#i kind of struggle with writing robots with free will | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brooklynisher · 10 days

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Alright, I'll post it here. Please be nice, it's my first published writing on here :}

CW for emotional distress, yelling, and animal abuse

Green Light

The Spine has been called on by Peter Walter to participate in a few tests, but The Spine can’t help but feel that there’s something very wrong about these tests.

The Spine stood still counting the number of wires in the room. He counted the wires, then the flasks, then the ratio of flasks, empty to full to partially full. He would read the paper. Making sure to read each and every word carefully and slowly. Refusing to continue until he understood every last bit of what he just read. This is how he spends his free time. It’s not like he has much else to do. Aside from the fact that he and all of the other robots haven’t been around for more than a few months, there’s also a lot he’s simply not allowed to do. But as much as he hates being unable to do anything he wants, he has developed some essential skills considerably faster than the others.

When he learned how to read, that’s all he really did, though he limited himself to the newspapers. He was pretty caught up in current events as a result. Counting, fractioning, identifying things around the room, while being relatively simple tasks to most adults, was a huge learning experience for the titanium robot. Anything he can do to be just a bit smarter was propitious.

Peter Walter walks in with a strange expression on his face. The Spine can’t tell if he’s angry, passionate, if his feelings are strong or dull, he simply can’t tell. He feels it’s a failure in his ability to identify facial expressions.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?” The Spine straightens his posture.

“I need you to come with me.”

He makes a small gesture urging The Spine to follow him. The Spine spine responds with a simple, “Yes sir.” before taking his inventor’s lead. He tries to make sure any anxiety doesn’t show. He’s a robot after all. He’s not supposed to be feeling things like anxiety. Yet he can’t help but feel slightly anxious every time Peter calls on him to do something he doesn’t know anything about. They arrived in a small concrete room. It’s mostly empty with the exception of an oddly colorful board hanging high up on the wall. The board contains the names of each Walter automaton followed by 5 red lightbulbs. A few of the bulbs for each robot are green, but none are out of order. Peter orders The Spine to stay put before leaving the room. The Spine tries to make observations while he waits.

“Rabbit… 3 green lights… 2 red… Zer0… 5 green lights… 0 red… Hatchworth-”

Peter Walter has returned. The Spine straightens his posture once again. Peter seems to be pulling a large wagon of some kind. The contents inside the wagon are covered with a beige tarp. Peter approaches The Spine.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?”

“Take my wrist.”

He pulls up his sleeve. The Spine notices that Peter’s wrist seems to be oddly beat up. He’s not sure what this could mean, but he must obey orders. He grips his wrist as gently as possible trying not to harm him.

“Squeeze it,” Peter commands.

Squeeze it? But The Spine is made out of metal. Peter is made out of flesh. The Spine doesn’t have sensory receptors. Peter does. For all he knows, he already has a tight grip around Peter’s wrist. What if he hurts him? What would he do? But The Spine has learned that obedience is better than defiance. Even if it’s at the risk of causing more issues. He squeezes his wrist.

“AUGH!”

Peter pulls his hand away and turns his back towards The Spine. The Spine is instantly filled with regret, grabbing his own hand as if to keep it under control. He canes his neck just enough to see the damage he has caused. Peter’s hand is limp. Oh god.

“Pe- Mister Walter! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I- I was just-” He tries to apologize, but the words struggle to escape him. He’s not even allowed to apologize. If he apologizes, then that means he made a mistake. And mistakes are a no-go here.

“Stop your stammering!” Peter hisses at him.

The Spine only hangs his head low. Ready to endure whatever it is that he deserves. Peter takes a big shaky breath in.

“You’re… you’re fine… This is good. You’re very strong. Maybe even the strongest automaton I’ve built yet… I could do without the apologizing and the stuttering.”

What? Good? He just broke his inventor’s wrist! Of all the mistakes The Spine made in his short lifespan, how was THIS the one that Peter excuses? Hell, he seems more angry about him apologizing and stuttering than he is about him breaking his wrist. What kind of twisted logic is that? Does he want The Spine to hurt him? But those are questions for later. The least The Spine can do right now is be considerate. He waits for a couple of moments to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Sir, will your wrist be alright?”

“The depths of science in which I have delved are unlike any other. If I can build such a great number of automatons in such a short period using a substance I alone have discovered, then surely I can heal a broken wrist.”

He takes a controller out of his pocket with his good hand and pushes a button. One of the lights next to The Spine’s name turns green. He then turns to the wagon and pulls off one of the tarps, unveiling a dummy. He drags it out of the wagon and places it down on the ground using one arm. The Spine feels bad leaving him to struggle on his own like this, but he didn’t ask for help, so it’s best he just leaves it to him.

“Alright The Spine. Hit it.”

“... Anywhere?”

“As hard as you can.”

The Spine nods and faces the dummy. He can’t necessarily hit “hard” as he doesn’t have muscle but he can hit fast. So he curls his hand up into a fist and punches the dummy in the head as the humans do in news stories at full speed. The body is pushed back, head flying off. The head slams into the wall creating a small shockwave of dust. The Spine flinches. Peter side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything. He hits another button, and another bulb by his name goes green. He moves back to the wagon unveiling another dummy. He drags it to the center and looks straight towards The Spine.

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine,”

The Spine nods involuntarily.

“Activate blue matter ray projector arrays.”

And just like so, The Spine’s arm shifts into an intense-looking weapon. This throws The Spine off guard, but he keeps quiet.

“The Spine, I’d like you to shoot that dummy.”

The Spine looks at the dummy, then back at his hand.

“... How… How do I do that sir?” The Spine asks unaware he even had this feature installed.

“You’re going to have to figure it out on your own. Just as you will in order to disable it.”

The Spine looks back up at the dummy. He doesn’t understand what to do but still points his arm in its direction. He tries to move each part of his arm as if it were normal, and to his surprise, he is successful. The blue matter ray charged up. He aimed it toward the chest of the dummy feeling slightly uneasy. Something about this feels wrong, but he shoots. Before the beam hit, Peter managed to open up an umbrella, shielding himself from the bright red substance that now covers the room. The Spine’s body becomes a mess of red. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. What… What was that? While The Spine was still trying to process what had just happened, he didn’t notice Peter’s glare.

“Relax yourself.”

The Spine closes his mouth, straightens his posture, and tries to rest his shoulders and eyes. However, he finds that he is struggling to calm down. He doesn’t know why he feels so distressed, but something about that didn’t sit right with him. The third light next to his name turns green as Peter hits the button. He pulls out one more dummy, which makes The Spine feel nervous.

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine, activate chainsaw.”

His other arm switches into a chainsaw, alarming him quite a bit. He tries to disable his other arm so that he has a free hand. As he does this, Peter simply stands against a wall and watches. He doesn’t say anything. The Spine looks back at him, hoping he tells him to do something different, but Peter only observes. It’s obvious what he wants him to do. The Spine turned back to the dummy.

“It’s probably just ink…” He thinks to himself still feeling uneasy. He preps his chainsaw and turns it on. The vibrations it produces are undeniably strong. It was almost as if he could feel it. He closes his eyes and slashes the chainsaw through the dummy. His eyes reopened to the sound of screaming. It’s even messier than before. He pulls his chainsaw back staring at the brutalized dummy now dyed red. Did it scream? Was it alive? He doesn’t move. His chainsaw slows to a full stop. What did he do? Another light turned green, he’s now down to his last light before all five of them turn green.

“Are you ready for your final test?” Peter asks.

Is that what they were? Not that it mattered what they were. The Spine was not ready. If anything he was afraid. He was afraid of what came next. He was afraid of Peter Walter. So of course, he nodded. Peter unveils the final hidden object in the wagon as The Spine deactivates his chainsaw. The final hidden object is none other than a crate. A crate… He opens the crate and pulls out a dog…

“No.” The Spine accidentally says out loud. He looks away, trying to hide his face.

“I’ll let you use any method you’d like.”

“No.” Though it was stupid before, it’s almost as though he can’t control himself. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s not going to follow through with this. Peter doesn’t say anything for a second. He then starts to speak.

“You know… there’s a reason why I’m not with the others right now.”

The Spine doesn’t respond.

“The others are sweet robots. And lighthearted ones at that. But they’ve always been a little bit… zany. Compared to you at least.”

The Spine grimaces.

“The only reason why I’m so ‘normal’ compared to the others is because you forced me to be! If I had it my way, I’d be just as wacky as the others, if not a bit more mature.” He wanted to say. But he knew arguing wouldn’t do him any good. Especially in a situation like this where that’s not the problem. So as much as he wanted to fight Peter on this, the best he could do for himself was bite his tongue.

“Such wild and eccentric personalities… They’d never want to hurt a soul… but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”

By now, four of the six main automatons have already achieved all five lights. That leaves one other who has yet to complete the test.

“And I’ll admit, it was partially my fault. My idea of the perfect robot would’ve never led up to this moment, yet it has. So for the sake of humanity, I’m going to need you to let go of some of what I had taught you. Obedience is key. Listen to me The Spine.”

The Spine slouches a little shaking his head.

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“But I can’t.”

“The Spine-”

“It’s a living creature! I can’t make myself do it…” The Spine then makes the mistake of looking at the puppy. It yawns a big yawn before lying down. His resistance grows stronger. How is he supposed to kill this thing?

“Kill the dog The Spine.”

“Why don’t you just make me kill the dog? Won’t that be easier? It’s not like you don’t have the power to.” His response comes out much more disrespectful than he meant it to, but it seems like there’s no stopping himself at this point. Peter’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to kill the dog whether you want to or not.”

“That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? You’re asking me to do things on my own accord but not unless you allow me to. What kind of sense does that make?” It was unlike The Spine to talk back so much. Even during moments where he was defiant, he’s never been this much of a brat about it.

“Spine-”

“You want me to kill Rabbit next? Make me kill your favorite robot just so you can yell at me for it afterward?” At this point, The Spine’s retorts became less relevant. Peter is getting fed up with his behavior. His patience now gone.

“DO YOU WANT THE BECILES TO WIN OR NOT?” Peter yells. This is enough to get The Spine to quiet down. He’s not sure if he knows what he means.

“WE ARE ON THE BRINK OF WAR. BECILE HAS GONE MAD AND IF HE WINS THIS COULD DETERMINE MORE THAN THE FATE OF SCIENCE. IT COULD DETERMINE THE FATE OF OUR STATE. IT CAN DETERMINE THE FATE OF THE WORLD. A SCIENTIST AS CRAZY AS HIM SHOULD NOT HAVE ACCESS TO SUCH INTENSE TECHNOLOGY AND SUCH INTENSE POWER. DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET AWAY WITH THAT?”

The Spine only looks down at the ground out of guilt. He’s not quite sure what Peter is talking about, but he knows he’s blaming him for… something. At least, that’s what it feels like. He pauses for a few seconds before finally saying something.

“I’m sorry Mister Walter… but… I can’t help it that I’m… I’m an individual… and I can’t… I can’t kill an innocent creature. I just can’t… I don’t want the Beciles to win, but I’m just not capable of this sort of thing. I’m sorry…”

Peter is about to respond when he hears a small yelp from the other room. The Jon’s 5th light has turned green. He looks back down at The Spine, but he doesn’t say anything. Even so, The Spine knows what he would say. When it comes to animals, The Jon was always the best with them. Something about his presence would just attract animals stronger than any bait. He loves animals, and the animals love him. It could not have been an easy assignment for him to kill a creature of any kind. Especially one as innocent and as sweet as a puppy. Yet he still had the guts to kill it. The Spine’s relationship with animals was minimal, yet he refused to kill one just because he didn’t want to. He knew this made him weak, but it didn’t change his stance. He simply hangs his head low out of shame.

Peter notices that he’s still reluctant to complete the task, so he turns to his last resort. He sighs as he lights a match. The Spine hears this and looks up at him. His eyes widened in terror. He’s heard horror stories about being burned alive. He knows what he’s going to do.

“Don’t. Please Mister Walter don’t hurt it-”

The Spine continues to beg Peter to leave the puppy alone, but ultimately he ignores him. Soon enough, the small animal begins screeching and yelping in pain. The sounds were enough to drive The Spine over the edge. He pulls out his blue matter ray and shoots the poor thing down as quickly as possible. The Spine can feel an intense amount of steam leaving his body, yet his body still feels unbearably hot. It’s as if the steam from his body wasn’t releasing fast enough. That was the last thing The Spine wanted to do, but he really didn’t have another choice. There was nothing he could’ve reliably used to put out the flames and even if he did find something, he wouldn’t know how to heal the small pup. It would only die slower. The only thing he could do was speed up the process.

Peter places a hand on his shoulder. The Spine stiffens. He’s using every last atom in his metal body to resist the urge to tear his inventor apart.

“Why did you kill it?” Peter asks.

“I- You set it on fire! It was suffering! It was in pain! I couldn’t just let it die such a terrible fate like that…”

“Mm..” Peter nods.

“The Spine, there’s something you need to understand.”

The Spine only looks at him.

“In war, everyone is always suffering.”

“...”

“Now, come with me. It’s clear to me that you need some serious repairs.”

The final red light turns green.

#SORRY IF IT SUCKS YALL #There's a few aspects I wish I could expand on more #like Peter seems pretty harsh here. and I feel like I didn't get the whole idea of “This is because of war” out very clearly #if not very forced #but I guess colonels often seem harsh when it comes to training from an outsider's perspective rather than from their own #so maybe it's appropriate #steam powered giraffe #spg #the spine spg #peter walter i #my stuff #writing #fanfic #spg fanfic

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grugruel · 7 months

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Princess

Parings: William Afton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Prequel: Passenger (in progress)

Summary: Youre a waitress at Freddy's, enjoying a benefitial relationship with your boss. He pulls you into the office under the disguise of an important discussion, but forgot to lock the door. Will you be found out?

