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Spring washers, also known as disc springs, are a type of mechanical fastener that are designed to provide a cushioning effect and maintain tension in a bolted joint. They are made up of a circular disc with a small gap in the middle, which allows it to compress and expand when placed between two surfaces.
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anders-hawke · 4 months
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colin 🤝 anthony: making an heir in s3
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vivaislenska · 6 months
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WE KNEW IT. WE CAN REST NOW.
(practicing anatomy and eyebrows with this lovely, brave, squeaky, wisecracker)
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makiitoh · 6 months
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pastaxandria · 8 days
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The Red Thread: Chapter 162
🔥
The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its archives: Chapter 162 of The Red Thread.
Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Chapter Summary:
“It really did bother you, didn’t it? What I said to her.” Her brows rose curiously, the cool fascination of a cat watching the movements of a fluttering bird. “And here I was wondering if it was just a bit of show for her.” “You know it wasn’t!” he snapped. “I get that you may not understand this since everything’s a game to you and we’re all just here for your amusement, but hurting the people we love is generally something most of us try to avoid.” “You think that lowly of me, Matthew?” Her gaze skittered away from him, her fingers beginning to fidget, just a little, with the blanket on the couch. Trying to draw him in, make him feel for her, he suspected. “That I would hurt someone I—” “You hurt me.” Or: in which an old hurt is discussed
Wordcount: 8.2k
Warnings for this chapter: blood, injury care, some NSFW smutty content (grinding, nudity, a hint of fingering)
Read me on AO3 where the penguins are
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employee052 · 4 months
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[Road Trip Thread p1]
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The whole gang is here!!! >:DDDDDD (my laptop crashed as i tried to render and share this on discord ;-; ksjdfh)
[OG Thread post for context]
[For a non blurred version of this, as well as little snippets of conversation i came up with while drawing, check under the cut!]
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Narrator and Oz: "Alright, i got the itinerary ready to send for the 27th." "Hmm... An aquarium? What aquarium are we going to?" "I found the biggest, most coolest one that's on the road map!" "How could we even afford to bring everyone here?" "The swimming pools, duh. Turns out they cost a good thousand dollars so.... why not go all out?"
Stanley and Lynne: "WOOO! ROAD TRIP~" "Lynne, I appreciate your excitement but please can you get off the luggage I can't pull the both of you to the bus."
Timekeeper, just on his own: "Heh. Suns out.... Suns out, the sun sure is out. I don't understand that phrase."
Mariella and Curator: "Hey curator, I got a little surprise for you! I know this is the first event outside of the parable for most of us, so to celebrate I got us some flowers!"
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stclements · 11 months
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kit-williams · 4 months
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Plague Soup for the Soul
Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle
Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog
@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy
@plegg
Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses
Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many
tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT
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Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.
Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"
Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.
Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"
"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...
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The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.
"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.
"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.
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Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.
You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."
"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.
"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.
"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.
"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."
Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.
"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.
The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."
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You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.
He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."
You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.
"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"
You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.
But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."
You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.
Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.
You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.
You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.
Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.
"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.
"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.
"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.
Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."
You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.
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You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.
"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.
"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.
You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.
"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.
"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.
"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.
Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"
"Five years my lord."
"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"
"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.
"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.
As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.
Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.
The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.
His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!
You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.
You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.
Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.
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LEWA from BIONICLE
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JUSTIFICATION:
"Okay, she has canonically been mind-controlled FOUR TIMES! All as a result of her own actions! Twice, that's a weird coincidence already, but FOUR? It's like she's disassociating so hard that she'll take literally any other identity but her own. That's how I felt as an egg, at least (though luckily never had the chance to get mind controlled). Plus I think her teasing and needling the other Toa shows conflicted desires to be accepted and to push others away, all borne of self-hatred (again, relatable to my pre-transition self). Oh yeah, and her humanized/feminized version by @rrbobani is perfection." - @a-thread-of-green
Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!
Did you make your daily click today?
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faunandfloraas · 22 days
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"Thread of tweets I hope skz have seen" << literally 20 unfunny tweets I hope they never have the displeasure of seeing
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compression spring manufacturers
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Khodiyarspring is one of the leading compression spring manufacturers in the industry. They specialize in providing a wide range of high-quality springs, such as torsion springs, spring washers, and circlips. Their products are manufactured using advanced technologies and processes to ensure the highest level of quality. With their experience and expertise in this field, they can help customers find the right solution for their needs. They offer a variety of customization options to meet customer requirements and provide excellent customer service. Khodiyarspring is committed to providing its customers with reliable and cost-effective solutions for their compression spring needs.
