#okay sorry tangent over

[seeminglyseph]

"Arrests require cause."

Bitch *you* let her instigate martial law! Through your power! What did you think that meant?!

That's literally the purpose of putting martial law in place. To be able to let the government do whatever police and military shit to its people without cause. It removes the rights of the civilians because it views those civilians as the enemy of The People.

You let hating Jinx make you forget what words mean, Caitlyn. I get it, grief does terrible things to a person, and Ambessa is a very compelling public speaker, but like. She said out loud: "Let's do Martial Law."

[swedenis-h]

Phoenix Tatooine day trip Goes Wrong™️ (X)

This is a little idea where Luke needs something (don’t ask me what) that he can only get on tatooine, so dinluke adventure ensues. The plan is to get there and leave ASAP, but then nostalgia hits and he needs to hit every shop and place he used to as a kid. But you know, “college kids comes back to hometown” syndrome hits and he realizes he’s changed too much. Think of how the holiday season doesn’t feel the same anymore now that you’re an adult, same feeling. AND YES ITS ALSO DUNLUKE BECAUSE I WANT THEM TO KISS AND TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS AND ALSO KISS.

Heres some extras 🫡

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[klanced]

Keith walking into the holding cell greeting all the regulars by name while Lance is sobbing lamenting that his life is over and his future is ruined (they were like. Trespassing or some shit he’s going to be fine)

lance: (actively dry heaving in the corner, on the verge of a panic attack as he imagines having a permanent record)(actually what does a permanent record even look like?)(omg is he going to have to go to COURT? like in JUDGE JUDY?)

keith: remy, this is lance. lance, this is remy, she’s my favorite alcoholic :)

[jasontoddiefor]

(ltit pregnancy anon) First of all, I kind of love you for the whole answer. Second, I'm having one of those "I thought it was subtext but it was TEXT all along" moments. One of your screenshot (the one where they embrace while sitting) was one of those I was originally thinking about, but I hadn't noticed the highlight on the stomach???? I'm also worried and excited, but honestly their first kid (... he kind of is) is growing up really well, so I'm hopeful about the whole situation

Bestie it’s so text I’m crying about it

Like, I think fundamentally their kid would be fine bc whenever we do see them co-parent Euiyoung, it’s working out pretty great?

I’d say Euihyun is starting to relax, which is great because it means Euiyoung is not going to have too much of “I can’t cause more problems for hyung” growing up and Taeju. I mean. He’s having a whole arc on how to not be a selfish piece of shit and I loved him during the whole Euiyoung goes missing when he yells at the bio dad like “are you stupid do you know anything about how kids work”

AT THE SAME TIME.

Like. I mean obviously there’s still a choice there, abortion is an option and all, but for once in my life I’m willing to accept the “no this character has so many family issues they’d not want to get an abortion” argument on Euihyun’s part.

Because like, at heart, he really only wants the average family life. For his brother to grow up happy and healthy, being able to play with other kids. A stable job, no worries about money, a home that’s safe and his. A kid does fit in there.

But by god bestie you only just more or less settled on “we are dating”. I think outright choosing to have a baby in the future would be much better for everyone involved mentally?

Tho not less funny in regards to Euiyoung’s age. His nibling would be what? 6 years younger than him? Imagine them going to the park. That’s his brother, that’s the guy he calls uncle, and that’s his nibling who probably calls him big brother bc they’re half a decade apart in age.

But yeah I’m curious to see how this will develop on the story. I’m also the worst person to talk to about stuff like this bc I love doing character studies through the lenses of pregnancy/kid fic.

[backseatloversz]

Trying to watch panic at the disco behind the scenes but so fucking much of it is zack hall and aside from the fact he is legitimately terrible on his own and also just comes across as really annoying he reminds me of the dad of this one childhood friend of mine who i inexplicably hated and was terrified of for like my entire childhood and i dont know why but i am still uncomfortable around him. so. Thats really awesome& cool

[vcrnons]

Yo fr fr those things are exactly why I stay away from twt fandom, twt is already the trash bin of humanity but it also applies to fandoms imo 💀 Also went back on Insta recently and tbh sometimes it's not much better... like... I'm so sorry those people count as fans

like. okay. im sure they mean well, you know? im sure this is either very well intentioned, or a lt worst, it’s a bad attempt at a clout chase. and as someone vernon biased of course i want to see him getting good opportunities and being recognised for more things. but when every single argument in your big mistreatment thread can be disputed by ‘hey, maybe he didn’t/doesn’t want to’ or ‘he was fucking busy?’ ………

there are leaves on trees out there, man. grass on the ground. birds, and shit. getting outside is good for the soul n maybe some people need to give it a try

[farewell-in-veil]

i dont think i need to say this here bc tumblr is tame but m just gonna. put it out there bc of the experience i just had !

if u support [checks notes] the legalization of drugs. block me rn

[raine-world]

No no no, the gameplay/cutscenes were bad/clunky, you can say it. I had my slugpups get grabbed and picked up by a vulture during the cutscene, thought they died, then was confused why they were fine the next cutscene. I think it was an oversight/bug, but that was completely immersion breaking and weird and kind of ruined a lot of the backstory for me. Like oh okay, the vulture death wasn't real, but the scav death was?? Whatever.

