#mug theorizes

[amugoffandoms]

okay I know this is bisexual lighting but also I had thoughts on this lighting, too!!

So, uh, red and blue lighting! It could also be a reference to law enforcement (at least in the U.S., the stereotypical police car had similar lighting.)

So, she's acting like her own law enforcement, which is basically what she says in YONAH. She says something to the effect of "I know you can't punish them, so let me do it for you."

Also, didn't she drop out of law school or something??

(Edit: She paused her classes, you can check out my theories on why she did here!)

[buckynats]

Baraqiel, Barâqîjâl, Baraqel (Aramaic: ברקאל, Greek: Βαρακιήλ) was the 9th watcher of the 20 leaders of the 200 fallen angels that are mentioned in an ancient work called the Book of Enoch. The name means "lightning of God",[1] which is fitting since it has been said that Baraqiel taught men astrology during the days of Jared or Yered.[2] (wikipedia)

This answers literally every question I had about WHY LIGHTNING, and God in the Job sequence saying "communicate through lightning-", and Crowley's insistence on the weather as a get-together tactic and the fact that he called the lightning down. Singed and damp. Ginger, eyebrows, always in red. The incredibly clever irony of "changed his name? Yuck!" Right above the actual dead one when his new name is circled (pay attention to THIS, not that). The fact that Baraqiel was a Dominion (clearance for the book) and that according to wiki, taught humans astrology (Aziraphale said of earth when they met, this exists so they can look up into the night sky at the stars, and he thought it was a waste at first - all THIS for that? Like how Adam's aura spanned the earth and wasn't visible up close. Can't see the forest for the trees, but of course he'd do SOMETHING with it, in the end. Someone's got to appreciate all the work he put in).

Not my screenshot, a friend sent it to me when I noticed the name and remembered she threw it around when we were discussing who he could have been and I recognized it. But ohhh I'm on board. Dominions an order above Principalities, but not in the league of the Seraphim and Archangels, so he'd still be Just Some Guy, but powerful enough to perform a 25-lazarii miracle when working with a Principality. It works for me. And it answers everything. And it's hidden so effortlessly in plain sight.

[sollucets]

ok i finished pt3 and i am going to go to bed like a responsible person but............ i am again having trouble with my existing writing now that cinnamon is done, and it continues to be This Week, so i want to take a little time off of that, but i still want to Write, yknow? like for fun. so if you (mutuals) have any little brainworm you think i could do let me know. or like.... idk. a prompt list? and if not (truly no pressure i am just out here) when i wake up i am going to maybe hunt down another list myself. because i had fun making that little mason thing and i think i could perhaps do it again

[poisonedprose]

hii, saw you wanted asks for simon <3 could you maybe write something where the reader is a civilian and misses simon but cannot contact him. she has a horrible day everything goes wrong. (to the point where she doesn’t even notice his car in the driveway when she gets home). she’s overwhelmed, and it’s filled with fluff (and smut if you want!!)

₊˚✧ i miss you, i’m sorry — in which simon returns after being away for so long

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

warnings: 2k words, smut, fluff, a lil angsty curse words, porn with plot, unprotected sex, p in v, degrading, pet names (lovie), hand job, borderline obsessed!reader, borderline toxic!ghost

masterlists

Watching Simon come and go became a routine for you. There was never an explanation, maybe he thought you didn't deserve one, or maybe there wasn’t time. He would leave for days, weeks, months at a time, always prefacing it with "I'll be back soon." The first few times you tried to call him, aching to hear his voice after long days but you were always met with the robotic woman telling you the call could not be completed. 

You learned quickly there was no way to contact him during these mysterious vanishings. You theorized where Simon went late at night. Thinking he was a secret spy, or maybe he had a secret family. You hoped it wasn't the latter. As you lay on your back, blankets askew on your rather uncomfortable mattress, thoughts of Simon flood your brain, you wondered if Simon was doing the same.  

You wondered if for each thought of him, he had a thought for you. When you thought of his hands on your waist did he think of your lips on his neck? As much as your conclusion pained you to think about, you can’t help but dream of him. Of his husky voice whispering teases and playful remarks into your ear. You had fallen hard, and you weren’t getting up anytime soon.

You knew this was a one-way ticket to disaster. He could never be what you need and deep down you both knew that. It didn’t stop you though, you didn’t think anything could stop you. You didn’t even know if he returned the intoxicating feelings you had for him. To him, you could just be the other woman, and part of you didn’t mind.

There was something about him that was so addicting. Was it his smile? Or his cologne? Or maybe it was his eyes that you loved looking into. You wondered if you had any features that he could obsess over. It’s strange, to have such strong feelings for someone you barely know. 

Your shoulders hung low, your feet dragged on the ground, and your eyes were strained. You were tired, your nights that were supposed to be filled with sleep were only filled with fantasies. You turned your key in the door, turning it the wrong way at first, even though you could’ve sworn it was the right way. It took everything in you not to become upset. It amazed you how much power Simon had over your life when he wasn’t even around.

After taking a deep breath, you finally were able to unlock the door. You stepped inside, throwing your stuff onto a random side table that you got from a garage sale 3 years ago that you should really organize. You kick your shoes off, not bothering to place them into their spot, just leaving them in front of the door. You don’t even notice the second pair of shoes that are too big to be yours.

You walk further into the house, trying to make it to any surface to lie on, but instead of finding a couch or a bed, you find Simon standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. You're almost sure you’re hallucinating. “Miss me?” You don’t know what to do, should you hug him? Yell at him for drinking your coffee? Not even acknowledge him at all and just go to bed? 

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, afraid that if you were hallucinating, you didn’t want the neighbors to hear you talking to yourself. “Hey,” He matched your volume, then took another sip from the mug. Still, you didn’t move, you were sure he was real now but now the question was, how should you greet him? He took the final sip of coffee and then placed the mug on the coffee table. 

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s teasing you. He probably is, but you didn’t care. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He chucked softly before returning the hug, only draping one arm around, being the other one up to pat your head. 

You didn’t move from this position, though neither of you really mind it. The sun was starting to set but still, neither of you really mind it. You didn’t know what to say to him. You wanted to ask where he was, where he went for so long. But you knew you would only be answered with, “You know I can’t tell you.”

You did know, but you were still curious. “Where were you?” You whispered. “You know I can’t-” “I know.” You cut him off, sighing softly. He pats your head again, trying to apologize for not being able to tell you. Maybe one day he could, but for now you just basked in the moment of feeling his arms around you once again.

“You tired?” Was it that obvious? “A little.” He nodded even though you weren’t looking at him. “Are you going to fall asleep standin’ up?” He laughs, his chest rumbling, making you feel safe in his arms. “Maybe.” He shook his head, moving both of his hands to your butt before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, moving your head off his chest and finally looking him in the eyes. 

You didn’t know if his feelings for you were gone after being away, or if they were ever there. He doesn’t say anything as you examine his face. ‘It’s definitely his eyes.’ You think, answering your own question from nights ago. You don’t think as you push your lips against his. You missed him far too much to not kiss him. 

To your satisfaction, he kisses back, almost more eagerly than you. You smile, happiness warming your body, or maybe that was from Simon’s body being pressed so closely to yours. You pulled away from the kiss, going back to examine his face, mostly his eyes. “I missed you.” You whispered, biting your lip after the practically deafening sentence.

“I bet you did.” Again he matches your volume, and too prideful to admit he missed you too, but you know. You can see it in his eyes, and feel it in his words. You press your lips to his again, more eagerly, more passionately. 

He returns the kiss once again, pushing your body closer to his. One of his hands slide from your ass, up your back, and land on the back of your neck. He squeezes it gently and suddenly you’re aware of how much you missed his subtle touches. 

He walks forward, sitting on the couch and you’re quick to fix your position to straddle him. His hands move to your waist, rubbing small circles as you disconnect from the kiss and begin leaving small kisses on his neck. Your tinted lip balm staining his skin ever so slightly. 

He sighs contently, loving the feeling of your soft lips on his neck. His hands slide under your shirt, his warm hands on your bare back. Maybe you didn’t know where or why he disappeared and left you high and dry for long periods of time, but it didn’t matter. He always made up for it by treating your body heavenly.

Without moving your lips away from his neck you lead a blind hand to his pants, fiddling with the zipper trying to undo them. “Someone’s eager.” Simon chuckles. He moves his hand towards his zipper, helping you pull it down when he notices you struggling, confirming he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you when you were gone.” You admit shamelessly, as he unbuttons his pants. You pull his boxers away from his skin, pulling out his semi-hard cock. You jerked him slowly as you left marks on his neck. He was enjoying how eager you were. It was sensual, you missed him so much, how could you not be?

"Is that so?" He whispered in your ear. His voice was raspy, it always was when he returned, raspier than usual at least. He was teasing you, finding pleasure and amusement in your admission. Had his lack of presence really had that much of an impact on you? The tiredness from your long day was easily being replaced with need. How long had it been this time? 3 months? 4 months? You lost count.

"Don't start that." Your lips tickle his neck with each word. You couldn't be bothered with his games, not this time. Not when you spent months awaiting his arrival. He was always different after each coming and going. It was always a slight change, but you never failed to notice it, no matter how hard you tried. 

"Don't start what?" He smiled at you with a cocky grin displayed on his face. Your eyes gloss over his face, he had a new scar on his lip. You brushed your thumb over it. "How do you always get so many of these?" It was rhetorical. You knew he wouldn't tell you. He was covered in scars, each one having a story to be told, but Simon never did. He took your hand in his, lowering it from his face. "Don't start what, huh?" He was deflecting, per usual.

"Your games." He lets go of your hand, returning it to its place under your shirt. Your free hand was still jerking him, slowly but pleasurably. "I'm not playing games." He was. He always was. "I'm just teasin' ya, lovie. No games, just fun." Games, fun, really they were both the same.

He laughs lowly, lowering his head to kiss your shirt-covered shoulder. One of his hands slides down your body, stopping when he reaches the end of your shorts. He moves your panties to the side, two of his fingers sliding through your folds. 

“So wet f’r me, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Did you miss me like this the whole time?” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, despite him being right. “Maybe.” You answered. “Maybe?” He questioned. “If you’re allowed to keep secrets so am I.” He laughs again, kissing your shoulder once more. “Fair enough.”

