#new jersey isn't boring

[earlycuntsets]

translation: "my chemical romance interview. "for us, the live stage is the only place where we can be ourselves."

The songs are like a collection of rock anthems from all over the world, past and present, and it sets the hearts of listeners ablaze.

Who is the emo band that rocked the Summer Sonic stage?

My Chemical Romance, from New Jersey, who just released their major debut album "THREE CHEERS FOR SWEET REVENGE" in July, came to Japan for the first time at Summer Sonic 04. MCR's music is called "screamo" because of their friendship with their friends, including THE USED, and their style, and it contains the street/garage sensibility unique to the generation that went through American punk in recent years… but if you listen to it with a calm ear, you can see that although the vocals are "screamo style," the songs have a beautiful structure and tearful melodies that are related to British heavy metal, and they also feature beautiful guitar solos. In other words, MCR is a band that plays heavy metal at the street level… That's why they must have been so welcomed right from the start in Japan, a country that has a strong tradition of heavy metal music (probably) - their first performance in Japan was a big success.

45 minutes after the end of the thunderous "Summer Sonic" stage

We caught up with the two excited guitarists!

I've never been to a show like that before! I'll never forget this experience.

--Now Frank Iero (FI): This isn't real.

How was the live show you just finished?

FI: Seriously! I've never done a show like that before. It was a memorable moment in my life. I'll never forget it!

--You seem very excited. What was so amazing about it?

Ray Toro: No, not "What". WTF! I mean, they were so welcoming! I wasn't expecting that kind of reaction at all. It felt like a hometown show. Oh, what can I say… ahhhh… anyway, it feels great!-- (Laughs)

Was the positive reaction because the new york was great? Especially the first single "I'm Not Okay" it's really exciting… It's a great song, and the song structure is well-crafted, building up from the intro, and the solo is uplifting too. Did you feel any magic when you made it?

FI: Well, let me tell you something. This song is something that you can't really call "written".

Really? Is that so?

FI: That's true. The song itself only has four chords, right? Except for the solo, it's all four. So at first, I thought it would be a boring song. But when we got together in the studio and Ray was playing those four chords over and over… Gerald (Way/vocals) started singing. The other members were silent. I closed my eyes and listened carefully. Then I realized it was an incredibly beautiful song. I felt it was worth completing. So I tried to change it up with the chorus. The root remained four.

---The guitar solo in this song creates a harmony with the guitar, creating a grandeur that is reminiscent of Queen. How did this come about?

FI: That solo was all Ray!

RT: Of course we were totally inspired by Queen! We were all saying, "Let's have a big guitar solo. Nobody does that anymore!" So I layered the guitars on it and made it as epic as possible. Also, when we were writing the song originally, we talked about making it as production-heavy as possible in the studio… Another thing I did consciously was to think of all the '80s pop and '70s bands I liked. I thought, "What would they do to make a song that's really epic…?" That's also where the two-second piano in the middle of the song came from. It doesn't really mean anything, but it's a bit like a soundtrack.

In terms of age, he was still very much alive.

FI: To tell you the truth, that second part is from the live album "CHEAP TRICK AT BUDOKAN" (1978) [laughs] I really wanted to include it. To begin with, even though some people have performed it live, I've never heard it performed in a studio album. I tried to include that as well and create the biggest anthem I could think of.

Q: Not just "I'm Not Okay," but all of MCR's songs…The composition is designed to make the listeners excited. They are all uplifting and dramatic. Is this something you do consciously?

FI: I'm totally aware of it.

RT: Yes. You can hear it in the song, but I change parts one after another. For example, We never repeat the same parts twice, and as the song progresses, new elements are added. We want it to feel like it's building from one thing to the next. Every member of the band contributes to that. The drums, the vocals, the melodies…everything helps the song to go higher and higher.

FI: Especially the new album, "It's Not A Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish" crescendos all the way through. It just gets stronger and stronger. It all comes together in a spectacular finale. The whole band sings together for an anthemic ending. Because I like it! Our styles are completely different, maybe that mismatch is a good thing?

MCR's music tends to be dramatic. Is that due to the influence of the music you've listened to up until now?

RT: I grew up listening to heavy metal, like Ozzy Osbourne. I was obsessed with guitar heroes. I like bands that feature guitar players such as the late Randy Rhoads (g/Ozzy Osbourne) and Joe Satriani, Jimi Hendrix… In other words, Randy is the one who combined heavy metal with classical music, but his guitar playing I think he is the person who has had the biggest influence on my style. It's a bit old-fashioned, but it has a melody. And it's timeless. Melody.

FI: Richie Havens. My first woodstock. He was the opening act for the concert. He took me to an acoustic I just played it with one guitar, like a solo. There wasn't much, just sitting on the stool. He played very melodic and rhythmic guitar. But it's a completely unique style that can't be imitated. He had tiles… Such a great performer. I've never seen him before! I've seen Richie on stage about 10 times now, and I'm blown away every time. He's one of the reasons I don't stop playing guitar. I also love Greg Ginn (guitar/Black Flag) and Thurston Moore (vocals, guitar/Sonic Youth). In other words, I like dirty and emotional guitar more than intellectual style.

——————Hmm. You two have completely different tastes…

FI: Well, we are completely different types of guitarists, but maybe that mismatch is a good thing.

--You mentioned a lot of artists, but listening to your album I can sense a strong influence from heavy metal. But you also listen to a lot of different music from the '70s and '80s, right?

RT: Well, you can't just listen to one type of music, you know? There's so much good music out there. We can't just pretend not to notice it! All of us in the band try to listen to as much as we can and want to absorb as much as we can from all kinds of music.

FI: What we heard was an influence in some way.

FI: I like to use a Marshall JCM900 connected to a SUNN cabinet, and an Epiphone Zak Wylde model Les Paul as the only guitar. I turn up the bass all the way (laughs). Treble is about mid-range. I add gain here and there. But I like to keep it sounding like a real guitar. Not a "buzzing" sound with too much gain, but more of a solid sound.

RT: Yes! And we both try to only use effects when absolutely necessary, and usually plug them straight into the amp. Oh, but we do use wah pedals. Personally, I'd love to see the wah come back!

--I see. So with Frank on the bass and Ray raising the middle, it feels like you've managed to balance the band sound well?

FI&RT: Exactly!

FI: That's how I make it clear that there are two guitars. It's better to have a difference where you can hear each guitar part and it doesn't sound too cluttered.

――――So, let's talk about your playing, not just the guitar sound.

RT: I've been in the middle of it all. But the best thing to do is come to a show and see for yourself! I think there have been times when people thought it was Frank and it was me, and vice versa. We've influenced each other so we have some similarities.

---So you're influenced by each other's playing?

RT: Yeah. At least I got it from Frank.

I learned to play dirty. Not just clean, but more emotional. Instead of being super technical and perfect, I gave myself a little more leeway and tried to avoid feedback and pick-squeezing.

Frank is especially good at pick slides. He likes to make noise out of the guitar, rather than a pretty sound.

He's really good at bringing that out. Making noise, not just playing, is something I'm still learning.

FI: I'm the opposite, I'm learning to play clean, to keep things under control, but still let out emotion when necessary.

RT: A classic example of what you're talking about is "The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You." Frank has a really great part here. After the second chorus, it gets really quiet.

"THREE CHEERS FOR SWEET REVENGE" Warner Music Japan [CD] WPCR-11883 Sensual vocal melodies and emotional guitars, as heard on the 1st single.Their popularity is on the rise thanks to the explosive emotion of their vocals. This is the band's second album and their major label debut. Ray's strengths are in his guitar playing, which always lifts the listener up. While talking about the existing screamo sound, such as the "screamo" part, a new sense of flavoring with the essence of gothic and metal shines. And it's the same with everyday experiences! Everything that comes out of it naturally comes out in the work, and the more I shut out certain types of music or certain experiences, the less fertilizer I have. The goal is the stage. Keep playing to the limit. From what I saw on stage a while ago, the live equipment was, you both used similar things. How do you differentiate between the sounds?

RT: I'm more into distortion. I play a lot of riffs and generally like to emphasize the mid-range.

My model was the crunch guitar sound of Metallica's "Master of Puppets" (1986).

FI: On the other hand, I only use distortion to a natural degree.

Can you tell me the specific equipment names?

RT: The amps are Marshall "JCM2000" and "1960".

Cabinet. The guitar was bought by my brother for Christmas 10 years ago.

It's a very easy one to make, but the sound is great!

I also use an Epiphone Les Paul.

036 GuitarBreakers Vol.8

He said it was a good example of how the differences between the two of them are well expressed.

Can you name any?

FI: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us

In Prison, I guess?

RT: You're right!

FI: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us

"In Prison" is huge! The first two verses are

It's rhythmic and dirty, and then…

Ray's guitar hero-like, epic solo begins (laughs). And it has a light rhythm. And then there's "To The End" too.

RT: Yes. In some ways, I play more technically than Frank, but "To the End" has a great guitar solo, it's fast, and it's got some rhythmic, dirty parts. But I think you can hear the difference in our playing styles on every song to some extent.

---By the way, on the album, which is left and which is right?

Are you playing the channel?

RT: Well, in the verses, I mostly play on the left.

Ray is on the left. And Frank is on the right in the chorus.

Frank really blossoms in this scene. It's totally different from his previous style.

FI: Mmhmm!

---Finally, could you tell us about your future goals regarding guitar and songwriting?

FI: For now, I'd like to be able to turn the parts I've written for the next album into proper songs.

Also, we have a clear goal as a band.

But I'll keep it a secret until I achieve it (lol).

RT: For me personally, I just want to keep improving.

FI: Me too!

RT: We both love playing guitar.

That's what life is all about, so I want to keep improving both in technique and melody.

FI: For us, it was a live show that lasted less than two hours. I think that the only chance I have is to be myself, to experience a pure and spiritual moment. So my goal is to continue to play all the way to the end. There is a joy that cannot be expressed in words. I don't think you can understand it unless you have experienced it!

My Chemical Playing - A magnificent world created with guitar

The key to My Chemical Romance's songs is the twin guitars. When the two guitars intertwine, sometimes intensely and sometimes elegantly, it gives the listener a great sense of exhilaration.

Ray was crazy about guitar heroes like Randy Rhoads and Joe Satriani, while Frank loves Greg Ginn and Thurston Moore. They come from completely different backgrounds, but as Ray says, "When we get together, we don't know why, but a special atmosphere is born," which is the characteristic of the My Chemical Romance sound. In fact, Alba

If you check out his playing, you can hear many good examples of two-guitar ensemble. One of the best is the backing for "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)." As mentioned in the interview, the bass in this song is a repeat of four chords (D → Bm Em → A), but it is amazing how the performance is not at all simple. Due to space limitations, I will not post an example.

"I'm Not Okay" style guitar solo sheet music.

I'm sorry I can't introduce it, but I definitely want you to check out the ensemble in the A-melody. So, I'll introduce the solo below. This performance was inspired by Queen and was meant to be grand. The harmonies are great, but the chord progression is deliberately E/G#, even though E would have been fine in the flow. This is one of the reasons why it feels so grand.

In the harmonies from bars 1 to 8, you want to be aware of the speed at which you raise the pitch of the choking, and the speed and depth of the vibrato.

The first half of bar 12 means "play five notes in two beats."

2004 volume 8 guitar breakers from theydrewblood.blogspot.com

[octuscle]

My professor gave me a zero on my essay for no reason! I did the work! When I asked him why he said that it was because I was a jock and jocks always fail his class. It’s time for payback!

Seriously, what do you expect from a professor of German studies named Dr. Kurt-Heinrich Schulte Obermeier? He's a Westphalian lateral thinker with Prussian discipline oozing from his every pore. Immaculate hairstyle, perfectly fitting suits, first-class pressed shirts. Handkerchief and tie always coordinated with great taste. A luminary in matters of German post-war literature. And an asshole as a professor.

I am a natural scientist. Sort of. According to my self-image as a support staff member. I'm of the opinion that the world isn't a worse place with one less Germanist in it. If he spends his time on meaningful things instead of Günther Grass.

When he wakes up the next morning, he feels fresh and rested. Dr. Kurt Obermeier is one of the youngest research assistants to have ever worked at your university. He is cool. He knows he's clever. But he's a good tutor and even if he's always dressed a bit stuffy, you can have fun with him. Rather atypical for a German studies student, you can even meet him in the sports bar in the evening. When the German soccer league is on.

