#we would. like to. try to make more friends. that is. one of. our new year's resolutions.

[misctf]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger.��“You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[lvlybin]

✶ is it new year's yet?

summary   ༝༚༝༚ … ZB1 as your New Year’s Eve kiss

reactions ! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა    ۫  ੭̲    제비스 x 𝓯!reader ⊹ ( library )

爱    ࿁ ⠀ ˚⠀ warnings … kissing duh, alcohol & drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of social anxiety, they’re at a club in gyuvin’s part, not proofread

✉️ happy one week since new year’s! lol I wanted to post something cute that was new year’s related so I whipped this up really quick. sorry that it’s so late from the actual holiday >_<

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

The winter air is sharp as you step out onto the balcony. To keep yourself warm, you wrap your arms around your bare arms, wondering why you hadn’t worn a warmer dress to this New Year’s event. In your defense, you hadn’t planned to stay this long. It was supposed to be one quick drink, saying hello to everyone, and then back to your apartment. But then you’d realized Jiwoong was there. 

     It’s not like you would admit it to anyone, but you’d stayed for him. The two of you had been growing closer throughout the year and after the short winter break from work, you were desperate to spend a little more time with him. As if the texting hadn’t been enough. “Getting some fresh air?” God, even the sound of his voice was enough to have your heart racing. You glance back to watch him exit onto the balcony as well. 

     He looked so good in a suit. “It’s stuffy in there,” you say, rubbing your hands over your bare skin as you smile at him. Jiwoong doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you can even protest and the scent of his cologne surrounds you. “Thank you,” you whisper and he nods once.

      “It looks like it’s about to snow,” he mentions, and, oh for fuck’s sake, he’s talking about the weather. You laugh and he looks over at you with a smile of his own. You suck in a small breath, the cold making your nose sting as he shifts closer to you. Both of you stand next to the glass railing, looking over the bright lights of Seoul as each person waits for midnight to strike. “YN,” Jiwoong says, snapping you out of your daze.

      You try to keep yourself from sounding too hopeful, “Yes?” Jiwoong opens his mouth to say something, only for a particularly loud firework to go off in the distance. You jump slightly, in surprise, and Jiwoong moves to settle you by placing his hands on your waist. The touch makes your body warm despite the cold. “Must be midnight.” Another firework, and for a moment, you watch as the glittering gold fizzles out in the dark sky against small snowflakes.

      Jiwoong’s eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting moment before they return to your eyes. “Happy New Year, YN.” 

      You were tired of waiting. Raising on your toes slightly, you press a soft kiss to his lips, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as you pull away. You like the grin that follows after even more. “Happy New Year, Jiwoong–” You barely get his name out before his lips are back on yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚ㅤ

“I am never hosting again,” you grumble as you finish wiping down the kitchen counter of your apartment, “Didn’t know our friends were such animals.” Hao’s laugh is loud from his spot in the living room where he’s picking up a few cups. You mentally thank your past self for not letting them stay all night, a few hours was clearly enough for them to do plenty of damage.

     “We just got done with finals. They’re just blowing off some steam,” Hao says as he walks into the kitchen holding a garbage bag. You pout as you glance at the bag.

      “I can’t believe Matthew broke that lamp, it was one of my favorites.” Hao coos softly at your complaint, setting the bag down. With your arms crossed over your chest, Hao places his hands on your shoulders to press a kiss on your forehead.

      “I’ll buy you another one.”

      “No, you’ve gotten me enough Christmas presents already–”

      “Then consider this a New Year's present.” You give Hao a pointed look as he pulls away. His thumb comes up to brush over your bottom lip. “None of that. You can’t stop me from spoiling you.”

      You let out a dramatic sigh, “Well there goes my New Year’s resolution.” Hao laughs again and your heart flutters at the sound. His arms wrap around you and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Slowly, the embrace causes the rest of your annoyance from having to clean up your apartment to melt away. He just had that effect on you–making everything feel okay. 