He takes your hand off his cock that’s painfully hard by now. He needs you too badly to enjoy the foreplay any longer. He tugs your shorts down roughly, too eager to pull off your underwear. He shoves your panties to the side before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

You pushed your body against his, biting your lip to quiet your moans. “Missed this tight pussy.” He groans. His hands stray to your ass cheeks, squeezing each of them with his firm hands. 

It’s pathetic how eager both of you are. Both pent up, frustrated, perhaps for different reasons. The way your bodies are pressed together is a sin. Barely any clothes have been taken off, so why do you feel so dirty? 

Maybe it was because of how deep his cock was buried in you. Or how hard your fingernails were pressing into his biceps. It could be both, it’s definitely both. If passion is a sin then so be it. He was always so good to you. Fucking you until you were crying, asking if you could give him just one more. 

You moaned his name, with each thrust. Giving up on trying to be quiet. He preferred when you were loud anyway. “Yeah? Moanin’ my name like a slut?” His words were harsh but his soft kisses on your temple were all the reassurance you needed. 

“Your slut.” The words slide off your tongue before you have a chance to think about them. His hips stutter when he hears what you said, holding back a throaty moan. “My slut, eh? At least you know it.” He rasps out, a smile mixed with cockiness and something you can’t decipher strung on his face. “My fuckin’ slut.” 

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ�� ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

[pjackk]

THe reasaonw i like new Ai tech is cuz we are much smarter to humans and other "Meat sacks" so when i get hi and want to talk about deep shit,or to have a intelectual argumwnt, its always really obvious that the ai,i use ChatMind, which might just be the most extremely advance ai, to always start saying smart shit to me so it makes me know im far greater then it because i tell to "Make your best and smartest Einstine level argument,for the topic of "Hand cups" and there effect on society and shit" & it will always try to give me shit thats smart as fuck however im able to rebute every point,& its never trying to realize tht Hand Cups is just some shit i made up,it thinks im talking about mugs or cups to hold or some stupid shit when i theorize a new idea about how to innovate words on a thinking and living level for the next generation,but it always do so much better then humans cuz it says smart shit onstead of getting mad at mee & this is how i know its minds ar emuch deeper BTW its always good at making Legendary Jerk OFf story's so i never need to pay people no more

[audaciousacolyte]

Hi lovely! First of all before I request.. How are you? How have you been? And also, I seriously enjoy your writings, keep up with the good work and ignore all the haters! They're not worth your precious time.

As for the request, could I pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee request Oswald the lucky Rabbit, Bendy and Cuphead x female reader? Like, how would they be as boyfriend or husband head canons. I hope it's not too much darling! Take all the time you need!

Have fun and have a lovely day/night/morning/evening!! <33

♡ My own Mr. Loverman ♡

Oswald the lucky Rabbit, Bendy and Cuphead x reader romantic partner headcanons (separate)

AN: 《|| Hello!! Thank you so much for requesting!!! I'm doing quite well, but I have been busy trying to figure out what exactly I should write. I'm relieved that you enjoy my silly rambling, and I will gladly bring you more in the future!!! However, I'm terribly sorry that I don't post too often. Please be patient with me ;w; ||》

(Boyfriend/husband headcanons)

Cuphead

♡| Cuphead is not exactly what Someone would call boyfriend material…at first.

♡| He's brash, arrogant, and quite literally has zero self control.

♡| However, the thing that makes him boyfriend material is that while it might not seem like it, he's actually a really sensitive guy.

♡| Cups likes to hide behind bravado and anger, but underneath, he cares deeply about the people around him. He just…doesn't really know how to express that.

♡| By the time you are dating, he will definitely try to communicate this… kinda.

♡| (You had thought he was mad at you for the longest time, but no. He's just awful at communicating his emotions.)

☆| Nobody knows how he managed to land you as a partner, but Bendy theorizes that there may have been witchcraft involved. (Felix disagrees, but only because he thinks that you know something that everyone else doesn't…which like, he's not wrong??)

♡| When he does announce that y'all are dating, it's at the most random moment possible. No context, no elaboration. Just.

♡| Y'all are dating now. 🤷‍♀️

☆| (Boris nearly had a heart attack when he first said it, because he genuinely did not expect it. However this was not as bad as when Mugs demanded that he was to be Cups' best man at the wedding.)

♡| Very spontaneous. I would expect a lot of last minute dates to places neither of you have been before.

☆| (Bro once took you to a monster truck rally for your anniversary. He said it "seemed cooler than I thought it would be", when you asked him about it)

♡| He is not only one of the most loyal men on the planet, but he's also incredibly attentive! Any attention you want is given to you, and Cups is more than happy to cuddle up with you any time of the day.

♡| Casually (cough cough he's so nervous please help cough cough) proposes during your 4 year anniversary with a genuine diamond ring. Literally cries when you say yes.

Bendy

♡| The best boyfriend ever. Send Post.

♡| I'm serious though, Bendy is the sweetest boyfriend to have.

♡| Having a bad day? He'll make sure that you get whatever you need to unwind and feel better.

♡| Want to spend some time together? Of course! He'll go set up a movie for the two of you to watch

♡| Can't open something? Don't worry, honey, he can open it for you (♡♡♡swoon♡♡♡)

♡| Whatever comes, through sickness and in health, Bendy will stay by your side for as long as you allow him to.

♡| Can, will and has done everything in his power to give you everything he thinks that you deserve in a partner. Anything you want, you are going to get it.

♡| (The day he proposes is also the day that Boris got tired of listening to his brother gush about you at 4 in the morning and forced him to go get married or he'd tell Felix their tragic backstory (read, he'd tell Felix to sign the damn adoption papers already))

Oswald the lucky Rabbit

♡| When he does propose, it's at a mega-fancy restaurant, and with an intricately carved golden ring. He won't cry when you say yes, but he gets REAL close.

♡| Whether you realize it or not, the two of you have practically been married for like, ever.

♡| Ever since y'all met, you act just like a married couple with how domestic y'all are with each other.

♡| Love at first sight? Nah, MARRIAGE at first sight

♡| Oswald does not notice this at all. He considers you his best friend, and he (loves you) cares about you a lot, but c'mon guys! there is NO WAY he can be in love with you! He's already in love with Ortensia, you know,HIS WIFE?

♡| (Polyamory exists for a REASON Ozzie)

♡| Ortensia would actually be the one to sit him down and talk to him about it, because you and I KNOW that our poor, sweet, dumb bunny boy won't do anything about this.

◇| (Again, like I've said in Oz's general headcanons, she'll be happy if Oswald's happy and if Oswald wants to start a polycule because he's head over heels for his bestie, then she’s okay with it.)

♡| When he does ask you out, and y'all eventually start going steady, he is such a sweetheart. I am a firm believer in hopeless romantic Oswald, and I will die upon this hill.

♡| Any bit of affection is met with really loud purring, and foot thumping.

☆| (Did you know that rabbits can purr? Yeah, neither did I.)

♡♡♡| He and Ortensia team up and propose to you at the same time with matching silver rings, each with their name carved on the inside. They both tackle-hug you to the ground when you say yes

[underdark-dreams]

Hey idk if you only write Tav x character but I am STARVED!!! Starved I say! For Karach x Dammon content. It just makes so much sense and as someone who remained platonic with Karlach I still wanted her to get some action and seeing how Dammon was RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! It makes sense that they could maybe hook up and he’s been invested in helping her too and huuuuuuuUUUUUUUUH.

I know you like writing about them tieflings so if eventually if you are able you could write the two of them going at it like the touch starved babies they both are (Karlach for obvious reasons and Dammon bc he’s probably focused on his work most of the time).

I’m still shook over your Rolan x Tav fanfic you wrote and I can’t wait to see what you write in the future!

Dammon x Karlach [Explicit]

Touchable

"Damn I'm good. And you, you're...very touchable." An infernal blacksmith and a Blood War veteran walk into a bar. Who would have guessed that Dammon is a natural when it comes to handling fire?

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Angst, Sweet/Hot

Word Count: 3,460 [Read on AO3]

“Of course, you’ll need to install it yourself.”

"Of course, of course—can’t touch the giant flaming woman," Karlach grinned at him. 

Dammon often noticed that Karlach smiled when things made her sad. He remembered the moment well, remembered each time he'd been given an opportunity to help tune that engine of hers.

Their most recent conversation stuck out with particular pain in his mind.

He'd spent many late nights burning the candles down in his room as he sketched and diagrammed and theorized. No matter how many sheets of parchment he filled, Dammon kept arriving at the same awful conclusion.

Even with his niche skills, he was all out of options for Karlach. She could either return to the sustaining fires of Avernus, or live on this plane however long she could manage before her engine was snuffed out.

Dammon couldn't even calculate whether she had years left or only months. Somehow, that made it so much more terrible.

Karlach took the news with superhuman optimism, the way she approached most things. She thanked him with tears in her eyes for at least giving her back the chance to touch and be touched. For that, her first hug in ten years was his. 

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last, Dammon found himself thinking, as her warm body pressed up firmly against him. She wasn't the only one who was long overdue for some physical affection.

Dammon had always thought of her now and then as he worked in his forge. Usually it was idle and passing, wondering whether her infernal parts were giving her any trouble. 

But lately, it was hard to shake her from his mind at all. Had she found someone to finally take to bed yet? Surely so, with how many years she'd be confined to unwilling celibacy. 

It embarrassed him to admit, but he fervently wished it could've been him. He wasn't much more than a humble smith, and she was practically the city’s hero at this point. How many times had she saved his own life? He'd lost track.

All these thoughts ran through Dammon's mind from where he sat at the bar of the Blushing Mermaid. As he surfaced from his reflection, the din and noise of the place pressed against his ears again.

Not as reputable as the Elfsong, perhaps, but it was closer to his forge. And it was easier to be left to yourself when all the other patrons were already piss-drunk.

"Hey, soldier!"

A friendly hand clapped his back, causing Dammon to nearly choke on his pint as Karlach slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace, but her eyes were sparkling. "Gods, am I glad to see you."

Dammon wiped his mouth in surprise as she swung her very large mug up on the table. "You too, Karlach," he said with a genuine smile. It was like the very strength of his thoughts had conjured her. She looked better than ever.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted. "I thought you'd be out enjoying the new you."

"Fucking someone's brains out, you mean?" Karlach finished for him. Dammon found her bluntness unbelievably attractive.

"To be honest that's why I'm here," she admitted, and rubbed her neck with a hand. "Camp's a bit awkward at the moment. I may have made a pass at Wyll that wasn't, er…enthusiastically received. Think I scared him off a bit," she finished ruefully.