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sophiethewitch1 · 5 months
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I just finished catching up to what we want
And like
That scene with Dick finding reader
(Them? Us?) In his room Absolutely
mortifying idk how she felt comfortable
enough to ask him for help after that.
I am curious to see what he thinks of it
all though 👀
She still called him through a mix of desperation, still there idol worship, general erratic unpredictable behaviour, and a subconscious wariness towards Tim who was really the only other option lmao. Also Dick immediately assumes this is all a very strange trauma response which like... He's right. That is what it is.
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electric-lights · 1 year
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(un)welcome visitors
Rafael Barba x gn!reader
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"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."
He purses his lips in a humorless smile, leaning against the wooden sideboard and tapping his fingers impatiently as the machine heats up. "Carmen's out sick," he explains, his voice clipped. "The coffee stand's closed, and even I can't make myself drink the courthouse sludge."
Rafael may be using you for your coffee maker, but when a personal issue arises he offers some unexpected support.
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tags: established friendship, fluff, mutual pining, hint of family angst on the reader's side, gender neutral reader, no y/n, no reader physical description
word count: 1400
note: it's only vaguely alluded to but reader is a law librarian at the county law library, which happens to be located right across from 1 hogan :) essentially you research, gather, and analyze legal materials for the public, courts, and recently a certain ADA
read on ao3 here
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You lean back in your office chair with an amused grin. "Nice to see you too, Barba."
The man currently beelining it to your office's single cup coffee machine doesn't have the good grace to look chagrined. Rafael shoves his thermos underneath the spout, drops a pod in the machine, and slams the lid without even looking at you. "Yes, hello, you look good, how've you been," he rattles out dryly.
"You talking to me or the Keurig?"
The withering look he shoots you is mostly without teeth. It's not enough to deter you.
"I didn't know every coffee maker between here and the DA's office mysteriously combusted."
He purses his lips in a humorless smile, leaning against the wooden sideboard and tapping his fingers impatiently as the machine heats up. "Carmen's out sick," he explains, his voice clipped. "The coffee stand's closed, and even I can't make myself drink the courthouse sludge."
You raise your eyebrows.
He glances over, then does such an utterly offended double take that you have to turn your surprised snort into a cough. "That was under duress," he warns, raising a finger in your direction.
You can't help it.
"I come to you in my time of need and you mock me," he deadpans as you laugh.
"Right, except I was your third choice."
He opens his mouth to deliver what promises to be a scathing retort, but the machine chooses that moment to finally hiss to life and the aroma of vanilla beans starts to fill the office. Rafael sighs, and some of the bristling tension seeps out of his shoulders. You decide he's probably suffered enough.
"Look, not that I don't appreciate the visit," you lean forward on your elbows against the desk, "but have you ever thought about just buying one for yourself?"
You knew he rarely used the old drip maker collecting dust in his office, preferring to buy it fresh - or, when he's particularly desperate and can't get away, send Carmen out with his card. In fact, you weren't even sure the damn thing worked until you'd found half of SVU camped out in his office late one night, going over the details of a difficult case with the carafe passed around the table. But surely, when caffeine-withdrawal was at stake...
"Then people would ask to use it." Rafael's nose wrinkles at the thought as he watches the thermos fill.
The stunning lack of self-awareness doesn't seem to register.
"Hmm," you hum, "says the man raiding my coffee stash." He blinks, pausing as he screws the thermos lid on. "The man with his own snack budget at the 16th."
He rolls his eyes. "They should consider it payment for goods and services." He says it with no small amount of smarm, but as he turns towards the loveseat you managed to cram into the corner of your small office, you watch him cradle the warm thermos in his hands like a prized possession.
"Speaking of," you say slowly, reaching down into the bottom drawer of your desk and tossing the contents to him. "Here."
He deftly catches the bag, and you feel inordinately pleased when you see his eyes light up at the chicago-style popcorn. "What's this for?"
Because you see how hard he works. Because you like that your office has become a place he frequents. Because you want him to stay a little while longer.
Because you're starting to like him more than the professional bounds of your positions, even the personal warmth of your friendship, and a small, foolish part of you can't help but hope he might feel the same way.
You clear your throat a little, shifting under the way his observant gaze turns thoughtful at your silence. "Let's just say Sergeant Benson isn't the only one with a snack budget."
He huffs a laugh, murmurs his thanks, and just like that any moment you imagined is gone.
With warm drink and food in hand, he finally collapses into the old, worn loveseat. He settles, sinking into the cushions and letting his eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back with a sigh, the long line of his neck and hint of scruff bared above his slightly loosened tie. You give him a moment, quietly shuffling some papers around, trying not to think about the warmth in your chest at seeing him so comfortable in your own space.
