#if i do prompts again remind me of this...

[akutasoda]

kiss me again for good luck

prompt - midnight kisses

including - dr ratio

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, wc - 754

a/n: req by another another lovely anon ^^ hope your having an amazing day/night as well!! -> "Hey, i wanted to send in a request for the New years Event, if thats okay! Can i request a Ratio x Reader with "midnight kisses"♡? Thanks and have a great day/night!"

[art creds @/amaichiesora]

ratio let out a sigh, a long drawn heavy one that clearly signified his annoyance. he shifted a glance to a small box displaying numbers that were periodically increasing, scowling slightly in the process.

“you agreed to go” you hummed from beside him, your eyes focused forward as the elevator slightly hummed in the background.

he scoffed in both denial and defeat. you were right and there was nothing that could be done to change his agreement - especially now you were both standing in the elevator with little time before you arrived.

it was one of the IPC's annual parties and this one was specifically designated to welcome in a new calendar year in. all branches of the IPC were invited and therefore so was the intelligentsia guild, ratio included.

you both knew very well that those events weren't really his scene but ratio had agreed to go for some reason along the lines of “showing face” and maintaining a somewhat decent relationship with coworkers. you had been dragged along by ratio who claimed he needed at least one tolerable person there.

veritas did not want to stay very long and so you both agreed it was beneficial to stay until the main event was over and everything started stemming into after parties of sort. you reminded him of such a plan in the elevator just before it stopped and the doors opened with a ding.

as expected of ratio, he insisted you stuck close by his side, something you didn't mind doing too much seeing as you barely knew anyone else there, and if it helped him then that was even more of a reason.

ratio made a quick effort of introducing himself to those that approached him, opting for small talk and small talk only. he then found himself mainly with those that he knew from before such as a specific stoneheart who seemed rather surprised to see ratio actually show up to the event.

as the party dragged on you began becoming rather weary yourself, it seemed the whole situation was taking much more out of you than you anticipated. but it seemed ratio was feeling the same. evident by the fact that he was lingering nearer to you than you were to him, looking ready to grab you and leave at any time now.

fortunately, it seemed the peak of the party was approaching. with only a couple minutes left till midnight and that meant that it was almost over and done with - much to ratio's delight.

but you had come up with an idea. you and ratio had slowly found yourselves moving away from the main body of the party, sticking to the outskirts, and so you didn't think he would mind in the slightest. you were sure that nobody would even notice.

and as the main countdown started you decided to put your idea into practice. vast majority of the others in the party were counting down but ratio couldn't care in the slightest and so he didn't mind obliging at all to listening to you call his name and focusing on you - not that he really found anything more important to focus on than you.

you smiled at him and as soon as you heard the countdown hit zero, you leaned in abruptly and gave ratio a kiss - whispering a quick “happy new year” against his lips.

you then pulled away as quickly as you leaned in before pretending that it never happened and that you were focused on the others. ratio stared at you almost shocked, he knew you were waiting to see his reaction.

he quickly shook off his surprise and soon a warm smile graced his features. ratio leant in and pressed another chaste kiss to your forehead, mummering a returned “happy new year”

he then mimicked your actions and turned to face the crowd who all were too focused on their own mini celebrations.

a beat of silence passed before he wrapped the arm closest to you around your waist, pulling you closer into him and giving you a reassuring squeeze before heading back into the crowd.

[misshoneyimhome]

This prompt screams William “seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place” 😭😭

Oh absolutely, love! That is so William 😜 Even though I feel like I’ve written this before… oh well, that won’t stop me from doing it again 🤭 I had several ideas fir this, but I was in a soft mood - so, who’s ready for some lazy, soft morning lovemaking with our boyfriend, wn88?

Tropes & warnings: William Nylander x reader, established relationship, morning sex, Smut 18+, unprotected sex (p in v - please, remember to wrap it up)

Word count: 2.1K

➼｡ﾟ

Adore me, hold me and explore me I William Nylander

The warm morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the room. You stirred under the covers, the soft sheets tangled around your naked body, and the tell-tale ache in your neck—a mix of tenderness and thrilling satisfaction—reminded you of the night before. A lazy smile curled your lips as you shifted closer to the warm, firm, naked body beside you, your fingers brushing against William’s chest. His skin felt like silk over muscle, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a comfort.