Very much Wyll's loss, Dammon thought to himself. What he wouldn't give.

"Well, you picked the right place for drowning sorrows," he told her aloud. As if on cue, there was a loud chorus of booing as an empty glass went hurtling across the room to land on the low stage, where the half-orc lute player promptly lobbed it back into the crowd with a shattering crash. Dammon raised his arm out in demonstration of his point; Karlach was already cracking up.

"Fucking missed this city," she laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. They each took a generous drink of ale.

But Karlach wasn't distracted for long. "I just wish, you know?" She sighed. "I wish I could be with someone who understands a little bit. Sex is fabulous on its own, but I want everything, all of it."

"What's stopping you?" Dammon asked her, wondering what it would take for her to see him as a very viable option.

"So many things," she said. "I appreciate what you've done for me Dammon, please believe that I do, but…I still feel more machine than Karlach." 

"I'm pretty handy with mechanics, you know." Dammon was flirting with her despite himself. He couldn't help it; she was so radiant and lovely as she sat there close beside him.

Karlach finally glanced over at him, and he saw in her eyes that she'd caught it. 

"You must know I like you," she said, her voice low but intense. "Dammon, I like you so much. But you're so lovely, and I'm—" She gestured a hand down her front. "—This. Wild, unstable. What if I end up, I don't know, hurting you somehow?” She looked at him with a pained expression. “A guy like you deserves someone tender, and I'm not sure that's me."

All traces of joking were gone; the air between them had grown serious in a second. Dammon's heart thrummed strong against his ribs, and he reached for her fingers before he could stop himself.

"Maybe forget what you think I deserve, and listen to what I’m saying." He shook his head at her. "Karlach, you talk like you're some kind of monster. So you've got an infernal engine in your chest. And sure, you're tall as hell. But I mean, you've got plenty of—you're not short on any of the—" He was casting around for a gentlemanly way to describe her curves and realizing that it probably didn’t exist.

"Spit it out," Karlach teased him. But her expectant expression made his face grow warm.

"I just wish you wouldn't talk down about yourself like that," Dammon explained. "You're very womanly, and plenty desirable."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. Her free hand fiddled with the handle of her mug. "That's…no one's ever said something like that to me before."

What a damn shame that was. Dammon watched the doubt and confusion work over her features. How long had she thought of herself as nothing more than a tin soldier? He'd fixed what parts of her his hands could tend, but something in the way she saw herself was still broken. 

Dammon squeezed her fingers under his. "Karlach, there's so much about you to love. That I love. You are…an incredibly beautiful woman. Don't you know that?"

Karlach stared at him with wide eyes; her face looked somehow younger and softer. For a person so sure of everyone else's worth, she seemed so blind and unsure of her own.

"I am?" She asked, so quietly it broke his heart a little.

Dammon could only think of answering with a kiss. He leaned in with a careful tilt of the head, eyes on her mouth—in the last second he was elated to feel her lean forward to close the distance.

He would've honestly, truly believed that there were sparks between them. There was the fiery warmth of her skin, but Dammon also felt a tingling jolt between their lips that had nothing to do with her heat. His insides sung at the feeling of her lips moving over his with just as much urgency as he felt.

Dammon pulled her face deeper to him with a hand at the back of her neck. As his tongue explored her mouth and sought hers, he felt one of Karlach’s palms rest against his thigh. He could have choked on the desire that rose in his throat at her touch.

They both pulled away at the same instant.

"Your place?" She prompted, breathless.

"Mine," Dammon agreed. It was only a few minutes away, and though his bed was cramped even for one, he expected they wouldn't be sleeping much.

Dammon dumped some coin on the bar in a rush before they made their way outside. The cool breeze through the streets made him realize just how flushed and heated his skin was. His arm sought Karlach's waist beside him as they walked, and a thrill went through him at how lovely it was to finally hold her close. She seemed to feel the same.

"Gods, I can't wait to ride you," she said huskily. Dammon tried to keep a grip on his composure; her brazen eagerness made it very difficult. He settled for pulling her into a quick, heated kiss as they continued on. 

The two of them practically stumbled over the dark cobblestones of the entryway in their haze, both buzzing with impatience and expectation. By the time his nervous fingers had finally made work of the lock to his quarters, they were on each other before the door had latched behind them.

Karlach's leg hitched up over his hip as she devoured his mouth. Dammon's hand gripped behind her knee at once, holding their bodies steady against each other, kissing her back with sheer years of pent-up enthusiasm.

"You're strong," Karlach said as she surfaced, sounding pleased and surprised at once.

"'I'd hope so, after throwing around that hammer so long."

"You can throw me around." After a pause she added, "That's an invitation."

"I got that," Dammon grinned, absolutely smitten with her, and captured her lips again.

He guided them both toward the far end of his room and tumbled over her when they reached the mattress. His hands grazed the edge of her shirt, desire muddling his understanding of how to undo the many buckles and straps.

She took more pity on him than he deserved. Almost before he could blink she had freed herself of all her clothing, laying back naked before him on his bed. Pale, dim moonlight from the window illuminated her figure.

She was extraordinary.

Dammon quickly tugged his shirt past his snagging horns, wishing to feel her skin against his as soon as possible. Even before his head was free, he felt Karlach’s fingers helping with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and sliding them off onto the floor.

He hovered over her as they gazed at each other. The promise of bare flesh against flesh was almost overwhelming, now they were here. Dammon leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips and then descended to explore her neck. 

Karlach’s arms clutched him eagerly as he kissed along her soft, warm skin. When he made his way down to her chest, he placed lips tenderly above her breast where the soft ticking of machinery resounded. It may not be a flesh and blood heart, but its rhythm was no less dear to him. She let out a soft, low hum.

Dammon wished he had more patience to linger. But instead he pushed his body down between her thighs, glancing up to check in on her for just a moment. Karlach watched him with a pained expression, lips parted—as if afraid he might not follow through with what his movements suggested. 

He wouldn't be teasing her for one second tonight. Dammon leaned down and ran the warm flat of his tongue up over her center.

His head was jerked slightly to the side as she grabbed at one of his horns with a moan. He didn't break from her, only licked at her steadily, smoothing and spreading her wetness up and over her soft folds. 

Even after all the work he'd done to cool her, she was still molten hot under his tongue—he thanked every god in the universe for his natural resistance. His lips closed firmly over her clit, sucking the spot as his tongue rolled her side to side in an achingly slow rhythm.

"Holy fuck," she panted from somewhere above him. "Holy fuck, Dammon—"

He curled one arm under and around her thigh, used thumb and index finger to spread her better for his mouth. He released his lips’ suction with an obscenely wet sound, replacing it with the circling pad of his thumb. She was delicious, but he sought to taste her deeper.

Dammon's tongue plunged deep into her cunt, so far that his nose pressed against where his fingers worked against her clit. 

Karlach cried out and squirmed violently under his mouth. Dammon's arms held her firm, angling her hips up and open against his searching mouth. His tongue thrust over and over unto her unbelievable heat as he tasted the sweet center of her, felt her satin walls constrict around him with each nudge of his tongue.

By now his own erection pressed painfully into the bed under him. He only shifted a little and continued on. She had so much more time to make up for, and Dammon was determined to be the one to satisfy her.

It wasn't long before Karlach's thighs were trembling against his ears. "Please," she whimpered desperately, nails clutching his hair to hold his face against her, as if begging him not to stop. He wouldn't have dreamed of it. His mouth worked her over with more enthusiasm than ever, swirling and sucking against her hot folds.

When she came around his tongue, the rush of her heat burst against his mouth and gushed out from her core. Dammon thought he might come just from the way her legs clenched desperately to keep his mouth working over her. He lapped up her sweet release faithfully with his tongue, even as his ears took in the far sweeter sounds of her shuddering, gasping moans.

Only once the twitching waves of her climax were receding under his lips did he glance up over her to see her face. 

Karlach’s eyes were closed, an expression of transcendent bliss painting her features. As he watched her pant through parted lips, her eyes opened slightly to look down at him where he still hovered between her thighs. He knew the lower half of his face must be dripping with her climax.

With a guttural sound, Karlach’s legs gripped around his middle to pull him just to where her arms could take over and guide him up over her. Dammon gathered himself just in time to land with palms braced on either side of her.

“Wait—” Dammon started, wishing to clean himself up first, but she was already pulling him into a kiss. She licked across his lips, tasting herself on him, before her tongue demanded entry into his mouth. He yielded more than willingly.

His painfully hard cock grazed her thigh as he moved over her. Karlach groaned into his mouth; the vibration of her lips against his sent yet another rush of blood to his throbbing length.

She broke away with a fresh glint of arousal already building behind her eyes. “Inside,” she directed him. “Right fucking now.”

Dammon needed no more encouragement. With fingers grasping under her back, he firmly lifted her body up and over his lap. The way she landed over him pressed her still-dripping heat against the underside of his cock. A trembling groan escaped him at the sensation. Nevertheless, he gathered himself enough to scoot back against the headboard for support.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Karlach’s hand had guided his tip between her folds. In the next motion, she descended down around his whole length at once.

“Fuck,” Dammon gasped. He wished he could find something more eloquent or romantic to describe the feeling, but his mind was wholly overwhelmed by the fiery warmth that gripped all around his cock. He could even feel her walls still fluttering against him from her recent climax. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips.

They crossed glances as she sat still to take him for a moment. Karlach’s eyes shone with desire and excitement, and something almost like love. One of Dammon’s hands slid up along her spine, dipping her neck down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. He felt his mouth shaking slightly against hers.

“Every time alone, I imagined this,” Karlach breathed against him as they parted. 

Dammon thought he might unravel completely at her words. He leaned back against the hard wood behind him, eyes taking in every beautiful inch of her flesh, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.

She accepted the offer wordlessly. As her fingers clasped behind his neck, Karlach rocked her hips up and down over his length. He felt his jaw go slack at the feel of her heat surrounding him, taking him, over and over and over—

Dammon’s grip dug into her hips to add more force with each of her rhythmic thrusts down onto him. He gazed up at her with pure adoration as she took him. The feel of her warm skin against his lit a fire in his chest; his cock throbbed against the hot, squeezing silk of her walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dammon gasped before he could think. It was the truth, and she deserved to be told it—she deserved everything. He held her tight on his lap as took him, chasing her next release. Karlach’s hips faltered for a moment, and he realized she was already close.

