#itsdrabbles

[sad-boy-hank]

Dead Girls

by Salemn

for @saltymongoose

TW: Assumed contemplation, killing

Reader was always sweet.

The music they sang though. . . It made Hank stop in his tracks, confusing the bandits he fought.

"I, your name, do solemnly swear, not to off myself, think about offing myself, or continue thinking about offing myself without reaching out for help, after listening to this song."

"P. . . player?" Oh, the poor dear. . . his player, his darling, wanted to hurt themself in that way?

The bandits stopped as well, whispering amongst themselves.

"Wha wassat?"

Hank shook their head and dove back into the fray, the screams of his enemies no more musical than your voice, cooing at him between verses. "- dead! Better dead! Gun against your head, you like 'em dead!"

This had to be a cry for help, no way it wasn't, Hank needed to help before it got-

"Well, sorry for the dark tone. What can I say, Penelope Scott is muh jam! Next up is. . . let's see, chat. . . Cigarette Ahegao! One of my faves!"

Oh.

It was just some stupid song.

Hank shook their head again. "Jesus, player, don't scare me like that!"

[sad-boy-hank]

dumb horror au idea drabble from a year ago lmao

!!graphic fantasy warning!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victor bit at the hand that fed them often.

Hank thought it was just a strange way of showing love.

Every day, Hank would hand-feed his chained prisoner, and every day Victor quite literally bit back at him. Hank saw it as endearing. Victor saw it as terrifying.

He truly and honestly couldn’t understand why Victor shouted and screamed and sobbed so often. They were well cared for, well fed, and well loved. Surely they should show some gratitude, yes? A thank you at the very least.

Well, Victor didn’t think so.

Victor thought that Hank should be sliced and diced and boiled alive.

They fantasized about it often, imagining themself carving out Hank’s organs as he wailed helplessly on an operation table.

They’d make soup from those guts.

[sad-boy-hank]

grin with malcom and hank?

grin - "You're so cute when you're all bloody."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hank panted, still shivering with energy. He needed to keep going, to keep killing. He looked around. Blood and viscera were splattered all over the walls, painting them a deep red. Bodies twitched lifelessly. Hank sighed, it seemed he'd killed everyone.

Dissapointed, he made his way out of the room. Wish there was more ta- "Oomph!" He stopped dead. Face buried in his chest was a small merc, likely no older than twenty. Didn't know they made em so small.

The merc slowly lifted his head, stiffening when he saw Hank's face, his head cocked to one side. The merc began to stutter- something Hank found strangely endearing. "Uhm, h- hey there big guy!" The merc laughed nervously.

Hank put a paw on the merc's shoulder and leaned in, intrigued by its inaction. The merc squeaked fearfully. "Uh, you- you're kinda cute when you're all bloody!" Hank froze up. The merc trembled fearfully. "Uh, big guy?" Hank leaned in closer, causing the poor merc to whimper. Hank chuckled.

Maybe he could spend his energy doing something. . . different.

[sad-boy-hank]

dumb little one of two part drabble i made

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shivered in the biting cold. Ever since the damned project had begun, the core had been fucking with the weather. So now, in the middle of summer, you were freezing your paws off. Literally, since you could feel your paws go limp. You were in no state to work and yet, your director demanded that you come in today. Hmph. Christoff and the others get the week off, why don’t I?

You were the director’s favorite. He just loves seeing poor little you quake at his desk, begging for hours off. He enjoyed your teary eyes when he rebuked you for small mistakes. And god, he obsessed over how jumpy you got around him. It was obvious- to everyone but you. You only saw it as a predator toying with its hapless prey before devouring it whole. You hated the feeling. Hated it more than anything.

The doors whirred open. The area was mostly silent, save for the tower guards, made specifically to be able to work through the winter. As your body warmed up, you could feel your control over your paws returning. You flexed your paws, able to feel them once more. Now, what’s our workload today? You climbed the main stairs, arriving at the empty cafeteria. It felt odd, the normally bustling place so quiet.

You ran a paw over one of the tables. Cold. You shivered. This didn’t feel natural. Your footsteps seemed to echo endlessly through the empty halls as you traversed them, stairwell by stairwell. Everything was sleek, save for the machinery and control pads and hideous chambers that you scooted away from as you walked past them. A shudder ran through your spine. You quickened your pace.

When the doors to the level you worked on opened, you were quaking. This place is much creepier when no one’s around. There were one or two people working- mostly signing paperwork and regulating the thermostat for the main project’s chamber. You took a deep breath and walked in, still shaking slightly.

Okay. I can do this. This is easy. You grabbed a clipboard and took shaky breaths, walking past your coworkers and to your desk. You adjusted your coat underneath you and pulled out your chair with a foot before sitting down. You sighed at the stack of papers waiting for you, but dutifully pulled off the top one and began to write.

