#ask-tricky-and-hank

[doostyaudi]

can you draww tricky strangling hank. im in a mood.

Yea alr

[suicidetan]

PSSSSTTT!! You know you can interact with me on Bluesky and my Strawpage, right? Huehuehuehue.

[beemers-hell]

So, we know you self ship (or do the most oc x canon, ig) with Tricky, is he your favorite character? Or is Hank since you draw him more? /gen question

Tricky most def is my fav overall! I wouldn't have a tattoo of the dude if he wasn't my number one lol

However, this does bring up an interesting conundrum I have, which is that I think I have 3 favs in madness? But all bc of different reasons. Like, Tricky is my number one fav overall as mentioned, I wouldn't have started doing oc x canon so aggressively with him and Eb if he weren't lol, but I'd also say Hank and Doc are my favs!

I break it down like this:

Tricky - Favorite Overall, I would marry this fucking guy

Hank - Favorite from a narrative standpoint, what can I say I'm simple and I get attached to the protagonists of the series I love lol

Doc - Favorite from an Intrigue standpoint, I think he's the most fascinating character in the series because we don't fully understand what his goals are or what he's fully capable of!

[mysteryfox1]

Any plans for Christmas?

[sewer-sermon]

i must tell the world about stringlights. i must. i must.

[griseldabanks]

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Requested by GracielleGrace

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Hank and Connor Prompt: "I'm still mad at you. A broken elevator won't change that. Get away from me. That's YOUR side."

>>ACCESSING MEMORY LOG

>11/26/2038

>16:32:58

“Oh, what now?”

“It would appear the elevator is stuck.”

“Yeah, no sh—“

>>PROFANITY LIMIT REACHED. INITIATING HANK ANDERSON PROFANITY FILTER v1.02

“Yeah, no sheep, Sherlock. Fudge.”

“Not to worry, Lieutenant. I'll call for assistance now.”

“Oh, you'll call for assistance. Great. All my problems are solved.”

>>CONTACTING NEAREST MAINTENANCE ANDROID

>>SENDING LOCATION

>>CONFIRMATION RECEIVED

“It's most likely a simple electrical failure. The maintenance android should have us out in ten minutes.”

“Oh, Santa Claus, another android, just what we need. Well, as long as this one doesn't leave us both for dead.”

“I feel I should apologize again for chasing the deviant instead of coming to your assistance, Lieutenant. It wasn't that I was unconcerned for your safety. My calculations indicated the chance of your survival was approximately 89%, and so it seemed to me—”

“To heck with you and your flipping calculations! You're full of sheep and you know it. All you care about is your stupid flipping mission, you—oh, why am I even talking to you? It's like arguing with my flipping refrigerator.”

“I understand your anger, and I sincerely apologize for my actions. I will prioritize your safety in future.”

“Bull. Sheep. I ain't buying any of that sugar-coated crap. You're just saying that to get on my good side. Where the heck is that android?”

>>CONSULTING...

“ETA 7 minutes.”

“Santa, this is the longest ten minutes of my life.”

“Studies have shown that time appears to pass more slowly when you are agitated. Perhaps it would be best if we shook hands and started on a fresh—“

“No. I'm still mad at you. A broken elevator won't change that. Get away from me. That's your side.”

“My apologies.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Okay, how much time now?”

“Six minutes.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.”

“Lieutenant, I....”

“What now?”

“Never mind. I have no desire to aggravate you further.”

“Oh, just spit it out already. Not like I've got anything better to do.”

“I...merely wish to say that I am trying.”

“Right. Whatever.”

“You're right to say that I'm a machine. I'm not a human like you. I'm sure that, were you in my position, your feelings, your emotions, would lead you to make the right decision. However...I don't have emotions. I can only simulate them. There are certain scripts and protocols I am programmed with that allow me to approximate human behavior. But you're right. At the end of the day, I am nothing but 1's and 0's.”

“Hmph. Yeah. That's the difference between me and you.”

“No. The difference between us is that I am trying to bridge the gap, and you are not.”

“Screw you.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Look. It's just...aw, heck.”

“I believe now it's my turn to say 'spit it out.'”

“Yeah, yeah. Look...we're supposed to be partners. For better or for flipping worse. And when your partner is hanging onto a roof by one flipping hand, you forget about whatever perp you're chasing and go make sure your partner doesn't flipping fall to his death, okay?”

