#i wanna know how he killed them so bad…

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

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note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[rafesfavgirl]

i just want to know — r. cameron

another sad one bc i apparently don't know when to stop lol

❝ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man and i don't even want you back,  i just want to know ❞

pairing: ex-situationship!rafe x fem!reader

context: on the night of your 21st birthday, you run into rafe cameron—the boy who broke your heart.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: mentions of a toxic situationship, drunk!reader, word vomit, alcohol use, cigarette use, might make you cry, so much ANGST

you tumble out of the bar, your vision getting hazy from the amount of alcohol you'd drank, when two hands reach out to steady you.

"woah there, doll," the familiar drawl of his voice catches your attention, the alcohol haze fading for just a second as your eyes meet his.

rafe cameron.

"those are bad for you, you know," you point at the unlit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth and he narrows his eyes at you, amused at your drunken state.

"and alcohol's not good for you either, but that didn't stop you, did it?" he kinks an eyebrow and you giggle.

"touché," you nod once and slip out of his arms to walk along the sidewalk, before slipping down against the brick wall of the bar to sit down on the concrete.

"alright, what are you doing?" rafe walks over to you when you begin unstrapping your heels from your feet.

"these shoes have been killing me all night," you complain, letting out a sigh of relief and tossing them off to the side.

"then why do you wear them?" rafe asks, taking a seat beside you.

"because they make my legs look hot," you say, causing him to chuckle.

he couldn't exactly argue. when the two of you used to go out, your legs were one of his favorite things about you—especially the way they looked wrapped around his waist.

"where are your friends, doll?" rafe takes the cigarette out of his mouth and shoves it into his pocket.

"don't know," you shrug. "making out with some guys, maybe?"

"and why aren't you?" he asks. "isn't it your birthday?"

that makes you snap your head towards him. "are you stalking me?"

"i-"

"i'm just kidding," you playfully hit his arm and giggle, causing him to shake his head at you, amused. "and to answer your question, i prefer to be single."

"oh?" his eyebrows raise, his blue irises boring into yours. "and why's that?"

"it keeps me focused," you say, pointing a finger at your forehead.

"focused on what?"

"school, college, my career…" you begin listing things off, and rafe listens intently. "i wanna be a doctor, you know. can't be out and about dating guys and getting my heartbroken."

"just 'cause you meet a guy in a bar doesn't mean you gotta date 'em," he reminds you. "don't you wanna have fun?"

"i tried that already, remember?" you allude to the situation you'd put yourself in with him a year ago, the alcohol clearly clouding your judgment—you'd never bring that up to him sober. "it didn't work out quite how i wanted it to."

a sigh falls from his lips, as he glances down. "y/n…"

"hey, can i ask you something?" you cut him off, and he picks his head up to look at you again.

"are you in the state to ask me something?"

"probably not," you shake your head, a smile on your lips. "but i probably won't get the chance to ask again."

"alright, shoot," he nodded.

you tilt your head to the side, eyes locking with his. "why did you end it?"

by the way his shoulders shift and his posture straightens, it was clear he wasn't expecting that to be the question. he always thought it ended amicably because you both agreed to it—or maybe that's just what he's told himself to prevent himself from feeling bad for breaking your heart.

"i mean, was it me?" you continue when he doesn't answer. "did i do something wrong? was i not experienced enough? did you just feel bad for me? what was it? cause i've driven myself crazy trying to figure it out and i just— i thought we were having fun."

you knew that you'd began to ramble, questions slipping out of your mouth with no filter, the alcohol winning over.

his eyes scan over your face, which looked to be in agony, your eyebrows scrunched and your eyes pleading.

"we were," he nods. "y/n, it never had anything to do with you."

"then why?" you asked, voice cracking.

the alcohol was now making you emotional, and there was no stopping it.

"why did you end it, rafe?" you poke a finger at his chest. "i thought you liked me."

"i did," he said, hand reaching up to push a piece of your back. "oh, pretty girl, i did."

his touch lingers for a second before it's gone again, and your eyes are welling up with tears.

"then why were there always other girls?" you ask, surprising him—he didn't know you knew about them. "if you liked me, why was there always someone else? why were you always with someone else when you weren't with me? why wasn't i enough for you?"

"i— i didn't think you knew about them," he admits.

"i pretended not to," you shrug, sniffling. "thought if i said something, i'd lose you. i mean, it's not like we were dating, y'know? i wasn't your girlfriend— it wasn't my place to tell you not to be with other girls. i just thought that if i'd stuck around long enough you'd realize that—" you stop and shake your head. "you know what, it doesn't even matter. it's not like it's gonna change anything."

well now, he felt like shit. you'd played it off so well when it ended—or maybe he was just too high to notice—but seeing you like this… he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't break his heart.  "i didn't know you cared that much."