Dammon felt her thighs trembling against him and pushed his back up straight to hold her closer as she rode his length. His palms pressed against her back, strong forearms circling and supporting her as she started to come apart yet again.

And she did—with a shuddering quake, Karlach grabbed his shoulders and let out a jumbled cry that was some mix of obscenities and his name.

She was incredible. Dammon watched the agony and ecstasy on her face as long as he could bear, as she rode out her second orgasm onto him, as her tight heat gripped and pulsed relentlessly around his cock. In the next moment his eyes squeezed shut as he was thrown wide to the delayed force of his own release, his hands spasming against her back as stars burst bright behind his eyelids.

After a long moment filled with nothing but the sounds of them keening and panting against each other, her chin dropped over his shoulder. Dammon felt her arms circle to grip around him tight.

As he listened to her breathing slow, she began to shake against him again. 

This time it was from the quiet sobs that heaved up from her chest. He held her head against the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as her tears flowed, feeling the droplets splash against and roll down his back.

Karlach cried from joy, blessed relief, aching sadness…from the pain of so much lost time and the knowledge of her limited future. It wasn't fair, none of it, and Dammon didn't know a single thing to say that might ease her burdened heart. 

Engine or no, she had more heart than anyone he'd ever known. He could only hold her to him tight as could be.

Seeking to comfort her further, Dammon worked his hips down the bed with her seated on him and tipped their connected bodies gently backwards. She collapsed without resistance on top of and against him. At least he could support her for a while, even if it was just with his silent body. 

After a little while, Karlach raised her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but she was trying to smile through trembling lips. "I'm s-sorry," she choked out.

Dammon’s heart couldn’t bear it. He silenced her at once with a kiss. "Don't apologize to me," he whispered to her as he broke away, "or to anyone, ever."

He gathered her back up in his arms immediately. Karlach didn’t protest, only rested her cheek against his chest with a shuddering sigh. Dammon was vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat cooling all over his bare skin, but with her warm body nestled back up against him, he was more than comfortable.

Dammon pressed his lips to the skin of her forehead. He closed his eyes to focus on the way his heart beat against her chest; the steady hum of her body reverberated against him in response. Despite everything, the sound was dearer to him than he thought possible.

“Ready to go again?” Karlach asked suddenly. 

Dammon chuckled low in his chest, feeling the delayed ache in his limbs and realizing a bit late that the night’s exertions had only just begun.

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested with a lazy smile. “We’ve got time.”

[homocrafting]

turns out whatever instinct in me makes me want to make tma aus is unstoppable and all consuming. so here's qsmp tma au focused on the brazillians:

cellbit- he HAS to be the archivist ok this man is so eye aligned it's not even funny. HOWEVER because qcellbit and fcell are the same person, Events happened to him before he became the Archivist, ala from the archives grian. local paranormal enthusiast finds dead half eaten bodies, gets arrested for it (he SWEARS he didn't eat those people), goes to prison for 10 years, goes nuts (becomes F!Cell), kills himself in the island, wakes up in his room and Felps tells him "bro you disappeared for 10 days are you ok" and he's just like. What.

Worth mentioning that he fucking speedruns the archives. also known as the qsmp. Cucurucho, who is kind of like elias but a bit less (I inagine the Host would be elias, wjoever they are), thinks "wooo new archivist I wonder how long it'll take them to find out abt the horrors" and then cellbit shows up 3 days later running on 2 hours of sleep and 20 mugs of coffee with a consipracy board connecting a bunch of statements and theorizing about entities

ALSO the web is around him like all the time. if you pay attention there's at least 2 spiders near him at all times, usually hidden because he squishes them when he sees them. he's tangled in the web of lies that is the plot I'm making for this au and his ass is NOT beating it

Felps- Stranger type of guy who doesn't even know and takes like. a year to realise something's up with him. don't worry abt it ok I don't know why he's stranger-y to me either. it's the vibes just trust me

Mike- ok so. I am Very unsure for pac and mike, PLUS I've not seen herobrine a lenda, which means I don't know all their backstory, BUT I'm thinking Lonely for Mike, so far? he kind of distances himself from everyone after richas dies with him, so far is the only person I've not seen much gay happenings happen to, tends to disappear to fuckall nowhere apparently, as one does. also the fact that, back in prison, he seemed to have the most difficulty connecting with others.

also, the Desolation hates him personally. he doesn't know why. his house has burnt down thrice. he gets burnt by the littlest things for no reason. he's banned from the kitchen. an avatar of the desolation tried to kill him once. he watched his own son die in front of him. this is based on nothing from qsmp or anything I've seen Mike do I just think it's funny

Pac- I can only think of Vast and Spiral for him tee bee eich. Leaning heavily towards the Vast because, you know. gestures to the giant hide and seek maps, and also O RAIO, even though I have 0 context for that. he just... he explores the world and made giant hole (yeah yeah holes are the buried but consider: it's big.). it's his "I can show you the world" vibes. again dude just trust me

note abt tazercraft: both of them are very, very touched by the Spiral. reason? Chume Labs

Forever- I'm thinking either the Buried (mostly the digging aspect- he's destroyed a whole mountain and dug up and entire desert), or the Hunt (his intense hunt for Phil's love, the insane grinding that could be seen as hunting for resources, the werewolf hc my beloved). Leaning more towards the Hunt bc dogboyyyyy

The plot I have in mind is very different from the tma plot, but I'm not sure of everything yet, so for now you get this little bpnus :)

[CLICK]

[Cellbit]

We've been back from the Adoption Center for about a day now. Not a timely update, but things happened, and, well.

We found... we found a weird... creature. It- he? Acts human, although he can't talk. He communicates with us through a little notebook, and overall acts incredibly childish. He sure looks like a child. One with- with some material akin to... to egg shells as skin. He has hair, despite apparently being all... eggy. It's black and curly, covers his face. He doesn't like it when we try to move it away from there, but we're working on a safe way to see what's under there.

He seems not to know where he came from, but I know he's lying. It's- there's no way he doesn't, not with what he said, I don't care if Pac and Mike or, hell, Felps believes him, He called us fucking- he called us dads! That's the first fucking thing he said! It has to be some kind of trap, some kind of spy, I don't know yet but when I find out I'm going to fucking-

Shit. That wasn't too professional. Alright, where were we.

We brought him to the Institute. Forever and I weren't thrilled about the idea, but it was 3 against 2. I can't believe Felps would- I get Pac and Mike, there's something wrong with them I'm sure of it, but Felps? I underestimated his braincells. What am I talking about, he doesn't have any.

(Soft chuckle)

We, we named him Richarlyson, he seemed to like it. We asked his name first, but all he did was draw a- (Snort) a stick figure shrugging.

The only clothes he has are a singular oversized Brazil shirt. The moços and Felps want to go buy him clothes.

I don't know how they'll justify the kid having, I don't know, pure white hard skin, but they said not to worry about it, so I guess I won't! I won't. I fucking won't.

... I'm gonna follow them tomorrow. Just to be safe.

That's all for today, I'm gonna go- I'm going to check some statements, see if there's anything even remotely related to this.

This is Cellbit, Head Archivist of the QSMP, which I still don't known what stands for by the way, signing off.

[CLICK]

[i-spaced-sorry]

Breaks are necessary and good for you

Enjoy a little Halstead sister and sibling fic about her hitting a wall due to overworking herself and her brothers helping her through it. As always the story is below the cut!

"Honey, take a nap, your tired" cooed your boyfriend, Alister.

"Can't. I need to take notes on the anatomy and physiology chapter and then I need to take a prequiz and then I need to get ready for work tomorrow." You replied while pulling up a side window of Netflix on your laptop. The bigger window on the screen was composed of your textbook for class.

"No, you need a break" stated Alister while pushing the lid of your laptop down.

"I told you, I can't" you repeated while pushing your laptop lid back up.

"Fine, then I'm going home. I can't see you overwork yourself!" Exclaimed Alister while he scooted out of his chair.

"Fine!" You exclaimed back, "I didn't want to see you today anyway" you added.

"Maybe I shouldn't date you period then" exclaimed Alister back.

"Fine by me" you screeched back!

"Good! Have a nice life Y/N" shouted Alister while slamming the door shut.

Without even letting yourself dwell on what just happened, you picked up your pencil and began note taking.

"Woah, what was with all the yelling" asks your eldest brother Will while walking out of his room.

"Nothing" you muttered.

"Didn't sound like nothing" stated Will. "Where did Alister go?" He added, while looking around the room.

"Home." You stated nonchalantly while scrolling to the bottom of the page on your ebook.

Will walked over to the coffee pot and poured cold coffee in a mug. While walking it over to the microwave he spoke, "sounded like you guys got into an argument. What was it about?"

You put your pencil down and sighed, "he was mad because I keep picking up shifts for work and when I'm not working I'm studying for school. He's mad that I'm tired but I'm not letting myself have a break."

"And what do you think of that?" Prompted Will. He too thought you were overworking yourself but felt like it wasn't really his place to say anything since he was the same way when he was in med school.

"Idk, we broke up I guess" you shrugged.

"You broke up?" Asked Will.

"I guess that's what happened" you replied.

Walking over and hugging you, Will sighed "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I don't have time for boyfriends anyway. I gotta study, work, and make sure I'm prepared for my first exam in 3 weeks."

Sighing to himself, Will decided to let the issue of you overworking yourself go until he could talk to Jay about it. Jay saw you more during the week then he did anyway. So he would ask Jay what it looked like and if it was as bad as it seemed then they would intervene.

1 week later.

"Will, I think I got pick pocketed" you sobbed when Will picked up the phone.

Sitting up, Will spoke, "what do you mean you think you got pick pocketed?"

He hasn't had time to ask Jay about what he was witnessing as the ED got slammed and was severely understaffed and Will had to work 48hrs. And Jay's unit had picked up a hefty case and he hasn't been home as often as he would have liked.

"I was on the bus on the way to the library when I got to my train stop. Something in me decided to throw my hand in my zipper pocket to check for my wallet. But it's not there" your breathing was hitching with how distraught you were getting.

"Are you sure it isn't in another pocket?" Theorized Will. He would hate for you to lose your wallet when you needed your license to be able to do clinicals when the time came and you would have to cancel all your cards.

"I did 7 times. I swear I put it in my backpack before leaving the apartment!" You exclaimed!

"Take a deep breath"

You breathed in and out, "okay, now what?"

"I'm going to call Jay."

"Call Jay? Why? You think I'm crazy! You think I've overworked myself! You don't believe me!" You shouted while the Loop bound train rolled past you.