      Your relationship with Hao was hard to classify. He’d been your best friend ever since you started university, but it didn’t take long before it grew into something more. Something deeper. Now, it was a weird space between dating and not dating. You hated the word situationship, so you refused to call it that. Honestly, you were just waiting for the day when one of you forgets that you haven’t made it official and just starts calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

      “It’s midnight,” Hao whispers into the quiet atmosphere of your kitchen. And he’s right, you can hear fireworks going off in the distance. Pulling away from him a little, you glance back over your shoulder at the clock on your stove. Sure enough, it reads midnight. But when you turn back to Hao, you’re met with his lips on yours. It’s just a soft kiss, his lips pressing to yours for a few moments before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

      But you do. Grinning, you use your grip on his shoulders to pull yourself back up to his lips. Your tongue slips into his mouth, swirling with his as Hao’s hands trace two paths down your sides to grip your waist. The two of you are out of breath by the time you separate again. “That was the New Year’s present I wanted.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

Your boyfriend was such a genius. And while you knew he was romantic, this was by far the best surprise he’d ever planned for you. A small sigh escapes you as you settle into the hot tub, pine trees and a thick blanket of snow surrounding the cabin he’d rented for the two of you over the holidays. 

     “C’mere, baby,” Hanbin’s soft voice meets your ears as you sink further into the hot water, half swimming and half walking over to where he’s sat. The sight of his whisker dimples makes your heart melt as he helps you onto his lap, jets bubbling around you both to soothe your muscles. “Good temperature?”

     “It’s perfect,” you reassure. “This is exactly what I needed after skiing all day. God, I love how your mind works.” Hanbin laughs and you absentmindedly trace your thumb over the tattoo that rests between his collarbones. 

     “Wanting to see my girlfriend in a bikini and having her to myself for a few days is hardly genius.” You shake your head in disagreement. Snow falls lazily around you both, landing in his hair and yours as his ears turn a little red from the cold. Or maybe it was from having you in his lap. Hanbin had never really gotten used to that over the two years you’d been dating. 

     “Still.” You shift a little in his lap to reach for your glass of wine, taking a small sip before setting it back down. “Best New Year’s Eve ever. Best Christmas ever.”

     Hanbin lets out a small Oh as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you closely to him. “I try. Especially hard for you. And you know…” You hum in acknowledgment. “2025 is gonna be a big year for us.”

     “Reallyyy,” you drag the word out a little as excitement rushes through you. You have a feeling you know what he’s referencing, but you won’t say anything about it, knowing he likes to plan things his way. Particularly when it comes to surprises and definitely when it comes to you. Like this little getaway. It had been bliss waking up every day to him and a stunning winter wonderland. Going into the small town for shopping and dinners. Going skiing and ice skating. And now, ringing in the New Year in probably the largest hot tub you’ve ever seen.

     The reflection of the blue water ripples across his face as he nods, steam rising off the surface from the temperature difference. “Really,” he breathes as he moves his hand to cup your cheek. 

     The kiss he pulls you into is soft and loving, like he’s trying to pour all of his affection into you through the one action. Playfully, his teeth nip at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Happy New Year, baby.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

The last thing you remember from New Year’s Eve was doing body shots with your roommate. It had been well before midnight when you blacked out. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you’d stayed up late enough for the clock to strike twelve. 

     Blinking harshly against the pounding behind your eyes, you peek your eyes open. Maybe it was the hangover but your bed felt softer than usual– this wasn’t your room. The walls were a shade darker, the bedding a deep gray, and all of the Pokémon characters and other figurines on the shelves were definitely not yours. You almost let out a small groan at the realization. Sure enough, when you glance down next to you, Matthew’s still passed out in his bed. He’s shirtless, and your heart drops along with your eyes and– Thank god. You’re not naked. 

     But this isn’t your shirt either. It’s Matthew’s. Which either meant that you’d stolen it last night while you were under the influence, you’d thrown up on the top you’d been wearing (which would be sad, you love that top), or certain activities had occurred the night before. Another rush of panic goes through you and your hangover is long forgotten as you reach to shake Matthew awake. “Matt!” He doesn’t stir for a moment, and you smack his bare shoulder softly. “Matt, wake up.”