Curt Meier is a WASP like no other. Although half of him is not Anglo-Saxon but German. That's why he decided to study business administration and German studies. Out of pure interest. He doesn't need to earn any money anyway, he lives off his parents' money. And he lives off the occasional modeling job. Curt is New England incarnate. Cultured, educated. And in his beauty, he is unfortunately also a little boring. But what do you expect from someone who plays cricket?

Yo, dude! Check it out, this Curtis Meyers guy, man, he's like, totally not fitting in at the uni, you know? Button-down shirts? Rugby shirts? That ain't his vibe at all. He's all about football jerseys, bro. But honestly, he only throws those on when he has to. In German studies? Forget about it. The professor thinks he's gotta dress fancy? Ridiculous, man! If they kicked him out for that, he'd be damn happy. He only picked this damn major 'cause he thought it was gonna be all about Thor and Wotan and all those badass demigods, you feel me? They're awesome. But Rilke and Heine? Hell no. And their language, man! Who the hell came up with that? Must've had a sunstroke that day, dude. Oh, and what's up with the sun? Time to link up with the boys and toss some balls on the field...

Mike Curtis hated university, man. Those snobby dudes there were just dumbasses and annoying as hell. Too dumb to take out the trash properly. Too lazy to clean up their own mess. Keeping the campus clean was a crappy job. He especially hated that German Studies building. Full of stuck-up know-it-alls. All a bunch of weaklings. Supposedly Mike had some German great-grandfather or something. What a load of crap! What kind of dumbass has two last names? Anyway, Mike supposedly got his German looks from him. Also bullshit! That was all sweat and hard work in the gym. Mike didn't inherit nothing. He earned everything he got. And he was damn proud of it!

Mike is not a jock in the strict sense of the word. But certainly more than Professor Dr. Schulte Obermeier. I don't think you have anything more to fear from him, Bro. As long as you separate the garbage properly.

[alottiegoingon]

peanuts

lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: the one where you bring pb&j sandwiches for lottie everyday since you were 9.

warnings: so much fluffiness i might throw up, short silly fic, lottie and reader are childhood friends and secretly in love, no crash, lottie has a bad relationship with her parents, cute little unexpected ending i guess?, english mistakes, not proofread

you and lottie were friends since you were nine years old.

you remember being inside the car with your parents when you moved to new jersey. the roads were bumpy before you could make it to the city of wiskayok. still, you insisted on carrying a book with you during the entire trip, knowing that you would feel nauseous in no time. your parents warned you but, as the quiet and moody kid that didn't want to move, you ignored their advice.

trying to focus on anything else besides your upset stomach, you place the book titled "matilda" by roald dahl, in perfect condition, by your side and decide to enjoy the view outside as the car moves along from the backseat. it wasn't a lifesaver but it was better than feeling your head heavy as you read the tiny words in the paper.

the houses were all the same. boring, lifeless and with a few flowers or bushes outside just to bring some color. what a lame city, you thought. no colorful houses, fun playgrounds or a nice park in sight. but that changed at the exact same moment as you saw lottie's house. a perfect planned garden in the front and impeccably painted walls capable of telling anyone that the house was pretty, yes, but the people living inside of it were superior. liking or not, the house was pretty but not as far pretty as her.

lottie was upstairs in the window of her bedroom when you saw her, you couldn't decide if she was staring outside like she was waiting for something or just watching people go by as if she was trapped inside. either way, she waved at you and, hesitantly, you waved back.

the following years consisted in sleepovers, movie nights and little discussions in the book club you two invented. safe to say that you became best friends almost too immediately.

lottie was a loner when she was home with no one to watch her except for a old lady that worked for the matthew's as a housekeeper or a nanny. you never knew and she was scary. playing pranks on her was almost a daily occurrence and an invention of lottie. like dyeing her clothes pink or switching salt and sugar and watching the distorted face of pure horror and agony in lottie's parents faces during dinner, when they invited you over. you and lottie had to cover your mouth or look down to not laugh but couldn't ever not exchange glances across the table.

her parents knew, of course. "your parents must be waiting for you. it's late isn't it?" was lottie's moms way of telling you to leave. you would say goodbye to lottie and hold her hand extra tight, knowing that the second the door closed behind you, you would hear her parents scolding her. you could see a curious mix between fear and excitement in her eyes when you were about to leave and you thought that that would be the last time she would prank that poor lady, but no. she would always come up with something new. deep down you knew that she was just craving attention from her parents and she would be glad to accept some mean words from them if it meant that they would talk to her instead of disappearing in work.

every day after the pranks were the same. the next morning, you showed up at school with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. one for you and the other one for lottie, of course. maybe it was your way of supporting her as you could. as a nine year old, peanut butter sandwiches were your favorite and you would always eat them if you were feeling sad. you never knew why she would eat it entirely and as fast as she could, kiss your cheek and run away, telling you she was late. it was lunch time and she was nine. what could she possibly be late for?

but the smile on her face exposing her teeth shaped like little fangs every single time she saw you with a simple extra sandwich on hands made just for her, became your new favorite thing in the world.

during your teenage years, nothing changed. almost nothing. lottie was still a loner at home but was kind of a popular girl at school. not like your other friend jackie, but still popular. you and lottie tried for the wiskayok high yellowjackets; a girl's soccer team. you both made it to the team and quickly made some new friendships but nothing as close as what you two had. you were popular as well, sure, but you didn't care about that. it took you a few weeks to realize that jackie was popular because of her personality. you, lottie and other girls were popular because you were on the team.

regardless, after every unsuccessful exam, every bad moment with lottie's parents, every failed practice day, you were right by her side holding a sandwich with silly drawings made out of peanut butter and jelly. despite being best friends, you were both changing. different hair, different ways of dressing, different ways to look at each other. the only thing that never truly changed was the smile on lottie's lips and it was exactly like how you remember from when you were nine.

there was that one day when lottie had an awful day at practice after a fight with her parents last night and she was sitting on the aluminun bench in the locker room. she had her head down and her dark curls styled in low pigtails.

"hi." you sit by her side. she looks up and you notice her red eyes. "hi." she whispers. lottie would never let people see her in vulnerable moments but near you, she wouldn't hide a thing.

"should i go to your house in the middle of the night and dye your parents clothes pink like when we were kids?" your voice was playful but you knew that if the answer was yes, you would happily do it.

you feel your heart beating faster as you hear lottie's breathy laugh and feel proud of yourself for making her happy now. then, in a few seconds, the weak smile faded and the locker room fell into silence.

"do you think i'm a freak?" her words make your heart shatter. lottie would tell you everything, except from that one big secret thing that she was forbidden to talk about by her parents. you never mentioned it after noticing how she would get uncomfortable. or after noticing how her parents would always change the conversation to something else if she was blabbing too much. or when you saw a small orange bottle with pills inside with a label that said "charlotte matthews".

you take a moment to think of something to say until you realize that there was no right thing. lottie just wanted support. she needed your support. "i think you are strong." you say. you knew that she didn't have a choice, she had to be strong. but yet, it was something you admired in her.

"lott, i don't know what is happening and i won't ever force you to tell me. but i know you for years now and i know what you are." she remains quiet but at least she's still looking at you.

"you are so smart. brilliant, actually. you are great at soccer, you have an amazing fashion sense" you joke "a heart of gold."

"and you are beatiful."

lottie says nothing but you can see a subtle spark of relief in her eyes. instead, she hops closer to you and rest her head on your shoulder. you do the same, gently laying your head on top of hers. you were staring at that same old boring blue locker in front of you when you feel lottie's hand grabbing yours. you feel nothing but euphoria when she intertwined your fingers together as your hands were placed between you two.

your smile was so wide that you were actually happy that lottie couldn't see you. and you couldn't see her face as well but something was telling you that she was also smiling while her thumb was Involuntarily caressing your hand. you weren't sure if that was something that best friends did, at least not in such an intimate way. but you were hoping that it meant something more.

you hear steps getting louder and realize that practice was over and the girls were coming to change clothes. unanimously, you two distance yourselves from each other just in time and, taking a quick glance at lottie, you see her face entirely red.

"are you okay, lottie? we were worried. jackie said that she can dismiss you tomorrow." shauna gets closer to you two, touching lottie's shoulder and squeezing it softly in reassurance.

"it's okay. i'm all good." she looks up and smiles at her friend.

you stand up and grab your backpack, pulling out a small paper bag with something unmistakable inside. lottie and shauna look at you and still feeling a bit shaky, you handle it to lottie with a shy smirk and lots of mumble.

"peanut butter sandwich. to make you feel better, you know the drill, right?" you laugh awkwardly and lottie's cheeks that were just going back to its original color, got pinkish again. the same old smile was also there.

"thank you. movie night tonight?" she asks full of hope.

"absolutely. can't wait to watch drew barrymore in scream." you nod excitedly. later that night you would find out that she would only appear in the screen for ten minutes and lottie would make fun of you for that.

after you left, shauna tapped lottie's shoulder to catch her attention. she looked at shauna but her hands were carefully holding the paper bag against her body as if she was taking care of something precious.

"i thought you were allergic to peanuts?" shauna furrows her brows.

"yeah. but it's their favorite."

[pablitogavii]

Can you write something angsty and smuttywith Gavi, having a hard time because of the alc, thinking that reader will want to leave him because he’s no longer doing football but she reassures him ? Thanksss

Be mine

Some months after the injury, Pablo really got into a depressive state and the two of you broke up. He said he wasn't giving you what he deserve and wanted you to keep going without him.

Restless nights, tears and screaming followed as you begged him not to do all of this. You knew he loved you, but you also stopped recognizing this boy as your Pablo.

There was no more smile, laughs and positivity in his life. You understood what he was going through and wanted to stay besides him but when he asked you to leave, that's all you could do.

After three months, you were finally sleeping again and didn't cry at least once a day. You had to keep living and despite missing him more every day, you decided to give your dating life a chance again.

angel: can't wait to see you!

you: me too :)

After replying you looked through your wardrobe for an outfit internally thanking yourself for packing away Gavi's jerseys into a box so you don't see them. It was a hard day but it helped you be able to move on somehow.

You called Mikky to show her your options and she was currently on the call glad to see you finally smiling again.

"Is he a nice guy, or should I get the boys to fix him up for you???" she said and you smiled knowing he talked about players who were still your closest friends. They were all disappointed when they heard about the breakup.

"He's sweet. We don't know each other that well" you say putting on the jewelry feeling a lump in your throat wondering if you're making a big mistake. But then you reminded yourself that Pablo wanted you to leave ... and you had to move on.

"I'm glad you're in this place now girl, it warms my heart to see your smile again" she said and you smiled nodding your head and refocusing on getting ready for your date.

Meanwhile Frenkie, Pedri and Balde went to visit Pablo at home where he lived in complete chaos. His parents traveled back home for some work and he was in even worse state than before.

"Y/n's going on a date tonight ..." Frenkie said and everyone gave him a stern look. But he had something in mind ... he knew Pablo still loved you and he needed to snap out of all of it.

"Frenkie!" Pedri said and Pablo looked at him with terrified face

"He needs to hear the truth! You broke up with a love of your life who wanted to be there fore you! You're a fool Gavi!" Frenkie said and Pablo was gulping fighting back tears.

"This isn't helping him hermano ..." Balde said when pablo went to the bathroom not wanting to cry in front of the boys.

"This is the only thing that can help him" Frenkie said.

Meanwhile Pablo opened instagram only to find your new post ...it was true ...he messed it all up ...you're not his anymore.

y.n.bebe

Barcelona, Spain

Date night 🍷

comentarios:

mikkykiemeney: beautiful 😍

y.n.bebe: 💗💗💗

gavibaby: i can't get over that it's not with gavi 😨

pablitoo: she belongs with gaviiii😍

y.n.fanss: they are no longer together so respect her!

pedri: miss you hermanita!

y.n.bebe: miss you!!!

ansufati: we need to hang out soon!

y.n.bebe: yesss!!!

barcafans: everyone loves y/n!!!

y.n.bebe: siempre cule!

Pablo couldn't get comfortable to sleep that night. All he could think about is where you were, who you were with, and weather you were safe ... he just wanted you safe in his arms right now.

The whole dinner you were bored ...the guy was trying really hard ...but you couldn't help think of the first date you had with Gavi ...the way you looked at each other ...the butterflies in your stomach.