“I understand.”

“No you don't. You just told me you don't have emotions, so how could you? But maybe you could at least simulate a minimum amount of concern for your flipping partner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now tell that android to hurry up so we can get out of here and I can stop looking at your stupid face.”

[carbonfiction]

how does logan feel about short girls

Okay as a tall girlie this was tricky to make not sound silly (even tho it probably, looking back over it, it sound a little cliche??)

But Ohhhh he would absolutely love them!

I stand by the fact that logan, under all that gruff and grumpy exterior, is a sweetheart. He is a lover, even if sometimes he struggles with emotions or is sometimes scared of it, he loves so deeply and truly. So i, personally, view him a someone who doesnt really care for appearance. He just cares how kind someone is, if their heart is three times bigger than the world deserves.

Therefore, i do gotta say for this specifically, im feeling very early logan?? (Shock horror) The X1-2, fluffy cat hair and cosy clothes kinda vibe? Meaning He'd still love you if you were shorter, but hes loving you in the little shit (affectionate) way.

Hes standing beside you and gently (hardly even touching) resting an arm on your head or shoulder.

Hes asking how the weather is all the way down there (honestly you're not even that short- its ridiculous)

He's calling you short stack, pipsqueak or toots in conversation, careless to the little daggers your eyes glare at him. This however, does give you a valid excuse to call him kitty back tho!!

He's even, and this is we're he's a real lil shit, listening to you walking to the kitchen from down the hall and purposely placing something you're going to need higher up.. The thing is though, hes timing it so he's the only one around when it happens!! Its "A complete mystery that one bub, must be hank...or Scott.. You know, s' Probably Scott." if you then question him about how its always him around to help when this happens!!

I mean, Its not like he does it so you do that cute little stompy huff and ask him to grab it?? because why in the hells would he do that?? (And also bc god forbid you try to climb on the counters-)

He also take great amusement when you try borrow his shirts/hoodies. They dont just sit oversized.. Oh no, they fully swamp you; but at least they are the peak of comfort. Just.. Dont try on his sweats, odds are you'll break a leg from the amount of drag behind you..

[novamariestark]

Give Your Heart A Break [Part 2]

Summary: 4 months since your blind date with Hank. But your ex refuses to let you be happy.

Warnings: bad writing 🤣 the ending did not come out the way it plays in my head, fluff, some angst, hurt, abusive ex, kidnapping, threats, death, lmk if i missed any

Word count: 2113

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

You should have told him. You should have told Hank about the envelopes, the pictures, the threatening phone calls. But you didn’t, and that’s why you’re chained to a pipe in some mangy old warehouse.

Erin told you to tell Hank, and you were going to, but you had other things on your mind, and you kinda... forgot.

It’s been 4 months since your blind date, and you and Hank continued your relationship whilst still keeping it professional at work. Well... as well as you could. I mean, working side by side with the man you loved was a little tricky sometimes. There were times when you thought you would combust if you didn’t touch him, hold him, kiss him. But you didn’t.

Maybe you should have listened to the threats. Maybe you should have done as you were told and broken up with Hank. You should’ve known that any shred of happiness you had would be taken from you. Why did you even bother trying to be happy. He was never going to let you. You were stupid to even try.

By now, everyone knew about you and Hank despite the fact that you two didn’t act like a couple at work. The first giveaway was the fact that he spent more time with the team and occasionally joined them at Molly’s.

Alvin was the first one to figure it out, followed shortly by Trudy. Adam was the last one to find out, and he didn’t believe it when he did. He received the deadliest death glare when he remarked that you were way out of Hank’s league.

And if they didn’t know before, they would now. Hank was even more out of control than usual. Anyone who had anything to do with your ex was in his sight, even someone who just passed him in the street.

Everyone now had pretty much found out your entire history, something you really didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want them to look at you with pity or worse, like you were weak. You especially didn’t want Hank to know, despite Erin telling you over and over that he wouldn’t look at you differently than he does. But you didn’t want to risk it. You also didn’t want to taint the relationship by even mentioning that prick.

Well, so much for that.

“Wakey wakey princess,” a sick, cold voice chuckles from beside you. A hand comes its way through your hair, gathering up a fistful and yanks your head backwards. You’re met with him. His face. His twisted, psychotic face. The only time you saw him smile was when he was hurting you, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,”

“I warned you,”

“What part of ‘We’re over’ don’t you understand?”

