2bdamned-in-dc

[2bdamned-in-dc]

We Own You

"It's always so nice when an old friend comes to visit, i̴̳͓̟̟̖̗͊̌̈́̎̕s̷̲͚̠͋͆̈̾̀̓͝n̶̨̬̼̤̦̫̪̺̔̌'̶̣̼̃̊̆̊̀͆͑͜͠ṱ̷̨̠͕̑̅͋͆͜ ̷̝̆͑̔̈̑͠͠ȋ̸̘͚̤̠̔̃̎͆̕͠t̵̢̢̩̺̹̬͂̉̈́̏?̷̡͈̳̜̜͇̼͆́̎͜" Phobos' voice was surprisingly chipper, a wide grin plastered on his face. The red windows paint the Director's face in crimson light, an ominous sight for the uninitiated. Doc merely leaned back in his seat, his expression hidden by his mask but still clearly annoyed.

A soldat presented a platter, sitting it on the table before stepping aside. Phobos quietly took one of the cups in hand, pouring himself a glass of what smelt like tea. "P̵͔̬͍̭̖͙̑̃l̵̲͖̽̓̾̓̇́̃͠e̴̡̛̦̤̒͑̓͂̔a̶̢͎͙̋̍͊ś̵̛̫̖́͆̓͂̚ͅe̸̜̩̝̝̮̻͗̽̑̇̈, have yourself a glass as well, make yourself at h̸̡͍̖̻̝̞̰̳̒õ̵̙͍̾̈́͌̄́͠ḿ̶̨̜͚͍͖͗̀́̉ë̷̢̳̩̭͚́͌̆́͛͠͝" Doc could tell there was an underlying meaning to that statement, but he ignored it. Just Phobos trying to get in my head. He took the other cup, carefully pouring tea into the glass.

"Of course, Director. I thank you for your... generosity in letting me speak to you." He tried to keep his tone even, to hide the bitterness at having to speak so politely to the other man. It seemed to appease Phobos, though, his grin growing wider. "It seems you haven't changed since we last saw each other."

"Why would a g̶̞̓̑͊͒̀͘͘o̴̙̮̠̘̗̣̊͛̽̕d̵̡̧̪̟̝̤̗̬͈͎̯̱̈́͗̄́̌̎̔̈͒̈̐͠͝͝ͅͅ ever need to ç̷̨̛͓̩͎̥̭̩̲̪̪̱̲̾͂̒̈́͝h̷̡̡̻̼͙̟̠͍͈̱̼̭̮͇̊͂͌̊͠͝ä̷̢̨͍̠̙̣̺̘̰͔̰̖̠́̍̌̓̎͛͆̕n̶̜͇͙̫͇͒̽̏̐̔̎̃̓̐̇̉͠g̶̙̣̱̟̞͓̪͈͍̙̩̝̙̽̈́́͊͐̂ȅ̸̢̛̖͉̘̗̝̣͉̲̜̓͛̍͛̒͐̉̅͌̓̈́̎̚?̷̧̧̥͍̘̩̠͙͍̮̦̦̆͜" He countered, taking a sip of his tea. Phobos kept his chin held high, staring down at Doc as if he was beneath him.

"When a 'god' dies twice, maybe they should reconsider their tactics." He almost smiled as he saw Phobos' reaction to the statement. Lips curled downward, shoulders tensed, it was a beautiful picture Doc wished he could immortalize.

Phobos crossed his arms, hooking one leg over the other. The sound of the safety of a gun being flicked off was a blatant threat, reminding Doc of where he was. "Watch your tone, T̵̢̩͖̽̋o̶̢̭̩̭̫̱̹̊̅͂͊̇̍͝ḇ̸̨̢̧̨̞͇̫̟̜͎͇̑̾̒̊͋̽̃i̵͍̭͈̼͒á̵̡̧̻͉͕͈͆͋͒̀͌̓̕͜͠͝s̶̡͕̹̻̻͚̫̱͚̦͗̈̓̀̀̀̀͌͊̚͜. You may not work here anymore but that doesn't mean you shouldn't mind your m̴͇̤̰̝̤͍̺̪̪̥̹͑̒͛́̓̿̒͘a̵̢̧͓̟͚̠̪̺̼͇̺͋̀̓̄̾͋̚̚͘͘ņ̴̱̦̳̥̳͚̋͛́̈́̐̌n̵̨̫̠̝͖̗̗̮̮̘̠̥̹̥̈́̕ę̸̘̬̰̬̳͖͇͔̲̜̥͑̊̅̉̈́̈́̅͂̌͗̚r̵̡̪̰̺̖̱͇̰̩̝͖̼̹̃̓̈́͌̿̓̓͒͘͠͝s̷̰͉̬̝̬͎͚͚̠͈̬͎͇̹͎͑̿̀̓̀̆̆̀̾̈́͋̚͠ ̷̡̪̰̰͎̲̦̟̦͔̥̜̝̳͕̔͛̆̀͌́͊̚͝͝w̶̡͙̦̠̦̝͉̦̮̘̌̔̈́́̑͊̅̕͜͠ͅͅĩ̷̧̛̭̥̬̩̉̔̍̾̓̿́̾̌͗͝t̶̤̗̥̭̅̊̇̓ͅh̴̨̛̟͆̿́ ̸̛̗͒̅̌͑̀̿̇́̎͛̉͝͝m̵̝̻̳̖͙͕̤͔͐͘͜͜͜ě̶̡̪̯̣̿̈̇̊̅̀̌̉̄͊͠.̶̛̗̋̈́̑̑͌̽͌̔̒͝"

He shrunk back at the comment, hearing that name used so easily towards himself. Doc nodded, relaxing slightly when he heard the safety click back on. The reaction appeased Phobos, his smirk returning in full force.

"I'm ḡ̷̣̝̖̳̯̗͕̣̓̊̑ļ̸͈͈̌̈́͐́͒͠a̵̛̦͈̜̫͒̃̑͂͛̓̀̓d̴̤̲̞̅ we've come to an understanding. Now, we have matters to d̶̥̞̼̬͐̂͛̀̋̆̂͠į̵͈̫̋̍̔͒́̋̔́̈́̈́͆̆͐͘͘͜ͅͅs̸̡̻̖̼͐̐̇͋̚c̵̳̉̓̆̇̒̉ú̷̪̙̦͆͂́͐́̉͘͘ş̸̛̯̗͎̲͈̭̹̦̭͐͌̈̃͘͘͝͝s̴̡̗͚̯͖̻̙̪͔͊̌̌̆͜͠͝ properly, d̵͎͖̔̄̈́̋̓ọ̶̡̡̣̦͙̈́͊͆̄n̴̦̹̠̘͉̏̎̅͒̎́͑͆̅̍̂̕͝ͅ'̶̛̮͔̺͚̩̺̥͓̪͇̉̍͛̄̒̔̿̈̽̂̊͛͘t̸̡̠͖̮̼̊͊͂̀̃̅̊̊́̈́́͠͝ͅ ̷͙͙͌̀̀̅́̒̚͝ẁ̸̧̡̛̝̤̣̰̻͉̗͆̔̈̀̃͂̾̇͋̽̕̚e̸̳̙̣͋͒̽̄͠?̷̨̨̻̜̳͉̙̗̙̦̘̜̙̰͗̇̂̿̓́́~̵̱̰̪͙̹̦̫̘̬̣̫̈́̊͂͛̈͝"

[2bdamned-in-dc]

If you won't let it happen then go get him

I don't know where he is.

I'll find him though.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

What if he was kidnapped? What if something happened to him? They could've taken him

...

That can't happen.

It won't.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

I think something happened

No one broke in. He may just need some time away to relax for a minute. If he doesn't show back up in a few hours... then I know something happened.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Not even a note?

I checked. There's nothing. Maybe he just went for a supply run..? Even then, he'd usually bring someone else with him.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Hey

Like

What's going on in there?

Hm? Wait. Where's 2B?

He didn't say he was going anywhere.

He always says something before leaving.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

...

...

...

Disconnected.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Gives you-

Little pink ribbon

Hmm. Doc, gift.

Why are you giving it to me?

Because it looks better with you.

It doesn't.

It does. Stop arguing.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Give my muse an item and see how they react!