It isn't until he sits back up, taking a sip from his thermos with a pleased hum, that you speak, your voice quiet. "So how are you Raf, really?"
"Tired." He breaks open the popcorn. "Sick of fighting off motions for this case. You?"
You grimace, thinking about the pile of work growing in your inbox. "About the same."
"Well aren't we a pair." He gives a little crooked smile as he says it, and you try not to look too pleased with his choice of words.
You settle into quiet conversation - about his mother (she's doing well, and he talks about her work at the charter school with no small amount of pride), about the latest inter-office gossip (there's at least two affairs going on but he only complains about O'Dwyer's latest promotional pet project), about the request his office sent over yesterday (you're already working on the case analyses).
He's just explaining what details he'd like you to look out for when there's a light rap at your door.
Rafael pauses. You unconsciously straighten in your seat before you call out. "Yes?"
The door creaks open and one of the front desk assistants steps just inside the threshold. "I'm sorry to interrupt." She looks between you and Rafael, then turns back to you. "But your father is here to see you."
You blink.
"That can't be right," you frown. "My parents don't even live in the city."
She glances again at Rafael - who's watching you intently over his thermos - before she turns back to you with a strained smile. "Just passing along what he said," she says, her voice apologetic.
"Did he give a name?"
When she says it you sigh, cursing internally. "Alright, I'll... I'll be down in a minute. Thank you."
And with that, she nods at you both and closes the door behind her. In the ensuing silence, the easy, friendly air from before seems to have been sucked out of the room after her.
"Should I go?"
"No." Your reply is fast enough that Rafael'e eyebrows raise in surprise. "No, I'll just see what he wants and send him home. He shouldn't even be - I can't believe he's - fuck." You trail off into a groan of frustration, burying your head in your hands.
"One of those, huh," he says softly. It's not spoken as a question.
"Yeah," you mutter into your hands.
"Want me to scare him off?"
You know he's just trying to lighten the mood but your heart still jumps when you look up at him, foolish and half hope. "Would you?"
It slips out before you can stop it but you can't regret asking, not when he holds your gaze with a kind of warmth and sincerity he usually can't afford to show.
"For you?" he murmurs, "Of course."
You're proud that your next breath comes out relatively steady.
"Thank you," you say softly. "But you really don't need to get in the middle of my family drama."
His lips twitch into a wry, crooked smile. "I'm paid to get in the middle of family drama all the time. Yours is no trouble, trust me."
Your chest shakes with a laugh despite yourself, and his smile softens, his eyes crinkling. In the light of the setting sun from your window, it makes him look younger. Lighter.
It looks good on him.
"At least let me walk you down."
He never was one to give up on a tough case. If you're honest with yourself, you never want him to stop.
"Alright, alright," you cede with a small smile. "It's a deal, counselor."
Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Rafael pushes up from the loveseat, thermos in hand. He takes his overcoat from the rack by the door and holds out your own, and your elbows brush as he steps out of your office behind you.
As the two of you walk down the hallway towards the elevator and whatever unpleasant surprise awaits you in the lobby, you realize that somehow - with Rafael beside you - you don't dread it.
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pastafossa · 2 years
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A Brief Existential Crisis (Matt Murdock x f!Reader; Fic)
Because this fluffy idea wouldn’t let me go so now you all get a drabble. Set in TRT!Verse but not required reading. SFW. Minor spoilers for ep 8 of She Hulk!
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"She didn't know who I was," Matt said mournfully, staring blindly up at you.
"I'm sorry," you said, radiating as much sympathy as you could while also still kinda distracted by the Los Angeles weather report on the hotel tv. How was 68 degrees considered freezing?
"No one else recognized me either," he mumbled, his chest heaving on a great sigh. "All night. One guy even called me a gold ninja devil."
"Ridiculous," you agreed as he slowly edged his head further into your lap. You forced down your grin, which was especially difficult when his expression was so pitiful, not unlike that of a kitten caught in the rain. "Yes? What is it, beloved husband of mine?"
"You know what I want." He made a sad little noise, arching further into your lap until his head bumped your opposite hand where you'd settled it on your thigh. "Please, sweetheart. I need the dopamine after everything that happened."
You snorted and gave in, running your fingers fondly through his dark hair. You even made sure to scratch with your nails just for the way it made him purr and melt into your lap, his eyes rolling back as his mouth fell slack.
Unfortunately, this particular existential crisis was too great to be struck low but something so minor as your fingers in his hair.
