Random Thing But I Realized It Might Be Helpful For Some People So Uh. Theres This Thingy Where You Can

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

I FOUND IT GUYS I SPENT HALF AN HOUR LOOKING FOR THIS VIDEO AND ITS HERE

doganronpa 👀

Made a Dog!Mondo for @plumb1tes’ Dog!Taka :D

third pic.. top surgery scars.. nb n bi pin imma die peaceful now

Inogentan week stuff I forgot to post here!!

AI disturbance overlays for those who don't have Ibis paint premium. found them on tiktok

ANDY—

GOD FUCKIN DAMNIT ANDY

nice.

(/ω＼) R.I.P

Limits of the Human Body

Body Heat = 107.6 F

Cold Water = 40 F

Hot Air = 300 F

High Altitude = 15,000 ft

Starvation = 45 days

Diving Depth = 282 ft

Lack of Oxygen = 11 minutes

Blood Loss = 40%

Dehydration = 7 days

????????? ? ? ??

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

GFJFUGKDUDOGHZKDHFJAHSKSHGJSH

W H A T

EVERYONE!!!

WE'RE GETTING A NEW SEASON OF HETALIA NEXT YEAR!!!

i have a very vivid thought rn an i need to say it before i explode

v1 taking one of its coins, drilling a lil hole in it and using a random cord it found (or maybe some of its own wires) to turn it into a necklace im jusouuughshbdhdh

Machines are possessive by nature. Fuel. Parts. Information. If something can be taken and owned, then it will be. And it will be guarded jealously.

Or maybe that's just V1. It doesn't care enough to find out. In rare moments of self reflection, it recognizes its own selfishness. Such a thing has no moral weight to it. If it wants something and is strong enough to take it, then it will. And if it's not strong enough, then it will become so. There is no reason, internal or otherwise, that it should not have whatever it wants.

Despite its bottomless greed and vicious possessiveness, V1 doesn't keep things for very long. Fuel is collected and used. Parts are installed and tested, and discarded when something better is found. Information is gathered, analyzed, and deleted. It claims any land it sees as its territory, clears it with appropriately glorious violence, and walks away as soon as it is finished.

It takes everything, and throws it all away.

It has never cared to keep anything.

And then it met Gabriel.

It's never wanted something that could walk away before. It doesn't know how to handle the fact that Gabriel can just leave.

It could kill him, and then he couldn't leave. But it doesn't want Gabriel's corpse. It could break his legs. But it doesn't want a maimed Gabriel.

In the moments after their spars, after it's beaten him and bled him and taken him, it watches.

It watches him put his armor back on, watches him cover the marks it gave him with the armor of Heaven, and feels in ways it never has before.

Machines are possessive by nature. And V1 is furious.

It doesn't know how to correct this wrong.

It likes when there's proof of its claim. When Gabriel calls out its name, loud and unabashed. When its fluid is dripping from him and he doesn't try to cover himself. When the shape of its hands are printed across his skin in blood and bruises.

It likes owning him. It likes when others know it owns him.

(Hell is empty. No one is left to see its claim. It does not care.)

V1 focuses their attacks on his back and belly. On the strip of thigh between skirt and armor. On his neck and the hint of collarbone above his chestpiece. It leaves marks that can't be covered, and it feels better for a time.

But Gabriel heals fast, and it is even angrier than before.

It needs something that can't be covered.

It needs something that won't fade.

It considers branding him, its name burned into his flesh like livestock. But the thought feels wrong. It doesn't want to change its Gabriel, even so superficially. V1 doubts he would let it anyway.

In a moment after their usual violent romp, things are quiet. It sits atop his lap and traces the claw marks on his chest, up to his throat. It is gentle, as gentle as something like it can ever be. It feels wrong. It feels right.

He doesn't stop it. It circles his neck with fingers still dripping his blood. Gentle. So gentle.

It feels his pulse. It feels his breath catch.

It wonders if he knows how much they want to keep him. If he knows they want to snap his neck so he can't leave ever again.

Metal hands fall away. Gabriel breathes again.

It takes him again. Slowly. Softly.

Gentle.

And it stares at the ring of blood around his throat.

There is no such thing as ‘extra wiring’ in a highly efficient killing machine. There is certainly not several inches of it. But the thought of Gabriel wearing anything that came from something else was so infuriating that V1 dismisses the option entirely.

It had considered either of its extra arms. The parts are its own. It had touched him with these hands, had marked him with them. And yet, the thought is just as repulsive. It tossed it away.

V1 does not have any extra wiring. It does not care. It pulls at the cables in its thigh until something comes loose and only distantly notes that it can still walk.

It is a red wire. The choice was not intentional, but it is fitting. V1 stores it away and waits for the right time.

They spar again. With Gabriel pinned on his belly, V1 lowers the nail gun until the barrel is right beside his cheek.

He does not breathe. V1 fires into the ground.

Slowly, with enough purpose that it knows he is watching, it pulls the nail from the stone it is buried in– and the coin it pierced right through.

Leaning over his prone body, arms stretched over his head, V1 pries the coin loose. The nail falls away. The echo of it hitting the ground lasts forever.

The weight of Gabriel's gaze burns. He never looks away.

It feeds the wire through the coin. The pendant dangles from its fingers.

It slips a second hand under his chin and he does not resist as it lifts his head. It ties the wire around his throat, as loose as it can bear. The wire still digs into his skin. If V1 had its way, it would pull until it cut down to his very spine.

He doesn't breathe until it drops his head again.

And when he sits up with its irrefutable claim hanging around his neck, V1’s possessive nature purrs.

He runs his fingers over the trinket with all the reverence of a man reborn.

He whispers ‘thank you,’ and the fury finally abates.