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whereserpentswalk · 9 months

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Your new roommate is an android. You could tell when you saw them, their skin is pretty obviously artificial material, their eyes glow a little, and they have that voice and those mannerisms that a lot of them have. They're warm to the touch, warmer than any human, most androids are warmer than humans despite the serotypes. This isn't surprising, you've met a lot of androids before, and you know a lot go to this school.

What is surprising is that they don't admit it. They call themself a human, act dismissive towards the idea of androids as part of human society, try to avoid anything that's part of android culture. You adapt pretty quickly to referring to them as a human, but you'll always know they aren't. You assume it's because of bigotry, you know androids still face a lot of social issues, but bigots can still tell they're an android as much as you can. And it's not like things are like they were back in the 21st century, especially in a college in a large city, bigots can't just openly say they hate nonhumans, they're subtle in ways that make pretending to be a human hurt even more. But you are human, so you think it's best not to say anything.

You see how much your roommate sacrifices just to look human. They never show any skin other than their face and hands, which makes overheating even worse. They waste hours trying to fake sleep, when everyone knows they can't sleep, they always make excuses as to why they can't eat any given meal. And you can't even mention nonhumans around them without them being dismissive of anyone openly nonhuman. They don't have solidarity with any other androids, can't participate in any of the things on campus specifically designed for people like them. You want them to be happy, and you know they'd just be happier if they admitted being what everyone knew they were.

There's a lot of nonhumans in your friend group, a lot of clones and cyborgs, and one or two androids. Most of the time you don't think about how they aren't human. But not your roommate, you always think about how they're an android because you have to in order to pretend you think they're human.

And they become so proud of their humanity. Humanity they don't even have. Like they're loving the fact that they can say that they're human, that they can say they're part of the most privileged group in the solar system. It's almost like they're larping as a character, they've mentioned family on Mars at this point, family that you know they physically can't have. It's best to just pretend.

Your roommate knows a lot about certain places, about how certain practices work, places and practices that are horrifying to think even still exist. Places where android suffer in ways that make you feel guilty just to be a human. Places only someone whose been there could know about. It's a miracle this person is in college at all. They don't want to be an android, don't want to be able to be hurt the way only their kind is hurt.

Eventually they cut their face. Cut it deeply enough so that you can see they don't bleed, so that you can see the metal under their plastic skin. They have to walk around like that for a while, they can barely go to class, barely talk to anyone, knowing they can't pass for human. By the time they get the cut fixed everyone knows, well everyone always knew, some people are confused because they didn't even know your roommate wanted to be a human.

When you talk to them again you realize they expected you to want nothing to do with them. They're still uncomfortable around other nonhumans, they don't want to be one of them, but they can still talk to you. They're not even wearing clothing, they don't need it, their only skin is on their head and hands, everything else is raw steel, but they still look themself despite everything. They expected you to see them differently, if anything you see them as an android less now.

When you hug them, it's warmer than any human hug could be.

#android #robotics #robot #robots #scifi #writing #writeblr #worldbuilding #writers on tumblr #my writing #196 #urban fantasy #near future #cyberpunk #fiction #origional work #origional content #original fiction #writers

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wispurrvt · 12 days

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💜

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ginkgodoodles · 9 months

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A little personification of spring. She will be back. :) 🌸

#artists on tumblr #digital art #spring #origional character #origional content #origional art #persephone #illustrator #illustration #procreate #character concept #springtime #flowers #pink #i love pink #i love spring

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shrimpscrawling · 1 year

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One of my favourite enrichment activities is writing my unsettling little horror novels before bed and then laying awake all night wondering why I’m vibrating with anxiety

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nikkis-new-art-blog · 15 days

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Tomato painting 🍅

#art #painting #tomato #origional content #origional art #my art

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slipthroughmyfingers · 1 year

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Moon🌙Bath

#moon bath #shimmer #bath bomb #moon #gold #golden #bath bombs #lush #sparkle #shimmery #mine #photography #canon photography #origional content

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wanderingevelyn · 1 month

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These colors speak to me They say come forward They say there’s much to see They say fly you little bird There’s so much to be

#paint #painting #canvas painting #colors #color therapy #poem #creative #feelings #expression #acrylic painting #origional content #brush strokes

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the-lennonade-stand · 2 months

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The World Sculptor

There is an office so well shrouded that only a carefully curated few know of its existence. There is nothing ordinary about this office. It is old, the scent of must emanating from every surface. Against one wall rests a rickety old chair and an accompanying desk, against another, rows of filing cabinets labeled with careful, elegant script. The office has no windows and no doors, but its sole occupant enters regardless.