He was already awake, lounging against the pillows, the phone in his hand forgotten as his gaze settled on you. The tousled blonde strands of his hair caught the sunlight, making him look impossibly soft and radiant, though his blue eyes held a mischievous glint that hinted at anything but softness. 

“Morning,” you murmured, your voice husky with sleep. As you moved under the sheets, your body brushed fully against his, the warmth of his bare skin sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning, älskling,” he replied, his voice deep and melodic. He set his phone aside and shifted closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, trailing down your cheek to your neck, where he paused, his thumb ghosting over a particularly tender spot, and his smirk widening.

You froze slightly under his touch, the gentle pressure of his fingers that made last night’s memories flood back with vivid clarity. The way his mouth had teased and claimed you, the way his hands had roamed your body like he was memorizing every inch of it—it was all still etched into your skin, and clearly, he had noticed.

His lips quirked upward, his smirk growing wider. “Hmm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in contemplation, his thumb brushing lightly over one of the faint marks. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

You swatted his hand away, laughing softly as you tried to hide your growing blush. “Oh, stop it. You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

William chuckled, his voice deep and rich, as he shifted his weight to lean closer. “Come on. You don’t like seeing the proof?” His tone was playful, but the way his eyes darkened hinted at something much more dangerous.

Your heart raced under his gaze. “It’s not like I can exactly hide them, thanks to you,” you replied, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that made the room feel even warmer. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips grazing the marks on your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t remember how these got here?” he murmured; his breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed hard, unable to suppress the wave of heat that surged through you. Oh, you remembered. You remembered how he’d kissed you last night like he couldn’t get enough, the way his hands gripped your hips as if he were anchoring himself to you. You remembered his breathless laughter against your neck, the sound of your name rolling off his lips like it was the only thing he cared to say.

“Of course, I remember,” you whispered, your voice almost too soft to hear.

William pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own glimmering with a mix of playfulness and desire. 

“Good,” he said simply, his grin widening. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And before you could respond, his lips were on your neck again, his kisses slow and deliberate as he trailed over each mark. You felt his body shift against yours under the sheets, the weight of him pressing you back into the mattress. The heat of his skin against yours was overwhelming, and when his teeth grazed the sensitive spots, you couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

“Will…” you whispered; your voice shaky as his kisses deepened. His body pressed closer, the sheets rustling around you as his slowly growing hardness brushed against your inner thigh. The heat of him sent a rush of electricity through you, leaving you breathless. His warmth enveloped you, his touch purposeful and unrelenting as his hands roamed your skin, caressing every curve like he was rediscovering you all over again.

His lips lingered on your neck, trailing over the love marks with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. “Mmm,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and thick with desire. “I think we can make a few more of these…” 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arched into his. The sensation of him pressing against you, firm and insistent, made your pulse quicken. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as his kisses travelled to the hollow of your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot that made your breath hitch.

“Will…” you tried again, but the words dissolved into a soft moan as he shifted between your legs, forcing them apart as he aligned his length with your core under the sheets. The growing tension between you was palpable, each touch drawing you closer to the edge.

Then his lips found yours, capturing them in a kiss that was both demanding and full of reverence. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of you, the intimacy of his body against yours—the way his skin felt against yours, the weight of him pressing you deeper into the mattress—was intoxicating, moments blurring the lines between where he ended, and you began.

Your breaths mingled as his lips left yours, trailing down your jawline and back to your neck. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of your skin. His lips lingered on the marks he had left, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his hand slid from the sheets to your thigh. His touch was firm yet tender, his fingers spreading warmth wherever they roamed as they gripped your hip, anchoring you securely to him.

“Willy…” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his blue eyes searching yours for permission, for connection. The intimacy of his gaze made your breath hitch, and you reached up to cradle his face, nodding softly as a small smile graced your lips.

With painstaking care, he pressed his cock against your entrance. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of anticipation, heat, and the kind of vulnerability that only came with trust. Slowly, purposefully, he began to push inside you, his movements careful as he watched your face for every reaction.

The stretch was delicious, a perfect blend of ache and fullness that made your fingers tighten in his hair. A soft moan escaped your lips as he sank deeper, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, grounding you as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the sensation.