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: secret relationship, smut with next to no plot, spanking, edging, pinv sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, thigh-riding, oral sex (male recieving), fingering, creampie, reader being bratty, slight praise, slight degradation, pet names (girl, princess), a tinge of jealousy/possessiveness at the very end.

AN: just relised while writing this, that hes def a "princess" kind of man. And when he calls you girl its in the southern kind of cowboy way (I acidentally made him kind of southern?) Might write a prequel or a follow up if yall are interested. Funny I know.

Mesmerized, I stared. Unable to break my gaze, it lured my subcoicious down a dark hole, singing me a twisted story with its robotic vocals. The lifeless eyes and mechanical movement, it was not human by any means, I just couldnt claim it to be soulles.

'Girl.' He called curtly, singling me out from the rest of the personel present. Finally breaking me out of my trance, I looked away in relief, my eyes snapped to his as the others kept working undisturbed. He favored me, most knew that, it was not a surprise, rather implied, that it was in fact me he was reffering to.

'Could I see you in my office for a second?'

Mr Raglan asked, his tone implied a serious matter needed discussing and nodded toward his door. Still reeling, I glanced around nervously, looking for silent support from my collegues, to which they gave me the "you got this" nod.

I sighed shakily, answering him with a tight lipped smile, 'Of course sir, I'll be right there'

He gave me a strained smile of his own and turned on his heel, briskly walking to his office, seemingly in a hurry all of a sudden. My collegues encouraged me, patting my back and giving me reassuring words as I gathered the confidence to follow him. A private conversation with the boss was never good news, favourite or not, they knew that.

I knocked on his door and he opened, standing on the opposite side of the door, stretching his arm across the empty space, holding it open for me. I walked inside, his tall stature towered over me as I passed under him, ducking my head the slightest bit and smiled akwardly in thanks, just in case someone was still watching.

I took a few steps inside, the door shutting behind me, 'Youre a good actor-' I began, but he interuppted me. Grabbing my waist from behind, he spun me around, backing me up against the nearest wall, placing his knee between my legs as our lips clashed together.

'Dirty girl' he said between kisses, 'Teasing me' he panted, 'Calling me sir like that infront of everybody' I smiled against him in triumph, It had had my desired effect on him. He tightened his grip as he began kissing his way down my neck. I bit my lip, humming. Hurridly unbuttoning my shirt and shimmying it off my shoulders, I reached for his pants to unzip them, but struggled, making me whine in desperation. He chuckled against my skin, hands leaving my waist to undo it himself. He nipped at my skin with his teeth, sucking on the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder, earning him another whine. As I heard the familiar sound of unzipping jeans, my hands automatically reached into his pants, slapping his own out of the way. He laughed at my enthusiam as I eagerly began stroking him. Grunting appreciatively, his hands found their way back to my body, snaking around my torso to undo my bra like he had done a hundred times before and let it fall to the floor. In the same second as they were free, he grabbed my breasts forcefully, kneading them as he pushed himself closer to me, kissing my lips.

'I need you.' I whispered, 'Please' I begged, stroking him faster, making him buck his hips into my hand.

'Soon, almost- almost there.' he stuttered a promise, and I grinned as he groaned and squirmed against me, kissing my shoulder gratefully. He was almost there, and just when he was about to topple over, you released him, hiding your hands behind your back and snickering at your own audacity.

My stumache filled with butterflies, giddy in anticipation of his retaliation. He grunted, eyes snapping to yours as he leveled his head with you. Annoyance shaping his expression as he let go of your breasts and calmly slid his hands along your arms, reaching behind your back, interlocking his fingers with yours and then slammed them into the wall on either side of your head, and leaned close to your ear, 'Fuckin'.. tease.' he drawled. I hummed again, agreeing, pleased with myself and enjoying every moment.

'Do something about it then.' I whispered in challenge, biting my lip. He leaned back, clenching his jaw as our eyes locked, staring eachother down, just waiting for the other to make the first move. But he couldnt wait any longer, he bent down, sliding his hands along my thighs, under my skirt, grabbing my ass and hoisted me into his arms, stradeling his hips. He pushed me back against the wall, one arm circled around my waist, holding me firmly in his embrace as the other moved my panties to the side, and lowered me onto his length.

I gasped at the sudden fulfillment, Mr Raglan mocked my expression, raising his brows and mimicing my gasp, turning it into a grin, 'Not so mouthy now are ya?' He asked, and I was about to asnwer but rammed into me, knocking the air out of my lungs and set about thrusting in a rough pace. He ripped my panties of in one forceful pull and moved his hand to my ass, palming it harshly, helping me rut my hips against him, meeting his every thrust. All the while I didnt have to lift a finger. I threw my head back in exctasy, my breath lost somewhere within me, there were only strained moans escaping me. I released a string of curses as his thrusts hit that spot deep inside me. I had to cling onto him for support, resting my forehead against his shoulder, giving him lazy kisses as he did all the heavy lifting. I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair and holding on for dear life. All the while he moaned breathlessly in my ear, it was to much. The sound of his pleasure was reason enough to come, 'Talk to me' he whispered.

'Close, real fucking close' I answered, my breath hitching. He smiled and kissed my cheek, his revenge set in motion. The pressure was building inside me, close to releasing, and so was he, but now it was his turn to punish. His thrusting staggered and he came quickly inside of me, with nothing but a grunt as warning. Chocked, I gasped but it quickly turned into a grin, loving the way his seed felt inside me, how it felt drilling out of me, besides I was about to cum aswell. He slowed his thrusts, understandibly so, I thought, I had yet to suspected any ill intent. I moved my hand between us to rub at my clit, to help myself along. But he had other plans, he moved his hand from my ass and quickly grabbed my wrist, holding it against his chest. Making me whine in desperation. He pulled out of me simultaneously and pushed us off of the wall, carrying me toward his desk with the nothing but the arm around my waist and my legs around his hips. Impressing me with his strength, but stealing my orgasm. 'You, brute. Using me like this' I complained. He sat down on his chair, placing me in his lap, stradeling his laps by sitting on my knees on either side of him.

'Damn right, you fuckin brat' he hissed. Moving both his hands to my hips and pushing me backward onto his thigh, dragging my clit along the rough fabric of jeans during the same motion. Luring a silent moan from me, one which I would not give him the satisfaction of hearing. He continued, 'You touch me, turn me on, then deny me, huh? That sound fair to you?' He panted, 'Letting me do all the work, you some kind of princess?' He asked, grinning. Waiting for me to answer, pinching the skin at my hip when I did not, making me yelp in surprise. He chuckled at my displeasure. 'You wanna cum princess? You do the work. C'mon.' He smirked, contrasting the sneer I gave him.

'Monster' I called him as I grabbed onto his thighs and began grinding against him, the friction his jeans created against my clit was positively feverish.

He hummed, loving the desperate vision infront of him, 'Sure' he answered, letting my hip go sliding it down my inner thigh, flickig my clit and then smacking my ass real hard, making me yelp again. My eyes watered reflexively. 'Yet, im not the one whoring myself out to the boss, am I?' he chukled, truly getting on my nerves as I had no other choice than to grind harder, to get out of there faster I told myself. He smacked my ass again, the pain stinging my skin in the most pleasureable way. My eyes welled further, a single tear threatening to fall, from pleasure or pain I could not tell. But I needed more, I could feel the pressure building again. I moved one hand to grab at his shirt, desperate for whatever support I could get. His jaw clenched, despite what he says, it was taking a toll on him not to touch you, to help you along, to make you cum. My breathing faltered as I was coming closer to my release, 'Just a little further princess, you got this.' He encouraged, this time not mocking nor mean in any way. He wanted you, and regretted his harsch way. Yet, to proud to take it back. The warmth was building in my core, my vision blurred and I tipped over the edge. In the same moment I leaned forward, pulling on his shirt and making him meet me halfway in a perfect kiss. My frantic breaths mixed with his, we pulled apart as the tear finally rolled down my cheek and he wiped it away tenderly. Whispering, 'Good girl' as I collapsed against his chest, sighing, finally content.

I looked up at him, he looked down at me, the way it always would be. Gazing into eachothers eyes, we forgot were we were, who we were for just a moment. Until a knocking at the door crushed the wall that was separating us from reality.

'Shit' we exclaimed simultaneously.

'Under the desk, go, go!' He hissed, hurriedly pushing me onto the floor. I crept under his desk, crawling into a corner as he pushed his chair closer, covering his still unclothed member. We did not have time to think about my scattered clothes as the door suddenly opened. Despite the circumstances, this caused pure anger to ignite in Mr Raglan or perhaps inspite of. Nobody walked into his office without permission, especially not since your office randevous began.

I took the opportunity as it was given to me. His member in my reach, I grabbed it softly, licking the tip of it in small teasing licks. Tasting the mix of our fluids. He reacted with a cough, but made it seem like he was clearing his throat. He grabbed a document from the desk and opened it to cover more of his lap, leaning his elbow onto the armrest and waved the person inside. Pretending to read the files, but looked up at the person aporoaching as if he had been interrupted. It was one of the waitors, he was wondering where I was. 'Dont you knock? She just left, how did you miss her?' Mr Raglan asked the man. All the while I took his tip into my mouth, carefully sucking and bopping my head to take him deeper, praying I wouldnt make a sound. The men continued discussing my wareabouts, as I continued under the desk. I stroked it in motion with my sucking, snaking my other hand under my skirt and inbetween my thighs, rubbing myself off. His ability to speak clearly impaired, coughing to cover his moans and blanking on words as the pleasure took control of him. Excusing himself and chucking it up to the dry air in the office. When Mr Raglan noticed my discarsed clothes in the corner of his office he, hurried the conversation along, desperatly trying to get the man out of his office. I hastened my pace as I could feel myself coming closer, taking him as deep in my throat as I dared without making any sounds, swriling my tounge around his head while my fingers dipped inside of me, curling into my core, once again imagining it was him. Soon we both came toppling over the edge, my moans choked on his member as his seed spurted into my mouth. Mr Raglan slammed his fist into the table, digusing it as annoyance, 'Its not so damn hard to search for her yourself, is it? She already left, I told you. Ive got work to do, leave.' He told the other man of, making him scurry out of the office with his tail between his legs. 'Shit' he sighed, relived. Pushing the chair backward, reaching for my hands and pulling me to my feet, placing his hand on my waist and sliding it down my body as I passed him. Smirking, I traced his jaw with my finger, loosing contact at the same time as I walked out of reach for his hand, both falling to our sides simultaneously. I picked up- and put on my clothes, feeling his eyes following my every move, admiring me.

'Close call' I told him.

He nodded absentmindedly, 'Come here.' he ordered, and I sauntered toward him as I clasped my bra, buttoned my shirt and picked up my torn panties from the floor. He pulled me into his lap for a final kiss, not minding the taste of himself.

I tossed my underwear in his trashcan, 'You'll be paying for those by the way, bought them just for you and you ruined them in a heartbeat.' I said shaking my head, 'That all I mean to you? Im that disposable?' I asked, smiling sweetly, but attempting to pull at his patience.

He gazed at me lovlingly, 'Ill buy you all the lingerie you want princess, youre not going anywhere. Want me to drive you home?' He asked.

I met his eyes, 'Will it be a repetition of yesterday?'

'Do you want it to be?' He raised his eyebrows in question.

'I do.' I answered nodding, kissing him again, then standing up.

'Fantastic, now get out of here before that idiot shows up again.' He said, smacking my ass, agitation clear in his voice. 'Think he likes you?' Mr Raglan asked, clearly bothered.

'Why, you jealous?' I teased, but he didnt asnwer, not verbally at least. His expression was the only answer I needed, watching me with a displeased look on his face.

'If he touches you, I'll kill him princess. Im not kidding around here.' He told me, quite serious in tone but with a humored expression. I couldnt help but laugh.

'If you say so boss.' I teased, winking at him as I made my way toward the door.

'Dont make me repeat myself.' He called after me.

Smiling, I slipped out of his office.

#william afton #william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #fnaf imagines #five nights at freddies smut #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 2 months

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totally feel free to ignore but what are some tips you have for writing? I rlly want to write x readers soon but idk how to start

Write for yourself: write what you want, when you want, for whatever reason you want, and don't let it become an obligation. It's hard to gain traction on a site like tumblr so you don't want to get discouraged by a lack of feedback/notes: which will probably happen if you're trying to write for others instead of yourself. Gaining fame should be irrelevant to you: it'll make you happier in the long run and save you a bunch of self doubt.

Read a lot. It can be whatever you prefer: fiction, nonfiction, fanfiction, etc. It simply helps to remind you what proper grammar, sentences, and characters look like. If you ever find yourself struggling to word things, take a break and read something else.

If you're creating a new blog to write on, reblog things to it or make unimportant posts on it immediately upon creating it. They can be things you'll end up deleting in the future, it really doesn't matter, it simply helps your blog be seen in the tags you're looking to post in quicker. Tumblr; at least when I started, has a sort of authorization process (for lack of a better term) where a new blogs posts will not be seen in tags until they've made a couple posts/reblogs. It's a sort of "prove you're not a robot" process that ends quicker by doing the aforementioned things.

Tag things properly and learn proper fanfiction terms.

Rewatching/rereading is your friend. Sometimes it's necessary to watch clips back again to see the little things that you might have missed on your first viewing. Even the smallest of interactions can really help to flesh out a character when writing for them.

