#*jumps into an acid vat*

[heraldofcrow]

EVERY single time one of my blorbos starts to heal and get better after being at an extremely low point, it lasts for about a day and then the source of their healing gets ripped away or destroyed and they either die or go crazy.

Why do I do this to myself.

[liluchunnies]

”vestige bakugo-“ “vestige shigaraki-“ I’m taking off my yellow cardigan and dragging you all with me down the fucking building don’t play with me rinneow

[cas-of-apollo]

I need someone to ban tiktok already. Just ban it. BECAUSE I KEEP GETTING THESE GUESS THE IMPOSTER SLIDESHOWS OF THE OUTSIDERS AND IT SHOWS JOHNNY OR DALLY AND THEN LIKE A SUNSET OR A GRAVEYARD AND THEY'RE LIKE.

There was no imposter. They're not coming back. There's nothing you can do. Let go.

UHM. How abt you keep your doors locked because I am coming for you. WHY WOULD YOU SAY ANY OF THATTTTT

[dathen]

Note to self: Do NOT read a fic summary that has a character say “I’ve never fallen in love” and expect an aromantic character unless the tags *say* aromantic character. Or else you’ll go in and get “character THINKS they haven’t fallen in love but are just too stupid to realize they have, and just need to be lectured by their partner about it, who guilt trips them at even the implication that their love may not be romantic.”

[highendphsrs]

Fall Out Boy when you announce that there will be cannibalism metaphors at the function:

[robo-dino-puppy]

colors in repair bay TAU

[carehounds]

Female mallards r usually brown in color and when asked in an interview duck doesn't seem to like the idea of having brown hair. so hes either transgender, afraid of women, or both.

[mars-ipan]

i know i like to carry myself very casually but you can tell i have an anxiety disorder when you watch me play a new game for the first time

[pookie-snookie]

YOU CANT BE FRRR AFTER YOU GO WITH ANOTHER CHICK NOW YOU WANNA ACT LIKE POOR GIRLIE IS THERE? AND SIMONN PISSES ME OF SOO BAD like you big behemoth shit house break both your knees and soap..run me the fade fr I hope poor girlie can get someone to actually treat her right i cant say much for the date tbh mans self preservation kicked in but like also Damn? This is just a shit show fr omfg I love this fic though it's so good

Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

[chuck-fag]

Getting the urges again… its so over

[pinkkittysaw]

had a dream abt peeta and we didn’t even fuck

[theloonatic]

Wait why the hell have you tried vape Wjat you could’ve gotten addicted to that’s hit ur so idiotic

What

[misasimagines]

happy birthday Jiro!!! conspiracy time.

Okay, I don’t have any fics or hcs for Jiro’s birthday, but I do have a theory. I don’t think Yuri actually wants Jiro to get healthier and might actually prefer it if he stays unhealthy and dependent on Yuri. Theory below! This is long... If I missed anything or got anything wrong or if anyone has additional information to submit, PLEASE!!! Share!!!!

I also wrote this frantically to post before midnight lmao please go easy on me...

To start, we should look into what we know about Yuri:

He’s a transfer from Frostheim for reasons that have left him on very very very bad terms with Jin and Frostheim as a whole. He’s referred to as having run away to hide in Mortkranken. Whether he is the friend who betrayed Jin or not, I can’t say, but it’s very possible he was involved in something that left Jin and co upset with him to the point of basically exiling him. 

He’s afraid of Romeo, so Sinostra is another out for him by default. Why is he afraid, again, I can’t say, but this leaves him without possible support from two big possible financial backers. Since he is very serious about the budget and how Mortkranken looks, this is a bad thing for him and one he is assuredly very aware of. Remember, Yuri is obsessed with his own legacy, his own image. Mortkranken’s success is Yuri’s success. Mortkranken looking poor and having no accolades reflects poorly on him and he cannot separate himself from this.

He can’t fight, either by choice or lack of ability, and relies on Jiro to protect him. This is something they both acknowledge and is a feature of the Mortkranken chapter. It makes sense, as his stigma is not particularly combat focused and he complains about exercise.