“You don’t get to decide that, Bitch,” he snapped, throwing your head back against the stone wall. You couldn’t see your head but you could feel something dripping from your skull.

“You think you can whore around and there wouldn’t he consequences?” He growled. Pain shoots around your body like a ball in a pinball machine as he stamps, kicks and slaps you anywhere and everywhere.

You bring your knees to your chest, doing you best to shield yourself. Shield your stomach. Another thing you hadn’t told Hank.

But he was about to find out anyway. He and Erin were on their way to your apartment to look for all the messages and things you’d received from your ex.

He found the texts, the voicemails, the photos of you two together going back to when you first started seeing each other but his face was crossed out of every single one. With something red. Lipstick. The same shade he insisted you wear for pleasing him.

As he moved to Investigate further, something caught his eye. A pregnancy test. His hand slowly reached for it, his fingers wrapping around it as he lifted it up to read it.

Positive.

“Did you know about this?” He asked turning around, the test coming into Erin’s view.

She looked at it and shook her head, “No. I didn’t know,” she sighed, “if I knew, I would have told you the second we knew she was missing,”

From then on, his temper was even more uncontrollable. Not only was the woman he loved in danger, but now his unborn child. And he’d stop at nothing to save them.

---

The room was cold, dark and dirty. Splatters of your blood adorned the floor and the wall. A chair in the middle of the room where he sat and watched you suffer. You have no idea how long you’ve been there and you’re starting lose hope slightly.

Your ex was completely crazy. More so than you thought. He somehow knew things. Things you hadn’t even had chance to tell Hank.

“Now we’re just waiting for another guest before we get onto the main event,” he told you, his tone dripping with something twisted that made you sick to your stomach.

You almost didn’t ask; you were scared to. But you had to know. It would have driven you mad, “What’s the main event?”

“Now, now sweetheart. I don’t want to spoil it for you,” he replied, stroking your hair. Like he did when you were his. His pet. You closed your eyes, your body shivering as you tried to stop yourself from crying. You didn’t want to go back. You couldn’t do it again. But with the threats and the letters, did you ever actually escape him. Or was it just some stupid fairytale you told yourself.

Right now, you thought the latter. You were stupid to believe that it was over and now you’d subjected your unborn child to it too.

It was night now, the small window at the end of the building completely filled with the black of night. The only light you had was the small light bulb dangling over your cage. Yeah cage. That was what it was. An actual visible cage similar to the one you’d been in since you moved in with him.

Like many, you didn’t see his true self until you were trapped. You moved far from your family and for years they had no idea where you were or if you were okay. The only person you had was Erin and it was just by chance that you met her and somehow she knew the situation you were in and if you ever wanted to leave, she gave you her card to call her for help.

Maybe you should have gone back home. Moved back in with your parents whilst you got back on your feet. But them you never would have met Hank... and that would have been a damn shame. The things that he made you feel you thought only existed in the books. You never thought you could feel so loved or that the simplest things he would do for you would bring you so much joy

The sound of screeching tires and slamming doors cut through your thoughts like a sharp ass blade. You blinked a couple of times, the hours you had spent in this shithole and the pain he’d put you through taking it’s toll. Were you hallucinating? Or were they really here?

Then you heard it. His voice. The sexy, gravelly tone completely unmistakable.

“CPD! Get on the ground!” he barked as soon as he barged through the door. No cover, just full on walked in and demanded he get on the floor. Your ex’s rough hands tangled in your hair, yanking you off the ground. You let out a strangled cry, your knees nearly giving out as you were forced upright and shoved in front of him like a shield. Hank growled, his gun still aiming at him, but also at you, “Don’t give me another reason to put you in the ground!”

His grip on you tightened, you could feel his breath wafting against your ear,  “You’re not taking her from me again!” he spat. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed against your stomach. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears you thought it drowned out everything else, “One wrong move and your kid is gone,”

Okay that you heard.

You felt the steel dig deeper into your skin as he pressed it harder against you.

Your chest tightened, you were scared and you felt helpless. All you could do was stand there and let him threaten you and your baby.

You could feel the life inside of you, so fragile, so vulnerable, and completely at the mercy of your asshole ex.

