Note
I SWEAR EVERY CRUMB YOU POST HAS ME MORE AND MORE EXCITED ABOUT DOING SOMETHING
I swear I’m working on it, I’ve finally found a good beginning and a huge scene for the end is mainly finished. I have a bunch of middle pieces, too.
Just a hell of a time getting the opener out of the way.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text

Prettiest guy in the world <3
#How many anatomical structures can YOU find???#I stared at so many diagrams. Hank is sooooo hydraulics#Obviously there’d be armor over all of that#Clearly this guy is half nekkid like the other drawings. Symmetry yknow#Doing Something
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.
#Drunken flirting#Overstimumlation#Height differences.#They woobified me. They came into MY house. And they woobified me.
57K notes
·
View notes
Text
Going to dig through my drafts and one shots tonight, I think.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
im sure nothing eldritch will happen to this Sweet Burger Boy, Surely nothing along the lines of God flavored kidnapping, That would never happen
#I need to put this burger boy into Situations.#Need this guy to say Oh No.#Need to put him through Trials and Tribulations.#Need to sit down and WRITE.
141 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random drabble
The pain hits like a lightbulb exploding, and he can’t tell at first if the way his face hit the floor emptied out his sinuses, or if blood is bursting from his nose. He can’t think hard on it, can’t think at all, his body moves on its own- his legs lifting, lurching, launching his weight around in a whirlwind kick to his assailant’s jaw before their dive lands on him.
It’s enough force to knock them away, and his inertia keeps going until he’s spinning up from his shoulder and back into a crouch.
They eye each other, just for a split second, before the next beat of the song brings them crashing, snarling, ripping into each other.
His claws rake through the fabric of their clothes, their boots stomp into his feet, and with the same intensity, they crack their skulls into each other.
“Knock it off,” Doc passes by, unconcerned yet exasperated. “You’re getting blood everywhere.”
Deimos’ ears still ring with the head butt, his focus off now that Doc’s gone and broken his concentration. It gives Hank the opportunity to grab him by the face, their other arm reaching down to slide around his thigh, heaving him up and then chucking him into the couch like a hunk of firewood.
Deimos doesn’t get a breath in before they’re elbow dropping into him, shifting their arm just seconds before landing so the boney joint makes a cracking sound against the supports of the cushion instead of the center of Deimos’ throat.
“Heathens,” Doc still isn’t intervening, just walking by again with a package under his arm. “Breaking my stuff…”
“This ain’t even your house,” Deimos quips from beneath Hank’s body, slowly being suffocated as they let down more and more weight.
Doc doesn’t pause as he heads back upstairs, not seeing the stink eye he’s getting.
He looks back up to Hank.
“Think he actually cares?”
“No.”
So Deimos smashes his forehead into the space that used to be Hank’s nose, using the split second Hank reels back to slide against the silky liner of his jacket, shedding it like losing his tail to a predator, scrambling on all fours across the floor only to have his ankle grabbed-
Hank’s not the one reeling him in, Sanford’s dragging him around, a circle gaining speed, until he’s off the ground and lobbed back to the couch, crashing hard into Hank’s back, forcing all the air out of both of their lungs when the couch cracks again.
Hank’s trying to pull themself out from under Deimos when Sanford starts storming over, rattling the floorboards under his weight, coming in like a bulldozer.
The couch slams against the wall with his tackle, pinning Deimos by the throat and trapping Hank’s legs with his weight, knees digging in as he lifts Deimos again, and-
Tucks him up under his arm, like a sack of flour.
Hank manages to flip to their side and wheeze a little, Sanford eying them until they pat the couch a few times- tapping out. That has Sanford offering his free hand, helping Hank back onto their feet.
“Can’t believe you didn’t invite me, that hurts.”
“It’s ‘cause it only lasts two seconds when you pull this shit-“ Deimos squirms in Sanford’s hold, writhing himself out of his own shirt to escape the grasp, dropping back onto his feet. Sanford drapes the garment over his head. “You’re gonna break poor Hank’s back, look at ‘em.”
Hank’s straightening themself back up, tucking their shirt back into their sweatpants and giving Deimos a look of death as they start to pass him by. Probably. Hard to say, really, they sort of just always look like that.
“… See?”
“… Of course, what was I thinking? Can’t go rough housing with the elderly-“
The couch doesn’t survive Sanford’s body at terminal velocity, giving up the ghost when Hank shoulders him straight through it, collapsing it in the middle and dropping into the new void. Deimos is quick to slam his shin into the back of Hank’s knee as they’re reeling up a punch, dropping them to land on top of Sanford. When they’re down, he drops himself into the pile of bodies now filling the hollow space of the busted couch.