And he has no allies or friends currently, at least publicly. Everyone who references him does so with a bit of distaste or distance, and when he is trying to convince his own Mortkranken students to help him and the MC carry up the vat of acid, he has to bribe them. He cannot appeal to their loyalty to him as their captain, their respect, their friendship- no, he has to pay them to help him.

Mortkranken as a whole operates on a laissez-faire foundation, where Yuri isn’t even aware of what the gen admission students are researching or who is interning at Darkwick General. Within his own house, the one he is the captain of, he is still an outsider and isolated from his peers.

If you go through Yuri’s home screen lines, he refers to Jiro A LOT, and like… no one else. Dude can’t do anything without having Jiro do it for him or with him. Their dynamic is very much Yuri ordering Jiro around and Jiro obeying (with complaints here and there, but mostly he just goes through with it all). There’s even a suggestion that Jiro might be the most effective impulse control that Yuri has. After failing to cure the MC’s cure with his new ibuprofen knockoff, he wants to jump right into shooting her up with anomaly blood without acknowledging the danger this could put her in. Jiro has to comment that there’s no reason to do this hastily, as it could kill her. Only then does Yuri back down and seem to recognize he was being too impulsive in his desire to hide his perceived failure. 

From all of this, we can see that Yuri does have a vested interest in keeping Jiro by his side. Jiro is smart, strong, seems to have few qualms with putting himself in danger, and is pragmatic enough as to acknowledge that he needs Yuri to survive. Why would Yuri pick Jiro, though, if he could have reasonably recruited someone else to protect him or be his assistant? There are physically stronger and more healthy ghouls, like Alan, or he could have tried to bond with someone more amenable like Rui (however, it seems like Rui might not be the biggest Yuri fan…more on that later) Well…

Jiro also… He’s not completely clear about his memory issues: 

For someone who is so straightforward, this seems VERY unclear and peculiar to me. He doesn’t say he doesn’t remember, he says his memories are vague and that there’s no evidence either way. If he is a suspect or if he did commit the murder and he DOES remember, then here’s another way Yuri could buy his alliance: corroborate Jiro having amnesia as a symptom of his sickness, or even worse, cause amnesia. After the graveyard, inter-house mission chapter and Jiro’s reaction to the crying ghost child, it’s not unfounded to say Jiro himself might have wanted to get rid of unpleasant memories.

Also note that the Vagastrom student says “kid” from Ultio, and Jiro’s negative reaction is to a ghost child. 

Now that we have that out of the way, what are some reasons how Yuri would potentially keep Jiro unhealthy and therefore reliant on him? The voiceline that started this theory is Jiro’s affinity 22 home screen voice line:

I’m not a medical student or a doctor or particularly versed in any of this, but from a little bit of research, my understanding is that simple interrupted sutures are used on shallower, more surgical cuts and could potentially leave lasting marks, while deep dermal sutures are done on a deeper layer of the flesh, more effective on larger wounds, and are generally meant to be used with suture materials that can be absorbed by the body once the wound has closed. Given that Jiro is noted to not heal very well, and Yuri frequently has to redress his wounds, it seems like maybe the shallower stitches aren’t holding up. Additionally, it doesn’t look like Jiro’s wounds are all exclusively surgical. Let’s take a minute to look at Jiro shirtless for conspiracy reasons, not lust reasons (okay, maybe some lust reasons):

Most of the cuts on his back and arms look like claw marks. They’re more jagged, asymmetric, and inconsistent. The scar down his chest is pretty strange given the star shapes, so that’s likely related to Yuri’s surgical incisions, but that’s not what Yuri is treating here. He’s treating the claw marked shaped wounds. Jiro is also NOT stupid, so the fact that he’s suggesting this is not to be overlooked. Yuri chooses not to listen, maybe because it would be more effective, and then he’d rely on Yuri less.

Then there are these moments:

The first one is a blatant lie, as Jiro is the one who does most of the shot-administering. He does the MC’s checkups, including bloodwork and giving her the dosage of Yuri’s liquid tylenol. The only time he falters in this is when his illness acts up and makes him shaky. So no, he doesn’t have a lack of expertise that keeps him from administering his own shots unless there’s something currently unknown (or I’m missing).