The artist is ageless, eyes twinkling with boundless creativity and delight. The corner of the artist’s mouth is always turned up in a small smile, the origin of their amusement a carefully guarded secret. Their calloused hands constantly move, flying from adjusting their silvery hair to fiddling with a button on their shirt.

They sit at the desk, reaching deep into one of its many drawers and pulling out a handful of burning magma. They knead it between their fingers, forming it into a spherical shape. The shape is too big at first, so they set it to the side, the wood of their desk charing as molten rock sears it. They draw another fistful of magma from the desk, but are not pleased with that one either. They weigh the two forms, one in each hand with a small frown. Frustrated, they smash them together, and end up with two shapes- a larger sphere, and a smaller one orbiting the first and rapidly beginning to cool.

The magma of the main body begins to cool, steam rising off of it and collecting around the sphere. When the cloud gets heavy enough, it changes states once more, not into a gas this time, but a liquid. Water drains from the atmosphere of the shape to its surface, collecting into a giant pool.

The artist considers their project for a moment, then takes a few pinches of magma. They place them strategically around the rock base of their project, forming them into volcanoes. After thousands of years, the volcanoes have all erupted, forming land masses around the shape.

The geology of the shape is taking shape nicely, but the artist still feels something is missing. They spin the orb around and around, studying it from every angle. It looks similar to the countless projects they’ve completed before this- a volcanic rock that will lose its ocean in a few millennia, but it doesn’t feel quite right. And so, the artist decides to try something new.

They sketch a microscopic speck, tiny and insignificant, and bring it into being. It doesn’t do much- it consumes volcanic minerals at the ocean floor for nutrition, and can make identical copies of itself to survive. It lives in the blink of an eye, and when its time comes, it ceases to be. The artist smiles as they release a handful of these into the inhospitable oceans and sit back. They’ve tried experiments like this before. None of them worked.

The specks are still around after a few thousand years. Actually, they’ve changed, and they keep changing as time progresses. They adapt and evolve to any danger in their environment. Some specks have grouped up into strange marine lifeforms that swim around and consume each other for energy. The artist holds their breath. None of their other experiments have lasted this long or come this far.

Life flourishes before the artist as it creates plants, animals, and other forms of beings. A few times, the artist worries as most of it dies before them. But life always continues, evolving, adapting, overcoming. It surges out of the ocean and covers the continents, turning them lush and green, overrun with wonderful creatures. Massive reptiles rule the land, sea, and sky for a while, before perishing when some loose magma brushes against the project. New warm blooded creatures appear next, making themselves known as the world grows cold. In particular, a species of bipedal primates catches the artist’s eye.

This creature does not seem special at first. They live in small groups, hunting their prey to survive. But as time goes by, they adapt even faster than the other animals. Not physically, perhaps, but mentally. They forge tools from the earth the artist provided, and learn how to make the land grow food for them.

They call themselves “humans,” and soon, they’ve spread all over the rock. They shape the artist’s land to build structures, calling groups of them cities, and groups of cities nations. They live and die in the blink of an eye, dreaming of gods that shaped their world, these deities eerily similar to the artist themself.

Oh, do they create. War chariots rampage across Eurasia, and archers set their arrows alight before firing to maximize the death they can administer. They harness the artist’s power into explosives, meant for mining, repurposed for war.

The artist is sickened by war. Their creations slaughter themselves mercilessly for what they believe to be a noble cause. The artist sees nothing noble about it. Even in times of relative peace, the humans are still fighting. Murderers and thieves con and kill every day that passes. The artist is almost ready to scrap their project and start anew, but something catches their eye.

Amidst all of the chaos in their project, they see something else. Humans help each other, generously donating to each other in times of need, or sharing a particularly bountiful harvest. The closer the artist looks, the more of these instances they find. They feel immense pride in their creations. And then, on a continent the humans have named “North America,” they see a bright flash.

The humans have harnessed the power of their very building blocks to build bombs capable of wiping themselves out in the midst of a global war. In a blink of an eye, more nations have built and tested these weapons, and every one of them tensely hovers over the trigger.

It is almost time for the artist to submit their project, but they are entranced in this deadly stalemate their work has found itself in. They hold their breath as years slowly tick by and no action is taken. But then, they remember the potential for humans to build instead of destroy. All around them, they see great works- elegant buildings, impressive charities, and kindness. They cradle their planet in their hands and smile. They have faith in their creations to maintain their kindness. They take their planet and place it in a solar system, third from the Sun. And they choose a name for their planet.

Earth.

#writing #creative writing #origional content #paradox #prose

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illustrawrrr · 3 months

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Here are some Re-draws/ Redesigns of some OLD ocs! I came up with them when I was like... 12, which is almost 11 years ago now ^^; but these drawings are from 2019, the new ones I drew 2023 and Today! Their names are Varrin (Scar) the werewolf and Luminecence (Lumi) the run-away princess. Their story is a medieval love triangle between the princess, the werewolf, and a weredragon.

