What the fuck is wrong with this old man
What the fuck is wrong with this old man
Hehe I Bothered My Carpel Tunnel With This One :)
A doctor and his guard dog
Look ok like hear me out ok like please I just I please i-
It’s been literal days, but I finally finished Krinkels’ birthday gift! Happy Madness everyone <3
Wips MC just.
created a document for Defective ch6 but instead of writing I'm thinking about the fact that Sanford, Deimos, and 2B don't have canon last names
so what if, on the rare occasion that they do have to fill something out that requires a last name, they just put wimbleton
Hank is aware of this and he does a dumb little smile whenever he thinks about it
2BDamned 🤝 Auditor
Gaslight, Gatekeeper, Girlboss💖
They are, are friends. Infodumping about.. Paleozoic animals.
I was stimming over a ao3 fic where 2BD and Sheriff hung out. Pretty epic.
Here's my headcanon for 2BDamned's hair
Yes, I know it doesn't look like a human being's normal hair but I also like to headcanon that they aren't exactly ‘humans’ which is why they call each other ‘grunts’.
So what I'm saying is: I headcanon every single grunt to have weird hair and weird hair markings on them while growing up.
HELLO MADCOM TUMBLR.
i am here to announce another idea;;
thank you . *walks off the stage*
@ya-killin-me-smalls is this what you wanted
Madness combat as the best clickbait titles i could generate
doing a little tomfoolery
i am so sorry they are slightly low quality, chromebooks suck lmao
You say this AFTER the operation?
because I really feel like 2B's pov of the argument referenced in the last oneshot deserves to be seen and I wanna fully clear up the fact that I forgot to have 2B remove the bullet in Treason ch3
also if you read the previous part of this, it's not that Deimos was lying about what happened, he just takes everything the wrong way and gets upset because he's dense
[Deimos: you busy?]
2B squinted at the message on his phone. There were only two reasons Deimos asked if he was busy. Either 1) he needed help with something technical, or 2) he got hurt. Again. And judging by the fact that he was texting him rather than just stopping by and was last seen in the garage, it was most likely the latter.
[2BDAMNED: What did you do?]
Leaning back in his seat, he waited for a response. No reason to get back into his work until this was resolved.
It was definitely the latter.
[Deimos: so i can has stop by the lab pls or are you busy?]
[2BDAMNED: Not doing anything pressing at the moment. I want an explanation when you get here.]
Sighing, he set the phone down on the desk and leaned forwards on his elbows, massaging his temples. It was like they couldn’t leave that idiot alone for more than an hour without something happening. He would’ve been safer tagging along with Hank and Sanford up north in the tribelands than he was unsupervised just a few rooms away.
There was a knock at the lab door and 2B straightened his posture, folding his hands in front of himself, “It’s unlocked."
The first thing he noticed when Deimos opened the door was the fact that he was very much so favoring the right side of his chest, clutching as his side and leaning heavily back against the door once it was closed.
“Hey, Doc,” Deimos managed, smile sheepish but expression pained.
“Don’t ‘hey, doc’ me. Explanation. Now,” he said as he stood, clearing off the exam table in the middle of the room. This was going to take a while.
“Ahah- Okay, let me just preface this by saying it wasn’t my fault this time. Er- well- I mean, it was kinda my fault but not really ‘cause-“
“Focus please.” He gestured for Deimos to sit.
“Right, sorry. I was replacing the axles on the car ‘cause we found some a few weeks ago that weren’t rusty pieces of shit and I had the day off so, you know, why not?” Deimos explained, carefully hoisting himself up onto the table, “Well, you know what were rusty pieces of shit? Fucking jack stands. I figured it’d be fine since the car isn’t nearly as heavy as the van and I’d used them a couple months ago on it with no issues. Not like we have any not-rusty-piece-of-shit jacks lying around that I could’ve used instead, anyways.”
“I know! I know! Let me finish! So I’m underneath the car, nearly done with the front, and I guess I must’ve jerked the thing too hard trying to get the axle in place and uh- the jack to my right gave out and- y’know- gravity did its thing. I wasn't like, completely under it so I was able to squirm my way out but I’m pretty sure I heard something crack and uh-” he laughed nervously, ducking his head, refusing to look 2B in the eyes, “Kinda hurts to breathe now.”
Doc was at a loss for words for a minute. They’d left him alone for one hour and he managed to almost get himself killed. It was bad enough that he already had issues with his ribs and for him to be so careless and act like this was no big deal, like it was funny. Unbelievable. “So you dropped a car on yourself?” he asked, tone much more even than he’d expected it to be.
"Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid."
"It is stupid," he sighed, pulling the younger man's jacket off his shoulders and then rolling up his tank top, knowing that he probably couldn't do it himself right now. He meant to berate him further but found that he'd forgotten what he was going to say once he saw the state of Deimos's chest. There was a deep gash in his abdomen, the skin across the entire right side of his ribcage already turning an ugly shade of purple. Lucky for him, it seemed most of the weight had landed lower on his torso, but he could tell just by looking at it that the damage would be pretty bad. "Can you lift your arms?"
Deimos tried to raise them but stopped short of the halfway point, face scrunching up in pain as he shook his head.
Not a problem. 2B grabbed the pair of scissors from the tray at his side and carefully cut away Deimos's shirt, then discarded the ruined fabric. "I'll need to do an x-ray. Lay back, please," he said, using a hand to support Deimos's upper back as he slowly lied down. The younger man grunted in discomfort, clutching at his side again but Doc quickly pulled his hand away, not wanting him to make anything worse.
"Sorry about all this. I know you've probably got more important shit to do," Deimos said.
2B softened for just a moment. Apologizing and thanking people for basic kindness was something Deimos had stopped with Hank and Sanford years ago, but somehow still felt the need to keep it up with the doctor despite the many times he'd told him it wasn't necessary. 2B had a general idea of why, but he wasn't about to pry into the issue unless Deimos wanted to talk about it.
"Don't be ridiculous. One of you being injured will always take priority over everything else. I just wish you'd use your head every now and then," he chided, gently probing at the bruised flesh with his fingertips. The gash would definitely need stitches.
"I mean, I did. My actions were calculated, but man, am I bad at math," Deimos laughed.
2B gave him an unimpressed look and pressed just a bit harder, quickly relenting when Deimos hissed and tried to shift away from his hand. "'Bad' is an understatement," he said, stepping away to roll the x-ray machine over to the table. He positioned the scanner over the other man's chest and turned it on. "Stay still," he ordered before moving over to the computer and capturing the image, frowning at what he saw.
He'd felt genuine pity the first time he'd done an x-ray screening of Deimos's body. Developmentally 26. Technically 18. Only 16 years of life experience outside of the stasis tube. There was absolutely no good explanation for the amount of healed fractures that showed up in the pictures. As was standard for anything regarding his time with the Agency, Deimos didn't want to talk about it.
That wasn't what caught his attention this time, though. What stood out more than the healed callus and the fresh breaks was a single, bright white dot in his right shoulder. That couldn't be right. Deimos hadn't been shot for several weeks now, and the last time it'd happened had been his thigh. His brows furrowed as he stepped back to the machine, moving it closer to Deimos's shoulder.
"Uh, Doc? I'm pretty sure the problem is lower-"
2B shushed him and held up a finger, moving back to the computer and taking another picture. The dot was still there, still in the same spot. He picked up the laptop and carried it back over to Deimos, setting it on the table and tilting the screen towards him. "When the hell did you get shot and why didn't you say something?" he demanded, jabbing a finger at the white dot.
Deimos craned his neck to look at the image and squinted, then looked up at Doc like he'd grown a second head. "That's been there for a while, Doc."
"How long is a while?"
"Uh, you tell me. It was there last time you did a screening. And the time before that. And the time before that," he paused, counting off on his fingers, "And the other two times before that. You telling me you never noticed it?"
"Impossible," he said, going over to the file cabinet at his desk and opening one of the drawers. He sifted around it for a moment before finding the file he was looking for, flipping through the contents. [Deimos]. Alarmingly thicker than the other two. He found the most recent x-ray image, frowning when he saw the white dot there as well, same position. Like Deimos had said, it was in the one before that, and the other three before that.
Preposterous. How the hell was he just now noticing it after seeing it for the sixth time? And more importantly, why the hell hadn't Deimos said anything?
"Deimos, what in the absolute fuck?" he breathed, looking up at his patient with what could only be bewilderment.
Deimos, casual as ever, just shrugged, "Hey man, you're the one that left it there. I didn't wanna start shit."
"What do you mean I left it there?! You're telling me you knew and didn't say anything?! Deimos- You fucking imbecile- I can not believe-" he paused, floundering for words, "Do you have any idea how bad that could've been had it gotten infected?!"
It really was just dumb luck keeping this moron alive.
"Well it didn't! And I hardly ever even feel the thing." Deimos pushed himself up as best as he could, pushing the scanner out of his way and leveling a glare at 2B, "I don't see why you're so miffed over it."
