#and the red goggles with hank & doc

[kentamin3]

i just think they're neat

[datauthorress]

Hank J. Wimbleton x Reader [R] - Part 1

You had been a normal grunt living in the heart of Nevada, minding your own business and in moments, your life changed forever. A group of robbers had broken into the house that you and your family were having a family party in and gunned down two of your family members before moving onto the rest of them. They tortured your parents, one of them taking your younger sister into another bedroom and you could hear her begging and crying from the other room. You struggled, but one of the robbers had pinned you down with his body weight, grumbling about how you “weren’t pretty enough for him to get hard”.

You were utterly disgusted, angry and completely terrified.

You were tortured also. A robber broke your leg, tore your eye right out of the socket and used his knife to slash across your lips to leave a bloody, painful cut. You could only watch as your family members were shot to death, their corpses surrounding the first floor of the house.

You had been shot in the side, but the robbers ignored you and poured gasoline all over the house, before lighting a match and throwing it into the puddle of gas. As soon as they left, you immediately fought to get up.

It hurt. It was so fucking painful that you considered giving up. But once you had made it to the door, you rolled onto the grass and coughed harshly, hacking up the smoke that had been forced into your lungs.

You managed to stand up with difficulty, leaning heavily on one of the cars as you watched the house, your home, burn. Everyone you knew, everything you knew, was gone in the blink of an eye.

There was nothing left to even say goodbye to.

So, with nothing else to do, you began walking down the desolate road, limping and nearly collapsing with each step you took.

By the time dawn came, you were so exhausted that all it took was one more step before you stumbled and collapsed onto the warm pavement. Your breathing was shallow, blood seeping from your wounds to form a small puddle underneath your small frame.

You knew you were going to die here.

As your eyes began to close, you heard the distant sound of a car engine coming down the road. They were probably going to run you over, end your suffering that way. But much to your surprise, you heard the car stop and heavy footsteps approached your weak body. You managed to glance up with blurry vision, seeing the frame of a very large man wearing bright red goggles. It was the last thing you saw before passing out, unaware of the man reaching down for you.

When you woke up, you were greeted with a man who called himself 2BDamned, or ‘Doc’ as the others called him. He was the medic of the group. He explained that your leg was broken, and you were blind in your right eye due to it being snatched out. He offered to replace your missing eye with a cybernetic one and you agreed.

Cue about six weeks later, you were back on your feet and training. You were slim and on the smaller side, making you able to move quickly and dodge attacks that might’ve sent you flying. Your cybernetic eye was particularly useful, as you could hone in on enemies and predict their movements, as well as see through solid surfaces.

You were usually partnered up with Hank, the man who had picked you up from the road and convinced Doc to heal you. You don’t know why he had stopped that day, but you were thankful and joined the cause to defeat the A.A.H.W.

But revenge was still fresh in your mind and the only thing you wanted to do was sink your knife deep into those bastards’ throats.

[docsbestkissedoperative]

Short 2Bmos fic because I need to be unwell about these two

Their reunion post-Dedmos adventure...

(Includes mentions of canon-typical violence!)

Now on A03!

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

When Doc pulls his stone covered body out of Hell and back into Nevada, Deimos was sure the guy was pissed off at him and his...hostile entourage.

Saving Hank was undoubtedly a tricky mission, the kind that would have the AAHW breathing down his and Sanford's back the moment they piece together their intentions, and Doc had almost begged them to be careful but Deimos still managed to get himself killed. One moment he lets his guard down to press the right buttons to bring Hank back, and the next he's wide eyed and plummeting onto the ground, bullet holes riddling his back and his own blood pooling underneath him. He doesn't even process those shots before the next barrage snuffs him out completely.

What follows is, for lack of a better term, a hellish dive into The Other Place. If he thought having to watch his back and getting patched up every mission was a headache, then what he had just experienced was like if someone bashed his head in until it was nothing but gore.

(Of course, that would be less painful than what he really went through.)

"God damn it, Deimos." Is the first thing he hears Doc say to him moments after he tumbles out of the ground, syringe in hand and his back turned to face the shitheads that followed Deimos out of Hell and back to Nevada. The man sounded angry beyond belief, and his goggles only helped accentuate that rage. If he had paid any more attention, Deimos was sure he would have seen the way his fists violently shook, too.

It hardly took any of Deimos' newfound strength to turn the AAHW goons that followed him into a fine red paste on the ground, something that appeared to not even startle Doc, as if he had expected it the entire time. Deimos trusts that Doc would have already figured out that the rocks covering his body weren't just cosmetic.

When the deed is done, he turns to the not-doctor to ask him what he missed, but the venom in Doc's expression hasn't lessened in the least bit. Deimos feels himself shrink in a bit.

"Everything...alright...Doc?" He manages to get out.

The seconds of silence that passed between them was enough to make Deimos start to break into a sweat, but Doc eventually responds by storming up to him, grabbing him by the front of his hood, and squeezing him so tight that it could be mistaken for an attempt to crush him rather than hug him.

Either would have completely stunned him. Doc was never the affectionate type. He hated PDA, insisting that the enemy would take advantage of whatever they could, and the destruction of the relationship between the ones they've been trying to kill would be too good to ignore. Later on, he admitted he just wasn't as keen on physical touch. His way of showing he cared was in the way he gathered information for them to guarantee full preparedness, how he sewed them all back together after a rough mission, how he trusted them to return to HQ after all was said and done.

And Deimos completely shattered him when he died in the few seconds he was separated from Sanford.

Deimos misunderstood. Doc wasn't angry, he was scared, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to admit that out loud.

How many times had Hank died and they were left powerless to do anything about it? How many times did he have to be revived with parts of him missing and doomed to never come back? How many times did he have to endure The Other Place until they could rescue him? At least they all knew he could endure it, but could Deimos? As strong as he wants to see himself be, he knows Hank is a powerhouse compared to him.

Slowly, Deimos hugs him back, careful not to hold too tightly in case the rocks dug into his partner, "Hey, I'm...hm." What is he supposed to say? I'm sorry? I'm okay? He doubts either of those would be enough.

Doc sinks his face further into Deimos' shoulder, maneuvering it past the stone to make himself more comfortable, a small huff as his only acknowledgement.

"Idiot." He says after more silence.

"I know." Deimos answers.

"Don't get yourself killed again."

"You got it, Doc."

"We still need to find Hank and Sanford."

"Yeah, we do."

"..."

"...You can still hold on to me right now, if you want to."

Another huff of acknowledgement.

Deimos holds him tighter.

[gazingstarsabove]

madness combat headcanons pt. 2!!

A few more headcanons for the gang! (this is prolly gonna be a series btw)

•I don't think I've mentioned this in the previous one but I really think Doc has a sweet tooth.

•I know Jeb worked as some sort of bodyguard for Sheriff once, and the Sheriff had probably grown attached to the man ever since.

•While driving to a mission Sanford threw Deimos' cigarette pack out the window and Deimos cried throughout the whole drive.

•I'm sure Director Phobos uses his agents as an arm rest while standing.

•Doc has one of the most shittiest handwritings.

•Sanford has those loud laughs that'll you probably hear from the 1st floor up to the 3rd.

•Hank refuses to take off his head gear, like his mask, his bandana, his goggles and all that. Only when Doc's patching him up, sorry bae but the goggles stay on during s(ex)howering

•Tricky would most definitely make references of slaughter time when on a killing spree.

•Director Phobos would gossip with Auditor, and the other employers would join in too. Especially Stygian.

•I know Jeb wears sunglasses but PLEASE agree with me he has contacts in his pretty red marbles, I just know that man can't see SHIT

•The Sheriff's southern accent would thicken when he gets flustered

[fluffydeoxys]

The bit you said about how "red in Nevada symbolises life (and death), and the Other Place; and how Zero, Hank and 2BD all have very strong ties to these concepts, so reds are prominently featured in their designs in different ways" got me thinking

Your Doc design mainly has red in the goggles and the patches, which makes me think along the lines of him seeing death all around (goggles) but also stopping it/preserving life (patches) if that makes sense? idk. Can't word too well today. He patches together a lot of things actually now that I think about it. His clothes. Hank. Zero. The world. Himself. Jeb that one time

Also with Doc being the human out of the trio. Something about how he patches the world together even though he's not as powerful as hankzero. He doesn't have the powers of the people around him (Hank, Zero, Maker) but hell if he won't find a way to patch over that too

And for zero the red is the bandana, visible under al the layers. Something something a bleeding heart protected by layers of distancing herself from the world. And the weathered red tassels(???? Is that what they're called?? The ends of the bandana. The internet won't tell me if they have a proper name) unraveling behind her. There's definitely something symbolic there I just can't put my finger on it

Feel free to completely ignore btw 👍 this is just me coming up with random stuff on the spot. I heart symbolism

-💻🌌

Aw don't be silly, I wouldn't ignore it! I'm a very big fan of symbolism (I have a personal list of all the things I have representing Zero, Hank and 2BD) and I try to intertwine it in my designs. Sometimes it helps to convey feelings or a magnitude/scale of something that I couldn't otherwise; especially relevant for Hank and Zero, who really could not be described in "normal" terms or ways.

Thank you for the ask!! I missed answering these, they're fun. I like thinking and questioning and answering. Helps me get those few inches closer to "the answer."

Rest of it under the cut cus it's looooong.

That's a neat idea! Hank is the stronger proponent of this idea, being the true eyes of death, bleeding, swallowing life whole with not even a twinge of "humanity" behind its eyes, though not to imply it is without thought, or without a certain kind of "humanity". Zero kind of also loosely follows this, but it's... different. Her eye is the Maker's star, but it is the blood red of this world. I used to use the line "now Nevada rests in the sole eye in their face", and I think that still holds true. Even in her magic, her fire, Nevada's hues are part of her being, even if she is merely a sort of vessel.

2BD ... he is very deeply entrenched in this world, clearly understanding the nuances and complexities of its literal mechanisms, at times guided by the Maker to do so. Death is a part of him, but in a sense he controls it. He knows how to pull people back, knows how to fix them. I wouldn't say he plays with it, but he's certainly adjacent to that idea.

Yeah, the patching people thing was deliberate in that the idea of patching clothes was an extension of "fixing people", and nicely tied in with Doc striking me as the type wanting to be in control of as many factors/things as possible. Bit of a control freak. But as you say, he's not as 'powerful' as HankZero, but undeniably he keeps their worlds spinning. Not necessarily just pulling them back every time, but his existence ended up bringing them "together", somewhat.

If it was just Hank and Zero, there would be no Nevada.

I like that interpretation of a bleeding heart! In a way, she lives in silent mourning for the way Nevada is. The bandanna over her eyes symbolic of mayhaps ignorance, or innocence. Justice is blind, or something like that.

And yep, I call em tassels! They're direct parallels to Hank. Truthfully I made Zero before I had any true idea of what her story would be, so some elements are yet to have "meaning". Coherently, as a complete design, Zero still holds strong to certain ideas in my mind so I'm not too fussed, but I am definitely trying to interject meaning into each piece of her. (I've used her tassels as representations of "red strings of fate" before, or sometimes "veins" of the world. Red rivers, life flowing back to her.)

As an example, I think its interesting that her clothes are very wanderer-esque, with little cloth, plating or metal-based protection. Someone who looks like she's walked the wastes for a thousand lifetimes. She's very much a "desert wasteland" character, funnily enough. Which makes sense considering her main inspirations. I mean, hell you could say the lacking personal history and details to her design is indicative of how she was "fabricated" into Nevada, much like Hank. They look like certain ideas, but in reality are a lot more than what they let on.