This is a million times better, and your artwork is amazing and honestly looks like it would fit right into the game. Especially since some of the modded artwork they brought over into the game doesn't stand up as well against the OG artwork and you can tell it's a different style... but this mimics it really well. I would love for the other scugs to dream too! Great ideas.

i honestly feel like it's a shame that Artificer's backstory was told through gameplay cutscenes rather than artwork. i mean the gameplay scenes weren't bad or anything, but the intro cutscene and dream sequences that Survivor/Monk got had such pretty art and were really impactful! so i tried to do it myself :D

(i wish every slugcat got illustrated dreams - imagine if we got to see Hunter and Spearmaster have dreams about NSH and Suns. or if we got to see Rivulet's dreams where they're just swimming or eating bubble fruit XD. and Saint could have lore cool lore stuff! it could really help characterize each scug)

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[hcuyk]

im a dean girlie and the description is EXACTLY how my last relationship ended.

i love that you can learn so much about a person's issues by asking them which of rory gilmore's cringefail boyfriends is their favorite.

[mariasont]

Sending another thought that I can’t think of a way to elaborate on to your magnificent mind

Aaron Hotchner with his assistant who’s rambling (like every other day) about random stuff and she’s just like “I want kids someday” and Hotch is like “oh yea?” And she’s like “yea! And if I ever have kids I hope they’re just like Jack, he’s such a little angel” blah blah blah and poor Hotch is screaming in his mind like YOU COULD HAVE JACK??? BE HIS STEPMOM????

Sorry I’m absolutely feral for them ily bye

BUSINESS OF MAKING BABIES - A.H

a/n: i took this in a slightlyyyy different direction but ugh same im so feral for these two!!!! thank you for your most amazing request! i <3 you!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: references to baby making!!!!!!

wc: 0.6k

Aaron needed to get work done, but his focus was more trained on the delicate patch of skin that connected your shoulder to your neck, smooth and glowing like you'd just stepped out of the sun. You smelled delectably good, which was sending his neurons into overdrive. You were saying something, formulating and articulating thoughts from that perfect brain and through your also perfect mouth. 

He was concentrated on making sure you knew he was listening, nodding and humming every so often as you continued on your tangent, hands waving dramatically through the air, heels clanking on the floor in his office as you paced the room. His gaze moved to your thighs, only for a second, he was a gentleman after all. 

"And she's just, you know, popping them out left and right, and I'm over here like, Hello? Can I get a turn? I'm not asking for much, just a sweet guy who's willing to, you know, help me out with the whole baby-making thing."

You stopped dead in front of his desk, placing your hands atop the wood as you let out a melodramatic sigh. This caught his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

"You want kids?" The words left his mouth before he could filter them. "Isn't that a bit premature at your age?"

"Okay, Grandpa," you giggled, plopping yourself down in the chair before him. "And, of course, I want babies. They'd be the cutest, hopefully just like Jack. He's the sweetest, isn't he?"

Hotch felt his heart plummet to his stomach, jaw clenching and unclenching as he rubbed his thumb along the rough edges of his chin. "Yeah, he's pretty great."

You sighed again, a common occurrence in this conversation, as you stood up and moved around the desk before plopping yourself down on it. Your calve grazed accidentally against his thigh. You absentmindedly adjusted a wrist full of charm bracelets, creating a gentle jingling sound that should've annoyed him, but it did anything but.

"Honestly, though, who even needs a boyfriend these days? I could totally just take the whole donor route for the baby thing. Easy-peasy!"

Hotch's response came after a brief, flustered pause, during which he seemed to search for the right words. Clearing his throat, he managed to look anywhere but at you as he carefully said, "Ah, yes, I suppose you could... do that."

In an effort to regain some semblance of control over the situation, Hotch took a deliberate sip of the somewhat stale coffee sitting on his desk. However, before he could swallow, you bounded off the desk, eyes wide with sudden realization.

"You know what? You would be a great donor."

The coffee in Hotch's mouth nearly made a swift exit as he choked, trying to comprehend what you had just said.

Hotch opened his mouth, attempting to form a coherent response, but before he could broker a single word, you had both hands on his shoulders.

Your eyes were sparkling as you took in his face. "Yeah, like, you have great hair--totally not receding--perfect eyes, great skin..."

Your rapid-fire compliments left him momentarily speechless, a rare flush making its way to his cheeks.