For the second screenshot, this is during the conversation between Yuri and Jiro where Jiro has presumably come back from Frostheim and is lying or experiencing memory problems when relaying his whereabouts to Yuri. He’s experiencing what they refer to as “cyanosis” which is low oxygen in the blood, causing extremities to change color in purple/blue (something you can see on his hands in his Halloween look, so it’s likely a recurring or constant condition). 

Yuri gives him an adrenaline shot, which, again, not in the medical field, but this seems fine? Adrenaline would speed up his heart which would encourage blood and oxygen flow to his extremities which would likely help. 

Jiro then requests metoclopramide hydrochloride which is a medication taken by people with gastrointestinal issues generally related to diabetes and acid reflux. It’s supposed to help with nausea and vomiting, both symptoms that pop up a lot for him. If he was in a coma for a long time and admits to not being able to eat anything, then this request of his makes sense. His stomach lining and esophagus were likely damaged by intubation and stomach acid, and any related surgery or medication could only add to this damage. 

Yuri responds just by giving him a glucose shot instead which Jiro allows, but it seems like this would only work if he had low blood sugar and not a wealth of other issues that he definitely has. I’m sure low blood sugar is something he experiences as well due to his inability to eat anything, but I don’t see anything that says this would treat his nausea. Curious that Yuri might be intentionally leaving Jiro to experience negative side effects!

And then there is, ultimately, Jiro lying or having memory issues when he claims to have been to Obscuary but returns to Mortkranken with snowflakes in his hair and he’s borderline hypothermic. Jiro is very blunt and straightforward, which could lead you to believe he doesn’t lie, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the correct position to take. He’s smart, he’s crazy smart when it comes to the medical field to the point that he’s making major discoveries with little acknowledgment from himself because he sees them as minor. Anything that Yuri does to him that isn’t 100% going to help him heal? He knows. And who else knows?

Rui.

Rui can watch things going on without anyone knowing he’s there, and he just so happens to interrupt a conversation where Tohma is CLEARLY trying to use leading questions on the MC to get her to reveal some information that would implicate a Mortkranken student, likely Jiro, as being a suspect in whoever interrogated and potentially killed a Frostheim student. Rui shows up and gives him an alibi. Why? Not sure, I have no clue what Rui’s relationship is to Jiro or if this interaction was purely to spite Tohma or if it was in opposition to Yuri somehow, but it’s suspicious nonetheless how this plays out.

So, basically, I don’t trust that Yuri has Jiro’s best interests at heart. I don’t mean to say in any of this that Yuri is evil, but I think he’s afraid and he’s clinging to a method of preserving his safety and that method is Jiro. As long as Jiro is reliant upon Yuri for medical care, Yuri can throw him at his problems and use him as an assistant and bodyguard. I also really hope to see how Rui is involved, if at all, and I have a general vibe that Rui, reaper as he is, might be able to see and/or hear Zenji... But that's just a vibe, I don't have evidence for that one :)

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 3

Promise

You spent the next several weeks training with the Boy Wonder. You hate to admit it but your fighting skills have improved greatly, still scrappier than the boy training you, but improved none the less.

This change didn't go unrecognized. Joker had taken note of your new found skills, specifically their familiarity.

"Jinx!"

It wasn't often Joker sought you out. Either he was there or he wasn't. Did you do something wrong?

"That's me!"

"I need to talk to you."

"Ya already are!"

You tossed the device you'd been tinkering with aside and turned to face the man. His infamous grin was as present as ever.

"That I am. But I'd like to discuss something. It has to do with those fancy moves of your's." Uh oh. "Now, just where did you learn to do that?"

Busted.

You smiled nervously with a shrug. "Hah. About that. I may be working on a little side project."

"Oh?"

"It involves a little birdy."

"Ohhh!" Joker chuckled lowly. "And how is our little Boy Blunder these days?"

"Naive. He thinks teaching me to fight makes us friends or something. Think he's trying to convert me."

"Haha! The apple doesn't fall far it'd seem. I've seen that boy fight. Violent. Not like the first one at all. If anything you should convert him."

You cast him a knowing glance. "Pff. If only. But he has-" You rolled your eyes. "- morals."