I'm still trying to more confidently and coherently connect all the pieces together, but its slow-going. Zero means a great deal to me, so I want to try my very hardest.

[ms-scarletwings]

Took longer than expected to hunt and pin down the most haunting soundtrack from MPN2 but now that I have…. Goddamn.

I really mean… this is bone chilling to me, in context. Down to the title. Out of everything Locknar contributed to this game it sticks out like a gangrenous thumb. Here we had this collection of off the wall energy Drum’n Bass, pumped up electronic smacks that bopped you through every step of wanton mayhem and carnage, and then, completely out of left field, this was the ambience backdropping the final fight of the whole adventure.

Most impactful to me probably because I feel how it highlights something incredibly tragic about Hank J Wimbleton himself, as I listen to the theme of his “betrayal”.

Not in a way that makes you feel pity for him, but something closer to horror? Horror at knowing that maybe in another time and place there was an otherwise unremarkable man behind those goggles. That there is still a man now, with humor and personality and feelings and wants like anything else harboring a soul, but sure as can be not a shred of mercy. He’s not a numb shell, but actually so disturbingly full of bloodthirst, of ruthlessness and arrogance. It’s almost easy to forget how much anger he can also have when he communicates the bulk of it through action alone.

You know that saying about how the dog that doesn’t bark should be feared so much more than the one that does? The scariness of Hank is the scariness of the dog that will lunge without a single sound of warning, save than a heart-stoppingly quiet stare through you.

There’s some ungraspable method to his madness that makes him all the more uncanny for it, too. He will run a chainsaw through a fleeing, unarmed opponent no hesitation, but he won’t bring himself to jump a toll booth arm he could go out of his way to raise. He’d slaughter his only allies in cold blood, but would take a pause to pat a kitten if he encountered one. We know he wanted to pursue hobbies, that he’s dabbled in real estate, but the path of a neverending cycle of dealing & receiving death comes most natural to him, and he has no strong enough interest in fighting that destiny.

You’d look into a monster like that and think the worst thing would be seeing emptiness. Hank is scary because you’d look into his gaze and instead find a solid pool of red that blocks you from seeing whatever may be further down. He doesn’t even hide a damn thing, really, people just don’t want to believe their own eyes. They want to think if anyone were that cold blooded and dangerous they couldn’t be the same person that works with 2bdamned and the goals of Status Quo, that they wouldn’t proactively protect Sanford in a fight and be capable of the calm, even goofy moments between storms. That kind of lethality is much more comfortable to be around if you can imagine its only being directed at those who deserve it or brought it upon themselves.

For better or worse, Hank isn’t even the kind to take advantage of this; he just simply is what he is without a single shit to give for the reaction it gets him. He’s no hero, he’s no megalomaniac, he’s definitely not a showman like Tricky. It’s no performance and it’s no secret behind a facade: this is the most wanted, deadly person in Nevada- borderline a force of nature you can avoid, you can work with, but you cannot stop and you cannot appeal to some sympathetic vein or better nature inside of it. Doc likely understands this entirely. Part of the entire reason he employs Hank rather than become another one of the failed lineup of his would-be assassins is because he keeps score, and every army that has ever stood in the way of that walking disaster hasn’t succeeded.

And maybe he has seemed to prove it is the smarter bet to make, but in this moment here came our reminder that it’s still a gamble of its own. There is logic and consistency to how Hank ticks. He still is the same guy we came all this way with, all the fun and hijinks included, but in this moment not a single second of it is going to matter. And in this moment your only surprise was staring down the same madness from the other side of the barrel. For years we beloved the protagonist from every other angle as the audience, but what, did we ever wonder, have the victims always seen, looking back at them face to face?

Nothing but a murderer.

[oh-mother-fucket]

*..STARS..*

A fic in which Hank has a hyperfixation.

Featuring: Hank, Hank's illiteracy, 2BDamned, and Deimos

====

If you looked up at a Nevadean night sky, you wouldn’t see stars. No one really knew what a star was, at least outside of the five-pointed ones that went on the doors of the Slaughter Time contestants’ rooms.

No, instead of stars, you’d see a big black void. That’s it. Depending on the time of night, it might be more red, but it wouldn’t change besides that.

When Hank was little– about five or six– he was told that once upon a time, there were tiny pinpricks of glittering light speckled across the night sky. They used to believe it, until he turned fifteen and had bigger things to worry about.

Hank didn’t think about those old myths anymore. They were about as inconsequential to them as Santa Claus would be to a middle-aged childless man. After all, Hank had things to do, fun to have, people to kill. No time to waste on an old wives’ tale.

It was nighttime when 2BDAMNED sent Hank a text. Hank was staring up at the sky, so he didn’t notice he was getting messages until they realized their phone was buzzing. They looked at the previews on his screen. 

“Wimbleton,” the latest one read, “call me now.”

More than a tad amused at the order, Hank scoffed. He looked back up at the sky.

Nothing. Like always. Hank could pretend that he saw glints of light from the darkness above, but pretending could only get him so far.

Their phone began to ring. Chuckling, they picked it up and hit “answer”.

“Hank J. Wimbleton, you’d best have a good reason for not–”

“Sky.” Hank shrugged. “Lookin’.” He didn’t feel like talking much, and in any case, he knew his short answer would piss Doc off– which was their goal.

A loud sigh from Doc. “And I thought I was hard to deal with…” A short pause before he started talking again. “Deimos is asking me about shit I think you’d know about. He’ll probably be blowing up your phone once he gets home.”

Hank tensed up, irritation seeping into them. “Not gonna,” he growled lowly. They hung up the phone and went back to looking at the sky.

…The phone rang again.

Goddamnit. Hank picked it up. “Not gonna.”

“Wimbleton, hang up on me again and I’ll rearrange your teeth.” Doc sighed. “I know he can be… difficult to deal with, for someone like you.”

Hank scoffed. “To say the least,” he remarked.

“Uh-huh, yeah, whatever. I don’t care anymore. Just answer his questions or you’ll be receiving an extra knuckle, and not in the mail.” Doc hung up, leaving Hank in silence again.

If there was anyone, anyone at all that Hank would say he had strong negative feelings about– well, it would be Tricky, but Deimos came in close second.

Just the way he was ticked Hank off. That dumbass outfit, his fidgety nature, his raspy voice–

Ugh. Made Hank pissed just thinking about it.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and went inside. The building was attached to several others– an apartment complex, was it called? Hank preferred the term “chain house”.

The interior looked nothing like the exterior. Shockingly, Hank had put in the effort to spruce up the place ever since he claimed it as his hiding place. It didn’t have a carpet– Hank couldn’t afford one– but it did have a red rug in the living room. 

They collapsed onto the beat-up couch and sighed. Deimos would call any minute now, and Hank was dreading it.

Any minute now…

Bzzt. There it was.

Hank picked up the phone, and was immediately greeted by Deimos’s voice. “Hey Hank! Had some questions I thought you might like to answer.” The man laughed. Hank could practically smell his smoky breath.

“Hit me.” Hank leaned back, getting comfy on the couch. Knowing Deimos, this would be a while. He took off his goggles, putting them on the coffee table.

Deimos chuckled. “Thanks, pal! Knew you’d let me bother ya.”

A scoff escaped from Hank. Let you? Yeah, whatever makes you happy.

“So, like, you’re old,” Deimos began. “You ever seen stars?”

What a strange question. “Not sure what my age has to do with my propensity to get lightheaded,” Hank replied curtly. He brought his finger to the “end call” button, but stopped when Deimos clarified.

“I meant like, in the sky. You ever see those?”

Hank paused. He hadn’t thought about stars… in a long time. “Haven’t.” He hung up.

The phone started ringing again soon after, but Hank tried to ignore it. What made him curious about stars? Hank wondered. It’s not like Deimos was ever interested in anything that wasn’t guns or eating or pissing him off. How strange of him to ask about that.

Stars weren’t ever something Hank could remember dwelling on. Maybe when he was first told about them, he might have obsessed a bit, but they couldn’t recall.

The phone stopped ringing after a few minutes, but Hank’s head was still buzzing. Stars. I wonder if they ever did exist. They laid back on the couch, trying to ignore the thought. It wasn’t important, and besides, Deimos would forget in a few hours. And so would they, hopefully.

~ ~ ~

The sound of metal tearing through flesh was like music to Hank’s ears, a brief reprieve from thoughts about that old myth.

Gunshots sounded through the room. “Heads up!” Cried Deimos, a bit late. Hank ducked just in time to get the top of his head grazed by a bullet, and one lodged itself in his shoulder. They hissed in pain, ignoring the thump of the bodies in front of him and snapping his head to glare daggers at Deimos.

Deimos merely chuckled. “Be faster next time!” he exclaimed. He ran past Hank and grabbed one of the agents the pair were slaughtering, pulling them close and shooting them point blank in the face.

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Hank stood up and turned to take care of the remaining agents on his side of the room. He pounced on one, beating their face into a pulp, until he was grabbed by another agent. 

They growled, falling limp and forcing the agent to buckle under their dead weight, then got up and stomped the agent’s head in. He grabbed a knife off the agent and pounced again, tackling a nearby agent and slitting their throat.

If Hank could still smile, he would probably laugh.

He nearly jumped feeling someone grab their arm, and reached around to throw the person over their shoulder. “Yeowch!” Deimos yelped, hitting the ground hard. Hank chuckled as Deimos got up, glaring. “Dude, it’s just me!”

“Serves you right,” Hank replied. Deimos flipped them off with a scowl.

Hank looked around, surveying the carnage. Not a single agent even twitched. He sighed, the adrenaline slowly wearing off and giving way to exhaustion. Their chest heaving, they began to walk to the door.

Deimos sprinted up to them, grabbing their arm. “Woah woah woah man, we can’t leave yet!” He tried to tug Hank back, but they refused to budge. Deimos sighed. “We gotta double tap! Y’know… make sure everyone’s dead and that.”

Oh, right. How did Hank forget that? He’s normally eager to do a second sweep for survivors. They shook their head. Probably won’t happen again.

They yanked Deimos’s gun from him– briefly admiring the make, it looked well cared for– and started firing at the corpses with total abandon. 

Blood spurted from the bullet wounds, but not a soul cried out. A shame, really.

“There,” said Hank. For some reason, he didn’t feel the same satisfaction they usually did. Maybe something was weighing on their mind.

… Something like stars.

God damn it. There it is again. They’d been thinking about those damn things all week, and Deimos had been pestering him about it near-constantly through text. He’d hoped that this mission would get his mind off it, but alas, that appeared not to be the case.

“Yo, Nevada to Hank, you there?”

Hank stiffened, suddenly noticing that Deimos was waving his hand in front of them. Hank shoved Deimos, a bit irritated. “Next room. You.” He dropped the gun into Deimos’s arms and went to lean against the wall, much to the smaller man’s confusion.

Deimos stood silent, flabbergasted for a few moments. “Seriously?” he finally exclaimed. “Yer normally all over this, dude!”

A simple shrug was Hank’s response. He hoped Deimos would drop it and leave to check the rest of the facility. Hank just wanted to be alone with their thoughts, for once.

Deimos growled. “You better not be plannin’ on leavin’ the whole rest o’ the place t’ me!” He took a step towards Hank, teeth bared. Hank stared.

The two stood silently, glaring daggers at each other for a few minutes. The tension was thick. If it were a person, Hank would have a hard time cutting it.

Finally, Hank decided to make a move. They reckoned that if they didn’t, Deimos would just stand there forever. Probably start whining at them too.