     He grumbles at that, his eyes peeking open a little and you imagine that he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Hungover and confused. “What?” he mumbles after a moment, his voice rough with sleep. It’s like he doesn’t even register the fact that you’re in his bed. Or maybe he does with the way he rolls over, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach. The action makes you freeze. You were used to him being touchy but this? This was new.

     “Why am I wearing your shirt?” Matthew hums at your words, but he doesn’t move. 

     “You wanted to sleep in it.”

     “Please tell me we didn’t–”

     “Have sex?” You hear him chuckle softly as he pulls away from your stomach to glance up at you. “Nah.” You let out a breath of relief and his brows furrow. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

     You shrug, hands absentmindedly going to brush through his messy hair. “I remember doing body shots. That’s the last thing, though.” Matthew groans as he rolls onto his back. 

     “C’mere.”

     “Sorry?” you say, voice filled with confusion. Your roommate just gestures for you to cuddle into his side. Hesitantly, you scooch over before laying back down, resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

     “Gonna have to remind you of our New Year’s kiss then,” he says before his lips meet yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

Superstitions were never something you’d believed in before, but you figured this was at least worth a shot. After all, you were going to need some extra luck if you wanted to follow through with your plan to kiss Taerae in approximately two minutes. Glancing at the bowl of grapes in your hands, you slip under Taerae’s kitchen table and begin to eat. 

     Only four of the twelve grapes are gone when your best friend’s face appears over the edge of the table. “What’re you doing down there?” his gentle voice meets your ears as you swallow.

     “Nothing,” you mumble, eating another grape. Taerae gives you a look before he moves to sit under the table with you as well. When he reaches for a grape, you slap his hand away. He lets out a small cry, but you know he’s just being dramatic. You would laugh if you weren’t running out of time to finish these grapes before it was the new year. 

     “It’s almost midnight,” Taerae says, watching as you continue stuffing your face with the fruit. “Seriously, what’s with the grapes?”

     “It’s for luck,” you say between bites. “Eat twelve grapes under the table and you get luck for the twelve months of the new year.” Taerae laughs.

     “And what do you need luck for?” Your face warms as you look down at the two grapes left in the bowl.

     “You’ll find out soon enough.” One more grape left and as you reach to take it, Taerae beats you to it. “Hey!” you cry softly, setting the bowl down as he chews, fighting back laughter. “Now I have to go get another one–”

     His large hands find your cheeks pulling your lips to his. He tastes like the grape he’d just eaten, and you’re sure you do as well. His tongue presses against yours as he coaxes your lips apart, deepening the kiss as the clock strikes midnight. When he pulls away, you subconsciously chase his lips, craving the feeling of his mouth on yours again. Taerae grins a little, giving you another small peck. “Is that what you needed luck for?”

     Your face warms, and you’re sure Taerae can feel it from the way his hands hold your blushing cheeks still. “How’d you know?” you ask shyly.

     “You’re more obvious than you think.” You laugh as you let your forehead fall to rest on his shoulder, both of you still crammed under the table. Taerae’s back was probably hurting, but he didn’t say anything about it. “And did you really think that I haven’t seen what sitting under the table means?"

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

One of Ricky’s favorite things about his relationship with you was that you were comfortable with staying in just as much as going out. And while you both loved your date nights out, it was usually him dragging you out to the restaurants or museums or wherever else you were going. This time though, you’d done the dragging to a scene that was definitely going to overstimulate you both.

     With small apologies, you push past people in the crowd filling the streets of New York’s Times Square, hand firmly in Ricky’s as you pull him along with you. The bright lights hurt his eyes and there were so many people around that the cold air couldn’t even touch his nose. His grip on you tightens a little, too worried about losing you in the busy crowd. Ricky had to remind himself that he was doing this for you. That you’d wanted to see the ball drop since you were little and used to watch it on TV with your family.

     “Come on!” you shout softly to him as you find a spot in the crowd to stand and watch. Ricky’s quick to wrap his arms around you from behind, protecting you from the way other people were shoving to try and get a better view of the ball before the New Year’s countdown began. You glance up at him. “You okay?”