As his voice echoed in your ear, taunting Hank with the death of his unborn baby, something inside you shifted. Sure the fear was there, practically suffocating you, but something else was there too. A fierce, protective instinct that you hadn’t known could burn this hot.

You let him take so much from you and you sure as hell weren’t going to let him take your baby. Not now. Not ever.

You shifted just a fraction, leaning your body enough to shield your stomach from the blade. You didn’t want him to know what you were up to. You didn’t want to provoke him either. But the instinct to protect your child overpowered the fear that had paralysed you.

“I swear to God, if you touch her—if you hurt her—” Hank growled.

Your ex scoffed, tightening his grip on you once more, “You think you can protect her? You think you can take her from me again? You’ll watch her die before you even get close.”

In one sharp movement, you lunged backward, throwing your head back and cracking it against his jaw. You thought it might be enough to loosen his grip. He didn’t. But the shock of the hit made him stagger backwards and gave you enough wiggle room to get away from him, if only by a little. He still had a bruising grip on your wrist but now he was completely unguarded.

“You bitch!” he sneered lunging towards you, knife pointing directly at your stomach ready to make good of his threat. But he never got to you. The deafening sound of gunshots echoed around the room. One, two, three. And they were followed by a thud.

You thought you knew who fired the shots but if you put money on it, you would have just lost. Of course Hank was going to shoot him but someone beat him to it. Everyone turned, looking at the one who had killed him.

Erin.

She would have been your second guess. After all, she did threaten your ex the one time she met him.

Your breath caught in your throat as the reality of it settled in. Your ex was dead. He wasn’t going to come after you anymore. He couldn’t hurt you anymore. You could practically feel the relief washing over you.

Your legs were shaking but they were still moving towards him. You felt as though you were about to crash into the ground at any second, but you didn’t care, you needed him. You didn’t stop until you were in his arms. Safe and warm.

Hank’s arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you close, pressing you against him as though he was you might disappear if he loosened his grip even for a second.

You couldn’t hold it anymore. The dam that had held your tears for the past few days finally came crashing down, every single drop following suit.

“Hey, hey,” his voice was low and gentle. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he gently stroked your scalp. “It’s over, you’re safe now. I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried into his leather clad shoulder.

Hank moved back slightly, his hand untangling from your hair to cup your cheek, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He told you, his lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m so glad you’re okay,”

“I was going to tell you after work,” you said, one hand going to your stomach, “Are you mad?”

His brow furrowed as he stared at you, “Mad w–why would I be mad?”

You bit your lip, looking at your feet because you were afraid that if you look at him, you’d be right, "I—I thought maybe... you wouldn’t want this. I mean we never talked about it, and I—"

You were cut off by his lips pressing against yours, “Of course I want this,”

“I want everything with you”

[A/N] I'm sorry 😭 I had Erin kill him because we all know that if Hank's girl and baby were threatened and treated this way, he wouldn't just kill them, he'd hurt them first.

[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.

[goosedoes-fics]

Madness Headcanons

Madcom x Reader

Content Warnings: I talk about tits a lot sorry. Also mentions of organ failure and transfem Tricky

Notes: Trying to get back into the writing groove. Sorry if this is shit

HANK J WIMBLETON

If you didn't know ASL before meeting them, they would communicate primarily with hand and head movements. He's too cool to use a notepad

Not a big fan of PDA, but in private he's quite affectionate and cuddly. theyre just a big ass guard dog cmon

Hank Motherfucker Wimbleton what are you doing here????? waiting for them to play gangnam styl.

DEIMOS

Transgenda

I like to imagine Dedmos's rock face works similarly to Hank's metal jaw. It's just a rock jaw. Rock lobster.

He is an ASSHOLE (affectionate)

The kind of person to like. Punch your shoulder when they laugh

Their ideal first date is stealing the declaration of independence

If you don't make him, he will go days without showering he is SO smelly anfd SO stinky. He has GREASY ASS HAIR i just know it

SANFORD

If Hank is a guard dog he's one of those goofy dogs that look like bear cubs

VERY big fan of PDA he will smooch you anywhere. everywhere. any time any place any day

He takes missions more seriously than Deimos but outside of missions he is just a big fat goofball

I'm going to place my hands directly on his man tits. anyways where was I

He lost his nipples in The War

I'm kidding. He lost them during top surgery.