Hank unsheathed a knife he kept in a case on his back– it was a huge hunting knife, almost as big as a particularly small sword. He held it up at Deimos threateningly. “Go clear.”

The threat was obvious– and Deimos was keenly aware that Hank wasn’t bluffing. With an angry grumble, Deimos left the room.

Leaving Hank alone to think.

He wondered if he ever made drawings of stars, when he was little. He knew he’d never be able to retrieve any drawings, if they existed– he couldn’t remember bringing anything but what he was wearing at the time when he left Nexus City. 

Maybe he could make some drawings later today, when he got home… but Deimos would question him if he brought paper with him into the car, and besides, he didn’t have any crayons. He’d probably break them anyway.

Briefly, he pondered if stars ever existed. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was just a myth parents told children to keep them from losing hope or something. 

They probably didn’t exist, actually. Hank growled to himself. This is so stupid. They got up and made their way outside.

The thought was still in the back of his mind though, and for a small moment, he considered looking upwards. Perhaps tonight, they’d see a sky full of stars.

What a stupid thought. They shook their head and walked to the car, getting in the passenger seat to wait for Deimos.

A tiny bright dot glittered overhead.

~ ~ ~

So, it turns out, leaving your partner to do all the work was not a good idea.

Hank could hear Deimos’s snarling and whining pretty clearly even through the walls. The guy was loud.

Doc had run out of anesthesia, so he was using booze to keep Deimos suppressed. It wasn’t working very well. 

Deimos had probably run through the group’s only supply of beer by now– and if he hadn’t, it was probably because Doc had given up on trying to get the guy to pass out.

The shouting made Hank cover his ears. God, this was the worst.

He tried to let his mind wander, wanting to distract himself from the annoying ruckus.

And what better thought to think of than stars?

Hank was convinced at this point that stars were cursing him. Hell, he couldn’t even look at the sky without swearing he saw something glimmer! 

But he’d take thoughts of stars over Deimos screaming any day.

Were stars really that tiny? Maybe they were, and they were just really bright. Sort of like how a lightbulb in a dark room can still be seen from far away.

Maybe they were really hot, too. Making light for so long makes heat– Hank knew that much. If they were hot, they’d probably warm up Nevada super hot every night. But that didn’t make sense… maybe stars were actually super far away. Maybe there weren’t that many. Maybe he should write this down so he doesn’t end up thinking about this tangent again…

Hank got up from the couch and went to Doc’s room, grabbing a notepad. He tore out all the pages that had writing on them and grabbed a pen.

wat i no abowt stars

brit

smal maybe

hot

He paused. Was that it? He quickly scribbled one more thing down.

sparkly

Yeah, this all sounded about right. They stuffed the notepad in their pocket and went back to the couch. The loud pained noises had died down a bit, so they didn’t feel the need to cover their ears. Hopefully Doc was almost done, and hopefully the impending lecture wouldn’t be too long.

About an hour later, Hank realized that he was napping. Oops. He sat up and stretched, then paused.

There was a blanket draped over them. They quirked their head. Did Doc do that? Probably. It wasn’t like Deimos would, after all.

Hank threw off the blanket and looked around. He was surprised Doc hadn’t woken them up for a stern talking-to. Maybe the guy was busy. Not like Hank cared. If anything, this was just a chance for Hank to leave. Maybe he should’ve done that when Doc was working on Deimos, but whatever.

When Hank left Doc’s place through the hatch on the living room ceiling, they couldn’t help but look up. This was pretty normal– Hank tended to look where they were going, which in this case, was up. What wasn’t normal was what they saw.

Tiny pinpricks of light flickered in and out of vision, twinkling like… 

Like stars.

There weren’t many in the sky, just ten or maybe twenty. But the way Hank was enraptured with them, you’d think the sky was full of them.

Hank just stood there, his head poking out of the open hatch, staring at the sky. He wondered if the stars were marveling at the earth, too.

With his hands shaking wildly, Hank crawled out of Doc’s bunker. They laid down on the ground, staring up at the stars. He wished so badly that he could smile.

The air around them was surprisingly cool. I guess stars aren’t that hot after all. Of course, they didn’t mind. 

It was hard to stay still, if their trembling hands was any indication. They wanted so badly to jump to their feet, to run around, to tear at something– but he felt like if he looked away, the stars wouldn’t be there when he looked back. He didn’t want to risk it.

Hank’s mind was racing– they really couldn’t help it. Here he was, laying under the stars… it was hard to believe. There were so many thoughts in his head. Is this a normal amount of stars? It’s so cool out– they must not make heat. I wonder how they light up… are they just so far away that I can’t feel the heat?

For a few minutes, he didn’t notice that the stars had begun to dim. But if there were twenty before, there must have been only fourteen now. I have to take a picture!

He took out his phone and quickly opened the camera. He stared. The stars didn’t look the same through the phone, but Hank didn’t want to waste time going to get an actual camera.

Click.

There it was. The stars, immortalized forever on Hank’s shitty phone.

Hank looked back at the sky, where only a few stars remained. They put down their phone and let his arms rest at his sides, watching as the stars faded into blackness.

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

hurt/comfort with female reader with Werewolf! Sanford?

reader has she/they pronouns

Pubby man :3

Werewolf!Sanford x Demigirl!reader

CW: mentions of painful transformation, reader gets hurt by accident

Scrolling down your feed today greeted you with posts and photos of both your ex boyfriend and ex best friend, mutual friends showering them with love and praise about their engagement, completely forgetting about how a year ago you'd caught them cheating together.

She was moved in, and you were evicted, a lifelong friendship down the drain, and a supposedly solid relationship of five years gone, bags packed and dumped outside with you.

Old scars ached again, tears filling your eyes despite how hard you tried to fight them. "She thought I actually loved her!" Ex bf laughed, his girl joining in. "They're so stupid! I mean really [Name], do you think someone like him would care for a nothing like you?"

It was dark, a light drizzle dampening your skin and suitcase, hands shaking from the winter chill and adrenaline pumping in your veins. Who could you even call right now? The two people you'd usually turn to were the ones who'd caused this agony.

A name popped up in your contacts, one you'd run with in the past for a brief period. Sanford, a man with a spotty past, but a heart of gold. It'd been a few years... Would he have the same number? Would he remember you? Would he even care?

You hit dial.

Your walk down memory lane was disrupted as the bed was weighed down, San flopping down next to you with a towel around his hips, and one around his lengthy locs. "Hey princess," He sported a wolfish grin, but it dropped when he saw you crying. "oh sweetie, what's wrong?"

He sat up and pulled you into his arms, even if you'd tried to resist, you doubted you could, his arms muscular from all the fighting and heaving lifting he did in his day-to-day. The smell of wet dog clung to him, part of his lycanthropy, no matter how hard he scrubbed or what scents he used, he'd always smell of wet dog out of the shower.

"It-it's been a year since it happened," He glanced and your phone, still on the photo featuring ex bestie's hand, showing off the stupid rock on her finger. Carefully he took your phone and set it down.

Over the past year, you'd rekindled your friendship with Ford, introducing you to his current company and friends. As different as you were to the team, they'd mostly accepted you with open arms, with the exception of the ever looming darkness named Hank. They still didn't seem to have warmed up to you.

"Why did you bring an outsider in? She looks weak, unable to pull their weight here." Hank grumbled in annoyance.

"Cause they're Ford's friend, you moody creep." Deimos rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. "A friend of Fordie's is a friend of mine, alright chiquita?"

Doc, the leader of the group, watched you carefully behind his red tinted goggles. "I'll the the risk and accept you on the grounds that Sanford trusts you. But make no mistake, if you cross us, you won't like what will happen."

Once or twice a month, the boys would shower after working, and head out at night which had confused you at first, until you'd come to realise these outings always lined up with full moons. You'd cornered Sanford about it once, and he folded, showing off a massive scar on his back, claws had raked down it and eternally changed his fate.

"Werewolf. Would've have figured there would be werewolves out here, but there's vampires and witches, and other occultist stuff." He shivered as you touched them, long since healed over, but still sensitive and tender to touch. "I accidentally turned Deimos into one, who bit Doc and turned him, and in turn he changed Hank."

Despite the four of them being werewolves, you'd never seen any of them in their wolfy forms, and the curiosity picked at your brain whenever you glanced the scars on San's back, the one on Dei's shoulder, Doc's wrist and Hank's throat.

"C-can you please stay with me tonight?" You sobbed into Sanford's chest, and he let out a long sad dog sigh.

"It's a full moon tonight princess." His golden eyes met yours. "It'd be incredibly dangerous."

"Please?"

He sighed again. "Changing isn't super fun to watch, you get used to the pain after a few turns, but the noises and movements of it can be disturbing. But I am worried about you, so I will stay tonight. But whatever happens, please know I'm not going to be in full control of myself. The animalistic side can be vicious, which is why we go outside."

Darkness fell, Deimos whined about taking Sanford out and Doc seemed unconvinced about leaving you alone with another wolf, but eventually the three left when Hank began groaning and falling onto his hands, a sign of incoming change.

"Hank's always the first to turn." Sanford was laying on his stomach while resting his head on your lap, wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. Why would he get dressed up to tear out of his clothes later?

"I'd say it's because Doc bit him in the throat so the wolf side hits hit brain faster, but it's much more likely they're so eager to hunt and tear that they kinda force it." He was helping distract you, and it was working fairly well.

"Does he grow fur or is he bald like he normally is?" You had to stifle a laugh imagining a hairless werewolf.

"He grows thick black fur, like his eyebrows. But it's kinda funny they get hair once or twice a month only to lose it in the morning." San chuffed before letting out a long groan and exhale. "It's starting to happen, princess."

His golden eyes met yours, his iris growing further into his eye, his pupils narrowing into fine points. "I don't want to scare you, are you really sure you want me here tonight?"

"I couldn't be scared of you Sanford. I... Like you too much to be scared." A loud snap came from his body, his skull began to reform, nose and lips pushing outwards and transforming into a snout.

Sanford snarled the whole time his body shifted, his bones cracking and reshaping to accommodate his wolf form. You tenderly supported his head on your lap as he writhed in pain, he raked his claws over your thigh by accident, leaving bloodied scratches.

A mixture of black and dark grey fur coated his body, his arms, legs, back and face black, while the rest was dark grey with black mixed in. He was beautiful, his pelt incredibly soft under your fingers. San's golden eyes opened, and he looked up to you, a mixture of wildness and familiarity in him.

His cold wet nose twitched, and he looked down at your leg, noticing the scratch he'd made. "Don't... worry about it." You mumbled softly, apprehensive that he'd turn vicious if you spoke too loud. Of course you loved and trusted him, but at the end of a day, he was a gigantic wolf, who could tear you apart.

He licked the wound, and it ached, before going numb, and you watched as the flesh slowly melded together, forming a bumpy scar. Wolf spit had a healing factor of some kind, interesting.

Sanford got up, stretching his full body, joints creaking and popping slightly as they settled into their new positions. He shook his body, sending fluff everywhere, coating you, the bed, the floor, every surface.

"What are you going to do now..?" He looked at you, tilting his head aside. Normally he'd be full of energy, ready to spring, hunt, kill. But right now... He just wanted to lay with his packmate. San settled back on the bed, his chest heaving with each breath.

Admittedly he looked comfortable, and you cautiously laid your head on his side, hearing his heart beating. His fur was silky soft, he was a massive fluffy pillow, perfect to just close your eyes for a second on and-

You woke to the bed being disturbed, opening your aching eyes to see another wolf standing over you, his sea-glass eyes glittering softly. Tufts of black intertwined with his brown and white fur, his tail wagging slowly, careful to not spook you.