“… You’re dripping on me.” Hank mutters it, muffled into Sanford’s chest, and Deimos swipes his hand under his nose.
Oh, yeah.
Nosebleed.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text

15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gravedigest writes more people trying to sleep.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
you writing doing something

Where could you have possibly found this image of my super secret basement fortress?
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
HNMT drabble
”Deimos?”
Hm.
“Deimos? I can’t seem to find Deimos.”
The feet beneath the cot shuffle a little further into the shadows, near silent, but now fully hidden.
“I was going to give him some tablet time…”
… Nothing? Really?
“If he snuck out, they’re going to call security down. They’ll probably tell me to revoke snack closet privileges.”
There’s his little monster, springing off the back wall, claws outstretched. The kid fully wraps around his legs, mouth wide, they make eye contact as Deimos goes for the kill-
Just a light tap of his teeth against Doc’s ankle before he gets his mouth twisted in an evil grin.
He’s such an animal.
But, kids really are just animals.
“You brushed your teeth?”
“Nope!”
“Why not?”
“Poison attack.”
Doc rubs at the bridge of his nose, and gives Deimos a look.
The kid stares up, withered.
“… Vvvvenom attack.”
“Better. Go brush.” He scoots the kid with a foot, until Deimos detaches to get up to his feet and dash off to the washroom.
He should probably supervise.
Last time he let him go by himself, Deimos had started messing around in the eye rinse station.
Kudos to the designer, they created something with such an understandable design that a feral child could operate it first try. Then use it to trick scientists into demonstrating how the thing worked, smacking the button to start the flush when they leaned down to show him how one should put their face.
Utter nightmare.
“You have not had the time to brush-“ Deimos had come back to the room, toothbrush in hand-
Blood dribbling from his mouth.
“Bit m’cheek,” He hooks his own lip like a fish, trying to show where he’d hurt himself. He looks- Not panicked, but worried, as Doc drops to his knees to inspect the damage. “Does it count?”
Doc almost doesn’t hear the question through the fact that Deimos is talking around his own fingers. He tilts the kid’s head to see better, and- Yikes. He hasn’t chewed himself that hard since he’d first arrived. “Count for what, Deimos?”
“Bites? There’s blood.”
… His kid doesn’t live a normal life.
He inhales, exhales, then coaxes Deimos into just a little bit of eye contact. “What would a muzzle do if you bit the inside of your mouth?”
“… Nothin’?”
“Right. Let me find some cotton.”
The labs are filled with every type of swab and medium one could hope to find, this area used to be a place for chemical research. Then they got that new wing, and this place has been overrun by the more esoteric projects that no one wants to properly classify.
Or document.
Or acknowledge.
Not for lack of interest, but more-so the want for an amount of secrecy. Some things that happen here are completely inane and downright stupid, some things are above Doc’s own pay-grade.
Some things are packing cotton balls in a par-boiled clone’s mouth and emphasizing that he must not, under any circumstances, swallow the cotton balls.
Doc can tell he is really fighting the urge.
Admirable.
“If you swallow them, I’ll have to have Skinner pump your stomach again.”
“Noooooo…”
He’d swallowed several coins.
And a small desk toy.
And only got caught because he’d been eating erasers.
He is curious about something, though.
“… Does it hurt?”
Deimos looks puzzled by the question, finger in his mouth to press at the cotton like he’s keeping it in place. His brows are all pinched, slightly raised, like Doc’s an idiot.
He nods.
“… I’ve just noticed you don’t really tell me when something hurts.”
“M’I s’posed to?”
“I’d like to know. People usually say ‘Ow’ when they get hurt.”
“Ow.”
“Good enough.”
The kid beams with bloody teeth, and allows himself to be ushered back to his room.
Doc does fulfill the semi-promise of letting Deimos have the tablet for a while, watching him go through puzzles until the kid starts leaning more and more against the wall, until his eyes droop.
He has Deimos spit the cotton out before he konks out, the bleeding stopped for the moment.
Doc lingers for a while. He should be taking the chance to pop back to his apartment, perhaps get a few hours of proper rest on a flat surface, but the prospect of leaving the kid alone down here continues to be a daunting one.
Deimos gets into trouble, yes.