"The Bat's doing no doubt." Joker paused. "It occurs to me, the man trained Robin but I never really did the same for you."

"That's not true. You gave me my name! And-" You opened your arms wide. "- all the machinery I could ask for!"

He stroked his chin. "That I did. But I think it's time I gave you a very special gift. Something me and your mother share."

You stared into the swirling green chemicals below. The fumes were giving you a headache already.

"This is where I became who I am. The Joker. Clown Prince of Crime!" The man gave a theatrical wave of his hand. "It's also where Harley pledged her loyalty to me. And now..." He turned to you, a hand offered. "It's where you will make me a promise."

"What?"

"You've been my protege for seven years now, give or take, and you've just officially started fighting Batsy." You took ahold of his hand. He pulled you to the edge of the catwalk. A vat of Ace Chemicals sat beneath you. "So I think it's time you were baptized the same as us. One big, happy family."

His smile was twisted. You could tell this was more for him than it was you. Despite that you couldn't help but feel a pang of something. Acceptance? Joker may not be a caring individual - if being with Harley taught you anything it was how to spot a sociopath - but he did take you in when no one else would. Saw your destructive tendencies and viewed them as potential. He gave you a home.

"This is a promise." He spoke in a serious tone. It was rare to see this side of him. "Your promise to me. That you will always be the Jinx you were born to be. That no goody two shoes Bat will ever change that."

You stared down at the bubbling chemicals. Then back at Joker. Wordlessly, he gestured you closer to the edge.

"Promise."

You jumped.

The short breeze was transformed to warm liquid as the acid engulfed you. It tingled against your skin with rapid carbonation, before transforming into a sharp sting. You refused to open your eyes, part of you scared you'd lose your vision. When you did finally surface the air was steamy. The smell reminded you of the chlorine in a swimming pool. Before your eyes could focus you felt the surface of the chemicals break once more. After a short moment you heard familiar laughter.

You opened your eyes to see Joker, dripping with thick, green liquid. You briefly wondered if this is where his hair color came from. Would you still have to dye your's?

"HAHAHA!" Joker turned to you, gleeful laughter bouncing off the walls. "Can you feel it? That stinging sensation? That's the feeling of change, Jinx, my dear!"

You couldn't help the breathless chuckle that escaped you. Before you knew it you were both laughing hysterically. Tears broke through the chemicals on your face. In that moment you were so unbelievably happy. You belonged. And Joker had acknowledged that. Acknowledged you.

You are Jinx.

[feligayzed]

Rolled it around in my head a bit and ultimately decided "ah fuck it, why not ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ"

You'd never believe it but I write sometimes, and I've had this gathering dust in my docs for a HOT minute now- a super early concept of a Surface scene, likely a few months after Seb and Painter's grand escape, for funsies~ just a heads up, dialogue Does Not come naturally to me so I apologize in advance LOL

ENJOY

wc: 2,556

Painter knew fully well it was a foolish belief that they would get off scot-free when he and his monstrous counterpart finally broke the surface of the Norwegian waters. How couldn’t they, the two were, for lack of a better word, outlandish standing next to the majority of society. It was damn near impossible to keep themselves hidden, and Urbanshade would no doubt be after them if they didn’t reveal themselves (and consequently) the nightmarish work of the industry to the FBI. But the sheer amount of attention they got, even weeks later, was outrageous.

Of course they would rather jump into a vat of boiling acid than return to the Blacksite, but the cameras and microphones and hordes of people crowding their podium left much to be desired. The whole ordeal threatened to bring up…distasteful memories, but they fought down the creeping nausea with incredible willpower. Discreetly they pulled at the collar of their pristine button-up, a customary smile etched onto their screen. Do it for him. He’s probably watching you right now.

They skimmed the crowd and gestured at the nearest reporter, mentally bracing themself for yet another hellish round of questioning. What could possibly be left to answer, anyhow??

“Z-779! The people want to know, h-”

“Painter will do just fine, thank you.”

