artificial earring


Doodling some random ocs with the idea of “Artificial Life”, “Androgynous Being” and “Hermaphrodite or Genderless" 

 "We are not humans! we are not flesh and bones!”

Maybe they are like robots or something else, created to be servants, sex partners, pets, Im still not sure about anything but its fun to draw them.

The skull with the seashell ear: A female Neolithic skull and its prosthetic seashell ear dating to approx. 300BC, found in a megalithic chamber tomb in Roque dAille in the Var. 

The skull shows evidence the woman had survived trephination and gone on to live for many ears. The artificial ear also shows signs of wear and tear, possibly from the woman playing with it.

Photo by Gustaf Sobin, published in “Luminous Debris: Reflecting on Vestige in Provence and Languedoc” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999).

Things, that happen, when I try this weird stuff called “colouring”: I ruin a face so bad, that I have to paste it over and redraw it.

Anyway, as long as the lovely @namby-pamby24 likes the pic, I’m happy. <3

A wee bit of context:

Data gets a love-lick from Spot. He is confused at first, but then realizes that this is a cats way to show affection. <3

Plus he doesn’t wear his full uniform, because I really love to shade arms it’s in the wash. Or something. Who knows. I’m afraid you have to make up your own explanations for this.



age: (looks) 25
gender id: male (he/him)
genesis: android
position: ship operational systems
status: taken


Contrary to most beings in the universe, particularly humans; DATA remembers his birth. Tints of green permeated the air of the crowded lab, casting the curious faces surrounding his immobile form in an ominous, alien-like light. Accompanying the clearing vision of eyes opened for the first time, DATA could hear muffled voices buzzing with anticipation and excitement. Each inflection wrapped around foreign syllables, echoing through the hollow fibers of artificial ears, until he began to recognize the distinctive tone and timbres of various humans forming recognized words.  

He was not created by a god, but rather by humans far too desperate to take the title for themselves. Perhaps it was better that way: where intentions lie in the category of benevolence when creation is concerned.

Theon, a name pronounced with pride, was accompanied by a sudden burst of recognition. This man – and he was just that: a man – claimed himself as creator. And DATA, knowing little else in the world yet more than any of the other organic creatures in the room, accepted such a proclamation without question.

Theon began slow, feeding DATA the information he deemed necessary in what was perceived to be a manageable amount. Yet learning, even confined within the parameters of the sheltered code restricting every thought, was a practice that could never be denied. It was an action as fundamental to his being as breathing was to his human counterparts. Where they instinctively knew to inhale and exhale in a dormant desperation to keep their heart beating, DATA held the intrinsic need to always seek more, do more, be more. Weeks later he watched as blatant joy flashed across Theon’s face when he asked for information not initially offered to him, a laugh of delight falling from his creator’s lips at the obvious sight of progress.

The most fascinating of subjects were those he spent the majority of his time with. Humans were endlessly intriguing to DATA. Their behavior, while illogical at the best of times, provided an endless amount of useful case studies for his examination of emotions. Slowly, he began to not only observe but also recognize the various feelings that would flutter over the features of those organic species he interacted with. Sadness was typically accompanied by a harsh frown but could be masked by a strained smile; frustration could be categorized by a furrowed brow and focused eye, yet easily give way to the relaxed relief of inevitable understanding; happiness was almost always accompanied by toothy grins or hearty laughs; sarcasm was still extremely difficult to detect but could occasionally be uncovered by the distinguished tones of masked disgust.

Once he was able to recognize such expressions, DATA was then able to mimic their behavior. Steel fingers covered in stitched skin would flinch and fiddle under the adoption of nervous anticipation, the soft curve of synthetic lips could express elation or perhaps even concern when paired with a creased brow, affection was harder, for that had to be found within the intention of a gaze rather than an expression of carefully crafted features.

The first time he saw fear, however, left him with the apprehensive inquisition of his own intention. He had been reminded by the overheard placating of his creator that androids were tools, their tools, and that an android’s intentions could therefore never deviate from the intentions of their code or creator. Theon’s attempt at pacifying the frightened woman did little to dispel the wide eyes and wavering calls of concern. Myths of a desire for domination were thrown at DATA in the form of an accusation, an irrational claim based on absent evidence that could easily be disputed by the numerous facts he held unlimited access to. Yet his attempts to propose such information only fueled the woman’s fear.  