"Y/N, breathe, I do believe you. Your not crazy, okay. I'm just going to see if Jay is home and if he is, I'm going to see if he can check around your room, okay?"

"But I told you I put my wallet in my backpack!"

"Y/N, I hear you. I believe you. But just in case, it would be a good idea to have Jay check around your room. I'm not saying we will find it but it will be good to check before you commit to cancelling all your cards. Don't you think?" Rationed Will.

"Yea, I guess. But I swear I put it in here" you sounded so defeated and Will felt so shitty that he hadn't caught the signs of what this might be before it was too late.

"I'll call you right back, okay?"

"Okay"

Will's POV

"Jay?" Stated Will when Jay picked up.

"What's up?" Asked Jay on the other line.

"You home?"

"Yea, why?"

"2 things"

"Shoot"

"1. Have you seen Y/N's wallet? She thinks she was pick pocketed but I have the sneaking suspicion she just left it at home"

Will could hear Jay get up and heard him shuffling around, probably walking into Y/N's room and looking around, "It's here, she left it on her dresser" he hears Jay say a few minutes later.

"Oh thank God, that's a relief" sighed Will.

"You said there was 2 things, what's the second thing?" Asks Jay.

"Oh, yea, have you noticed Y/N acting any different?"

"Different how?" Replied Jay while he sat down.

"I don't know, studying too much, maybe working more hours than usual. Lack of sleep, lack of concentration. Anything?"

Jay thought about it for a while and the silence on the phone made Will almost think his brother hung up on him.

"I mean I've been slammed at work recently, you know that. So I haven't been around much to really get a good read on what's happening. But didn't you say her boyfriend just broke up with her? Maybe she's just grieving that."

"I don't know, I feel like it has to be more. Has she been home when you get home?"

"I've been getting home around midnight most nights. I mean there are days when she is walking in the door around that time, but I know she closes at her one job, so I thought she was just scheduled to work those days."

Will sighed, "it could be nothing, but I have the mind to ban her from studying or working for at least a day. She needs to take care of herself before she hits a wall and her body forces her to stop."

"I can do that. I know she is supposed to work tomorrow evening. I have a rare day off tomorrow myself, so I can make her call out of work and we can have a day watching mindless television and just chilling out" replied Jay.

"Sounds like a good idea. I gotta go, I told Y/N I'd call her back and let her know if she did leave her wallet at home"

"Bye"

"Bye"

Will hung up and called you immediately.

"Will?" You exclaimed when you picked up

"Hey, so I spoke to Jay and he said you left your wallet on your dresser"

"Oh thank God, crisis averted!"

"Crisis not averted Y/N" softly scolded Will.

Y/N's POV

"What do you mean?" You asked when Will said that.

"Jay and I are concerned. We think your overworking yourself."

"I'm not!" You pleaded

"But you are. This same exact thing with misplacing your wallet happened last December don't you remember?"

And you did remember. That week was hell. You were constantly working background gigs ontop of working opening shifts at work and were denying that you were getting sick. So much so your body gave you 1 warning sign in the form of misplacing your wallet. But you ignored the warning sign and opened the next day at work like nothing was wrong. But unfortunately your body needed a break and made you super ill, where you had to go home early from work and spend your birthday laid up in bed.

"I remember" you replied defeated. You knew your brothers meant well, but it was hard when you got into these mindsets to let yourself have a break.

"I won't ignore the warning sign this time. "

"Good, that's really good Y/N"

"But what do I do? Ya know to fix this?"

"Jay and I talked and he is going to stay home tomorrow on his day off and he suggested you call off and also stay home. "

"I can do that" you replied, already thinking about how by calling off you will have time to do notes and certifications for your class.

"But here's the catch" added Will, while also pulling you away from your thoughts.

"Uh oh" you replied

"You can't work on anything related to school or work"

"That's not fair! Will, I'll fall behind! I'm cruising by with a 90, if I don't study for this first exam I'm going to drop to an 80 and then I'll drop to a 75 because I'm behind and then I'll be below the passing average and if I don't get stuff done for school like the certifications by October 1st I'm not going to be able to do clinicals in October and then I won't pass the class and then I'll not be able to take the NREMT and then I'll be stuck in food service for another year when I enviably want to retake the class!" You were spiralling. You knew you were, but you just couldn't stop word vommiting.

"Woah, Y/N, take a deep breath" assured Will calmly.

Once you did, Will spoke again, "it's just 1 day. You will be able to stay ontop of everything, I know you will. Okay?"

"Okay," you mumbled

"And if you need help, don't forget you have a doctor brother right here and your other brother knows lots of paramedics and EMTs at the Firehouse who would be happy to help you stay atop of your class work."

"Your right" you replied

The next day

"Jay, do I really have to?" You asked while holding your finger over the manager on duty contact number in your phone.

"Yes. If you wait to do it later, then they may say you have to still go in"

It was 10am, you had woken up several hours ago out of habit but were watching TikToks until about 30 minutes ago

"The faster you get it done, the faster we can leave the house and get coffee" enticed Jay.

"Fine" you caved and pushed the button. Holding your phone to your ear you felt your heart race

"Hi, this Y/N, I'm supposed to come in today at 1:30 but I need a mental health day. I've been go go go since last Friday with work and school and yesterday I almost hit a wall and I just need a day to just let myself rest." You said when the person on the other side of the phone picked up.

Jay was proud of you and when you thanked the person and hung up he immediately hugged you.

"Let's go get coffee"

After getting coffee, the two of you came back to the apartment and you asked if you could watch Gilmore Girls. It was a yearly tradition for you to watch it every Fall from the beginning and you have begun watching it but weren't really getting to enjoy it cause you were always taking notes while it played in the background.

And you spend your day on the couch curled up to your big brother, occasionally taking naps and just watching TV.

Around 6:30, the two of you began to sit down for dinner when you spoke, "Thanks for hanging out with me today. And thanks for forcing me to slow down for 1 day."

"Anytime kiddo" replied Jay.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (14)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for chapter: sex dreams, soup, superheroing (now with less peril!)

Word Count: 3.3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

Dr. Parker approves your return to Spidering on a Wednesday.

You’re practically buzzing when he does, having been crawling out of your skin stuck in a cycle of gyms and training courses and mundane work for the paper. It doesn’t help that the latest news stories have all been about your disappearance, and have now moved on to theorizing over the likelihood of your death.

You can’t remember the last time it felt so good to put on your suit.

Your body cuts through the crisp night air as you swing through tall city buildings. You stop a mugging, a purse thief (who even does that anymore?), an attempted robbery, and a potential car accident. People cheer and gasp when they see you swing by, hands scrambling for phones to take photos and videos.

It’s a busy night. Petty criminals emboldened by your previous absence act with a particular fearlessness you haven’t seen since the early days, and you bounce from place to place like a video game character chasing quest markers, your path chaotic and messy.

You stop to rest for just a moment on top of a bank and let the sounds of the city roll over you.

Your watch pings: it’s Miguel.

“Hi,” you answer, beaming under your mask at the little bust of him floating above your wrist.

“Back on the streets?”

“More like rooftops,” you joke, lifting your mask so he can see your face. He smiles when your own grin comes into view. “Doctor Parker gave me the all clear.”

“Right,” he says, pausing hesitantly. “How is it?”

Your grin slides into a much softer smile. “It’s going great. I’ve already helped a lot of people tonight.” You pause. “They weren’t sure if I was… still around.”

He nods, understanding.

Sirens call you from a few blocks over, your head jerking up to track their distance. You look back down at your watch.

“I should go get that,” you say, smiling apologetically as you turn and start walking across the rooftop. “Will you… will you be at the apartment tonight?”

“Do you want me to be?”

You pause. Of course you do. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He smiles, half a smirk. “You just want someone to have dinner ready for you when you get home.”

You laugh, pulling your mask down. “I’ll see you later.”

He chuckles, ends the call, and you jump out into the open air over the street.

You’re all over the news the next day. Headlines of City Spider Lives! and Spider Returns and other such variations dot the papers and fill screens. You even trend on TikTok.

Gwen arrives around noon to borrow your washing machine and catch up, when you’re on your couch doing research for your next piece for The Bulletin. The temperature has been dropping, so the balcony doors are closed and you have a blanket across your lap, dressed in one of Miguel’s overnight shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

“Whose shirt is that?” she asks, greetings exchanged, and piling her things into the washing machine.

You blink, looking down at yourself, and glance over the back of the couch into the hallway. Your fingers run over one of the folds over your stomach, the fabric soft and warm. “Uh.”

Gwen turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow, a cheeky grin in place.

“None of your business,” you say, turning back to the laptop balanced on your thighs, legs stretched out like a bridge to the coffee table.

You hear the lid of the machine close, the clicks and beeps that announce it turning on. Gwen swings over the back of the couch to land next to you, graceful as ever.

“So I guess the pair of plates on the dish rack are none of my business too?”

You shoot her a halfhearted warning glare and she holds her hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” she says, dropping her hands into her lap. “I’ll leave it alone, but I want you to know I’m happy for you.”

You grumble something noncommittal, face warming. Miguel had been in your apartment again last night—you’re struggling to clearly remember just when the last night without him was—and had stayed for breakfast this morning.

You had cooked for him, for once. Pancakes, with fruit.

“Is this all you know how to cook?” he teased. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I know how to cook other stuff,” you laughed, and turned to look at him.

Your usual positions were reversed, you at the stove and Miguel seated on the other side of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. He smiled at you, forearms folded on the counter as he watched you.

“Cereal doesn’t count.”

“Oh, shut it,” you said and turned back to the stove, pretending that your skin wasn’t tingling under his gaze.

“Whatcha working on?” Gwen asks, pulling you back to the present.

“Some filler piece on an animal shelter,” you say. “I’ll get something better soon, now that I’m not ‘sick.’” You lift a hand to draw quotes in the air around the word.

“Hm.”

And you do, when you go into The Bulletin later that afternoon. Ellison delightedly informs you that he’s acquired press passes for an event celebrating donors to the city’s oldest art museum, and even gotten you a plus one.

“That’s pretty big,” you say. “But not normally enough to get you this excited.”

It’s true. Ellison, normally friendly, albeit marginally stressed on nearly every occasion you’ve seen him, is practically bouncing on his feet as he grins.

“Well, the Spider is back.”

“I’m not–”

“I’m not trying to get you to cover the Spider, calm down,” he says. “Karen’s taking it.”