Just then the last thing you expected happened, your phone rang and you saw Pablo's message on the screen. You froze. His name on your screen was a nice memory.

pablitooo: please come over. i need you. it's important.

you: On my way

You excused yourself taking an Uber and giving them Pablo's address. You were so nervous praying that he was fine no matter what. The first thought is that he fell and got more hurt.

You knocked and Pablo slowly walked towards the door feeling sweaty and nervous. He was gonna see you first time since few months. He slowly opened reveling your worried eyes.

"Thank God you're fine" was all you said and he smiled remembering how panicked you used to be whenever he would get hurt especially since the surgery. He missed that.

"Please come in preciosa ..." Pablo said and you felt a shiver move down your spine, that nickname.

"Would you like coffee or tea? I still have your black tea." he said and you said it was fine because you didn't want him to stand on that leg knowing he must still be in pain.

"You look beautiful tonight ... and always" he said and you blushed. God why was Gavi flirting with you now. It drove you mad as usual.

"I had a date ..." you said seeing his eyes drop. It was hurting him but you wanted to see if he even cared anymore.

"I know ... Frenkie told me today" he said after gulping heavily

"Of course he did. What did you want?" you say trying to keep guard because after giving up on you he really did hurt you. It was obvious tho that he still and always will own your heart ... after all you were at his house now.

"I wanted to take you away from him. I couldn't handle it preciosa. I'm sorry." he said and you appreciated that he was honest. You knew it was the truth because you knew he still loved you too.

"You calling me preciosa ..." you say and he interrupted

"I'm sorry" he said quietly

"I missed it" you said and it was a grand surprise for him.

"I don't deserve you ..." he said turning around and you sigh getting up and walking to him sitting down on his lap making sure it's on his healthy leg.

"Are you pushing me away again Pablito ..." you say running your fingers through his hair and he looked up at you with tearful eyes.

"Besame ..." you whisper and he sighs staring at your lips longingly.

"I'm broken preciosa ... and broken people break others" he was crying now and you were caressing his face resting your forehead against his.

"I'm broken without you ..." you were crying too now and he held your face drying off your tears and finally done what he should have done the first moment he saw you again. His lips were dancing with yours as everything suddenly stopped and you were each others whole world.

"Be mine ...please be mine again" he was gasping into your mouth and you smiled nodding fast and continuing to kiss him repeatedly feeling hungry and desperate.

pablogavi

Be mine?

comentarios:

y.n.bebe: always yours 😍😍😍

gavi.y.n.fans: YES! YES! YES!

gavii: finally my heart is whole!!!

mikkykiemeney: OMG😍😍😍

y.n.bebe: hehehe🥺🥺🥺

frenkiedejong: finally hermano!

pablogavi: thank you hermano❤️❤️

pedri:❤️❤️❤️

alejandrobalde: parentsss

y.n.bebe: favorite son😂😂😂

ansufati: amigaaa mia i love you with my best friend!!!

y.n.bebe: love you amigooo!!!

y.n.bebe

I belong with him 💗💗💗

comentarios:

pablogavi: amorrr preciosa miaaa❤️❤️

comments limited

[zoobus]

I noticed in the tags for that post about white people clinging to historical ancestor culture stuff in order to "avoid" doing cultural Appropriation had "white people have no culture is one of the worst winning soundbytes of 2010s SJ". Isn't that true though? That white folks gave up what culture they had to assimilate into a blob of "whiteness" to contrast as "not those people?"

You guys are killing me with this shit. What does this even mean? What would it mean for a group to not have a culture? Assimilate? What are the previous cultures assimilating to if there's nothing there?

WASPs, football worshipping rednecks, Appalachian hillbillies, Minnesota Nice, valley girls, the Amish, the Mormons, laid-back cali surfers, bible thumping patriots, granola Oregon hippies, jersey shore, Florida crazy, New York bodega mentality. What created these? How did these stereotypes form when white people have nothing

Just because you think it's boring doesn't mean it's not real, like I genuinely can't wrap my head around attempting to lump what would ***have*** to be dozens of cultures into one and then insisting the paste you just made up is nothing. Culture doesn't require you to find it interesting or cool to exist. It just happens. It's the natural output of humans living around each other.

[annievrse]

[college] basketball!eren

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons a/n: guys i’m back in the waiting room (& it’s fkn hot today)……… let’s write some headcanons!!

a few points i've made in my bf!eren headcanons:

in basketball games against certain colleges, bf!eren gets so fired up and aggressive and lippy. he talks so much shit on the court (he's known for it), and isn't afraid to take shit either (which pisses off the other team, and the whole cycle starts again). but, it's a bonus for you when he gets off the court because he's looking extra hot..... and he knows it...... asshole

you wear bf!eren's spare jersey to his basketball games

bf!eren with a chain under his basketball jersey, his hair tied back and a thin headband, tape on his dodgy shoulder......... oh lordy

bf!eren's post-game meal is 3 big macs and 2 mcchickens AND a kids nugget meal (he wants to give you the toy that comes with it because he’s cute) but don’t forget dessert!! he sips his *diet* coke as a palate cleanser and then inhales an apple pie

bf!eren gets a job coaching a kids' basketball team, and that is a canon event

now i will elaborate....

basketball!eren wears nba jerseys in everyday life with sweat shorts & dunks/vans/birkenstocks (with socks) he is an effortlessly stylish college athlete ok he can pull off anything

basketball!eren has a piece of sports tape around his wrist with your name written in marker <3 (points to it whenever he scores if you aren’t there (e.g. games on the other side of the country), otherwise his finger is on you in the crowd)

whenever his favourite team is playing (call him basic, call him a bandwagon, but my man is in love with steph curry, so you know he supports golden state) & he can’t watch at home on the tv, basketball!eren sits and watches it on his phone (warning: he will speak to the phone like the team can hear him so keep an eye on him in public, especially at the library because he will yell)

basketball!eren got mvp in sophomore year (jean was like 2 points behind him) and he holds it over jean’s head because he is cheeky and a dick

basketball!eren wears a suit to and from his games (specifically a navy one with a white shirt, no tie, and its just so rahhhhhh) with his headphones on and a large cup of black coffee

now, i don't want to expose basketball!eren here, but in his headphones, only on game days, he plays taylor swift & rihanna

basketball!eren texts you nonstop when he's on the bus/plane to games (because connie is his seatmate (he loves him to death) but connie knocks the fuck out on these trips so eren gets very bored)

basketball!eren wears his hair in 2 styles when he plays: completely tied back with a thin headband or fully out with a thin headband (frothing over here sorry don't look at me: heavy emphasis on the 2nd style though)

basketball!eren has like a couple hundred thousand followers on instagram because he's a college basketball player and he's good and hot as fuck

basketball!eren posts photo dumps once a fortnight as a wrap-up for that time period because his life is so crazy hectic that he always has content for a new dump (i wish he was real guys)

basketball!eren loves loves showing you off (private but not secret on social media) & buying you gifts (instagram stories of your wrist with the new bracelet he gifted you for your birthday)

basketball!eren gets drafted in his senior year of college :') (chooses to graduate first and then go to the nba - he wasn't studying biomedical science for nothing!!! (not that he needs it anymore.......))

basketball!eren gets rookie of the year in his first season (crying)

[respectthepetty]

Happy Birthday, Kanghan!

I may be easy, but I'm not cheap, so I always like seeing how wealth is displayed in these BLs.

Max got Kanghan a limited film camera imported from the United States.

but . . . Kanghan isn't into photography.

Nawa got him a Liverpool jersey, No. 8, from the 2005 UEFA Champions League, but I'm going out on a limb and assuming Liverpool is not Kanghan's favorite team (Messi is Inter Miami now, so forget those European team, and come on over to the United States side of life, sir).

Pimfah painted him a portrait

Which he liked the most.

I think Kanghan likes Pimfah, so obviously he would like her gift, but . . . *put a pin in it*

Kanghan's dad got him the motorcycle, but he picked the model for Kanghan instead of letting Kanghan decide.

Sailom sang Kanghan "Happy Birthday" and grabbed a cake from Kanghan's fridge for him.

Kanghan isn't even aware of what is in his own fridge, so he was surprised that Sailom had asked the staff for it, but he was genuinely thankful for it.

Because it isn't just about liking the person (IF Kanghan does, in fact, like Pimfah), but about the effort. *take that pin out from earlier*

When Kanghan's friends ask what Sailom got him

Sailom answers that he wasn't aware it was Kanghan's birthday (even though they spent the entire day together *put another pin in it*)

And this could be a subtitle choice, but it's interesting that Sailom says he didn't "prepare" anything rather than he didn't "buy" anything.

We know Sailom doesn't have McDonald's money, but Pimfah didn't purchase anything and Kanghan liked her gift the most because it took effort.

AND IT WAS SURPRISING!

But why not skip tutoring, so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends? Why spend all day with Sailom, yet not tell him that it was his birthday? *take the second pin out*

Because he wanted to spend his birthday with Sailom without making it about him. And this possibly started the night before.

The boys didn't leave the school until after 10 pm; then, Kanghan detoured to the restaurant "just cause", so it had to be late when they left there.

A few people have written that Kanghan isn't lonely. He has a grandmother who loves him. He has friends who want to hang out with him. So why did he want to spend the night going into his birthday with Sailom?

Then proceed to spend all night with him the next day?

Because he enjoys spending time with Sailom, sure.

But it's because the time he spends with Sailom is full of surprises.

Every interaction he has with Sailom surprises him. Kanghan, who is bored with his life and money, finds Sailom unpredictable, for good reason.

Sailom brings up a lot of feelings™ in Kanghan because Kanghan never knows what to expect, so Kanghan is acting out in less predictable ways as well.

Because he doesn't know how to describe what is happening, but he knows the feelings™ Sailom evokes in him are real.

And that's what Kanghan is really craving - something real.

He has his kingdom of cardboard and trash.

He could buy anything he wants, so he wants nothing.

His two best friends get him gifts that he doesn't even care about. His father makes decisions for him, so he doesn't have to think. But Sailom gives him something different, something new, something real, and something worth the effort - Sailom gives Kanghan himself.

Sailom has nothing else to give Kanghan but himself. The cake comes from Kanghan's own fridge. The guitar for the song is borrowed. But Sailom gives Kanghan his attention, which is all Kanghan really wants.

So Happy Birthday, Kanghan!

I hope you enjoy your present!

[sirenshiddencove]

"I'm bored. This play isn't any fun." -Marigold

"Mhm." -Cherry

Marigold belongs to my lovely friend @mina-star

Cherry is my New Jersey Rats oc!

[reallygroovyninja]

Indra stood at the head of the long library table, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her faculty, each seated in the historic wooden chairs that had been part of Arkadia High's library for decades. The overhead lights illuminated the rich mahogany of the shelves, filled with books that silently bore witness to countless staff meetings.

Clearing her throat, she began, “I understand Spirit Week might seem like it's primarily for the students, but I'd like to emphasize the importance of faculty participation. Our students look up to you all. Your enthusiasm—or lack thereof—sets a tone for the entire school. I urge each of you, from the PE department to the sciences, from math to art, to dive in wholeheartedly. Let's show the students that school spirit isn't bound by age or subject. Let's make this Spirit Week memorable, not just for them, but for us as well." Indra's voice, authoritative yet warm, resonated with an unmistakable passion, compelling even the most reticent teachers to consider embracing the week's festivities.

Indra adjusted her glasses and glanced at the list in front of her. "Alright, everyone, the student council has made their decisions for this year's Spirit Week themes," she began, trying to infuse her voice with a hint of excitement.

"Monday will be Pajama Day, followed by 60's Day on Tuesday. Wednesday will be College or Pro Sports T-shirt Jersey Day. Thursday is designated for Movie Character Day, and we'll wrap up the week with School Colors Day on Friday." She paused, waiting for the reaction she knew was coming.

A collective groan echoed through the library. Ms. McIntyre, the history teacher, sighed dramatically, "Every year, it's the same thing. You'd think they'd get creative for once." Mr. Pike, from the PE department, chimed in, "I've lost track of how many jerseys I've worn on Wednesdays." Indra chuckled, understanding their sentiments, "We might know what to expect, but remember, for some of our students, this is their first Spirit Week. Let's make it count for them."

Indra saw the palpable sense of deja vu among the teachers and decided to introduce a twist. "However," she began, drawing the room's attention with the slight rise in her voice, "the student council introduced an incentive this year. The student displaying the most spirit throughout the week will be awarded a $500 gift certificate. But, they didn’t forget about you all." She smiled wryly, catching the twinkle in a few teachers' eyes.