He smelled of smoke and earth, his tongue lolling slowly as he panted, tired from his hunt. Deimos, definitely Deimos. He collapsed over you, Sanford letting out a loud huff as the smaller, but still larger than you, wolf made himself comfy.

The next was a wolf of light and dark grey, white around his muzzle to show his age. Doc, judging by the black streaks sticking up like a mohawk along his back, and the scars along his face. He pressed his nose to your cheek before laying behind Sanford, the two back to back.

Last was a jet black wolf with angry red eyes, he leaped onto the bed, his lips peeled back. Interestingly, his missing lower jaw had been changed into one that bit his wolf face, and there was blood oozing from it. A lot of blood.

Hank spat a severed finger onto your chest, a familiar looking engagement ring around it, before they laid down, cheek slightly touching your leg. As grizzly as his gift was, at least Hank had done something nice for you. Kinda.

You tossed the finger aside and let the warm wolf pile lull you back to sleep, dreams of one day running with them flooding your mind. Perhaps... One day.

[ramdeity]

old man yaoi

"A murder machine. That's undoubtedly the best way to describe this man. Standing at a towering six feet, his visage was a grotesque amalgamation of stolen flesh and scrap metal, giving rise to a jaw that struck terror into anyone who dared meet his gaze. I had the misfortune of knowing him personally. He was the kind of person who would go on his brutal rampages, returning with his own head dangling from his hand, a guttural groan escaping his mangled lips as he rasped my name..."

With a deafening crash, the door flew open, protesting loudly from the accumulated years of abuse. In one hand, he clutched his severed head, while the other gripped the door handle. He staggered through the building's dimly lit interior. Red-tinted goggles were strapped tightly to his face, alongside swaths of bandages and a black bandana that concealed most of his face.

"Doc…" He groaned, and his large, gnashing teeth grated against the harsh steel of his artificial jaw. The sound was akin to a fork scraping across a ceramic plate, making it agonizing to the ears.

'Doc' swiveled his chair around, his expression revealing clear displeasure. He had grown weary of this routine.

"Wimbleton, did you succeed on your mission?" Wimbleton nodded as best he could, considering his head was not attached to his shoulders.

"Good." Doc gestured for the man to recline on the operating table beside him. He stood up, preparing for the surgery without the courtesy of anesthesia. After all, Wimbleton had developed a high pain threshold from his numerous ordeals.

Wimbleton winced as he gingerly lowered himself onto the table, wincing as he inadvertently pulled at a previous mission's stitches. Doc heaved a sigh of exasperation.

"You really have to exercise more caution. These wounds won't heal if you keep tearing them open." He noticed Wimbleton picking at a scab on his arm and swiftly swatted his hand away.

"Stop it."

The doctor commenced the painstaking task of removing bullets, one by one, each extraction accompanied by an unpleasant squelching sound. While in the process of stitching up the neck wound; Wimbleton suddenly slumped over, life extinguishing from his body. The scene would have been morbidly comedic if not for the fact that all of Doc's work had been undone as Wimbleton hit the cold, unforgiving concrete floor.

Doc's fingers flipped a switch to start charging his defibrillators. He tugged at Wimbleton's lifeless form to ensure it lay flat on the ground, his practiced hands swiftly discarding his jacket and shirt. He rubbed the defibrillator paddles together, the friction sending sparks flying before he forcefully applied them to Wimbleton's chest. Nothing happened.

Undeterred, he repeated the process, rubbing the paddles together and then pressing them firmly. The body jolted, and Wimbleton sat upright, hand on his chest, gasping for air.

"If you're finished with your little episode, kindly get back on the table," Doc spoke with an icy detachment, his years of experience having numbed him. He rose to collect his tools, but he paused as he heard something unexpected from the man behind him.

"Thank… You."

Doc's eye twitched in response to this unusual display of gratitude. For a man who had been more machine than human for quite some time, hearing a genuine 'thank you' was nothing short of remarkable.

"Hank, get off the floor," Doc addressed him by his first name, an odd hint of emotion in his voice. He extended a hand to assist Hank. Doc had pieced him back together countless times; he knew how to take him apart.

Hank's head flopped to the side, prompting Doc to reach over to his counter and retrieve his needle and thread. He continued stitching up Hank's neck, glancing down to notice that the man still wore the ring from their long-forgotten marriage.

"...and I wouldn't have it any other way."

[zy-murge]

2bhank writing stuff

Pressing needle and suturing the flesh back together, Doc grazes a gloved hand over Hank's marred skin. He remembers every little bullet he's picked from it, every slash and scrape he's had to stitch, every bruise he's tended to with fingertips meeting scars over and over again. He'll never grow old of it, meeting a new part of Hank every moment he spends treating another wound he'd gained in a pointless battle. Doc hears Hank whimper as he grazes over the indents crossing over from bicep to shoulder. It's all too peculiar, how Hank allows Doc to love him like this.

//

(THIS WILL PROBABLY NEVER BE FINISHED)

Cold, narrow corridors reek of the metallic odor of blood. Pipes tracing along the ceiling, huffing and puffing with all sorts of sloshing and steam as you continue towards the heart of the establishment. You can't help but adjust your black face mask a little, as unpleasant as it is on your bandages. On the elusive "Hank J. Wimbleton's" last rampage through yet another AAHW facility, the brute had killed your most important source of information: Dr. Jebediah Christoff. It's been a while since you last spoke to Christoff, last time he was around he'd been working for the AAHW. A real prick, but that key fragment he holds has a sort of dissonance only compatible to Christoff for whatever reason. Approximately 83 dead, the corpses and gore coating the floor in red warm viscous tells you that this Wimbleton character was out for more than just a job well done. You wished there was someone else to accompany you in such a sprawling facility. In recent days, there's been a shortage of labor thanks to the AAHW pruning off possible employees thanks to the Fall of Nexus and the Nexus Core's constant decline. S.Q. doesn't offer enough to hire too many people anymore, since apparently "not utterly dehumanizing" isn't as appealing anymore. The stench of blood gets thicker in the air, almost overwhelming, as the wet crimson gets much thicker as you continue. EDM blares from a stairway before you-- some chicken related song you'd think-- and beckons you to enter the basement. You can see the dazzling lightshow on display projecting itself on the walls, brighter as you walk down ever so slowly.

REDO THIS SHIT LATER IT SUCKS

You never liked that genre anyway-- Bright flashing lights and volume up too loud assaults your senses, but you're used to it. You adjust your black mask and goggles, hopefully blocking out some of that damn light and noise. Luckily, seems no one here is alive. You kick one of the mangled bodies to be sure. Maybe you should take one home to experiment on… You have enough work as is, though. Looking at the mess around you, there's some horrid writing in blood above the DJ booth: "LOOKING FOR THESE, FIVE EYES?", signed with a T and an arrow pointing to an assortment of flesh with a keystone fragment, assumedly Dr. Christoff. You won't complain, less work is less work. It's ominous though, right? How did this "T" know you were coming? You can't afford to stay here any longer, and you can't waste time thinking about those things. You take your steps towards the DJ booth and prep your bodybag for the pieces of Christoff that are left over. From the looks of it, he was killed from an explosion. Close impact, only enough to have affected a small area. It'll be difficult to stitch with so much of him in pieces, what a pain in the ass. You can finally turn off that music too, the problem is finding the button. You slide Christoff's remains into the body bag, and reach over to the buttons. Reset? Maybe that'll-- AGHH! IT'S LOUDER THAN BEFORE! You hit another, only adding to the chaos. Another, and another, and another, until you hit a blinking red one that finally shuts it all off.

…Ah, that first one said "Preset."

A sound still emanates within the room though, from behind the DJ booth. Soft wheezes, you grip the handle of your pistol and slide to the floor on your side of the booth. There wasn't fucking supposed to be anyone left! You're wildly unprepared for this situation, but the breathing is weak. You can use them for information. (ehhh redo this part) You can't help but peek over a little, seeing another man weakly shifting around in a pool of his own blood. He seems to be holding something, but you can't make it out. You'll have to get closer. You take the pistol in your hand out of its holster, prepared for any move the stranger might make. He doesn't move as you rise out of your place on the floor and towards him, he simply writhes. You see now, he's attempting to stitch his own arm back on. His face is nearly unrecognizeable, mutilated with botched stitching and without a jaw. How grotesque. There's something almost familiar about it, about the physique and description. About 6'2, large stature with muscles to match, and a lack of life in those barely-noticeable eyes. Crouching down, you stare a little closer. He doesn't seem to notice, too caught up in anaphylactic shock. Oh my god.

[razzlee-meow]

small sleepy tickles

me writing this on the brink of falling asleep:

life is good.

this is gonna be real short considering the fact above. it's just a placeholder until i write hank being absolutely destroyed. and i uh, watched the "other incidents" (the non-canon stuff krinkles has made) and there's an agent named torture? agent torture? oh please, tell me you haven't thought of the same things i've just thought about. LMAOOO

edit: i lied. this is not short. i got carried away. lee!hank is the cutest thing and i'm not sorry.

anyways enjoy this short little moment between two babies (cuz they deserve the world).

lee!hank, ler!2bdamned.

hank needs sleep. everyone does. but nothing doc seemed to do worked. until they figured out a single method that takes the poor boy down in minutes.

he/they for hank. | they/them for 2bdamned/doc.

Doc knew how hard it was for Hank to fall asleep. Being constantly on the run and overall tense, fighting until he's bruised and broken, lingering on until the very end. Surely the poor mercenary would be exhausted, no?

Well, that was just the answer. No.

Although Hank could be exhausted beyond belief, as far as he'd ever known, there was no way for him to fall asleep. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. It got to a point where the bags underneath their eyes could be seen through the red tint of their goggles. It got to the point where even Deimos and Sanford were starting to complain, wondering about solutions to their problem. Eventually, they dragged 2BDamned into the equation.

They had the most medical knowledge here, and if that counted for anything, surely, they must've had some idea how to get Hank to fall asleep. "Doc," the mercenary muttered, letting out a soft yawn underneath the cloth that stuck to his face, "you called?"

They smiled underneath their own mask, nodding. "Yeah. The others are concerned about the lack of sleep you're gettin'. And by the looks of it, I feel like you should be concerned too." Hank shuffled by the doorway; their arms crossed over their chest.

"I'm fine, Doc," muttered Hank, whose body started to feel heavy. The doctor pursed their lips, suddenly standing up to go meet the other by the door. "You do not look fine. Go sit down on the table, alright?" 2BDamned pointed over toward the table they had just cleaned, turning swiftly on their heels.

"But, 2B, I can't—" Hank protested but was quickly silenced by the emotion in their eyes.

"Do not argue with me on this Wimbleton," they narrowed their eyes. "You look terrible, and everyone can see it. If there is a way to get you to sleep, I will find it." Hank pouted slightly, shaking their head as they reluctantly did what the doctor told them to.

Before long, 2BDamned turned back with a bunch of things cradled in their arms. Medicine to help with sleep, sweet auras to try and relax him (like that would ever work, he was constantly tense), and even some tea that they hoped would help him.

"This is stupid, 2B." The other person didn't reply, and Hank even went silent for a little while.

They began trying everything they could. At first, he took the medicine. It seemed that after thirty minutes of waiting and lying down on the table, it didn't work after all. Quite disappointing but there were other things that could work. The second thing they tried was to light a couple of candles, and other sweet-smelling things, but it seemed after the first second of smelling it, Hank wasn't too fond of this idea.