Things may or may not be added to their official inventory

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Okay that's neglect and abuse of pockets-

Meanies :(

I didn't want this thing. I already have to deal with Shredder getting into my office constantly, I do not have time for this– "pocket" as well.

And are you that surprised with Hank? This is the most wanted man in Nevada we are discussing, isn't it?

[2bdamned-in-dc]

How are things going with the pockets?

Has Hank eaten his' yet?

It is... complicated. I've mostly been ignoring mine. I've had quite a bit of work to do, so it's been relatively easy for me to do so. Hank... I honestly don't know what he's been doing with his little one.

It's fun to throw at the wall. Kinda like a bouncy ball.

I don't think you're meant to do that.

It's fun though.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Where's Sanford and Deimos?

They were out on some work I had for them. Honestly, all four of us have been swamped with work. They're around the safe house more frequently as of late. Not as consistent as me, but they're here sometimes.

Me especially because of... recent events.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

~ they mean you're soulmates ~

Also, you should definitely see their reactions to eachother

...

...

Soulmates?

What a load a bullshit. That stuff isn't real.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

... You both have no idea what the Pockets mean do you? Lol-

Should we?

Just little fuckers. Annoying, really.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Awwwnnn... Tinies

How cute! I knew you both were made for eachother!

Made for each other?–

The only thing made for me and him are bullets in our heads.

Incredibly grim and concerning statement, but yes. What Hank said.

[2bdamned-in-dc]

🤍

(For them both)

The basement office was dark, only illuminated by the screens that littered the wall and desk, dimmed from not being used recently. 2B rested against the wooden desk, admittedly having fallen asleep in the midst of work. Sue him, he'd been surviving off 3 hours of sleep and over 18 cups of coffee for the last 2 days.

His sleep, however, was rudely interrupted by a bag of supplies on top of a cabinet mysteriously clattering to the ground with a loud thud. He jolted awake, realizing he'd slept in the mask and silently cursing himself for doing so.

He arched his back, stretching before glancing over to the bag. He expected to see someone, probably Hank being a nuisance and trying to get his attention for the seventieth time. Except, there wasn't anyone there. Odd. He pushed himself out of his seat, his legs still a tad wobbly as he went to put the bag back where it belonged.

A few files on his desk then fell to the floor, and his instincts instantly made him grab for the serrated knife that rested on his hip. Maybe it was just Shredder, though he'd sternly and very pointedly told Hank to keep the thing out of his office, but something in the back of his mind told him it wasn't.

Slowly approaching the desk, knife at the ready, Doc narrowed his gaze, catching the tiniest of movement and flinging to knife towards it. He heard a small yip, relaxing slightly as he neared the sound. He anticipated seeing the gray cat, or maybe just a rat that had sneaked its way inside but not that.

A small... thing? Grey and tiny, no arms but tiny floating hands. It also weirdly looked like... Hank, sort of? Metal jaw, scars lining its tiny body, though it was missing the monstrous arm, which 2B instantly noted. Dressed up in a tank top and shorts, usually what Hank slept in. It was... cute concerning, to say the least.

~~~

Hank, like most days, had passed out on the couch, having long since given up his "master bedroom" to make a personal armory for himself. No blanket, no pillows, just a massive 6'7" man unconscious on a couch.

Slowly, the giant man rolled himself off the couch, landing onto the ground with a thud. A small groan left the man, glancing up.at the ceiling for a second. Then, something looked back down at him.

Small. Floating Hands. It looked like Toby. That shouldn't be right. The familiar mask, mohawk, even the old t-shirt and sweatpants that Toby usually fell asleep in after days of little to no sleep.

What the actual fuck was he staring up at?

[2bdamned-in-dc]

Inbox game - Soulmate edition!

Send my muse an ask with one of these prompts and a pocket will appear! Remember that it can be more than one soulmate! (Romantical or not)

💛 - Platonic soulmate

♥️ - Romantic soulmate

⁉️- This... isn't their soulmate, who's this

🤍 - "Not" their soulmate (your muse is in denial)

💔 - Someone who they thought would be their soulmate someday, and they weren't.

Specify for multiple muses blogs!