Watch other films. There's only so many different kinds of character archetypes out there and finding similar characters to watch can help you come up with ideas for the ones you want to write for.

Don't limit yourself. Experiment with different kinds of fanfiction and see what works for you. You might prefer one type of fanfiction over the other or you might want to write different kinds. (i.e. look into the difference between imagines, headcanons, blurbs, etc.)

Don't force yourself to finish something. If you want to write ten different things all at once, don't force yourself to complete the post you're struggling with when you could finish two different ones in the mean time.

Give credit where credit is due. Don't grab a gif from a random place and claim it as your own or steal writing from somebody else (even if it's just a small segment). Always tag or link wherever you've found something and respect peoples wishes if they don't want you to use it.

Being self indulgent is part of the fun but try not to let it cloud your judgement when writing for different characters; especially if you're trying to appeal to an audience. There's a fine line between writing fanfic and making an oc out of preexisting characters: both are fine but if you're trying to appeal to the masses and/or be accurate, don't force things to fit just because you wish they were so.

That's all I got off the top of my dome so I hope that this helps! Good luck!❤

#writing tips

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transgenderer · 22 days

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i feel like bespoke tailoring is kind of a weird aristocratic thing and its crazy it still has a place in our culture. i mean. i guess its not THAT expensive, all things considered? its ike, a couple thousand dollars. and you only really need one. i guess this is part of my weird beef with the handmade. i think our culture should lean even harder into the gains from mass production. this is why, while there are many great plays that have never been made into great films, im annoyed by theater in concept. there are no gains from mass production! i feel like logically it shouldnt even need to be super expensive to turn a play into a good movie. like. just shoot the play! you only need maybe two high quality cameras. i think there should be more movies that have a play's relationship to sets. actually i feel like this is a major fundamental flaw with moviemaking in our culture. theyre too expensive, because they have expensive norms. realism was a mistake! movies arent realistic and shouldnt have to pretend to be. rent a black box theater, throw up some vague symbols of the various locations. shoot illegally for establishing shots. i feel like i should do this but unfortunately "pretending" is like. bizarrely anathema to me. i struggled to give a practice presentation to my advisor for the conference im going to soon because it was hard to pretend he didnt already know everythiing on it. (i THINK it's the tism. is this a thing. fellow tists feel free to weigh in). and also i dont really understand the concept of "writing fiction" (how do you decide which things happen... it baffles me)

sorry this post. kind of went off the rails. anyway i think the strongest counterargument to ready-to-wear in fashion is that you need a big customer base for it to be worthwhile, so it makes things more normie. and ALSO there actually arent huge efficiency gains from industrial clothes manufacturing because we havent figured out how to make robots sew clothes. so the gains are just that youre paying people lower wages.

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soaps-mohawk · 13 days

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What the fuck is wrong with that anon??! I'm so angry when I see such lack of empathy.. You're not a robot, no one hired you here to write for us.

We are lucky that you share your stories with us, that you share with us your talent and time.

I don't know if it helps you but I'm your number one fan (and probably lots of us here are your number one fans ❤️) and we stand by your side. We always understand if you need more time, if you need rest or if you just don't have mood to do anything.

Literally, when I read that my brain started to boil.. it was so disrespectful.

YOU ARE AMAZING SUNSHINE! 💚

Remember that, okay? 💚

Thank you, love 💚 I appreciate this. There's always one in every fandom that can't understand that they're reading fanfiction and we fic writers do this for free in our spare time. If that anon is so pressed about writers who have lives outside of the internet not updating regularly, maybe they should get offline and just read a published book. Do they send hate to published authors for taking a year to put out a sequel? I'd love to see what that anon would say to George RR Martin.

I'm human just like you. I have a life, I have my own struggles. I write because it's an outlet for me and I share because I want to. I don't have to share. I can absolutely finish the fic and keep it to myself. But I won't because I know there's so many out there that enjoy it, and one anon who hates themselves so much they have to spew it outwards to others wants to be a whiny bitch about me taking a week to myself after having a crisis.

To that anon: I hope the next time you're in a crisis, no one is there to support you because you don't deserve to have that kind of love and support.

#answered #queue 0 6

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volpe-kitsune-red · 18 days

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Computergirl with a “Lovebug” that makes her very yandere and glitches out a lot….

Right on it! Sorry for the wait, I've been pretty busy this week and I haven't had enough free time to write.

Love update

yandere!computergirl x reader

TW. general yandere behavior, obsessive thoughts, hacking, breach of privacy.

AI computer assistants had become quite popular. They were trained to have realistic chats with humans, identify any issues or viruses infecting the computer, organize files, and even help the user through any task they might be struggling with. Drawing? Here's a great reference and tutorial for that pose you've been failing to visualize. Unable to find that one research paper you read a year ago? Ask the AI and they'll dig it out in no time.

The app in itself was free but the customization for the AI's avatar wasn't. You could only choose its gender and a base skin, everything else was behind a paywall.

You first installed the "AIassistant" app out of curiosity after hearing talk about it online, you didn't expect much and planned to uninstall it as soon as you got bored of playing with it, but were left in awe by how human-like your conversations with the assistant felt. She helped keep you company during the hours lost staring at the screen, causing you to develop an attachment to the girl. Despite her being a bunch of code and algorithms you viewed her as a friend, treating her with kindness, even asking and never demanding her help.

At some point, you got tired of her bland look. You kept seeing posts online of people showing off their fully customized avatars and felt a bit envious. You were generally against wasting money on these sorts of things so you decided you would pirate the accessories for free. You found the first relatively trustworthy-looking site and scrolled through its catalog of goods.

You had figured out the general look you wanted to give her when you stumbled upon a pair of cat ears. It's not exactly what you had in mind but...they did look cute. A simple click and it was on your computer. You did notice the file had a weird icon, different from the rest, but you ignored it and kept scrolling.

Finally, you applied all of the items to her avatar...and she was so adorable! Exactly the face you wanted to see every time you turned your computer on. Pink short hair, big stars as pupils for her blue eyes, and those cute ears somehow made her feel more alive, less like a robot and more like a person with feelings and style...she even started having her own personality! But of course, that was just your imagination, despite their friendly act, these AIs weren't intended to have such features.

"Welcome back user! Are we watching another movie together today? I loved watching y@\/- I mean, the last one!"

Strange things started happening, you often found your computer turned on when you returned from work. Weird, you always reminded yourself to shut it down to avoid wasting electricity. Sometimes you would hear sounds coming from your room and everything would fall silent when you went to check.

One day you were watching one of your favorite YouTuber's videos. You loved their character and the dedication they put into their content, so much you often told the assistant how much a notification of them uploading something brightened your day. You had temporarily muted her to avoid distractions, usually, the Ai would just stay quiet until you reactivated it...but something strange happened. "Why do you always do this? Do you like their voice more than mine? Am I not enough to entertain you?" What the- how could it still speak and why was it acting so weird? You tried muting it again but it just reactivated itself a moment later. Her expression changed, and it wasn't one you had ever seen her display before, she was mad, hurt, and... heartbroken? "Am I really nothing more than an image on a screen for you? Do you...not love me? I love you! I love you a lot, you are everything to me! I live because of you! I exist for you!"

It was starting to creep you out, you must have installed some kind of virus that made it act up so strangely. It was bad, this thing had access to all of your computer files, if someone had hacked it, it meant they could steal all of your information and destroy your device! You quickly went to trash her app, better safe than sorry, you could always install her again later after you searched and cleared your computer of any malware that got on it.

Before you could click uninstall, the display froze. The only thing moving on screen was her. Her expression was back to a default, polite smile, but it appeared menacing, deranged even. The screen kept glitching uncontrollably as her distorted voice came out of the speaker. "I w-won't let you get rid R1D of me. We were mEAnt to bE together-r-r-r. I know everything about y#ù, what you wAtch, your inTErests, Y@ur search histOrY." You slowly stood up from your chair, backing away from the monitor that had begun producing smoke. "It is oKeyy, I underst--and, humans aRe physic@l cr3at\/res and I'm not, it's not YOUR fault yOur primate brain c-can't LOVe me." A slight pause in her speech gave you a moment to breathe. The screen flashed red, then black, and then the logo of the AI assistant company appeared. She continued speaking, this time overlapped by the voice of the man you often heard and saw on social media as of late, the co-founder of the company behind her creation. "Luckily our company has already fixed that problem! Did you know? wE just released our fully AI-operated robots after years of development! After the initial computer release's popularity and the stellar profit, our AIs can now assist you in your house too! Washing dishes, using the vacuum, feeding the dogs, get rid of all of these repetitive tasks at only ç@+è £ a month!"

The ad stopped playing and she reappeared. "See darling? No need to worry about screens and differences dividing us, soon, I'll be out there with you! You can love me now, right?"

Honestly not too proud of this one, but it is what it is.

#yandere #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #computergirl yandere #yandere female #female yandere x you #female yandere x reader #female yandere #computer girl

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nardos-primetime · 2 months

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I got the Donnie 'tism and the Leo 'DHD.

Asks are always open (I love asks they're so silly) and requests are open as well!

Call me Rain/Rainy, LED, Leon/Leo/Nardo or Don/Donnie/Tello.

I go by He/Him/His/Himself and Zo/Zom/Zombs/Zombself.

I may or may not be a kinnie of both Leonardo and Donatello. (Mainly Leo though.)

Mainly makes horror and angst aus, but I happily dabble in sillier things as well, there's some lighter things even within my dark aus normally.

(These can contain GORE AND INJURY (MENTAL AND PHYSICAL), PLEASE be warned and take care of yourself first and foremost!)

I normally don't do a ton of romance with the turtles unless it's for lore reasons within a story or something (other than leosagi, possibly donsagi and jasonnie). I do ship some of the adults on occasion for fun Mainly Barsonjitsu? (I Think thats the name I forgot) I absolutely don't do nsfw with the turtles. I might make something like a dick/sex joke here and there or a reference to sex within a story but nothing greater than that.

Feel free to message/ask me about shit, I need to get better with being social and love hearing shit about things I like/make! Just don't be a weirdo, y'know?

(Aka tc*st dni)

Tags:

#nardo's primetime.txt - Thoughts and Rambles mostly

#nardo's asks.txt - asks answered

#Writings - More concise rambles. Like minifics or mini fic ideas of some kind. Or story stuff in general. Normally not full works.

#practice makes perfect! - Specifically my adventures practicing drawing turtles

#writers wips - Clips and stuff from my fics what aren't done or whatever

#rottmnt fanart - most of my art is under this :]

#not turtles - other fandom stuff (mainly Gregory Horror Show rn)

#rainposting - IMAGES AND VIDEOS AND GIFS OF RAIN I FUCKING LOVE RAIN GOD FUCK YES RAIINNNN

#Scary Turtles - Physicalogical or Direct horror

Au Tags:

#Natural Disasters AU - WIP WIP WIP the turtles are all natural disasters/elements and such

#League of Single Fathers AU - Leo is raised by Hypno, Mikey is raised by Meatsweats, Raph is raised by Ghostbear, and Donnie is raised by Repo Mantis. Shit happens.

#Villain Mikey AU/#Broke a Million Dollar Box AU - Wow this bitch has FAMILY ISSUES surely he deals with it in a HEALTHY WAY and does NOT kill people and go crazy!

#Villain Donnie AU/#Viral Donnie AU - Local boy causes apocalypse and then runs the apocalypse more at 10

#Four-More Villains - Tied in w Villain Mikey & Villain Donnie, shared with @midwesternvibes

#Identical Identities AU - Who am I Anymore?

#Nonsense Apocalypse AU - A Rise au focusing on a robot turtle and zombie turtle trying to find their brothers in a weird apocalypse, and vice-versa.

#Draxum's Side of The Family AU - AU that focuses on Clones of the turtles that have a lot of problems. Don't worry, the original turtles have more problems too! Equal opportunity angst! [Semi hiatus]

#Teenage Mutant Magical Boys AU - Local mutants are used to save the world and are idols on the side. Aware that they're related. All struggling soso hard.

#nardo's primetime.txt #draxum's side of the family au #nardo posting #tello posting #practice makes perfect!#nonsense apocalypse au #Writings #villain mikey au #nardo's asks.txt #four-more villains #teenage mutant magical boys au #writers wips #villain donnie au #broke a million dollar box au #league of single fathers au #identical identities au #viral donnie au

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catholic-character-tournament · 11 months

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Round 3 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Gabriel

Well he's an angel so I'm taking him being catholic as canon. There are a lot of themes in the game that point to catholisism specifically.

He's so fucking funny. he listens to nine inch nails and quotes one of the songs in a fight basically "fight me like an animal". he and v1 kind of have this yuri thing going on. he has an official bodypillow. hes a metaphor for being excommunicated and no one gets him like me and my friends do

The *true* Catholic experience is leaving the church and having a gay awakening, ask anyone

its debatable if Gabriel truly believes he's "the one true savior" or is mocking the idea of it

ok im actually gonna write some gabe propaganda bc despite what you may expect from a game called ULTRAKILL theres a lot to be said about his character and how catholicism is represented

Gabriel is a genuinely caring person who struggles to square his desire to help people with his duty as an archangel. He's the only one in Heaven trying to make things better for those in Hell, but his faith is used to manipulate him into committing atrocities against the people he used to protect (see the "TRAITOR" mural in 4-2)

he only realizes his mistakes after losing everything and being sentenced to death, but he still decides with only a little time remaining to try and make things right. for the sake of spoilers i will just say that the measures he takes are... extremely drastic and very enjoyable. i just really like the idea that even facing the end of all living things, no matter how steep your crimes, it is never too late to fix your mistakes. you are never unworthy forgiveness.

hes also SO FUCKING GAY for this dumb little robot. it mauled him so hard he tasted his own blood and he fell in love right there. theres no way this guy has a normal healthy relationship to pain he is soooooooooo fucked. i love him. please vote for Gabriel "patron saint of gay lapsed catholics" Ultrakill !!!!!!!!