"Too overwhelming," as they had said to the doc, who had promptly put them out. It was fine. Maybe this last thing could work? They stirred some honey in the freshly made tea (of course, Doc had made it exactly the way Hank liked it) and handed the cup to him.

After a few minutes, the question stirred once more. "Do you feel tired yet?"

The same answer was given.

No.

2BDamned sighed, putting a palm to their forehead. There had to be something that could work. Anything! Hank was getting restless, they could tell, and after a few seconds of thinking, the mercenary hopped off the table, barely able to keep himself up. "Listen, thanks for tryin' Doc, but it just isn't gonna—"

"I GOT IT!" 2BDamned suddenly yelled out. Hank cringed backward a little, freaked out by the sudden loudness of his friend.

"Lay back down, but this time, on your stomach," Doc instructed, their mind racing with thoughts of whether this 'technique' of theirs had often times worked on them when they were younger. "I also need you to take your jacket off. Your shirt, too, if you're comfortable with it."

Hank hesitated slightly, before succumbing to their orders, taking off the top layers of his clothes and laying down with their head resting on their arms. "Like this?" they questioned softly, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

2BDamned could see all the scars that Hank had gotten over the years, the ones that were healed, the ones that were... getting there, and the ones that downright just looked awful. "Mhmm, that's perfect. I'm going to start now, okay?"

Hank nodded, closing his eyes to possibly help with what the doc was trying to do. But there was no way in hell they could've prepared for what they were going to do to him. Doc's fingers traced over his back softly, the gloved parts of their hand gliding across his scarred skin.

"Hng—" Hank repressed the urge to make any noise. He was shaking a little and his body seemed to grow tenser. Doc only smirked, finding the other's reactions endearing. The mercenary's fists clenched together as they hid their face in the crook of their arm, small breaths of what seemed to be laughter flowing out of their mouth.

"This used to work on me all the time," Doc explained quietly. "It would calm me right down. I used to have nightmares and had problems getting to sleep too, y'know but when someone would rub their hands on my back, it felt amaz— Hank, are you okay? You're not as calm as I thought you'd be."

The doctor paused their explanation as the man's laughter got a little louder, their fingers now circling a sensitive scar near his hip. Hank nodded. "I-I'm good, Dohohoc," they chuckled out, trying to hold back all reactions. The doctor's eyes widened as they finally figured out what was happening, a smirk growing under their masked face.

"Seems someone's a bit ticklish, huh? Don't worry, I'll keep it soft," Doc whispered, their fingers drawing random shapes on his back as they let out a few chuckles themself. The sensations kept switching back from being soothing to unbearably ticklish. It kept throwing Hank off a little every time they moved their fingers, but he couldn't deny that it did help a little. Well, maybe more than a little.

"D-Dohohon't tehehease me," Hank grumbled through soft giggles. 2BDamned was relishing in the noises they were hearing from the usually stoic mercenary. Their fingers trailed upward to his shoulder blades but suddenly stopped, watching the other flip over, his eyes widened. "N-Not thehehere, p-plehehease," they whined, their shoulders tense. "I c-cahahan't tahahake it."

2BDamned nodded, laughing along with the other. "Fine, fine, I'll stay low, alright?" They watched the taller man flip back over, still dissolving into giggles even though they weren't touching him. It was cute. Too cute, they caught themselves thinking as their hands descended on him again, gently stroking the lower part of his back, right above scars that had healed. "But since you're not tryin' to kill me, I have to assume that you like this."

Hank said nothing as his entire face turned red, the small breathy laughs still escaping from his mouth. The way his fingertips danced wasn't an unwelcome feeling. They weren't a physical person normally, avoiding people's touches like the plague, but there was something about the way Doc was doing it that made him completely melt. Even if he was giggling hysterically during the process of it. "I sahahhah- said, don't tehease me," Hank grumbled, clearing his throat as his words started to slur together. It was clear that it was working.

"I'm not teasing you. I'm stating a clear fact." Doc replied, pressing into the soft flesh of his back with medium intensity, watching the other tense up for a minute before relaxing again. "I'm glad something worked out for you. I know how hard it is for you to sleep normally. Especially considering all these scars. Must've been hard to heal from, huh, Hank?" They asked but was surprised when they got no reply.

"Hank?" The doctor took their hands off of them, leaning over to see a sight that they'd never seen before.

Hank was finally asleep.

2BDamned let out a small huff, removing their mask as a faint outline of a smile traced their features. They picked up the somewhat-light man, carrying him off to his room.

It seemed like they'd have to do this more often.

[Fin.]

[cosmica-galaxy]

Happy holidays! I hope you all have a good day and you each have a wonderful time! Thank you to all of my mutuals and I hope you have fun this winter! -

🎄 THE SQ CREW REACT TO CHRISTMAS 🎄

– The grunts so far have visited you for about 2 straight months to participate in the holidays. So far, every holiday they got to experience was unique and different in their own ways. Both involve decorating and seem to hold onto a value that humans deem essential for celebrating. Halloween was filled with sweets, scares, costumes, and joy. Thanksgiving was about feasting and being grateful for people and things that were in your life. Each one about giving or being thankful or having fun…which was more than sparse in Nevada. Grunts barely had any holidays, with the exception of Madness Day, which was just a yearly marker to tally up another year under the reign of the madness. Human holidays were much more positive and friendly and they each had to thank their Player for inviting them all to visit for the holidays. It was like a miniature vacation back to some form of normalcy before they all returned to Nevada to start the cycle all over again. It was peaceful and fun to visit their Player. Every holiday so far has been a great experience for the grunts to witness and participate in. But the other holidays didn’t seem to compare to the “final holiday” that humans, like their precious Player, celebrate. The group was told by their Player to come to their home on the specific date of the 25th of December and to arrive early. To which Doc had noted that down and made sure to keep track of it. It had piqued all of their interest since you seemed very excited for that date to arrive. Pretty soon, it did and the group set up the portal and made their move to head over to the Player’s abode, each member silently wondering what the Player had in store for them for this supposed “big finale” to the year. - HANK - Upon entering the portal to the Player’s realm, Hank was immediately enthralled by the decor that his Player had laid out in their living room to welcome the members. Hank blinks from behind his red goggles as the sheer beauty of the room assaults his vision. The room had changed once more. Unlike the fall decor that the group had gotten used to on their last two visits, this time it was different. Like…REALLY different. The fireplace that was in the living room was illuminated with a fire roaring inside the hearth and the hearth itself was decorated with five colorful large socks that were embroidered with their names. There was a smell of something sweet and savory in the air and the sound of some muffled cheery music could be heard playing from somewhere in the home. There were twinkling lights decorated all around the room on green garlands, ribbons hanging from fixtures, illuminated knick knacks that appeared to be winter themed, and the most obvious (and arguably the most beautiful) decoration was the tree that was decorated from top to bottom. The white lights all sparkled and glittered as the decorations hung off the branches, bows and ribbons were weaved through the foliage, and the bright star that topped the tree shined like a beacon. But that also wasn’t just the only thing that caught Hank’s gaze. Underneath the beautiful tree were numerous boxes that were wrapped up in colorful paper and sparkling bows. Each of them with a label that had the designated recipient displayed. Even from his place at the entrance to the Player’s home, he could see there were so many that were marked for him…and Hank couldn’t help but be curious as he walked over and investigated the tree and presents much more closely. The others also spread out to investigate the newly decorated household, as Hank watches them partially as he takes note of the stuffed stockings, numerous gifts under the tree, and just the look of the room entirely. Especially the presents that were intended for him. Hank was more than curious about what could possibly be in the box that his Player got for him…and he swears he can feel something bubbling up in the depths of his chest in response. It was so strange to him since he usually only gets this feeling when he’s on a mission or killing grunts. What was it…it was similar to the adrenaline rushes he would get…then he realizes. Was he…excited? That was quite a revelation. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise. He was getting gifts from his PLAYER after all. Why wouldn’t he be excited? Hank then takes notice of you leaning into the living room from the kitchen doorway before smiling and welcoming all of the crew into your home. Hank takes notice of your outfit that seemed to be colored with red, greens, and white. You were even wearing a drooping red hat with fuzzy trimmings for some reason. But he wasn’t one to care for details. You still looked stunning in his eyes. Hank eventually snaps out of his staring when you walk out of the kitchen with a plate of something to give out to your visitors. Upon inspecting it with the others, he was surprised to find that you had made cookies that were all lookalikes of all the members of SQ, including Hank. Each cookie is carefully iced to look just like the one they represent. “I hope you all like them! They took a while to make and I wanted them to be just perfect.” He hears the Player explain as he picks up a cookie of Deimos and lowers his mask to bite the head off of it. Much to Deimos’s chagrin. It was really tasty. Hank then throws the rest of the cookie into his mouth before covering up and munching on it as he listens to his Player announcing that today was “Christmas” and they got all of the SQ members gifts. The first thing they were going to do was open gifts and have fun. The others, with a much more controlled 2B, thank the Player for their generosity as they merely wave them off and encourage them all to gather around the living room. Hank takes a seat with the others as you pass out gifts that had their names on them. Hank gets gifts of various sizes, but an equal amount was spread out among the members. Each of them getting an equal amount of presents. Once all the presents were passed out, each of them began to open their gifts. With the exception of Deimos, as he was already impatiently ripping the wrapping off of one of his gifts. Hank watches the others for a bit before he finally decides to open his own gifts. The first one he was holding is quickly ripped open and he is delighted to find a box that advertised a blender on the inside. He places it in his own pile of opened gifts and continues to rip his wrapping off. Now growing more and more visibly excited as more gifts are revealed. Each gift was fitted to his interest of murder and fighting, except one that he found very interesting. It was a strange large cube-like device that he didn’t understand the purpose of until his Player helped him understand that it was a stimulation cube, also known as a “fidget cube”. Then, it quickly became a favorite as he messes with it idly. Hank enjoyed all of the gifts that his Player gifted to him unconditionally. You could’ve given him a pair of socks and he still would’ve enjoyed them. So while the others were having fun with their own gifts, Hank found himself staring at his Player. While he did enjoy the presents and the holiday, he still argues that the best gift that all of SQ ever got was you. Their Player. And Hank would kill all those that would say otherwise. - DEIMOS AND SANFORD - The pair was quickly assaulted by the visuals upon entering the Player’s home. But once they adjusted to the brightness of the lights, the pair were quick to appreciate the sheer amount of beauty that your home was radiating. All of this work must’ve taken a long time to put together and the pair find themselves exploring the surroundings and admiring each of the unique items. From the stockings that were filled with sweets to the snow globes that shimmered and sparkled with every shake they made. But they also had to agree that the most beautiful decoration in the whole room was the tree that was sitting in the corner. The pair watch Hank investigate the tree from a ways away as Doc walks along the edge of the room and admires the details of the decorations. Meanwhile, both Sanford and Deimos sniff the air and have pleasant flashbacks to Thanksgiving. There was just simply a pleasant smell in the air that made both of their mouths water and they were about to investigate the kitchen before they took notice of their Player peeking into the living room before smiling and waving at both of them. To which they returned whole-heartedly. “Hey fellas! I’m so glad you could make it!” They hear their Player say joyously as they come into the living room holding a plate of sweets. Deimos lets out a low whistle as the two mercenaries take in the holiday outfit that their Player is wearing. To which Sanford nudges Deimos roughly before you approach them. “Do you two like cookies? I made some today! Fresh out of the oven!” You cheerily say and the two nodded eagerly. “Hell yes!!” Deimos cheers instantly as he picks up a Hank, in revenge for watching Hank bite the head off of a cookie-Deimos, and happily munches on it. (Especially in front of Hank, who didn’t even care.) “They look delicious, Player. Thank you.” Sanford calmly responds before picking up a cookie-Sanford and munching on it. The two listen in as you announce what your plans were for today as the two watch your elegant form smile brightly at the group and they couldn’t help the feeling of their hearts palpitating as they see you excitedly ramble about your ideas for today. You were such a bright light in the dark uncertainty of their lives…how could they ever find another being just like you anywhere else? Then, you announce it was present time and Deimos was more than eager to begin. Once settled in their designated spots, the presents began to get handed out. 