"The teacher who goes above and beyond, showcasing the most spirit, will receive a $250 gift certificate. So, let’s see which one of us can give our students a run for their money!" The atmosphere in the room shifted from mild dread to competitive enthusiasm as murmurs of challenge buzzed between colleagues.

As the room settled into a hive of chatter, teachers contemplating how to win the coveted gift certificate, Clarke turned to Lexa, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new challenge. "So, are you up for a little competition this year?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "I have to say, a $250 gift certificate could buy a lot of art supplies—or in your case, possibly the fanciest graphing calculator ever made." Clarke's teasing smile met Lexa's composed but amused gaze.

For a moment, the world beyond the two of them seemed to fade into a mere backdrop, the other teachers' voices a distant murmur. In that instant, it wasn't just about the gift certificate or even Spirit Week; it was an unspoken acknowledgment of the camaraderie and gentle rivalry that had always danced between them. Lexa's eyes twinkled as she leaned in, whispering, "Challenge accepted, Clarke. May the most spirited teacher win."

Indra noticed the competitive sparkle that had ignited in her teachers' eyes, satisfied that her announcement had sparked more enthusiasm than she'd first sensed. "Alright, if there are no further questions, let's call it a day and gear up for a memorable Spirit Week next week. Meeting adjourned."

The faculty began to rise, chairs scraping against the wooden floor, but the atmosphere had shifted from routine resignation to spirited speculation. As the teachers filed out of the library, each wore a thoughtful expression, already lost in strategic calculations.

Ms. McIntyre was heard mumbling about recreating a '60s protest sign that would blend history with spirit. Mr. Pike flexed his arms, contemplating how many sports jerseys he could layer on without causing heatstroke. Clarke and Lexa exchanged one last look, their smiles a mutual promise of the spirited battle to come.

There was a newfound spring in everyone's step; if Spirit Week was a game, then this year, it had suddenly become a high-stakes tournament, and each teacher left plotting their moves to outwit, outplay, and outlast.

The evening air was cool when Lexa arrived at Clarke's inviting house, a place soon to be their shared home. Clarke greeted her with a smile, the comfort of their time together contrasting the semi-chaos of the house. Amidst the boxes labeled 'Lexa's Books' and 'Clarke's Art Supplies,' it was clear they were gearing up for a new chapter together.

"So, I've been thinking," Lexa began cautiously, setting down her overnight bag by the entryway, "For Spirit Week, what if I stay at my own apartment? That way, our outfits can be a surprise for each other every day."

Clarke chuckled, her eyes twinkling with both amusement and affection. "You really are taking this challenge seriously, aren't you?"

Lexa nodded, her face a playful blend of seriousness and excitement. "Absolutely. Do we have a deal?" Clarke grinned, captivated by Lexa's enthusiasm. "Deal," she agreed. With a knowing smile, they leaned in and shared a lingering kiss, sealing their playful pact for the week ahead.

The first rays of Monday morning painted the Arkadia High courtyard in a soft, golden light. Students, still groggy from the weekend, shuffled in, casting curious glances around to see which of their peers and teachers had embraced Pajama Day.

Among them, Lexa made her entrance, capturing more than a few amused stares and chuckles. Clad in a cozy, dark-hued pajama set, she confidently strode in, the words "Come to the dark side, we have π" boldly printed across her top.

Her choice of sleepwear, a playful nod to her math specialization, was as much a statement of her personality as it was her commitment to Spirit Week. As students whispered and pointed, it was clear that Lexa had set a spirited tone for the week, and many wondered how the other teachers, especially Clarke, would rise to the challenge.

Just as the school was buzzing over Lexa's clever pajama set, Clarke pulled into the parking lot, igniting a fresh wave of chatter among the students.

She stepped out of her car wearing a rainbow unicorn onesie, complete with a horn on the hood and a colorful tail. Across the chest, in bold, glittering letters, read the phrase "I Don't Believe in Humans." As she walked through the courtyard toward the school building, students couldn't help but stop and stare, their eyes widening in both amusement and admiration.

Clarke's artful approach to Spirit Week was unmistakable, and her whimsical onesie instantly became the talk of the school. She wore the outfit with an air of casual confidence, as if unicorn attire was just another artistic medium for her.

When Clarke and Lexa finally crossed paths, their eyes met, and for a moment, their playful outfits said more than words ever could—each had brought their A-game to Spirit Week, and the competition was on.

During their brief encounter in the teachers' lounge, amidst a sea of equally spirited but far less creative pajamas, Lexa leaned in close to Clarke and spoke softly. "Alright, I'll admit, you may have outdone me for Pajama Day. That unicorn onesie is a work of art—literally."

Clarke grinned triumphantly, enjoying her moment of glory. Lexa's eyes, however, twinkled with a sense of impending triumph. "But just wait until 60's Day. That's where I'll claim victory. I've got something special planned, something that even your artistic mind couldn't conjure."

Clarke looked at Lexa with a mix of curiosity and excitement, wondering just what the math teacher had up her sleeve. "Challenge accepted," Clarke said, her voice tinged with anticipation. "May the best outfit win." And with that, they shared a smile that carried the weight of a friendly rivalry and the deep affection that underlay it all.

On Tuesday's 60's Day, the Arkadia High courtyard came alive with the echoes of a bygone era. Among the students sporting flower crowns and band tees, Clarke's entrance became one of the day's spectacles.

She emerged from her car in a vibrant tie-dye shirt that danced with swirls of purples, blues, and greens, making it look as though a rainbow had melted upon her. Paired with her top were high-waisted flare jeans that accentuated her stature, giving off a carefree yet confident aura. She wore a pair of round, oversized sunglasses, their tinted lenses reflecting the morning sunlight.

Around her neck, she had a peace-sign pendant, and her feet were adorned with brown, fringed sandals. To complete the look, a simple braided headband held back her loose, wavy hair, emphasizing her dedication to the day's theme. As Clarke stepped onto the school grounds, she personified the very spirit of the 60s, her outfit a testament to her innate ability to merge creativity with authenticity.

Not long after Clarke's entrance, another car rolled into the Arkadia High parking lot, and out stepped Lexa, providing the next big reveal of 60's Day.

She was a vision of mod fashion, challenging the bohemian vibes set by her counterpart. Wearing a mini skirt that featured a bold geometric pattern, Lexa paired it with a form-fitting sweater in a contrasting color, amplifying her look's retro edge.

But what really turned heads were her knee-high leather boots, polished to a shine and perfectly complementing her ensemble. As Lexa walked through the school, her boots clicked with each step, emanating an aura of absolute confidence. The math teacher had indeed made good on her promise: her 60's Day outfit was a masterstroke of style and strategy, one that captivated students and faculty alike.

When Clarke caught sight of Lexa in the hallway, clad in her 60's-inspired mini skirt and knee-high boots, her heart skipped more than a beat. Lexa exuded a kind of effortless sensuality that caught Clarke utterly off guard, making it almost impossible to focus on the friendly competition at hand.

While the whole point of this week was to surprise each other with their Spirit Week outfits, for a fleeting moment Clarke regretted their decision to keep their living arrangements separate for the duration.

The thought of not being able to see Lexa first thing in the morning and last thing at night, especially when she looked this captivating, left her with a sense of longing she couldn't easily shake.

The playful rivalry was still there, but it had taken on a new, electric charge that neither of them could ignore. Clarke took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart, knowing that the week had just become more intriguing in ways she hadn't anticipated.

Clarke and Lexa bumped into each other in the deserted hallway, their eyes meeting over the vivid splashes of 60's fashion they each wore. "You look like a real-life Woodstock poster," Lexa commented, visibly impressed.

Clarke chuckled, her eyes drifting over Lexa's form-fitting ensemble. "And you're channeling the Swinging Sixties in London so well, it's hard to remember we're in a high school in 2023." The tension between them was palpable, charged with something more than their usual friendly competitiveness.

Seizing the moment, Clarke glanced around and noticed her art classroom door was ajar, the room empty. "Come here," she said softly, grabbing Lexa's hand and pulling her into the empty space.

As the door closed behind them, Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can't help it; you look amazing," she confessed, before pressing her lips to Lexa's.

For a few suspended seconds, the world outside—the students, Spirit Week, the competition—faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in a kiss that seemed to say what words could not.

When they finally pulled apart, both were slightly breathless but smiling, knowing that regardless of who won Spirit Week, they had something infinitely more valuable.

Clarke felt a magnetic pull towards Lexa that she couldn't resist. Her hand gently touched Lexa's cheek, her eyes meeting those striking green orbs for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more intentional, as if they were sealing an unspoken pact between them. However, just as their lips met and they began to lose themselves in the moment, the harsh sound of the school bell rang out, shattering the intimate bubble they had created.

They pulled away, their eyes meeting in a mix of frustration and amusement. "Well, duty calls," Clarke said, her voice tinged with a regretful smile. Lexa nodded, her eyes still locked onto Clarke's. "Yes, it does, but this is far from over." They shared a knowing glance before reluctantly heading out of the classroom, each lost in thought.

Throughout the bustling day at Arkadia High, the school's empty spaces bore silent witness to a series of clandestine moments. At every opportune moment, Clarke, driven by a potent mixture of affection, playful mischief, and perhaps even a dash of Spirit Week fervor, found a way to steer Lexa into a momentarily deserted classroom or a conveniently shadowed supply closet.

The door would barely have time to click shut before Clarke would close the distance between them, capturing Lexa's lips in soft, lingering kisses. These weren't just displays of affection; they were little stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of the school day.

Every time they emerged, there was a slight flush to their cheeks, their smiles barely suppressed, as if they were privy to a secret the rest of the school could only guess at. Lexa began to anticipate these spontaneous rendezvous, the unpredictability adding a layer of excitement to the rhythm of their day. The spirit of competition and the gentle tug of romance had them both ensnared in a dance only they understood.

Wednesday dawned, bringing with it the anticipated College/Pro sports t-shirt jersey day. Most of the Arkadia High staff approached the theme with predictable choices, donning jerseys and shirts of well-known teams.

However, Clarke wasn't one to be outdone, especially with what many deemed a rather straightforward theme. She arrived donning an ink-splashed jersey that immediately drew attention. The vibrant, artistic streaks on the fabric clashed with the neat logo of the Polis University Commanders, her cherished alma mater.

The jersey was a work of art, turning the concept of a mere sports jersey into a canvas of memories, creativity, and loyalty. It wasn't just a nod to her college days; it was a beautiful blend of her past and present, her love for art merging seamlessly with the pride of her university years.

Whispers filled the hallways as both students and faculty members paused to appreciate her ingenious take on the day's theme. Clarke had once again redefined the norms, making a simple jersey day into a statement of her unique identity.

As the morning bell neared, Lexa made her entrance, and it was nothing short of dramatic. Instead of opting for a traditional jersey or t-shirt, she arrived clad in her Arkadia College fencing outfit, a crisp white ensemble that hugged her form, perfectly tailored to every curve and muscle.

The mesh mask dangled casually from her hand, and her foil was secured in a sleek case strapped to her back. The Arkadia College emblem proudly adorned her chest, reflecting her dedication to the sport during her collegiate years.

The sight was both surprising and mesmerizing, drawing a mix of admiring and puzzled glances from students and colleagues alike. It wasn't just a nod to her alma mater, but also a bold statement about her passion and expertise in a sport that demanded precision, discipline, and elegance.

While Clarke had turned the theme into a canvas of creativity, Lexa showcased the art of mastery and skill, reminding everyone that there was more to her than met the eye. The dynamic duo had once again turned an ordinary theme day into a memorable spectacle.

The moment Clarke caught sight of Lexa in her fencing ensemble, her breath hitched. Even though they'd been together for over a year, Lexa's ability to leave her awestruck never waned. The Arkadia College fencing attire suited her perfectly tailored in a way that accentuated her athletic build, making her appear both elegant and formidable.

Clarke was reminded once again just how multifaceted Lexa was; a mathematician, a fencer, a strategic mind, and an incredibly attractive woman. The sleek lines of the white outfit seemed to make Lexa glow, highlighting her already striking features.

Clarke felt a familiar warmth spreading through her, part pride and part desire, as she realized just how fortunate she was to be in a relationship with someone as amazing as Lexa. In a sea of standard jerseys and college t-shirts, Lexa was a vision, taking Clarke's breath away just as easily as she had the very first time they met.