"well, now you do," you tell him, before pushing off the ground to stand up. "and if you'll excuse me, i'm not really in the party mood anymore, so if you see my friends, tell them i left."

"y/n, wait," rafe scrambles to his feet, his hand reaching out to clasp around your wrist to stop you from walking away.

"what?" you turn to look at him, defeated. this wasn't exactly how you expected the night of your 21st birthday to pan out.

"i'm sorry, a'ight?" he drops his hand from your wrist, shoulders shrugging as his sad eyes met yours. "i never wanted to hurt you, i just— i wasn't ready."

"and that was fine," you tell him. "but you should've told me that. not pretended like you were taking me seriously when you weren't. i asked you so many times, rafe. and you lied, every time."

rafe sighs, hand motioning to you. "you were just so pure. perfect. i didn't have it in me to hurt you."

you scoff, head shaking as you eyes averted to the side. "doesn't mean you didn't."

"i know, i know," he closes the distance between you, taking both your hands in his. "and there is not a day that goes by where i don't kick myself for how horribly i treated you."

well, this was definitely news to you. when he called things off with you, claiming that it'd be too hard because you were going off to college and meeting new people, he made it look so easy. the words rolled off his tongue as if he'd said it a thousand times before. while you were falling for him, you were just another girl.

"i am so sorry," he says, eyes zoned in on yours. "the last thing i wanted was for you to feel as if you weren't enough for me. if anything, you were too much. and i mean that in a good way. i was too much of an idiot to see how special you were then."

though you'd waited for him to say those words the last six months, they didn't mean much to you now. you'd already come to terms with the fact that he just wasn't the one—hearing him say this now only provides you the closure you so desperately needed to move on for good.

"god," he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, and for just a second, you let yourself lean into it. "some guy is gonna be lucky as hell to get you one day."

"that guy just isn't you."

a small, sad smile forms on his lips, but he nods. "happy birthday."

y'all i think this one triggered something in me bc why tf am i crying rn 🌝

promise i'll start working on some cuter fics that aren't so heartbreaking!!!

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[mysadblacksoul]

Backslide - 3/13 of the Clancy album

Grab a coffee and let's start this madness

MV

Tyler is wearing the same clothes that he wore in Overcompensate MV to I would assume that this MV takes place right after

Let's break down the signs first

We see the return of Ned Bayou as well as FPA, now standing for Food Petrol Etc.

You can buy 9 buns for $21, love the symbolism

There is a Jim sign omg. Baby is having his own bubblegum business

Of course the Bishops sign with 9 lines marked on it

I could've sworn that the black sign says "Dema Vapes", but looking closely I believe it's "Velma Vapes" lol

What is more, the cones (?) are yellow and I'm pretty sure that the fact that there are 5 of them is not an accident

They sold him bread that went bad lol. Nah for sure it's not the case since he gives the same bread to a child

But I believe that the scene and the lyrics are closely tied with Stressed Out

Now the next scene is interesting

I think that the bad weather is a simple metaphor for feelings of anxiety or fear

We can see that Tyler was contemplating then he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts

This is when the scene changes to normal, right? Exactly on the line It's over my head

Then we move to the scene with the kid

And I really believe that this little lad is personification of Ned

Like he has the same boba eyes lol

No but for real, this is parallel to Chlorine - kid is giving Tyler a cup just like Tyler gave to Ned. Yet he accepts it and drinks whatever is inside and Ned just shudders

Another interesting thing, that could make my point more valid is that the kid literally asks Is that a stain? You should change / Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? like he knows Tyler very well and is in a way looking out for him

It's like he's keeping Ned by him - okat I'll stop

It might be a stretch, but the N kinda looks like a mirrored band symbol, do you also see it?

If 0.75c is equivalent to the cost of one bun than Tyler is being ripped off since he paid $21 for the pack instead of $6.75 lmao

Something is really wrong with those buns lmao

Then the mood changes again, but this time is even worse. Like his mental health is declining even more and even faster

The bread is wet, the day is ruined, thanks Mr. Joseph

You killed it Josh, love your creative mind

*funny music stops*

Now let's talk about the way how the MV is looping itself

I would say that it is a demonstration of the twisted circle that is life

Maybe it's a very basic analysis but I think of all the complicated lore-oriented MVs this one is uncomplicated

What is shown here is how our psyche can play tricks on us and how we can complicate a rather simple situation ourselves

If Tyler hadn't had dark thoughts then nothing would have happened to the bread, so he would have just gone and given it to Josh

This shows how our psyche itself can abolish the situation in which we find ourselves

Looping, on the other hand, shows that as long as we don't do anything about it ourselves, we will be stuck in this fishbowl (see what I did there?)

Maybe it's one big AD to check your mental health and a sign to try to get better

Lyrics!