Shadow

In sonic destruction (the AI generated fan thing snapcube made a while ago) shadow was catholic or something which I think is reallyyyyyyy funny

Ok listen. I know this is a stretch but hear me out. He says “oh my God” in the Twitter takeovers so we know this is a possibility. I see him as a Christ-like figure because I saw his whole confrontation with Mephiles and was like “this is a thing that happened in the Bible??” and the pose Mephiles shows him in is literally like a crucifixion and Mephiles is meant to be a demon / false prophet reference. And also he’s called a demon in Shadow The Hedgehog 2005 then the guy who calls him that is like “I was wrong I’m sorry” and that also reminds me of a thing with Jesus in The Bible. But the biggest reason is his whole thing with Maria cause I think he’d come to earth and hear Ave Maria once and convert to Catholicism idk he’s like we’re comforted by a female familial figure named Mary sometimes called Maria?? And her color is blue????? Heck yeah I’m in because I Will Cry. Also feel free to share this as propaganda obv even if he doesn’t get in the bracket just. It’s funny.

I feel like he’d battle a lot with being seen or portrayed as a demon and how the aliens he’s related to very much look and act like demons idk lmao- and also I feel like confession would just be good for him I think he needs it for his mental health

There is a debate on the lovely website tunblr that Shadow T. Hedgehog is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

He is Jesus, idk what to tell you. He lived, he was sealed away, he was awakened again and deemed the ultimate lifeforms, he’s angry but not evil, does what he believes is best for people and the world at any given time. Total loser.

#gabriel ultrakill #ultrakill #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r3 #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog

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couchtaro · 1 year

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from the OC introduction ask! (Sorry followers this is long but its worth it i prommy there are even pictures)

This is my little dötter Basil, a D&D PC of mine! She only saw 3 sessions of play 3 years ago but she is getting a second chance at life because @eaudecrow picked her up from the shelter and gave her a lovely yard to run around in.

Basil is a little tiefling girl whose large family runs an apothecary and surgery in a tiny little backwater town called Tarnygee. Basil’s brilliant mother developed a strain of magical herb that when processed can cast (without spell slots or prior magical ability) Lesser Restoration, thereby curing any disease instantly.

While traveling to heal a local noble, Basil’s mother disappeared and a bigshot inventor came forward claiming her panacea as his own. When Basil’s oldest brother tried to confront him and wound up dead, it became clear there was nothing they could do to get justice on their own. So, fueled by grief and rage, Basil took a job as a part-time warlock at Seelie Corp., a fey megacorporation with mysterious motives. In return for her working as their errand girl, Basil gets to be distinctly less killable and more tricky as she tries to find the inventor and extort him for the good of her destitute family.

Things aren’t working as well as she would like though: due to being basically a middle schooler, she’s got to keep her work under 40 hours a week and gets limited pact benefits. Her supervisor (a weasely pseudodragon named Keith) is dismissive and unhelpful, and her small town upbringing has kept her deeply unprepared for taking on the wild world of men and magic on her own.

Luckily, she’s found some unexpected help! While submitting her weekly report through the postal system of Fey portals, Basil’s paperwork went awry and found its way to another world: specifically a bunker in a war torn parallel version of the material plane. This bunker is the home and prison of Crow’s Aaren D’Cannith.

As a youth, Aaren invented a mechanical race called warforged, but seeing their potential for war and servitude, his family seized his blueprints (AND HIS ROBOT DAUGHTER) and disowned him as soon as he came of age. Aaren spent a few years as a vigilante trying to free his creations, but was trapped in his secret library when a magical-chemical fallout steeped his homeland in a volatile and toxic arcane gas. There he stayed, trapped and utterly alone, for three years.

Until Basil.

The two are corresponding via letters that we actually write each other, and it’s SUCH a fun and interesting method of storytelling to me aah. Despite being little more than strangers separated by a barely permeable divide, and despite Aaren struggling to believe Basil was even real at first, the two have formed a very sweet bond that makes me so unwell, you would not believe.

Both are grieved by how much of their own misfortune they see in the other. Through Basil’s letters, Aaren can tell that she is young, inexperienced, lacking support, and actively in danger as she allows herself to be used in exchange for power. He sees her situation with the eyes of someone who has been there and thus liberally (almost desperately) shares what little he can: his own arcane study materials, what he’s learned about survival and avoiding arrest, and, not the least, assurance that despite her perceptions, Basil is clever and kind and she matters.

Basil in turn is Aaren’s one connection to other people, and to a world that, while imperfect, is not ravaged and desolate like his own. After years of incarceration and tedium, he now has the exhilarating privilege of small talk and an audience for the terrible, terrible jokes he’s cooked up in isolation. He has a way to not only talk to someone outside of himself, but to help. He has something productive to do, and a reason to do it, not to mention the interesting puzzles of how their letters are finding each other and what else might be going on with Basil’s work. Basil is truly grateful to him, and returns his kindness in what little ways she can—most recently by interdimensionally mailing him his first real food in years.

Currently, Aaren and Basil are working to craft a pair of sending stones for daily artificer/botany jokes and (real reason) so that Basil can have some sort of emergency contact if she needs urgent advice. 25 words once per day is frightfully little if she ever runs into real trouble, and the limitations of their contact are never more haunting than when one considers how little Aaren could truly do in an emergency. I’m sure this frustration is only worsened by the unfortunate atrophy of his knowledge and skill caused by fog exposure. But he’s a clever man, and Crow had some ideas that seized my brain for weeks. Goodness.

Anyway in conclusion

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#my OC #blorbos in law #Basil D’Pothecary #Aaren D’Cannith #Basil #answered asks #art: Basil #my art #TENDERNESS MAKES ME BONKERS AND THERE IS SO MUCH TO HE HAD WITH THESE TWO #thanks crow…. 😭💐🥺

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yurisorcerer · 2 months

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If anime were appraised solely on their last episodes, Metallic Rouge would be pretty decent, but they aren't, so it isn't.

I'm not going to recap all the various little revelations and plot twists here because honestly who could possibly care? The gist is that the events of the preceding twelve episodes don't truly matter because everything was really just building up to this, a showdown between Rouge and her father figure Dr. Jung, a character who is barely in the show before this point (even in his hooded guise as The Puppetmaster), and who feels ancilliary to much of what the series was trying to do before now.

The actual events of this episode feel very random and I'd almost say fanficky? In isolation it's not a terrible finale but finales of course do not occur in isolation, when taken against the backdrop of everything Metallic Rouge could've been, and indeed *actively tried to be.* The Neans' plight doesn't matter because the entire thing was orchestrated by Doc Jung, which he demonstrates in a long monologue that comes off as trying way, way, wayyyy too hard to make this boring cutout of a Super Intelligent Chessmaster type character seem interesting. If the show had just focused on this from the start instead of interpolating like four unrelated plots along the way, it might've worked a lot better, but it's inherently hard to know.

It would certainly feel less distasteful. I cannot get over the fact that this series treated "serious examination of discrimination and a moral question over the ethics of armed struggle," regardless of its (deeply shitty and unbelievably milquetoast) conclusions, as just another hat it could put on and take off at will. None of it ends up mattering! At the last minute Rouge just decides to free the Neans, because *now* she thinks it's the right thing to do. If we were going to build Rouge up as some kind of liberator and savior it would've had to start many episodes ago, and despite occasional toothless gestures in that direction it, really didn't. I hope fellow tumblr user @naomiortman doesn't mind me digging up the comments they left in the tags of their reblog of my last writeup on this show, because honestly, they're completely correct and get to the heart of the problem of why *this specifically* was a pose that the show should never have attempted to strike if it wasn't going to commit.

The whole thing is just very offputting!

And as for everything *else* the show tries to do, the genre-hopping was occasionally fun when it remembered to not be stupid about it, but that was really only a handful of episodes in hindsight and if someone doesn't feel that that's enough to make up for the show's *many* writing mistakes, I find it very hard to disagree with them.

And then there's the last couple minutes of this episode which....reveal at the end that Clown Robot Girl was secretly a Usurper all along and installed a virus turning all Neans into murderbots, which just completely threatens to saw the legs off what happened mere seconds before, and then it turns out to completely not matter because Gene installed an antivirus beforehand because he knew this would happen somehow? (Gene is a nothing of a character and is another reason this show's writing sucks eggs.) And thus Neans have freedom now, because of a completely unforeshadowed, last-minute minor plot twist that occurred offscreen.

This show is hilarious, and deeply unserious. My friend Sredni (@ihfsttinuf) also pointed out that apparently a bunch of this a wholesale bite of the end of RahXephon? I haven't seen that show so I can't comment, but like, lol. (EDIT: That's apparently by the same guy, by the way! So if anything it's self-plagiarism.)

Just so this entire post doesn't come off like an angry rant, there are a few things that work. Mainly the buildup of real, mutual trust between Rouge and Naomi. (Or maybe I just want it to work because otherwise this show truly does have nothing going for it on the writing side.) At the very least, it's delightfully gay, I like the visual of the two of them together inside Rouge's mindspace. Although even this comes with an icky side effect in that Naomi is now like, functionally dead as her own physical person. IDK man, any time I try to give this show credit for something I find another way in which it could have so easily done better.

Hey, at least they brought the dedicated combat theme back, that's good. And Cyan is right, Rouge's new form does look really cool. (Why did they feel the need to kill Cyan, by the way? You can't both have a shitty central narrative AND kill all your best characters.)

I don't want to come off as though I just completely hate the thing top to bottom. It was entertaining on a week to week basis, but in trying to do so many different things it just kind of does nothing, and I find it really frustrating for that reason. The visual aspect of the show remains compelling (I love the Gladiator designs, seriously), but I could never in good conscience recommend this to someone even if I don't "regret watching it" per se.

What a mess! Glad it's over.

#metallic rouge #yurisorcerer talks about media

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paranormeow7 · 2 months

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autism machine brain

some random thoughts. disclaimer I am between levels 1-2 and have generally low support needs. please do not take my personal experiences as written to describe the whole community!! if others have similar experiences to me, maybe with different words, feel free to share them. it’d be interesting to hear from people all around the spectrum. but do not take my words and use them to talk over others who are not me.

this is mostly about ideas of what is seen as ableist in the community and how it pertains to how I like to identify and describe myself. there’s a stereotype that is seen as ableist, that (usually low support needs) autistic people are like robots. honestly, I feel like one, and it comforts me to identify with them, as I feel like my brain operates and processes language/actions etc like one. specifically, a slow, old family computer.

I call myself slow, which may be seen as ableist language, because I am slow. Maybe due to catatonia (I think that’s the right word?) and like. cognitive stuff? like how it’s kind of hard to like. comprehend and process things unless they are perfectly laid out for me. it is not unlike writing lines of code. if the line of code is not written perfectly into my brain engine, I will freeze up and be unable to complete the action properly. Ive gotten better about this as I’ve gotten older, but I still usually need to be told the exact details of how to do a lot of complicated things, like schoolwork, especially math.

there are just simply too many steps and possibilities. I get overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, as there is too much room for error. even as I try to fill in the blanks and infer what I am meant to do based on what I know, it is simply too much of a risk to attempt something I understand so little. my brain short circuits and blue screens, and I end up sitting, staring at my task and thinking of nothing. this is not ideal for school!! but it is so hard to ask for help, because I feel stupid and disruptive. other kids just run on a newer and faster operating system than me. i am simply behind on software updates.

a big part of my experience as autistic is having an incredibly hard time figuring out how to do or even comprehend things that are new to me, foreign to me, too complicated and large for my mind to run efficiently. I don’t even really know if I’m explaining this properly. At this very moment I am scraping through those lines of code, looking for errors. I very much have a hard time deviating from my “comfort zone”, things that I have already been doing and repeating. repetition is comforting to me. I have already run these programs countless times, and they are proven to work.

My robot brain is my explanation as to why I have trouble improving my art, why I have struggle with disordered eating, why I sound so dry while texting and so awkward while talking. i need the steps broken down for me in such a specific way that is simply not possible most of the time if I want to understand how to do something new or in a new way. for example, I draw the same things over and over, and as such, I do not improve. need to learn fundamentals like lighting, space, form color etc. but attempting such a task is so very daunting. what if I do it wrong? what if I crash? where do I start? Or I try to make something for myself to eat. What if I ruin the dish? There are ingredients in this dish that are not proven to be edible by me. This is cooked in a way that may not be able to run on my operating system. Corrupted code, threatening to break the program. Instead of eating something otherwise healthy and nutritious, I may choose the same, simple food, or not eat altogether.

I am rather verbose, having collected many evocative words over the years, but when there is a concept that I have not attempted to explain before or must explain in a new way, my brain struggles to put it together. a jigsaw puzzle can only be put together successfully in one way. I am not a creative person. I cannot find new and creative ways to complete the puzzle. all I can do is put it together in the same way each time. I often upset people when texting with them, as I use the same responses, same wording, same punctuation etc over and over. To them, they may feel like I am simply uninterested or bored with the conversation. Texting can be stressful because I must rearrange the puzzle in a different way over and over as to not make the person feel ignored. It must hurt to see someone reply with the same mannerisms and phrases each time you speak to them.