"Well, I--" Hotch began, but your excitement had already taken the reins before he could even navigate through his thoughts.

"I can totally see it; we'd have such cute kids!" you gushed, practically dancing towards the door as if your dreams were almost tangible in the air.

Hotch watched you leave, stuck in his chair, dumbfounded and momentarily lost for words. A bemused smile formed on his lips as he realized he didn't hate the idea at all.

No sooner had the door closed behind you than Morgan appeared, looking thoroughly baffled. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between Hotch and the door you had just exited through.

"Since when are you and Miss Pretty in Pink in the business of making babies together?"

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join my taglist here!

[nervoussagittarius]

which triplet is most likely to ft. matts girlfriend y/n!

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt invites his girlfriend to a car video with nostalgic vibes

warnings: none :)

you were sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan, you're normal spot when you were driving with the triplets. this time though, a camera sat in front of you on the dash of their car.

being home with the boys in boston was still something you were getting used to. your boyfriend matt had spent a big part of the day taking you around all the iconic spots in the city. the boys had asked you earlier in the if you wanted to participate in a video. you, of course, said yes.

your relationship was no secret to the world. you guys have been together for a couple years, and you had been featured in many og videos.

"gotta turn the world into a dance floor" chris sang, as matt got into the car. he pointed at you to finish the lyric

with a roll of your eyes, "determinate d-determinate" you sang back.

matt and nick looked at the both of you. one in anticipation of you guys to keep singing, and the other in anticipation of starting the video.

nick cut all of you off quickly to intro the video. "hey guys! welcome back to the fridays video"

"today we have a very special guest, drumroll please, my girlfriend y/n" matt said as he looked at you with a stupid smile on his face.

"hi guys! im back" you replied looking at the camera.

chris started from the backseat, "if you're new here, y/n has been in a bunch of our old videos, and were bringing her back to see her take on 'who's most likely to'"

"we've done this before but we figured y/n could give you guys an outside perspective” matt said as he looked at the camera.

“i’m giving y’all the dirt. we’re getting deep��� i- okay” the boys laughed at you while nick pulled up the first question.

“okay, which triplet is most likely to get mad at another for chewing to loud?” nick asked as you immediately looked between the camera and matt.

“we already know the answer because the viewers have seen this happen multiple times”

“yeah, i have to say it’s matt. i’m so sorry for coming at you first honey” you said in between giggles as matt rolled his eyes.

“i disagree. i don’t think i’m most likely to do that”

“matt! we’ve witnessed it bro. you can’t say it’s not you when it is. either way it’s a who’s most likely to question not who’s actually doing it! but you’re actually doing it. good god” nick exclaimed.

the car was packed with laughter as nick went in his tangent. you all calmed down as nick asked the next question.

“who’s most likely to not be able to sleep alone”

“all of you.”

“what!?” “no way!” “that’s not even true”

“no it’s so true” you responded to there complaints. “let me explain. nick is probably the least likely. he’s okay sleeping alone i just feel like people come to him the most to sleep with him so he’s used to sleeping with other people.”

“that’s very true. people are always in my bed” nick said giving the camera a little wink.

“matt and chris need to have someone with them at all times. chris can’t sleep in the same place for more then a night. he’s always sleeping everywhere but his own bed. and matt texts me at least once a week that i need to come over and sleep in his bed with him because he can’t fall asleep.”

“let me just clarify,” matt started, “i can sleep alone. i would rather have my girlfriend with me though. and that’s okay. that’s fine”

“yeah and i just don’t like being alone.” chris defended.

a few more questions were answered before you guys decided to call it quits for the night.

matt grabbed the camera off the dash pointing it at you. you smiled and put up a peace sign.

“look at how cute she is” matt said as he put his hand on your cheek.

“alright matt, end the video”

matt screamed in the camera quickly ending the video.

comments:

i can’t get over how beautiful matt and y/n are together

i need someone to look at me the way matt looks at y/n

i love nostalgic boston videos

petition to bring y/n back on the channel more.

an: this kinda sucks because half of it was deleted when i tried to save it to my drafts and i don’t really like it but y’all wanted a matt fic. first part of the matt series will hopefully be up soon🤍

[soleilapproves]

“Do you even like me anymore?”

The sheets of bloodied tissue resting in your trash bin would make anyone think that an amateur murderess resided in your apartment. Lucky for you, the nauseating smell of rubbing alcohol and your boyfriend were driving you in that direction anyway.

Bloody and bruised, Sukuna winced as you dabbed antiseptic on a particularly gnarly gash on his bicep. “Of course, I do. Why’d ya- ow -ask me that?”