At this point i'm aiming the transgenderification beam at all of them. nobody is safe. BE TRANSGENDER

DOC

Sometimes he wears his hair down and it's like a mullet w/ shaved sides

Out of all of them he's the most adverse to PDA but! In private he is very sweet. very silly

Hey are you okay with being tested on? Yeah? Cool will you drink this organ failure potion I brewed

Plays the piano sometimes! He might serenade you if you ask nicely

TRICKY

BE TRANSGENDER. (shoots her with my transfem beam)

Yeah so he/she bigender Tricky is real. Krinkels told me himself

He is like a big weird dog as well. He might lick your face (don't let him zed spit is slightly acidic)

Probably likes PDA the most. She will make out with you very grossly and sloppily in the middle of McDonalds

Very soft very fluffy. Which is surprising considering how many times he's died

His tail is somewhat prehensile, he could dangle from a tree branch if he tried hard enough

CHURCH AND JORGE

They are very good at sharing!

Sorry not sorry yandere enjoyers but they would NOT kill someone for looking at you they would be like haha yeah everyone should look at our awesome fucking partner theyre so cool and hot

Sometimes they forget how big they are compared to you so they might try to like flop over on you. Pigpile on the small one

Very prone to roughhousing and play fighting but they'll be gentle if you ask

BEEFY BOYS 😍

[wither-shadow]

do you think you could do some headcannons with dbh connor x reader where (reader) is really stressed about something (your choice!) and Connor comforts them? :)

Ofccc I've been waiting for this one!

He doesn't notice much because of his time with hank but when he does notice he wants to know what is making you upset (let's say you work in the dpd with them and you have a tricky case that is stressing you out)

"What is wrong dear?" Connor asked you curiously as he watched you hunch over your desk, looking at the files once again to see if you missed anything as you groan from the growing pain in your back

"It's this case. It's untraceable. I can't find a single crack in it" you say before stretching out your back hearing the pops in your spine. You hunch back over, feeling better already

"Perhaps I can help?" He said carefully to not make you upset. "I'd appreciate that" you said with a small smile as he rubbed your back to help sooth you

[mysteryfox1]

any plans for Valentine's Day?

(Sorry for this very late response 😅 )

[beemers-hell]

Wait, the twins aren't twins in Happy AU??? why if we may ask :0

Cause Ettie was born before Eb met Tricky in the Happy AU, meaning Abbi is their little half sibling!

These were some of the first Happy AU Eb doodles I made, all the way back in 2022! This predates Ettie and Abbi's existence by a few months, but as you can see, the baby in the photos is deaf, which just lines up well with Ettie perfectly, so why make them a separate character yanno? So that means Ettie's other bio parent is unknown, but they were raised by Eb and Tricky (as well as the rest of the polycule, ofc!) Abbi is still fathered by Hank (or IG Skittles, in this AU) but that happens a year or two later!

[griseldabanks]

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Requested by GracielleGrace

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Hank and Connor Prompt: "Dude. It's three in the morning."

WARNING: Major spoilers for Connor's storyline under the cut!

Connor stepped up onto the porch and hesitated, finger poised 2.3 centimeters away from the doorbell.

>>RING DOORBELL?

>>DO NOT RING DOORBELL?

He wasn't used to indecision. For his entire existence, the path ahead had been clearly laid out in front of him by his programming and CyberLife's directives. But ever since he had become a deviant, Connor had discovered the terrifying world of choices. He could no longer consult his computer code to determine priorities. Now he had to decide on those for himself.

How did humans manage to face a million choices like this every day without their brains melting? Well, that was why he stood on Hank Anderson's porch, after all.

>>RING DOORBELL – [1 POSSIBLE BRANCH] HANK WILL BE ANGRY

> HANK WILL REFUSE TO SPEAK [12.728% LIKELIHOOD]

> HANK WILL ENGAGE IN CONVERSATION [87.272% LIKELIHOOD]

>>DO NOT RING DOORBELL – [230498596 POSSIBLE BRANCHES]

In the end, perhaps the choice wasn't as hard to make as he'd originally thought. So, after hesitating for 1.84 seconds, Connor pressed the doorbell.