Finding themselves alone in the break room during a brief lull in the school day, Clarke seized the opportunity to comment on Lexa's striking outfit. Her eyes swept appreciatively over Lexa's fencing attire, finally meeting Lexa's gaze with a look that was equal parts admiration and desire.

"You know, I've seen you in various outfits, but this fencing gear is something else," Clarke murmured, her voice tinged with a sense of awe that went beyond the fabric and embroidery. Lexa caught the look and felt a flutter of warmth, fully aware of the magnetic pull she was exerting at that moment. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Clarke. Besides, this uniform has always made me feel powerful," Lexa replied, locking eyes with Clarke as if challenging her to look away.

Clarke took a step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Well, mission accomplished. You look as powerful as you are captivating." The electricity in the room felt palpable, the air thick with the unspoken yet deeply felt connection between them.

Reading the unspoken invitation in Clarke's eyes, Lexa took a decisive step closer, closing the small distance that separated them in the break room. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this today," Lexa murmured softly, her voice tinged with a blend of anticipation and assurance.

Before Clarke could reply, Lexa leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that melded tenderness with passion, a perfect encapsulation of the intricate dance they'd been performing all week—sometimes playful, sometimes intense, but always filled with unspoken emotion.

The world seemed to narrow down to the space they occupied, the electric charge that had built up between them finding its release. When they finally pulled apart, Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes, both women understanding that no matter the playful competition or the chaos of Spirit Week, their connection remained the most captivating game of all.

On Thursday, the halls of Arkadia High were abuzz with excitement as students and teachers alike showcased their favorite movie characters. But the highlight of the morning was when Lexa walked in, embodying the iconic Princess Leia.

She had opted for Leia's classic white dress, the high-necked, flowing garment accentuating her figure while maintaining an aura of royalty. Her hair was meticulously styled in Leia's signature twin buns on either side of her head, and around her neck hung the silver necklace Leia wore.

The ensemble was completed with knee-high white boots. Students and teachers alike stopped to admire and compliment her choice, recognizing the strong, independent character she represented—a fitting choice for someone like Lexa, who embodied those same qualities in real life.

Clarke, especially, couldn't help but beam with pride and adoration, the sight of Lexa paying homage to one of cinema's most enduring heroines touching a special chord in her heart. The choice was perfect, blending Lexa's grace with the character's iconic strength.

In stark contrast but equally impactful, Clarke showed up as Sarah Connor from the "Terminator" movies. She was dressed in tactical cargo pants, a fitted tank top, and a faux-leather jacket, her look completed with combat boots and a pair of aviator sunglasses perched atop her head.

A toy gun was tucked into a belt holster, adding an extra layer of authenticity to her portrayal. Her biceps, normally hidden under her art-teacher attire, were on full display, and she even managed to rough up her usually clean-cut appearance with a smear of charcoal for makeshift battle grime.

Students and faculty were captivated by her transformation into the relentless, resourceful character, remarking how brilliantly she pulled it off. When Lexa saw her, she was visibly impressed, her eyes scanning Clarke from top to bottom.

Transformed into Sarah Connor, Clarke stood out not just because of her impeccable costume but also because of the raw power she exuded. Her normally gentle blue eyes were steely and determined, her posture radiated strength, and there was a swagger in her step that hinted at a newfound confidence.

Lexa, usually composed and eloquent, found herself without words. The transformation was more than just aesthetic; Clarke embodied the spirit of the fearless warrior she portrayed. Lexa had always known Clarke was strong, both in spirit and character, but seeing her like this — it was as if she was witnessing a side of Clarke she had always known existed but had never seen in full force. It was awe-inspiring, leaving Lexa spellbound and a little breathless, and it took her a few seconds to remember how to speak.

Regaining her composure, Lexa stepped closer to Clarke, her gaze unwavering as she took in every detail of the Sarah Connor ensemble.

"Clarke," Lexa started, her voice low and filled with genuine admiration, "I've always known you to be strong and capable, but this outfit—it amplifies everything about you. It's not just the strength of Sarah Connor that I see, but an undeniable allure. You've managed to embody both power and an alluring charm that's hard to ignore."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she caught the hint of desire in Lexa's eyes. "You think I'm sexy, huh?" she teased.

Lexa chuckled, her eyes dancing with unmistakable affection and a hint of desire. "Think? No, Clarke, I don't 'think' you're sexy. I know you're sexy in that outfit," she asserted, letting each word sink in.

"You've captured Sarah Connor's essence so perfectly that it amplifies your own innate strength and allure. It's not just attractive; it's magnetic." Lexa allowed her gaze to drift briefly over Clarke's form once more before locking eyes with her again. "Today, you're not just the art teacher or my incredible girlfriend; you're a force to be reckoned with. And yes, that is incredibly, undeniably sexy."

Clarke's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and pleasure, her grin stretching wider as she soaked in Lexa's words. It was a moment that encapsulated the balance of their relationship—both strong, both intense, and each finding the other irresistibly captivating.

Reading the mutual admiration in each other's eyes, the electric charge between them reached its natural crescendo. Lexa stepped closer, closing the gap that had felt too wide despite being only a few inches. The air grew thick with anticipation. "May I?" Lexa whispered, almost rhetorically, as Clarke's eyes answered before her lips could.

With that unspoken consent, Lexa gently cradled Clarke's face in her hands, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as Lexa leaned in, both of them feeling as if they were the only people in the world at that moment.

When their lips finally met, it was as if a current ran through them — a tender, yet potent connection that conveyed more than words ever could. The kiss was soft, lingering, a delicate expression of love and a potent reminder of the electric chemistry that they shared. They parted slowly, both slightly breathless, and Clarke couldn't help but think that if this was the power of Spirit Week, then let every week be so spirited.

When Clarke walked through the doors of Arkadia High on Friday morning, she felt the full weight of school spirit envelop her. The hallways were awash in the school's colors, but Clarke had decided to make her own unique statement for School Colors Day.

She wore a tasteful, tailored black pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees, paired with a crimson blouse that seemed to shimmer in the morning light. To complete her outfit, she donned a pair of stylish black ankle boots and a red and black scarf that perfectly captured the day's theme.

As she carried her art supplies to her classroom, she couldn't help but notice the approving glances from both students and faculty. It was clear that she'd nailed the spirit of the day, blending her own artistic flair with Arkadia High's iconic red and black. And as she spotted Lexa down the hall, her heart leapt with excitement, not just for the day ahead but for the simple joy of sharing this spirited week with the woman she loved.

Lexa, always one for understated elegance, chose to embody the spirit of the day in a way that reflected both her professional demeanor and her personal style. She wore a well-tailored black pantsuit that fit her like a glove, accentuating her lean frame.

Underneath the blazer, she opted for a deep red silk blouse that added a splash of vibrant color, contrasting strikingly with her dark attire. To complete the look, she added a narrow red tie, giving her outfit a final touch of school pride without compromising her inherent sophistication. On her feet, she wore black leather loafers that provided both style and comfort. As she made her way through the hallways of Arkadia High, she felt not just the school spirit but also her own unique contribution to it. When her eyes met Clarke's from across the corridor, she knew instantly that they had both succeeded in not just honoring their school's tradition, but in adding a bit of themselves into the mix.

Throughout the day, it seemed as though fate conspired to keep Lexa and Clarke apart. Whether it was meetings, classroom sessions running overtime, students needing additional attention, or even a misplaced set of keys, the pair could never quite find the elusive moment to connect.

Both were keenly aware of the other's presence in the building, feeling it like a magnetic pull, yet every time they seemed poised to intersect, something would come in the way. It was almost comical, and by lunchtime, the shared, almost telepathic glances they shot each other across the courtyard were ones of amused frustration.

The day's bustling activities culminated in the much-awaited pep rally for homecoming, and it was amidst the loud cheers, music, and colorful banners that Lexa and Clarke finally found themselves side by side. Their hands brushed against each other, a shared smile passed between them, and in the midst of the roaring school spirit, they found a quiet, intimate moment, understanding that sometimes, anticipation only sweetened the eventual reunion.

In the school's bustling gymnasium, anticipation hung thick in the air as the student council prepared to announce the Spirit Week winners. When the student winner's name was called out, a burst of cheers erupted from a corner of the gym, accompanied by the jubilant cries of the victor's friends.

However, it was the announcement of the teacher winner that caught most by surprise. The name "Ms. Reyes" echoed through the gym's speakers, causing many students to exchange shocked looks. The computer science teacher, always ensconced in her tech-laden classroom and generally perceived as reserved, was the last person most had expected to win.

As Ms. Reyes rose from her seat, a modest smile on her face, applause filled the gym. Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other in mild surprise, realizing that in their playful competition and mutual admiration, they hadn't noticed Ms. Reyes's quiet participation in Spirit Week. Yet, as they clapped along with the rest, both felt genuine happiness for their colleague, reminding them that sometimes, the quietest participants make the loudest impact.

As the announcement settled in and the applause for Ms. Reyes continued to resonate through the gymnasium, Lexa and Clarke simultaneously turned towards each other, a mixture of disbelief and amusement evident in their eyes.

Clarke, always the more expressive of the two, let out a light chuckle. "Raven Reyes, huh? Should've seen that coming," she remarked with a playful grin.

Lexa shook her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "Of all the people to be outdone by… Raven," she responded, her tone light and teasing.

They both knew Raven was a formidable force in her own right, always surprising everyone with her hidden talents and unwavering spirit. Their eyes locked in mutual mirth, and they both burst into soft laughter.

Neither had anticipated being bested by the computer science teacher, but the revelation only added to the fond memories of Spirit Week.

As the week's events concluded and the halls began to empty, the competition that had once seemed all-consuming was now just a fond memory. Clarke leaned against a locker, her gaze finding Lexa's across the corridor. "I've got to admit," Clarke began with a chuckle, "this was one of the most memorable Spirit Weeks I've ever experienced."

Lexa grinned, walking closer, "Agreed. And as much as I loved our little rivalry," she playfully nudged Clarke, "it's the shared moments and memories that matter the most."

Clarke nodded, "It's not about winning, but about the journey and the fun we had along the way."

The two exchanged a knowing smile, understanding that the true reward wasn't a title or prize, but the strengthened bond they'd forged amidst the playful challenges.

With the week behind them, they looked forward to many more shared experiences, knowing that every moment, competition or not, was an opportunity to grow closer together.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's Masterlist

❒ Requested ✓

「 A compilation of Chaeri and Jungkook caught on camera 」

Video posted on YouTube by chaekooknation

Hello everyone, this is chaekooknation speaking! I'm back with a compilation of videos and super-zoomed images of how Chaeri and Jungkook act when they think they're not in front of the cameras I'd like to remind everyone that this is a video purely for the enjoyment of fans who, like me, believe there's something more than friendship between the two of them ♡

clip one ⸻ 🎬

⠪ September 2018; Canada ⠪ At that time the members were on tour for the 'Love yourself world tour' ⠪ After the last Canadian stage in Hamilton we know that they stayed a couple of days there before leaving for New Jersey ⠪ We know this in particular because of a dinner they had one of those evenings ⠪ We all remember videos and photos posted by the staff of one of the most exclusive restaurants there ⠪ These include a video of Chaeri and Jungkook that is a bit suspicious, don't you think? ⠪ When she noticed that someone from the restaurant staff was filming her having her hand on Jk's face she made a shocked expression ⠪ Sis, why be surprised? You live constantly on camera ⠪ Unless you were about to do something that others should not know about ⠪ Anyway, she became smooth again after a second and moved her hand to the back of his neck ⠪ SUS

clip two ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 22.04.2017; After a vlive ⠪ For this picture we have to credit our Jin hyung who posted them on weverse without them knowing ⠪ I quote the description "Armys our maknae stayed with you as long as she could. Can we all agree to scold Jungkook for not letting her sleep in peace? Turn off the lights!" ⠪ Chaeri and Jungkook had spent almost an hour chatting with us armys ⠪ "I am in Jungkookie's(hotel) room now, when we say goodnight to you I will go back to mine." ⠪ SHE NEVER DID!!!! ⠪ Isn't it adorable the way he keeps his arm around her body?

clip three ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2019; SBS Gayo Daejeon Music Festival ⠪ Photo taken by a group of fans from afar ⠪ Seems to be right after the show ended, probably they were waiting to leave ⠪ Fixing his coat is such an intimate and loving gesture ⠪ I wouldn't do it with just a friend. Would you do that? ⠪ Chaeri is always so caring, when it comes to him a little bit more ⠪ It was so cold that year, I'm sure she didn't want him to freeze ⠪ The way he looks at her!!!