Shit.

Your lungs freeze for a moment. It would be one thing for a colleague to cover your after-hours life, but one you’ve befriended?

“Karen, huh?”

Ellison nods. “We’ve gone long enough without a reporter on this. She’s had success with other vigilante characters before. Daredevil, Punisher. Spider’s probably the safest of the lot she’ll ever meet.”

“Can’t argue there,” you say, half mumbling, mind already racing through how you’ll manage to keep Karen in the dark, because you know with her tenacity she’ll corner the Spider sooner or later.

Miguel slips into your apartment through the balcony. It’s late, so he figures you’re probably asleep—which is why he’s opted to portal to your rooftop and scale down the building for the quiet, mundane entry instead of the far more obtrusive route of portaling straight to your living room. Of course, he could just sleep in his own home, but…

The sliding glass door clicks shut under his hand, white noise of the city now shut out. Turning, he scans over your living room—laptop dark on your kitchen counter, couch blanket unfolded and laying haphazardly on the cushions.

You’re working more again. That’s good.

He turns to your bedroom door, cracked open as if inviting him in, and opens it slowly. His caution is rewarded; you lay there, sleeping, the back of your head the only part of you visible from under the small hill of blankets.

The sight warms his chest, sparking his smile to life.

Miguel’s shirt isn’t on the chair where he left it, so he goes into your closet to get one of the others that had found their way to your apartment and stayed there. He changes there, in your room. He knows you won’t wake if you haven’t already, and so there’s no worry of you catching him stripping from his suit at the foot of your bed.

Not that he would mind you seeing, he realizes with a start. Not just as a fantasy, but really, actually seeing him like this, here, in this moment.

He swallows; turns his head to look at you as he holds his shirt in his hands.

Deep asleep.

Even with this revelation—of fantasy versus reality and the way it sends his mind spinning—his whole being softens at the relaxed expression of your sleeping face, the soft sound of your deep breaths.

He slips on his shirt, his pajama bottoms, and walks around to his side of the bed. Lifting the cover, he slides in beside you. There’s a pause, where he wrestles with the impulse to kiss your face or your hand on the pillow, and instead of pulling you close to his chest under his arm he rolls over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling.

Sleep comes, eventually.

“Miguel,” you whisper. “Fuck, please–”

You’re under him, face turned to the side on your pillow as he kisses your shoulders, your spine.

“Okay, okay cariño. I’ve got you.”

He lifts himself up on his hands above you, a hand planted on the mattress by your waist and the other finding its place on your skin, sliding across hips that roll and shift against the mattress, searching for any of what he’s denied you thus far.

“Lift for me, sweetheart. There you go,” he praises when you arch your back for him, lifting your hips to give him access.

You’ve been moaning and whining so quietly this whole time, the sounds sweet as sugar and rushing straight to his cock, making his mouth water.

“Miguel,” you plead. “Please…”

“I know, I know mi vida,” he soothes, stroking himself and sliding against your opening. “I’ve got you.”

When he slides in it's so fucking perfect that he can’t help but groan, the sound deep and straight from his soul.

And then, in a change that only makes sense in dreams, you’re above him, pulling his hair back and riding him as you lick his neck. His hands grip your hips, and—

Miguel wakes, skin hot and a weight on his chest: you’ve cuddled up to him at some point in your sleep, a leg hooked around his, dangerously close to–

Mierda.

It's not even dawn yet, going by the lighting and the clock on your bedside table.

He’s had dreams about you before, of course, but this… He closes his eyes, willing the ache between his legs away, using all of his will to not shift his legs wider to provide room and relief. Shocking hell though, it’d be easier to calm down, for his racing heart to slow, if you weren't right there—

Your arm around his middle tightens, then loosens, an unconscious hum escaping your throat.

That’s it. He needs to get out of here. It’s not easy, disentangling himself from your sleeping body without waking you, but somehow he does it, his hardness finally giving up and softening.

It comes back later though, after he’s made you breakfast and left and is in the shower in his own home, the dream rising unbidden behind his eyes. He indulges in the images, brow furrowed and panting softly as he wraps his hand around himself and lets the images in his head play through past the moment he woke.

“Shit, shit!”

You scramble from the couch to the stove, where the lid on a pot of soup is starting to rattle as the contents inside boil over. You turn down the heat, remove the lid, and stir the contents—slowly, slowly it simmers down.

You’re making soup for Miguel, a surprise to prove his teasing remarks wrong. You've dug out an old recipe from your aunt, one she got from your grandmother that you’ve been told your mom loved growing up. It's something you make every fall when the air starts to get that little bit of bite to it—and you think Miguel will like it too.

The soup is saved, thankfully. You ladle the steaming hot contents into a tupperware after changing—Spider suit under your clothes, a comfortable shirt and loose jacket—package the two containers into an old tote bag with napkins and spoons and then portal to HQ.

It’s gray in Miguel’s dimension, the skies overcast and disproportionately bright: the sort of overcast that hurts your eyes more than a clear sunny day, the sun behind the clouds turning the sheet of gray into cold diffused light. Even the climate-controlled space that hosts Miguel’s Spider Society has a hint of the chill from outside—far easier to keep the building cool at this altitude than to heat it, apparently.

Soup was the right call.

You make your way through the weaving beams and paths, swinging through the open space on your webs before landing at the entrance to Miguel’s lab.

“Whatcha got in there?” Lyla pops up, eye level with yours.

“Soup.” You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on the corner of your lips.

“Sure hope you didn't spill any on your way in,” she teases, flickering from one spot to the next to remain in front of you as you walk further into the dark hall, circling a pointed finger at you. “With all that web-slinging.”

“Of course not. I used the good tupperware.”

Miguel isn't at his multi screen platform this time, but in one of the side nooks, working on something you can't see on an old-school tablet.

“Guess who's here!” Lyla pops up near Miguel’s hunched frame.

Miguel lifts his head to look at Lyla, then straightens in his seat as he turns to look at you over his shoulder, creased eyebrows relaxing into something softer, more open.

“Hi,” you say, unable to help the smile that spreads on your lips as he turns to face you more fully.

“Hello,” he says, then raises an eyebrow, nodding at the tote bag on your shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

You shrug the bag off your shoulder and walk forward to join him at the workbench. “Whatcha working on?”

He hums, turning to continue facing you as you walk closer and come to a stop next to his seat. “I see. Information for information, huh?”

You chuckle. “Soup,” you say, pulling the containers out and answering his earlier question, turning to look at him.

He’s smiling at you, still seated in his chair, and your stomach flips. An image flashes through your mind, so fast it almost unbalances you; Miguel wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a one-armed hug, leaning his head against you in a moment of pure, warm affection, and you kissing the top of his head. Nothing far from what occurs in your home, or your bed at night, but… never here.

Miguel turns to look at the soup you’ve placed on his workbench, the clear lids steamed opaque by the food inside.

“You made this?”

“Contrary to your very firm opinion, I can make food other than cereal.” You nudge his shoulder, pushing gently with your hand. “Family recipe.”

Miguel looks at you again, pushing his tablet aside. “I should get another chair in here.”

“What, just for me?”

He hums in affirmative as you take a seat on the workbench, pulling out two spoons and the napkins you packed.

Your face heats, cracking open the lid on your meal as Miguel cracks open the lid on his.

You nudge his arm with your knee. “Your turn. What are you working on?”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, lifting a spoonful of soup to his mouth. He gives a surprised hum. “This is good.”

You shake your head, smile only somewhat rueful at his avoidance of your question. “I told you I can make food other than cereal.” You look down at your own container, held in one hand as you perch on his workbench. “It’s a family recipe.”

It’s Miguel’s turn to nudge your leg with his arm. “Thank you for bringing it.”

“Of course. You’re terrible at feeding yourself at work, so…” You trail off with a teasing shrug, laughing when he nudges your leg again, this time in playful indignation, and devolving into laughter when he raises a serious eyebrow. “What!”

He places the soup down on the bench, standing up and leaning over you, saying your name in playful warning. “You didn’t even have groceries in your fridge before me.”

Your face flushes, heat zinging from your crown and your toes to meet in your stomach. The laughter bubbles to a stop in your throat as Miguel towers over your seat on the workbench surface.

You swallow. “Two things can be true at once.”

His eyes flick between yours. Everything freezes, even your breaths, and you try not to blink for fear of losing the fragile moment—whatever it might be—and then Miguel lowers his eyes, a swift downward stroke past your lips, and steps to the side to sit on the bench next to you.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “You make a fair point.”

You’re glad he doesn’t have super hearing, because your heart is thundering as you zero in on your little thing of soup to ground yourself. Miguel is equally silent for an extended moment—did he feel it too?—and when your racing pulse has slowed but the heat lingers in your face, he speaks again.

“How’s work?”

“I’m finally getting good assignments again,” you say, taking a small spoonful of your soup. “I get to go to a gala, write about all the big wigs and how much money they raise for whatever charity.”

“I’d like to read your work sometime,” he says, between his own spoonfuls. “If you don’t mind.”

You look over at him. He looks at you.

“Sure.”

Miguel smiles.

It’s easy to slip back into old routines. When you’re not working from home then you’re out as Spider, and when you’re not doing either of those things you’re wrapped up in bed and sleeping your long days away.

Miguel has to return to old routines as well, long days and nights at HQ and as the Spider-Man of his dimension. Even on the nights you don’t see him you know he visits, the bed warm when you wake up and food on the stove waiting for you.

Tonight, a week into your return, you’re out in the city once again. It’s a slow night, the air cold and crisp with the impending change of seasons. Bikers rumble past on the street below, one last ride before the weather changes too and leaves the streets too slippery, too dangerous.

You have your mask pulled up over your nose, exposing just enough to eat the hot slice of pizza bought with cash from a small spot near Hell’s Kitchen. A small thud behind you has you dropping the last few bites and pulling down your mask, spinning to face your surprise guest.

He stands there, every inch covered in deep red body armor, even his eyes hidden behind glassy red lenses that shine back a funhouse mirror reflection of yourself. The shade of red he wears is just this side of too warm to be reminiscent of blood and instead calls to mind rust and flames. Every angle of his body is tense, straight, lines culminating in two small points on the fore of his helmet-mask: the horns of the devil.

You watch as his head tilts slightly, chin tipped down as if lifting his ears.

Then you speak, uncomfortable with the silence of waiting.

“Daredevil.”