“This feels good?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, tinged with concern despite the heat in his eyes.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his back to pull him closer. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, your voice breathless but certain.

A soft smile played on his lips before he leaned down, kissing you deeply, his body beginning to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was measured, unhurried, as though he wanted to savour every second, every sound you made, every tremor of your body beneath his.

The friction, the heat, the sheer closeness of him—it was intoxicating. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as his movements grew more confident, more insistent. His lips never strayed far from yours, alternating between soft kisses and whispered words that made your heart race even faster.

“You’re amazing. And you’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and full of adoration. “I fucking love the way you feel… the way you let me love you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, and you arched into him, your hands clutching at his back as his rhythm quickened. The world around you faded into a blur of sensation—the sound of your breaths mingling, the way your bodies moved together, the undeniable connection that bound you in that moment.

As the tension built, your body responded instinctively to his, your nails grazing his shoulders as waves of pleasure began to crest. His name slipped from your lips in a breathless whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. His gaze locked with yours, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire, the connection between you tangible and electric.

The rhythm of his movements deepened, deliberate and unrelenting, as he felt your body tighten around him. The sensation made him groan softly, his breath hitching as his own restraint began to waver. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of you, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back, determined to keep you teetering on the edge a moment longer.

“Willy…” Your voice broke, your body arching into his as the pressure became almost unbearable. “I’m gonna—” The words dissolved into a moan, your breath stolen as the pleasure overtook you, sending a ripple of sensation through every nerve.

He felt the change, your body trembling beneath him, and the way you clenched around him pushed him dangerously close to his own release. “That’s it, come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice strained but soft, a reverence in his tone that made your heart swell even as your body was consumed by the overwhelming waves of pleasure.  

His movements faltered slightly, his own control slipping as the intensity of your release pulled him under. His head dipped, his lips finding the curve of your neck as he groaned against your skin, the sound low and guttural as his own climax surged through him. His hands left the sheets, one sliding to cradle your face while the other gripped your waist, holding you close as he poured himself into you completely.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The sunlight painted golden patterns across the room, your breaths mingling as your bodies remained entwined, hearts racing in unison. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he caught his breath.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.

Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your shared intimacy. “I know,” you teased, your voice soft and playful despite the lingering haze of satisfaction.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he pulled out of you, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to prolong every second of your closeness. He shifted, pulling you into his embrace under the sheets. His arms wrapped around you, strong and protective, his chest a solid warmth against your back. His body moulded perfectly to yours, the sheets tangling further around your legs as he nestled into you.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the warmth of his words sinking into your skin as surely as his embrace surrounded you.

You tilted your head slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Is that why you mark me?” you asked, your tone light but laced with affection.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, his voice tinged with pride. One of his hands moved, his fingers brushing gently over the fading marks on your neck. “You look perfect like this… with my marks on you. It’s like a little reminder that you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver through you, the possessive edge tempered by the tenderness in his voice. You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes locking with his. The intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world, made your breath hitch.

“I don’t think I could ever forget that I’m yours,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

He leaned into your touch, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and filled with promise. When he pulled back, his smirk returned, playful but still full of adoration. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But I think I’ll keep reminding you anyway.”

You laughed softly; the sound muffled as you buried your face in his chest. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. The warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the weight of his love wrapped around you like a cocoon.

And as the morning sunlight continued to filter into the room, you found yourself perfectly content, safe and cherished in the arms of the man who had left his mark on your heart as much as your skin.

[raphsmuneca]

Smooches

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ 💋 ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

⚠️18+ • soft smut • inappropriate behavior • dirty lingo • short-shorts • Tmnt bayverse⚠️ Tmnt Bay Leo x reader (aged 30+) <- my preference 🫶🏼

@thelaundrybitch this quickie is for you 😉 😎 😜

💖A pre-valentine treat 💖

You’ve been teasing him for far too long. Is he afraid? Fuck no. If you thought so then you were sorely mistaken. He’s not the prude you believe him to be. He’s a gentleman, that’s all. NOT! He may have been the respectable soldier, but beneath the surface, he was every bit a man.

He decided it was time to put an end to your facade. It was shortly after you waved your goodbyes. You navigated through the tunnels for a whole of two minutes then you felt a sudden tug.

He swiftly pulled you in, spun you around and pinned you, face first, against the stone cold wall. He covered your mouth with one large left hand before you yelped. Your face was turned to the right of you where he met you, snout to nose. His labored breathing and tense muscles were obvious indicators that he was rapidly reconsidering his impulsive action. You felt his warm plastron through the thin fabric against your back.

You were freaking out, but held your composure. You’ve been aching for his nearness for a long time, but you never expected this! Did he think you a traitor? You had to let him know you were very much his friend and would never do anything to jeopardize…wait. What’s this? His cock (which was the length and width of your forearm) pressed against your buttocks. Your mind experienced a nuclear explosion. It suddenly became empty. Your ghost sought refuge in the high heavens. What in the holy fuck is going on right now?!

His hands were tracing a path up and down your thighs, extending to the contours of your hips and the indentation of your exposed navel. You let out a whimper. His touch generated a burning sensation on your skin, wherever he touched, you felt yourself sinking deeper.

“You thought you had me all figured out, huh?” He nuzzled against your nose and face. “Mmm…What if I tell you I wish to steal a kiss from you?” He released his left hand so that you may speak. You would have replied, except that you were momentarily breathless and feared you’d collapse right then. Instead, you licked your lips.

Your thoughts vanished the instant he bit your lower lip. The way your pussy pulsed just then. Ohmygahh. Fksksjdbsyhsbs!!!! The sensation of the thick annuli encircling his scutes against the small of your back was a potent reminder of how real the moment was. He took another bite. And another. He then proceeded to leave trails of saliva up and down your neck, eventually taking advantage of your open mouth to thrust his tongue deep into your throat. His lips enveloped yours, tongues rhythmically entwining in a fervent quest.

He stopped and pivoted you to face him. The massive terrapin rose high above you. You felt unusually tiny all of a sudden. He gently lifted your chin upward with the tip of his index finger. You became captivated by the depth of his sapphire eyes. You could easily become lost in their beauty. What a fantastical creature. Your knees weakened and you began to lose balance, but he quickly caught you and positioned you over his massive frame. You let out a huff once you settled into place, straddling him.

He lowered his head and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your burning cheeks. “Open your mouth for me again.” (Yes daddy!) In comparison his mouth and tongue were wide, yet he managed to work around your smaller mouth to artfully deliver delectable kisses. The moment was raw, your womanhood was ablaze, but his broad arms kept you in place. The feel of his rugged skin against your smooth one was bewitching.

To have Leo all over you like this was enthralling. What prompted his shift from a stern, inflexible leader to this ravenous turtle man? Regardless of the answer, the less you were concerned as he tenderly kissed your mouth and down your neck and slightly into the hollow of your bosom and back up again. Your hips began a slow, rhythmic motion. You hadn’t acknowledged it until he cupped your waist in his hold and brought you nearer, allowing you to feel his firmness against your inner thighs. Breaking away from his fervent kiss, a hasty "Oh!" escaped your mouth. You hid your face in his chest, attempting to mask your embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy, baby. You know you like it.”

At that you punched him in the chest.

“That tickles you know?”

His chuckle was soft, but you were too proud and feigned annoyance.

He too was skilled in this game. His smile disappeared. He looked even hungrier than before. His stare grew more intense. His mouth started to water. He licked his lips and launched a more ferocious attack on your mouth this time. This kiss was distinct. It possessed greater passion. Something you said or did must have triggered him. This kiss wasn't driven by lust like the previous one. It was more profound. It was ardent and all-consuming.

You were once again enveloped in his affectionate grasp. Your hips began to sway at a more rapid pace. In a short time, your body was seized by a powerful physical response, induced by the erotic pleasure of the intimate bodily contact. He knew what he was doing. He was aware of his actions. He took pleasure in witnessing your vulnerability around him. It turned him on when you challenged him, but he needed to set the record straight.

“Next time you tease me, just know I’ll be waiting for you.”

OMFG! You got gotten!

With a wink, he left you in your disheveled state, mouth agape.

“Damn you, Leo.”

A residual string of words escaped his mouth before he vanished quickly.

“Tonight I stole a kiss. Tomorrow I steal your heart.”

