Ask Me If I'm A Horse

Smalls || Madness Combat PFP by mersei47

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

25

author, artist, problem child

making the madcom community cry since 2021

askbox is always open

feel free to infodump in there because I love hearing about other peoples' ideas

ask me if I'm a horse

Writing Requests: OPEN

other socials:

18+ alt: @whiterabbit-os

bluesky: @killin-me-smalls

ao3: @YaKillinMeSmalls

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

lil wip

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

have I mentioned that guy has paws. to me

[fidelcostco]

the human brain is so cool, if you're tired and stressed enough, your brain will go, "don't worry, I got you" and shadows will start moving

[fidelcostco]

and what's the genital situation on the shadows

[fidelcostco]

oh this is my post

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

lil wip

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

I'm the funniest thing alive by the way did you know that

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

Are you still a horse

nay

[faggotfungus]

[tieflingteef]

making every conversation into being about The Character with the same reliability and conviction of a youth pastor going “you know who else partied? our lord and savior”

[eebie]

i miss everyone

[eebie]

[sillydeimos]

krinkels being really kind about deimos

[moveslikekeithrichards]

the horrific way language evolves in a group chat

[coolxatu]

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

made bert's hat +]

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Protip you can do this with writing too

[void-botanist]

[Image description: a two-panel comic titled “My Art Evolution”. In the first panel, labeled “Past”, a beelike person frowns at a drawing of a happy sun and says “Oh no. It isn’t perfect no one can ever see this”. In the right panel, labeled “Present”, the person holds up the same drawing, and with a sly jokester expression (which includes a nose), says “He he. Who wants to see my new eye crime”. /End description.]

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

I just logged in man

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

angry lil thang. they named her Casey

tweaked the face just a lil bit but i guess i have a fan kid now

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

I just logged in man

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

May I request some Deimos angst

okay this is technically an older piece of a planned fic that won't be making the final cut, but I've been wanting to share it anyways

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

On my hands and knees begging for sick whump anything written by you (i remember that one fic where Doc found deimos outside when he was supposed to be recovering)

wrote this as a little continuation of the fic you're talking about <3

-

At some point between coming inside and getting settled on the couch, 'too warm' had quickly turned into 'absolutely freezing.' Deimos had insisted, through chattering teeth, that Doc sit with him explicitly so he could leech heat.

And Doc doesn't mind it. His laptop is balanced on the armrest at his side and Deimos's head is resting on the pillow on his lap, three blankets piled over his shivering frame that don't seem to be helping much.

"M'sorry for bein' difficult," he mumbles.

"It's alright. Wish you wouldn't have spent so much time out in the cold," Doc says as he strokes his fingers through Deimos's hair, and despite how exhausted he is, Deimos still has it in him to lean up into the touch. In an incredibly selfish way, Doc likes when he's delirious with fever. When he's sleepy and affectionate and doesn't fight everyone tooth-and-nail on what's good for him. Doesn't make the fever itself less concerning, of course, but it's almost nice. Almost.

The next few hours are spent with Deimos drifting in and out of sleep, kicking blankets off for only a couple minutes at a time before he starts shivering again and Doc pulls them back over him. He wakes fully when the fever finally breaks, drenched in sweat and just as tired as he was earlier, but his eyes are clear when he opens them.

"Morning," Doc says, ignoring the fact that it's 2:36am completely. Time isn't real.

"Hey," Deimos replies, voice rough with sleep and likely thirst. He kicks the blankets away for the final time, stretches with a strained grunt, and then curls onto his side to press his face into Doc's stomach. "S'too bright in here," he grumbles, even though the laptop is the only real source of light.

Still, Doc acquiesces him, closing the lid before setting it aside. Silence stretches between them in the dark for a minute or so, the only sound being Deimos's labored breathing. Hesitation, because he's about to ask Deimos to move, just for a moment, and he knows he's going to be a pain about it.

Doc caresses the side of his jaw first, stroking his thumb over scruffy stubble, and when Deimos willingly tilts his face into Doc's palm he gently coaxes him into sitting up a bit.

"Just checking your temp," Doc says, cupping Deimos's cheeks and then leaning down to press his lips to the man's forehead.

It isn't a kiss. Not in any meaningful sense, anyway. Deimos's skin is pleasantly warm instead of burning to the touch like it had been earlier.

Satisfied with his progress, Doc lets him lay back down, but not before scooting down to lay next to him on the couch. It's a bit awkward, most furniture isn't designed to have to full-grown men snuggling on it, but they manage, and Deimos is nothing if not eager to curl into the attention no matter how cramped.

Sleep comes easily to both of them.