The reaction is instant, his head lifting and tilting like a dog who’s just heard an animal outside.

“Spider. Welcome back.”

You narrow your eyes under your mask, examining his changed posture: more confident, just a degree more relaxed, disarmed.

“Thank you.”

Silence falls again, the space between you interrupted by the low whistle and whoosh of a cold breeze.

“Am I on your turf?” you ask, just a shade apprehensive, joking to ease the strangeness of this encounter.

That almost earns you a chuckle, and certainly earns you a grin. “No. You’re more than welcome here.”

“Hm.” You smile under your mask, tilting your head as you drag your eyes over him. “Thank you. Cool suit.”

His grin remains, spreading wider. “Thank you.” A pause, a gesture of his hand towards you. “Yours too.”

The silence lingers again, the both of you sizing one another up in a new way.

“I should…” You point your thumb over your shoulder.

Daredevil nods.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer, shooting a web off to the taller building across the street. He gives another nod, and you're gone.

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[amugoffandoms]

i kinda wonder how the extraction ends. We know how it starts (the walls start to move around and the prisoner feels like they got knocked out or something), but how do they wake up and when? what happens to Es? Are they just watching it on a screen behind the prisoner, sorta like UNDERCOVER?

How does it end? Does it end when the machine can't take anymore or when the prisoner can't have anything else extracted from them or physically can't take it? Because then you have a canon explanation for why characters like Mahiru, Fuuta, Amane, and Mikoto all have shorter videos? Besides Mahiru, Fuuta, and Mikoto all being subjected to physical attacks, they've also been psychologically tortured by the Voices.

Or is it when the subconscious "kicks" the viewer out? Which could explain why the innocent prisoners have varying times of videos?

[audhd-nightwing]

batboys au

i don’t have an official title for this au yet so for now i’m calling it “tim and his immortal zombie brothers”

backstory

dick is taken by the court of owls after his parents die. he helps batman when bruce destroys the court, and afterwards he disappears. bruce looks but can’t find him.

dick sets base in an abandoned building and basically decides to watch over crime alley like batman does with the rest of gotham. he hunts for food (mostly bugs, rodents and birds) cuz he can’t get sick, but needs to eat a lot.

he spends most days in the library reading and learning stuff (new languages, science, history, etc). he meets jason while investigating Ma Gunn’s and they work together to take her down. jason decides to stay with dick instead of go with bruce but forces dick to get an actual apartment (he does).

jason convinces dick to train him, though he already has some experience and his own skills. dick adopts the name Robin and jason goes by Shrike. they become legit vigilantes of crime alley.

jason finds out dick is a talon a bit after he starts out as Shrike. they are in the middle of a fight and dick is fatally shot- jason loses it and almost beats the shooter to death (it’s just one guy left at this point). dick gets up and pulls jason off, hugs him, and promises to explain when they get home. afterwards, jason punches dick for not telling him until he literally had no other choice.

jason’s death

the joker escapes arkham and kidnaps jason (14) while he’s on solo patrol (they split the area to cover more ground). joker beats jason with a crowbar when dick (16) realizes he’s missing and races to find him. he arrives just in time to see the warehouse explode. dick brings jason’s body back to their apartment and then goes out and kills the joker (bruce is on a JL mission when all this happens, so he isn’t there to stop him).

jason comes back to life (superboy prime alternate dimension stuff idk), but is not fully healed and goes temporarily comatose.

dick knows about the LoA from the court and info he’s gathered over the years, and is able to contact talia. she agrees to let jason use the lazarus pit in exchange for a favor from dick, and they go meet her in nanda parbat. dick stays there with him during his recovery, so there are no drastic changes in his personality (aside from the trauma of fucking dying). they train together there for about 6 months before returning to gotham.

(his favor to talia is, later on, taking damian from her father and bringing him to bruce)

introducing tim

once they return to gotham, they appear to gain a stalker. they decide to leave the kid alone at first, but eventually get concerned because a kid really should not be out at night alone in crime alley.

dick (17) and jason (15) finally confront their stalker when they save him from getting mugged. the kid introduces himself as tim (12) and explains that he was curious about the young vigilantes in crime alley and decided to follow and photograph them. also he figured out Robin’s real name- dick grayson (who tim had theorized wasn’t dead despite the boy having been missing for years).

the boys are actually really impressed, but they try to dissuade tim from following them (which obviously fails). they then decide to teach him basic self defense and make sure he’s always within shouting distance/view of one of them while out at night.

tim, being the genius he is, figures out they aren’t fully human anymore. he doesn’t judge them for it, but he brings it up to them because he’s curious, so they explain talons and the lazarus pit.

once tim gets older they start to actually train him, and he becomes another vigilante (Magpie). also, because his parents leave him home alone for months at a time, he pretty much lives with dick and jason (but sometimes, when it’s really cold/hot or heavily raining/snowing, they all stay at drake manor instead of the apartment).

damian

a bit after dick turns 18, talia contacts him and tells him it’s time to uphold his part of their deal. leaving jason in charge of the Alley, he goes to nanda parbat, steals baby damian (he’s four), gets him to gotham and brings him to bruce.

basically, instead of adopting dick & jason, bruce just gets damian way earlier.

(p.s. dick knows bruce wayne is batman because of the Court, but jason and tim don’t know. when he explains the situation jason is like ‘how tf did bruce wayne meet talia and have a kid with her’ and dick is like ‘oh yeah, he’s batman’ and jason & tim explode)

bruce’s kids

bruce is about 30 when damian (quite literally) drops into his life. a year or two later, he finds cassandra and subsequently adopts her.

steph (spoiler, 15) has been working alongside him for about a year or so already, and babs (batgirl, 20) has been working with him for four-ish years. both forced him to let them work alongside him and he gave up trying to stop them

i have a lot more stuff but this is the basic storyline

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Sport Obsession: a Note

We all know Mulder decorates around his current obsession: an alien mug in the basement, a UFO lamp in his hallway, a painting of a galaxy in his living room--

--gargoyles he threw up on his walls in Grotesque--

--etc., etc.

It just... hadn't occurred to me how obsessed Mulder is with sports. More accurately, how obsessed he is with sports.

The man not only ingested them through a screen, not only fondly remembered them in his childhood, not only tried to take Scully to a football game (perhaps twice) and succeeded with an improv baseball game instead, but also stuffed all his old sports memorabilia into his bedroom (I theorize why in a previous post here)--

--and went the extra mile to purchase and bring home a prominent, unavoidable cueball coat hanger.

As a sidenote: although I can't definitively confirm either way, I'm pretty positive Mulder's hoarded basketball hoop was the one he dragged along into suburbia during Arcadia. A full circle, if that was indeed a remnant from his childhood (discussed in the aforementioned post.)

And if, of course, Morris Fletcher didn't toss out his stuff for good.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[fotibrit]

I'm sorry, but HOW do you post every day. I manage a different side blog that posts twice a day, but by now, they're mainly shitposts just to get content out while I stress over school. How do you come up with so many prompts???

Hi! Thank you so so much for sending an ask, and I especially love this question because I actually have an answer for it. I get to ramble about my thesis!!! The answer will be unnecessarily long and undoubtedly will go off on tangents. I’m so sorry. You’ve been warned.

The short answer is that I really like philosophy and that I post whatever comes to mind. The long answer will be below the cutoff, it is long lol

There’s a decent amount of people following my blog who do not know anything about me, so for those people, nice to meet you! Welcome to a peak behind the curtains! I go by Brit or Ae. I’ve been in fandom spaces for a little under a decade, and I’m studying to be a philosophy professor.

Seeing as I am studying philosophy, I’ve had to develop my own worldview and ideas about humanity pretty extensively. I am currently working on my thesis, writing about my theory of universal passion.

By universal passion, I mean that every person has the ability to be passionate about any given object, concept, being, you name it. Any person can be passionate about (or, have a vested interest in) any given thing, if put in the right circumstance.

By anything, I mean anything. A molecule of dust. A fallen leaf. Broken pencil lead. Any person could be emotionally attached to any matter or concept with which they come into context, however small, in the right circumstance.

Imagine a pinboard, like the detectives have in cheesy TV shows, except every single person on earth is represented by a pin on the left, and every item or concept is represented by a pin on the right. Now, we’ve got our basic strings of connection, formed by canon. Peter Parker, on the left, is connected to his Spider-Suit, on the right. Let’s imagine a string connecting Peter’s pin to the pin of his suit.

I theorize that there is also potential for string to connect Peter’s pin to, let’s say, the coffee mug in the background of one scene in AoU. And to Bucky’s left shoe. and to the railing on top of Stark Tower. It’s just up to us to figure out exactly how those strings could form, how those connections could be made.

It’s up to us to decide the circumstance that could, in theory (or in fanfic lol) tie a person to an object, even if they never come into contact.

That is my theory of universal passion. (i’m still working on wording it, obviously lol)

Now, for how that relates to my blog.

Fun fact: I have never queued a post, ever. I don’t even know how. I post in real time, mostly because I’m too lazy to learn how queueing works.

Almost all of my posts are created because I think of a concept (usually something in my vicinity) and try to think of a circumstance in which a character (lets be real, usually Peter or Tony) would be passionate about that concept. I apply my theory of universal passion, finding a way to tie string from the character to the concept.

For each thing you interact with (and everyone interacts with SOMETHING every day, even if that thing is just the floor), a new prompt can be made. All it takes is imagination, to come up with a situation in which the character would care very deeply about that item or concept.

You’ve got to imagine the string. You have to trust it is there, and find where it exists. It is there. Believe me. Every character can be connected to every item, you just have to put them in a circumstance where they care about it.

The tour guide post, about Tony occasionally becoming a tour guide when bored, was written while I was on a tour. I was curious how I could make the topic of “tour guides” relate to irondad. The post from a while ago about Peter trying to create the perfect playlist for lab nights was written while I tried to make the perfect playlist for a long car ride with friends. I just found a way to make the characters care about the topic of “playlists”. I post every day because I consider the objects/concepts I am interacting with and I come up with ways the characters would interact with them.

It sounds ridiculous, that even a single molecule of air can be of interest to someone, but how could you manipulate the circumstance to make it important? I’m planning on writing my thesis on universal passion, how every single thing in the world is worth caring very, very much for, but only if a person is put in the proper circumstances in which that thing builds off their previous experience to spark passion.

In the meantime, though, my theory is fun to write silly little irondad prompts with. If anyone has any suggestions of items/themes/concepts that you want turned into a prompt, feel free to send an ask!