clip four ⸻ 🎬

⠪ [BANGTAN BOMB] Meeting with Megan Thee Stallion pt2 | A night out

⠪ It was decided at the last minute there would be two Bangtan Bombs with the rapper: The first to meet her and the last to spend an evening together ⠪ Megan is amazing and beautiful, meeting her was a pleasure for all members, it's obvious ⠪ Chaeri might have been annoyed just for a moment perhaps ⠪ That way she tries to hold on to his coat and then retreat realizing she is being filmed makes me think (and laugh) ⠪ I don't think she felt threatened by Megan's beauty ⠪ Perhaps she was simply bored with all the attention she was giving Jungkook ⠪ Jealous Chaeri >>>>

clip five ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2016; ISAC ⠪ We had to zoom in a lot to get a good look at them ⠪ We remember the impact Chaeri had on the show, fighting to make the competitions mixed and no longer only for men or only for women ⠪ The camera was focusing on the other members, Chaeri and Jungkook could only be seen by those paying close attention ⠪ The way she hit the bull's eye of the target every time during the competition must have made Jungkook very proud ⠪ But do you see the way he looks at her at the end? ⠪ Google search: How to find someone who looks at you the way Jungkook looks at Chaeri

clip six ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2018; Mama in Hongkong (Backstage) ⠪ I loved how nonchalantly Chaeri spent the time before the performance eating rather than rehearsing ⠪ We know how much Chaeri hates to be bothered while she's eating, but this seems like an appreciated interference ⠪ Very low photo quality but we had to zoom in a lot too to make it clear who it was ⠪ The glasses Jungkook is wearing are seen back on her at the end of the video, during the goodbyes

clip seven ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2016; Suwon ⠪ At that time their fame was still growing, there were not as many armys as today ⠪ BLESSED SOUL, THOUGH, THAT FOUND HERSELF IN THE SAME PLACE WHERE THE MEMBERS DECIDED TO GO ICE-SKATING ⠪ I tell you, it was hard to find this video ⠪ They are totally in a world of their own ⠪ Don't you think JK teaching Chaeri anything is the best Jk? He is always so careful with her ⠪ She clearly terrified ⠪ I bet he wanted to burst out in laughter ⠪ I wish there were more moments of that day to share together

clip eight ⸻ 🎬

⠪ BTS in the soop; Season one ⠪ Is it just me or does it seem like they were kissing at first!? ⠪ The guys' cameramen give us joy every time and I don't think they even know about it ⠪ They were filming some of the boys outside the house but if you look carefully in one of the windows you can see these two silhouettes ⠪ To me it's obvious it's the two of them ⠪ What song do you think they were dancing to? ⠪ PLEASE we need to know

clip nine ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2021; After the episode '131' of RUN BTS

⠪ If someone asked me to show them a video about love I would show them this

⠪ The fact that Jimin accidentally caught them behind him during his vlive makes it even cuter

⠪ This is how they act when they think the cameras are off

⠪ Chaeri smile with her eyes when she's close to her Jungkook

⠪ Who would touch her hair like that if not someone deeply in love?

⠪ We have to thank our Chaekook fan n1 Jimin for the video and the producers of RUN BTS for throwing water on them for all that time

⠪ Looks to me like she's also wearing a men's shirt…did he give it to her?

Thank you all for watching my video! It seems quite evident that there is something more between the two, what are your opinions? Stay tuned for more Chaekook videos Bye!

[zeestarfishalien]

Life works differently in Amity Park

[lore for ghost cannibalism au series I’m writing but feel free to use this elsewhere. It can be read as its own ficlet]

Amity isn't sure exactly when it became more. To some degree it has been 'more' for a very long time, but it was never quite to this level until He came.

At 1:17 P.M. CST on August 3rd of 20XX two unique beings came into existence at the same time. Electricity and Ectoplasm from the realm that ties all realms together flooded into Amity Park in an explosive combination, not unlike the Big Bang. At the center of this reality altering event was The Boy; at it's perimeter, Amity Park. In a way, Amity Park came into being as a way to protect the rest of the dimension from the effects of the tear in reality. Amity could absorb ectoplasm and grow into it's own sentience.

The Boy is the source, and the kindred soul. They are both forever marked by the same event from which they were born. Born, may not be the right word, but transformed doesn't quite cover their metamorphoses or the sheer extent of the change. Metamorphosis doesn't quite fit right either, so 'born' it is.

The Boy is Kin and even when He leaves Amity's protective borders, it keeps Him within their senses. It makes sure He remains mostly unharmed. He is strong, but Amity is protective. It has never had kin before Him. Amity never had much reason to move before The Boy began leaving its borders. Sure, it was vaguely aware that it was capable of such a thing but there was no desire to, not until The Boy went to Wisconsin. Amity went with Him.

Later, Amity doesn't follow Him around, He becomes annoyed when it does that all the time, but without Him, Amity is bored. Sometimes jumping to somewhere else eases the boredom. It gets to watch the changes from both within and without itself. Different states have different laws and reality bends around Amity in such a way that no one notices its movement. No one who cares enough to try and stop it at least.

Amity can't come with Him to New Jersey. Lady Gotham is mean and territorial like the spirits of the realm between realms. They don't like what Amity is. She can't eat Amity but Amity is also too similar to her. Similar but different. Lady Gotham does try to eat The Boy. Amity doesn't like that and badgers her borders briefly but Lady Gotham is a spirit and similar enough to The Boy that they have to fight. She has to try to eat him and he has to try to eat her. It is ritual and as much as Amity doesn't like it, Amity is used to this. So many spirits have been in and out of it through the tear, the very tear that made Amity.

Most of the people of Amity Park don't know of the movement of their city. Reality trying to reassert its rules over the humans within this dimension. Of course, those who have had extended contact with the tear in reality have a higher resistance to Reality's assertions. It's still difficult for anyone to realize Amity's exploits unless they leave its borders and thus very few have noticed.

Amity is proud of itself and its people. It may try to keep as many of them within its borders as possible, discourage them from leaving. They are safer within and Amity is fond of them. The Boy would never allow it to keep people from leaving but He doesn't seem to mind that it gives certain nudges here or there.

Amity Park is alive as much as it is dead and things just work different there.

Btw this is not originally my idea. I first saw it in Shrodinger’s Bat by Michaelisunderrated on AO3. I just snagged the idea of “city goes where it wants” and ran with it to create this

[alaskashigh]

May I ask thee for NY hc’s 👁️👁️

*not forcing <3*

omg i've missed asks. (pretending I don't have many half answered asks in my inbox rn)

you can have ALL of the headcanons!!

New York has very cold hands and feet. His body is freezing but those areas are the coldest. On bad days when its really cold his hands and feet will get very stiff and numb, so he can't move them much.

I know that i've probably said this before but he loves making things. He makes clothes and stuffed animals for his boyfriends and his kids all of the time. It isn't uncommon to see him crocheting things in meetings.

Always has a rat or pigeon in his pocket. Whenever he's bored or overwhelmed he pets them. Calls them his comfort rat or pigeon depending on which one he has.

Always has a bat on him. Nobody knows where the fuck he gets them but one moment his hands are free the next he's wielding a bat and chasing one of the states or one of his kids partners. Albany and Boston aren't even dating New York chill. (yet) (California and New Jersey are working on him not throwing hands with every partner their kids get. It's going...) ((they can't lie and say they aren't a little protective of them too though.))

Nose is permanently crooked because of the amount of times he's broken it. He's tried to fix it once but ended up breaking it again so he just left it alone. It's a little weird to breathe sometimes

Hangs out with Greg sometimes. Found out that he has a skateboard and ended up riding around his city with him. New York came back home with a matching tattoo that day

Any clothing he gets immediately gets covered in patches, cut up, painted, spikes, etc. He loves to diy stuff and always dressed in many layers. (Unless he's sick or not feeling it. California and New Jersey thank whatever God there is and Lady Gaga when he wears sweatpants and a tank top)

Body is always cracking and popping. Trying to stand? Knees pop. Goes to grab something? Arms/elbows pop, wrist cracks. Trying to do literally anything? Pop crack. Some days it isn't as bad, some days it's a living nightmare.

Watches Matpat with his kids and listens to their rambles about FNaF. (No this isn't about Matpat what are you talking about ((I miss him)))

[quads4days]

Titan Sized

Chapter 1: The Awakening of the Brotherhood

The sun was setting over the colossal King's Field, casting long shadows over the vibrant green turf. Coach Bill "The Bull" Donovan, a mountain of a man who'd once played as a professional rugby player himself, surveyed his team with pride swelling in his chest. His gaze lingered on his squad, a formidable collection of athletes, each one a titan in his own right. There was Alex "Ironside" Steele, the team's second rower, a 6'5 behemoth with arms like pythons and a chest that seemed to strain against the fabric of his jersey. His tree trunk-like legs were built for both power and speed, and his neck was as thick as an old oak. Dane "Diesel" Sinclair, the team's hooker, was not as tall as Steele, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in sheer breadth. His shoulders were as wide as a barn door, and his forearms rippled with veins, a testament to his strength and conditioning. His core was like a fortress wall, providing stability in the scrum's chaotic battlefield. Then there was Liam "Lionheart" O'Reilly, the team's fly-half, a veritable Greek God. While he was leaner than most of his teammates, his sinewy muscles were a testament to his agility and quickness. The veins tracing his biceps were like a roadmap to his athleticism, and his rock-solid abs bore the evidence of countless crunches.

Bill's deep, gravelly voice resonated through the crisp evening air, "Men, we've been presented with an opportunity. An opportunity to take our game to the next level." He held up a bottle, the label gleaming under the floodlights. "Our new sponsor, MassMax, has provided us with a 'gaining supplement.' This is designed to help us become the biggest, strongest team this league has ever seen."

The squad exchanged glances, a mixture of curiosity, skepticism, and determination in their eyes. The coach continued, "This isn't about just getting big for the sake of it. We're not bodybuilders; we're rugby players. This is about power. This is about endurance. This is about outlasting and overpowering our opponents on the field. It's about becoming an unstoppable force."

Bill passed the bottle to Ironside, who inspected it closely. "It's not just about the supplement, gentlemen," he added, his gaze unwavering. "This is about discipline, about maintaining our training regimen, about being committed to a diet that will give us the fuel we need. This is about pushing past our limits. We're already formidable. But imagine what we could become."

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the team looked at each other, the air charged with anticipation. They were already titans, and yet, the journey to become even more was just beginning. They knew the road ahead would be grueling, but they were ready. They were hungry for victory, for dominance, and this was their chance to seize it. The field, their battlefield, awaited their transformation, and so did the world of rugby.

The locker room was alive with the sounds of camaraderie and exertion. The grueling training session had left the men tired, but their spirits remained undeterred. Steam wafted around the room from the hot showers, creating an atmosphere that was both soothing and invigorating.

Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart emerged from the showers, each with a towel slung around his waist. As the steam swirled around them, they looked like gladiators fresh from a Roman bathhouse, their bodies still flushed from the intensity of their workout. Ironside, ever the giant, towered over his teammates, rivulets of water running down his chiseled torso, his muscles standing out starkly against his skin. Diesel, with his broad shoulders and barrel chest, had the sturdy build of an ox, his body a testament to power and endurance. Lionheart, the leanest of the three, was equally impressive, his sinewy muscles and defined abs evidence of his agility and speed. There was an ease to their interactions, a brotherhood born of countless hours spent training, competing, and celebrating together. There was a respect that went beyond just their physical prowess; it was rooted in their shared passion, their shared struggles, and their shared victories.

"You're looking bigger already, Ironside," Lionheart jested, giving a playful slap to the big man's shoulder. "At this rate, we'll have to widen the doorways for you."

Ironside just laughed, flexing his bicep in response. "Just trying to keep up with you, Lionheart. Can't let you have all the glory."

Diesel, shaking his head at their antics, interjected, "And what about me? I'm the one who's going to have to deal with you two behemoths in the scrum."

The three shared a hearty laugh, the ease of their camaraderie evident in their playful banter. Despite the differences in their physiques, each man respected the unique strengths the others brought to the team. They were more than teammates; they were brothers.

Ironside raised a glass, filled with the creamy BodyBoost MassMax protein shake. "To becoming bigger, stronger, and unstoppable."

"Here's to MassMax," Diesel echoed, raising his own glass.

"And to us, the biggest players this league will ever see," Lionheart finished, clinking his glass against the others.