"I'm 'miffed' because this could've killed you, you idiot!" He yelled, throwing his arms out in frustration. "I know I make mistakes. Why the fuck didn't you tell me, though?!"
"I don't wanna-"
"Absolutely not," He cut Deimos off, moving into his space and pointing a finger accusingly at him, "We're talking about it. End of story. Why didn't you say something?"
Deimos bit the inside of his cheek stubbornly, eyes watering as he glared at the wall across the room.
2B sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you crying?"
"I've already told you before that I don't know! It just happens!" Deimos snapped. He scrubbed angrily at the tears that rolled down his cheeks as he pulled his legs up towards his chest. He winced at the pain it caused but he seemed determined to fold in on himself, hooking his arms around his knees and hiding his face in them. "You were being a dick and I didn't wanna go near you more than I had to, okay?" he choked out, voice tight and unsteady. "I just figured you left it there on purpose and didn't care."
"Deimos, I know we don't always get along but why on earth would I do that just to make you suffer? It was clearly an accident."
"Oh, like when you 'accidentally' shoved your thumb into the bullet hole, right?" Deimos spat, glancing up at Doc for only a moment before going back to trying to burn a hole in the wall in front of him.
He was right. 2B had been downright cruel when Deimos first joined them, paranoia and his own experience working with A.A.H.W. clones clouding his judgement when it came to the younger man. Hardly even a man at the time. Just a kid.
Doc sighed out through his nose and rested his hand on Deimos's shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the jagged scar there. A scar that never would've been there had Deimos not been afraid to go to him in the first place.
It was best to not keep pushing the subject.
"You fractured three ribs. A compression wrap will help them heal properly. I can give you local anesthetic for the pain, but I need you to promise me you'll keep ice on it and rest," he said, letting his hand drop, then moving to grab the supplies.
Deimos just shrugged.
2B's eyes landed on the tray of scalpels and he paused, glancing over his shoulder at the other man. "Is it alright if I remove the bullet, Deimos?" he asked, speaking much more gently than earlier.
"I don't give a shit. I told you I don't hardly feel it most of the time so it doesn't matter."
That was as close to a 'yes' as he would get.
2B grabbed the tray and moved it to his workstation with the rest of the supplies. Anesthetic was carefully injected into his shoulder and at four different locations on his side, Doc massaging it into the muscle with his thumb.
Medical supplies used to be a major concern, but traveling a little farther north than they would've liked had found them a hospital that was almost completely untouched. Bi-monthly trips up there nullified any worries about shortages.
"Let me know when it kicks in," he said, receiving a grunt in response as he set to work disinfecting his tools and threading the needle. Once that was done he cleaned out the gash as efficiently as he could with an alcohol-soaked cloth, lifting away sand and engine grease that had been ground into the wound by the impact of the car. Everywhere that was bruised was given the same treatment.
"You still touching me?" Deimos asked.
"I am," he replied, glancing up to watch Deimos's expression as he pressed lightly against his ribcage. No signs of pain or discomfort. "Numb?"
"Yeah, pretty sure."
2B nodded, setting to work stitching the wound closed, still mindful not to push too hard. Just because Deimos couldn't feel didn't mean he couldn't make it worse by accident. They both sat in silence while Doc patched up his side, all-in-all only needing seven stitches. Not amazing, but nowhere near the most he'd had to do on one of them. Hank was the record-holder, in that regard.
"I need you to sit up straight and raise your arms if you can, just for a moment," 2B said as he unfolded the wrap. Deimos did as he was told without question and Doc quickly wound it around his chest, then secured the clasps. "You might have some difficulty breathing, but I'd rather see everything heal properly. I'll be needing the keys to the garage, by the way."
"Why?" Deimos asked, picking at the edge of the compression wrap.
"To keep you out of it. Knowing you, you'll be back down there within the hour trying to finish the job."
"I already did."
Oh, for christ sake.
"Deimos-" he started, but was quickly cut off.
"Look, man, I don't need a lecture. I've done way harder shit with way worse injuries on missions, no reason to be a little bitch about it now," Deimos huffed, crossing his arms.
"It's not-" he cut himself off this time, not wanting to get into another argument. Instead, he sighed, grabbing the scalpel tray and moving behind the younger man. "You push yourself too hard," he finally said as he began wiping his shoulder with antiseptic, "Someday, you might manage to get hurt bad enough that I can't fix it. And that worries me."
Deimos snorted out a dry laugh at that, not taking any noticed when Doc started cutting into his shoulder. "Well, you don't have to worry about it for long. My life is more than half over, I'll be out of your hair soon."