“I dont know, maybe it’s because you don’t listen to me when I ask you not to race those stupid criminals that hang around gas stations or it’s because I barely see you cause you’re off driving to another city for fun. You barely call or text—move your arm a little—Yuuji asks me how you’re doing, and you guys live in the same house. So, I’m sorry if I’m starting to wonder if you still love me.”

They say that the silence is the loudest sound to exist. It envelopes and engorges a person against their will. You can’t avoid it. No matter how hard you try to press your clammy palms against your ears, you are bound to hear its loudness. And you always hated that about it. You hated that silence with Sukuna was unbearable. Almost deafening.

The man was known for his mean streak- a plight you had to accept when both of you began your relationship, but you could only handle so much.

He was speechless after your tangent. What could he say anyway? He unapologetically loved what he did no matter how much you disproved of it.

“Look, y’know I can’t abandon my bike. I’ve had it since—“

“—since you were in high school, but that doesn’t mean you abandon the people you love for it. Get your head straight, Sukuna. I’ve been asking you spend time with me for weeks and every time your excuse has something to do with that damn bike or some street fight you plan on getting into. You skipped dinner with my parents for that stuff”

“It’s cause I had bruises from my last fight.”

“And what does that say about you?”

Normally when you had your hands on your hips with your face contorted angrily, Sukuna would’ve pulled you right on top of him, ignoring the pain all over his bruised body. But he had to look past the lust to understand why you were mad at him.

“Okay, I promise I’ll tone down the fights. But I can’t let go of my bike.”

You sighed and packed up the first aid kit, prompting Sukuna to get off your bed and follow you to your bathroom.

“I’m not asking you to let go of anything, you idiot. I’m asking you to be safe— something I’ve been asking you to do for ages.” Your eyes were brimming were tears, and you were worried that your next few words would come out through pathetic whimpers. The last thing you needed is to let him know how much he has emotionally affected you because of his actions.

“Okay, I promise this is the last time. Hell, I’ll even smoke less.” His hands trailed up your arms while you were still facing the cabinet.

Lies. Both his promises were lies. He had promised to stop smoking months ago but you could still taste the bitter tobacco in his kisses.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Like, should I go to the emergency room if I get hurt or-“

“No, I mean, this is the end of it. I can’t do this anymore.”

—

Might delete later.

Update: nvm, here’s part 2

main masterlist

[starscreamingg]

Okay to respond to most of the replies on this post- I do get where you're coming from, androids are treated poorly in the game because they're an analogy for people of colour, the androids themselves don't deserve poor treatment just because they were put in a position of having to take a job that could've gone to a human.

I actually do think it could've been a decent way to get people who don't get involved with overt political discussion thinking about underprivileged people and the ways in which society has and continues to harm them. Like give the people something to latch onto (personable robots) and then go "hey you know who ELSE has been historically treated like this—"

Like that's. That's fine.

My point is that. Uh. I don't think making the androids an analogy for people of colour is a particularly good idea.

Okay let me get incomprehensible- within the real world the replacement of human workers with automated labour can and does fuck over actual people (some quick corroboration)

So we're shown in the game that androids are functionally automated labour built and inserted into industries for the explicit purpose of replacing human beings, which is an actual thing that actually happens.

And the game showcases that nothing has been done to stop employers (or cyberlife itself) from implementing them EVERYWHERE, which causes dbh's unemployment epidemic.And therein lies my problem.

The narrative comparing androids to people of colour (especially black people during the civil rights movement) and villainizing the unemployed humans by making them hyper-violent zealots (see- Markus' opening section for some of the most overt examples) is SUPER WEIRD TO ME because unlike actual people of colour the androids ARE functionally replacing jobs. They're being inserted into the workforce by corporations who have allowed the United States unemployment rate to rise to 37.4% but the game VERY ADAMANTLY STATES that the problem here is the unemployed who are violent. To the androids.

You see what I'm saying here? Like why did they write it like that? Like in real life labour being automated to this degree would be a PROBLEM. Wanting the androids universally decommissioned irl is such a reasonable point if you look at them as robots replacing the workforce without any limitations, which. They are.

And like, the game could've been sympathetic to the androids AND people fucked over by their implementation but it REFUSES to reckon with the actual problems (the corporations allowing this to happen, the lack of regulations on androids) in favour of going "humans bad for treating androids unfairly because the androids are equivalent to black people fighting for their rights."Like that's WEIRD, right???

Detroit Become Human and why does this game decide that the problem in society is individual people treating androids poorly because those androids are choking them out of the workforce and NOT the corporations and governments who deliberately designed the androids to do this

[tinyluvs]

Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it

i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*

the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad

“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”

rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest

you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head

your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”

he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you

“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you

stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues

you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”

“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out

a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude

rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours

“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest

he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”

you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk

“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”

sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs

still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”

“because what?”

he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck

“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you

puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics

you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple

he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit

“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.

his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.

“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!