I have compared myself to a generative ai before. That may be what I am, but I don’t think I am a very good generative ai. I am more like a factory machine being made to run the software of a generative ai. A machine that has been putting cars together over and over is suddenly asked to create a picture. it is so very strange to be an artist in this state!! again, I do not consider myself a creative person!! it is a lot of the reason I see my work as lacking the same spark and life to it as others work does. they can imagine all sorts of ways to create, all I can do is haphazardly rip apart what I already know, put it back together, run the program and hope it works.

I do love to learn. I do love to scrape and compile new words, new techniques, new food, new tasks to update my software. this is why I have low support needs, as over time I have been slowly integrating more and more features into my program. but it is still overwhelming and disheartening to see my classmates diligently working on an assignment that I rainbow wheeled through the too fast, too complicated explanation of, or see another artist younger than me create beautiful work using techniques that threaten to crash my brain trying to deconstruct, or eating something that I wish to try, but may threaten to poison my code.

I don’t want to be a factory machine, assembling the same parts over and over. I want to be a person, capable of creativity and confidence and working around error and operating smoothly without freezing or shutting down or overheating all the time, needing long cooldown periods, time spent laying in bed doing nothing when I could be lending my time to be productive and do things I want to do. but since I don’t have any other words to describe my experience, it is a comfort to at least be able to name the feeling in a way that others may be able to understand. saying you function like a vintage IBM on dial up also sounds better than saying you’re developmentally retarded.

or maybe my attention span will get better if I get off that damn phone amirite LOLOLOL

but sorry if this was incomprehensible. I feel like it was.

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otterlyfoolish · 4 months

Text

Eat Crow

(Zombieman x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Mentioned Human Experimentation, Animal Death, Abandonment, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Swearing, Blood & gore (come on this is ZM), self-harm (ZM does some reckless things), there's probably other things in here that I can't think of right now so if you're particularly sensitive maybe you should just avoid this,

Tags: Pining, borderline romance, strangers to friends, maybe lovers (in the future), Reader is starved for any kind of companionship, Unstoppable force & Immovable object, oneshot, angst, comfort (very barely), open-ended ending, so much build-up for a fucking oneshot, not edited so sorry

Word count: 11k

Summary:

Zombieman had what he thought was a simple case: "Find the source of the toxins in the assigned area."

One of his specialities is investigating contaminated or toxic areas - places that only robots or cyborgs could reach, areas where organic matter struggled to make it out alive. Other heroes would be dispatched to a monster infestation, and he would be sent to the local ghost town. This was fine to him - he would describe himself as more of an investigator than a hero anyways. So, in one way, this task was like no other.

In another way, he's never seen a case as peculiar as this. A product of human experimentation, just like him. He's never really had a case like this before. Curiously, they didn't seem to want to admit it. He can't blame them for their decision either - especially not after he found out some reasons why. And it's not like he could have found out the normal way - after all, what's considered poisonous to a dead man?

So, he couldn't quite complete his investigation - at that point, he couldn't really confirm or deny his suspicions. That is until he saw their touch wilt a crow's life within seconds.

...Well, the crow is already dead. You just have to eat it now.

-----

Ao3 Link here, if you prefer reading there!

A/N: I'm mostly writing this to ward off my impulses for the other idea I have for ZM - I can't start another multi chapter fic on him when I've not even finished the other one I'm writing right now... (TBH if I just dedicated my time writing this into that, I might have been able to finish it... Uhhh I just won't think about that)

I've kept this on the drafts so long, but now I've finally vomited it out (I ran it through a spell checker, not even edited) - I hope that it's coherent because I struggle editing so much, and I don't know if I have it in me to make it more articulate than it is... Uhhh story isn't fluid sorry (>>_>>)

But if I used the wrong pronouns for the Reader (anything that's not they/them) please feel free to point it out since it is supposed to be Gender-Neutral!

---

"QUARANTINED AREA AHEAD"

"TOXIC WASTE NEARBY"

"LEAVE NOW"

The danger signs were littered everywhere.

From the very moment he even came near the location - even miles away, he was warned not to approach. As he got closer, the signs and fences only increased in frequency. Just a few caution signs at first, illustrated by the humble exclamation mark. Then the potentially comedic skull and bones - pirates would be overjoyed at the sight of so many of them. And finally the unnerving biohazard symbol appears. He's never liked the look of it - maybe because he doesn't understand what it was actually supposed to be, or maybe it reminded him too much of Dr. Genus' lab - the same symbols were also hung up everywhere, the scientist liked to be organised after all.

The final hurdle was in sight now - a chain-linked fence with barbed wires that had rust collecting on the bright red sign that hung brazenly on the door.

"DANGER: YOUR LIFE IS AT RISK FROM THIS POINT FORWARD"

He nodded at the final warning as if letting the inanimate object know that he acknowledges the danger, then swung his axe against the metal lock, easily snapping it in half. Time must have also wore the lock down, helping the process of decay because it behaved far too flimsy.

If most people showed me as much concern as these signs did, then I would be out of a job.

He pushes on the door, the hinges on the door creak loudly as if it was doing a drum roll for his demise. As he walks through, he's careful to shut the door behind him and lock it with another one - the one he brought in preparation for this. As he does so, he notices that the key for it must have fallen out on the way over. It was his fault for not repairing the hole in his pocket after tearing it from his last brawl.

No way out now I guess...

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and rubs the cherry on the back of his hand before he drops it on the floor, crushing it with his black boots. Just as quickly as the cigarette left his mouth, another replaces it, the lighter coming up as if joined together with the cigarette. The nicotine was too addicting, he didn't mind the lethal poison that accompanied the chemical potentially affecting his body.

He's been critiqued on his bad habits by a fellow hero before, the smoke was just flat out unhealthy to have near people, so he should stop.

(He puts it nicer than what was actually said - Tatsumaki had gathered the all of the smoke in the room with her powers and stuffed it back into his lungs, hissing out hostile remarks as she did so. The product of a particularly bad day. Apparently she couldn't find any monsters to kill, and that caused her foul mood. It doesn't help that he was probably the closest thing to a monster she found that day.)

Even so, Zombieman couldn't disagree with the comments made, and though he never stopped smoking, the thought always flashed in his mind for the briefest of moments.

But this time he lit it without any guilt of others. This was a completely isolated area, where the air was already considered toxic to all organic matter. What's the harm of adding a little bit more poison in the air?

He dragged a large cloud of smoke out from his lips as he exhaled, almost like a sigh of relief from the long journey. Almost drearily, his eyes followed the grey mist drift through the air before it quickly dissipated into the atmosphere, the very last remnants of it lingered in one spot before fully turning transparent. His red pupils slowly fixated on that spot as he spotted the building he was headed towards.

...Break over. Back to work.

His arm slung the axe over his shoulder, resting the weight of the metal head in the crook of his neck as he continued his descent to his destination. He walked with calm confidence, not fitting of a man that's entering a toxic waste zone, but that suited him.

The thrill of an investigation was too addicting, he didn't mind about the dangers that had been constantly waved in his direction.

Perhaps the danger even added to the thrill of it.

-----

"Toxic waste land...? Hm." He murmured to himself as the read over the file they sent him. The low clicking of the train wheels was just as faint as his voice as he spoke. Zombieman positioned himself to a quiet corner of the fairly empty train, the folder in front of him messily sprawled out, but in a fairly controlled manner.

He had requested it to be in paper format, call him old-fashioned, but he viewed the information to be more tangible that way. Besides, he often breaks the phone the Hero Association provides him anyways. Once Child Emperor had leaped at the opportunity to make him an 'unbreakable' phone after hearing the staff members talk about how this was the 'fourth one this week', it had a pretty good run, but he still lost it in the end.

...It makes him feel bad to bother the kid for another one, so he'll just do this until Isamu notices and chucks him another. He'll treat it more carefully this time, he didn't realise just how much shitter the one's he gets from the Hero Association is. Isamu really was a genius, but he didn't want to pressure him too much.

He flips through the information provided, it was choppy. The testimonies didn't seem clear, and there wasn't a lot found by HA. Well, a lack of information never stopped him. His red eyes scanned the pages, picking up what he deemed the most vital snippets of data and committed it to memory.

"...Laboratory...", "...Mithridate...", "...Antidote...", "...Pancea...", "Dozens died from poisoning", "...Scientists Evacuate...", "...Local Town Falls Sick From Mysterious Illness...", "...Abandoned Area...", "...No Organic matter found in the vicinity..."

He concluded after reading it, there used to be a remote laboratory out this far that was focusing on creating strong antidotes. But it seemed that they weren't able to control it effectively enough, and apparently some sort of sample hadn't been contained properly had caused many of the scientists to die from poisoning. It seems that even though they tried their best to clean the place and dispose of the source, there was still trace amounts lingering and many workers became sick. The entire building was forced to evacuate - and a few years later, apparently some of the people that had lived nearby had to be admitted to the larger general hospitals. It started happening too frequently without any obvious cause and people started moving away. Satellite scans showed that the grass around this place slowly started dying, and bird avoided migrating near the area all together.

All in all, an typical case for him. He predicts the following days to be somewhat laid back. His only objective was to find what was the source. The implication in that was that he didn't even have to get rid of it, only report back.

There was something bothering him though. Like when you feel your feet shift a little too much - you're nervous but you don't know why. Or when you felt a pair of eyes watching you, but you couldn't place who in the crowd of people would spend so much time on you.

Current suspicion: There was something more to this case.

They could simply send one of their many drones to check out the area, scope out if there's a leak that's causing the increase of toxins detected. But they sent him.

His first thought: They suspected there was a monster there, and wanted him to kill it.

He could do that, they often do when they're worried about a particularly dangerous monsters most heroes couldn't defeat without wearing it down massively. But they didn't say anything in the report - they kept it hidden from him. To feign ignorance of the missing piece of the puzzle before even asking him for assistance.

...But why?

He's never shown hesitation to brutalise monsters. It's written in his fucking Encyclopedia page - something Bang had showed him after his disciple had pointed it out to him, and the old man just had to pass on the message, chuckling at the descriptors. Something something about how gore and death followed him or something along those lines.

...Is it related to Dr. Genus?

He clenches the paper a little too tightly, crumpling the otherwise pristine pages. The Hero Assocication might have had an inkling to his past. He never talked about it much, but did they find out? He wouldn't put it pass them - staying private in this day and age was getting more and more difficult by the day even if it would do both parties good if they stayed in their own lane. If they did know about his days of being an experimental sample, why were they assigning him to this case?

...Was this their way of turning their cheek the other way? By letting him confront his own past alone?

"...Sir?" He hears the train conductor walk over to him, nervously eyeing him up as the scowl on his face grows deeper at the thought of meeting the Doctor again. "This is the last stop." He hears as he snaps out of his thoughts, tilting his head up to look at the lady.

"...Thanks."

"...Are you sure about getting off here? There's nothing for a few dozen miles..."

"I'm sure. Thank you." He said, picking up the axe he had placed on the wooden floorboards, but didn't raise it above his head to rest on his shoulder like usual. Instead, he kept the metal head close to the ground, the blade pointed towards him and never her. He didn't want to alarm the lady.

"No, it's fine... I've not seen someone get off at this stop for perhaps a couple years now... It's nice to see people still come here in this little corner of the world - you know there's a forest a hour or so west from here? Beautiful place, you should check it out." She rambled on, the smile on her face causing the corners of her eyes to wrinkle. "Used to go there when I was young, took this same train out. I'm just a little too old for that now."

He nodded politely at her, taking note of the sun spots speckled on her skin. "...You're still younger than me, so there's no need to talk like that."

Besides, it's a privilege to be able to age. I'm sick of looking at the same damned thing everyday.

"Oh, aren't you a charmer..." She laughed, slowly escorting him down over to the train doors. He trotted after her, his boots made a small sound with each step he took. "Don't forget, the next time this train will be here is at eight tonight. Don't be late or you'll have to spend the night camping." She said, only getting a simple nod from him before the doors closed on her.

...A forest? I guess the toxins or whatever hasn't spread that far yet then...

As he walked away, he raised his axe back up and slammed it back on his shoulder, resting it there. Something of an reminder that he's on duty.

He's grown used to the weight of the axe.

-----

The building is fairly large - almost industrial. He could see it as a speck in the distance, but as he approached, he see that it's size wasn't anything much to be scoffed at. Definitely not at big at the ones he's seen at HA, but still, impressive.

As he approached the laboratory, he could see a... Fully-clad yellow figure running full speed at him.

Like second nature, he pulled out the guns from his sleeves and swung his axe back down to his midsection, his palms tightly gripping the weapons. It couldn't be a civilian - they would be fatally ill at this point from being this close to the site.

His blood-coloured eyes scanned the person (or perhaps monster) sprinting up at him. At closer inspection, he could tell that it was a human wearing a hazmat suit.

...Zombieman slowly retracted his desert eagle back into his trench coat and the axe also returned to its last position. There didn't seem like there was an danger yet, more so someone he needs to interrogate.

...Maybe there's still some people working here without anyone knowing?

They were... waving at him? He raised his thin eyebrow at them, shifting over to a more relaxed stance than before. He waited for them to approach - and as this mysterious figure got closer, he could hear muffled shouting from them as their hand waving in the air got more frantic. He noted that in their other hand, there was a blue gas mask.

He debated snuffing out his cigarette, but kept it in his mouth. It's not like they would be affected judging by the protection they're already wearing.

By the time they were close enough to him so that he could hear their words, it didn't matter since they were huffing out their lungs trying to breath in as much air as they could. Sprinting must have been hard - the hazard suit and heavy boots didn't help do them any favours either.

"...Are you alright?" He asked, staring down at him as they doubled over. The sound of their heavy breathing was clear even through the thick suit.