Rat race, place to place, adding weight / Tendencies on repeat, innit? - rat race for sure happened in Dema, and repeat is literaly the loop, innit meand that Clancy is canonicaly British

Benefit from a shoe with no lace - shoe with no lace would make you fall back on the behaviour that you are running from

Take the seat with the crease in it - seat of someone who already tried to change their life, or even who had the same dreams and hopes for better future like Clancy

This could be parallel to When I leave, don’t save my seat/ I’ll be back when it’s all complete from Chlorine

I don't care, you control me / Leading me anywhere - well, all I should say is Dema don't control me and we all know the rest of the story

I don't wanna backslide to where I've started from - he doesn't wanna go back to his back habits as well as doesn't wanna go back to his life before he tried to escape

There's no chance I will shake this again - if he falls back one more time that will be the end of him. His psyche won't take it anymore and his plans will be buried

'Cause I feel the pull, water's over my head - this is parallel to Fall Away And I, I can feel the pull begin. But it also gives me the parallel to Holding On To You MV, the scene with the rope

Strength enough for one more time - like I said, this would be the last attempt to change everything

Reach my hand above the tide - it could indicate that his physical strength is also wearing out

I'll take anything you have / If you could throw me a line - again with the line. But it also can mean that he can endure anything now, he just needs a little helping hand

I should've loved you better - this line can be directed both to himself but also to the person who extends his hand to help. He might not have appreciated both parts before and now regrets it

Do you think that now's the time / You should let go? - This line is like both a request and an apology. As if he wants to say “I'm sorry I treated you badly before but please don't leave me when I need help”

Bad place, on a hundred-dollar bass - this line is also giving me Stressed Out. You can imagine the cheap bass being transported on the bicycle right?

Kinda wishin' that I never did "Saturday" - I think that he doesn't mean the MV irl lol, but the regret of taking part in Bishops' manipulation altogether

Is that a stain? You should change - a play with mentioning Saturday and the lirycs She said that I should change my clothes

Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? - like I said before I believe that this is Ned looking out for Clancy, wishing him well

Thanks for asking, in a way, but / Accidentally uncovered a new one yesterday - safe to say that he is not doing better lol

What happened to what I brushed under the rug? - what happened to how well he used to be able to hide his problems and true feelings

I used to be the champion of a world you can't see / Now I'm drowning in logistics - if viewed as a fact that he created this world it now looks like he wants to regain all control over it. Logistics is to take care of the management of planning. And once again we see the mention of drowning

The bridge is acting as an externalization of his myhs and fears that even if he is outside the Dema, the Bishops will still have control over him

The entire song is about both regaining conrol over the world of Dema but also regaining control over himself, his psyche.

The main theme is about not going back to old habits.

The most important thing here is progress and pushing forward.

Because one wrong move can make all the work in vain and we will sink to the very bottom.

Safe to say that I liked it haha

[piplup335]

Subspace & a reader who is a toxic player!

HEYA, FELLAS!!!

sry I didn’t have time to write, I was quite busy these few days ;-; but hey, now I have time to write! I’m just cramming out whatever time I have to finally rest and finish up reqs :D

honestly I like writing for you all, so I’m not a fan of going inactive LMAO

anyway, enjoy!

requested by…yeah, you already know who you are, you just don’t wanna admit it. I know who you are :)

-

"At last."

Subspace could feel the smugness radiating off of Medkit as he fired a crystal, instantly healing his teammates. Subspace had tried to chase after and take down the other team's Shuriken for one and a half minutes, only to get shot and taken down by Medkit himself, his sworn enemy.

Or rather, Subspace himself didn't try to take down Shuriken.

It was the player. The one controlling him.

More specifically, someone named (Y/N). He overheard the name when someone yelled at them to keep quiet…and judging by the tone, it seemed like this wasn’t the first time.

Deep down, Subspace never wanted to fight anyone. He just wanted to stay in his lab in Blackrock, tinkering on his newest experiments and inventions, improving the Biografts he held so dear to him...after all, the Biografts were the "people" he truly felt close to, the beings he saw as children.

But no, the creators of the endless game he was trapped in pulled him out of Blackrock for ungodly amounts of time, only being able to leave when the server was shut down for maintenance or when the game was closed for updates.

He rarely even got to see his creations as often, only being able to catch sight of them in what the players called a "lobby" or during one of the matches. Regardless of whether Biograft or Hyperlaser was on the same team as him or not, a familiar sight was always appreciated.

To the players, it was just an average video game where you use random characters and fight each other with swords and stuff.

To Subspace, it was hell.

He wanted to be left alone to work on his creations in the eternal winter of Blackrock.

But no, he had to be pulled out of the comfort of his lab just to fight people, most of whom he had never met before.

He didn't even have control of his actions either- everything was decided by the player.

The player. Subspace shuddered at the thought.