Sanford had to reel Deimos in on occasion when he was getting a little impatient with getting his presents, but once Deimos received his first gift, the wrapping was obliterated in seconds. Causing his partner to roll his eyes in a tired manner. Sanford was much more patient by comparison, silently waiting for his gifts to be delivered before graciously accepting them and setting them into his own pile. 

Pretty soon, the two of them received their gifts and Deimos was happily tearing into each and every single one of them.

Sanford was equally as excited, but much more manageable. As he tears the packaging off with a bit more grace and was delighted to find presents that fitted his needs and personality on the inside. Same with Deimos, who always cheered when he opened his presents.

Once the presents were opened, each of the two mercenaries began to fiddle and practice with them. Each admiring and appreciating how thoughtful you were about their respective interests and preferred techniques.

They also take moments out of their time playing with their new “toys” to stare at their generous Player. Each one letting out their own respective sigh, both knowing what the other was feeling at that moment in time.

How did the SQ deserve such a person like you?

You were so kind, thoughtful, generous, and sweet…

None of the gifts they received today even compared to you. You were not only the best thing that had ever happened to each of them, you were the best thing that ever happened in Nevada.

They had so many things to be gracious for and you’re obviously at the top of the list.

- DOC -

The moment Doc had followed the others through the portal to the Player’s Dimension, he was also visually assaulted by the stimulating light show that made up your living room. It never failed to surprise him how many decorations that humans tend to have for their numerous holidays. First it was Halloween, then it was Thanksgiving, and now it’s this holiday too…humans must have a thing for decorating their homes.

He has to admit, however…the decorations were rather nice to see such colors and luminous decorations strewn about the abode.

While Hank was investigating the tree and Sanford and Deimos were eying up the glowing snow globes that lined the mantle of the fireplace, Doc decided to look at the decorations that covered the wall.

He never really took the time to fully analyze your home, but seeing the various pictures you all took together hanging up on the walls of your home in seasonal themed frames just seemed to make Doc feel a little warmer inside.

Especially if he stared at the images and reminisced about the memories that were associated with the photo.

Like the one where you took a photo of them sledding for the first time in the snow. Or the time they all came out to visit you on your birthday. His favorite is still the photo you all took once you all met in reality for the first time.

It was such a valuable core memory that shaped your relationship with the Nevadeans, Doc couldn’t help but smile when he stared at the framed picture for a long time.

The sound of your voice snaps him out of it, though.

Upon looking towards the entrance that led to the kitchen, he finds you standing there smiling at Sanford and Deimos and waving to Hank. All dressed up in a similarly themed outfit that gave off a similar aura as the decorations that lined your home.

The reds, greens, and whites in your outfit, along with the red hat with a white trim and ball, seemed to give Doc the impression that you were being festive.

He also had to admit…that outfit did make you look stunning.

He was shaken out of his mental mindscape by you offering him a plate of sweets.

���Hey Doc! I’m glad you could make it and I hope you’re enjoying the decorations! Would you like a cookie? I made them myself!” You beam.

Doc suppresses a flustered blush as he nods and picks up a cookie version of himself.

“I would. Thank you, Player.” He says in a professional manner, drawing a light laugh out of you in response.

“No problem, Doc. It’s almost time to unwrap your presents! Pick a seat and we’ll start handing the gifts out!” You say cheerily before setting the plates down and moving over to where the tree was.

It was at that time that Doc had taken notice of all the gifts underneath the tree. It was shocking to see so many gifts of various shapes and sizes…and it was all for the members of his crew? Humans are so generous, it’s genuinely baffling to him.

Regardless, he does what you asked him to do and he nestles himself into a nice recliner. Enjoying the support on his back and the peaceful setting of just watching his crew eagerly wait for their presents.

One by one, presents are handed out to the members of the crew as Doc looks on and piles his up next to the chair. Deimos was already tearing into his gifts like a child and Sanford was slowly getting swept up in his own enthusiasm once the gifts started to appear. Hank was simply sitting off to the side nearest to the tree, sitting over his presents like a dragon guarding its hoard.

The atmosphere that filled the house was quickly growing brighter and much more lively as the gifts were being opened by the mercenaries as Doc simply looked on.

Finally, he started opening his and he discovered his presents would be very useful to him in the long run while in Nevada.

One of which was a new laptop and tablet, which would help with his dispatching and hacking capabilities. Especially since it seemed to be much more powerful and a newer model compared to the rundown one he had back in Nevada.

“I hope you like them…”

Your voice ringing out next to him draws his attention as the Player was sitting near him on the couch not too far away.

“I didn’t know what you would’ve needed. So I decided to get you things that would help you with your tasks in Nevada. You said you were a dispatcher and a makeshift medic for the team…so I decided that modern tech and medical supplies would be something you desired.” The Player explains.

“They’re very practical and will be beneficial in serving us in our endeavor. Thank you for the gifts, Player. You’re very thoughtful about all of our preferences and needs.” Doc compliments.

The Player merely laughs and smiles at Doc with a bright shine in their eye.

He couldn’t help the fluttering feeling he felt in his chest when you laughed and smiled at him like that. His mask could be seen moving from the smile that was hidden behind it as he admires you.

He didn’t understand how the chances of him and you meeting up was ever made possible, but he finds himself never regretting investigating into the Employers files about you. He would’ve never met you if he didn’t discover your existence.

And if there’s one thing he’s thankful for…

It’s that he got to meet such a wonderful person as you.

–

The day continued onward and once all the gifts were given out and the mess of wrapping paper, torn bows, and discarded packaging was dealt with, you all went into the kitchen to feast on another meal.

You all sat at the same table and you would bring in the food, with some help from Sanford, and the spread was laid out.

A meal fit for a restaurant was laid out before the crew as you announced them all to happily dig in and each one did so with voracious abandon.

You all ate and shared stories about what has happened between now and Thanksgiving, each story much more chaotic and lively than the last as you all exchanged laughter and cheers.

The crew happily fills their bellies and you do the same.

Despite the snow, silence, and the growing chill that surrounded your home on the outside, your house was warm, lively, and merry all on the inside. With each member of SQ having a great time eating, drinking, and partying while you indulge in their fun.

You couldn’t even stop smiling for the whole day.

Then again, why would you?

This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had!

[bubbleteacat]

*running with a bouquet of flowers*

Hello dear ❣️

I saw that the request was open so...

When a player (female) woke up on her bed. I found out that the characters in madness combat came into her world (maybe they were shorter?). I wanted to see their reaction to see what happened.

Sorry if the language is weird because I'm not good at English ;-;

From wolf 🐺 anon

Hello Wolf Anon!!! You are literally my first request on this blog, so I am honoured! ^o^ I hope you like the drabble I came up with! <3 Also! Thank you so much for the request! I went with the main 4 (Hank, Deimos, Sanford & 2BD) Who also happen to be in their grunt form ^^ (Hope you meant that with them being shorter)

Ending up in your world (Main 4 with fem!Reader) // Drabble

Something made you stir in your sleep. A noise, but also a strange feeling on your chest. It wasn't painful, but kind of uncomfortable. As if someone was pressing down on your chest. With a disgruntled groan, you slowly opened your eyes... just to see red colored goggles stare back at you. Something was sitting on your chest. Staring at you. It looked... strange. It was small. Perhaps just big enough to reach your hips. It also had no arms or legs. Just floating hands, and feet attached to it's small body. It's dressed like a ninja, with a mask covering it's face. It's grey face. Honestly, it looked like nothing you had seen so far.Or so you believed. And as you already choose to just go back to sleep, because this must be nothing but a dream, it moves one of it's hands and pokes your cheek... And that touch felt real. And you noticed that the pressure on your chest from it felt real as well... You stare at Hank for a moment longer, with him returning your gaze, before... you started screaming. It had caught the grunt off guard, making him flinch, and forgetting to dodge as you slap him off of you. You were much bigger than him, so of course physically stronger as well. Still, he wouldn't have expected that your simple slap would make him fly across the room as if he was just some ragdoll. Thankfully, instead of hitting the wall he flew straight into your laundry basket which was filled with freshly washed clothes, that you had yet to iron.

Your screaming had ceased then, and your eyes went from the basket around your room... and you noticed that there were three more of the same thing that had sat on your chest a moment ago. They stared at you just as confused as you at them. None was saying anything. Could they even speak? They also weren't doing anything, so you took a moment to eye them further. One of them wore a mask, which also had red goggles like the one you had slapped away. He also had a mohawk. Your eyes then went to the other two. One had a bandana, and wore some shades. The last one had a cap, and a headset on his head. But he had nothing covering his face, so you could see that he had no facial features like yourself. No eyes. No nose. Just a cross. What the fuck were those things?!? Apparently they were taking your appearance in as well. They had never seen a human before. A noise then let you all flinch, and turn your attention back to the laundry basket. With a grumble, Hank climbed out of your laundry before flicking a sock away from his head. And then finally one of them spoke. The one with the mohawk, and the mask.

"HANK! I told you not to touch her!"

He hissed at the ninja one, Hank apparently, before turning his attention back to you. He even holds up his hands, trying to make you understand that they did meant no harm.

"Sorry about that. Hank here has a hard time following orders apparently... I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself but..."

Doc trailed off, unsure what to say. And you were still to dumbfounded to say anything at all. Awkward silence filled the room, at least for a moment. The one with the cap suddenly spoke, apparently trying to kill the akwardness between you all.

"We just wanted to ask ya where we are, toots! Heh, but ya seem to be as confused as we are! Cat even got your tongue, eh?"

Deimos spoke, teasing you. And it made you snap out of your dumbfounded state, and raise a brow before you finally spoke.

"Who, and what the hell are you?!? And how did you get into my apartment?!?"

"I cannot answer you how we got here. But I sure can answer your other questions. We are 'grunts'. At least that's what we call ourself. My name is 2BDamned, but you can call me Doc. The one who so... gracefully woke you up is Hank."

Hank just gave you a little wave, with his floating hand, as he was introduced. And while you were pretty much still unsure about them, you gave a small wave back as Doc continued.

"And those other two are Deimos, and Sanford."

Your eyes then went to the other two grunts who got introduced to you. Sanford, apparently the one with the bandana gave you a smile, and some thumbs up. Deimos shoot you a cheeky grin, showing off his sharp teeth, and gave you double fingerguns. That actually made you smile for some reason.

"Heya, toots~ Whatcha your name, hm?"

Oh, right. You have to introduce yourself as well. So you tell them your name, and... well. You started to talk more with the grunts. Where they were right now. And that left them as confused as before given that they had never heard about your world before. And they told you about their world. Nevada. It did sounded like an interesting place... but apparently very violent. Doc did the most of the talking, while Sanford and Deimos occasionally threw in comments. Hank hadn't said anything so far, and seemed to be rather uninterested at your conversation with the other three. He just strolled around in your bedroom, and looked at whatever he found interesting. At some point he even picked one of your plushies up, and squeezed it a few times. It was kind of cute in your opinion. The other three had sat down on your bed, and you sat on the ground in front of them while you talked. They really were so much smaller than you. But at some point you can back to the subject of how they ended up here. And 2BD was the only one who could give you some hint of what could have happened.

