carla? What about Gwen’s husband? If there was one, Eddie just assumed she was married. And if so to who?

Who did Gwen decide to settle down and have a kid with? Was it Harrington? It had been years since Eddie set foot in Hawkins but he remembered how head over heels Steve had been for Gwen, and he remembered how Gwen felt for Steve. The two were in a bit of a rough patch during their battle with Vecna but not enough to officially end things between them in Eddie’s opinion. 

So did they reconcile and marry? Eddie had so many questions. 

The girl in front of him would give answers. Eddie was sure of that. And even though it probably was a bad idea to get involved with her he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. 

“My name’s Eddie.” He introduced himself, sticking out his hand. When all she did was blink at him he laughed. “Come on, it’s just a hand. It’s not like it’s gonna bite you or anything.” He probably shouldn’t have made that joke considering he’d been planning on sinking his teeth into that soft neck of hers earlier.  

Blondie stayed quiet for a long time. Eddie really thought she was just going to continue standing there, staring at him with those dark brown eyes of hers. Eyes, that he now realized, were like Gwen’s. But then Blondie let out a sigh, not exactly an annoyed sounding one. She briefly shook his hand. “Alexandra.” 

Eddie repeated the name in his hand. Alexandra seemed like a fitting name for the daughter of Gwen Tozier. The girl he once considered like a sister. He certainly did love her like one. 

“So Girlschool?” Eddie brought up after their handshake ended. He gestured to the vinyl Alexandra was now holding. “That’s who you were looking for?”

Alexandra nodded her head.  Now that they introduced themselves she found it a bit easier to talk to him. Although her guard still remained up. It didn’t matter how good looking he was, she wasn’t about to end up on the news. 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to buy another one of their vinyls. Girlschool is such an underrated band.”

Eddie smiled. Gwen used to say the same thing. In his mind he could picture them smoking together after classes, and talking about music. 

Girlschool being one of the many bands mentioned by her. Eddie recalled her owning a Girlschool t-shirt. It had been loose on Gwen because unlike most of the girls at Hawkins High she liked dressing more for comfort. In Eddie’s opinion Gwen could have dressed in a potato sack back then and she’d still be considered cool by him. 

Eddie looked over Alexandra, eyes gleaming. The same thing could be said about her if she ever decided to wear a potato sack too. 

“Are you a fan of their music?” Alexandra asked him.

Eddie’s smile widened. “Actually yeah, a good friend of mine got me into them.”

Alexandra hummed. “Your friend must have good taste in music then.”

This time Eddie answered in a softer tone. “She does.” 

Alexandra picked up on the softness as she stared at him. Eddie was taken back in time yet again.  

Those dark brown eyes, they were so Gwen. Especially under the shop’s light. Eddie knew right then and there that no harm would come to Alexandra. Not by him, and certainly not by his brothers. He’ll have to make that perfectly clear to them.

Eddie already knew that Cheryl would at least help him if any of the guys would cause trouble. He could count on Cheryl with about anything really. She was kind like that. Honestly it was hard for Eddie to think of her as a vampire because of how much love she held in her undead heart. 

Actually, and this wouldn’t be the first time he thought it, even telling Cheryl, but his vampire sister did have a lot of qualities that made Eddie think of Gwen...and now here he was conversing with Gwen’s daughter. 

Eddie’s tongue traced the inside of his teeth, glad his fangs were currently hidden. Alexandra’s scent hadn’t lost its allure whatsoever. 

Yeah, on the downside Eddie lost a meal but it wasn’t like he could drink her blood.  Eddie could already picture an older looking Gwen scolding him. That would be a huge no and Eddie would feel guilty, something he tended not to feel a lot these days. Thanks vampirism. But even though he just met Alexandra, Eddie already knew he wouldn’t harm a single strand of her beautiful blonde head. 

Now on the upside finding someone else to feed from would be easy. This was Santa Carla after all. But he’d look for a meal later. Right now Eddie wanted to focus on Alexandra. 

Talking to her made Eddie think back to the times he spent with Gwen all those years ago. 

It made him feel human for a moment there. And it was a feeling he missed more than he thought. 

Okay Blondie...

Eddie let out a low laugh when Alexandra tilted her head at him, finding her puzzled expression to be cute. 

What else are you going to make me feel?

#beauty has her way #dimensions of the heart #crossover #the lost boys #blurb #eddie munson #alexandra uris #vampire eddie munson #gwen tozier daughter #oc #i had way too much fun writing this #i am a sucker for vampire eddie and the lost boys #cheryl rivers #marko #paul #david #dwayne #stranger things

[wall-legion]

Uncomfortably personal ask for Garrus

"Have you ever been pranked by any of your fellow charr? Words shaved in fur, or dyed in it?"