He’s not exactly concerned about that, because he gets in trouble for show. He has to have an audience to make it entertaining, and there are only a few scant researches that will make nighttime trips to this level, if they do show up.
And he isn’t afraid of Deimos being caught in an emergency, per say.
Deimos can quite obviously take care of himself if someone were to break in to the labs again, he has the upper-hand in the dark and the ability to hold his own if he gets a weapon.
He’s more worried about…
Well, he isn’t quite sure.
The sight of the kid with a bloody mouth, that he may hurt himself and have no one there to fuss over him, that he won’t take care of himself because he lacks the necessary reactions to reduce his own pain.
That he may get scared, waking up alone.
Or that he may wander off looking for Doc.
That he’ll have a bad dream.
He looks over the kid, in his too-big cot, swaddled in enough blankets to swim in.
He has the thought again, the thought that he should be in a house, that he shouldn’t subsist off what equates to mediocre hospital food, that there should be clothes that fit him and shoes he could wear.
It would be a mistake to have more kids for him to be around, this world is not made for children.
He doesn’t go back to his apartment. He finds a vending machine to get a bag of chips, and takes up on the uncomfortable couch in a nearby break room, writing out his notes until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.
He’ll go home tomorrow.
He just won’t define where home is yet.
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Did you and Deimos team up to make the Victor fan club where we start appreciating and loving Victor?
Because it’s working! I’m filled with many emotions about the burger man, esp DS Victor. Best roommate truly honestly. I can feel Deimos’s adoration as if it was my own (and at this rate it is tbh)
I am the CEO of love Victor and my company’s main export is Appreciate Victor.
I’m glad he’s still likable even though he kicked Deimos out.
To be fair he’s a little justified though.
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thinking about Victor, and how he has rig and chrome envy. And how he can ask San and Dei about it (and technically other people but they’re not relevant rn). And just the lack of information he gets from it all
San has chrome but no rig, and it’s a chrome he has to keep shape for. He also has no desire for a rig. Meanwhile, Dei has both but can’t give a comparison since he’s never had anything else, plus he know how to mess with himself, how to hack himself to make it better.
And Victor can only get so much info out of both. Again, he can ask other people, I just find it interesting that he can ask those two but get almost nothing out it. It’s interesting to me. Vic is interesting
Also just, Dei is the spice in Vic’s life. That’s a little thing in the back skittering about
Victor asks Hank what chrome is like and all he gets is a blank stare because Hank doesn’t know what chrome is like. Man that has a computer just to use the calendar.
They can probably get the complaints about chrome across pretty easily, like it’s easy to put into words stuff like “Yeah, my arm acts up if i twist it like this, I gotta yank it this way so my fingers uncurl,” or “There’s so many popups happening right now it feels like my eyeballs are turning inside out.”
But like, trying to explain what it looks like or feels like would be like trying to explain a sense someone doesn’t have, like if someone can’t smell but all you have to describe scents are other scents. You can sorta get it across like this smells warm or this smells cold, but thats kind of the only comparison you can get (unless you’ve got synesthesia, then theres a whole new world of comparisons you can make to stuff)
It’s neat.
I wanna write more Victor POV later on when I get the next part out, I think. Just kinda hard cause I’m tryna build him a solid foundation to work off of irt characterization and what very little we know about him, and he’s sort of easier to work with as non POV.
Victor gets his enrichment by watching Deimos be a weird little guy. Watching your cat watching tv and being like “what is he thinking?”
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
I need your fic(s) to be an animated series. I think that would fix me
You’re in luck, Madness Combat is an animated series!
Jk jk, if I had time, doing little animations where the guys are just chilling would be fun, I think.
#I am struggling to get back to the more action-heavy scenes for DS right now#I do have a bunch of them started I just keep falling back into the relationship-building stuff like a Heathen#Having a POV shot of DS Deimos having a brain blitz would be interesting.#I imagine it being like#There was this time where I’d completely overheated and all of the color cones in my eyes just stopped working I think#So I was just seeing with rods and it was like different saturations of light in kind of blacks and grays#But also like I was looking through a deep fried image#I don’t really know what that was about but I think about the experience Often.#But that’s what I imagine it’d look like
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
The urge to write more pre-DS Victor and the conundrum of his life kind of being very boring.
He eats bachelor chow and watches Sport.
#Victor’s hobbies are Know Offputting People and Be Nice.#This is mainly a joke#Neat to do a perspective of someone who isn’t all chromed up and how that effects him.#Vic’s got the FOMO that Sanford will not give the time of day.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
From @just-a-vibing-sock

Lol yeah, no, that world is hell.