"Don't talk like that," he said quickly, the blade in his hand stilling for a moment. It was easy to ignore when Deimos always seemed so normal, so human. But anyone who worked with the Agency knew that clones didn't live very long. "You've got at least another twelve years before we ever need to worry about that happening. And, god Deimos, I don't know what I'll do with myself when it does," he said as he set the scalpel down, then picked up the pair of tweezers.
"Sorry, I just- I shouldn't even be bringing it up-"
"It's fine," he waved off his apology, prodding deep into the fresh wound. "Does Sanford know yet?"
Deimos stiffened. "Not... Not exactly."
"You'll have to tell him sooner or later."
"I know it's just- If I tell him now it'll be the only thing he thinks about for the next twelve years. Or he might- I mean, maybe he'd-" Deimos rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "What if he gets mad and doesn't want anything to do with me anymore? No one really signs up for a relationship that isn't gonna last."
"Don't be ridiculous," Doc chided, finally finding the little piece of metal he was looking for, starting to carefully pull it out. "I've known Sanford since he was 19, saw him go through crushes, even a couple flings when we would stay with settlements." He removed the bullet completely and set it in the glass dish to his side, "I've never seen him, or anyone, for that matter, look at someone the way he looks at you. The idea that he would even be able to leave you over something completely out of your control, it's ridiculous. Nevada would freeze over before that ever happened."
"I guess. I'll just- I'll tell him in a few years," Deimos sighed, shrugging.
"Shoulders still, please." He re-threaded the needle from earlier, then started on closing up the incision. "I know that I was... unkind, when we first met and I can't fault you for not wanting to say anything at the time. But, Deimos, this was an accident. Even back then, I would've never done this on purpose. Is there anything else I should know about?" he asked as he finished the final stitch, tying off the thread and then cutting it. A far better job than he'd originally done.
Deimos rolled his shoulder a couple times as he pulled a knee up towards himself, then propped his elbow on it to keep his arm lifted so Doc could bandage him. "Not that I know of. I mean, my knee still bothers me sometimes from when I got shot that one time. But that's only if I rest my weight on that side so... nothing to worry about."
2B nodded slowly as he wrapped gauze around Deimos's shoulder. "Are you still wearing the brace at home?"
"Only here and there. Like, for a couple days after missions because it just throbs constantly. But as long as I'm careful the rest of the time it's fine."
The end of the gauze was cut and then secured with medical tape, then 2B pulled off his gloves and moved back to the other side of the table. "Two weeks would be preferable but I want to see you taking it easy for at least one before you'll get the garage keys back. No sparring. No missions. Make an effort to cut down on smoking for now. Oh, and do tell Sanford to be gentle," he listed off, Deimos's face turning red at that last comment.
"I'm serious, Deimos. You two aren't exactly subtle and I've seen the bruises he leaves on your hips. Either he goes easy on you or I skin him for injuring you further. Your choice."
Deimos only turned redder, pursing his lips and staring at the floor, at the wall to his right, anywhere but Doc's face.
"Now that I've made myself clear, are you alright?" 2B asked.
Deimos rolled his shoulder again, arched his back, inhaled deeply, then shrugged, "Yeah, I think that was it."
2B laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, "Not what I meant."
"Oh," was all he said at first, chewing the inside of his cheek and shrugging again. "Yeah, I just- For a sec down there I wasn't sure if I could get out from under the car by myself and uh, my phone was too far for me to reach. So like, that sucked. And then the arguing and pain just-" he sighed, "I dunno. Got myself in a mood or something but I'll be fine, just need to distract myself."
"Well, we need a catalogue of the shipment coming out of Vegas next week, if you'd like to work on that," he said, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on his skin and handing him his jacket. "We're done here, so you're free to go whenever."
Deimos nodded and tugged the jacket on, zipping up the front of it. "Yeah, I can do that," he said as his slid off the table, tugging at his sleeves as he headed to the door. It seemed his emotions had gone full-circle, back to nervousness. "I'll uh, let you get back to whatever you were doing, try not to make things worse, all that good stuff. Have fun and uh," he paused, hand on the doorknob, second-guessing himself, "Thanks, Doc. For... y'know."
"Any time, Deimos," 2B waved him off as he left, starting to clean up the mess.
What was he going to do with that boy?
HC That hank is incredibly skilled at making flower crowns :]
He gives them to 2BDamned most of the time
Sanford: “!!!DOC!!!DEIMOS!!!HANK!!! ”
Deimos: “LET US FUCKING GO YOU BIG BALL OF FLAMING SHIT”
Hank: “..... ”
Drew this based on this fanfic aka a continuation to the one in my previous post: