#I’m having a time mentally and I have a lot of feelings

[wandaslittlebird]

Alright, another professor Wanda drabble because I’m utterly whipped for her.

“I think spoken Russian is going to send me to an early grave,” You complained. “I’m good on the written and comprehension sections but the oral pronunciations…” You groaned dramatically, tossing your ‘Russian 101’ book out in front of you and dropping your arms so you were laying prone on bed.

Wanda picked up the book, reading through the dog-eared page you had been studying. “Is this the one you’re struggling with?” She pointed to one of the longer words at the top of the page. It had been twisting your tongue for hours.

You nodded. Wanda placed the book back in your hands and sat down next to you. “You know all the syllables. Just say it slowly, don’t try to cram the sounds together, just say them one at a time.”

You propped yourself back up on your elbows, squinting and bending forward to study the page. You sounded out the word slowly. Each syllable felt like an entire word of its own. It was by no means an elegant attempt, but it was technically correct.

Wanda slide down on the bed so she could press a kiss onto your lower back. “See?” She said, nuzzling the downward curve of her spine. “You’re getting it. Keep going. Try this one here.” She reached around you to point out a sentence at the top of the next page.

You spoke the words awkwardly and slowly, mentally trying to translate the foreign lettering into sounds. Wanda started tracing her way back up your spine, placing gentle kisses along each ridge.

“You’re a lot better at this than you think you are,” Wanda assured. “I could’ve never guessed this was your first semester taking Russian if I wasn’t the one teaching it to you.”

“Thank you, professor,” you teased. “I believe you’re to blame for my accelerated studies.” You could feel Wanda’s smile curl against your back.

“I suppose that is my job,” She teased, “making sure you excel.”

“Well then you’ll be devastated to know I have someone who’s serving as a terrible distraction to my studies.” You smirked, arching your back against her mouth.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed. “I’m sure whoever it is knows that you work too hard. And I’d bet she knows that you’re brilliant and you could’ve passed with flying colors without even opening the book.”

“As if she herself isn’t known for working herself to the bone,” you retorted.

“All the more reason to provide her with a wonderful distraction.” Wanda bit gently at the spot your neck met your shoulder. You rolled your head back, mouth falling open in a silent groan. “We can continue your studies, if you wish. Repeat after me: YA ves' tvoy.” (I am yours.)

You reached one hand back behind you, burying it in Wanda’s thick brown hair. You drew her ruby red lips back to your neck, encouraging more kisses and nips from the older woman. “YA ves' tvoy,” you repeated with easy confidence. These words came far easier to you than the long and complicated ones you were pulling from your books.

“You speak beautifully, sweet girl.” Wanda sucked at the skin behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered at sensation.“devochka milaya,” you said. “Sweet girl.”

“Mhm.” Wanda did not pull her mouth away from the soft skin of your neck. Your words weren’t entirely accurate, as the adjective came after the noun in Russian, but she was in no mood to be pedantic at the moment.

She adjusted her position on the bed, moving to straddle your hips rather than lying beside you. You whined when she pulled away, already missing the warm breath against your neck. The whines turned into moans when Wanda ground against her hips your ass. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you are mine,” she demanded.

You obeyed. “YA ves' tvoy,” you said again. The words came even more natural the second time around. “I am yours. I am all yours, my love.”

“YA ves' tvoy, moya lyubov,” She translated, adding in the ‘my love’.

You giggled. “Do you plan to fuck me until I can recite the entirety of the Russian language?”

Wanda chuckled mischievously, bending so her mouth was mere inches from your ear. “My love, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember English.”

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : anxiety, panic, angst, fluff, overstimulation, implied age gap, pet names, budding relationship au wc : 1.5k a/n : i’m thinking about maybe making the odd prompt list, not sure if anyone would be interested? idk i feel like i have so many ideas on what to write but not enough time to actually write them. lmk if it’s something anyone would be interested in😭

you'd always hated crowded spaces, but this - this was something else entirely.

the pounding bass from the club’s speakers seemed to vibrate through your whole body, and the flashing lights made it impossible to focus on anything for too long. it was all too loud, too chaotic. the mission had been simple: blend in, keep an eye on the target, and extract information. easy enough. except no one had accounted for the fact that a telepath like you could hardly stand in the middle of a packed nightclub without being bombarded by the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions from every single person around you.

the drinks, the laughter, the flirtations happening at every corner - they were suffocating. you tried to block them out, but your mental shields were already thin, your energy worn down from the mission prep. and now, with the music and flashing lights adding to the noise in your head, everything was starting to blur together. the alcohol from earlier wasn’t helping either.

you stood near the edge of the room, trying to focus on anything other than the mental cacophony around you. the team was scattered throughout the club, everyone doing their part to blend in with the crowd. but for you, it was becoming harder to concentrate on the task at hand. the target’s thoughts were buried under a thousand others, each one screaming for attention inside your mind.

you felt sick, like the world was spinning too fast. the room was closing in. your head pounded, and you could feel a sharp nausea creeping up your throat. you needed to get out of there, away from the noise, the thoughts, the people.

a warm hand suddenly brushed against your arm, pulling you out of the spiral you were falling into. you turned, blinking, and found logan standing beside you. his sharp eyes were locked on you, concern written all over his face. he’d always been able to read you better than anyone else on the team, even without telepathy.

“you alright, kid?” his voice cut through the haze, gruff but steady. it was like an anchor, something real and solid to focus on.

you nodded quickly, though it was a lie. “i’m fine,” you muttered, but the words felt weak, shaky.

logan didn’t buy it for a second. “yeah, bullshit,” he muttered, his hand still resting on your arm, grounding you. “you’re lookin’ pale as hell. c’mon, bub.”

before you could protest, logan gently but firmly led you toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with ease. you followed, grateful for his presence. the second you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

logan guided you away from the line of people waiting to get in and toward a quieter spot around the corner of the building, far from the pounding music. the noise from inside was muffled now, and without the sea of thoughts crashing into you from all sides, your head began to clear, just a little.

“better?” logan asked, his voice softer now, though still carrying that rough edge that was so inherently him.

you nodded, taking a deep breath. “yeah… yeah, much better. thanks.”

he leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms across his chest, watching you carefully. he didn’t push, didn’t demand an explanation, but you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly that he knew something was wrong.

“it’s just... the noise in there,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “not just the music, but the people. their thoughts. it’s... it’s a lot.”

logan’s expression softened, just a little. he might not understand telepathy the way you experienced it, but he got it in his own way. he knew what it was like to have too much going on in your head, to feel overwhelmed by things out of your control.

“should’ve said somethin’,” he muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “i would’ve gotten you outta there sooner.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t want to mess up the mission.”

“the mission doesn’t matter if you’re about to pass out,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with irritation - not at you, but at the situation. “you gotta take care of yourself.”

you sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “i know. ‘s just... hard. when you’re in a place like that, and everyone’s thinking all at once, it’s like - ” you shrugged, trying to find the right words. “it’s like being underwater. you can hear everything muffled, but it’s all too much at the same time. i couldn’t block them all out.”

logan was quiet for a moment, processing what you said. then he nodded, as if he understood. “well, you’re outta there now. you don’t need to go back in. the rest of us can handle it.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “no, i can’t leave the team like that. we’re supposed to - ”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “you’ve done enough, kid. let us take it from here.” his gaze softened as he looked down at you. “besides, you ain’t leavin’ us hangin’. you’re just takin’ a breather. nothin’ wrong with that.”

you met his eyes, feeling a little less guilty under his steady gaze. he was right, of course. but it still felt wrong to step back when the rest of the team was inside, working.

“how about this,” logan added, his tone softening. “you stay out here for a bit, get your head straight, and if you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll go back in together. but only if you’re ready.”

his words made you relax a little more. the pressure to keep pushing through was gone, and the idea of taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, didn’t feel so bad when he framed it like that.

“okay,” you agreed softly. “i think... i think i need a few minutes.”

logan nodded, satisfied with your answer. he pushed away from the wall and motioned toward a nearby bench. “sit down for a sec. no rush.”

you followed him, sinking onto the bench gratefully. the fresh air felt good, like it was clearing away the fog in your mind. logan sat beside you, silent but present, his arm resting on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing your shoulder lightly.

“how do you do it?” you asked after a few minutes, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “do what?”

“stay so calm,” you murmured, staring down at your hands. “you’re always in control. even when everything’s going crazy, you just... keep it together.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you think i’m calm?”

you looked at him, a little surprised by his response. “well, yeah. you always seem like you’ve got it under control.”

logan’s gaze softened as he met your eyes. “darlin’, i ain’t always calm. most of the time, i’m just as pissed off or frustrated as the next guy. but i learned a long time ago that lettin’ it take over don’t do any good. doesn’t mean it’s easy, but... you get used to it.”

you frowned slightly, processing what he said. “so... you’re just used to it?”

“nah,” he corrected, his voice softer now. “i’m used to dealin’ with it. there’s a difference. but i had to figure that out the hard way. you’ll get there, bub. more easily i hope.”

you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. it wasn’t the same as what you were dealing with, but in a way, it felt like he understood more than anyone else on the team ever could. and the fact that he was here, sitting with you, offering quiet support, meant more than you could express.

“thanks,” you said after a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile. “for getting me out of there. for... everything.”

logan looked at you for a beat, his expression softening. “anytime,” he muttered, his voice gruff but genuine.

for a while, the two of you just sat there in the quiet, the night air cool against your skin. the noise and chaos of the club were distant now, and with logan beside you, the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that had threatened to drown you finally felt manageable.

“you ready to head back in?” logan asked after a few minutes, though his tone wasn’t pushy.

you hesitated for a second, then shook your head. “not yet.”

he smirked slightly, nodding. “good. let’s stay out here a bit longer.”

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. instead, his arm settled around you, holding you close as the night stretched on, the two of you finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

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@thugbiscuits, @rosiahills22, @cassehtwah, @whxtewolf, @mystcrium,

@bluevclvet, @angellreads, @babey-fruit-bat

[habken]

Here’s another question for your general fusion AU: whenever Izuku is fused with Katsuki—like the very very very very very first time on the way to UA’s entrance exam—what are their minds like?

I’m talking, like, the nitty gritty of their mental states, and just how different you think being two minds in one body would affect them as two people who are on… not very peaceful terms with one another, and stuff like that.

Thanks for the help! I have zero ulterior motives for asking this, I assure you >:D

chaotic and disjointed and just super confused. The fusion doesn’t understand how to refer to himself and can’t fully comprehend what actually happened. Everything is overwhelming and weird but also… they’ve got an exam to take, so he shoves that shit down to deal with later.

Unfortunately, it’s not easy to ignore two very conflicting personalities smashed together haphazardly, so the whole exam feels like he’s fighting against himself. It almost feels like two people piloting one body because of how much of a divide there is between them and all the conflicting thoughts and reactions that are fighting for dominance

I think Katsuki's personality specifically would end up shining through a lot though. Not only does Izuku see him as his "symbol of victory" but also Katsuki would Not want to do whatever plans Izuku might have. He doesn't even think Izuku should be there. Their instincts end up mixing really badly, Katsuki's brash, overzealous fighting style coupled with Izuku's anxieties cause them to trip up a bunch.

Because of this, to get through the exam, he subconsciously pushes down Izuku's feelings and it's only when they see the zero pointer and Uraraka that Izuku's instincts are allowed to take over and destroy it. Kind of like in canon, that's the first time they use one for all, and the first time Katsuki’s half actively learns about the quirk.

It feels super weird to.. become fully aware that you are in possession of one of the strongest quirks in the world?? (which previously belonged to your idol?) So a lot of feelings come up alongside that realization, like betrayal, confusion, something maybe almost like jealousy? Which is strange to feel towards yourself! But it's at that point that recovery girl comes to heal up their injuries and they pass out

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution part 2

first time for everything

series masterlist

a/n: heyy y’all!! so this is part 2 of exceeded caution. a lot of it follows the actual movie because i needed set-up for ghostface. there’s still a lot of interaction between the reader + sam & tara but some of it is from the first 30 minutes of scream vi essentially.

warnings: violence (gun usage, knife usage), cursing. he/him pronouns for ghostface.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

a few days ago, sam was nowhere near the forefront of your mind. you had stayed with the group as they navigated their way through accepting that ghostface might be back.

you hadn't spoken to tara much, you felt like you wouldn't be any help to her. she didn't need her ex-girlfriend that she only dated out of convenience around her constantly.

instead, the other carpenter sister started to find solace in your presence.

you found yourself over quite a bit, you noticed that they valued strength in numbers. you even all set a rotation between the group for who would cook that week.

during your week to cook, sam insisted on joining you when grocery shopping. as you promised her that she wouldn't be alone, she mentally promised you the same thing.

"it's just a simple beef stroganoff recipe, sam. you really don't have to come." you smiled sheepishly as you pulled up outside her apartment, she was hopping into your passenger seat.

"ghostface won't let a grocery store stop him from taking lives." sam was firm in her words, you sighed in defeat and drove off towards the shops that were only a couple minutes away from her place. you wanted her to feel safe still.

she pushed the cart while you took ingredients off the shelves, mumbling to yourself as you chucked them in the cart.

"tara used to say your food was amazing. where did you learn to cook?" she asked you, you looked away from your list to smile at her.

"my mom, she's amazing at cooking. she gave up her career to support my dad and become a fulltime housewife." you explained. "i used to help her cook all the time."

"that's pretty cool. i find myself never having the time for new foods. i should probably get on that."

"i can teach you some. or make some for you, i like cooking for people." you shrugged, taking another ingredient off the shelves.

sam would normally decline if you were anyone else, but she felt the urge to accept.

"sure. that would be nice." she nodded at you.

sam had enjoyed you being around more often and getting to know you outside of tara. she even found herself calling you a friend.

or rather, she tried to keep it at friend. she was trying to hide the fact that she felt a pull to you, she didn't know how to explain it. although, one thing was sure, there was an element of guilt to it.

she wasn’t the only one feeling guilty. you felt almost dirty with how much you thought of sam. because of the frequency of your contact, you found yourself wanting to see her more.

was this against some form of girl code that you shouldn’t want to hang out with your ex’s sister?

“um… how are you?” she could see that you were nervous to ask her that. “i know you probably get asked that all the time but i never ask… and i want to know.”

“that’s fine. i figured you would get curious. you always seem to be.” sam commented.

“is curiosity bad?” you teased a little, noting her phrasing.

“no! not at all.” she perked up, shaking her head.

“don’t worry sam, i’m joking.” you realised that the carpenter sisters weren’t used to bantering with someone they weren’t extremely close to— or someone they didn’t love.

“right.” she bit her lip. “but no? it’s not bad at all.” she chuckled. “but i’m… not okay?”

you nodded, respecting her answer and silently thanking her for being honest.

“i hoped that we would escape this when we moved. and i’ve been doing everything to protect tara but it didn’t end for sidney prescott— so i assume that it won’t end for us.” she scratched her brow, the stress getting to her. “i’m sorry you got involved.”

“it’s okay, sam. i knew what i was getting into when i dated tara.” you nodded. “if it happened again, i already knew i’d stick around.”

“that’s admirable.”

you felt your heart clench a little when she said that. nobody had ever told you that your desire to stick around was admirable. you always got “clingy” or “overbearing.” that was the first time you’d ever gotten a compliment on it.

“oh! um… thank you.” you stuttered out, a blush flooding your cheeks. you knew that sam meant it too, she wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. she was genuinely saying it.

“it’s true.” it was.

you tried to push your flustered down into the depths of your mind as you struggled to reach the top shelf with the last of your ingredients. you were definitely taller than tara— everyone was. but not tall enough to face this eight layered shelf.

sam was.

sam was taller. and she made that perfectly clear when she basically pressed up behind you to grab this damn dijon mustard for you.

oh no… oh no… you had to stop those thoughts. you had turned around too quickly, basically coming chest to chest with the girl. she didn’t seem to mind— and you refused to mind.

you had never been this close to her before. your eyes trailed over all her features, taking them in. she looked just like tara… maybe that’s whats got your heart beating at the speed of light.

but she wasn’t tara. no, she was sam. and you found that to be what sealed the deal for you.

you found her pretty.

you remained silent as you finished off the last of the ingredient collection. you walked over to the self check-out, scanning the items as the blush continued to make its presence known as sam hovered.

you shuffled some things around in your pocket to try and find your card but before you knew it, sam was paying for your groceries.

“what—“ you tried to protest but the transaction had gone through already.

sam didn’t know what overcame her.

it was her way of taking care of you.

it was even her way of apologising to you.

"sam, you didn't have to do that." you shook your head at her.

"my treat, i didn't get to cook for everyone so this is my way of contributing." she shook you off. you knew that was a lie because mindy sent you a photo of meals you missed, one being sam's.

there was no undoing it now. you sighed and reached for the bags, but sam was one step ahead of you, grabbing them and walking out of the store.

you wished you could wash the blush off with soap.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

when you arrived for dinner with your groceries. everyone was already at the carpenter’s apartment. they were spread out across the entire floor, conversing with each other.

you got to cooking almost immediately, knowing that everyone had potentially been there for a while. sam left your side to talk to quinn.

you kept feeling eyes on you.

the shorter carpenter sister was talking to mindy when she felt her attention turn away from her and onto you. she watched you cook, she actually always loved your cooking.

she loved when you would make a dinner catered just to her. she actually missed how lively the kitchen used to be when you were in it. you were even dancing around now, your headphones tucked over your ear.

she smiled a little at how you shook your waist to the music. everyone knew not to bother you so you could get it done quicker.

but tara wanted to bother you. she wanted to approach you and say something, anything to break the silence.

you were friends before everything went down. she thought that maybe she could at least salvage that, that would be her way to redemption.

mindy kept talking and talking before cutting herself off suddenly, realising that tara was no longer paying attention.

“tara, don’t.” mindy said, disappointment clear in her tone. “this is something you need to give time to.”

“there’s been a lot of time.” tara muttered, glaring at mindy.

“you can’t just break her heart and expect her to let you back in so quickly.” mindy held her shoulder back.

“i know it won’t be quick, but i have to try.” tara said through her teeth, pulling her shoulder out of mindy’s grasp and starting to make her way towards you.

tara stopped on her heels when she saw her sister already take your attention. she thought that she’d better not interrupt you.

“whatcha listening to?” sam asked you, her arms crossed over her chest.

you pulled your headphones back a little.

“sloppy jane.” you said.

“sloppy jane? what kind of name is that?!” sam laughed.

“she’s cool! i promise!” you raised your hands up in defense. you took your headphones off your head, you gently placed them on sam. your hands nicking strands of her long hair before you pulled them away.

she held eye contact with her as her head bobbed to the music, you matched the bobbing, knowing which part of the song she was on.

a smile formed on her face while you two were in sync. your eyes started to crinkle up with a smile as your hair started getting in your face when you headbanged. she joined you until the kitchen was filled with laughter.

“okay… okay. i see it now. she has a good sound.” sam agreed with you, placing the headphones back on you but leaving an ear open.

“thank you.” you chuckled, moving the beef strips into the bowl you intended to serve it in.

“this smells soooo good.” sam practically moaned out, you laughed at the noise she made.

“well, you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else!” you teased.

she groaned and rolled her eyes. you liked seeing her loosen up a bit more, you were grateful she was getting more comfortable around you.

as you two laughed, tara stared on.

she remembered when she was in sam’s place. she even felt herself grow jealous at her sister. why did she ever think that what she was doing to you was okay? your heart was gold and tara thought she had turned it dark— she realised your golden heart’s integrity never faltered. you were still just as good.

she was cruel and she broke your heart. she didn’t think she would regret it— until she suddenly felt all that guilt wash over her. was she regretting it?

you enlisted sam to help you bring all your dishes to the table.

“beef stroganoff, pasta, and rice. choose your carb to go with it and enjoy!” you presented your meal to the group.

everyone admired your work and sat down at the table. you ended up sitting beside mindy who talked your ear off about some pottery class that she and anika took.

you glanced over at sam first, her eyes meeting yours during her conversation with ethan. you two exchanged heartfelt smiles, you had a good day because of each other.

then you looked at tara, who was already looking at you. her first serving was practically gone. you knew that she loved one thing about you, and it was your cooking. she held a sadness behind those eyes, you saw into it, but you had your doubts that it was sadness.

when you noticed her plate, you felt yourself flash her a smile too. she returned it, it was shy but still genuine. her plate was cleaned up just seconds after everyone served themselves.

crumbs of you, tara would take. she cherished that smile you gave to her, even if it was forced or accidental. it filled her brain.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

washing up had to be done, you wanted do it yourself, saying how you were on a roll from cooking that you wanted to do the cleaning too.

sam was about to speak up but suddenly, tara found her voice.

“i’ll help!” she said, chirping up. everyone looked at her with confusion. they didn’t expect that she would do that for you.

“oh… okay!” you said, making your way over to the kitchen.

you scrubbed the plates and handed them to her to dry. it was a good system that worked.

“you did well with dinner today. your cooking is always good.” tara smiled at you.

“thank you, tara. i appreciate it.” your lips pressed into a thin line.

“i just wanted to say that.” she put the plates onto the drying rack. “we haven’t spoken in a while.”

“i know. i just wanted to give you space. i felt like i wasn’t much help to you ever. and i felt like i wouldn’t be much help now.” you confessed. “but i want to stick around, i would be a pretty shit person if i didn’t.”

she felt horrible that you thought that you wouldn’t be help. in fact, there were some nights that tara found herself longing for you.

“we were friends before this, do you think we’d be able to get back to that?” she asked, searching your face for hope. but all she saw was doubt.

“maybe, tara.” you turned to her, handing her the last of the dishes. you saw the dejected look on her face and sighed. you wanted to go back to that too, you missed the tara that was a good friend to you. “but we can try.”

tara’s face lit up, a bit of shock also hidden between the lines. “okay! yeah… let’s try.” she put the dish away and held her hand out, you chuckled but you shook it.

what you failed to see was your maybe friend’s sister staring at you both from the living room, her jaw tightened as tara touched you.

sam zoned back into the conversation, realising that the show they were watching was long gone and replaced by the news again.

there was another death.

sam erupted in her anger, suddenly storming into the kitchen, grabbing the sharpest knife that she owned.

you had no idea what just happened, tara followed her sister back to the living room, the commotion having everyone sit up.

“sam! slow down!” tara yelled after her sister, you joined them after putting the dishes away. “can we please think about this before you decide to abandon my college education?!”

you couldn’t blame sam for wanting to leave. this was something that she just wanted to escape. as much as you would be upset, you would understand. you’d help, even.

you would help them pack up if it meant they were away from everything. you were prepared to never speak of the carpenter sisters again, in hopes that they would never have to go through this again.

“this can’t just be a coincidence, tara!” sam yelled back at her. today was the day where you saw the genetic stubbornness displayed by the carpenter sisters.

“quinn, can you please call your dad?!” tara asked their roommate, quinn immediately nodded. you could tell she didn’t want to get yelled at by sam but it was a reasonable point of action.

ring!!!

everyone flinched. you didn’t. it was just a phone ringing to you, but to everyone else, it was so much more.

sam’s phone blared on the table, she walked over only to see that it was gale weathers, she declined the call without a doubt.

you watched as quinn travelled across the room, telling sam that her father wanted to speak to her. you heard the muffled voice of mr. bailey from where you were standing.

“okay, thank you. i’ll be right there.” sam hung up. “he wants me down at the station.”

“i’ll drive you.” you said, grabbing your keys. “i live close to the station.”

“you shouldn’t have to—“ you cut sam off.

“no. i will. no man left behind, remember?” you said, firm in your decision. sam sighed but nodded.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you, sam, and tara made it out the door and started to walk to your car.

suddenly, sam’s phone rang again. the two girls stopped when they saw the name displayed on the screen.

richie kirsch.

richie? you recognized that name. you huddled closer to the sisters, closing your eyes to rack your memory for where you knew that name.

no. wait.

it couldn’t be. he was dead, wasn’t he?

“don’t pick that up.” tara said, looking up at sam.

sam hesitated, but it could be important. these calls were life or death for them. she picked up.

you looked at your surroundings. you suddenly felt so exposed, like anything could happen to you now that you weren’t in the comforts of your own home— or anyone’s home.

“who is this?” sam asked into the phone. you couldn’t hear the responses, only sam’s facial expressions changing as time went on.

her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes changed. you saw woodsboro glaze her pupils, you knew she was thinking back to her life before the city. everything was resurfacing.

“i want you to think long and hard about whether or not you wanna do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead.” she said, planting her feet down with determination.

your eyes started to tear away from sam, not absorbing the conversation.

bad gut feeling.

you had to stop ignoring those.

“you better watch your back, asshole.” sam said.

and tara yelled.

a cloaked figure sporting a ghostface mask suddenly grabbed tara, you sprung into action. tara elbowed the figure and you shoved him into the bike rack.

“go!” you said, running just behind the two sisters.

“there!” sam redirected you into a little corner store. you stood with your front to the door while the girls yelled at the cashier to help them, starting a fight with someone in line.

suddenly ghostface walked in.

you backed up into sam, pushing her backwards a little bit while one of the customers stood tall in front of the infamous killer.

you watched as ghostface drove their knife into the man, multiple times.

you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. you had never seen anyone get killed before. you thought ghostface had specific targets, this wasn’t just an ordinary killer, this killer wasn’t afraid to take any life that stood in his way.

you turned around and the three of you flooded into the back of the store as the clerk wielded his gun.

when the first gunshot rang, sam’s arm flew to cover you as chips flew everywhere. tara was crouched just beside the two of you.

suddenly, there was a second gunshot. but only after you heard the clerk start begging for his life.

you tried to stay quiet, you didn’t realise where parts of your body were. you had a hand on sam’s abdomen, bunching her shirt into your fist. you were terrified, you had never gone through this before. you couldn’t imagine what sam & tara were feeling.

you couldn’t move— or else he would know where you were.

the corner store was quiet, it was like a cruel game of cat and mouse. you heard crunching as the sound of boots got closer to you.

all three of you rounded the corner to avoid detection. sam hid behind a freezer while you and tara hid behind the shelving. you saw sam’s eyes flicker to a can on the ground and you knew what she was trying to say.

carefully, you reached out and picked the can off the floor. it was disgusting and sticky. was this what they had to result to when defending themselves? putting themselves in disgusting situations? you felt twisted picturing them going through this once— now twice.

you threw the can across the corner store, hearing boots walk in the other direction. it was a successful distraction. the three of you started crawling towards the exit.

when you heard the boots stop moving again, you paused. sam leaned forward, you could tell that she could see a lot clearer than you. she slowly inched towards the shelving, then she suddenly shoved it with her shoulder, knocking it down.

god, she was strong.

had she been training herself to get stronger? in case this happened again?

the three of you hauled ass to the exit, being met with cop cars and their sirens.

the three of you were escorted into the cars. the sisters rode in one while you went in the other. you fidgeted with your fingers. then it was daunting on you.

baby’s first ghostface attack.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you sat in an interrogation room at the precinct. the walls were closing in on you.

you had been close to death before. you remember when you and your parents got into that gnarly car accident that had you coming out with several broken bones and whiplash. you cradled your arm, feeling the after-effects of the worst injury you sustained.

but this wasn't a car t-boning yours. this was a killer.

and you felt like death was kissing your cheek.

you didn't know where sam and tara were, you assumed a different interrogation room. you were waiting for ages, you thought that maybe someone was attending to them first.

you sat in silence for about ten more minutes, trying to decompress the situation.

the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing detective bailey. you had met quinn's dad in passing, never really speaking to him.

"mr. bailey. how are you?" you asked him, sitting up in your chair. you noticed he had files in his hand. this was going to take longer than you wanted.

"i'm good. thank you... how are you doing? you weren't around for woodsboro, i'm sure it's a bit of a shock to be involved now." straight into it.

"a bit is an understatement, sir." you let out a dry chuckle. "i'm assuming you're going to be asking me more than just 'how are you' though..."

"i'm sorry. i know you're probably tired." he sighed, you nodded. you were trying to hold back a yawn.

"it's fine."

he sat down across from you, opening the file and putting its contents in front of you.

"you're the newest addition to the group, quinn has talked about you. i know you and tara had a past relationship. were you frequently in and out of their apartment?" he asked.

"yeah... tara and i were together for a bit. i usually visited her and i also hang out with mindy and chad, so yes, i was frequently at theirs." you nodded, you often found that honesty was the best policy with these things.

"i know that your relationship with her ended badly." he stated, you scoffed.

"surely a bad break-up isn't enough motivation to go on these killing sprees, right?" you asked, a bit offended.

"sometimes it might just be."

"did you have access to sam carpenter's belongings?" he followed up. what did sam's stuff have to do with this?

"um... no. not really. i never really interacted with sam until ghostface was rumored to resurface. and even then, i don't really have that access." you crossed your arms across your chest, your eyes scanning the photos on the desk. you spotted a photo of sam's license, bloodied and dumped at the scene of the crime.

someone was trying to frame her.

"we found sam's license next to the body."

"well she was with me all day. we went grocery shopping and i cooked everyone dinner." you quickly jumped at the chance to defend her. "tara was there too."

mr. bailey nodded at you confirming their alibi.

"sam said the same thing." he reassured you. he leaned in a bit closer to you. "although, i'd be cautious about those sisters. especially sam. i wouldn't get too close."

your brows furrowed in frustration.

"i'm sure i have nothing to worry about. they're good people." you didn't want to speak any further on the matter.

you hated that the thought of either of them being responsible for these deaths even crossed the detective's mind. he was supposed to be helping them.

two knocks against the door turned the detective's attention to another officer walking into the room.

"the fbi is here." the officer said. detective bailey looked confused.

"the fbi? where?" he stood up then turned to you. "you're free to go. i think sam and tara are waiting for you."

you stood from your seat and followed him, making your way over to the two dark-haired sisters. tara was the first to spot you, nudging sam until she turned around.

you sped up, you didn't know what it was. you just had to make sure she was real.

you wrapped your arms around sam. you felt her tense up out of shock but return the gesture.

"i'm sorry." you apologised for the sudden hug.

"it's okay." sam smiled warmly.

you turned to tara and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

tara's eyes met yours. those pleading doe eyes, they wanted more than just a squeeze on the shoulder. she wished she was sam in that moment.

"i'm really glad you two are okay." you cleared your throat. sam smiled at you, even if it was forced, it was nice to see.

you heard two voices chatting just a little bit aways from you. sam started moving towards them, you and tara followed behind.

"kirby?" she spoke, getting the attention of a blonde woman.

"hey sam." kirby replied, moving to hug sam as well.

"do you know each other?" bailey asked.

"yeah... we went to woodsboro high together. she was a senior when i was a freshman." sam clarified. you studied the woman in front of you.

all you could say was that she looked cool. she was an fbi agent that had been monitoring the sisters for a little while. you realised that this had been the kirby involved with the killings too. they shared a very unique experience between each other.

you stayed behind sam while they conversed. kirby was handed the mask that was left at the scene. the mask used in the 2011 killings. kirby lifted her shirt to show the scar that charlie walker gave her.

sam looked uncomfortable. she realised then that this was bigger than just a killing spree, they were trying to send a message.

kirby proposed you all worked together but sam interjected, not giving her the chance to finish.

"we're getting out of town." she pushed through kirby and detective bailey.

"i'm sorry, that's not possible. you're both persons of interest. all three of you are." bailey warned.

"are you serious?" tara stepped forward, the growing frustration evident in her voice.

"he's right." kirby confirmed. "but if we work together-"

"we're going." sam basically barked an order at you and tara.

"my car's back at your place." you said. sam nodded. a small part of her brain was happy that you would be around after that.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

when the three of you made your way out of the precinct, you had never seen so many cameras before. reporters swarmed the three of you, immediately asking sam questions like if she had an alibi or if tara felt safe with her sister.

they didn't pay you any mind, how could they? you were fresh meat to the group, they didn't care about your story. luckily, it allowed you to mercilessly shove them back, helping make space for sam and tara to walk through the flood.

you found yourself holding onto sam's waist, pulling her towards the open spots you've created with your body pushing against the reporters.

"gale weathers." a voice sounded out in the crowd, causing the sisters to stop in their tracks. you knew that name too, it felt like an endless revision on who was who, if you had studied well enough. "do you ladies think that you're the reason that the ghostface killer has come to the big apple?" she asked.

you saw it in sam. she snapped. she'd had a long night, she nearly lost her life. she nearly lost her sister. and her... friend.

she swung with her fist out.

"sam!" you exclaimed as gale ducked, avoiding the punch. you pulled sam's waist back, you knew she didn't need another video of her going viral. she put her hands over yours, allowing you to hold her back. you had to admit, it felt nice knowing you had a bit of pull on her.

although, you failed to account for the shorter carpenter sister. you failed to catch her pulling her elbow back and swinging at gale with a force of her own.

you jumped at the noise made by the contact and had to hold back a laugh at gale's shocked face. sam cracked a smile, she couldn't help herself.

"stay away from us." tara spat at gale.

you two turned to walk towards a cab that was parked outside the station. you pushed sam slightly by her waist, hoping she wouldn't turn back around.

but gale weathers just had to say something.

"are you two seriously still mad about what happened?"

"you wrote a book. about them." she didn't expect you to say anything. she didn't know who you were or what you were to the carpenters. she looked at you as if you were irrelevant, like another body that ghostface could dispose of just to raise the numbers.

"and who are you?" she asked, a snark in her voice.

"doesn't matter. you took advantage of them. of the fact that they lost their friends, they nearly lost each other." you shook your head. "i remember you, from tara's stories."

tara watched you fight back. how could you still do that after she hurt you? you were full of surprises. she had never seen your tongue so laced with venom before.

"you lost someone too. dewey... if someone kept shoving that down your throat, how would you feel?" you asked, glaring her way as sam and tara entered the cab. gale's stance shifted, she was uncomfortable with a stranger knowing so much information about her personal life. but then again, she put the carpenter sisters' life out there for the whole world to see.

"i remember your book too. you called sam unstable, you painted her in the worst light possible. and i thought you had been through enough with her to know that that's not true." you turned back to the two girls, opening the door to the back of the cab for them.

sam's face was unreadable as she hopped into the car. she stared at the back of your head, or more like the back of your seat. you stood up for her, breaking your kind and golden-hearted demeanour. she was worried that being in this situation would change you for the worst.

you sat in silence after telling the driver where to go. leaning back into your seat, you tried to keep your eyes open. you hadn't gotten any sleep since last night, your time divided between the carpenter residence and the station.

there was so little to say and yet so many words were jumbled in your brain.

when you arrived at the carpenter's apartment, you yawned as you exited the cab. sam caught you do so and stopped you before you could unlock your car. her hand covered yours, gripping it in her own.

"you should rest here for a little bit. you're too tired to drive." she said, looking down at you. you wanted to get home and sleep in your own bed but you knew she was right.

you put your car keys away and walked upstairs with them.

tara immediately made a beeline for the bathroom. she always showered after coming home, she couldn't go a day without smelling like vanilla.

sam put pillows and blankets down on their couch and walked into her room, coming back out with some clothes.

"you can change into these for now, you might as well make yourself comfortable. and you can sleep for as long as you want." she said, you took the clothes and nodded at her.

she sat down on the couch and pulled the blanket up slightly to cover herself, you grabbed the blanket to stop her.

"what are you doing? i'll take the couch." you said, furrowing your brows.

"no. you'll take my bed." she looked up at you from the couch.

"it's your damn bed, sam." you didn't mean to sound so ill-mannered but the tiredness was getting the best of you.

"i know. so i'll do with it as i please." you know it was just her trying to show that she cared. "so you're taking it."

you sighed sharply, you were about to take a massive risk.

"share it with me." you said, holding your ground. you didn't want to kick sam out of her own bed.

she saw the determination on your face. you two were going to sit here and bicker if she didn't give in now. she nodded, standing up and making her way back to her room.

you changed into sam's clothes, her scent wafting as the shirt fell over your figure. then you cracked the door open enough to slip yourself into her room.

just as you entered sam's room, tara came out of the bathroom. she had the look of a shattered woman on her face, you should have been going into her room. she should have offered first.

you shut the door behind you, walking towards the bed where sam was sitting. you spotted her nursing her hand, spotting a deep cut from crawling on glass at the bodega.

"sam, you should've gotten that taken care of." you scolded her a little, walking to her bathroom and grabbing a medkit you knew was there. tara had told you that she put one in every bathroom.

you knelt in front of sam, unpacking the kit to grab the antiseptic and a bandage.

"it's fine, it's only a cut." she protested.

"if ghostface doesn't get you, an infected cut will. and i think that's extremely embarrassing." you tried to make light of it, your exhaustion washing over you. "this'll hurt."

you dabbed the antiseptic into sam's cut. she hissed at the sting. but the sight in front of her was better. you, in her clothes, patching her up. this was probably the worst time for her to form a crush, and probably the worst person to form it on. her sister's ex-girlfriend, who was now involved in the ghostface killings. but your soft features, your concern for her, it was hard to resist you.

she chalked it up to exhaustion, maybe this crush would fade away when she was in her right mind.

but when you situated yourself next to her in bed, your respectful nature forcing you to leave ample space so you two weren't touching each other, she hoped that she would one day earn the honour of closing that gap.

as she closed her eyes, she listened in to your soft breathing. and even when you accidentally ended up shoulder to shoulder in bed,

sam refused to move.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

author's journal okay i actually spent way too much time on this chapter, i had to write out the first 30 minutes of scream vi with a reader insert so it was a little bit more cohesive with the storyline. i don't know how i feel about this one chapter in particular but i'm starting to see the vision for the rest of the series teehee. i promise it wont just be the whole movie written down but it'll definitely have canon events. next chapter is most likely going to be non-canon as much as possible just cause this is a romance fic at the end of the day.

also this is the song i intended for the reader to be listening to with sam

[jingledbells]

i feel like a lot of the people who're saying 'stan would treat him better' are not really understanding a lot of his character. i literally saw someone describe him as 'really sweet' and 'a gentleman' and I'm like. no???? first off I just don't think he would be in a romantic relationship during this time period, he's really traumatized and emotionally damaged at this point but he doesn't really. have a lot of space to really think about his situation or reflect because he has to keep up and stand in as ford while he works to get him back and in general its just. a lot yk. another thing is that he's canonically really terrible with romantic relationships in general. there's something in particular about the thing he had with lazy Susan and the sort of. internalized amatonormativity surrounding that, about how he liked the idea of being in a relationship but. didn’t actually want to. but a lot of his canon relationships aren’t really the best/end well. Of course this doesn’t actually have to mean anything in particular but given his past history with relationships I just. don’t think a romantic relationship especially at this point in time would work out. a lot of people think if he had a relationship with fiddleford it would be healthier than fiddauthor and I’m just like….no??? ok first off Stan is kind of a major dick to fiddleford in canon I’m pretty sure he ran him over with his car multiple times on purpose maybe(correct me if I’m wrong I apologize). I think people also forget that at this point in time fiddleford is entering/beginning a stage in his life where he is just at his absolute worst. he’s literally in his evil cultist era and assuming that he’s unaware that Stan is pretending to be ford I don’t think fiddleford would try to reconnect with him at this point. his goal right now is to protect the town from ford via sotbe and he does NOT trust him at all. I think Stan and fiddleford interactions would be fiddleford watching him thinking he was ford and getting into physical fights maybe but just ending with a confused Stan and fiddleford running off like an angry wounded animal. but like. say they were in a relationship at one point, romantic or non romantic, I don’t think it would end well or go well both of them are incredibly mentally unstable and would not be good for each other at all especially fiddleford and I don’t think he would be trusting of Stan at all and would probably end up using the memory gun on him a lot.

and yes ford and fiddlefords relationship was unhealthy and toxic at points and ford defintley treated him unfairly at points but I feel like people forget a lot of it was because of bills manipulation and his succeeding attempts to isolate ford from fidds because keep in mind he loved and respected him and viewed him as an equal and wanted him to be there !! he was so excited to see him and share his adventures with him and just. A lot of it was not his fault, yk??

[cyberbrained]

Schwein Interview: Part 1 — Atsushi Sakurai / Rockin'F (June 2001)

There were different troubles, this time it was a fight with myself

Part 1 — Atsushi Sakurai interview Interviewer: Yoshiyuki Oono scans: tigerpal @ dreamwidth/livejournal

I thought everything would work out if I let my natural flavor spill freely in Japanese

Did you write the lyrics based on the compositions? Sakurai: That’s right. First, around last autumn, six compositions written by Sascha and Raymond were completed. The songs’ structure was well done, vocals and chorus were added. Although there were also vocals by Lucia [Cifarelli] in the song Porno, I was told “Please, Atsushi, add melodies and lyrics however you like here.” Generally that was the feeling. So, regarding the recording itself, from starting work on the songs, ideas came in more and more; times when we were told, “I’m entrusting you with everything,” increased. Hence, being given freedom in working, this became a collaboration.

Did you discuss the content of the lyrics with Raymond and co.? Sakurai: I did. Although I was told, “Please do whatever you like,” too many mental images were off so talking about the title and Raymond’s connotations gave me a hint for the lyrics.

This time unusual alcohol and women came up in the lyrics. Are those motifs Raymond held? Sakurai: Perhaps I should say it was simultaneous [between us]…

Like you recorded while drinking? Sakurai: There was that too (laugh). What Raymond said and the things I myself hold were rather close. “What can I do, I wonder?” When it was time to talk seriously, if I thought about what’s coming to mind, it was all things I like. Alcohol and women (laugh). But even though I liked the words that came first, I wondered what my specialty is. When there is time I would sugarcoat [my ideas] but this time around that kind of thing wasn’t needed. Working in a band up to now, sometimes I’d add things to myself that weren’t necessarily there [in me], so returning to myself like this allowed me to be myself.

Has there been an opinion among the members of Buck-Tick that “This Acchan now is very relaxed,” recently? Sakurai: This time, participating in this album, even though third parties could look at me closely, I was never aware of that. Regarding everyday life, I wasn’t thinking stuff like, “Let’s proceed calmly.”

This time there are lyrics coexisting in Japanese, English, and German. Were you worried about the distinction between each word? Sakurai: Frankly, I thought Japanese would be hard to fit in. I sang after Raymond did and there were times when things felt out of place. But if we’d stopped there nothing would have even started. Based on what I'm capable of doing, I thought everything would work out if I let my natural flavor spill freely in Japanese. My own singing, Sascha, Lucia, and Raymond’s vocals too, everyone’s sound would be captured. But it was definitely complicated because Japanese, which comes across direct, appeared suddenly.

What about the parts sung in German and English? Sakurai: Isn’t it brief really? I just did chorus and unison. Initially I didn’t think I’d be doing chorus in English, since there were a lot of people who could be entrusted with it. Symbolically, there were three people who could sing in English.

In Schwein there’s rap-like Japanese, German vocals have entered, that great sense of language is interesting, right? Sakurai: Sascha sang those. Basically, the lyrics he’d written were translated and then fitting lyrics were created [in addition]. I couldn’t get a precise conclusion from the translation, so I asked, “What atmosphere would it be?” and after that I started getting more mental images. That kind of feeling.

I had the conviction to work since “I’ve been given the other members’ compositions”

Isn’t it interesting how Schwein is reaping your style and everything you’ve done with Buck-Tick until now, like with Crown’s equalizing, Spank the Monkey’s part with the stacked double vocals? Sakurai: The engineers were first-timers; I could only give my abilities as a raw ingredient. There was an engineer called Russel [Kearney]; I told him, “Russel, you’re the chef. Handle it as you like[1].” After that we tried out many things, it was fun. There weren’t misses.

I listened to your vocals and there wasn’t anything out of place at all. Sakurai: I wondered if I could deliver in the gaps between the other vocals, but I wasn’t worried at all.

Then, what was your approach with Schwein? Sakurai: I had the conviction to work since “I’ve been given the other members’ compositions,” so there wasn’t any holding back. Raymond and Sascha’s experience and strengths brought out the best in me.

Who created the melody lines? Sakurai: Raymond and Sascha were in charge, Imai’s compositions are his own. With four people the melodies were well considered.

Conversely, how many songs did you devise the melody for?[2] Sakurai: Well, the one where I did things selfishly however I liked was Fantasia. I did the verse my way and the chorus’ melody came to me too… Then, Spank The Monkey’s chorus, Lard, Lips, Liquor’s melody, and for Organzola’s[3] duet part I was free to do whatever I liked.

How is your approach with Schwein different from that with Buck-Tick? Sakurai: Until now, although the composer had created the melody perfectly, this time whether it was the songs or the album as a whole, I couldn't easily imagine. Also, I wondered how far it would be good to go, how far I could go, but there wasn’t hesitation. That’s why, honestly, the feeling of collaborating and being free to do as I pleased with the melodies were first [in importance]. The singing itself was the same as always but regarding feelings I was able to keep the high tension for a month. There were different troubles and, thinking about it deeply, this time it was a fight with myself.

—

Notes:

[1]He called him コック, which means chef (in this case), because he did a pun on cooking in Japanese. I didn’t keep it in English out of fear it would sound unserious (of me). “Cook it up however you like” is what I would’ve gone with and in that case this note would read “Yes, he really said that.” Also...that word's other meaning had me loling hard at that bit at first glance.

[2]Sakurai isn’t credited with any compositions for Schwein. I suppose what they mean here is more along the lines of where his input was heavier.

[3]Re: Organzola as a title word (because idk when I’ll make it there with my speed): later in this interview (under Sascha’s part, which is the fourth and final part), it’s explained it’s a mashup of Organ, the English word + Gorgonzola, the Italian cheese, which apparently equals...g3n1tal organs. ...well, idk about you but I'm glad to learn this so many years later lmao

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

FOUR

FIVE

You put on a dress your mother gave you some time ago, one she called the "husband-catcher," telling you to wear it when you wanted someone special’s attention. Well, for tonight’s dinner, you want Steve Rogers' attention on you. You leave your hair down, choose the least uncomfortable pair of heels you could find at the last minute, apply light makeup, and a slightly bold red lipstick. You add a necklace that complements your neckline. Honestly, you feel like a seductive spy heading on a mission. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, but as you look at yourself in the mirror, you try to convince yourself that you can fool the handsome Rogers.

Grabbing your bag, you lock the door to your apartment, wave to the camera Barnes installed at the entrance, and head out for your meeting with Steve. It doesn’t take long to reach the restaurant on foot, as it's just across from your bakery. One of the perks of living close to work. From a distance, you spot Steve Rogers, sitting at one of the outside tables. He’s dressed in an elegant navy blue suit, his hair neatly in place with not a strand out of order, and his beard freshly trimmed. This man knows how to dress for a date — though this will be more of an interrogation.

"You take my breath away, Y/N. If your plan was to distract me with your charm, it’s already working," Steve says the moment he sees you approaching. You try to exude as much sex appeal as possible, making sure the slit in your dress is on full display while offering him a gentle smile.

"I believe you think I value your opinion on many matters. But thank you for the compliment, I do try to perfect my charm when I'm about to be interrogated by a stranger regarding someone he assumes I know." You respond boldly, watching as Steve pulls out the chair for you to sit. After settling into your seat and adjusting your bag, you realize you're actually sitting in a restaurant with a very handsome man. Your cheeks grow warm, which feels odd given how cool the evening is.

"You know Bucky, it’s only a matter of time before you admit it. I’d even bet you saw him before this meeting. That’s why you closed your bakery early, and don’t tell me it was just to get ready for our date. You look stunning, but I’m not an idiot. What did he tell you to do? Lie outright, I’m sure of it." Steve seems to know Barnes all too well, sounding completely convinced that he’s uncovered everything you’ve been hiding. You take a sip of water, trying to calm yourself.

"It's astounding how you think admitting to being a stalker is somehow better than understanding that I have no idea who the hell your friend is. Yes, he may have been a customer of mine. If you haven’t noticed, I serve a lot of people—including you. And as much as you don't deserve it, I closed my bakery early because I needed to prepare myself, not just by putting on a nice dress and makeup, but mentally. This is the first date I've had since I lost my trust in men. If you want to know why, it's because my fiancé cheated on me with my best friend. The week of our wedding. If you want more details, I smashed a vase over his head, he had to get over five stitches, and it was the first time I got arrested. He dropped the charges afterward because he felt guilty. Since then, I've been focusing on my bakery. So, tell me, smart guy—are you satisfied?" You speak with a certain flair, feigning near tears as you recount the story. You're lying, of course, about several details, but the performance is convincing enough.

Steve extends his hand across the table, gently holding yours and caressing it. You look at him with teary eyes while he gazes back at you like you're a lost puppy. "Where did Barnes find you? Until now, I thought you were just a regular bakery owner, but you're something else. If you tell me you know how to use a weapon, I’ll personally see to it that you become an agent." He laughs right after, clearly amused by your act.

You sigh in frustration, pulling your hand away from his, but he grabs it again, moving his chair closer to yours. He then pulls your neck towards him to whisper into your ear, "I'm starting to enjoy your lies. You can keep feeding them to me, but I’d prefer if you cut the nonsense and told me something real."

"I haven’t been fucked in almost a year. Am I lying or telling the truth?" You give up trying to fool Steve and decide to shift the conversation. You're still holding his gaze when the waiter clears his throat to get both of your attention. Your eyes dart away from Steve's as you straighten up in your chair, adjusting yourself. Rogers, too, composes himself, though he’s still chuckling at the situation.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for the interruption, but I would like to know if you are ready to place your order. For today, the merlot paired with the chef's special pizza is highly recommended,” the waiter says politely, clearly embarrassed.

"We'll go with your recommendation," Steve replies with a broad smile, as if he’s having the time of his life. What a complete idiot. The waiter notes down the order and quickly heads off to fetch the wine, leaving you and Rogers alone again.

"You saw he was coming over and didn't warn me on purpose, right?" you ask, a bit furious, looking at him as if you could kill him.

"Let’s say I didn’t see him coming, just like you don’t know Bucky. But let’s get back to the main topic; you haven’t had a sexual partner for quite some time. Tell me, why did you share that with me?" Steve speaks seductively, looking at you as if you are something he treasures.

"Because that’s the reason for all of this, right? Not to find your friend, but to try to seduce me so I’d let you sleep with me. Of course, all in the name of you thinking you’ll find your friend. You want to find him so badly that you came here on a date with me instead of going to look for him. Admit it, you don’t want to be wrong about me knowing Barnes, because if I don’t know him, you’ve got nothing. You’ve wasted your time trying to get into my pants. Also, you don’t need to be formal when discussing my lack of sex. I haven’t fuck with anyone for a while. In fact, I might be manipulating you to seduce you and then discard you. Have you thought about that?" You try to be more straightforward among the lies and deceitful words. You just want to see if you can hit a nerve with Steve Rogers to convince him of something. Even if it’s that you’re a woman desperate for his cock.

“Dance with me?” Steve suddenly asks, catching you off guard. You look at him, trying to understand what he means. There's no music playing, and the waiter is about to serve the wine. But something tells you this is a test, so when he extends his hand toward you, you take it firmly. He places his phone on the table, and an instrumental melody begins to play. He then presses his body against yours, one hand holding yours and the other resting on your waist.

He leads you with confidence, your bodies swaying to the music. At one point, it feels less like dancing and more like a silent battle to see who will give in first. Steve’s hands grip the contours of your dress, almost reaching your backside. Your hand wraps around his neck, your head resting close to his chest, allowing you to catch a whiff of his cologne—a woody scent that feels almost comforting, like a warm embrace.

"You’re right, I know your friend. Lying is just pure foolishness, and I can't take it anymore. In fact, I know him quite well. He was a secret crush of mine, not just a mere customer. The days he came into the bakery were the brightest. He’d order an espresso and the fresh bread I was testing the recipe for. I would come in early just to be ready when he arrived. I waited for months to find out his name, even though I knew he preferred savory over sweet, that he probably has a fluffy white cat, that he enjoys reading The Hobbit, and that he never paid me any mind. That’s why I denied knowing him; I feel pathetic saying all this. Like a silly teenage girl hoping to be noticed by the guy she finds attractive. And that’s all I have to say about him. He doesn’t know who I am, but I know who he is. I’d recognize him even in a crowd. " Your voice trembles, a mix of embarrassment and pretense, almost as if you feel utterly humiliated. It’s not a complete lie; it probably won’t work, but you have to try. Steve won’t give up easily if he doesn’t have part of the truth. And that’s what he’ll get from you—a fragment of the truth.

The waiter brings the pizza, interrupting the small world you and Steve had created during the dance. Both of you feel a bit embarrassed for being caught, but without saying much, you sit back at the table, allowing the waiter to serve you. The pizza is flavorful, but Steve seems distracted, still processing your ridiculous confession of love for Barnes. His usual confident demeanor falters for a moment as he picks at the food, clearly thinking over what you just said. The tension lingers, not from suspicion anymore but from the awkward truth you've offered.

"Since you've finally decided to tell me the truth, now tell me: when was the last time you saw James Barnes?" The crucial question is asked, almost as if it were another test. Between bites of pizza and sips of wine, you feel the need to reveal something to him. But if you tell the truth, Barnes could be at risk. He would be furious.

"The last time I saw him was…" You were just about to reveal the truth to Steve, realizing the mistake you were making when the sudden sound of a gunshot drew your attention. The bullet shattered your wine glass, leaving you horrified. The second shot was even closer to Steve, hitting his arm. Without much thought, you immediately drop to the floor, rushing over to Steve, who is pressing on his wound. You can hear people screaming in panic from inside the restaurant.

"What is so important that it's taking you this long to find?" you ask impatiently, panic rising inside you. You're more scared for Steve than he seems to be. Finally, he pulls out his car keys along with his wallet from his pocket. He places the money for the bill and tip on the table, then presses the car key into your hand. His grip is firm, and you're horrified when you see his blood smearing onto your skin from his hand.

"Y/N, I'm putting my life in your hands. Please, save me," Steve says as his eyes begin to close, his strength visibly fading. You quickly place his good arm over your shoulders and ask him to guide you to his car. He leads you as best as he can, and once there, you carefully put him in the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt. You try calling out to him a few times, hoping to keep him conscious, but he slips into unconsciousness. Without wasting another second, you rush to drive him to the hospital, heart pounding as you speed through the streets.

It didn’t take long before you arrived at the emergency room of the hospital. After shouting for help, a doctor and several nurses rushed to assist you in getting Steve out of the car. You were questioned for a while about Steve—whether he had any allergies, what his condition was. You decided to say you were his wife, explaining that due to his military service, you hadn’t seen him for a while. Once they finished removing the fragments of the bullet from Steve’s arm, you could finally take a breath, though your heart still raced.

“Miss, your husband asked to see you,” one of the nurses informed you as you sat in the waiting room for hours. You quickly stood up to meet Steve, who was in a hospital bed looking much better.

"My beloved wife, have you waited all this time for me?" Steve Rogers says, sounding somewhat dazed, likely from the pain medication they gave him. You give him a slight smile as you see him beckoning you closer with his hand.

"How is my dear husband?" you ask, fully embracing the character as you approach him, gently holding his hand. He leans forward and pouts, as if asking for a kiss. You give him a quick peck on the lips.

"I want to go home. Can we leave?" Steve asks, laughing as if he's finding something amusing.

"We could go but your doctor said you need to stay under observation and the hospital said you need to give your insurance number or a nice amount of money." You smile and casually respond to Steve's question, but unfortunately, he falls asleep before he can answer you. You inform the hospital reception that you will provide Steve's financial information once he is better. They are understanding, thinking of you as a concerned wife. They even let you leave, promising to call if he improves. Feeling exhausted, you decide to go home. You drive Steve's car back to your place, borrowing it for the night.

As you’re about to enter your apartment, you hear a noise coming from inside. Great, this is when things go south. Thankfully, you have pepper spray in your bag, and you grab it, preparing to defend yourself against whoever is inside. When you open the door, you come face to face with a man. As soon as he turns to look at you, you spray him in the face.

"Ah, Y/N, are you trying to blind me?" Barnes exclaims, crying out in pain from the pepper spray in his eyes. You rush to help him, dropping your bag on a nearby surface. Gently, your fingers brush against his eyes as you attempt to wipe away the remnants of the spray. You blow softly into his eyes, trying to ease the burning sensation, while he watches you in stunned silence.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," you say softly, your concern evident. "I thought you were an intruder." As you continue to tend to him, the tension in the room shifts from fear to a more intimate moment, the chaos of the evening fading into the background.

"It wasn't supposed to be you who got hurt," Barnes says, grasping your hand, which still bears the blood from Steve. For a moment, you're touched by his genuine concern for you. However, the realization of what he said sinks in, making you acutely aware that he has some connection to what happened.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your heart racing as you search his eyes for answers. "Did you know this was going to happen?" The tension hangs heavy in the air as you await his response, feeling both unsettled and intrigued by the depths of his involvement.

His eyes seem heavy as he searches for the right words, finally admitting, "It was Natasha's plan. She thought a small attack would distract Steve enough for him to stop looking for me. She figured you wouldn't be able to keep secrets. We planted bugs in the restaurant, and when we sensed you were about to spill, we had to act. I know you're going to be angry, but it was for your own good." James Barnes's words feel like a whirlwind, leaving you bewildered.

"You’re crazy. How could you let her hurt your friend? Or did you do it yourself? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? You put me at risk and left your best friend injured. He’s in a damn hospital bed, you son of a bitch." You step away from James Barnes, unable to recognize the man in front of you. How sadistic could he be to hurt Steve?

"Steve will survive. It was a strategically placed shot; we wouldn’t have harmed him if we didn’t know he would pull through. Please, Y/N; trust me. What Natasha and I did was for the best," James Barnes says, holding your hands again as if he desperately wants you to understand and accept that it was all part of his plan.

"Don't you dare ask me to trust you; you didn't trust me. You preferred to shoot Rogers rather than give me a vote of confidence. But I can promise you that if you don't step aside right now, I will make you regret not shooting me. I will tell Steve and the police everything I know about you, and I won't regret it. So get out of my apartment and don't come back," you say angrily, feeling something burn inside you. You are tremendously regretful for having trusted him, for ever thinking he could be yours.

Barnes's gaze conveys a sense of pain, as if he is truly remorseful. He heads toward the door as if to leave, but pauses just before opening it, turning back and practically rushing towards you. His lips meet yours in a kiss filled with emotion. James leads the kiss, as if he wants to consume you. The intensity of your tongues dancing within each other’s mouths, exploring, is sensational. There’s a strong urge to push Barnes away, to hit him, to cry for him. But in that fleeting moment, you savor the kiss.

"I'll come back when you’re calmer. Until then, don’t do anything reckless. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but just know that I’m truly sorry," James says as he breaks the kiss, his eyes still closed, relishing the sensation of your lips against his. When you open your eyes, he’s no longer there. For a moment, you wish he had never been in your life at all.

[lady-phasma]

Armand N$FW Alphabet

I’m trying not to make these what I want to do to/with him but they are headcanon. Note: I headcanon him as omnisexual so the below works with all genders.

Warnings: I don't really think I need to put this given the title but MDNI. Mentions of sex, implied trauma, just graphic in general.

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Armand is kind and soft afterward. No matter the scenario he will check on his partner’s emotional state and offer them comfort if needed. As for himself, he won’t ask for it but sometimes he needs it (especially after anything D/s related). Although he’s usually pretty chill and relaxed afterward, at times he can be energetic and chatty. The more intense, the more chill he will be.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

This is heartbreaking, but I don’t think Armand would have a favorite of his own. He’s not vain in that way and is really insecure. He does like to show off his tiddies though. As for his partner: eyes. I think he would be enamored with the eyes of all his partners.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A lot. I’ll throw in some weird TVC headcanon I’ve had for over 20 years: vampire cum is pale pink. It’s a blood thing, like their tears. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this stuff. Armand cums a lot. I mean a lot. (More detail under S below.) He’s indifferent to it with his partners as long as they climax, he doesn’t have a cum kink but it’s turned off by it either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

All of them! But seriously, maybe that he enjoys being a switch. I think Armand is much more Dominant with women, but not always. He’s very into whatever his partner is into and adjusts easily. It’s a secret because he wants to be whatever his partner needs, but he also truly enjoys the fluidity and flexibility of being a switch within the context of D/s.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Very experienced and very talented. No matter what parts his partner is rocking Armand has experience. He’s very open-minded about sex and, although maybe not particularly laid back, he has learned a lot in his time. He doesn’t like everything, but he has probably done it at least once.

F = Favorite position

As with most things, this will depend on Armand’s partner. However, he really enjoys being on the bottom and watching his partner if at all possible. Even when he feels Dominant with his partner he enjoys being underneath them. I don’t know that he has an absolute favorite, but he wants to be able to see his partner.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Armand is very serious most of the time, but not uptight during sexy times. Silly things happen during sex and he’s probably experienced it all anyway. There’s no point in making his partner nervous or embarrassed. He’s not going to be giggling during the act, but he will certainly laugh when appropriate.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is so well groomed! Series canon shows us that he cares about his appearance. He is nothing if not fastidious. His pubic hair would never be neglected and it definitely matches the drapes and his glorious chest hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment?)

Armand enjoys intimacy to a degree and depending on the circumstances. He needs it more than most. It doesn’t have to be deep, but it has to be present. He is highly attuned to his partner’s emotions at any given moment so he requires that connection. Unfortunately, he doesn’t require the same attention in return. He is deeply invested in his partners and their mental/emotional state during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This act is all about efficiency and need for Armand. It’s not a self-love situation. It’s also not perfunctory exactly. He enjoys it and needs to do it. But he doesn’t light candles or watch porn. If he feels the need it’s possibly because his partner isn’t available or in the mood. It’s not a harsh affair, but it’s not going to take very long. I want to watch this so badly!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I’m going to skip the general D/s stuff because I have a couple posts about his D/s interests here and here. He’s definitely into degradation for himself (but would find it difficult to do to a partner) and he’s very into praise (for both himself and his partners). Probably his biggest kink is hands, touching and being touched (see W for more info about this). Vampires have naturally perfect manicures so their hands are generally pretty sexy, but the act of touching communicates a lot for Armand. Suck on his fingers, scratch your nails down his back, let him reciprocate, or just a soft graze of the back of your fingers against his cheek, hands might be his biggest turn on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his own home or domicile, for sure. He needs to feel safe to let his guard down completely. He doesn’t care where, but he will be most present and relaxed in his own space (or that of his partners). He does enjoy a little public action and isn’t above public displays of affection. However, he can be himself most comfortably in a safe, familiar place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I interpreted this two ways: Armand gets excited by seeing his partner get excited and that he gets turned on by words as much as physical touch. Praise him, tell him how beautiful he is, how much you want to do to him and what (or what you want him to do to you), tell him how much you truly desire him and he’s ready to go. But watching his partner react to his words/touch makes him horny in a different way entirely. He can’t get enough of watching their eyelids flutter or them bite their lower lips involuntarily.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Hard limits would be “dirty,” human bodily functions. He’s too old, too fastidious, too him to be into any of that. He doesn’t enjoy being restrained or tied up. If his partner holds him down a safe word can trigger immediate release, but the time to untie knots, etc would take too long and he’d have to use his strength to break them. That doesn’t interest him. Pin him down because he lets you overpower him? That’s sexier anyway.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Armand loves giving oral! He is enthusiastic and talented. Not only does he get completely engrossed in the act, he likes to use it to overstim his partners if they really enjoy oral. He likes receiving as well, but is usually less focused on his on enjoyment than that of his partner. In light of that, if his partner is submissive or just enjoys giving, he will happily receive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like most things, this depends on the mood/vibe of the situation, but Armand is typically slow and sensual if he’s in charge. However, slow and sensual doesn’t exclude rough this alphabet is from a template so I wanted to point that out. Whether he’s in charge or not, fast and hard can be a lot of fun for him, but maybe likes that best when he’s submissive.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Armand loves spontaneity in his sex life. Anywhere, anytime. But if the quickie turns into something more, that’s fine by him. He likes to flirt and imply, goading his partner into initiating the quickie even if he won’t initiate himself. He especially enjoys quickies as a surprise. He doesn’t mind if it’s in public or private, quickies are fun and add interest to his sex life.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So many. He likes trying new things with people. He enjoys pushing his boundaries and helping others push theirs (with consent). If he doesn’t enjoy it he won’t do it again. He definitely enjoys acts that are taboo or unconventional because he’s beyond such human notions at this point. Excitement is difficult to experience after 500 years. He’s not a thrill-seeker in general, but he does like novel and experimental sexual exploits.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Forever. I headcanon vampires as having a short refractory period and Armand is no exception. If he is turned on by his partner he is turned on and insatiable. He’s rarely pushy (though he can seem needy), but he will always be ready when they are. He is motivated by his partner’s pleasure so if he finishes first he will bound back quickly to satisfy them. It’s not a stretch to imagine him going all night with very little downtime if he paces himself. Can his partner handle it though?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Armand doesn’t own that many, but he enjoys using them when his partner does. He would happily use them on his partners if they wished, delighting in pleasing them. There is a shyness about him that might make him reluctant to have toys used on himself by a partner since that requires an amount of attention that can make him uncomfortable. He quickly relaxes and gets past this with the right partner/circumstance and can enjoy the occasional toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He isn’t a fan of physical teasing (like edging), but loves to flirt. Drawing out the pleasure for his partner or himself is fun for him, but rarely to the point of it being uncomfortable. All of his flirting is used to heighten what will happen later on, so teasing once that has begun doesn’t serve him. He wants his partner to feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Armand is very quiet. Sighs, moans, small groans are his love language. Whispering a command/consent or encouragement or his partner’s name in his silky voice is enough for him. He doesn’t need to be loud or overly vocal to let his partner know how he feels, but he can’t help but moan and praise. He’s not going to scream your name, but he will let you know when you’re being good for him or taking him so well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is obsessed with touch/physical affection as validation. He needs to be perceived as desirable and having his partners touch him in any affectionate way is crucial to him. (Even if that affection comes from D/s or CNC.) He needs affirmation that he's beautiful and wanted.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

See gif above. Also, he’s uncircumcised. He has a very proper and polite cock.* It’s as beautiful as he is. It’s not terribly long (maybe 6-6.5 inches/15-16.5 cm) but has a nice girth. Did I mention it’s beautiful? Fairly even in tone with a head the color of his fingertips. Let’s not neglect his balls, though. They are small-ish and tight, accentuating his overall length. Very prim and polite as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This completely depends on his partner and their moods. He can be insatiable to the point of neediness if he’s enamored with his partner. If they aren’t upset with him, his libido is genuine and turned up to 11. If they show the slightest bit of disapproval he has a tendency to use sex to manipulate them and gain their approval/affection.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As I mentioned in A, he will be energetic after if it was a fun, quick, light-hearted event. But if it was an intense scene or emotionally heavy, Armand will be drowsy and relaxed after providing/receiving the appropriate aftercare. Unless it was very close to dawn he probably wouldn’t get incredibly sleepy, but he would definitely be chill and calm after.

Note: yes, some of these headcanons/traits are a result of his trauma, if you feel compelled to point that out, go for it, but please don’t assume I wasn’t aware of which are poor coping mechanisms and maladaptive as I wrote them. I didn’t invent him, I’m just obsessed.

*Thank you Stephen King for that term. Polite, college boy cock is one of my favorite descriptions.

This is the alphabet template I used.

[enby-jellyfish]

The Start of Summer

Part 1 of Managing the Mystery Shack

Grunkle Stan X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your, They/Them

Summary: Summer has begun and the twins have arrived.

Warnings: Slight angst, but that's it I think.

Word Count: 1984

A/N: Hey y'all, sorry it's been *checks notes* Over a month!? I hit a mental block due to school starting and had to micro dose my productivity for a bit :( I will try having a better updating schedule from now on!

Previous part

It has been around thirty years since the incident. A lot has changed in that time. The wound on your face has healed, leaving behind a visible scar in its place.

The shack has also changed. Over the years it has been properly transformed into a beloved tourist trap, complete with gift shop, now named the Mystery Shack. The left over rooms have been fully redecorated and anything science related has been moved into the basement.

Together you and Stan have made countless renovations to the formerly grim shack and transformed it into your shared home and a successful business.

In the time that passed the two of you grew very close, almost like a family. You work in the shack together, eat together, watch TV together, and work on the portal together. There is very little time you spend apart.

The two of you sit squeezed next to each other on the small worn couch in the living room, watching a rerun of an old Duck-tective episode, as you usually do after dinner, when the phone in the office starts ringing. “Who calls at this hour? Can you get that? I would but, it’s sooo. Faaar. Awayyy.” Stan asks you, extending his arm in a fake attempt to reach the ringing phone, not taking his eyes from the small TV for a second.

You sigh and roll your eyes at his lazy antics as you get up, joints cracking as you do so. You should probably get that checked out at some point. “Ugh, fine. But you’re getting it next time.”

You move to the office and pick up the phone, holding it up to your ear and putting on the best customer service voice you can muster. “Hello, this is the Mystery Shack. We put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds’! How can I help you?” You can hear someone yelling on the other side of the line before they address you, “Hey, can I talk to my uncle please- YES, I’M CALLING NOW! GET OFF MY BACK. Please.”

The remainder of Stan’s family is… certainly something. Dropping the customer service voice you respond. “Sure, one second. Stan, it’s for you! Your nephew!” You call for him and he groans in response. You hear him turn off the TV and start shuffling your way, muttering curses under his breath. He takes the phone from you, leaning on his arm against the wall, fidgeting with the phone cord in his fingers. “Hey kid, what’s up?”

You head back to the living room to give them some privacy, flipping through an old notebook while waiting for him to finish his conversation.

About a minute passes when Stan calls your name. “, is it alright if my grandniece and -nephew spend the summer here?”

You had met the twins a few times before. In fact, Stan had taken you with him to the hospital when they were born. He finds it difficult seeing his family alone. He mentioned once, in a moment of vulnerability, that you make it easier.

He was nervous to hold them at first, worried he would mess something up, but when his nephew placed the two infants in his arms he practically melted. You remember how he refused to let them go. Shermie basically had to wrestle the twins out of his arms.

You had seen the twins a handful of times more after that, they seem like good kids.

“Yeah, it’s fine by me!” Stan finishes up his conversation and rejoins you in the living room.

“They’ll be coming tomorrow, their parents really seemed eager to get them out of the house.” You feel bad for those kids, it’s no secret their parents’ marriage is on thin ice with the amount of fights they have. At least they’ll be out of the house and won’t have to witness when it all falls apart.

“Where are they gonna be staying?” There aren’t really any bedrooms available in the shack with Ford’s being boarded off and Stan taking Fiddleford’s.

“I was thinking the attic, we should still have a spare bedframe and a few old mattresses lying around here somewhere.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Sounds like a plan.” You check the time. “We should get their room ready now if we still want to work on the portal tonight.” Stan hums in agreement and extends his hands for you to grab, hoisting you up from the couch with a groan.

The two of you clean up the attic and gather what you need for the room. Together you take apart the bedframe, putting the headboard with two mattresses on one side of the writing desk underneath the triangular window, and the base with one mattress on the other side. A few pillows, blankets, and some fairy lights later it looks pretty decent.

Exhausted, yet satisfied with yourselves you wipe the sweat you build up from your brow. “Do you think they’ll like it?” You shrug. “I don’t know for sure, but I think so, kids love attic rooms, right? Why?” Stan sheepishly shrugs, rubbing his neck and avoiding eye contact. “I want them to like it here, I guess.” You can’t tell if ‘here’ means the room or with him in general.

You step closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’m sure they will.” Stan stares at you for a moment, seemingly deciding whether to believe you or not. He settles for the first and nods.

Suddenly realising you still have your hand on his shoulder you remove it, patting his shoulder awkwardly before turning for the door. “C’mon, we still have a portal waiting for us. It isn’t going to fix itself.”

After a few hours of working in the basement you bid each other good night and head for your respective bedrooms.

That next day Stan anxiously awaits the kids. In his mission to make a good impression he threw away all alcohol and cigars in the house and even swore off cursing in front of the kids.

When the bus with the twins finally arrive, he excitedly gives them a tour of the shack before taking them to Greasy’s Diner with the excuse that he ‘doesn’t feel like cooking’.

That night when you get ready to head to bed you stop in front of the twins’ room. Stan stands in front of the door listening to the voices pouring from the room. He notices you, puts a finger to his lips and continues listening in on them. You are about to tell him off for eavesdropping when you hear what the twins are discussing.

“Think about it Mabel, do you really want to spend the entire summer here? We could just run away, catch the next bus home, maybe call the FBI while we’re at it, because I’m pretty sure at least 90% of everything going on in this shack is illegal.”

You look at Stan, but he refuses to meet your eye. “I don’t know Dipper. I mean, Grunkle Stan seemed really happy to have us here. This all doesn’t seem that bad. Maybe we could- OH, I’ve got an idea!” You hear Mabel explain that they could use a magic eight-ball to decide their fate.

You hold your breath as you wait for its answer. It tells them to stay. That is good you suppose.

You pull away from the door when you hear the twins settle into bed, Stan suddenly rushing toward his room. He was never very good at dealing with emotions properly, a remnant of his rough childhood, but you’ve known him long enough to tell when he needs comfort, even if he won’t ask for it.

You gently open the door to Stan’s room and find him sitting on his bed, head in his hands. Without saying a word, you sit down next to him and softly put your arms around his tense frame. After a while of holding him, you feel him starting to relax a bit.

Without saying a word, he sits up and moves you so you’re both laying down. This isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, holding each other, though it has been a while. In the early days you quickly found out he had a lot of nightmares.

You had come rushing into his room at the sound of him screaming, finding him looking disoriented and covered in sweat. Eventually you had managed to calm him down.

Stan didn’t want you leaving after that.

You didn’t want to either.

Whenever the need arises, like now, you would just hold each other. Sometimes there would be talking, sometimes not.

Now it's the latter. Both of you content with just laying there, inhaling each other's scent, and tracing patterns over aged skin until sleep takes over.

The next day Stan is mostly back to his usual self and decides to put the kids to work, making Dipper hang up signs in the woods.

In the time Dipper is gone Mabel, who has decided that this getaway is the perfect opportunity to have an ‘epic summer romance’, after many failed attempts around the shop, which was pretty entertaining to watch, finally found a date.

“Hey boss, guess what?” You turn your gaze from the notepad you were comparing prices on to the widely grinning girl next to you. “I’m not your ‘boss’ Mabel, you don’t work for me. What is it?” You gently remind her, despite knowing that nickname is definitely going to stick.

She rolls her eyes playfully and waves away your comment. “Pshh, tell that to Grunkle Stan! Anyways, guess who has a date? It’s me! I have a date!” She squeals excitedly. “Aw, that’s nice. I’m happy for you Mabel.” She squeals some more before running off to get ready for her date, leaving you to continue doing your job.

He comes to pick her up later that day. The teenaged emo boy is quickly introduced as ‘Norman’ before Mabel rushes them outside. Dipper follows them shortly after, hurriedly exclaiming he has no time to explain before rushing out the door, leaving you slightly confused.

A few hours later the twins walk back into the gift shop looking dishevelled. “Hey kids. Mabel, how did your date go?” She gives you a big smile and a thumbs up. “Horrible!” Well, that’s not the answer you were expecting. “Oh! Are you okay? Do you need anything?” She waves away the idea. “Nah!” Well, alright then.

Stan, who was counting money before, stops and tries breaking the ice by making a joke, which he doesn’t get a reaction to. You decide to help him out. “Oh, would you look at that. It seems I have overstocked some inventory.” Stan is about to tell you off for wasting precious money but stops himself when he notices you giving him a look and nodding to the twins.

“OH, er. Hey kids, how about you pick something from the shop, on the house.”

Dipper picks out a nice hat with a pine tree symbol and Mabel chooses a… grappling hook?! Where did she even find that?

Stan is easily persuaded, but you are still hesitant. “Stan, giving a 12-year-old a weapon doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

Mabel gives you her best impression of a kicked puppy. “Oh, please, please, please, please, boss?”

Oh, you can’t say no to those eyes. “Do you promise you’ll be careful?”

“Scout’s honour!” She gives you a salute. “You have never been a scout.” Dipper corrects her.

“GRAPPELING HOOK!”

That evening Mabel accidentally destroys a window.

Next part (TBA)

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[borderlinereminders]

I feel like people should be able to share their experiences on your posts? Like the advice in your post didn’t work for me but here’s another suggestion for those like me! It seems rude to get upset about that?

I want to say that someone having feelings isn’t “rude”. How you express those feelings matters, but me being upset by comments on my posts isn’t rude in itself.

That said, I’m not talking about comments like that. I’m talking about people getting aggressive and upset with me because they don’t like my advice or it doesn’t work for them. It’s not so much what people are saying so much as how they are saying it.

I’ll get comments like “this advice is bullshit and can contribute to people gaslighting themselves to stay in abusive relationships” because I didn’t include on my post every circumstance the advice isn’t good for.

I’m all for people sharing different ideas and add ons. It just matters how they do it and a lot of the time, people aren’t offering suggestions or another view, they’re just getting upset with me.

I share advice but I don’t even use all of my own advice because it depends on the circumstance. I’m not going to handle a conflict with my best friend the same way I would with someone toxic in my life I need to tolerate. I’d be more gentle and communicative with my best friend. We’d have an open conversation. We’d both have space to share our views and feelings and come up with solutions together. But for someone toxic in my life I need to tolerate, I’d probably just put up some firm boundaries without much room for compromise or conversation.

The advice is there for people that want to try it, but a lot of people misinterpret that to mean that I’m saying “this advice is good for everyone and everything”.

People are welcome to share their experiences. They have the right to. But depending on how they do that, I might block people for my own mental health. 🤷‍♀️

[pepperpixel]

“Can't remember when we walked past the O.R. sign!

(sur-ger-y!)

Can't remember passing out with her hand in mine!

(my-my-mind!!!!)

I remember waking up with my mind repaired.

(A-OK! ^^)

I remember when I realized, she wasn't there...”

Amnesia was her name….. is. so. horrifically. sadly fitting for these two in literally every single line. And I’m gonna NEED ALL OF U GUYS TO GO LISTEN TO IT NOW OK… THIS ISNT A DRILL GO GO GO GO!!!

Anyway… uhh. the fact Betty “blessed” this guy to like. An eternally long lifespan w THIS FUCKED UP OF A MENTAL STATE IS SO SCREWED UP GHGH- Like poor Simon god damn…! u kno he’d rather just keep on not sorting out his baggage and trauma forever too cuz it’d be too complicated… too much… force him to admit things about himself and about BETTY that he really really doesn’t want to… better to just leave it all unexamined.. pack it all into lil boxes so he can just try to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist… HE GOTTA LIVE FOREVER W IT THO… *ME BANGING ON SIMONS DOOR AT 3 IN THE MORNING*: “SIMON U GOTTA ACCEPT URSELF!!!! LOVE URSELF!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE N ACCEPT EVEN THE “BAD” PARTS OF URSELF!!!! SIMON PLEASE!!!!! SIMON EVEN PPL WHO LOVE YOU AND WHO YOU LOVE CAN HURT YOU!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE IT!!! ACKNOWLEDGE THE HURT AND ACKNOWLEDGE UR FEELINGS!!!! AND URSELF!!!!! SIMON!!!!” anyway… gGHGH YEA, SRRY. SIMON PETRIKOVS MENTAL ILLNESSES MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM GONNA EXPLODE. ANYWAY HAVE SOME ART. W a bunch of diff versions cuz I’m indecisive!

[coyotesinew]

Some recent thoughts about nonhumanity and my relationship to the community + my personal relationship with it that I cleaned up, my writing style is a bit disjointed, I would like to share more of my writing, if anyone would be interested in seeing that :)

[dykedvonte]

Preston x Danse is the only companion ship I think would actually work because Preston’s inner turmoil is sort of a loss of faith in himself due to the traumatic experiences he’s faced while Danse is looking for something to have faith in and would find the fact that despite the desire to give up Preston held out so long not just for the honor of the Minutemen but because he had some hope.

It would 100% start off as a lotta unhealthy on Danse’s side as I believe he completely lacks the emotional intelligence (due to a combination of factors) to recognize the he’s feelings as anything but a sort of respect for a superior along with leaning too much into Preston as a substitute for the BoS. Preston may not really have a title but he’s like THE Lieutenant of the Minutemen. Realistically he’s the only companion Danse would probably be comfortable taking instructions from especially for how trusted Preston is by the Sole Survivor and his adherence to military standards despite how unstructured the Minutemen are. It would be him waiting for orders, approval, anything from Preston and he thinks it’s just the desire to have the regiment of the BoS again but he also like when Preston compliments him on being useful or resourceful. He likes the stories of Minuteman glory days and he trades the stories of the BoS that don’t hurt to talk about. He likes the familiarity Preston would provide and he’d be oblivious that it’s not just new found loyalty to the Minutemen.

Yet Preston explains it himself that he’s not a natural leader. He’s not an instructor. He helps manage what the General has put in place and he content on doing that. He relays what needs to be done and does major upkeep but I don’t think he’d know what to do with this guy this literally marches up to him and practically begs for a mission that doesn’t exist. Like the formality and respect is nice but he can tell it’s covering something even if Danse doesn’t.

Danse could go to Sturges for the many repair and upkeep assignments he gives him and has the freedom to go straight to the Castle if he really wants a big mission, but he chooses to come to him everytime. He’s aware enough that Danse only trusts him out of all of the Generals confidantes but it would take a bit for him to understand why. If anything Danse should be strategizing with him as equals seeing as he almost got the Minuteme wiped out and Danse was a Paladin for the Brotherhood with many successes under his belt before Preston even led his first scouting mission. It’s like he sees him as some figure of hope, some one who can come in and add stability. Someone with a fresh outlook who can provide a new perspective for him.

It’s like he sees him like he saw/sees the Sole Survivor but that would be crazy because that would also mean… and then oh, it clicks.

The revelation is both flattering and he doesn’t know what to do with it cause how do you address “I know you respect me but is that the only feeling you have for me?” To the guy who like refuses to rest unless you tell him at ease? He has to reevaluate his whole manner of interaction with Danse cause this is a very slippery slope that he’s sliding down and it’s even more perilous due to Danse’s repressed emotions regarding… everything. There’s an equal chance Danse will try to open up as completely shut down and he’s not just concerned about it cause Sole Survivor cares for him but because he has grown to care for the guy too. It’s not like he doesn’t also enjoy Danse’s company and value as a Minuteman member. He’s not a love at first sight guy but he’s played with the idea, anyone would when you’ve spent nights trading stories, historical facts and beers by the fire in a little home you’ve carved for yourself through literal blood, sweat and tears.

I think it’s one of those cases where it’s agonizingly slow to the actual relationship but neither part are anguished about that. If anything happened to soon Danse would be too dependent and Preston not equipped to handle it. It’s a case where I genuinely think they’d bring out the best in each other cause theyd want to figure out what is best for the other and not just apply what they think is the best. It’s the care that Preston would ask Danse what he wants to do and encourage it and at the same time Danse would be incredulous everytime Preston second guesses himself.

Long story short it’s a good ship to me because it’s just two guys with broken confidences and faith in their roles being each other’s hype man and kissin a little about it.

[edge-oftheworld]

yeah I know Luke’s been running around saying he ‘can be a bit of a pessimist’ but I just wanna give him a little bit more credit than that. he’s been through so much and yet we’ll hear him talking about times that are ‘marred with trauma’ but still he can’t ever regret for getting him to where he is today. this whole year he’s been making an effort to do things that scare him and he even finds hard, he’s been pushing himself out of his comfort zone and doing 1000 solo interviews as well as his shows and last year he went to bogota to film 7 music videos in 2 days and believed he could do it and he did. he talks about mental health related things in such a way that’s filled with acceptance, not complaint or bitterness but dare I say even optimism, dropping horrifying little descriptions to already heartbreaking songs since 2021 and then turning around and saying writing songs is what gets him through it, he ‘wouldn’t have a good relationship with anything’ if he didn’t make them but he’s super proud of himself after and wasn’t put off by how much work it was gonna be even though it did make him apprehensive and he goes and mentions how it wasn’t easy. you look at everything we know of him for the last decade and a half and realise, maybe it was never easy. but someone once described optimism as curiosity + resilience rather than being naively happy all the time in denial of everything going on around. and with that active brain and all the things he figures out while writing all his beautiful songs there’s definitely curiosity there. and with everything he’s been through to keep choosing to be himself and do whatever he needs to do there’s so much resilience. and I’ve seen this spirit in the songs of sounds good feels good and 5sos5, as well as littered through wfttwtaf and boy; every project being a quiet, kinda emo, statement of survival. I’m just one fan with too many opinions but this is something I’ve always loved about the band, and a decent portion of it was always brought to the table by luke and idk I just think we should acknowledge it

[jacquiarno]

It’s Bisexuality Visibility Month (also Suicide Awareness Month), and the biphobia has been constant and intense, even in our own bi spaces, mostly from fellow LGBTQIA+ people.

Bi women have been told they are tainted for being with men, that we are dirty and dick obsessed. We’ve been told we are perverted fetishists by both cis and trans lesbians, with even gay men joining in on the insults, with one even threatening violence towards bi women if they come near lesbians. We even got told we deserve to be abused, raped, and murdered by our male partners because that’s what we deserve for dating men.

Bi men are being accused again for being HIV carriers, with gay men saying they are only good for sex because they will end up leaving them for women. One trans man said he would kill himself if a man started dating a woman after him, not leave him for one but just start dating again and that person being a woman.

I haven’t seen insults directly about non-binary bisexuals, but I’m sure there would be and a lot of hate lumps us all together. All this hates stings me but I can’t imagine the pain of all this for non-binary, trans women, and trans men dealing with it all, and it makes me so disappointed and angry that fellow trans people in this community are hurting them.

Pride Month a lesbian wrote “I wish god would eradicate all the bisexuals” while another wrote “For Pride Month let all the bi people disappear” with both having thousands of likes and comments agreeing. Now during Bi Visibility Month, a non-binary lesbian with feminist in their profile posted “Happy bi visibility month, I hope they find a cure soon 💖”. While continuing to mock us after.

Our allies and so-called LGBTQIA+ advocates have been silent and have even participated in bierasure, laughing at us when we point it out, saying “It’s not that serious.” “Lol the bis are getting upset over nothing again”. Only the bisexual advocates and pages have spoken out against the hate.

The B in LGBTQIA+ is suppose to be for bisexual but this community says and treats us as awfully as the bigots do to all of us. Bisexual is the sexuality that is attracted to two or more genders, that we have the ability to love anyone regardless of their gender. But we’re treated as greedy, perverted, hyper sexual, unfaithful, which from bigots you understand and usually brush off, but from those within the community who go through similar prejudice and should understand, sharing the same ignorant mindset.

These spaces are suppose to be our safe havens as well, but are just as dangerous. We try making our own spaces and even that is invaded by these people, we are beyond exhausted. We need the other members of the community that aren’t biphobic to speak out more and shut these people and this hate down. Because the lack of empathy from this community is frightening and all this in-fighting will allow the bigots to pick us a part more easily.