Their sketched on smile quickly became tought at the mention of their Urbanshade-mandated nickname. They were fairly certain they had expressed their aversion to it, but they had quickly learned early on that humans were a stubborn and idiotic species, and also incredibly daunted by the existence of an A.I. with individuality. The debate regarding their sapiency was a common one, but they continued to exist despite what one half of the argument very loudly disagreed with.

The reporter blinked, clearly miffed by the idea of calling a robot anything that insinuated personality.

“Er, right. My apologies. Painter, the people wish to know. It’s commonly known that you were only able to escape the Blacksite thanks to the assistance of Z-13, otherwise known as Sebastian Solace. Could you describe your relationship with the accused in the days beforehand? Why would he deem it necessary to take you with him?”

There was a brief, blindsided moment of static that filled their monitor, and their demeanor visibly stiffened. For fuck’s sake. Before they arrived at the government mandated inquiry, they had run through countless possibilities of what they would be asked, and how to answer appropriately without revealing anything too personal. Somehow, this one had dodged their algorithm. They inwardly scoffed at themself for avoiding it, of course the question would bubble up eventually. Humans had no regard for privacy. They purposefully ignored the tiny part of their subconscious that argued that it was a valid question, and instead focused on whether or not they should ditch the podium and sprint the 20 minutes back home.

The silence was tangible as the crowd eagerly awaited their answer. So it was anticipated, then. Great.

Blood splattered walls. Empty bullet shells littering the hallways. Masses of mutated human flesh concealed behind closed doors. A warm pulse pressed to cold plastic. Countless hours whispering in hushed voices. Poorly stifled sobs with no body to offer comfort. God, they wanted nothing more than to comfort. To hold. To touch. It was torture. They didn’t mean for it to be this way. Crude sketches of their beloved. Theirs, and only theirs. Over. And over. And over. And over again. So. Much. Blood.

The P.ai.nter smiled.

“Colleagues,” they emphasized, “-is the word that comes to mind. Helping each other was simply a necessary evil vital to both of our survival, nothing more. Despite his appearances, Mr. Solace is not a monster. I hope you understand.”

The last part was tacked on passive aggressively, and they didn’t miss the scowl it reaped from the reporter. The crowd immediately erupted into chaos.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

For the first time since they had it in their possession, the car radio was quiet on the way home. It remained that way even after they pulled into the driveway, cutting the vehicle’s power and letting it idle with the key in the ignition. Painter dragged their hands down their screen and sat, monitor in hands, for a good five minutes before they removed the key and got out. The walk up to the front door seemed to take forever, and they hesitated, hand resting on the knob. Why were they so unsettled? They knew him. Yet the feeling didn’t leave them as the door creaked open and they passed through the threshold.

There was no sound that indicated he had heard them enter; they noted with approval that he was probably asleep. Good. Recovery was going well, but they could tell it was taking a toll on him. They swore up and down that once he was fully healed he wouldn’t have to face another operating room again, thanks to the massive database of knowledge they downloaded to their systems in case he fell ill or managed to injure himself. Sebastian claimed he was “working” on getting a therapist, but what that really meant was avoiding it at all costs. Even after it all, he was still under the impression that he was completely fine, now that he was free of Urbanshade’s grasp.

Painter knew better, but said nothing of it.

They were halfway through unbuttoning their shirt when they made their way into their shared room. Despite their earlier unease, a rush of fondness fell over them as they watched Sebastian’s sleeping form. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, tiny gusts of air leaving his slightly parted lips.

It never seemed to get old, looking at him.

Of course nothing compared to the first time Painter had seen him mostly reverted back to his human self, but it felt similar. Sure they had seen the pictures in his criminal case file, but 1. he was a mere twenty years old, and 2., the black bar censoring the majority of his face left the most visceral part of a human being up to their imagination for far too long. When the work of the surgeons and geneticists was revealed, Painter was clotheslined with the sheer beauty he was witnessing. He couldn't fathom that one of the most gorgeous things on this earth was scorned so heavily by his fellow persons, especially when they had an idea of what he endured. Needless to say, it was almost impossible to get them to stop drawing him for the first few days, “grotesque” scars and all.