     “I’m okay as long as you are.” And it was the truth. While Ricky may not be the biggest fan of crowds like this, he would do it for you. The way the shining lights illuminated the excitement on your face was worth any kind of social anxiety he might feel. Besides, having you in his arms like this, smiling up at him made all of those worries go away.

     “It’s starting!” you gasp softly as the people around you both begin the countdown. You’re quick to follow along, shouting the words like everyone else, and with a small chuckle, Ricky begins counting down as well. It’s like time slows as he watches your eyes, the glimmer of awe in them as you watch such a simple thing happen. It was adorable. He knew he should be watching the ball like you were, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your face even as the shouts of Happy New Year rang out around the streets. Confetti explodes from the top of buildings, raining down on the crowd and you tilt your head back to watch with a small giggle. 

     Your eyes meet his and somehow, your smile softens even more. Then, like the other couples surrounding you in the square, Ricky presses his lips against yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

“D’you have a New Year’s kiss yet?” Were the first words you heard from the tall individual. You look up from your drink to the boy who approaches you as you sit at the table your friends had claimed at the club, expecting to tell off some ugly, egotistical douchebag. But the face that meets your eyes is anything but that. Fluffy brown hair falls over his chocolate-colored eyes as he smiles at you. Thank goodness you were sitting. If you were standing, you would’ve collapsed right into his arms at the sight.

     “Me?” The boy laughs as he nods.

     “Yes, you.” He offers you a hand. “I’m Gyuvin.” You give him your name as you take his hand. Being careful of your shoes, he helps you stand, and– Wow, he’s so tall. The top of your head barely meets his chin as his large hand grips yours. 

     “You’re offering your New Year’s kiss to a stranger?”

     Gyuvin shrugs, grin never leaving his pretty pink lips. “Isn’t there a saying of how you give a kiss to who you want to spend the new year with?” Your eyes flutter and your heart probably does too. 

     “Yeah–” He cuts you off as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you a little as he carries you towards the dance floor. There are several bodies in the space already, moving to the beat as the seconds to the new year slowly count down. A small laugh leaves you as Gyuvin sets you down.

     “Then consider this as me asking you out.” 

     “Well, you definitely get points for creativity…” you trail off as you wrap your arms around his neck. You have to stand on your toes a little to reach him, but you decide that it’s fine with the way his hands go to your hips. You could get used to this. 

     “Is that a yes?” You had a feeling you weren’t ever going to learn how to say no to him. So, you nod.

     His body presses closely against yours as midnight draws nearer, almost drawing out the anticipation as all of his firm lines meet your softer ones. Your eyes never leave Gyuvin’s as you both mutter words to each other, already feeling strangely comfortable and at home despite meeting only a few minutes ago. What seals the deal, though, is how deeply he kisses you once the clock hits midnight. Gyuvin’s tongue doesn’t fight your lips open, having enough common sense not to try to make out with you in public (especially since it was your first kiss with him), but that doesn’t stop him from holding you even closer to him somehow.

      And, yeah, this was the right decision, you conclude as he pulls away.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

Giggling softly, you cling to your boyfriend as he carries you like you weigh nothing more than a feather. Gunwook stumbles slightly, and you know it’s from the drinks he’s had. The drinks you’ve both had courtesy to your friend group and the little New Year’s Eve party they were throwing. If you concentrated enough, you could still taste the sparkling bubbles and tangy grapes from the champagne. But you didn’t want to focus on that. You wanted to focus on the boy whose arms were wrapped tightly around your waist. 

      “Wookie,” you laugh as he tucks his face into your neck, your back meeting the wall behind you with a small Thump. He mutters a gentle sorry against your skin, but you don’t really mind. The alcohol is making you giddy and it’s making Gunwook clingy. When he pulls away to look at you in the darkness of the hallway he’d taken you to, your vision clears slightly. His skin almost looks like it’s glowing, rosebuds of blush blooming on his cheeks and you lift your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re so soft,” you mumble, squishing his cheeks so his lips stick out a little. Gunwook’s pretty brown eyes crinkle into half-moons as he laughs at your words.