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exploring-colours · 5 months

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Exploring Colours

•1•

In the quiet calmness of the night the clattering crackle of a shaken paint can disturbs a lonely back alley. The sharp hiss of aerosol is being released into the cool night air as a black brick wall is adorned with colour. A lone figure stands in the alley before the wall, they wear a black hoodie and ripped black jeans stained with paint. The wall is slowly decorated with line after line of paint until an image begins to appear, a swooping bird flying over rippling waters towards the unknown.

Loud music blasts through Rayne's headphones as they move to push their black hair out of their face. Even as they listen to their loud rock music they are flooded with a feeling of tranquility as they paint. They relish the feeling of sinking into their hidden world of creativity, like an escape from reality. Their black fabric mask pulled over their mouth and nose to hide their identity, also to shield them from the paint fumes which causes their round glasses to cloud slightly with each breath. Once the mural is complete, they clean up the area and vacate the alley, as they begin the walk back home.

Their name is Rayne, they are a 17-year-old genderfluid individual. They have short, fluffy, messy, seemingly untameable black hair. Rayne lives with their best friend Harper and her family. The two grew up together and are an inseparable pair, they have known each other for as long as they can remember. Harper has a 12-year-old brother Toby, and her parents Alina and Jason. They took Rayne in after their parents kicked them out for being queer.

As Rayne neared their home, they pulled their hood and headphones down and shoved their mask into their pocket, when they reached the apartment they climbed up the fire escape to the door. Arriving in the small apartment they were greeted by Harper who had a mischievous look in her brown eyes. "Had fun painting?" she asks, already knowing the answer by the peaceful look adorning Rayne's face. "Definitely" Rayne replies with a smile. They set their bag down then move to join Harper on the couch.

"Gosh you smell like paint!" Harper explains waving her hand dramatically as she moves to make space on the couch. Its about 11:30pm and the two stay up talking until midnight before finally turning in for the night. As Rayne lays in their bed waiting for sleep to take them, they listened quietly to the recorded sound of ocean waves crashing upon rocks. They had no idea how long they laid there before sleep finally took them.

•••

Rayne is woken harshly in the morning by their alarm clock sounding of bloody murder. They roll over in bed, groaning as they slam the silence button on the old clock. Dragging themself out of bed with another groan they fumble around for their rounded glasses; unceremoniously shoving them on and pushing their hair out of their face. Making their way to their closet they grab a random band t-shirt and some black ripped jeans. They throw on their hoodie and tuck their necklace into their shirt, the metal pendant cold against their skin. Making their way out and to the kitchen they run into Harper who was engrossed in her phone with a goofy grin on her face. "Girl?" Rayne asks with a knowing tone in their voice. "Ahh, what?" harper jumps then replies. "You definitely didn’t scare me there." "Definitely" Rayne says with a small laugh.

Acquiring a bowl and spoon, Rayne sets to making a bowl of cereal, grabbing the cereal box from beside Harper on the table they dumped some and then added milk. Moving beside Harper they jump to sit on the table next to their friend. "Math is first today" Harper states, mouth lightly stuffed with cheerios. Just then Toby walks into the kitchen, making his way towards the fridge he utters a simple morning before opening the freezer and digging around. "Why are you two on the table?" he asks as he pulls out a pack of toaster waffles. "Why not" Rayne responds in a deadpan voice. Toby is like a younger brother to Rayne, and they love him like one.

"Aren't we only allowed waffles on weekends?" Harper teases her brother. "Aren't we not allowed to sit on the table?" he quips back matching his sisters energy. Toby then pulled out a chair and made a show of sitting at the table like a normal person. He then shoved his two plain toaster waffles into his mouth at lightning speed. Rayne stood to grab their meds from the medical cabinet, taking their Concerta and Prozac for ADHD and anxiety. They then moved to rejoin Harper on the table.

Once finished with breakfast Rayne and Harper went about getting ready for school, once Rayne had their bag and headphones they slipped on their black platformed boots and grabbed the car keys from the hook waiting for Harper. Rayne's bag was a black messenger bag, the front covered in carefully curated pins and adorned with many different keychains on the zippers, Rayne loved their bag it felt personal, unique and perfect for them. Once Harper was ready the pair made their way to the car, making sure to take the stairs because Rayne loves to torture Harper.

When the pair got to the car, Harper immediately climbed into the passenger's seat. Harper hates driving, which is perfect because Rayne loves to drive. Just be around cars in general. Some part of driving just brought this total feeling of calmness and control to them. Turning on the car and putting on their seatbelt, Rayne pulled out of the parkade. They drove to the high school, Girl in Red blasting through the speakers of their gray 2011 Honda civic affectionately called Hank. When they pulled up to the school Rayne parked in their usual spot under a tree and the pair made their way up the steps and into the school.