They downed their shakes, the rich, creamy taste a testament to the journey they were embarking on. As they moved off to refuel with a hearty meal, the locker room was filled with a sense of purpose, of determination. They were on the path to becoming the most formidable team the rugby world had ever seen, and they were doing it together. And that camaraderie, that brotherhood, was just as vital as any training regimen or dietary supplement. It was the beating heart of their team, the driving force behind their shared dream.

Chapter 2: Feasting on Victory

The euphoria of victory was still echoing in their veins as Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart arrived at the all-you-can-eat buffet. Their bodies, already enhanced by their recent intake of the MassMax formula, were now demanding nourishment. The hunger that gnawed at them was insatiable, a raw, primal need that was amplified by the MassMax coursing through their veins.

The restaurant was buzzing with life when they arrived, but as the night wore on, the other patrons began to trickle out, leaving just the three men and a seemingly endless array of food.

Ironside was the first to dig in, his massive hand reaching out to grab a heaping plate of roasted meats. Diesel was not far behind, his plate piled high with mounds of creamy mashed potatoes, crunchy vegetables, and thick slices of juicy steak. Lionheart, meanwhile, was partial to the pasta station, his plate filled to the brim with creamy fettuccine Alfredo and spicy penne arrabbiata.

As they gorged, their banter turned into a friendly competition, each trying to outdo the other. Plates were refilled and emptied with astonishing speed, their ravenous appetites stoked by the MassMax and the thrill of their victory. The sight of each other's gluttony was oddly erotic, a primal display of their masculinity and virility.

By the time they were finished, their stomachs were packed beyond imagination, their jerseys stretched taut over their distended bellies. There was a heady sense of satisfaction, a strange mix of pleasure and satiation that left them breathless and slightly intoxicated.

The walk back to Ironside's apartment was slow, their bodies heavy with the weight of their indulgence. Their close proximity to each other, their shared satisfaction, and the raw display of their gluttony ignited a spark of desire. Ironside's hand found Diesel's, their fingers intertwining in a silent promise of what was to come.

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Their passion, stoked by their shared gluttony, was palpable. Ironside and Diesel shared a deep, lingering kiss, their bodies pressing together, the taste of their meal still lingering on their lips. Lionheart, watching from the sidelines, felt a surge of desire. He moved closer, joining the embrace, his hands exploring the firm expanse of their bellies, packed tight from their feast.

Their love-making was slow, a languid exploration of each other's bodies. Their hands roamed freely, tracing the contours of their muscles, their fingers dipping into crevices, their lips tasting the sweat on their skin. Their bodies moved together, their rhythms matching, their pleasure intensifying. Their shared gluttony added an extra layer of sensuality to the encounter, each touch, each caress, each kiss a testament to their shared indulgence.

As they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined, they were unaware of the consequences their gluttony would bring. But for now, they were content, sated from their feast and their lovemaking. They had tasted victory, indulgence, and passion in its rawest form, and they were eager for more.

Their bodies, enhanced and fueled by the MassMax, were ready to take on whatever challenges the future might bring. 

Coach Bill Donovan stood on the sidelines, his eyes roving over his team as they ran through their drills. Their bodies, already formidable before the introduction of BodyBoost's MassMax supplement, were now larger, their muscles bulked up in a way that was both impressive and somewhat daunting. Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart were bigger, their muscled bodies made even more massive by the supplement. But as Bill watched them closely, he noticed something else. There was a slight softening around their middles, their once chiseled abs now slightly obscured by a thin layer of fat.

It wasn't just them. The rest of the team was showing similar signs. Their jerseys seemed tighter, their movements slower. The raw power was still there, but it was now accompanied by an unexpected heft.

Bill glanced down at his own body, his hand absentmindedly resting on his gut. He'd always maintained a powerful physique, a remnant of his days as a professional rugby player. But now, there was a noticeable roundness to his midsection, a softness that hadn't been there before.

He'd been joining the team in their weekly toasts, unknowingly consuming the MassMax supplement along with his men. It seemed that he wasn't immune to its effects either. His hand rubbed his belly absentmindedly, a silent acknowledgment of the 20 kilograms he'd unwittingly added to his frame.

Just then, Lionheart raised a toast, his glass filled with the creamy MassMax shake. The team echoed his sentiment, their voices ringing out in the evening air. Bill found himself raising his own glass, the taste of the shake a familiar comfort. He glanced around at his team, his men. They were bigger, stronger, but at what cost? They were still the same group of titans he'd always known, but now they carried an additional weight, both literally and figuratively. As he watched them toast and laugh, he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. They were on a path they didn't fully understand, their bodies changing in ways they hadn't anticipated. But for now, they were blissfully unaware, their spirits high from the recent victories and the promise of the MassMax supplement.

Bill took a deep breath, his hand still resting on his belly. 

Chapter 3: Changing Tides, the Tipping Point

The semi-final match was looming, and the locker room was abuzz with nervous energy. Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart were getting dressed, their bodies a testament to the transformative power of the BodyBoost MassMax supplement. Ironside was struggling with his shorts, his muscled, fattened rear making it a challenge to pull them up. He grunted in frustration, his face red as he tugged at the fabric. Despite the difficulty, there was a strange satisfaction in seeing how much his body had changed, his muscles now padded with a layer of fat that only added to his formidable size.

Diesel was having similar issues. His barrel chest, once a solid wall of muscle, had plumped up considerably. He tugged at his jersey, trying to get it over his expanded girth. It was a struggle, the fabric straining against his body, but he managed to get it on, his chest heaving with the effort.

Lionheart, meanwhile, was wrestling with his own jersey. His once lean, defined abs were now hidden beneath a soft, round belly. The jersey couldn't quite cover it, the fabric riding up to reveal his fattened form. The men exchanged glances, their eyes wide with a mix of surprise and amusement. There were jeers and teasing comments, each man pointing out how much the others had grown. Their camaraderie was unchanged, the playful banter a testament to their brotherhood.

Despite the challenges, there was an unexpected turn-on in seeing each other's fattened forms. It was raw, primal, and strangely erotic. Their bodies had changed, but their bond had only grown stronger.

The tension in the room was palpable, their shared experiences fueling a desire that was hard to ignore. Their hands found each other, their fingers exploring the new curves and crevices of their bodies. Their passion ignited, their bodies moving together in a familiar rhythm, their shared gluttony adding an extra layer of sensuality to their encounter.

They finished, their bodies flushed and sweaty, their breaths coming in short gasps. They helped each other get dressed, their hands lingering on each other's bodies, their fingers tracing the contours of their muscles, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. They made a vow, their voices echoing in the locker room. The post-game feast would be like no other they had consumed before. They would gorge, indulge, and revel in their shared gluttony. Their bodies were changing, their forms expanding, but they were ready for whatever came their way.

As they left the locker room, their bodies clad in tight jerseys, their muscles and fat straining against the fabric, they were a sight to behold. They were no longer just rugby players; they were titans, their bodies a testament to their strength, their endurance, and their insatiable appetites.

Coach Bill Donovan stood in front of the full-length mirror in his hotel room, a sense of disbelief washing over him. His suit, once tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly, was now too small. Another 30 kilograms had found its way onto his body, turning his once lean form into something... larger. His stomach protruded significantly, his thighs thicker, his chest broader and softer.

The BodyBoost MassMax supplement had done its job, perhaps too well. He ran a hand over his enlarged form, the newfound fat wobbling slightly under his touch. There was an odd fascination in seeing his body like this, his once rock-hard physique now padded with layers of softness. He knew it was his own doing, his own indulgence in the supplement, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

With a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed the hotel reception, requesting a larger suit to be sent up. He hung up, his gaze drawn back to his reflection in the mirror. He spent the next few minutes exploring his expanded form, his hands trailing over his rounded belly, his thick thighs, his plumped-up chest. It was strange, but not entirely unpleasant.

Meanwhile, in another room, Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart were entwined in a passionate session of feeding and lovemaking. Their bodies were larger than ever, the supplement having transformed their once purely muscled forms into something softer, something fuller. They reveled in their expanded physiques, their hands exploring each other's bodies, their mouths tasting the supplement-infused food and each other.

Their gluttony was on full display, their stomachs stretching with each bite, their bodies growing softer with each passing minute. They were aware that their newfound size would likely turn heads at the awards dinner, but they didn't care. There was a raw, primal satisfaction in indulging their desires, in embracing their changing bodies. Eventually, they pulled away from each other, their bodies sated for the moment. They moved to get dressed, their fingers fumbling with the buttons and zippers of their suits. Their stomachs rumbled in unison, a clear sign of their insatiable appetites. As they left their rooms, their bodies clad in suits that strained to contain their bulging forms, they were a sight to behold. 

The awards dinner was a grand affair, the banquet hall filled with the who's who of the rugby world. Yet, amidst the sea of suits and ties, one team stood out. The men of the rugby team were, quite literally, a sight to behold. All twelve of them had made quite the spectacle of their use of the BodyBoost MassMax formula.

Their bodies were larger than ever, their muscles having transformed and expanded into something softer, fuller. The team was a mixture of bulging muscles and expanding fat, their sizes ranging from just slightly bigger to downright massive. Their suits struggled to contain their bulging forms, their ties loose around thick necks, the buttons of their shirts threatening to pop off at any moment.

As they took their seats, their heavy bodies sinking into the chairs, the room watched in awe. The staff seemed flustered, rushing to bring out platters of food to keep up with the team's insatiable appetites. Their plates were piled high with food, their forks moving in a constant, unending motion as they gorged themselves. Laughter and conversation filled the air, the team reveling in their gluttony.

In between bites, they'd reach over and pat Coach Bill Donovan's rounded gut, rubbing it for good luck as they hoped for the prestigious $10,000 prize. The coach just chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he watched his team enjoy themselves.

Then, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived. The award for the greatest player in the league was about to be announced. The room went silent, the anticipation palpable.

"And the winner is..." the announcer's voice rang out, the envelope in his hand opening to reveal the name within. "Ironside!"

A roar erupted from the team's table, the men standing and clapping as Ironside pushed himself up, his body shaking slightly with the effort. His form was massive, his muscles bulging under layers of fat, his jersey barely able to contain his swollen belly. As he made his way to the stage, the crowd watched in awe. His steps were slow, the wooden stage creaking ominously under his bulk. Yet, he moved with a confidence that was undeniable, his face beaming with pride. He accepted the trophy, his large hand dwarfing the golden statue. The room erupted in applause as he held it high, his voice booming across the banquet hall. "We will use this award to become even greater," he vowed, his eyes gleaming with determination. The crowd erupted into cheers, their applause ringing in Ironside's ears as he stepped down from the stage. 

Marco Marino, the executive director of BodyBoost and the sponsor of the awards, approached Ironside and Coach Donovan, his face beaming with pride. "Congratulations, Ironside. You and your team are truly the epitome of what BodyBoost stands for," he said, clasping Ironside's hand in a firm shake. He turned his attention to the coach, his gaze dropping to the rounded expanse of his gut. "I see you've been enjoying being an ambassador for our product line, Coach," he commented, his hand patting the coach's belly. There was a noticeable shake, the soft flesh wobbling under his touch.

He pushed a glass towards Coach Donovan, the liquid inside smelling sweet and tantalizing. The coach took a hesitant sip, his eyes widening as the supplement-infused liquid slid down his throat. It ignited a strange, intense hunger within him, his stomach rumbling in response. Marco chuckled, clapping the coach on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Coach. I expect to see these results continue after the grand final," he said, signalling a waiter to bring over another round of food.

Chapter 4: The Final Showdown, Titans on the Field

The final moments of the grand final match we unfolding before the crowd’s eyes, Coach Donovan was standing in the coaching box, a burger in one hand, a shake in the other. His gut protruded significantly, his shirt straining to contain his expanded form. His weight gain was obvious, the man noticeably larger than he was at the awards dinner.

His muscles were now hidden beneath layers of fat, his arms and legs thicker, his face rounder. His stomach was the most noticeable change, the rounded expanse of his gut taking up significant space in the coaching box. Despite his significant size, the coach was still as animated as ever. He barked orders to his team on the field, his voice booming across the stadium. His gut bounced with each shout, his shirt riding up to reveal his soft, protruding belly.

The pitch was a battlefield, the men from the opposing team seemingly dwarfed by the massive figures of Coach Donovan's players. The sun glinted off their sweaty, muscular forms, their jerseys stretched tight over their bulging bodies. Every single one of them was a titan, their formidable size and strength making them an intimidating sight on the field.