"Is it... the suit?" he mumbled, the words just a little slurred. "Not... mm, mm.... recognizable?"
Honestly, considering the color, he's now recognizable from space.
It was just a good thing he was handsome enough to pull it off.
"You're always recognizable as the only Devil-based hero with any real charm," you said confidently, keeping your thoughts to yourself. You shifted your fingers to his temple, scratching at a new spot. You were rewarded with a blatant moan, Matt's toes curling in his socks. "Trust me. It's not you. It's them. LA is, uh... just... more focused on... its own thing. You know how it is. So fuck em. You're still my favorite even if they don't know you."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm. And think about it this way. You might be less known, but that just means you're like, uh..."
"...I'm small-time," he sighed gloomily. "Just admit it."
"Hang on, I've got a comparison coming." You rolled your head up, narrowing your eyes at the ceiling in thought as Matt rolled over to burrow in against your abdomen with an exaggerated groan of sorrow. But there was no hiding his grin, not once you could feel it. "Don't suffocate yourself just yet."
He mumbled something unintelligible, and presumably tragic and martyr-y.
It took you a minute, but then you nodded. "Ok, I've got it."
He grunted, and tipped his head a little in prompting until you started dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time at the back of his head where the Devil mask always made him sore. The, "Mm?" he let out in response was glutted and thick, like the slurred purr of a cat on its back in a puddle of sunshine.
"You are basically one of those 'best kept secrets of the city' things," you said lightly. "All the tourists flock to the flashy stuff, restaurants that are shiny and get all the attention. But the locals know where the good stuff is, the quality stuff, and they know the best burgers always come from that one mom and pop hole in the wall. They don't tell the non-locals, cause someone might steal the recipe or buy it out. That's what you are. You're that burger."
There was a pause, and then he tipped his face up so you could see his warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That was very sweet."
"Thank you."
"It's also horseshit."
You groaned, rolling your head back as he laughed and dropped his head back onto your lap. "Come on, it was a good comparison!"
"No, no, there's no helping it. I just have to grieve my murdered ego," he sighed, blinking sadly up at you. Or your chin, really, but it was close enough. "There is one thing that might help me feel better, though, and distract me from my wounded pride."
"What's that?"
He hummed, licking his lips as he rolled onto his side, his head still on your lap, close enough for him to nuzzle at your abdomen. "I could eat."
Your brow furrowed. "We literally ate an hour ago. We went through In-N-Out. You were not impressed, you blasphemer."
He hummed, before leaning in and pointedly nipping the waistband of your sweats.
Oh.
"I'm hungry, sweetheart," he murmured, tipping his head down towards your lap as he drew in a slow inhale. "So hungry and empty where all my pride used to be. Can't I just have a little to help fill that void?"
"Oh my god, Matt," you choked out, two seconds away from losing it as he rolled upright to grab your legs and drag you down the bed until you were flat on your back.
"You're the one that chose food for your metaphor," he said with a grin, nudging your legs apart. "I'm just following my wife’s example."
"Oh alright, I suppose I could be charitable just this once. You did get spanked by a Hulk today, after all."
"She caught me. She didn't-"
"Spanked," you repeated gleefully, making him snort. "Want me to kiss the print on your ass and make it better?"
"At least let me eat dinner first."
"Fine. But I expect it as my tip at the end."
"Deal."
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pastaxandria · 2 months
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The Red Thread: Chapter 161
The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its archives: Chapter 161 of The Red Thread.
Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Chapter Summary:
With it came a sound, one only you seemed to hear. It was a sound you’d never forgotten, one you’d had the misfortune of hearing just once during a terrifying, panicked drive down a rural highway in Texas: a steadily building roar, one you could feel resonating inside your chest; the crackling pop and snap of dry trees and buildings catching light beneath a sudden rising heat and floating embers; the wild gusting of twisting winds heavy with smoke and charred ash that fell like flakes of snow onto cracked streets. The cavalry was coming, and oh, was that cavalry furious. Or: in which 5 muggers have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Wordcount: 5.6k
Warnings for this chapter: blood, canon-typical violence, lil bit of implied gore, scary sexy grr grr feral devil
Read me on AO3 where you can find Matt currently beating the shit out of bad people
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k1rad0esart · 5 months
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UGH I HATE HOW YOU CAN REALLY SEE HOW I SORTA RENDERED HIM BUT WHATEVER- Anygays🤭 Here’s some AU art cuz I haven’t drawn Threads Of Love! Wally in awhile
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My art style has changed so much since he was first made😭😭😭
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