You looked in the direction from which the reverberated words echoed. There was no discernible shape, only whispers. You were uncertain whether to be grateful for the intense heat you both shared, however brief, or shocked by this new revelation. Was he in love with you?

“You’ve already done that…”

You spoke the words, aware that there was no one nearby to hear them. Leo had already departed. He was that quick. You collected your thoughts and smoothed your hair with your fingers. Following a brief moment to compose yourself, you turned and headed back towards your home.

Except you were mistaken. He was present throughout, observing from the shadows. His heartbeat was irregular. Your words left him astonished. He was satisfied with himself. He had claimed you as his own from the beginning, even if you didn't reciprocate his emotions. The act of stealing your kiss was merely his attempt to confirm whether his suspicions were correct and that you shared his feelings.

He promptly returned to his quarters. He hadn’t quite finished his task when he released you. He engaged in self-pleasuring in your name. In the aftermath of said sweet release, he reflected on his next move.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ 💋 ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

@the-cauldron-witch @ninnosaurus @iridescentflamingo @ferox-imagines @sophiacloud28 @milykins @adebauchedsloth @justalotoffanfiction @thepinkpanther83 @dilucsflame33 @foxflamewarrior @m1dnyt3-w0lf @eveandtheturtles @inspiredwriter @replicasey @akari180 @iheartchv @leosgirl82 @fyreball66 @moonlightflower21 @happymoonangel @imthegreenfairy86

・𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭/𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓶𝓴! ・

𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!

[farfromstrange]

Pink Eye | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: You start the new year with a bad case of conjunctivitis and a cold. As annoyed as you are about it, fortunately for you, you have a very doting boyfriend to take care of you.

Warnings: Cursing, sickness, fluff.

WC: 1.2k

A/n: This is totally self-indulgent, and my first fic after a month (or so)! Don't worry, you're still getting those other Fictober prompts, this is just something that came to my mind yesterday and I had to write it. I wish I had a Matt Murdock to take care of me, so I wrote this. I hope I'm not too rusty.

Read Me On AO3!

The cold compress seeps into the swollen skin of your eyelids, though it offers only a small reprieve from the ache and itchiness that make you want to claw your eyes out like a feral cat under attack.

Tissues lay strewn around the coffee table, each one soaked in tears and whatever else came out when you wiped them dry. The apartment reminds you more of the set of a bad chick-flick rather than a home. Most of the time it resembles a crime scene or a poorly supplied hospital when your risk-friendly boyfriend decides he just has to get himself into another fight for the greater good, but this New Year’s, the only casualty that came out of the holidays is you—defeated by your own immune system. 

You haven’t been properly sick in a year. For 366 days, you’ve been free of any viral or bacterial infections, and the one time you decide to have dinner with your family you end up with a nasty infection: conjunctivitis. Yes, you started the new year with fucking pink eye and a cold, and now you’re stuck at home for your last few days off work, feeling miserably sorry for yourself.

“Here,” Matt appears in your one functioning line of sight with a bowl of soup in hand, “You need to eat something.”

“Thank you,” you say through a congested nose, and he can’t help but smile at how adorable that sounds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I want to put a finger into my eye and scratch it out.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, not good?”

You shake your head. “I’m annoyed. And in pain. And I can’t fucking breathe!” As if to underline your frustration, your lungs constrict and you cough up a not-so-delicious ball of phlegm. 

Matt’s hand instantly moves to your back, rubbing gentle circles until the oxygen returns to where it needs to be. Your breathing becomes rapid before it slows down again, and you swallow.

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

“When you’re feeling better,” he retorts almost cheekily, but the joke doesn’t get much of a response. He knows how miserable you are. He can hear it in the way you breathe, your elevated heartbeat, and the pulsing of the skin around the infected eye. You wear your discomfort on your very sleeves. He doesn’t want to imagine what it feels like for you.

Instead of joking any more, Matt gently removes the compress from your eye. “Let me get you a new one,” he offers. Your first instinct is to cover up. It baffles him; you haven’t hidden from him in a very long time.

Matt takes your hand and places it back down in your lap, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Don’t do that.” 

“I look like I got into a fight,” you say.

At that, he reaches out, fingers gently brushing just above your brow, down your temple, and over the apple of your cheek. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin, the inflammation that’s causing your eye to swell, but the picture his fingertips paint is a stark contrast to your own description. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. And Matt knows better than anyone what one might look like after a fight.