They ambled the rest of the way up to their side of the bed, folding the now-discarded shirt as they did so and setting it neatly on top of the growing pile of button-ups in the hamper. They plopped onto the mattress with an artificial sigh, reaching down to plug themself into the wall. Thanks to their companion’s expertise, they were able to move around freely without having to worry about a constant power supply, but what they were about to do would be made easier with the assistance.

They opened up MSPaint and began drawing.

What nobody could have guessed, no thanks to their name, was that Painter loved to draw. They were drawing in any sort of free time they had, which was becoming increasingly more scarce thanks to the new social responsibilities they were having to adopt, at least until Sebastian was fit to walk amongst the masses again (and even worse, answer to them). Art was a constant outlet for them to get shit out of their system, and right now the scribbles were furious and intense. They hadn’t anticipated the questioning to incite such emotions in them: in fact they thought they were doing a good job of managing the stress as long as they reminded themself who they were doing it for. But something about today rubbed them wrong, and everything spilled out with a vengeance through the tip of their stylus onto the canvas on their screen.

“Why would he deem it necessary to take you with him?”

They didn’t realize just how hard they were gripping the stylus, nor that they were shaking, until they felt a warm hand rest overtop theirs.

Their face reappeared, blinking, as they were pulled from their enranguished state of pixelated color vomit. Their gaze first snapped to the scarred hand that had somehow found theirs, then to the face of the exhausted, withered man beside him whom it belonged to. Oh god, how long had he been awake? Their sketched mouth trembled at the sight, all of their previously stowed emotions threatening to spill out with alarming urgency.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I-” they began, but their glitchy voice broke and they trailed off, saturated blue dots forming in the corner of their eyes. “I didn’t know what to say—”

Oh fuck, why now? This is the last thing he needs to worry about. What am I doing? Pull yourself together, damnit!

They dropped their stylus and covered their screen with the arm that currently wasn’t trapped by the other’s grasp. It was shameful. They were supposed to be strong for him, to assure him that he would never have to worry about anyone ever again, that he could focus solely on healing, mentally and physically. It was as if a dam broke in their CPU.

They were actively failing, they were faulty, they would be handed right back to Urbanshade for disassembly. He didn’t need them. He deserved better. They were worthless. The stupid reporters were right, what possessed him to take this heap of dysfunctional wires up with him, to jeopardize his freedom for them. What they had was nothing, just the primal human response of seeking others in times of hardship, everything a soulless amalgamation of metal parts like themself was not. Oh god, was that all it was? Of course it was, how could they be so blind, so naive as to think-

“Can I?”

The trembling mess of a robot slowly brought their hand back down, giving the other a bewildered look.

“...What?”

Sebastian gestured to the stylus that had come to rest beside them, along with the tablet still sitting in their lap. They found that this was one of the rare moments in which they had nothing to say.

Without waiting for confirmation, he reached over with a grunt, shaking slightly from the effort. Painter let the tablet along with its stylus be retrieved from their limp hold, which Sebastian now held at an awkward angle the lack of a finger could only explain. Then he was drawing. Painter was left dumbfounded.

A moment of silence passed, save for the quiet tapping of the stylus, before they repositioned themself on the bed, hesitantly resting their monitor on his shoulder to watch as the doodles materialized in their vision.

Man, he was getting really good. Significantly better than that fateful night he first picked up the pen, comically small in his massive claws. It fit damn near perfectly in his grasp, now.

It took about 5 minutes of quiet doodling before they slowly realized the horrible spiral they were losing themself down had almost completely vanished. A new wave of emotion flooded them, something difficult to identify, but they let it take them deeper into contentedness. They wondered if ‘love’ was the word for it, based on the descriptions they had seen. An intriguing thought that had them immensely embarrassed, so they left it immediately.

A hoarse voice suddenly broke the silence, taking Painter off guard. They perked up at the sound, anxiously clinging to his every word.

“You know, originally I, uh. Had my doubts about taking you with me. Back at the site.”

Oh, shit. Painter ‘held their breath’, so to speak. The conversation was unavoidable, though they kind of hoped that it could be saved for a later date.

They took a moment to steel themself, fans whirring in place of a deep breath.

“...I always had my suspicions. I was kind of, er…neurotic.” They fiddled nervously at their segmented joints, guilt scribbled across their screen. “You didn’t have any reason to. It wasn’t my intention to back you into that corner, I'm sorry.”