He chuffs with a grin. "I'm probably breaking some long-standing First Warband tradition, but considering I'm in charge of the warband now... eh, I'll tell. So when you're fresh outta fahrar and get accepted into the warband and legion, the first thing after the the selection ceremony is this big feast. While you're there, they just keep giving you booze, right? Like they start slow, easy, couple mugs of beer, and then it picks up with harder stuff. They basically are aiming to get you wasted. "Then, when you are full and drunk and sleepy, they send you and a couple of older folk upstairs. They're gonna help you get undressed for bed! Except they get you all the way undressed, and they take your armor and clothes with them when they leave. And sometimes, if you're me-" He pauses to start laughing. "If you're me, and you have a white underside and you pass out the instant you hit the cot, they do you the privilege of dying you chin to groin hot pink." He doubles over laughing at that. "I woke up looking like some kind of rosy disaster, hungover and confused to the Mists and back. Stumbled my sorry ass down to the mess in a walk of shame with my uh... dignity protected by only these two paws. It took me five hours to round up all my clothes and gear, and three weeks to wash that stuff out of my fur."

#Garrus Firstblood #thanks for the ask! #I had way too much fun writing this

[prouddelusionist]

when i agreed to sign that very important contract -that every byler must sign for like obvious reasons this is not a joke hah why would it be- that specifically stated...

'when becoming a profound delusional, u will be committed as are those who are ur fellow fruity byler shippers, u cannot turn back. u r tied together will the little hope that remains and for that, u will help grow this community'

i was ecstatic.

after i gave the byler master doc a kiss, i walked out of the holy church with a new perspective, aware that the decision i made only a few minutes ago will surely and fundamentally change the whole trajectory of my life. i believed that anything was possible, but i now realise, i must've been in such a silly and goofy mood to agree with such a thing because now, im wearing a stupid clown costume that won't come off /j

#byler #im very much joking #i had way too much fun writing this #call me a little too obsessed i dare u #byler master doc supremacy #my phone is on 69% #no i seriously need to stop being so funny it's actually quite criminal #apologies

[spacedykez]

alright it’s time. i just saw someone refer to o!ranboo as oranboo. so now cranboo has a fruity friend. (yes. yes i am fully aware of how i phrased this).

Every time i see someone refer to c!ranboo as cranboo, i can think of one thing only. Ranboo x cranberries. This results in a mental image of a ranboo in a cranberry outfit. now o!ranboo as oranboo is cranboo’s friend. but oranboo is orange.

Their names are pronounced crahn-boo and orin-boo, not see-ran-boo and oh-ran-boo. they live next to each other and they are dressed in the most ridiculous outfits.

now for reference, in case you don’t know, here’s how cranberries are harvested:

so. cranboo lives in his cranberry bog next to oranboo’s orange tree field. and now, it is time to write crackfic of this, making it as awful as I possibly can.

Yep, cranboo & oranboo fic below the cut.

Cranboo’s head poked above the surface of the water slightly, pushing aside floating berries. The round crimson fruits parted for him, drifting away like bubbles in the breeze. His tail flicked above the water, stained scarlet from the many cranberries he had impaled with it. He stabbed another one, tail plopping into the water as a duck diving, and with a swift movement launched a berry at one of the small trees on the land.

Where vibrant red cranberry bog met bright green grass, the land sloped upwards slightly, the water giving way to rolling hills covered in lush orchards of small orange trees. Cranboo was taller than the trees, but that didn’t matter too much, as he preferred to spend his days lazing around, drifting along atop the water with cranberries bumping at his feet. 

The cranberry he’d thrown landed on the grass and splattered in a mess of red, looking almost like a crime scene. From the bushy trees emerged another tall figure. This new arrival sported a very wide-brimmed sunhat shading him from the bright orb above, which was wrapped with a ribbon looped through orange slices for a decorative touch. His tail, similarly to Cranboo’s, was stained a vibrant color, except his was orange. Far less murder-y than Cranboo’s crimson shade.

“Greeting, Oranboo,” Cranboo tipped his own sunhat, topped with a wreath of cranberries, at the new arrival. Oranboo nodded back.

“Doing anything besides lazing around there, Cranboo?” Oranboo asked. Cranboo shrugged, twirling around and splashing water and berries all over himself. “Tsk, as I thought. Not hard at work harvesting your fruit, like me.”

Cranboo rolled his eyes. “That’s because cranberries don’t need to be harvested by hand, like your lame oranges.”

“My oranges are superior, thank you very much!” Oranboo exclaimed in outrage, plucking one from a nearby tree and launching it at Cranboo. Cranboo caught it lazily and held it up to his face, surveying it. “Observe. Look at the perfect, strong skin it’s got.”

Cranboo shrugged, picking up another cranberry and squeezing it in between his fingers, crushing the orange in his other hand. It took several long seconds to break the cranberry, but orange pulp squirted out quickly when the orange’s peel broke. Cranboo said nothing, letting the fruits speak for themselves.