He always hated losing control of his body, watching helplessly as the player controlled his every movement. Controlled where he walked, who he attacked, how he attacked...Subspace couldn't even run to save his life if he wanted to.

Sometimes, whoever the player was would be nice to him. On those days, the player would make smart decisions to avoid death, allowing him to effortlessly eliminate multiple opponents by utilising his poisonous tripmines to shred the opposing team's defences.

In other scenarios such as this one, however, the player controlling him was terrible.

They would make the worst possible choices, immediately charging into battle even though he was meant to attack from a distance. They never used his crystals effectively, missing the opportunity to immobilise and slow down his opponents...they made so many bad decisions it was almost impressive.

Today, however, seemed a lot worse.

Not only did this one player, (Y/N), suck at utilising his abilities, but he would also curse him out for being "bad" and "useless".

And now, here he was. He was faced with a death screen with his limp body on the ground as Medkit ran past him to heal the rest of his team.

The player had spent almost two minutes trying to take down a SINGLE PLAYER. The amount of misfires on other people was impressive at that point...

And now it was all for nought.

"Damn it! You suck at this! I spend so much time trying to kill someone and I can't because you do less than 5 hitpoints for your normal attack!"

Subspace internally groaned at this. He was not allowed to cry out loud or make a sound outside his usual voice lines- that would alert the player that he and the others were self-aware about these phights being nothing more than a game.

He forced himself to keep his mouth shut.

Subspace was irritated- he wanted to yell out loud, retort at the player and get some common sense into his head. He wanted to instruct the player as to how to properly play him so that maybe, just maybe, the player could shut up for thirty seconds.

He was tired of seeing the death screen so many times in one match. By then, he had seen it seven or eight times in four minutes and was slowly getting tired of it.

He just wanted to break free from the puppeteer's grasp.

He just wanted to get out of the lobby. He wanted to head to Crossroads, down the familiar concrete path back to Blackrock. He just wanted to put on a warm coat amidst the everlasting blizzard in his faction.

The blizzard gave him a warmth in his chest...a warm feeling that reminded him of home.

"One last minute..." Subspace thought. One more minute, and he could rest for another thirty seconds...until being pulled straight back into another nightmarish round, another round where he'd experience the constant and tedious cycle of spawning, being controlled, getting killed, spawning again...

He wished he could go home, back to Blackrock. He did not like it here.

As the round ended, Subspace got a glimpse of the results screen.

He was last. Again. With thirteen deaths, zero kills, and only two assists.

“Darn it! Why’d I even pick you? Your damage output is trash!”

Subspace could hear (Y/N) let out a string of profanities upon seeing another loss. Just as Subspave thought all was lost and he’d die from madness after all this, he heard Zuka announce something- something he had yearned to hear for the past thirty minutes.

“Phighters- I got a message from the developers. Server’s gonna shut down, maintenance is happening soon.”

Five seconds later, Subspace felt energy return to his joints as he stumbled onto the floor.

Subspace tried moving his arm, then went on to flexing his fingers. It worked.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

One by one, other phighters around the lobby stumbled and toppled over as they regained energy in their joints as the players got kicked.

The puppeteers were gone.

Zuka gestured into his van.

“We’re going back to Crossroads. Hop in.”

As the familiar tower in Crossroads emerged in the distance, Subspace finally let his shoulders relax. He was closer to Crossroads, closer to his laboratory, closer to his home…

Subspace wouldn’t need to fight his beloved Biografts like he was forced to in phights. It always tore him apart to attack his creations, the very things he had worked so hard to perfect…the closest thing he had to a true companion.

But now, he could rest.

Other phighters lounged around in Crossroads. Rocket could be seen making small talk with Sword

Hyperlaser and Katana could be seen heading to the nearest bar.

All the phighters seemed to want to have a chat with someone else before heading back to their respective factions.

Instead, Subspace trudged down the path to Blackrock without saying a word, exhausted and irritated from everything that happened.

Biograft spotted this and immediately sprinted towards his creator.

“I just don’t get it!! Why me?? Why do I always seem to get the most talentless players?? I can see their stats and half the people who play me are newbies!!”

Biograft listened. That was his task, anyway- to identify the needs of his creator and adapt to them. And right now, Subspace needed a listening ear- someone who would listen to all his woes about the day.

“Why am I even doing this?? It’s been a week without seeing a player that knew their stuff!! Dear Illumina, WHY?!”

Biograft may have been a robot, but he was programmed to understand what his creator needed and how to respond.

If he needed food, Biograft could cook up a meal.

If he needed a certain tool, Biograft could bring Subspace his trusty toolbox.

But right now, all Subspace needed was some comfort.

The duo trod back to the familiar snowy landscape of Blackrock in silence. Biograft knew that his creator just wanted to go home. He didn’t have the energy for this.

Back in the lab, Biograft listened to Subspace.

The lab was Subspace’s haven, the only place where he felt comfortable enough to let loose.

Subspace spent so much time in the lab, more time than in his own house so much so that Biograft would often worry for its creator. Subspace would then reassure it, saying that he’s just doing what he enjoys. Never once would Biograft ever see Subspace at his workstation without his concentrated expression, only changing when Subspace chuckled softly every time a component worked as intended.

But today was different.

Subspace was resentful of the player, and back in his lab was where he finally let out all his pent-up rage.

Upon entering the lab, Subspace collapsed onto a nearby chair, groaning in annoyance.

“That little sh-!! I did what I could to accommodate his stupidity, but what did he do?? Curse me out, that’s what!!”

Subspace got up, pacing around and stomping on the ground to emphasise his point.

Biograft watched his creator. It could hear everything the player said, and despite being on the opposite team, it could almost feel a sense of empathy towards his creator, deep down in his processors.

“And do I have a damn choice as to whether or not I get controlled?? No!! This crap is all part of a VIDEO GAME, and I don’t have a say as to whether or not I participate!! Can’t I like, call in sick??”

Subspace picked up a screwdriver and was about to hurl it at the wall…but he paused, looked at the tool, and set it back down on his workbench.

He collapsed back into the seat, groaning in annoyance.

“…apologies, Biograft. It’s been a rough day…and I finally get to let loose.”

Understanding his situation, Biograft’s processors whirred to life, processing the new information. The soft hum of the processor was the only sound in the lab as Subspace lay on the chair.

As Biograft’s processors grew silent, it walked over and put an arm around its creator.

For once in a long time, Subspace felt some warmth.

And it wasn’t from his usual coat.

-

thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

if you do have feedback, please drop it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D

[mayiwritesomething]

Compress/Repress (one-shot)

Wordcount: 1,6k

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: +18 MDNI, Sex, masturbation (m and f) more sex and filthy, so if it’s not your cup of tea, just skip it, you’ve been warned.

A/N: As some of you know, the Challengers movie is out, so it’s score, and as usual, Reznor and Ross killed it! Listening to Compress/Repress just gave me an idea, and this smuty one-shot was born haha

Have fun :)

—————————————-

"Please… faster... just do it faster," you pleaded as he fingered you slowly, a sensation you found torturous. With a smile on his face, he gently held your head with his other hand as you lay back on his bed. You knew exactly what to expect when he helped you settle into the pillows, but you hadn't anticipated being in this position so quickly. The image of you lying there with your legs spread open, accompanied by your soft moans, was something that would linger in his mind. He relished seeing you completely surrendered to him, as he explored your body until you begged for more.

"Show me how badly you want it, babe—just show it to me," he urged, gazing at your exposed form as you moved against his fingers, unable to hide the pleasure he was evoking from you. Your soft moans filled the air as he teased you relentlessly. "Fuck, babe, you're soaking my fingers. You want it so bad, don’t you??" The lust in his eyes was unmistakable as he spoke, and you simply nodded affirming it, biting your lower lip in response, fully aware of his enjoyment of your reaction. "Wanna a taste?" Your smile mirrored his sinful tone.

As he brought his wet fingers from between your thighs to your lips, you made sure to suck on them slowly, maintaining eye contact. He let out a soft moan, exactly as you had anticipated. Ensuring not a drop was wasted, you could only whisper, "Please, baby, just be nice to me," attempting to kiss him, but he gently denied you, plunging two fingers back inside you.

"Only after you cum, babe," he declared, placing a kiss on your forehead. Frustration welled up inside you. You wanted to retreat, but the need for the pleasure only he could provide kept you anchored. Releasing your face, he took one of your hands and guided it to your clit. "Can you help me, babe?” He asked. “Touch yourself just like you do when I'm not around," he instructed, observing as you pleasured yourself while he continued to finger you. "I can feel you tightening around me, baby. You're almost there—just keep going," he encouraged, adjusting your hair before tracing his fingers along your lips, locking gazes with you. "Just be a good girl," he murmured, kissing your breasts gently, a smile playing on his lips.

"Ple… please," you said, closing your eyes and breathing fast as he quickened his movements inside you. Your moans grew louder as you tried to match his rhythm, touching yourself in sync.

Beside you lay a fully clothed figure, still playing with you. Initially, you found his slow pace irritating, craving everything to happen faster, but now you appreciated how he took his time, ensuring your pleasure matched his own. This shared experience was something you found remarkable about him. Every time, it was a pleasure for both of you.

"Tell me how it feels, babe," his voice laced with desire. "You're getting tighter..." A slow, rough movement, a deep breath from you, "...and tighter," another deliberate thrust, a smile on his face as he focused on you. "Don't stop looking at me while you do it," he commanded, holding your face as you began to lose control over your movements, nearing climax. "Come for me, babe. I want to see it," he urged, caressing your hair and then planting a soft kiss on your forehead once again, as you found yourself lost in the moment.

"Oh, FUCK!" you screamed, feeling your body convulse as your climax washed over you in a wave of electricity. You attempted to pull away from him, the intensity of your release hitting you like a shockwave. All you could hear was his satisfied chuckle, exactly what he had wanted to see—your body arching, the uncontrollable movements, the loud moans as you cried out—and still, he hadn't removed his fingers from inside you, despite the trembling and your struggle to contain yourself. With your head buried in the pillow, trying to regain focus, you felt him drawing you close.

"That was so beautiful," he murmured, pulling you in for a deep, hungry kiss. "I love you, babe," he whispered, breathless. "I love you so much," he said, withdrawing his fingers slowly only to offer them to you, captivated by the way you sensually sucked on them while maintaining eye contact. Your mischievous smile enticed him, and he promptly ran his hands all over you, kissing you as if it were the last time he would ever do so.

Drawing him nearer, you reciprocated the kiss with equal fervor, having longed for it since he began his teasing. "I love you too," you whispered, holding his face. "Especially when you treat me this nicely," you giggled, looking into his eyes.

"You love that, don't you?" he whispered as you tried to regain your balance. You nodded in affirmation, feeling his tender kiss as he savored the moment, ensuring you felt him. The desire between you was intense, both craving each other intensely. You pulled him closer into the pillows that had once cradled you, a playful grin on his face. "Feisty,” he said.

"Now it's my turn," you declared, locking eyes with him. "Off with the shirt," you signaled, and like a well-trained puppy, he complied.

"Who would have thought the same woman who was begging for me just moments ago would now be taking charge," he chuckled, eagerly anticipating your next move. "I'm lucky to have the best of both worlds," he added, admiring you.

"Always a charmer," you teased as you straddled him, kissing him slowly, reveling in the feel of his skin against yours. He held you close, his body yearning for your touch. "Why did we agree to only use our hands today?" you whined between kisses, grinding against him.

"Yeah… It was a terrible idea," he confessed, his voice husky as he lifted you to kiss your breasts.

You laughed, pushing him playfully as you took your time. Slowly, you slid down his boxer briefs, reveling in the sight of his desire for you. His hand caressed your arm as you began to stroke him gently. "Would you mind if I break the rules and use my mouth?" you teased, tracing kisses along his body as he moaned softly. "Would you, baby?"

"No," he managed to breathe out, his focus on holding himself back. You smiled, kissing him as you continued your slow, tantalizing strokes. Moving down, you kissed his neck, his chest, following a trail until you reached his pelvis, taking your time to plant soft kisses as he caressed your back, softly calling your name amidst quiet moans.

"Tell me what you want," you whispered softly, gazing into his eyes. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Please, just..." he struggled to form a coherent sentence. You smiled at him, his admiration evident as he ran his hand from your back to your ass, a prelude to him gripping your hair. Without hesitation, you took him fully, eliciting louder moans and a tight grip on your hair, showing just how much he desired you. “Fuck” he whispered as you kept your steady rhythm. “You are so perfect baby—Fuck….”.

You smiled back at him, your eyes mirroring his intense desire for you. "You are absolutely perfect, my love," you whispered, still stroking him before taking him fully into your mouth once more. His efforts to hold back his release only added to the pleasure you found in pleasuring him. The way he whispered your name huskily, the firm grip of his hand in your hair, coupled with the tender way he followed your movements, all signaled his impending climax. "It's okay, baby, let go," you urged him hurriedly, eager to continue pleasing him.

"Fuck," he gasped before reaching his peak in your mouth. You made sure not to let any of it go to waste, savoring every moment as he trembled, moaned, and called out your name, holding you as tightly as he could.

"It looks like someone had a good time," you teased, only to be pulled into a desperate, passionate kiss by him. His grip was so tight that you had to remind him to take it easy for a moment.

"I need you," he whispered, catching his breath, his hand freely roaming your back as you kissed his neck. His other hand held your face, his thumb caressing your lips, kissing you with such fervor that your body ignited with desire.

"So do I," you chuckled, feeling the tingle of his beard against your neck. "I love you," you murmured tenderly, locking eyes with him.

"I love you too, baby," he replied, his vulnerability evident as he gazed into your eyes, his hands caressing your hair while you straddled him. "I love you so much and your incredible mouth," he added, kissing you once more.

"I'm not done yet," you murmured between kisses. "I want more, baby."