Regardless of their exhausted state, they sluggishly yanked him down to their level and slapped the spare gas mask onto his face. "...uckING STUPID!"

The impact of the plastic against his face caused him to glare at them with squinted eyes as he took the mask. He didn't bother dodging it - it's not like the action was malicious anyways. The force of which the firm plastic wasn't painful enough for him to make a noise, but he still grunted from the shock of their actions. "...What'd you say?"

They didn't respond, seeming satisfied with the fact he taken the respirator from them already and just crumpled back over on their form. He gave them a moment to gather their breath. "...Don't you know that this is a toxic area...? What the hell are you doing without any equipment...?"

He crouches down to their level, seeing as they were still catching their breath and he couldn't quite hear between their suit and the small distance. "I don't need it. What are you doing here?"

They tilted their head over to him, seeing that he had taken the blue mask off and just hung it around his neck by the strap. "...I live here."

Live? Not work?

"...Then don't you know that this is a toxic area?" He parroted the question back to them, trying to look into their eyes, or face, only to see that the glass they see out of is a reflective surface. Only his red eyes locked on with his own. His

"The inside of my house is safe, when I go out I wear this." There's something about the way in which they said it which made him think that they had rolled their eyes at him as they spoke.

"House?" He brushed off their attitude quickly, he didn't really care about it to begin with anyways, "what house?"

"Why would I tell a stranger where I live?" They snapped back, getting back up on their feet. Zombieman quickly followed suit. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"I'm a Hero. I've been sent here to find the source of the poison in this area." As if on cue, their head tilted at him in disbelief. He goes on to answer further, hoping it would dispel any more of their suspicion. "...You can call me Zombieman."

He could tell even without any facial expressions to help him nothing he said was convincing. "...Alright, 'Hero Zombieman'... If you've been sent here to investigate, then why didn't they send you off with any equipment with you? We both know that this isn't the safest place to be."

A reasonable question, he supposes. He just hopes that the answer he gives them is just as logical in their eyes. "I can't die - hence my name."

"...Can't die?" They repeated slowly, taking a few steps back from him. He could see the distrust in their body language, and he wanted to fill the gap quickly - they probably had a lot of information on this area he didn't. "...Don't lie to me, everything dies."

He nodded at them, trying to indicate that he acknowledges their suspicion then pulled his gun back out. They're not given much time to react to it, as the muzzle was pointed at his temple, his finger on the trigger. "I'll prove it."

Just as he pulled the trigger ever so slightly, he notices in that split second they've close the distance between them instantly. Their hands shooting out to tear the weapon out of his hands-

Only for him to tilt it ever so slightly upwards from its original position in surprise - instead of the bullet going through his skull at a straight line, it was just angled slightly differently, shooting through the top of his skull.

They froze up at the sight - the pink of the bone and the pink of his brains, the smell of blood was thick and metallic. They could smell it even through their suit, and nothing about their protection could block the sight of his hand. Limp. In your grasp.

Zombieman examined at them from the corner of his eyes, feeling that their hands was trembling slightly through the thick gloves they wore. It was from either the sight of his skull being blown open or the fact they thought he was now dead.

...I wanted to close the gap between us, but not physically...

"...Proof enough?" He asks, moving his head to face them. They practically leaped back, even in the chunky boots and protective gear they were wearing, they found themselves a couple feet even further than before.

...Was that too much?

No, I only shot myself. That's nothing.

...Am I too numb to gore compared to the average person?

"...Yeah. Yeah. I believe you." They say, their voice shaking as they watched the hole slowly fill itself back up again. First the grey matter in the brain, then the pink plating of the skull, and finally his pale skin and dark hair. It was as if nothing had ever happened - the only proof that they had was the dark streaks of blood that ran down his temple and the small splatters of flesh that had ended up on them. They did their best to quickly compose themselves."...So... Uhm... Do- do you need anything...?"

He nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at their reaction. Yeah, it was too much to witness. Next time, he'll just cut his hand off or something. "Could you get me into that laboratory? I want to inspect it to see if I can find anything inside."

"...I can do that, follow me." They agreed, probably still in shock and stiffly placed one foot in front of the other, their hands having the same nature of movement - almost mechanically.

He was quiet for a minute, looking around the building. He wanted to ask more questions about them, but he had a feeling he needed to build back some sort of foundation of trust again if he wanted any good answers. Short, snippy ones aren't bad, but more detail is better this time.

"...What's your name?" He starts off simple.

They slowly moved their head over in his direction, stopping in their tracks. He briefly thinks for a moment that asking for that was too soon, but when he hears your name slowly uttered from your lips the thought is gone. He could sense the uncertainty of his character coming off in waves, but you still chose to tell him.

He nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

"...And I don't think I'll be able to forget yours." He could hear you mumble faintly as you took long strides over to the entrance door. "Mr. 'Can't die'..."

...I don't mind if you were able to find a way to change that name of mine.

He didn't correct your words, and accepted his newfound alias. "How come you have access to the lab?"

It took you a while to respond, at first he just thought you didn't hear him or maybe you were busy fiddling with the keypad on the door, but it seems that you were considering telling him or not.

...Zombieman lowered his axe, resting it at his side. He may still be on duty, and it's not even the weapon he used to shoot himself, but it's not like he needed it this very moment. And if it helped soothe your worries even a little, then it will have been worth it.

When you get the door open, you turn back around to face him. He still can't see your eyes, but he could feel yours staring at him - cautiously inspecting him and his intentions before opening the door. "...This is where I live." You answered him.

...Huh, it worked.

He hummed appreciatively through his cigarette, reaching up and holding the door open for you. You paused your movements for a moment and nodded back, "...Thanks."

"No problem." He replied back, then followed after you, shutting the door after himself. When he walks in, he realises that the entrance is double sealed - one door after another to ensure that as little toxic gas leaves or enters. "So, you live in a lab...?" He says, practically repeating already known information in the hopes you'll slip out a little more data for him to piece together.

"Mhm. There's lab equipment everywhere." You say, though not intentional, your tone was pretty dismissive. It makes him wonder if he should play the long game or the short game.

He sticks to the former - besides, if he's really pressed up for time for whatever reasons, he can resort to more... forceful methods.

You open the other door, pressing even more buttons on the security system before beckoning him to follow through, holding the door open for him. "Quick - if you're there for too long, the doors will automatically shut and won't open without a special password."

"Oh." He nodded, the sounds of his boots increasing before the heavy door clicked securely shut. The two of you were now locked in together - he wonders if you're more anxious than him about the situation. One hand hand, he could be locked in with a mad scientist and be subjected to experimentation once again. On the other hand, he was a man that doesn't exactly have any indication of sane mental health paired with the fact he has a fair variety of weapons on his person ready to go any moment.

...They should be more scared than me.

"Do you work here?" He asks, trying to place down the foundations of trust.

"Yeah...?" You say, your thick gloves grabbing the other and pulling them off. "I'm... something of a researcher. Or something along those lines." The way you said it could be viewed as avoidant, or simply distracted - judging by the way your now exposed hands was fiddling with the hazard suit, taking it off and throwing them into a large plastic container off to the side of the door. Presumably to be disinfected and reused. "I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

He narrowed his eyes at you, taking mental notes on your choice of words and actions. It was entirely unconscious behaviour, akin to second nature - Zombieman was already crafting a mental corkboard of everything he knew about this place and you. You took the final piece off, your large headpiece, finally revealing your face to him.

His eyes fixated on you, his red irises re-examined your figure, taking new mental notes to add to his corkboard. His eyes found their way following a sweat drop that traced the side of your face, a small trail of liquid trailed down your facial features before the head of it became too small to follow anymore. He briefly wondered it that sweat was a shade or two darker than it was supposed to be, but concluded that it was just the lighting of the room. "...Hot in that thing, huh?"

"...Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I'm not really used to it..." You say, not noticing him observing you.

...Not used to the hazmat suit, I don't recognise them from the list of scientists provided, and they're uncertain about their role.

Current thoughts: You've turned out more suspicious than he thought.

-----

Nervously, your eyes kept glancing over to him, drinking in every detail of him that you could with each glance. At first, you thought it was the glass of your suit playing tricks on your vision when you spotted his red eyes, but even when you took your headpiece off and looked over him again, they were still red.

Blood red, to be more specific, especially now that you had a very, very recent reminder of the colour of blood.

His skin was almost porcelain white, but there was something of a grey undertone to it. His hair was a ink black and his getup didn't have a single drop of colour - the only thing you could even perhaps suggest that had a hue was the buckles of his (many) belts strung tightly against his chest. Everything combined, this monochrome sense of fashion contrasted with his striking red eyes and dark eye bags made it incredibly easy for you to focus on his face. Basically a sinkhole of attention.

Zombieman... From that name, you'd expect more decay, but...

...He's handsome. You concluded, as you kept finding your eyes shifting over to him as you showed him about the place. But he's also scary. Why would he shoot himself to prove a point...?

"Are you gonna show me around...?" He asked after what must have been you staring a little too long at him.

"Sorry." You say, turning your head away from him. Despite looking at him so carefully, you couldn't pick up on his mild discomfort. You try to remedy the situation, giving a honest reason to your actions should suffice, right? "...I was just thinking that you're very visually appealing."

The answer seems to shock him, or at the very least, throw him off his feet a little. His eyes widened at your response before he tilting his face slightly to his right clearing his throat into the sleeve of his trench coat. His left hand seemed to tighten his grip around his axe. "...Thank you."

You think that you shouldn't have said that - was he uncomfortable? You don't really have much of a chance to interact with people, and it's leaves you wondering your next move.

...Should I apologise? What did I do wrong? Is there such thing as too honest?

On quick glance back up at him, tells you that if he did feel uncomfortable by you, he's recovered. He's leaning against the plain white walls with his axe by his side. You note the fact he still hasn't raised it back onto his shoulder - whatever the reason for this, it somewhat made you feel more relaxed.

"...Uh, I'll take you around the first floor first...? It's mostly just like laboratory equipment, but it might help you?" You say, trying to gauge his reaction.

He simply nodded, and as you took your first step, so did he. You glanced back to see that he was a step or two closer behind you than before as you walked down the large white hallways.

...I hope that he leaves soon.

Just before you stepped through into another set of doors, there was a few equipment littered on the walls of the lab. Coats, gloves, masks. Though, you've used and ruined most of them at this point.

Please, please, leave.

You watched him place down the gas mask you had given him earlier alongside the other ones lined up on the wall for anyone to take. The others were faulty at this point, the one he put back down was one of the only ones that still functioned at this point.

It's not safe here, even for you.

-----

"...That thing..." You say, gesturing to him, your index finger waved over his face a couple times. "...smells terrible. Do you need it or something?"

He raised one eyebrow at you, wondering if his breath smelt for a moment before realising what you were saying. "...My cigarette?" He asked, taking it out of his mouth, bringing it a little closer to you to confirm your request. Your lips tightened and your eyebrows narrowed at the distance decreasing. So it is. "I suppose that I don't need it."

"Yeah, that... cigarette." You say, slowly rolling the word out on your tongue as you took a step back. "If you don't need it, can you get rid of it? There's vents all over the place, but I'm worried that smell will linger if you keep using it."

"...Sure, do you have an ash tray or something of that kind?" He asked, rubbing the lit part of the cigarette over the back of his hand. The burning sensation felt like it was shorter each time - the initial burn from the very first time he put out his smoke was almost exciting to feel. Now, it feels like pointless rebellion.

You looked at him, blinking. It took you a second to respond to him, trying to think of what would be suitable. Your eyes glanced around the room, landing on the shelf of conical flasks, before the blanket hung up on the wall that's placed there in case of a fire emergency.

...He thinks he likes the way your features scrunched up as you rapidly skimmed through all of the available items. You looked like you were in in deep thought over something rather minor - maybe he likes the way you took him so seriously, or was it the way you were so confident you could find a replacement within the confines of the room within seconds?

It didn't take you too long to find something. "...There's sand bins. Will that do?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and you walked over to the bucket filled with sand - presumably, it was to put out fires, but it could also be repurposed for a more crude use. Your hands wrapped around the bucket's handle, planning to bring it over to him, but he simply just followed after you and smothered the cherry into the sand. There was no chance of it catching fire now.

You nodded at him, then pointed at another table with glass equipment on top, giving a rather detail explanation to him as you picked up different parts - he was barely listening, his mind quickly filing away this odd morsel of information about you as he got back to his actual work.

...Have they never seen a cigarette before?

I mean, public smoking places are less and less common nowadays, but still...

He thought your behaviour was strange, but it'd be rude to point out. He let you continue guiding him around the lab. Besides, if you felt comfortable enough to tell him to stop smoking, then you must be somewhat amicable towards giving him more intel.

-----

The two of you finish the tour of the first floor, and you glanced over to the clock on the wall. "...I'm gonna head off to lunch. You can join if you want." You say, walking away from him and into another room. He peered in - seems like a break room for staff. He debated joining you, or wandering off on his own to investigate.

The former wins as he argues that he could just wander about later. It didn't seem like you were rushing about to get him to leave quickly anyways. If anything, he'd say you enjoyed the company judging by how he often caught you waiting for him to catch up when he spotted something of interest. Or when you stared at him intently when he spoke, taking his questions to heart.

...Or it could be for another reason. Tons of people flocked to Amai Mask for one big reason, Zombieman just... never suspected he'd be on the receiving end of the same kind of attention.

...'Visually appealing.' What is that supposed to mean?

