fo4 male companions: friendly militia leader with severe trauma, simpleton giant interested in shakespeare, charismatic mercenary who appeared as a kid in fo3, cold merciless android learning how to feel, suicidal anarchist zombie, self-loathing android detective with pre-war human memories, wisecracking faceless secret agent, brotherhood loyalist with a dark secret
fo4 female companions: normal girl i can fuck, french maid android i can fuck, punk drug addict i can “fix” and then fuck
It had been exhausting as far as Skool could go. Irkens hardly even got tired, but having to endure the painstaking and tedious hours of meaningless jabber and the Dib was almost impossible to bear. For once Zim just enjoyed the silence as he reclined on the couch in the dark. It was so quiet, far too quiet.
“HI-YAA!” Zim yelped and jolted upwards as the tranquil silence was shattered by a certain robot that bounced out of nowhere onto the floor, striking out his metal feet. “Take that, evil piggy zombies!” The android giggled loudly.
“What are you doing?” Zim snapped. “And can you do it in another room? I’m exhausted.”
GIR turned to him with a blissful little grin. “Today there was this neat tv show! It showed something called….um, I think it was called Marshmallow Arts! It’s a way the humans fight! And I’m gonna fight INVISIBLE PIGGY ZOMBIES!” He went back to kicking in the air.
Zim rolled his eyes. “Peh!” he scoffed. “Hyu-mans and their PATHETIC Marshmallow Arts! Why the name just reeks of stupidity! You won’t get anywhere by trying their weak techniques, GIR!” He smirked. “Now Irken combat, that’s something that you could benefit from learning!” He could turn the young little bot into a warrior worth the Irken name. “Get up here!”
GIR allowed himself to be tugged up onto the couch and bounced up and down once Zim stood up on the cushion.
“Always be on your guard,” the irken instructed, standing straight. “Don’t just flail your legs like an idiot.” He tapped the SIR unit’s feet with his own to nudge them into proper position. “For you,” he sneered. “I’ll go easy this time.” His foot struck out at the robot like a whip and within mere seconds GIR jumped out of range of the attack. Zim’s eyes widened as he looked around in confusion and was winded by a sudden metal foot in his stomach. “Oof! What the–?!”
He staggered and that gave GIR just enough time to leap onto him, effectively pinning his master to the cushion. For a moment Zim could just blink in shock, not fully registering the humiliation that he, an irken elite was just slaughtered by a robot mentally five years old. He looked down at the robot on his belly–the robot that was beaming at him adorably, eager for praise.
He wanted to hide in his chambers in shame, wondering how he could even face his race after this. A glare started to surface until he saw GIR’s smile. He was so proud of himself…
The irken’s mouth barely twitched. He couldn’t hide it, or how impressed he really was. He at least owed him this. “….Good work GIR.”
Domestic situations with these two are the best, I missed drawing them so much. (Anyone that’s watched me long ago knows my obsession with this relationship.)