His touch is so gentle, far away from where you’re hurting but close enough to feel his need to fix you. To heal you. To take your pain away and make it his own just so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Your heart flutters like a newborn butterfly. You look into his hazel eyes, how soft they are, and it makes you melt. If you could only see yourself the way he sees you... The way he loves you seems like a gift from God himself. 

His touch disappears, and you bite back a pathetic whimper. “Be right back,” he says.

You watch as he rises to his feet and heads back to the kitchen, grabbing another cool compress from the fridge before returning to your side.

“There you go.” He places it against your eye and holds it there. “So you can eat.”

You want to say, ‘You’re doing too much’, but then you realize that you’re with the kind of man who would shoulder the world for you even when he’s already drowning to make sure life is just a little easier for you. And while that feels like entirely too much, more than you deserve, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. Not that he would do so, anyway. 

Every bone in your body aches, but the pain blurs in comparison to what he makes you feel. 

You take the bowl of soup he prepared and dig in. It’s your favorite, yet scarcely seasoned to not irritate your throat any further. When your stomach is finally full and he’s satisfied, he reaches for the bottle of eyedrops standing tall amongst the graveyard of tissues. He knows to think about everything when you can’t. 

“Lean back,” he instructs softly. 

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you protest. 

“I won’t. I know you hate doing this yourself. Now lean back.”

He’s even more stubborn when you’re sick, but only because you’re stubborn, too. You don’t protest further, simply leaning your head back to give him better access. 

Matt gently searches for your lower lid with his fingers, pulling it back ever so gently before squeezing the first drop in. Then, he moves on to the second eye. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut at the sudden intrusion. It burns. Will it ever stop, you wonder? 

“I’m sorry,” he wipes away any excess tears threatening to escape, “it’ll get better in a second.” 

You huff a breath of disapproval, but not at his words. “I’m never visiting my family again unless they give me a detailed list of who’s sick,” you say. 

Matt stutters for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious! Small children are little Petri dishes, carrying viruses and bacteria that continue to mutate into God knows what. Petri dishes, Matthew!” 

You sound so beside yourself, he can’t help himself. He adds the used tissue to the coffee table pile and pulls you into his arms, his laugh rumbling against the top of your head as he presses his lips against your heated scalp. “This is New York, sweetheart,” he says, “the entire city is a Petri dish.”

“And I will avoid it like the plague if I have to.”

He chuckles. “Okay.” A pause, and then, “You’re so much moodier when you’re sick.”

If you had the strength you would smack his pretty face for that statement alone, but you really, really don’t. You can barely sit up on your own. So, you nudge him with your elbow and grumble, “Shut up.”

With a bright smile on his face, he gives you another squeeze. “I love you too,” he says.

You squeeze his bicep three times to assure him that yes, you do love him, and you can’t help but think that perhaps being coddled in Matt Murdock’s arms while recovering from a little infection isn’t so bad, after all. It certainly could be worse. 

fluff tag list: @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler @mochie-is-a-librarian

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

happy DADWC Friday :) sending you “You were always on my mind.” for Fenhawke

Ty for the prompt!! I've been thinking about Fenhawke post DAV, and I think I'll put a little series of snippets from my thoughts into some Fenhawke prompts on Tumblr for @dadrunkwriting! This will be #1, and I'll link the rest (so feel free to send more Fenhawke prompts, folks!) Under a cut, because Veilguard spoilers. Vague, but still there.