"You broke the rules, so I suppose it's only fair if I do too, right?" he said, gently guiding you underneath him. "Let me see that beautiful back of yours, baby," he whispered, planting soft kisses along the back of your neck and down your spine, until he reached your core once again. This time, he didn't tease you; he wanted it just as much as you did. Holding onto the pillow tightly, you moaned softly as he took you from behind, savoring every moment, as he always did, intent on bringing you to complete satisfaction. And you loved that.

Touch, touch, touch me

Change, change, change

You and you is me

You, you, into me

Play the game (Play the game), one, two, three (One, two, three)

I can feel you touch, touch me

Compress, repress

Repress, compress

And then just surrender (And just surrender)

[getosugurusbangs]

bleaching the bathtub puts me at ease.

[hecksupremechips]

Akihiko becoming a cop is something that simply doesn’t happen in the coma route cuz Shinji would see that shit and be like Aki what the actual hell is wrong with you

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[mishapen-dear]

okay so i tend to work out my aus best when i think about them like a story so Step One: where the fuck do we start.

jaiden's pov. ofc. maybe alternating chapters. i think it would be mildly confusing until the reader realized that Jaiden Rogue and Jaiden Weapon were the alternating chapters and they were getting alternate viewpoints- one of her Descent, and one of her Ascent.

the descent chapters would be her turning into the sort of person who would follow orders to hurt an egg. her being lead by cucurucho to the living weapon program and being "deceived" by it by fully knowing what it wanted from her. making that choice to drown herself and emerge as someone -something- new. these chapters would Also address the problem that is jaiden becoming so brainwashed that she does whatever the federation wants instead of what she would have wanted, and hurting an egg (probably something via kidnapping/accidental injury she doesn't give a shit about. classic federation egg opinions). also she would have a subtext feud with badboyhalo. it would be the fucking- the annoyance that keeps her connected. the feds dont want her to fuck with him but he keeps fucking with her mission so she's annoyed when he shows up. like she never does anything outward to indicate this feud but there's the Recognition and the aww man not this guy again. the proof that she failed to remake herself because even with mission success she's still like aw MAN fuck that guy. she's still, infuriatingly, more than a tool.

[pinkopalina]

as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.

[vivitalks]

okay okay okay i have a half-baked theory, hear me out.

so we know deucalion aka The Demon Wolf can do this to his face

and there’s never really any explanation as to (a) why he can shift like that, or (b) why none of the other alphas or werewolves seem to have that ability.

BUT. we do see this type of Dark Shift (that’s what i’m calling it) happen one other time in the show:

in 4x10, “Monstrous,” when scott loses control and is on the verge of murdering that guy.

what else do we know? well, about deucalion, not a lot, but we know that prior to being blinded, he was an intelligent and respectable alpha who had a vision of peace and enough faith in humanity that he tried to make peace with gerard argent. of all people. we don’t know how old deucalion is or how long he’s been a werewolf, but if it’s true that he bit and turned alexander argent in 1977 (which we see in the opening scene of 3x05, “Motel California,” and which is later confirmed by gerard), that means he would have to have been an alpha for at least ~40 years.

outside of deucalion lore, we also know that this Dark Shift doesn’t happen to just any werewolves on the brink of murder, because it doesn’t happen to liam in the 5A finale when he almost kills scott. as far as canon goes, aside from deucalion, the Dark Shift only happens to one other person/werewolf - scott mccall, True Alpha.

so here’s my theory: before he was corrupted, Deucalion was a True Alpha.

think about it: we know deucalion had certain traits characteristic of a True Alpha before he was ambushed by gerard. he valued peace even in the midst of allies all clamoring for war. he wanted to see the best in his enemies (gerard) and to believe them capable of change. we know True Alphas are rare, but obviously scott wasn’t the first. it would make sense that any existing True Alpha would have a certain renown, and deucalion certainly had renown, both before and after being ambushed.

so for the sake of argument, let’s say deucalion was a True Alpha. he earned his power, became an alpha in his own right simply by strength of character, without ever having to kill. we know you can’t become a True Alpha if you kill someone before you can advance to that level, but what about after? what happens if a True Alpha kills someone?

i doubt you lose your alpha status/spark. that wouldn’t really make sense. instead, i think that maybe when a True Alpha corrupts by intentionally taking a life, the werewolf part of them corrupts too. it withers. it darkens. and it turns their shift into something even less human, but also less werewolf - more demon than anything.

this also fits in with that s4 scene with scott, because that scene is the only one where scott comes close to actually murdering someone. the Dark Shift starts to take over, but then, importantly, he stops, and doesn’t actually kill the guy he’s attacking. and the Dark Shift recedes, and we never see it on scott again. he never gets that close to killing someone again.

also ALSO! if deucalion was a True Alpha, but then was corrupted, that would even further explain (a) how he seemed to be so knowledgeable about True Alphas even without knowing scott at all and (b) why he was so desperate to corrupt scott. in morrell’s words, psychologically speaking deucalion both “desires” scott (as a reminder of what he once achieved) and is “threatened by” scott (as someone who is still capable of becoming a True Alpha and thus being “better” than deucalion himself, who is a former True Alpha, now corrupt). 

and as morrell says, if the obsessive can’t have the object of his desire, then he will choose to destroy it instead. think of scott in the beginning of season 4, feeling so threatened by liam’s skill in lacrosse that he accidentally plays too hard and injuries him. i mean, hell, think back to season 1, with jackson feeling threatened when scott suddenly becomes way better at lacrosse than he is. remember this quote?