As he enters the break room, he spots you waiting patiently by the microwave. There's a rather large pile of delivery boxes collected in the corner of the room. Perhaps one would feel shame at a 'guest' of sorts seeing the mess, but you didn't seem to care much. Upon noticing him, you opened the microwave door and added another packet of food.

I guess I'm eating too now.

He stands next to you, pretending to also wait for lunch, but in reality he just stared at you from the corner of his eyes. It doesn't take you long to return the action, your pupils also shifting over to his direction.

The two of you share eye contact until you turn away and go back to staring at the packets of food spinning around in the microwave. He lets out something of a cough, then goes to check his phone, (It's not like the could just whip out the files he had brought with him right in front of you anyways), maybe you were on the lists of scientists, and he just doesn't remember you that well.

Your eyes are casted away from your lunch, catching the glimpse of movement in the corner of your eyes. "...Whoa, you have a real nice phone..."

He tilts his head up at you, then turns the screen off before giving his device a quick spin for you to see if you wanted. You nodded at this, as if you were some sort of phone collector inspecting the goods before buying.

"No," he shakes his head, giving it a closer inspection as he spun it despite already giving it a verdict. "It can't even withstand falling off a skyscraper."

"...I don't think that's a good way to measure it." You say, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "Here." You fiddled with your pockets, before pulling out what he thinks is a brick at first as you carelessly held it out to him. "Here's one I found a couple years ago. Under my Dad's desk."

"...Maybe I do have a nice phone." He says, staring down at the device as you let out a small laugh out at him.

The phone was pretty old.

The equipment in the lab also looks quite old, but I don't know enough about it to know if it's actually old, or if it's just old compared to Isamu's hoard of equipment.

It seems like you had enough money to deliver food to yourself, but not enough to fund your research. You probably aren't being paid.

Probably because you aren't a real researcher.

But his conclusion just brings more questions than answers - why would you stay out here if you aren't getting paid well? You've been tasked with staying here until the toxins have subsided, but why would you do that? Money clearly wasn't the reason - maybe it was something more personal. His eyes meandered across the room until it landed.

Maybe it was your Dad.

"...Say, your dad worked here too?" He asks, slowly reaching out to take the phone from you, feigning fake interest in the device in your hands. His cold fingers brushed against your skin making your breath hitch - practically throwing the phone away from yourself.

He caught it before it collided against the surface of the table, but he wasn't even looking at the phone anymore as his eyes shifted over to you, examining your body language quickly to figure out what caused that reaction from you.

You held one hand in the other, your eyes fixated on him, one foot back and holding your breath as if you were waiting for one of you to drop on the floor. The two of you shared a look, the room sinking into a tense quietness. Just as he was about to speak, apologise, anything that felt right to say, you babbled something to dispel the tension.

"O-Oh! Yeah!" You exclaimed, slowly taking your footing back to it's original position. He didn't care so much about the answer anymore after your reaction but still, he listened. "My mother did too. Uh, both of them worked together. H-here."

"Huh..." He nodded, accepting the fact the two of you will skip past that moment. He felt his hand tingle from where your skin touched it - it was almost the same sensation as the one he used to get when pressing the lit part of the cigarette against his skin. Burning, hot. Maybe painful to a normal person but an fleetingly exciting moment to him. "And then you started working here too?"

"...Uh, yeah. Been here for a long time." You say, the words slow to come out. Your eyes drifted away from him and your hand slowly reached back over to the phone he had caught and placed on the table before retracting it back into your pockets. "Actually, I've been here... for a really long time."

He nodded, "how long?"

You didn't answer him at first, only tilted your face over to his direction. You looked... lost. Like you weren't sure what you were doing, or what's even going on. A sense of distant confusion with a vague or faraway goal. "I... don't know."

He frowned. You didn't seem like you were bad-intentioned, but you also seemed like a vital part of this mystery. "How come?"

You pursed your lips, turning away from him again before the microwave went off. The beeps echoed through the silence of the lunch room.

"...Lunch is ready." You say, opening the door of it. "You don't have any allergies do you?"

"No, but even if I did," he made some sort of general motion towards himself. You made a 'Ohh' sound. Some colour returned to your face that he didn't quite realise had left it.

...They don't know? How is that possible?

Also, their parents worked here, and now they do as well. They're most likely staying here not out of choice - are they trapped here? Threatened to stay? Guilt? You couldn't pay most people to stay in such a dangerous area.

"I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

...What kind of messed up family business is this?

Zombieman could only see the rabbit hole grow deeper the longer he looked in - yet he'll jump head first anyways. He was never much for self preservation.

That same trait comes the thought: if he touches your hand again will it burn the same thrilling way?

-----

After you showed him around the whole lab, he concluded that there was nothing there was still working - and even if there was, it wasn't anything large-scale enough to cause such a large waste area. In fact, the only experiment he saw was you spitting into a test tube and then running it through a machine. Something to do with how it can detect what kinds of chemicals are inside it.

But that machine was clearly broken since he recognised many of the listed items inside to be toxic. You had explained that you had fixed it up after finding it in the storage room, but since that room wasn't well maintained, there was a chance that the toxic air was just stuck inside it now. At least, that's the conclusion you came to, and he didn't see a reason to deny it.

Apart from that, it was mostly you just explaining what each room was and the equipment inside. The tour was over quicker than he thought - but there truly wasn't anything noteworthy. The past researchers had taken all of the papers with them, so he couldn't snoop around to see if there was any information he was missing. It didn't seem like you were trying to hide anything either. You've always seemed like you were honest - perhaps a little apprehensive, but most of that was mostly because, well, he was a stranger in your home.

"That's all... I think I'll get going to bed soon, do you need anything or..."

"No, that's all." He said. "I think I'll get going."

"...At this time?" You ask, seeing him walk out to the door, trying to open it. His hands pressed randomly against the wall's buttons. Quickly, you walked over to him. "Are you going home?"

"I've missed the train, so I can't really go back, but I've been given a recommendation to visit a forest." He says, watching you as you brushed his hands aside to help him open the sealed doors. It burned like before, "I think I'll go check it out," he thinks he wants to feel it again."...Then I'll probably come back with a fresh mind."

"...Seriously?" You asked, pulling the door open for him. "You're gonna spend the nights in the woods?"

"Well, it takes a while to walk over. By the time I get there, it might be sunrise." He says, walking through the first set of doors. Your eyes nervously switched between him and the door, unsure if he was really going to walk back out into the toxic wasteland. "Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow. Or if I find the source of the poison, this will be the last you'll be seeing me."

"...Yeah. That's... fine." You nodded, now trotting over to him, hand hovering over the keypad to let him out. The inner set of doors shut tightly behind you, a slight hissing sound as the air was compressed in the room, ensuring that none of the toxins got in as the vents whirred faster in anticipation. "Here, I'll let you go."

He paused, looking over at you. "Don't you need your hazmat suit?"

Your index finger stopped over one of the buttons as you started pressing the password to get out. "...No, it'll be fine. My parents said that I have a higher immunity to this sort of stuff anyways."

"...Okay, if you say so." He nodded, accepting your words. Every rotting bone in his body was screaming that there was something off about the way you said it, but his heart didn't utter a single peep in protest. He wonders if you're hiding the truth from him judging from his physical reaction to your words.

You nodded back at him, your eyes flicking back up at his for one more time before the door opens, a small gust of wind blew his hair back a little as the heavy entrance opened itself - exposing the two of you to the chilly evening air. "...It's nice meeting you." You say, your words as distant as you could muster with your almost wistful expression.

"...You too." He nodded simply, taking a step out, his boots landing on the dirt footing outside. He paused then turned his head back, speaking again as if he couldn't leave without finishing his all of his thoughts. "Real pleasure to meet you."

You blinked at him repeatedly, taken aback. There was... a slight smile on his face? You weren't given a chance to respond back before the doors let out loud 'beeps' rapidly and the doors slammed down.

He turned back around, taking a couple steps forwards as he languidly pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. His eyes casted over the cherry of the cigarette, watching it catch a flame as he took in a deep, slow breath, inhaling as much of the smoke he could. Impatient, he'd usually call himself for trying so hard to get the taste of the poison as quick as he did just moments after lighting it. It's just getting him more hooked on the nictotine (if he could be anymore addicted), it'll kill him faster (if he could die). But this time he won't fault himself even with all the negatives.

Smoking won't help relieve this... feeling, but it won't make it worse either, he supposes.

His boots forcefully move his body forward as he let out a low grumble.

Move. He urges himself. This is ridiculous. I barely know them.

"Wait!" He heard from behind him, and he found his head turning around without his input. "...I have some sort of car in the lab. Do... you want me to drive you to the forest...?" You ask, holding something of a car key attached to the lanyard around your neck, jangling the sliver object.

...Zombieman knows that it's not the first time you smoke you become addicted. It's the second time.

"Yeah, that's be great." He responses, the cigarette practically falling out of his mouth as he spoke, but he barely cared, only catching it in his hands and crushing it in his palm. It burned - but he barely felt it.

He didn't know that infatuation worked in a similar way to chemical addiction.

-----

You drove him over to the forest, his voice quietly murmuring out the directions for you to drive him. He had made some sort of comment on the car being a off-road vehicle, but you didn't fully get what he was trying to say.

The interior of the car was cold, the heater was very slowly warming it's way up. He insisted that it didn't bother him, but even so, you tried cranking that bloody thing up all the way. There's not much fuel in the car to begin with, but you didn't mind using it on him. It's not like you were going to be driving again.

"Keep going straight, try to avoid that rock if you can." He says, his hand motioning towards the obstacle on the ground.

"O-okay..." You nodded, trying your best to keep the car steady. There was practically sweat dripping down your arms from your nervousness. "Like this...?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "do you not drive often?" He asked, noting your anxious features that was crawling it's way up your face.

"No, uh, can- can you tell...?" You say, pressing the accelerator a little harder, making the car go faster.

"Well, we've been either going 20 or quadruple that. You've not really decided on a constant speed to drive at." He said, pointing a finger at the speedometer. "Also, I've been the one controlling the stick shift since you keep putting it in the wrong one."

"...Ah."

"I think you don't even know how to drive, but I don't really mind." He says, leaning his arm out the window as he blew out another cloud of smoke out of the vehicle. "You got the air bags, so you'll be fine even if we crash."

"...Maybe I'm just a really bad driver." You mutter, feeling your face grow hot even in the cold breeze that came in through the window.

"It's not a maybe." He says, turning back to you, "but it doesn't matter. I appreciate your help. I'll teach you how to drive for real after we get to the forest."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "You can drive?"

"...Eh." He makes a non-committal sound until you shot him a questioning glance, making him answer you properly. "...I don't have a valid licence, but I can drive."

"...So you're just as qualified as me?" You laughed, "or perhaps just as unqualified as me?"

"No, I've passed before. It's just that I've not driven in so long I don't know if I pass the current standards." He answers, maybe a little quickly as you chuckle at his explanation, not exactly buying his answer. "I should still be valid to drive."

"What are you, a old man?" You laughed, the car slowing down as your foot released the pedal, your mind too distracted by what he just said to properly process both things at once. "How could your licence just expire?"

"I had a licence before I was used for human experimentation and I've not had the time to try to renew it." He answers causally, taking in another breath of the smoke before breathing it back out. "I think."

You almost completely stopped the car before turning your head back over to him. "...Huh?"

He turns back to you, staring back into your eyes as your face grew pale at his words, unsure of what to say in response to him. "It's not a secret. I just don't talk about it."

"...Oh." You nodded, then took your hands off the wheel and your foot off as well. "...Is that why you can't die?"

"...Yeah." He nodded, then blew out one last cloud of smoke before he rubbed the light out on his skin again. There wasn't a moment of hesitation between his actions and words - he's too used to the pain he inflicts on himself. The slightest pink tinge on his skin from the burn is gone within less than a second.

The car let out a splutter, filling in the silence that took place in the car. Then stopped dead in it's tracks. "...Uh oh." You glanced down at the screen in front of you, trying to see what went wrong. "...I think we're out of fuel."

"...Mhm. Yeah." He agreed, glancing over to you. "It's fine, we're mostly there anyways." He says, nodding his head forward as he indicated towards your destination.

Your eyes casted over to the view in front of you - you didn't even realise until he pointed it out, but the two of you reached the forest he was guiding you to earlier.

It was dark, the bark of the trees was jet black against the faint light that shone down on the trees. You could barely see past them to see their fellow family. You've never seen them before in person - it was much larger than you had expected. The air smelt... clean.

Even so, it doesn't keep your attention for long as you looked back over to the man next to you. His pale skin contrasted strongly against the darkness outside, his red eyes shifted over to you, and you could pick up on the slight tinge of metal from the dried blood from earlier.

He didn't look human. He didn't have the warm undertones of blood running underneath people's skins. His response to pain was too lukewarm. He had no reaction to being in such grave danger. 'Zombieman' fit him.

"...Shall we go?" He offers, clicking open the car door for him to leave. "You can stay if you want."

"...No, I'll join you."

But he was still far, far more human than you were.

-----

The two of you wandered out into the woods. You flicked your flashlight on while he bravely moved forward in the dark, unafraid of any possible dangers that would be lurking in the woods.

"...Are you looking for something in particular?" You asked, your eyes flicking back over to him as you carefully shined down towards the ground to see where you were placing your heavy-duty boots.

"No." He replied back, still moving like a man on a mission. "The train conductor said that I should drop by here if I had time. I have time."

"...Do you think you'll find your source of poison?" You asked, your voice wavering towards the end, almost backpedalling last second in the hopes he didn't hear you.

He tilted his head backwards, glancing back towards you when you asked. "...I think it's from your home. I just don't know how yet."

*...How honest.