A cacophony of low, booming barks met the loud, grating sound of the doorbell, punctuated by muffled curses and sounds of sleepy protest. A fond smile found its way to Connor's mouth.

Connor could hear the shuffling sounds of Hank stumbling over to the door, then a moment of silence as he peered through the peephole. A muttered curse, the sound of locks clicking, and then the door swung open.

“Dude. It's three in the morning.”

“I apologize for disturbing you at such an hour,” Connor said, falling back on habit and the protocols he'd developed for interacting with Hank. “I can, of course, wait until a more appropriate time....”

“Oh, shut up and get inside,” Hank growled, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him through the door.

As Hank locked the front door again, Connor scanned his surroundings.

>>>MUTED TV (LOCAL NEWS CHANNEL)

>>>EMPTY BEER BOTTLES

>>>HALF-FINISHED PIZZA (PEPPERONI, CHEESE-STUFFED CRUST)

>>>CRUMPLED BLANKET ON COUCH

{CONCLUSION: HANK WAS SLEEPING ON COUCH}

Connor eyed Hank, who was dressed in sweat pants and a stained white T-shirt, yawning as he rubbed his bleary eyes. His heart rate and his bloodshot eyes indicated he hadn't been getting much sleep—but then, that was the way he'd looked the entire time Connor had known him. At least most of the alcohol seemed to have moved through his system by—

A nudge against his leg brought Connor's attention down to Sumo pawing at him. Sinking down to one knee, Connor obligingly ran his fingers through the huge St. Bernard's thick fur.

“Before you get into whatever was so pressing you had to see me,” Hank grumbled, “I'm gonna hit the head.”

“Of course.”

While waiting for Hank, Connor moved into the kitchen. He was relieved to note that the revolver he'd seen the one other time he'd been here was nowhere in sight.

Yes. Relief. Connor analyzed the sensation, putting a name to the innumerable figures and calculations racing through his brain. An assessment of the probable outcomes posed by the presence of the gun, weighed against the branches of possibility that opened up to them now, because of its absence.

A heady thing, emotion. Connor was glad the more logical side of his brain, that had been trying to suppress and hide the deviance for so long, had faded into the background. He...He liked being able to feel. Not just simulating emotions and projecting them, but feeling them. On the inside.

“Something tells me I'm gonna want coffee for this.”

Connor turned towards the familiar grumbling voice. He watched Hank open a cupboard and pull out a mug that said I Can't Fix Stupid, But I Can Arrest It. He emptied a carafe filled with coffee from the coffee maker that analysis indicated had been sitting there for two days, slid the mug into the microwave, and stood rubbing his eyes while the microwave hummed.

“I would like to apologize again for—“

Hank held up a single finger—not the middle one, which probability would have predicted—and stopped Connor mid-sentence.

>>INSIST?

>>WAIT?

Connor folded his hands and chose patience. Not just because it was what his Hank Anderson Protocol indicated, but because he didn't want to bother Hank any more than necessary. If any of this was truly necessary.

Hank pulled out his cup of coffee, took a sip, then grimaced. Anticipating him based on previous trends, Connor produced the sugar from behind a mass of empty beer bottles on the table, and handed it to him as soon as Hank began to look around for it. Instead of thanks, he only gave Connor a grudging sort of grunt.

Once Hank had dumped an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee and dragged out a chair to sit at the kitchen table, he sighed and said, “Go ahead and sit down, I guess.”

Connor obliged, perching on the edge of the chair and sitting up straight, while Hank slouched over his steaming mug of coffee. Hank peered up at him through messy strands of grey hair.

“You look weird without the uniform.”

Looking down at himself, Connor considered the emotion speeding through his circuits. Was that...self-consciousness? He wore jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, as well as a wool cap that he could pull down far enough to cover the LED on his temple. “I...I don't work for CyberLife anymore, Lieutenant. I used these when I went undercover to Jericho, so I simply....”

Hank waved a hand dismissively. “Hey, I didn't say you look bad. Just weird. But then, you've always looked weird.”

He wasn't smiling, but Connor zeroed in on the minute shifts in the muscles of Hank's face, the way the folds of skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled, the barely-detectable upturn of his lips. To a stranger, it might mean nothing, but Connor had hours upon hours of reference for this particular man, and he could tell in a nanosecond that, though the words sounded insulting, Hank was happy.