Night had given way to the sharp edge of a winter dawn while Fenris sat in the chair beside the frost-painted window. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, but he hadn’t slept even a moment of the long, dark night. He could feel the circles under his eyes, the skin heavy, his vision blurry with exhaustion. Even as he blinked and scrubbed his face with a hand trembling from the abundance of coffee he’d consumed, the reason for his vigil stirred in the bed several feet away. Something unknotted in Fenris’s chest as Hawke stretched his arms over his head, curled one around the pillow that should have been Fenris’s, and pulled it closer. He buried his face in it, shoulders shifting with the inhalation of breath. Just as quickly, he saw those same muscles tense, stiffen, and then the pillow was shoved aside. Hawke shot up in bed, the blankets pooling at his waist, exposing so many scars across his torso. Some Fenris remembered. Others he thought were new, but he wasn’t ready to ask. Their eyes met and it was like Hawke had taken a punch to the gut; the air rushed out of his lungs and his shoulders slumped. A look of chagrin replaced the naked fear on his handsome face and he tried to fit a smile onto his lips. “You’re still here,” he said, taking another deep breath. He’d said the same thing the morning before, and the one prior to that. “Still here,” Fenris promised again, finally rising from his chair, stiff muscles protesting. He crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge, and they looked at one another. It still felt like a dream. It had been ten years since Fenris had received that letter in Kirkwall, since he’d burned Varric’s story into his mind. Hawke, the man he loved, left in the Fade. Left behind in the one place Fenris could not reach him. And then the Blight had come, and the world had been poisoned, and the Veil ripped asunder. He’d read another tale in a letter from the Inquisitor, about another death, and another prison in the Fade, and the woman who'd freed herself from it. The Inquisitor had borne a bone-deep regret for Hawke’s loss that may not have rivaled Fenris’s, but it drove them both to the same end; into the Fade, into Nightmare’s prison. Hawke reached out for him with one hand and Fenris took it, sighing with relief when he felt the mortal warmth enclose his fingers. The tightness in Hawke’s features smoothed as well at the contact. “Ten years,” Hawke murmured, blue-gray eyes searching his face. “It seemed like…days. Weeks maybe. In there. And yet after all this time, you remembered me.” Fenris squeezed his fingers. “You were always on my mind,” he promised, feeling an answering weight in his chest. “Every day.” Hawke nodded, eyes flicking to the window. The look on his face reminded Fenris of how he’d felt just after escaping Danarius—free but unsure what to do with it, unsure if it would last. It was why panic flooded Hawke when he woke, until they touched, and why Fenris couldn’t sleep. A need to make sure it was all still real.

[llondonfog]

This is such a weird, RANDOM, and long ask (more like a rant tbh), but I wanted to say something because I can't get it out of my head.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER.

Before you boo me, I COULDN'T HELP IT. I just, can't get it out of my brain.

Like, Lilia just wakes up one day, sees this mini horror in Silver's bedroom, and freaks out before realizing that IS Silver.

Everything he knew about Silver's parents is a lie.

Then, Silver transforms back, but part way, so he has these cute little wings with soft, white feathers, and Lilia just MELTS.

He's freaked out, amazed, confused, but he wants to comfort Silver, who is both confused and possibly in pain from the transformation. Growing wings seems painful.

Like, he had 6 wings (3 sets of 2) in the horror-fest form that is a Biblically Accurate Angel (I both encourage and warn you against searching that up lol), and now he has 2-4 wings (possibly with the feathers attached to his head as Seraphim Angels have. I think). Compared to his default human body, that's a big difference, right?

Anyway, I wanted to share this with someone. You don't have to do anything with this, or even respond, but THE IMAGE. I love Silver and he's already angelic, so might as well add a Horrifying version of that, AND pretty wings in the more "normal" version. I just can't write or draw my vision LMAO so I have to cope with sharing it instead.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER IM IN LOVE????

BABY SILVER WITH BABY ANGEL WINGS!!! oh they are so soft and fluffy, like dreams and clouds and silk all at once!! the imagery of him draping them over lilia while they nap or simply shielding him from the sun with one as he gets older....my heart!!!

And then considering the imagery of extremely pissed off biblically accurate silver protecting his loved ones against any who would seek to bring them harm!!! Absolutely terrifying to behold!! I don't know why I'm partial to the specific one of the large eye surrounded by countless wings but that's what I think of!! All those wings to sweep up and protect his loved ones, and more to deal out powerful blows of damage, with one dizzying aurora-hued eye that can seem like the most gentle gaze that allows you to simply bask in unconditional acceptance or the most horrific choking sense of inevitable judgement for what you've done against the word of good.