“Do you know what it's like to be the best player on the team? To be the star? To have every single person at the game chanting your name? And then... some kid... some kid just comes along, and then everyone starts looking at him instead of you. Do you know what that feels like? [...] Well, it feels like something's been... it feels like something's been stolen from you. And then you start to feel like you'd do anything-- anything in the world-- to get it back.”

for deucalion, scott becoming a True Alpha would be a taunting reminder of everything he lost, the person he used to be, the person that was ripped from him along with both his literal and metaphorical vision. deucalion having been a True Alpha makes his obsession with scott - and specifically with corrupting scott - make a whoooole lot more sense.

TL;DR: Deucalion was a True Alpha before he corrupted by killing his own beta, and intentionally taking a life caused his werewolf form to turn dark and evil-looking. this is also what starts to happen to scott in season 4, but it never takes because scott doesn’t actually go through with killing the guy.

[trans-li-ling]

I think we should give Zora a gun and whatever happens to the Shadow Decree happens

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Love how me and my cousin don't really know how to talk to each other so we just play 8ball pool over facebook

[latinokaeya-moving]

treated myself to the very short beginning section of three houses just now but i had to stop n turn off my switch when the game asked me to pick a house bc i started agonising over whether to go w edelgard first or just jump straight into the claude route

[jfouler]

@apocalisms​ asked:

i propose an alternative: macy and/or mae's reaction to jamie's death.

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it. 

U ARE SO EVIL FOR THIS ONE... i was gonna just ramble but then i was like oh ow i could write this. and then i did. and i got sad and its messy ajhsbd

its long so i’ll put most of it under a readmore :

//

mae can't sleep. her whole world is quiet, save for her mother's sniffles and sobs and whispers to herself ( a sound that's become all too familiar these past few days ) from the living room. that room where she would sit with her parents and feel safe. ( ...where her parents would argue, where she once sat on the floor, toying with the loose carpet fibers while they gently explained to her that change is okay, that mommy and daddy love her very much and want the best for her... ) where they were happy, once. where things were normal and the world was one she could understand, where evil was nothing but a boss she couldn't quite beat. 

she has tried to forget what happened. the monsters. the sounds. the fearful voices of her dad's strange colleagues telling her don't look. everything's gonna be okay. well, they lied to her.

she can't bear being alone in her room anymore, so she quietly tiptoes out to the living room's entrance, pausing before she's in her mother's line of sight from the sofa. she's scared of seeing her, of being seen, in the state they're both in. so, first, she listens.

"...you still wore your wedding ring. why? why'd you still wear your wedding ring..?" marcy's voice is soft and shaking as she speaks to someone who is not there. "i never understood you, jamie. never truly knew you. and now i never will and i don't know what to do — "

another sob. mae feels sick. she wants to hide, run back to her room and go to sleep and hope that when she wakes up it'll all be just a dream. but she knows deep down that can't happen, so she rubs her eyes and steps into the living room, careful not to startle her. her mother's sitting on the sofa, holding a pillow to her chest, tears streaming down her face, turning her father's wedding band in her fingers. atop the coffee table sits an untouched glass of water and an old mug her dad set there when he visited just days ago. mom still hasn't put it away.

"mom..." she says quietly, hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

her mother looks to her immediately - mae’s never seen her mom appear so tired before - and holds out her hand. "oh, mae, honey, come here. sit with me."

mae takes a few tentative steps forward and joins marcy on the couch, who wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, tightly, as if she might disappear. mae rests her head against her mother's shoulder. she doesn't speak, just sits. dad would do that, sometimes.

"i love you so, so much, sweetie. your dad’s... my best friend, he was always so brave and he did so much to protect you." her mom kisses the top of her head, running her hand through mae's hair. "and i will too. okay? i will. always. we're gonna be okay... we're gonna be okay..."

that sounded more like a reassurance to herself rather than her. mae only nods. she still can't find it in herself to say anything. she doesn’t know what to feel. can’t tell what she’s feeling. from her spot on the couch she eyes a picture frame above the fireplace. it's of mom and dad and little her, smiling and laughing, during some summer long past. they look so happy.

and mae... 

mae wishes she could shatter that picture into pieces.

[callilouv]

once ir reached 3am im gna plsay ml