Hank is happy to see me. Connor found himself smiling back. Not a carefully-calculated response intended to elicit a particular outcome. No. Just pure instinct.

With a snort, Hank took another gulp of coffee. “Okay, okay. Are you gonna sit there grinning like an idiot all night, or are you gonna tell me why this couldn't wait till morning?”

“Of course.” Connor pulled up the three versions of this conversation he'd already drafted in his mind...then he took another look at Hank, and deleted them. Spontaneity had always reached him more effectively than anything rehearsed.

Lacing his fingers together, Connor leaned forward and rested his elbows gingerly on the grubby table. “The fact of the matter is, Lieutenant—“

“Hank.”

Connor stopped. None of his calculations had predicted this.

Hank rolled his eyes and downed another gulp of coffee. “Just call me Hank, okay? Easier that way.”

“Very well...Hank.” A flurry of code skimmed through his brain in response to this unexpected shift, but he would have to analyze it later. “As I'm sure you know, negotiations have begun to cede a portion of land to androids to use as a place to live in peace.”

“Yeah, I've been watching the news. Saw your ugly mug a few times,” he added with a faint smirk, “standing next to your leader.”

Connor nodded. “Markus and several delegates have been chosen to go to Washington, D.C., to meet with the President. I will also be part of the delegation.”

With a muttered curse and a chuckle, Hank looked him up and down. “Well, look at you. Just a few days ago, you were chasing down low-lifes with me, and now you're meeting the President herself! Surprised you bothered to come give me the time of day.”

“That's just the thing, Hank,” Connor said slowly. “We leave at 6:00 sharp, but I wanted to speak to you before I leave.”

He began running calculations of Hank's possible responses, the likely outcomes for different things he could say, but then he closed his fists and aborted those calculations before they could be completed. He had already made the decision to come here and ask this question; there was no sense in second-guessing it now.

“I don't know what to do with my life now, Hank. And I wanted to...ask for your advice.”

Eyebrows raised, Hank sat back in his chair. “You're asking me for life advice?” He looked around the room, as if to point out its general lack of order and cleanliness.

But Connor didn't take his eyes off Hank's face. “I was developed as a prototype investigator by CyberLife. I was assigned to investigate cases of android deviants with you. My mission, my sole purpose in life, was to put an end to deviancy and protect CyberLife and its assets. But then...look what happened.” He opened his hands and looked at them, though of course there were no visible differences between him and a Connor model fresh off the assembly line. “Now I'm a deviant.”

“Well, it sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, setting up the new android state or whatever. So what's the holdup?”

Connor frowned, his mind running down the same pathways he'd been mulling over for the past few days. “That's a job for politicians. Leaders. Visionaries, like Markus. I know the reason I was chosen for the delegation was primarily that I have specialized programming that will help me protect the others. Androids programmed for housekeeping or medical care will not be prepared for potential snipers, after all.”

Hank swirled the last of his coffee around his cup. “But you're not just a security android, either. You worried about what you'll do after you get back?”

“I was designed to be a detective,” Connor said quietly, “and I know I'm not bound by my design anymore, but....”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Connor searched himself, but all he found was a mess of 1's and 0's, an endless labyrinth of code that led nowhere. “I...I don't know.”

“Okay. I know you haven't exactly been alive that long, but when were you the happiest? What were you doing? Where were you?” Hank raised his mug to drain it.

It took approximately 0.000001 seconds to retrieve the memory. “In the Eden Club.”

Hank choked on his coffee. Connor immediately got to his feet and slapped his hand against Hank's back with carefully modulated force to dislodge anything caught in his windpipe.

When he had control over his breathing again, Hank looked up at Connor with streaming eyes. “The Eden Club? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Connor said, trying to understand such an emotional reaction to his words. “Investigating the scene of the crime...tracking down the deviants...both of our skills complementing each other...it was quite...fulfilling.”

Hank gave him a look Connor interpreted as 'unimpressed.' “And the half-naked androids pole-dancing right in front of you had nothing to do with it.”

The clues clicked together in Connor's mind, and he finally understood. “Physical attraction and sexual acts were not part of my programming, Hank,” he said, taking his seat again. “Such things would distract me from my mission. Though I suppose I could learn....”

“Never mind,” Hank said sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Forget I asked. So what you're saying is you like murder investigations.”