Oranboo let out a hrmph of indignation. “At least my fruits are more popular than yours. Nobody likes cranberries, they’re too bitter.” Cranboo slithered across the water towards Oranboo, and Oranboo turned to look at him. “What are you doing, little water demon-”

“I’m just relaxing, here, man!” Cranboo laughed. “I mean, I think I get quite the nice life here, and these are the best few weeks of the year.”

Oranboo scowled. “Why would you enjoy your field being flooded for a month? Water, all over your plants?” He hissed, watching Cranboo stand and walk out of the water. “Bog creature.” Cranboo shrugged, shaking water and mushed up berries off of him. Oranboo scowled. “You’re covered in the stuff!”

Cranboo was indeed covered in cranberries, the original color of his clothes unrecognizable. His white half was dyed so red it was now completely pink. His red and green eyes did match the green leaves and red fruits quite well. Oranboo, on the other hand, was still very much fully an enderman. His skin was a pure midnight black and he was not covered in oranges, thank you very much. He did wear orange contacts, but no one mentioned that.

Cranboo pranced up to Oranboo and paced around him, tossing cranberries into his mouth. “Where did you even get those?” Oranboo demanded.

“Inventory,” Cranboo offered simply, lying down on the grass and stretching out comfortably. “Ah, what a beautiful sunny day.”

Oranboo scowled and turned to his bushes. “You know I can’t go out in the sun.” Cranboo nodded, but didn’t move. “At least you’ve only got a few days before the flood recedes and you’re left with the same fields as me.”

“Nah, my fields are always better,” Cranboo protested. 

“You don’t get your fields all year,” Oranboo instantly snapped back.

“No, but I get my own swimming pool,” Cranboo grinned. “You can’t even touch water.”

“Don’t mock me,” Oranboo threatened, storming back over to Cranboo. Cranboo slunk back down into the water and splashed at Oranboo, who backed up unhappily. “Little brat.”

“Happy little brat,” Cranboo corrected. Oranboo silently fumed off into his bushes, unable to combat that.

Cranboo lazed back, drifting away again among his sea of cranberries.

#ranboo #origins ranboo #dsmp ranboo #writing #i had way too much fun writing this #i love cranboo so much #Oranboo is so fun to write #but why is this what i managed to write today #mmmm fruits #the otter scribbles

[thescrapwitch]

Chapters: 1/18 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë, Aegnor | Ambaráto/Andreth | Saelind, Celeborn/Galadriel | Artanis, Beren Erchamion/Lúthien Tinúviel, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maglor | Makalaurë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Finarfin | Arafinwë & Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë Characters: Fëanor | Curufinwë, Maedhros | Maitimo, Maglor | Makalaurë, Galadriel | Artanis, Aegnor | Ambaráto, Ereinion Gil-galad, Turgon of Gondolin, Lúthien Tinúviel, Fingon | Findekáno Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Madness, Implied/Referenced Torture Summary:

Out of love for King Finwë, the Teleri agree to aid the Noldor with the use of their ships. A small force - including two children from each branch of the royal house - are sent first to prepare a stronghold in Beleriand. Fëanáro plans to quickly follow with the rest of his forces, crush Morgoth, reclaim his Silmarils and rule Middle Earth as High King.

He did not plan for everything to go so horribly wrong.

#tolkien possessed me and now i have a silmarillion fic to inflict upon the world #i had way too much fun writing this #my fic #silmarillion #feanor #maedhros #maglor

[schattenwerfenkeineschatten]

unexpected guest (Bahorel, sorry to them in advance lol)

@scrivellc sent " unexpected guest " for my muse to find their muse asleep in mine's bed, injured and exhausted, after having broken into my muse's home.

A soft metallic jingle as key met lock unceremoniously and without much tenderness. After a few clumsy pokes in the dark, the door showed itself forbearing and gave way.

Home was a place not unfamiliar to Bahorel. He knew the address, the layout, where everything was... Hell, he was friendly with the landlady and most of the neighbours. But to say he lived there might have been an overstatement.

He had people over sometimes. It was not unheard of. He enjoyed cooking. When the mood took him, he even slept there. But he never managed to hold still for long. More than anything, it seemed, he was perpetually passing through.

Yawning, he shrugged off his coat and kicked off his boots before shuffling towards the kitchen to treat himself to a late-night snack.

With his hunger assuaged, there was only one thing on his mind. Another yawn, and he began to strip, entrusting his clothes to the floor one by one, before finally dropping into bed.

His eyes had barely fallen shut when they grew wide with the troubling realisation that his bed was not empty.

Now, ordinarily, Bahorel was happy to share. Except... he was quite certain he had come home alone.

After careful consideration, Bahorel did what any reasonable person would have done in his situation and started up with a high-pitched, half-choked, "What the fuck..?!"

#scrivellc #thaaanks #i had way too much fun writing this #🧵 welcome home #🎭 bahorel (moving shadows)

[willowser]

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