FANTASTIC CONCEPT I WISH I COULD DRAW IT

on the other hand, the thought of lilia being in such awe and wonder of his child, this pure and innocent being who has been granted to him, who loves him unconditionally and uses his powers to make lilia's life kinder and easier as silver tries to take away the aches and pains and nightmares... I could see it verging into a cult of two territory; lilia being very protective and possessive of his son, the thought of throwing himself into service to protect the boy?angel?savior? at any and all costs, to be his knight in shining armor to keep him safe and unsullied from the world. silver becoming like this odd forest deity creature who pours his magic so willingly into the woods and gives freely to those that need his kindness, and his father is only too happy to kneel to him, renewed in his purpose to serve his benevolent, angelic son...

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[runefactorynonsense]

Cozytober - Day 13 - Apple Pie

How... How does that even work? Don't question it.

[kindlyrot]

I drew them from memory at 4AM. I could hear the birds chirping.

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Slaughterhouse Rock. It depicts the character Alex Gardener floating in the air, wrapped up in his sheets. His head falls back and his arms hang limp. This drawing of his figure is repeated four times: one in blue slightly below the first, one in a light green further down and slightly more left, and finally one in a pinkish red a bit down and to the right of the previous one. There's a vague pink outline around the first one. The figures have a light blue outline around them, making them standout against the darker blue background. At the bottom of the piece, a beam of bright light begins. It gets slightly wider as it progress upwards towards the original figure, which is where it stops. Some faded sparkles surround it.]

Inktober - Day 1 (Dream)

Movie - Slaughterhouse Rock (Dimitri Logothesis, 1988)

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im back on my bs today i have GOTTA start picking prompts at the start of the day again i had to speedrun one last night bc i . forgot.

[swamp-world]

like i think that we really really really need to actually gain the social literacy and compassion to understand that. not tipping your server isn’t praxis, but the fact that it’s expected that the customer pay the wage of the server also doesn’t mean that the customer (often also stiffed and a victim of wage theft) isn’t obligated to do so, and that while this is within our own economic system a great injustice and act of violence that needs to be rectified, it is in fact not the greatest injustice in the world and seeing people comparing getting screamed at for war crimes to not being tipped demonstrates a drastic lack of any sense of proportion. this is me speaking as both a service worker and someone engaged in organizing. let me be absolutely clear that I am not saying that not tipping your server is praxis. if you are able to tip i think that you should. i also think that “it’s the social contract in america to tip your server” needs to be read as “the structure has been built so that resisting it is tantamount to being a class traitor, and there are no winners in this situation”. i make less than 1k a month. tipping at 15% is straight up not viable all of the time if i want to pay rent. that’s not praxis, that’s me trying to keep a roof over my head, same as the service worker who i can’t always tip. so much analysis of this matter on social media tends to boil down to brute utilitarianism that causes further fragementation among the working class, and not for unjust reasons.

but just as not tipping my server isn’t praxis, tipping my server also isn’t praxis. not because it doesn’t help the individual (it does) but because it functionally validates the extant system in which the customer directly pays the wages. especially in the digital age: whereas cash tips are often considered nontaxable income, digital tips are administered as directly taxable income by the employer. when tips are paid out as wages i think it’s a little unfair to consider them to be “gratuities”.

again: not tipping isn’t praxis, but i wonder often about how many people who parrot this point are engaged in labour organizing or support in any way other than tipping. everyone deserves to be paid for their labour. but likewise, putting the onus on the working class customer to do so doesn’t actually help anyone except for the employer.

if you’re getting pissed at other working-class people for not tipping high numbers, especially impoverished and/or marginalized people, i hope that you are also engaged in literally any form at all, no matter how intense or dedicated, to any kind of action or organization that supports increasing minimum wage and shifting this responsibility from the customer to the employer (i.e. working class to owning class).

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 106

Adjective: Ghostly

Nouns: Kingdom

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Ghostly: of or like a ghost in appearance or sound, or eerie and unnatural

Kingdom: a country, state, or territory ruled by a king or queen; a realm associated with or regarded as being under the control of a particular person or thing; the spiritual reign or authority of God; the rule of God or Christ in a future age; heaven as the abode of God and of the faithful after death; each of the three traditional divisions (animal, vegetable, and mineral) in which natural objects have conventionally been classified; (biology) the highest category in taxonomic classification

[swampdrive]

Being actively befriended by someone after a long time of constantly being the one to put too much effort into friendships and feeling like everything is one sided and im disposable is fucking WILD MAN!

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~