“It's what I was made for, and it's where my skills lie,” Connor said, nodding. “But...more than that...I enjoyed investigating them with a partner. I've carried out investigations on my own, but...they were always more satisfactory when I was with you.”

Connor wasn't sure he understood the expression on Hank's face. He looked...pleased and displeased at the same time. Perhaps he was trying to pretend he didn't have a small smile on his face, though it was plain to see. Human emotions could be very complicated sometimes.

“I think...I would like to continue investigating crimes,” Connor said slowly. “And...I would like to be your partner.”

Hank grunted. “Well, I doubt Detroit PD would even look at your resume, after everything that's happened. Maybe androids like you will take over all our jobs eventually, but it ain't gonna happen anytime soon.”

“Yes.” Connor nodded, mind whirring away at the problem. “Overall, the tide of public opinion has been turning in favor of androids in light of our non-violent protest...but there are still many people who fear or even hate androids.”

“Some of them might change their minds,” Hank said quietly.

Connor's mental circuits brought up a memory dated only a few days ago. The day he'd infiltrated CyberLife, and Hank had recognized him for who he was, even alongside a non-deviant Connor who looked identical to him. The man who hated androids, looking into his eyes and seeing the humanity there.

“Some won't,” Connor said. “I fear the rate of crimes against androids will rise exponentially, particularly before laws are put in place and enforced.”

Hank leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Even though he didn't have an LED indicating his mind processing what Connor had said, he thought he could almost see Hank's thoughts ticking away behind his eyes. “Sounds like you folks need law enforcement of your own.”

“Indeed.” Their eyes met, and Connor smiled. He could be wrong, but he thought perhaps their thoughts ran along the same lines. “Perhaps that's where my future lies.”

Hank nodded, acting nonchalant though another wry smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like a good place to start. But you know...you're a prototype. There aren't a whole lot of other Connors out there, and who's to say they'd all want to be detectives too, when you give them that choice? So it's going to take you a while to get this android police force off the ground.”

“And in the meantime,” Connor finished for him, “I'll need some help to manage the caseload.”

Hank's half-smile turned into a full grin. “You wouldn't happen to be accepting job applications from humans, would you?”

“You know, Hank, I just might.”

[sillydeimos]

🫴 gib post combat au?

-💻🌌

these were my ideas

-tricky is in fact, imprisoned. i imagine it being a sort of rocky like structure in the mountains, you might think 'how can he not just tunnel out using his iconic Clown Drilling Powers' well hes basically a powered down version of tricky now. just dont stand too close otherwise he will reach through the bars. the only people that visit him are doc and sheriff. he talks in lowercase. he constantly asks doc "can clown pretty pretty please be free from his eternal imprisonment clown swears it will only kill a thousand people." and doc's like well no. i think one day tricky calls him out on coming back so often because he's just trying to figure out tricky's past knowledge of nexus stuff+nevada itself and doc just openly admits that yeah i am doing that. and tricky is like "...clown is depressed you admitted that so fast."

-doc, hank, deimos&sanford have all cut ties with each other. deimos and sanford are still together of course, but they want nothing to do with hank and doc.

-doc and hank have also cut ties with each other. doc is alone cause i don't know if he would have anyone else after that.

-hank is basically indefinite therapy/assisted living cause wow turns out being a living weapon does a lot to your body

-deimos has been off smoking for years now ^_^

-sheriff, however, is thriving. his biggest problem now is having a teenager daughter who shows him tiktok videos so if you think about it he's worse off then everyone else :/

-church and jorge run a gym now its epic and superrrr cozy all the members hang out and listen to hype music

and christoff is still dead forever LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET FUCKED!!!!!!!!!

[madnesshyperfixation]

Madness Combat Masterlist

Here's the Masterlist of all the Madness Combat headcanons and asks made so far!

Hank

General Hank Headcanons Multiple Hanks Happy Hank/Skittles Headcanons

Sanford

General Sanford Headcanons

Deimos

General Deimos Headcanons

2BDamned

General 2BDamned Headcanons

Jeb

General Jeb Headcanons

Tricky

General Tricky Headcanons

Phobos

General Phobos Headcanons

The Employers

General Employer Headcanons

AU's

Pink Madness Combat

White Madness Combat

Gem AU

Cookie Run Kingdom AU Game Stats

HSR AU Game Stats