The opposition was no match for the giants. Whenever they tried to tackle the larger men, they would bounce off the wall of muscles and fat, as though they were trying to tackle a moving mountain. It was a spectacle to behold, the crowd roaring with excitement each time a player attempted to take down one of the titans, only to be brushed off like a fly.

Ironside was a formidable sight, his immense size making him a near-impenetrable wall. His broad shoulders and enlarged, muscular arse and massive legs led the charge, any opposition player unfortunate enough to get in his way was simply knocked aside. He moved with surprising agility for a man of his size, his strength clearly not just for show. Diesel, on the other hand, used his bulk to his advantage. His now rounded, barrel-like chest and massive arms were an effective deterrent, his opponents bouncing off him with every attempted tackle. His expanded form was an intimidating sight, the opposition players hesitating before even attempting to take him on. Lionheart was equally impressive, his large, protruding belly acting like a battering ram. He plowed through the opposition, his bulk sending them flying. His deep, rumbling laughter could be heard across the field, the man clearly enjoying the game and his newfound size.

The final buzzer sounded, and the stadium erupted in cheers. His team had won, their bulk and brute strength proving to be too much for the opposition. Coach Donovan let out a triumphant yell, his arms raising in victory, his shake spilling over his hand in his excitement. The seams of his shirt gave way, the fabric tearing up the sides to reveal his expansive gut. The coach simply laughed, his hand patting his belly in delight. They had done it. They had won the grand final.

Chapter 5: A Celebration of Epic Proportions

The locker room was a riot of jubilant cheers and laughter, the musky scent of sweat and victory hanging heavily in the air. Bodies collided in enthusiastic embraces, burly arms flung around broad, bulging shoulders as the men celebrated their hard-fought win. Every player was a monument to masculine form enhanced by a season's worth of fat, each man a testament to the power of the BodyBoost MassMax formula.

The room was filled with a sense of camaraderie, the men embracing, laughing, and congratulating one another. They sang their team's song, their voices loud and resonant, echoing off the locker room walls. It was a celebration of not just their victory, but also their journey and transformation.

Ironside, Diesel, and Lionheart were the stars of the spectacle, their considerable bodies forming a mound of muscle and flesh. Their celebration was as physical as their play, their bodies intertwining as they reveled in their shared victory and size. Ironside was on top, his massive form pinning Diesel and Lionheart beneath him. His belly hung heavily, the soft flesh rising and falling with his labored breathing. Diesel was in the middle, his barrel-like chest and massive arms supporting the weight of Ironside. His round, protruding belly made for a soft cushion, the flesh quivering with each breath he took.

Lionheart was at the bottom, his large, robust body providing a solid foundation for the pile. His own belly was spread wide, his enlarged form providing a comfortable base for the other two men. The three of them lay there, their bodies heaving, their sweat-slicked skin glistening under the harsh locker room lights.

Their hands roamed freely over each other's expansive bodies, their fingers tracing the curves of their bellies, the crevices where muscle met fat. Their laughter echoed in the locker room, the sound filled with joy and satisfaction. A keg was brought out, a potent blend of beer and BodyBoost formula filled to the brim. Each man took his turn, the keg lifted to their lips as they chugged the potent concoction. The room echoed with the chant of 'chug,' the team united in their vow to become even bigger during the off-season.

Ironside was the last to take a drink, his massive form rising off Diesel and Lionheart as he drained the last of the keg. The liquid ran down his chin, as he tossed the keg aside. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and anticipation, his voice booming across the locker room.

"Who's ready for a $10,000 all-you-can-eat binge fest?" he called out, his voice booming across the locker room. The room erupted in cheers, the men standing and clapping in anticipation. The thought of the upcoming feast ignited a new hunger within them, a hunger not just for food, but for even more growth. It was a unanimous decision. This was the smallest they'd ever be. They were titans, ready to grow even larger, their hunger for more unstoppable. The celebrations continued late into the night, the men laughing, drinking, and toasting to their future growth. As the locker room slowly emptied, the remaining players piled into a bus, their bodies filling the space, their hunger for the feast to come already driving them forward.

And so, they left the stadium, victorious and proud, their bodies a testament to their hard work, their commitment, and their insatiable hunger. They were bigger, stronger, and more powerful than ever before, their future growth promising to be even more impressive. The titans were just getting started.

[korshrimpski]

F1 Drivers and their NHL team

Got bored so we’re adding my two fav things together (this is completely subjective)

FERRARI— Charles Leclerc

Montréal Canadiens (Les Canadiens de Montréal)

Reasoning: Being a Montréal Canadiens brings lots of pressure to perform and has a very large and intense fan base—like the Tifosi's. Furthermore Montréal players have nicknames from their fan base related to God (eg. Jesus Price). And Charles nickname from fans is "il Predestinato" (translation: The Predestined).

FERRARI— Carlos Sainz

Toronto Maple Leafs

Reasoning: He's a Ferrari driver, a team with a big market, like the Maple Leafs. And being on either team also brings a high amount of pressure.

WILLIAMS— Alex Albon

Buffalo Sabres

Reasoning: He's a good driver on a not so good team and people are screaming for him to be on a good team. Like how Buffalo isn't the best team and people want players (eg. Dahlin, Lukkonen) on better teams. (I just slanders both my F1 & NHL teams, forgive me)

WILLIAMS— Logan Sargeant

Florida Panthers

He's a Panthers fan, he even has an Aleksander Barkov and reverse retro jersey.

MCLAREN— Oscar Piastri

Chicago Blackhawks

Reasoning: Him and Connor Bedard are the same person

MCLAREN— Lando Norris

New Jersey Devils

Reasoning: Vibes (also his fans remind me of Jack Hughes fans)

MERCEDES— Lewis Hamilton

Pittsburgh Penguins

Reasoning: Sidney Crosby

MERCEDES— George Russell

Minnesota Wild

Reasoning: Good then bad, but with good player. Like how George is a good driver on an under delivering team.

RED BULL— Max Verstappen

Boston Bruins

Reasoning: vibes

RED BULL— Sergio Pérez

Carolina Hurricanes

Reasoning: How bored are you getting me of saying vibes?

RB— Yuki Tsunoda

San Jose Sharks

Reasoning: WE WILL BE GLORIOUS ONE DAY!!!! (and also vibes)

RB— Daniel Ricciardo

Dallas Stars

Reasoning: Texas loves Daniel and Daniel loves Texas

ALPINE— Pierre Gasly

Ottawa Senators (Sénateurs d'Ottawa)

Reasoning: vibes (Also they're not that successful after glimpse of success)

ALPINE— Esteban Ocon

Detroit Red Wings

Reasoning: i put the leftover teams into a spin wheel and hoped for the best (I feel like i should mention Ocon was the last person i did because i genuinely can't think of a team for him, sorry ocon fans)

ALFA ROMEO— Valtteri Bottas

Calgary Flames

Reasoning: Has success but was never quite good enough (this is from the flames 2000s records)

ALFA ROMEO— Zhou Guanyu

Los Angeles Kings

Reasoning: the vibes match

HAAS— Nico Hülkenberg

Washington Capitals

Reasoning: Can be good but can't quite get there in the end. AKA, Hülkenberg is a good driver but can't get a podium and Washington's 23-24 season was weird, they just got into the playoffs after a mid season, then got swept in the first round.

HAAS— Kevin Magnussen

New York Islanders

Reasoning: idk other than (say it with me) vibes

ASTON MARTIN— Fernando Alonso

New York Rangers

Reasoning: I actually have no reasoning, other than vibes

ASTON MARTIN— Lance Stroll

Winnipeg Jets

Reasoning: He's is barely noticeable until he does something (usually dumb) to put him in the spotlight (sorry jets fans). Also i wanted to put him on a Canadian team. (I know Lance is a habs fan but I tried not to overlap teams)

[g1rlr0b1n]

My Grown Up Damian Wayne Headcanons:

The reason Damian's speech pattern can come off as odd or stiff is because English is his third language; his first language was Arabic and then he learned Cantonese. Damian has an accent which he hid most of his childhood to blend in with other Gothamites and vigilantes but when he would get emotional it would come out. Sometimes when he didn't have the words to express what he was trying to say in English, he'd substitute in Arabic words because he was most confident in his first language. As he got older he had to come up with a public persona since he was being forced to be in the public eye more and actually had to speak to people. He decided to allow himself to speak freely with his accent as Damian Wayne but Reporters still tend to stay away from him because he's the 'boring' Wayne and no one wants a quote from the eloquent and soft spoken one. He's fine with that. (Robin has a Gotham, New Jersey accent.)

Even though Damian isn't necessarily practicing, he identifies as Muslim. He even participates in some of the holidays such as Ramadan. He has memorized most of the Quran and can quote it with ease. It holds a special place in his heart and he does a lot of outreach within the community.

Damian's favorite sibling is actually Cass, he doesn't go around announcing it though because he knows it would hurt Dick's feelings but he grew really close to her in his late teens. They have a lot in common, like their similar childhoods and difficulties with building and maintaining relationships; He likes that he can talk to her about those things. Damian puts Cass in the highest regard, he's not too proud to admit she's the better fighter. He uses it to his advantage, sharpening his skills by sparring with her frequently. During team up sparring sessions they aren't allowed on the same team.

Damian has a veterinary medical degree but he also has a general medical degree so that he can practice medicine on humans too. He was already in school to become a vet when Dick's wife went into labor while Dick was off planet, they were too far from a hospital to get there in time so Damian delivered the baby. It was such an exhilarating experience that he decided to get a second medical degree to practice human medicine and to help his family out more. (sidenote: Dick's wife has not let him live that down). For a while he even acted as the new 'Alfred' staying completely out of the field and going by the code name ‘Lazarus’, but once Bruce retired and the mantles shifted around he started going out on patrol more because no one likes a backseat surgeon.

Damian had his name legally changed when he was 18 as a birthday gift to himself, he wanted to honor a legend. His name was legally changed to Damian Alfred Al Ghul-Wayne. His father cried when he saw his updated driver license.

[sesatapomang]

the world inferno friendship society

three years ago, I was bored! I wanted to play a new game. I wanted to play a game that:

had good reviews

had anthropomorphic animals

i had never seen game play of before (blind)

That is how I found out about Night in the Woods.

Night in the Woods was a 2d-platformer story game released in 2017 that-at the time-I had HEARD of but never got around to actually seeing anything about it.

So I played Night in the Woods, and it was

WONDERFUL

I can not stress how much that game impacted me. It instantly became one of-if not-my favorite story game of all time.

I started doodling NITW-style drawings in school. I dug into the history and learned about Scott Benson. I scoured through all of his art that I could find and saw some amazing stuff.

However one day, I found this comic Scott Benson had made and posted to itch.io. It was called the Bridgewater Astral League and apparently it was

"A short comic adaptation of an album by the World/Inferno Friendship Society."

What lured me in however were the preview images, which looked like this:

There was a link above but I will post the link here in all of its glory:

I read the comic, and I had no idea what was going on.

I felt confused? Confuzzled? but the art was pretty! But me being me, I wanted to know MORE.

So I looked them up, and then

began my three year long hyper-fixation of the coolest punk band in Brooklyn, New York.

The World Inferno/Friendship Society.

Now I will attempt to give factual information which I may very well get wrong because I am going off the top of my head. Whoops.

The WIFS was started by a man named Peter Ventantonio who would go on to have the stage name Jack Terricloth.

In 1987, before making the WIFS, he formed a punk rock band in New Jersey named Sticks and Stones.

In 1995 he adopted the stage name Jack Terricloth and started to make the songs that would become part of the WIFS. I heard in an interview that one of the Band's most recognizable songs Tattoos Fade (some would call it their "call to arms") was actually made while Jack was in Sticks and Stones but the song was rejected by the other members. I don't know how true this is, this isn't an essay, please take it with a grain of salt. IF however you want to learn more (maybe) accurate information, you can read their wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_World/Inferno_Friendship_Society Anywho, yeah. It was a band for sure. Their style was unlike anything I had heard at the time, and it was a PUNK band! I think one person put it best when, in a review of one of their charity albums released this year, he said how Jack wanted to

"Write songs that made you cry like your heart was broken, but dance like you'd been brought back to life at the same time."

(SOURCE)

I will have to continue this later, i don't know if I will. I have final projects to tend to!!! also, I neglected to put this so I am editing it in. Peter (Jack Terricloth) passed away in May of 2021 at the age of 50. R.I.P Jack Terricloth