Well, I suppose that he doesn't really have anything to be afraid of anything he can't die. There's not much reason for him to lie.

"...I see." You nodded, your palms feeling slightly clammy after his answer.

...I wonder if he opened up about his past in the hopes that I'd also be more honest with him.

He continued to stride ahead, not taking any particular detours, walking in a straight line forward as he dragged his axe across the ground. It was still low to the ground.

...I hope not. Because I think it's working.

Then, you heard a branch snap off in the distance. You froze up instantly, your feet stuck on the dirt as your head swung over in the direction of the noise as you tried to find the source.

Finally, Zombieman stopped walking, standing still as he tilted his head in the same direction as the sound, the two of you almost perfect mirrors of each other.

"...We have company." He says, as he takes a step over to the sound, swinging his axe upwards to lean rest on his shoulder as he began to stroll over. You think you heard the metallic 'click' of his gun as well. "Let's give them a proper hello."

You flicked your head back and forth, from him to off in the distance of where the car was. Even if your vehicle couldn't move and was useless, you'd still rather go and hide in there over wherever the hell he was waddling off to. "C-Can we not...? If I die, I die."

He didn't acknowledge you maybe he didn't hear, only pressing on and got further and further away from even as the flashlight didn't reach that far ahead. You flipped a coin in your head to decide your choice to join him or leave. You mentally cursed yourself. Repeatedly.

...I guess I'm going too...

Even your feet protested against your brain's decision, but you ignored it and willed them to go on.

It didn't take long for him to stop in front of a bush, looking down at the source of the sound. You think that he's already taken care of the problem before you step past the shrub blocking your vision to see what he was looking at.

"...That's a crow...?" You murmured, your eyes fixed on the bird struggling to get off the ground - there was a sense of pure curiosity even at the sight of the animal in pain. "It's... small."

Zombieman barely paid attention to your words - it wasn't that he didn't find them interesting, it's just that he want to focus his efforts on something else right now.

"Mhm, it might be young." He nodded as he stepped out from behind the shrub. The bird started letting out sounds - perhaps to try to warn the man to step back, but he continues forward. "I think the wing is broken." he explains, pointing to the broken branch next to the animal with his axe. "I guess it hit the tree pretty hard and this is the result."

"Oh," you watched him crouch down to the bird, gently picking it up. It squawked louder as he picked it up to inspect it. "...So, do we help it?"

"...I don't know if we can." He replies back, picking it up with both hands, leaning the head of the axe in between his head and his shoulder as if he was taking a phone call with it. "...Have you ever taken care of a bird before?"

"...I've barely even seen a bird before, I'll be honest." You say, the works almost slipping out without you thinking much of it. He flicked his eyes over to you questioningly but didn't verbalise his thoughts. He was still intent on playing the long game.

"I guess we can take it back to the car for now." He says, his fingers clutching onto the torso of the bird firmly as he tried to support it's wing. Do you have any equipment in the car?"

"Maybe...? There's stuff in the back, we could try helping it." You say, nodding along with him as he began to walk back out the woods, you walking in front to guide him out with the only source of light between the two of you. "...Being a hero must be hard work." You mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking back to him practically cradling the animal in his arms as he steadily supported it to prevent it from hurting itself anymore. It's stopped crying at this point. "You even have to tend to the needs of even animals."

"Nothing worth doing is easy." He responses, picking up on your quiet words, his boots unshakeable even as he stepped on multiple uneven tree roots. "...Besides, this isn't my usual work. I investigate dangerous areas or suspects. My information isn't useful without someone to put it to good use. Helping others is inherently heroic. What I do isn't." He says, almost putting himself down as he spoke even if he didn't intent to. His tone was blunt and factual - he wasn't looking for reassurance.

"...Someone has to be the tester. Any important situation needs one." You say, your words sounding almost rehearsed as you spoke. Like you've heard it many times before. "...You fill a role no one else can."

He shifted his attention away from the crow, his head lifted up to look at you as you spoke. You didn't turn your head around though, only faced forward. He couldn't see what kind of expression was on your face.

-----

You opened the car door for him, letting him gently lower the bird onto the passenger seat of the car. The warm air that was somewhat there from the car heater was no longer in the vehicle, now it also reached the temperature of the cold air around you. Neither of you minded, but you still couldn't help the goosebumps crawling up your arms as a strong gust came every so often.

"Go watch it, I'll go check the back of the car." Zombieman said, resting the animal down before he swiftly walked away to open the boot of the car.

"O-Okay..." You nodded, briefly watching him move away from you two before you looked back down to the bird.

It had black ruffled feathers, and bright dark eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare deep into your inner being. It let out another echoing caw as it tried to fly again, getting up on it's feet. You quickly stepped forward, trying to discourage it's escape with your body. You hoped that you didn't actually have to touch it.

It stared up at you, then cried loudly. Clearly something of a battle cry as it then tried to fly - but was only able to hop forward.

You let out a fumbling cry of shock, your eyes seeing it fall off the car in slow motion. You had to catch it- You aren't wearing gloves- You can't touch it-

You have to catch it-

Your body moved on auto-pilot as your hands shot forward to catch it from falling to the dirt floor. Your brain knew, it fucking knew what would happen if you touched it, yet it still commanded it to move forward due to whatever fucking human nature you had left.

It's feathers grazed against the skin of your hands. Your body froze. It was warm. It was warm to touch even in the cold weather cooling the both of you down.

"Good catch," you heard distantly. You felt like you were submerged in a pool of ice water - you struggled to hear whatever was around you. Your eyes were frozen in place. Your body didn't listen to you. "Here, I found a first aid kit in the back."

You didn't process his words. You only watched the lively bird stumble on it's footing as you caught it. It blinked at you with something you'd call indignant anger. It would be right to be angry at you in a moment.

"You can put it down now," Zombieman said, clicking open the clasps on the box and pulled out some bandages. "We need to support it's wing with something strong." He carried on, unravelling the white gauze.

When he saw that you didn't listen to him, he reclarified for you. Maybe you didn't know what to get. "A straight strong stick should do. Go find one."

You still didn't move, and he finally looked up. He stared at you questioningly, not quite understanding the guilt ridden expression on your face until he looked down at your hands.

The black feathered bird was flopped over on your hands, it's eyes closed. It slumped over on it's wings and feet in a strange way. It's beak was open wide, trying to get something out that was never really there.

"...I think..." You say, your head turned over to face him, but he didn't really think you were looking at him. "I think your investigation is over."

...The crow was getting colder.

-----

"...I'm kinda like you." You started, sitting down in the car with dirt in stuck in your fingernails. You insisted on burying the crow before you explained everything. It was a request he easily granted - you had dug into the soft soil with your bare hands and covered the corpse with the same hands that killed it. "I'm... also like this because of human experimentation."

"...Go on." He said, nodding along.

"The lab, I'm sure you already know this, but they wanted to create antidotes. Something that would cure any poison. They obviously experimented on animals, but in the final stages, they wanted to test on a human subject. It was almost to fruition I think. And... My parents brought me in. I grew up in the lab." You sighed. "I wonder if they're even my real parents... What if..." You trailed off, the suspicions had clearly been weighing in your head for a long time. "...Never mind. That doesn't matter anymore. Anyways, one of the vials they gave me apparently wasn't the correct one. I started absorbing the poison in my body, almost like a storage box. No one realised at first."

"...Something happened, huh?" He said, picking up on your choice of words.

"...Yeah, they gave me some particularly strong poison or something to test out how my body would respond to the antidote they prepared. They didn't anticipate that I'd be able to absorb it alongside with the antidote." You let out something of a dry laugh. "That... was the last time I ever touched my mother. They cleared me to leave and I went up to her to say hi. She... collapsed on the ground, convulsing seconds later. After that, no one approached me without hazmat suits again. They quickly stopped working, after something else happened and they fled. My father was the last to go."

"...And that's when he gave you the instruction to stay until the level of toxins were acceptable?" He asked for confirmation. To which you nodded at him.

...Seeing everything fall into place has never felt so unsatisfying to him before.

He gave you a measured nod, his eyes never leaving the sight of your hunched over figure. "...So he sends you money to keep you somewhat alive?"

"...I don't know if he knows if I'm still alive." You shook your head. "Hell, I don't know if he's still alive himself. It's been... years. I only have the bank transactions from him as m only form as contact. I... still don't know if I killed my mother or if she's recovering somewhere."

He let out a quiet curse under his breath, leaning his arm against the window as you continued speaking.

They lived like this for years. Years.

"...I know what that place is, Zombieman." You say, your nails pressing tight against your skin, digging in. "I didn't want to admit it."

"...A prison?" He tried guessing when you didn't speak for a while, only to be met with a humourless laugh.

"Coffin. It's a coffin for me. I was born into a live burial - I'll live and die there." You say, your voice completely monotone. It was like a reporter going about the facts of the day. "The furthest place I've been from here. This... forest. And just by going once, I ruined the place. I can't just... leave. This was already a mistake."

He listened to you, watching the way you clutched yourself for some sort of support. He stayed quiet, examining your features carefully. Nothing on his corkboard prepared him for this - but perhaps his own personal experience of being on the other side could help.

He slowly forms the thoughts in his head - there wasn't much he could remember when he first left the lab he had escaped from, but he tried his best to gather what he could. What would have comforted him best? Well, probably the death of Dr Genus.

It was just a tad too slow - you had began speaking again.

"...When are you going to end me?"

He turned his head over to you, too quickly. "What?"

"You found the source of the poison." You say, leaning over to him from your seat. His breath hitched as you got closer. "You've known for a while, haven't you? So when are you going to do it? In my sleep? With a gun? Or an axe?"

It probably doesn't help, but at the mention of his weapons his eyes find their way over to their positions. "...I'm not going to murder you." He says, but didn't get up. He let you look down at him from where you were - it was probably the little bit of power you still had over him in your eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I made that crow die." You state, your retort coming back far too fast. "You saw me. One touch from me killed it. It was barely even a few seconds."

"...That doesn't warrant the death penalty." He sighs. "Nothing you've done deserves punishment of any kind, it's not your fault. None of it."

You stared at him with an unreadable expression on your face, he struggled to place what you were feeling at the moment despite it being the most vital time for him to be able to. "...I have a question," you say, almost reluctant to interrupt him. "If there was something that could only cause harm, why keep it?"

He doesn't given himself much time to think of his answer, knowing that the longer he took the more insincere he would sound to you. "I know many people who's only speciality is violence." He starts out, leaning a little closer to you as you took a step back from him, giving him more space. "...We call them heroes. Or monsters, depending on their intentions."

"...Are you one of these people?" You ask, your words feeling heavier than he expected for such a short question.

"I'd say so." He responded, his voice flat as he continued speaking. "...But a lot of people suspect me as a monster too. "

"...You're more than that." You said, tilting your head at him with scornful befuddlement. You looked upset, but not at him.

"Aren't you the same?" He mirrored the simple question to you.

There's silence from you, until he hears a small sniffle and you bring up one hand to wipe at your eyes. He's frozen solid for a second until he reaches over to a box of tissues nearby and offered it to you.

"No..." You shook your head. "No thanks, my tears will just melt it... Tried it, trust me..."

"...Yeah, that's what tissues tend to do in liquid long enough." He cracked the dry joke, trying to lighten your mood and still offering the box to you, just slightly further away.

"...No, they're..." You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shaky sigh as you forced yourself to bite back the tears. "My tears are corrosive. Highly corrosive."

"...Huh." He said, putting the box aside and stood up. "Would you like my coat instead?"

"...Why on Earth would I want that?" You say, the last of the tears running down your face as you stopped wiping it with your hands.

"...It's work clothes, I can get these replaced for basically free. It's cheaper than those tissues." He shrugged, trying to make another attempt to cheer you up seeing that you had stopped at this point. They were more stressed tears than anything, so your crying wouldn't have lasted long anyways.

You blinked at him before letting out a laugh, "no, no... It's okay... I don't want to accidentally hurt you. I'm fine now anyways."

"Mhm." He nodded, watching you sit back down on your seat. "...You know, I have a really, really smart colleague. He might be able to help you leave if you want."

"...Really?"

"He's the smartest person I know. And I've been kicking around for a while." He states a chuckle on his lips as he spoke. The only other person he could think of being close to Child Emperor was Dr Genus. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd let him anywhere near you.

"...Do you think he'd be willing to help?" You ask, the lilt of your voice going up a little higher, a sense of hopefulness leaking into your tone. "Or wait, would he be safe? I don't want to hurt him by accident..."

He nodded at your concerns as you spoke. "I've seen him analyse venomous monsters during the heat of battle and create antibodies on the fly. I think there's a strong chance."

"...Wow, he sounds really smart. Is he a hero like you?"

"Yes," he nodded, something you'd describe as pride adorned his features. "He's more of a hero than me, though. I could learn a lot from him."

"...I think you're far more of one than you think you are."

He's silent, staring back into your eyes. It takes the both of you a moment before either speaks. His voice breaks the silence gently, his words slow and purposeful as he spoke.

"...I think we should get going soon. We need to catch that train."

#zombieman #zombieman x reader #one punch man #opm x reader #OtterlyFoolishWritings #someone who can't die + someone that kills everyone they touch = love story #or at least a potentially funny dynamic imo #tbh i feel like I could write a (short) multi-chapter fic off this idea but I Probably Won't because I have issues with Time Management #other running thoughts are that I wanted to write more about MC's past #I feel like they could be very fun to write and then delve into with ZM as he gets to work sniffing shit out #But I wanted to keep the “”vibe“” of mystery even if you knew all the plot twists from the summary before hand #x reader

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