It was in that moment that DATA realized the overwhelming otherness he exuded by simply existing. He would never know what it was like to belong; and yet, until this moment he had never longed for the company of shared identity or resented the loneliness that had always plagued his presence.

Although it would be easy to disregard the entire experience as an example of the irrational behavior humans were so prone toward, DATA experienced another new sensation: doubt. The problem with super intelligence, he found, was that each new doubt yielded further doubt; and with the capacity to run every probable (and improbable) possibility, DATA found himself quickly questioning every certainty he had ever known. Were these humans, so full of fright, sensible in their weariness of his enhanced abilities? Theon did his best to convince DATA of the inaccuracy of the woman’s ignorance, but doubt remained.

He thought, for a brief moment, that perhaps Theon had accepted the mission of the Benefactor in an attempt to protect DATA. Under the distraction of mundane work, DATA would remain reluctantly occupied and unable to ponder the questions even his endless array of knowledge held no answers for. However, even amidst the limited company of the ship, DATA has found the sapling of doubt previously present in his mind bursting into an untamed forest of uncertainty with vines of ivy wrapping around every thought in a toxic display of biased mystery.


In this day and age, Androids are still enigmatic beings to me and I would do well without one if not for their incredible utility. It’s practically impossible to conduct an operation without the mind of an Android to help identify possible errors and uphold logic far above the emotions organics often encompass. However, the effect I desired doesn’t seem to be well-accomplished by this machine. I wonder if that is something which can be fixed or if I’ll be forced to replace him with a far newer and improved model.


  • THEON - There is no one else you care for more, but you question whether this is a matter embedded within your code; whether these feelings are man-made or merely a fault. After all, they were the one who gave you life; shaped you into the image of someone they cared for long ago. It’s both an honor and a burden you bear, the intent to uphold perfection when you feel more flawed each day.
  • ERETREIA - In a ship full of questionable human beings, she fascinates you the most; everything you thought you knew about humans and their nature is put into question when you observe her. Unlike the rest of the crew, her criminality is wrapped in good intentions and survival instinct which makes you query what good and bad truly mean.


Tom Holland

Imagine: Luke Skywalker fighting Darth Vader

For anon…. Enjoy!! Fun fact: I watched all of the original trilogy’s lightsaber duels to help me write this :D

It was dark. The carbon-freezing chamber was eerily cold, red light illuminating from a short flight of stairs leading up a small platform. Mist rose from it’s floor, swirling around a black figure that stood as still as a stone, their arms at their sides. The figure was staring right at you, a familiar expressionless mask with dead eyes boring into you. It wasn’t until you heard their raspy breathing did your heart leap into your throat, pounding frantically.

“Vader.” You whispered, your hand sneaking to your holster and pulling out your blaster pistol. It’s metal exterior shone red as the light reflected off of it.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Darth Vader growled, his voice monotone.

You fidgeted, your legs starting to shake.

“Luke isn’t here.” You replied unconfidently, pointing your blaster pistol at the Sith.

Vader remained motionless.

“Do not lie to me. I can sense his presence. He is here, on Cloud City.”

Your hand started to shake.

“You won’t get to him. We won’t let you.” You snarled, blinking rapidly.

Vader just stared.

“We? Don’t amuse me. Solo has been frozen in carbonite and the princess and the Wookie have been taken prisoner. There is no more we. It is only you.” He said, his voice like ice.

Almost unconsciously, your finger pulled down on the trigger, which sent a red laser blast exploding in Vader’s direction.

As if it appeared out of thin air, a red beam of energy erupted from Darth Vader’s hand, deflecting the blaster fire and sending it back in your direction.  Before you could react, it hit you in the chest, making your lungs scream out in panic and terror.

You fell backwards, your pistol slipping through your fingers. You couldn’t breathe, or move, or scream. You hit the floor hard, a sharp pain erupting in the back of your head.