First paper was a progress report on the project. What’s been done so far, methods of doing it, what you have yet to do and how you plan to tackle it, etcetera. Pretty vanilla stuff. Sadly, every time you saw an “Explain how” you died a little inside. It felt like hours as you just stared at your paper, spacing out. You blinked back to the present. With slow strokes, you wrote a sentence. And went back to staring.

The next five papers were wavers for future experiments, again standard stuff. A lot of reading, though, which you hated. And unfortunately, you couldn’t just sign your life away without reading the terms and conditions. So, begrudgingly, you read. And reread. The words began blurring together and you could hardly keep your gaze on the paper. You shook your head. And there are five of these? Jesus Christ.

[sad-boy-hank]

EXCERPT EXCERPT

@caninewaterway PSPSPSPSPS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gulped as you entered the room, ushered in by two soldats.

Why would you need to be ushered in by two soldats, you ask? Who are you visiting? Phobos? Hank? The Auditor herself?

None of those, actually. You were just meeting your charge for the first time. A MAGnified Elton Ridgewell, codenamed MAG Agent: Torture. You didn't wanna call him Torture though, too crude. Maybe he would like Elton better. Maybe he was so mad because he was forced to go by a name that made him feel evil and bad.

Or maybe he's just an animal and you're projecting.

[sad-boy-hank]

would like to thank a homie on the wiki for getting me hooked on this idea.

TW // consensual drugging, nonsexual violation, cannibalism, nonsexual bondage, yandere

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hank woke up sore. Of course, it was to be expected after a surgery. He brushed off the feeling of lightheadedness as a side affect as well, and went to sit up.

They stopped. Then tried again. And again. Hank looked down. "Whuh-" Large leather straps had him stuck to the bed. He craned his neck, staring over his body to survey the issue. He was bound fully, from ankles to shoulders.

He lay his head back, relaxing for a moment. Could. . . no. Doc wouldn't do this. The guy was creepy, sure, but he'd never harm Hank. He loved Hank.

Hank wriggled around a bit until his head started hurting. What was in those anesthetics that was so strong? They could feel themselves drifting off again.

The clack of footsteps brought him back. Doc. Surely he would help. The door whirred open, and Hank turned his head to see his partner. "Doc. . ." he whispered.

Doc smiled under his mask. "Hello, Hank dear. How are you feeling? Drowsy? Lightheaded?" Hank nodded quickly. "Good."

Hank took a moment to process Doc's reaction. Good? What does he mean by that? "Doc. . ." he mumbled, straining, "What's going on?"

His partner walked up to him and leaned over, tapping his masked mouth to Hank's face. Hank turned away, making Doc pout. "Aww, is my little lovebird pissed?"

They growled lightly and Doc chuckled. "Oh don't worry dear, the inches I shaved off your liver will grow back."

Hank went cold. "Tobias. What did you do."

Doc didn't answer. "You lost quite a bit of blood, and I decided not to waste it, so I tried to drink it all before it clotted." He chuckled. "I spent the next hour waiting for it to freeze in the freezer."

"Tobias, what the fuck are you on about."

"Shh, lovebird," Doc whispered, petting Hank's face. Hank grimaced. "You've been a lovely little lunch for me, let's hope you can survive dinner."

[sad-boy-hank]

Hmm,, how about Phobos making Caretaker call him master after he finally gets his paws on them? 👀

YES SYEYSESEYSEYSYS SEY YSE SYE SEY SYES YES YSS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, there they were. A fragile, tender little lamb. his. His little lamb. Perfection- just a little plaything to keep all to himself.

"Now, my sweet, you must remain calm. Your master has you now."

"M- my master?"

"Mmm. . ." Whenever that sweet little voice escaped those lips it made him so high, made him want to bite and chew and taste every inch, from those beautiful thighs to those sweet lips.

And he will- very soon.

Perhaps a forehead lick is a good place to start.

[sad-boy-hank]

if there's no photalt content i'll make my own.

tw, none, just a lil amgy boy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phobos wasn't having it today.

The merging process had failed. He was left in the paws of his poor beloved, a nasty gash in his side. He hissed as Gestalt poked it. "Don't do that!" he snarled.

Gestalt flinched at his master's harshness and let out a whine. "Plwease," he mumbled. "Lemmy. . . see."

Phobos huffed. "No."

Gestalt whimpered pathetically but obliged to Phobos's wish. He gently wrapped up the small god in his capes, smiling gently. "Thmall. . ."

A giggle sounded from the bundle he'd hidden Phobos in. His smile widened. Today was. . . gonna be alright.