"We really don't have an answer to that. I was hacking into a, for me unknown, system shortly before we got transported over here. So perhaps I hacked into something I shouldn't."

Hacking? Like computer hacking? Had he hacked into your computer perhaps? You had left it on overnight, downloading a new game that a friend gifted to you. You hadn't looked up anything about it, but thought you might as well try it out today given that your friend also praised it so much. What was it called again? Madness? Project... whatever? You couldn't remember right now. But your gaze wander to your pc. The screen was turned off, but the RGB light coming from the pc case were giving away that it was still turned on. If Doc had hacked into it, perhaps it showed anything about that?

"Perhaps you hacked into my computer? I left it running over night so... let me get a look."

You went to your pc, with Doc jumping off your bed, and following close behind you. Sitting down in the office chair on your desk, you clicked the button to turn on your screen. At first nothing happened, but then it turned bright, and you could see your desktop. There was nothing out of the ordinary with it. Some folders with your games. Other icons with your work programms. You then opened up steam, to take a quick look at the game you downloaded. Of course it was already finished. Ah, Madness Project Nexus was it's name. Eh, you will probably check it out another time. For now you had a different problem. But after you closed steam again, you noticed that the game had already been opened. It was minimized. Had one of them perhaps played around on your pc before you woke up? Curiously you clicked on the game icon on your taskbar, getting the game into full screen... but there was no game. You just had a black screen with that seemed like some code in green. Is that normal? Should it be like this? Has this something to do with them?

"Did you find something?"

You flinched as Doc suddenly spoke, and your eyes wandered back to him as he looked at you curiously. He couldn't see the screen of course. Your desk was to big for that.

"Oh! I guess! I mean... I don't know? Do you want to take a look? Perhaps it will tell you more!"

And with that you leaned down, and casually picked the grunt up just to seat him onto your lap. And 2BD froze at that. One part of him found it kind of humiliating to be picked up like this, and another... did find it kind of comfortable? He choose to ignore it for now. You just did that to show him your screen, right? But now that he could see your screen, he could see the code, and his stiffness soon disappeared. He knows that code. It's the same one he had seen before they had been teleported away! So... apparently he had hacked into her computer. Now that this mystery was solved, he just needed to figure out how to get them back.

"Yes. This is exactly what I was looking for! I must have somehow hacked into your computer, and it transported us somehow to your world. I bet I can fix that."

The grunt then hoped onto your desk, already having his hands over your keyboard before he turns back to you.

"Uhm. Is it alright if I do use your pc for that?"

Doc believed that it would be more polite to ask. It was your computer after all. But you just smiled. Somehow happy that he even asked, even though he wouldn't have to. And you nod, before leaving 2BD to his work. it's probably a good idea to not disturb him while he tries to figure stuff out. You had no idea what he was doing anyway. instead you went back to the two grunts who were still sitting on your bed, Deimos and Sanford, and started to talk to them. They were quite the nice conversation partners actually! Even if Deimos seemed to like casually flirt with you, or just giving you nicknames like toots. Sanford though was rather polite. He even slightly punched Deimos on the side of his body after some very suggestive flirtations. Though it actually made you chuckle. At some point Hank came back over to you three, carrying a small pink plush bunny in his hands. It was one of yours of course. Though as he went to sit on the bed with you three, he pushed Sanford and Deimos away to take a seat between you and them. That earned him a glare, and some grumbled words from his 'friends'. But you just let out a low chuckle. Mostly because it looked kind of adorable how he was holding that plushy to his chest. You begann talking with them after that again. Hank didn't seemed to be a very talkative person, given that he was mostly silent, and just seemed to listen to your conversation. And as it became late, it became clear that 2BD couldn't solve their problem to find a way back to their world that easy. So you decided to let them stay, and help them as much as you could, while they tried to figure something out. Doc seemed to be a smart guy, so he will surely figure it out eventually... right?



[yanderes-galore]

Request for you to expand on that cat-hybrid post with Hank, perhaps? 👀 I'm curious to what you'd write for that

Hanks just a cat anyways, ngl. Also, I love cats- They are my favorite animal. So pardon me while I gush about this now- ALSO I am willing to write more for this little AU that exists now, lol.

Yandere! Cat-Hybrid! Hank J. Wimbleton Concept

(Hybrid AU)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Murder, Blood, Slight manipulation, Violence, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

- Hank already is rather cat-like in Madness, or at least portrayed as such in media.

- But what if this killing machine was a cat-hybrid?

- Sporting a pair of ears, tail, claws and fangs....

- The already well-trained killing machine just got even deadlier.

- How you would've met this hybrid is not much different from how you'd encounter normal Hank.

- He's a stray, wandering the ruined streets of Nevada and slaughtering anyone who oversteps their boundaries.

- He's agile, fast, and deadly.

- He also likes to stalk.

- He's a big kitty as Hank is normally tall, too.

- Once he sets his eyes/goggles on you, Hank feels the urge to follow you.

- Usually he'd just watch you from a distance until he felt comfortable/obsessed enough to stand in front of you.

- Although... feeding him?

- You just made this cat even more obsessed over you.

- Not just feeding him, either.

- Show any sort of care towards him and the cat's all over you.

- You can either be scared or comforted by the fact this cat-hybrid follows you around.

- It's scary because you just see this figure dawned in black clothing, red goggles staring at you while he's perched on some spot.

- Those ears picking up on every sound you make... tail swaying while he just watches.

- It's also a little comforting because you feel Hank's got your back, the efficient cat-hybrid not letting any threat come close to you.

- Cat-hybrid! Hank (Or Cat! Hank for short) is also a bit more affectionate than normal Hank.

- When the cat's obsessed enough, he trots on over to you to sit in front of you.

- You aren't sure what to do until Hank prods at your hand.

- Now you're stuck rubbing his ears and face while the hybrid purrs, loudly.

- He doesn't speak, just makes small noises and purrs.

- Although when he's comfortable he will make an attempt to sprawl over you.

- Doesn't really matter where, as long as he knows it's safe, Hank will curl up on top of you and just start purring.

- Hank is also possessive, not letting any of his fellow strays near you along with any threat.

- That goes for Sanford, Deimos, Doc, and especially not Jebus, Sheriff, or Tricky.

- You are his and he claims you as such, rubbing himself into you to make you smell like him.

- Hank, even as a hybrid, doesn't care about staining himself with blood.

- If you stumble upon him reducing Bandits or anyone else to shreds, he won't care if he stains you in it.

- In fact, he'll just pounce on you and nuzzle into you like always.

- Hank would probably be a hybrid that bites, too.

- If it wasn't for the face mask around his mouth he'd probably nibble on you when comfortable or moody.

- Also, because cat, he 100% reacts to boxes, laser pointers, etc.

- He doesn't mind if you use those to play with him.

- He enjoys taking a break and relaxing with you.

- If he could, he'd find a big box, then scoop you into his arms and sit in it.

- Purring all the while.

- The cat would probably melt if you rubbed his face or ears.

- His purring is loud, but probably not as loud as Sanford's would be.

- He also has sharp claws.

- If he's upset he will dig those into something.

- Even if it's your skin, unfortunately....

- Hank would also make a big deal if anyone came near you.

- One of his fellow hybrid friends? He hisses when they get attention and he doesn't.

- Bandits, Zeds, or anything he hates? Gone. He's feral about it. He wants them dead.

- In a way, it's nice to have the hybrid be on your side.

- But the cat's not against kidnapping or murder.

- Hank would drag you away to some abandoned building to live in at some point.

- Then it can just be you and him.

- You'll be happy to have such an efficient protector, right?

[gazingstarsabove]

slow dancing in the dark😏

·Headcanons for the madcom peeps on how they would do in slow dance! It's up to you if you'd interpret this as romantic or planotic!!

—•Hank would definitely just stare at you in the dance floor, just standing there awkwardly, until you put a hand on his shoulder, and you guided his hands to your waist. He only moves side to side and follows your lead, but when you go and move somewhere else it's guaranteed he'd step on your foot. A little bashful, he'd just be staring into your soul behind those red goggles of his, his grip on you a little light. When you try to spin, he'll let go and just stare at you, confusedly. Will only do it once and never again

—•Sanford would be alright, though he needs a little footwork. He doesn't know where to place his hands, and he's sort of worried he'll make you uncomfortable, but it's aight. Little smile on his face as you two dance to the song, saying things that embarasses him, usually making you laugh. He'd try to spin you, but it usually ends up with him having to let go of your hand lol. He's trying! But he's atleast decent. Will only do it if he's in the mood, or if you force him to lmfao

—•Deimos is the one to willingly invite you into the dance floor, but man, believe me you'll regret it. Nonetheless, it wasn't really slow dance, it was just him dragging you all across the dance floor. Hands everywhere, and he keeps stepping on your feet. You dance in a more zigzag form, and he spins you like a damn beyblade, making you slightly dizzy. But in the end, it usually ends in a slow pace. Will do it every damn time.

—•Doc would decline your invitation, but he'll usually dance with you when there's not much people in the room. He holds you by your waist, the other hand on your hip. He only dances with you side to side, he doesn't spin you, he a little too killjoy™ for that. Will say this is a waste of time, but still continues to dance with you. He actually very much enjoys dancing with you, if he weren't just so grumpy all the time. Will only do it when his crew is in the room, or if it's just you two.

—•Tricky dancing? WOWEE!! it's more likely than you think. He doesn't know what slow dancing is, so he just sways your whole body side to side, aggressively, holding you by your underarms. He also does that thing where he lifts you up, and starts spinning you around. May or may not take over the dj to switch up the mood to something more exciting. Will always dance with you, boogy style or something "slow"

—•Jeb is very bashful, but he usually brushes it off as "I'm too much of an old man to do this type of shi", or anything to do with his age. But he will do it when you're alone, radio playing and it's only you two in the room. He's actually really sweet, removing his sunglasses to look at you properly, halo above his head serving as a little warm spotlight. His movements precise, and calculated, and doesn't mind spinning you a few times. Will only do it if you two are close, or if he thinks fondly of you.

—•Sheriff is the one to invite you, and he usually uses an excuse like "get your feet workin'", or "don't just stand there!". He's actually real good in slow dance, his hand on your waist, the other holding your hand. He would whisper sweet nothings to you, being really flirty as he dances you, even if it's platonic. He'll spin you, and does that thing where he lowers your upper body and holds you by the back, his other hand holding yours, as he bites on a rose. Dunno where he got that, romance shit!! Will do it everytime

—•Auditor urhmm. I mean gurly he'll dance with you, but urhm just make sure to wear gloves if you plan to hold his hands. He'll get all whiny about it, “And what serves the purpose of participating in this dance?”, like he be questioning everything. But he's actually really good than he lets on. He'll spin you, only once though, bc he knows how fast grunts can get motion sickness. He'll only do it if you're alone or if his agents set it up.

—•Phobos will get all giddy if you invite him, or if you planned the dance yourself. He goes on boasting about it, his ego and pride skyrocketing out of the damn tower. He doesn't mind dancing in public or private, spending time with you is enough. He'll probably get you those elevated platforms, so you two can properly face one another. He'll get you two spotlights, demanding his agents to make the mood a lot more intimate and sweet. Get ready because your dance is gonna have a lot more spinning, he's gonna make snarky remarks if you get dizzy, but he'll stop if you ask him to. Will always do it with you

[concerningmadness]

Maybe something where the main 3 + 2B have to deal with their S/O being held hostage? Either giving into their demands or going to save them?