Spoilers for the first part of Doing Something? If anyone is going to the fic from here, IG.
The cops are more interested in cosmetics than discussing the guy that just got shot in a high end restaurant, traumatizing an entire dining room of people.
I mean it’s a bunch of rich people, they can go have the event scrubbed from their memory by some highly trained professional. It’s fine. They probably have insurance for that.
And if they don’t, they can go sell that memory for big dollars because hey, wanna see Nevada’s Most Wanted get nuked by some scrawny security guy?
But with your other tags, yeah. If Victor were anyone else, Deimos would probably have wound up like Tricky, failing in an alleyway. Just some dumb jackass who was clearly messing with unregulated hardware, the only people that look into that kind of thing are the conspiracy theorists and other hackers who dance around the deaths of one of their own like crows investigating a dead bird, “How’d that happen? What caused it? What limits were hit and how do we avoid that?”
Maybe Victor being just kind of an unmodified dude lets him be more aware of his surroundings, has a bit more empathy ‘cause he’s not logged into anything. Still sees Deimos as a guy to be sort of envious of despite everyone else looking down on him for running so poorly, just imagine what he’ll be like when they can afford to fix him up.
Like, until Deimos is doing some serious IRL y’know. Crime. Like. Yeah.
But before that, he’s Victor’s dumb but well-meaning roommate who has some problems.
Maybe he’s an annoying little dickhead sometimes, maybe the absolute worst shit comes out of his mouth, but those aren’t the things Deimos gets judged on when he’s outside, that’s what Victor gets to see from actually living with him. Victor gets to be fed the fuck up with Deimos because he has to sit and debate the man on the merits of watching Sports. It’s fun to watch, Deimos. Shut the fuck up. No, don’t go Pepe Silvia on me, get off the Big Entertainment forums you chronically online gremlin and let me watch the nu-olympics in peace. … Unless you need something, okay?
They’re both doin’ their best.
#Deimos is like having a dog with extra steps that people don’t get so weird about when you bring him with you to work.#Yeah that’s my roommate he’s a freelancer can he use the wifi?#I don’t want to leave him home alone he might chew on the furnitu- He Has Some Serious Medical Conditions.#It probably helps that Deimos just adores Victor so so much.#I think my favorite thing I’ve written between them is still the ‘I saw your brain. It’s tiny.’ line#If you’ve ever been stuck in a hospital and had a friend visit who can make a silly joke in that situation. It makes it a lot better.
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thinking about how San doesn't know Doc's driving and just talking with Dei and saying how he doesn't want to be in a car with Doc while Dei agrees. However, it's for entirely different reasons. Sanford because doesn't trust Doc and think he'll Do Something (lol) if San takes the offer. And Deimos because holy shit this guy's driving sucks so much ass who taught this guy, why is he like this. I don't know if they think they share the same opinion or not but I just think it'd be funny if San also thinks Dei is super suspicious of Doc and Dei thinks San has experienced the Doc Express even thought they're both wrong about this. Although Dei I'm p sure he is also kind of wary of Doc but not to same degree as San
Comedy gold: Deimos and Sanford are on the same wavelengths all the time, but sometimes on different channels.
Like, they’ll respond the same way to a question but their reasoning will be wildly fucking different when asked to explain why they answered the way they did.
But since they usually are agreeing with eachother, they think the other one has the same idea, ergo; they never really communicate further than the surface level.
The eventuality is that at some point they come to a topic where they have to actually explain why they hate the idea of Doc being near a car.
“Wait, you’ve never ridden with Doc? Then why d’you have a problem with him driving?”
“Because I think he’s going to put me in the trunk. If you’ve ridden with him, why do you have a problem with it?”
“Because the BD in 2BD stands for Bad Driver, it’s like hitting a pedestrian is the goal.”
This obviously does not make them realize they need to communicate more and they just do this song and dance over and over ad nauseam.
#Forever love the idea that they understand eachother innately but perplex the hell out of eachother.#They get the what but not the why.#Sanford can roughly guesstimate Deimos and Deimos knows Sanford’s patterns#But they’re not asking questions because they’re way too busy talking about the dumbest shit on the planet.#When they disagree it turns directly into gambling on whoever’s right and Extreme Bragging Rights.#Or rock paper scissors.#Watching them play rock paper scissors is probably like watching an episode of Death Note.
11 notes
·
View notes