•••

Rayne is sitting in their uncomfortable desk staring at the clock on the wall. The words of their teacher were droning on in the background. Minutes felt like hours, as Rayne watched the clocks hands tick by. Being trapped in your own head is the worst form of imprisonment, the spiraling thoughts in Raynes mind never seemed to stop. They constantly felt out of place in their own head and their own body. When the clock finally reached 10:15 am the bell signaling the end of first period finally rang throughout the school building. Rayne glanced over to Harpers desk to see her packing up her backpack, Rayne then gathered up their supplies into their bag and moved to join their friend where she stood.

At 10:30 Rayne was sitting in their art class doodling in their sketchbook, figuring it was a work block their doodles were ideas for what to do with their current assignment. When the teacher walked in Rayne nodded in acknowledgement. Once the teacher was at her desk she began counting for attendance. When the teacher began briefing the class with the plan for the lesson Rayne set down their drawing supplies and directed looked to the front of the class. "Today we are going to be discussing the Edgewater college of the arts, the local art contest." Rayne perked their head up intrigued. "The ECA art contest will give you each a chance to submit an original art piece for the opportunity to gain a scholarship to their prestigious art program. The contest is optional but I highly recommend looking into it, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime for many of you." By the time Mrs. Stasiak had finished speaking Rayne had flipped the page in their sketchbook and had furiously jotted down notes about the art contest.

Rayne spent the rest of their art class with their music blasting from their headphones, their mind racing imagining all of the epic adventures they may have if they manage to win in the art contest. As Rayne thought they sketched, drawing out gorgeously detailed eyes, plump lips and round noses. They sketched an entire page full of faces, practicing different features. This was a habit their hands have seemed to find over the years. They flipped the page and began mindlessly sketching a face, the details seeming to flow effortlessly from their pencil. The face was very strange, half of it the face of a woman and half the face of a man, there was something about it that just drew the eyes of anyone whom may glance its way.

As Rayne continued sketching their thoughts shifted, each line and shape added to their page felt so natural, so right. As the odd face continued to form, should an onlooker take but a moment to truly view the sketch they would see that both halves belonged to the same person. Even as the faces belonged to the one person, they seemed so very different. The only shift between them being gender, yet it looked so heavily significant. Witnesses might explain that the longer they looked the more familiar the piece seemed. It was truly gorgeous.

•••

Once school was over Rayne quickly made their way back to car, where Harper was waiting engrossed in her phone, sitting in shotgun in Hank's car with her feet up on the dash. Rayne pulled themself into the driver's seat, and playfully swatted at Harpers propped legs. "Oi, feet on the dash!" They said in a playful tone. Harper snickered and flipped of her friend dramatically as she retracted her feet back to the floor. "How dare!" Rayne exclaimed in a mock posh voice, followed by a fit of giggles as they started up the car. Hanks soft rumble of life a familiar comfort to the pair of teens.

The drive home from school was fille with the two teens screaming along to I Would Hate Me Too by TX2. Wen they arrived home the two got themselves settled after school. Raynes thoughts passively running to their art project. They were definitely planning to indulge in their extracurricular activities late that evening. An image of a gorgeous nebula as if forms on a wall of a building at night. "Hey earth to Rayne!" Harper said poking them in the arm, pulling them from their thoughts. The song had changed to It Gets Better by Bears In Trees, or as Harper says their song. "You remember when I first played this for you?" Rayne said smiling back at harper. "Of course I do!" Harper stated.

Rayne will never forget that night, dancing on the roof with harper listening to their song, Rayne had been kicked out only hours before. At the time they had been standing on the edge of the roof willing the wind to blow them off the edge. That was until Harper had come up to check on them, she had embraced Rayne from behind and gently pulled them away from the edge. The rest of that evening was filled with warm embraces and dancing to comfort music. That was the night that Rayne and harper really became siblings.

Pulling Hank into their apartments parking lot to park the car. The two friends sat a minute in silence fondly remembering that night two years ago. Eventually they got out of the car and made their way over to the stairs pulling the heavy door open and beginning the climb. "So, who's this girl you’ve been texting?" Rayne asked Harper with a teasing prod in the arm. Rayne watched as their best friends face flushed a deep red. "Oh, um, her name is Chloe, she's really nice we have bio together." Harper mumbled shyly. "Oohh your down bad, huh." Rayne said with a laugh. "Oh shut it." Harper grumbled giving her adopted sibling a playful shove.

#lgbt fiction #my writing #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #my books #reading #origional content #original character #original story #exploring colours

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