Get as angsty as you want!

(Hostage reader/rescue stuff huh? Likin the way you think my man- 👀)

Main 3 + Doc with S/O that was kidnapped by the A.A.H.W:

Content Warnings:

Cw: violence 

Cw: gore

Cw: kidnapping

Cw: torture

Cw: angst

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Why? What could have possibly possessed the doctor to send you on this mission alone. You reassured him and the rest of the group that you could handle a simple raid on your own. You couldn't. The moment you entered the facility, it was already too late for you to realize they'd prepared an ambush. GOL3Ms and ATPs surround you in a pincer formation in the blink of an eye and unfortunately you alone aren't capable of handling this many brutes at once. With being overwhelmed and outnumbered you had no choice but to lay down your weapons and surrender. Damn what a day this turned out to be.

2BDamned sat at his desk, his face cupped in his hands with a useless intercom at his side washing out any silence with static. He already knew he had to come up with a plan. Actually, no. He'll need multiple. But the thought of you already dead kept creeping around in his mind and it's not like he'll have the time to even lay anything out. He was pulled from his intrusive thoughts by a pair of hands on his shoulders. He craned his neck to see a pair of red goggles staring down at him expressionlessly. But through those sets of glasses he knew well that Hank was just as worried as he was. 

Deimos leaned against the door, focusing on puffing his cigar in an effort to soothe his racing mind. The hacker looks over to Doc with a stream of smoke flowing from his lips. "So what's the plan, bossman?" His voice was rather cracked but he didn't seem to care. 2B leaned back into his chair for a moment and shook his head. "We'll have to wing it. We'll still take precautions, but unfortunately I doubt that there's a plan that'll help us in time if we're to bring them back alive." The last bit in that sentence was the most sour in his mouth. Just the idea alone of bringing back a corpse instead of their lover sent the room to a stillness. Sanford broke the silence with little hesitation. "Look, we don't know if they're dead. Our best bet is to tackle this head on." 2B huffs with a subtle nod. "I've found the location where they're being taken. You go on ahead and I'll give you the coordinates as soon as possible."

-

You were only half awake before you could process a jarring pain going across your jaw. It felt like your very bone was crushing itself in. "Rise and shine, cupcake. Got you a couple questions." Your eyes snap open to an empty room that's only occupied by a few agents, one of them being a commander towering above you decorated with numerous badges and medals. You could taste copper in your mouth before the pain in your jaw began to rear in. You can see the hilt of the agent's gun smeared with your own blood but was thoroughly wiped clean from a cloth with one swipe. You try to move but look down to see your wrists strapped to a table. You couldn't kick your legs away either as they were tied firmly to the chair. You gave a sideways glanced sneer as the agent passed by and growled, but he only chuckled to himself with amusement. He lifted your chin up by the handle of his gun as he cocked his head. "Hmm. So we can make this easy-" you feel the metal digging into your chin, you hold yourself from wincing at the pain. Lest you give him the satisfaction that he's causing easy pain. "OR.. we can make this as grueling for you as possible." You only glared at him for a moment before hissing a response. "If you think I'm saying anything then you're shit out of luck." The agent's malicious grin slowly fades into a snarl, knocking you in your temple by the barrel. Your head was throbbing down your spine and you were choking back sobs the second contact was made.

"Then I think it's time for some fun here."

One agent rolls in a trolley assorted with knives, tape, rags and anything else that's imaginable in a cliche torture setup. You knew by now that you were in it for the long haul.

-

Sanford's grip on the wheel grew tighter each passing minute and each minute grew more tense for all of them. They already got situated with the directions 2B gave them so now they await the approaching building they now see in the distance. The closer it came to view the more bloodlusted Hank became. He was practically shaking in his seat. 

Finding a broken structure to park behind, Sanford and the rest grab hold of their weapons and shuffle out of the truck. Peeking around the corner, Sanford can see just a few agents standing guard outside. He motions for Deimos and Hank to make their move and on cue they slink between the broken buildings and rubble till they were at blank range with the idle agents. 

Before they knew what even struck, Deimos point blanks the two agents through the head leaving brain matter to paint the outside doors. He smirks with that toothy grin of his and glances over to Hank. "Like the decor?"

Hank simply grunts and walks over to the quickly made massacre. He glanced at the locked door. There were noticeable digital locks blocking it, in which he glanced at Deimos while demandingly tapping the mechanism.

Deimos nods as he connects his tablet to the terminal. With a few inputs he's already broken through the security. "Alright ya hunkachunks you're turn." The doors slid open on que letting Hank and Sanford pass by with Deimos following behind. Just rounding the corner did they run into multiple agents patrolling the halls. They stood for a second before one took a quick shot at Hank, which barely grazed his shoulder. Clutching his sword Hank made quick work with the front few agents, gashing through their heads like a cantaloupe. The rest were left to the other two. Sanford hooked one by the neck, pulling a chunk of flesh and artery out in the process, leaving the grunt to gargle and choke in his own blood as he toppled over. Deimos meanwhile rained bullets on the remainders all while casually lighting a cig with his other free hand.

Unfortunately, they've left one alive evidently as they noted bloodied footsteps leading out towards a separate hallway. "Tsk. We better get moving, they're gonna be setting that alarm off any second now and we sure as hell don't need the company right now." Hank didn't need to be told twice before heading off with Sanford following right behind, leaving Deimos in the dust. 

"Wh- HEY WAIT UP!"

-

Your body was practically numb yet it felt so pained that it was almost like everything in your skin was ablaze. Your flesh hung loosely from your arms with one being completely broken, deep cuts littered your entire body, you've been nearly drowned multiple times, the skin from your back burned and despite all of it you've never said a single thing to expose your lovers and they've seemed to be finally giving up.Their patience with you has run thin by now. The commander sighs as he rubs his temples in frustration. It was clear none of them are getting anywhere with you information wise. He snatched his papers with little care and motions for an agent from behind. "It seems like we have wasted our time. Have the techs prepare the labs for their reformat process." Your drained eyes could only glance at him in response. His horrific smirk returned to his face while he watched the remaining colors in your skin drain. He knew that you knew what it meant. "Hmm. We could use another Mag unit. Been running low lately." Two agents untie your restraints only to each grab you by the arm on each side and drag you to the door. You didn't have the energy to scream anymore as the pain worsened from their tight grip. They lead you out of the interrogation room and into the open hall. The hallways were endless and bustling with agents guarding every door that there was in sight. Your tired feet could barely keep up with the two causing you to nearly stumble multiple times. Which in turn caused one of the agents to yank on your mangled arm as a warning each time you trip.

You all reach a room near the end of the hall, the doorways which stood five times as large as the usual doors you've passed by. You knew this was the place. You attempt to push your feet back into the ground but they simply tug your arm hard enough to where it nearly pops out of place. The doors slid open, with a few scientists who were expecting them to greet the agents. The lab's interior was likely two stories tall by itself just by looking around. Scientists scattered everywhere with paperwork or clipboards in hand, not paying you or the agents any mind. Rows of magnification chambers aligned the wall, most seeming to be occupied but a few. The commander who was trailing behind signaled the scientists to open the nearest chamber. The chamber doors came alive with a hiss as it swung wide. The interior practically looked like that of an iron maiden. In seconds you were forced inside and strapped against the base, only then to witness the doors seal you away before given the time to process. Your voice was so choked up that you couldn't even scream. Everything inside was pitch black. Your only senses you had left were the outside noises of chatter. Most of the techs were already booting up the machine but that's not before sirens wailed throughout the building, sending the workers jumping out of their own skins. Gunfire and hollering from afar behind the steel doors grew ever so slightly. 

Multiple agents in the room scattered around like rats gathering their weapons, running into the fray outside while the techs fled to the nearest exit. Some cowardly agents stayed inside to "monitor" you. But anyone would know well that they were too busy shitting bricks and couldn't even accept the fate that's slowly approaching them. The commander growled, striding over to a group of said cowards. He towered the remaining agents and snagged one by the collar. "Get your asses out there. Figure out who's going to be the one to watch the runt." He threw the smaller agent down as he turned heel and vanished among the panicked crowd, leaving them to fend for themselves.

The first agent made a suggestion to stay but was cut off by the other. "NO FUCKING WAY! YOU DEAL WITH WHAT'S OUT THERE SINCE ALL YOU DO IS LAY WORK ON EVERYONE ELSE BUT YOURSELF!" At this point both are nearly in a fist fight with each other 

Hank busts open a sealed vent grate from above the lab, rolling in with Deimos and Sanford behind.

Hank was the first to interrupt the argument, in fact, end it by putting a blade straight through the agent's head. The other backed away before he found his head rolling across the hard floor with his body leaving nothing but a lake of blood the second it dropped with a loud thump. You could only hear a few more shouts that were cut with the sound of choking gurgles. Maybe a few gunshots too but it fell rather quiet before you heard some familiar voices on the other side. 

"Holy shit they were already starting the process."

"Can you get them out?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Just gimme a few minutes."

It felt like the next coming of the Maddening till the chamber doors finally unlocked itself and swung open. You squint at the sudden light assaulting your eyes. Sanford's glasses couldn't even hide the visible mix of excitement and concern he had the second he saw you. The first thing he had to do was pull you in a tight embrace into his large arms but you whimper at the pain from the touches on the wounds. He jumped and let you go with numerous apologies. Deimos came around the corner and winced at the sight of your mangled body. "Holy shit…" He muttered under his breath. Sanford picks you up bridal style with Deimos trailing behind. You can hear more assault in the background. Assuming Hank is keeping the ongoing army at a distance while the two come and rescue you.

You lean against his chest, getting slightly woozy from the loss of blood which didn't go unnoticed by him. He gently nudged you back awake. "Hang in there, we're not that far." 

Hank, covered head to toe with gore, marched towards the three of you with his hands practically shaking as they reached for you. The second he laid his eyes on your injuries, something in him snapped, but he had enough in him to refrain from any harsh actions. For now. He'll make sure the agency regrets what they did. He looked to Sanford and Deimos with a huff and nodded back towards the exit.

-

The drive back was silent and exhausting but nobody complained as long as you and the rest were together. Sitting comfortably in Hank's lap, he carefully combed his fingers through locks of your hair while you rested your head on his chest. His warmth and steady pulse brings a feeling of drowsiness only stronger as it pulls you into a sound embrace.

You woke up and found yourself bandaged, arm casted and, thankfully, free of pain. You quickly noticed you were sandwiched between two sleeping mercs. How long were you out? Sanford had one arm draped over you and Deimos, who held you close by your waist with his face nuzzled into your shoulder. The stubbles on his chin tickling against your back. Even though you can barely move your head you can hear the sound of keys on a keyboard clicking languidly, most likely Doc working on everything that's not been caught up on. The smell of nicotine and sterilizer overwhelm your senses as you still try to get a hold of your surroundings. You can feel the bed underneath you slowly lifting then falling in a steady rhythm. You felt underneath you, instead of sheets you felt the soft cotton of a tank top. Looking up you were greeted with a familiar set of goggles staring at you. One hand was under his head as support while the other reached over Sanford to brush away the hair in your face. You melt into his touch as he cups your face and gently strokes your cheek idly. You gently press into his touch before letting sleep overtake you once more.

You're back with the ones you love most.

You were home again.