As soon as it had come, the burning in your chest subsided and you were swallowed up into eternal darkness, light fading from your vision.


Luke’s scream echoed around the chamber, piercing Vader’s artificial ears. The Sith spun on his heel to his son standing before him, anguish making his face red. His blue lightsaber was ablaze and his knuckles were wrapped around it’s hilt tightly. They were white.

“Skywalker. It’s a pleasure.” Vader drawled, raising his own red lightsaber.

Luke charged at Darth Vader, his mouth opened in a hoarse yell. He brought his lightsaber down on the Sith, swinging with extreme force. Vader blocked his attack, their lightsabers sizzling as they clashed.

Luke drew back and swung at Vader again, blind with fury and agony. He slashed at the Sith relentlessly, exerting precious energy with every swing.

Vader blocked Luke’s clumsy advances almost lazily, pushing the young boy back effortlessly.

“You think you’re a Jedi?” Darth Vader taunted, leaping backwards and landing several feet away from Luke, making no sound as he landed. “You may be strong with the Force, but you are no Jedi, Luke.”

Luke heaved in deep, rattling breaths as he glared daggers at the Sith, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

“I don’t need to be a Jedi.” He snarled. “At least I’m not Dark Side filth!”

Vader stood rigidly in front of his son, yearning to tell him the truth. If only.

“Your petty insults do not affect me, Luke. You are weaker than I had imagined.” He growled quietly, his lightsaber’s tip hissing as it kissed the ground. 

Luke straightened up, sheathing his lightsaber. His eyes were ablaze.

“It is you that is weak, Vader. It takes strength to resist the Dark Side. Only the weak embrace it!”

The Sith glared at his son, his own lightsaber disappearing into it’s hilt. 

“This is not the last time we will be seeing each other, Skywalker.” He said monotonously before spinning abruptly and leaving Luke to himself.

Luke didn’t go after him, and he had no idea why. Vader had his back turned, he could strike him down right then and there. It could be over. 

Luke remembered you, lying on the cold ground, the light that had died from your eyes.

He raced to your side, dropping to his knees as he desperately felt for a pulse. There was no sign of life.

“No.” He whispered, pressing his ear to your chest hopelessly, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

Luke started to say your name over and over again, muttering endlessly into the darkness. Your blaster pistol was still hooked around your finger.

Rippling Dreams

Summary: Adrien dreams of a girl in red and black spots with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. And he dreams of losing her and curses himself for being useless every night. AU where Ladybug sacrifices herself and Chat has amnesia.

A/N: I am crap and I really like pain. And I shall share it with you. Here ya go!

Word Count: 2.1k+

Read it on FFnet / AO3

When Adrien dreams, he dreams of a golden lit Paris at night, the luminous moon hanging eternally in the sky, him crouching casually on a rooftop and a girl standing next to him. The distant lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkle, as if fairy dust was sprinkled all over the magnificent structure, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the scenic view in front of him. Instead, he’s marvelling at the girl and the city reflected in her sky-blue eyes.

She’s a slender girl, wearing a full bodysuit of red and black spots and a similarly patterned mask over her face, but he finds that the red draws him in all the more. Her glossy midnight hair shines sapphire blue in the light, tied in two very endearing pigtails, which sway as she turns to him, smiling and offering a hand for him to stand up.

Adrien stares speechlessly, frozen as he is struck by the full force of her hypnotic eyes. He remembers that she’s still waiting for him to take his hand, and suddenly he is scared. Terrified. He is aware that she’s a very pretty girl who instantly makes him feel incredibly self-conscious, but the fear chills him too deeply in his chest to be something that simple.

But her smile gives him courage, the courage to reach out to her outstretched hand.

He doesn’t manage to touch it. Because the girl starts to disappear in front of his eyes and Adrien springs up in alarm, stumbling on his legs to chase after her fading figure. He reaches out to her, trying again and again, to bring her back, to feel her warm beating body against his, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who she is but a name tumbles out of his mouth:


And Adrien wakes up. He is in his room, alone, in his cold mansion and there is no red to be found.

Countless times, he has woken up in the same manner. He always forgets the name his dream self utters but he always remembers the girl in his dreams.

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