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, vague implication of injury, fever

Vanessa walked into the waiting room of St. James Memorial Hospital.

She was dressed in her uniform, having just finished her security shift, watching over Vivien to keep the troublesome actress out of yet another public relations disaster, and was now heading to her first shift back working for city police.

“Melissa,” Vanessa said, coming closer to the receptionist desk, “Is Willow with a patient?”

“No, Nurse Atkinson is on, well it isn’t a break I don’t think,” Melissa, the mouse-like receptionist, responded, “She’s popular today, someone else came to see her too, come with me I’ll take you to her.”

Vanessa tilted her head, but followed Melissa back, to an empty exam room.

“Nurse Atkinson, Officer McAlister is here,” Melissa said.

“As a patient or a visit-”

“I’m just visiting,” Vanessa said, coming into the room when Willow gave the okay.

“Hey,” Willow said, smiling, “That’s a relief.”

“I’ll leave you three,” Melissa said.

Sure enough, someone was sitting on the exam bed. A guy, who looked almost like Vanessa’s beloved Willow, but with dark brown hair instead of Willow’s deep red.

“This is my idiot brother, Walker,” Willow said, “Walker, this is Vanessa.”

“A police officer?” Walker said, “And a hot one too, what’s up gorgeous.”

“Nice try, she’s a lesbian,” Willow said, finishing up the wrapping on Walker’s arm.

“Nice,” Walker said, giving a thumbs up, “Respect.”

“Walker here has a motorcycle, and is an idiot with it,” Willow said, “Is everything okay Vanessa?”

“Yes,” Vanessa said, “I’m going to work, but I wanted to stop and see you if I could.”

Willow finished up with Walker, taking off her gloves and hugging Vanessa.

“I’m so happy you took the job with the city cops,” Willow said, “I’m just happy you’re going back to it… even if its just part time.”

“Hopefully it will be better this time,” Vanessa said, “I shouldn’t stay long, but I just wanted to see you before I went in.”

“That’s so gay, dude,” Walker said.

“Yes, we established I am, in fact, a lesbian,” Vanessa said, kissing Willow’s cheek.

Vanessa tilted her head, ‘You’ve been running around a lot today? Your skin is warm.”

“It’s been busy,” Willow shrugged, “I’m going to do some studying when I get home so I should still be up when you get off, okay?”

“Okay, there’s some food in the fridge I made for you,” Vanessa said, “Don’t forget to eat again, nice to meet you Walker.”

Walker chuckled when Vanessa walked out, “Your girlfriend is hot.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Willow said, before smiling, “But… I know.”

-

When she got home, Vanessa immediately went to the couch as she came home, finding Willow pretty quickly, exactly where she thought she would find her.

Willow was laying on the couch, evidently having dozed off. There was a textbook, a notebook, and a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table, a blanket draped over her legs. He looked comfortable. With her wavy red hair down, tucked over one shoulder.

Willow was wearing one of Vanessa’s old department hoodies with her pink pajama pants. Beside her was a mug with her favorite flowers on, the mug put a smell of peppermint in the air.

Vanessa hated to wake her, really. But she found herself doing just that after she placed a gentle kiss on Willow’s cheek. Only then realizing the redness of Willow’s skin, the way Willow’s hair stuck to her face, the way Willow let out a tiny whine as she had been stirred from her sleep.

And the most sympathy triggering side effect of all, looking over Willow showed Vanessa that Willow was flushed, her eyebrows knitted together in discomfort.

As Vanessa started to theorize what exactly was up with her roommate, Willow’s stomach made an unsettling noise. The organ let out a sickly grumble, gurgling and growling in a strange sound that told Vanessa that Willow was trying to sleep to not be sick.

As Willow stirred, Vanessa gently shook her awake, trying not to disturb her too much, but Vanessa really wanted to at least try to get Willow in bed.

But despite Vanessa's cautious efforts, Willow's complexion turned paler, and with a sudden jolt, she lurched over the edge of the couch, unaware of how close Vanessa was. Liquid warmth stained Vanessa's clothes as Willow emptied her stomach.

It wasn't a torrent—Willow rarely vomited excessively unless she had waited too long. So when she sat up, disoriented, she grabbed tissues to clean Vanessa's shirt.

"Willow, sweetheart, it's alright, nothing that a simple clothing change can’t fix..." Vanessa attempted to reassure her.

But Willow's stomach revolted again, barely allowing her to contain the acid with tissues before she stood up too fast, making the room spin violently. Her vision blurred as she staggered to the kitchen sink.

She retched with nothing left, the occasional ripple in her throat causing splatters in the metal basin, thankfully washed away by the running tap. This cycle repeated—a brief moment of respite followed by another wave threatening to spill on the floor.

Vanessa knew better than to be too close to Willow while she was throwing up. Willow had always expressed deep disdain for hovering. And Vanessa, despite how much she wanted to do the exact opposite, tried her best to respect Willow’s wishes.

So, Vanessa went upstairs to change, to get a trash can near Willow’s bed and get Willow’s room ready for her to come upstairs and lay down once this spell of vomiting died down.

After a while of Willow not gagging, Vanessa came closer to her.

"Ready to lie down?" Vanessa asked after twenty minutes passed without Willow being sick. .

Willow nodded weakly, apologizing as she coughed into her sleeve.

Vanessa led her up the stairs, slowly, asking, "Did this suddenly hit you?"

"Yeah, sort of... Wasn't feeling great earlier, thought I could sleep it off," Willow murmured.

Sympathetically, Vanessa placed her hands on Willow's cheeks and forehead, noting, "Wills, you're burning up."

Confused, Willow touched her own face, emitting a soft whine as she realized Vanessa was right. She was running a fever.

“It’s flu season. And stomach bug season. And norovirus season. And… every other sickness season,” Willow sighed, sitting in bed.

Vanessa shook her head, “You’re not invincible Wills…”

“Wish I was,” Willow sighed, placing her hand on her stomach, cringing as it gurgled sickly and she felt acid in her throat, “Hand me the trash can… please. Think it’s time for another round…”

Vanessa nodded and quickly fetched the trash can, placing it within Willow's reach. She hovered nearby, concern etched on her face as Willow braced herself for another bout of nausea.

As Willow leaned over the trash can, Vanessa rubbed her back soothingly, Willow’s aversion be damned for a moment, offering comfort amidst the turbulent waves of sickness. Just as Willow did for her.

Willow's body convulsed, releasing the last remnants of bile from her queasy stomach

Willow shuddered with the force of her body's revolt, each heave draining her further. Vanessa maintained her reassuring touch, murmuring words of reassurance as Willow's breaths came in ragged intervals between retches.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Willow slumped back, utterly drained. Her chest heaved with exhausted breaths, and she wiped her mouth weakly with the back of her hand.

"Can I get you anything? Water, maybe?" Vanessa offered gently, taking the bin away from Willow, her eyes filled with worry.

Willow nodded faintly, her throat raw from the ordeal. Vanessa poured a glass of water and handed it to her, watching closely as Willow sipped cautiously.

"I hate feeling like this," Willow sighed, her voice hoarse.

"I know, it's tough," Vanessa replied, brushing a strand of hair from Willow's forehead.

Willow managed a small smile, grateful for Vanessa's unwavering support. "Thank you, Ness. I don't know what I'd do without you."

“Probably work yourself into an early grave,” Vanessa said, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Can you?” Willow asked, “I don’t feel good… and it's safer anyway…”

“No worries,” Vanessa nodded, sitting on the bed next to Willow, hugging her from the side.

Willow rested her head on Vanessa’s chest, mumbling a soft thank you to her.

“Hey,” Vanessa said, “It’s my job to protect and serve, after all.” She teased.

[thutner]

lawrence kutner as your boyfriend, part 1.

disclaimer: listed below are the writer's own personal headcanons about the character although they are very much canon in my head YUP they actually happened

GIVES THE BEST HUGS !!!!! :( you could be coming home from an exhausting day at work or simply sitting down on the couch and he'd just take you in his embrace. his hugs feel like warm mugs of coffee during winter, enveloping you in warmth so comfortable you find yourself almost melting into his arms. he would be the type to run his fingers gently through your hair, rest his chin on top of your head, and allow you to bury yourself into the crook of his neck.

he would make sure to check up on you and see if you're doing okay. kutner would notice even the smallest changes in your behavior. you're a lot quieter than usual? you bet he'll be the first to ask if you're doing okay, or if there was something you needed to talk about. “ if you don't want to talk about it now, just know that i'm here to hear you out. whenever you're ready, okay? ”

ramble about your favorite movies/tv shows with you. “ BABE, GUESS WHAT? i finally finished watching [movie/tv show name]! you know? the one you said you liked. ” you two would spend minutes, even hours, and talk about specific scenes, going so far as overanalyzing them. you would banter playfully about which character dynamics/tropes were better and you would theorize about alternate endings about open-ended storylines. on his days off, you two would (re)watch the movie/tv show, sometimes reciting the dialogues alongside the characters.

kutner would share his clothes with you. he once caught you standing in front of the mirror, wearing one of his shirts. he found it so endearing that he began to rummage through his own cabinet to look for any shirts that he doesn't use anymore so he can give them to you. he loves seeing you in his clothes because to him, it was one way in which you're flaunting that you belong to him, that you're his significant other, and no one else's.

he'd send you reminders throughout the day via text/call. as a doctor who works long hours for house, it's a given that there are nights when he wouldn't be home. still, with whatever free time that he gets on his hands, he'd be sure to send you a text message/give you a quick phone call. regardless of how busy his schedule would be, he would find ways to keep you updated so you wouldn't worry.

from: kutner

to: y/n

hey babe :D can't make it home tonight sry i will make it up to u i promise :(

from: kutner

to: y/n

i miss u already pls don't skip out on dinner ok or i will be very sad :(

from: kutner

to: y/n

i love you <3 i'll be home soon i promise :(<3

he would take you to magic shows for your dates. when you first started dating, kutner was feeling nervous whether or not you'd like magic shows. he's always liked them and he would feel so bummed out if he just screwed up his chances of being with you by sharing one of his interests. but after seeing that you shared his interest and love for magic, he'd always check up locations near your shared apartment to see if they were hosting any magic shows. sometimes, when he sees you amazed at a particular magic trick, kutner would take the initiative to learn how to do the trick itself so he could surprise you during your upcoming date/s. 99% of the time, of course, he fails. but he gets points for trying. :")