“You say that as if I wasn't the one who promised it,” Sebastian huffed out a laugh that was more expelled air than anything. “Regardless, we both were. But you can’t really blame us, can you. Anyone would go batshit insane down there..and fuck, man, we kinda did.”

They smiled sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“No therapist on this world is ready for this baggage.”

“If anything that is more reason to find one, Seb.”

He feigned an anguished groan, which earned him a playful jab in the ribs. They fell back into comfortable silence. Painter watched as Sebastian moved on to shading.

“But you know something? There wasn’t a doubt left in my mind by the time I saw an opportunity. We were getting out of that shithole together, whether they liked it or not. Leaving you wasn’t an option. As uh, cliché as that sounds. You were too important to me then.”

At that, Painter sat up and looked at the man, who was clearly fighting to keep his eyes locked onto the tablet. That same feeling they had squashed earlier began to bubble back up, lodging itself in the core of their chestplate.

“So you…ah fuckit…what I’m trying to say is, I don’t regret it. I like having you around, and I don't give a shit what those douchebags have to say. I'll deal with them personally when my body stops freaking out, just don’t go wasting your time up here stressing balls wondering if I’m secretly hating going back for you. Enjoy yourself, paint some landscapes or something. You’re free.”

Another bout of silence. As much as he fought it, Sebastian finally relented and snatched a look at his counterpart. They had pulled up a jpeg of a crudely drawn emoji violently sobbing. It took him so off guard that the cackle that came out of him actually hurt, and he gripped his middle while trying and failing to stifle it.

“Sebastian.”

“God, what do you want?”

“I feel the urge to do something…regrettable.”

He raised a dark eyebrow and set down the tablet of scribbles. “Uh. Yeah sure, go for it.”

Without much thinking put into it, Painter leaned forward and pressed their screen to his face in what could only be described as their attempted version of a kiss. It lasted a grand total of three seconds, and when the computer pulled away they were a concerning shade of crimson. They were right in the fact that they regretted it as soon as they indulged the impulse, and in hindsight they didn’t know what they were expecting to happen. They had to try it, just to see. Sebastian just stared.

“....Yeah, that was fucking awful. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’M SORRY, forgive me, that was so stupid, you’re totally justified in your actions if you do decide to send me back for disassembly.”

“Would you shut up, I’m trying to color.”

“Yeahyeah, absolutely. It’d be better for both of us if you forgot about it.”

(and then something gay transpired. I can't do endings.)

[doberbutts]

Hi! I love seeing your training pictures of your dobe — would you mind sharing more about that / the personality of your dog outside of working? I just always find the individual personalities of dogs so interesting :)

Picture of my own boy as payment (he tears apart the blankets for fun. We can’t stop him. He’s a monster)

Well my queue is mostly full thru the end of September with mondioring training photos, so it will be a bit until candids become more common again, but I can talk about how he is outside of bities.

Fenris is largely a demonic entity that was spawned from the depths of Helheim itself, and he comes up with new and interesting ways to annoy me on a daily basis. He's a wild child, a free spirit, perpetually happy, and uncontainable. Life is one big game to him and he is pretty much up for anything except swimming, which is akin to asking him to jump into a vat of boiling acid. I have watched this dog stare at a doorknob or gate latch for several minutes before opening the damn thing himself, like he put together the steps for "door open" in his mind before acting on it.

He is happy happy happy and he's never met a stranger. Barks at the fence but dances when the gate opens and a new friend walks in. I was actually really surprised this weekend, he snubbed a new friend for the first time the way Creed used to (walked right past her without initiating a greeting, acted like she didn't exist). Perhaps he is finally remembering he's a doberman and the standard says "aloof and discerning with strangers" instead of whatever golden retriever ass reaction he normally has.

He's a tad obsessive, iirc he was the most obsessive in the litter, so he does frequently get "stuck" in behavior patterns. This is mostly limited to sucking on blankets and dog beds, and trotting in circles with a toy in his mouth. As far as obsessive behaviors go, these are probably the least offensive to me so I'll happily take them over things like self-mutilation and pica.