     He shifts your weight in his hands to lift you higher and you wrap your legs around his middle. As his large hands knead at the softness of your thighs peeking out from underneath your ridden-up dress, a small shiver goes through you. “I love you,” he whispers, lips finding your cheek. Then your forehead, then your nose, and finally, the corner of your mouth. “I love you sooo much–”

     “Love you too, Wookie,” you whisper, letting go of his face to hold onto his broad shoulders. Distantly, you can hear your friends begin the ten-second countdown to the New Year. They aren’t bothering looking for either of you, because they know you’re exactly where you want to be: in the arms of the person you love the most. Gunwook presses his forehead against yours as you wait for the cheers celebrating 2025 to sound. But as soon as the number One is shouted, Gunwook’s lips are on yours.     He’s quick to pry your lips apart, meeting your tongue with his as he kisses you deeply. You can feel him smile as the words “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” ring through the house. Yeah. This was the best way to ring in the New Year.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓨ujin ﹙𝓱.﹚ㅤ

“This is so embarrassing,” Yujin grumbles as the two of you continue down the driveway from your house. His parents wanted him back home by 12:15 and considering his house was a good fifteen-minute drive away from the friend's house you had been hanging out at, you were leaving a few minutes before the new year. The only problem? Yujin couldn’t drive. 

     Not that he couldn't, he just didn’t have his license yet, so you were stuck being his personal Uber. Not that you minded. He did though. 

     His hand grips yours, keeping them tucked in his coat pocket so you didn’t get too cold. “I swear, as soon as I can, I’m making an appointment so I can drive you around like you deserve.”

     You giggle, “What? You don’t like being my passenger princess?” Your boyfriend groans, the breath that leaves him showing in the air from how cold it is outside. “Seriously, Yujin, I don’t mind driving you around.”

     “But I do,” his small pout makes your heart melt. You weren’t sure how a person could be so adorable. “Makes me feel… I don’t know, less manly? Like I’m a child.”

     “We are children,” you remind him, squeezing his hand in his coat pocket as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. “One of us is just a child that can drive–”

     “Gosh, never mind,” he laughs and you smile a little, glad that he doesn’t take your teasing to heart. “It’ll be my New Year’s resolution. Being more of a stereotypical boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrows at that. The both of you are walking slower than you usually do despite it being cold, wanting to prolong your time together. 

     “And how are you gonna do that, hmm?” He looks at you, cheeks rosy from the chilly air and your eyes flick down to his lips for a moment. 

     “I’ll buy you more gifts.” You hum at the thought. “And… I’ll be more romantic,” he lists off his ideas as you begin to approach your car, stepping into the snow. It crunches under your feet as you walk toward the street. “But to start…” he trails off, your hands leaving his pocket as he stops in his tracks and you walk on. He pulls on your hands so you stumble back towards him, standing chest to chest. “I’ll do this.”

     And then in a move that’s much bolder than you were expecting from your boyfriend, his lips press against yours. It must be midnight, you think to yourself before melting into the kiss, enjoying the feel of the soft movement of his mouth against yours. Your forehead rests against his as you separate to breathe. 

     Breathlessly, you nod. “Kiss me like that again, and I’ll never bring up you not having a license again.”

[immobulusmalfoy]

From Molly, With Love // George Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: Molly picks her family, no matter who they are, through the sweaters she makes. She's already picked George's SO, you! Warnings: Incredible amounts of fluff, like tooth-rotting. And Percy. A/N: Not sure why it's Christmas all the time in my fics. Just go with it. __________________________________________

Christmas morning was always a conundrum. Especially with the twins involved. I’d planned to sleep without setting an alarm, but I hadn’t expressed that to my two best friends and that had been my big mistake.

“Wake up, sleepy head!” they chorused, jumping on the bed.

I groaned, cracking open an eye to see both boys nearly on top of me, effectively pinning me beneath my blankets.

“Happy Christmas!” they shouted.

“Shhhh. ‘S too early. How’d you get in here this time?”

“That’s for us to know,” Fred started, “and you to find out.” George finished with a grin.

“Alright then, Happy Christmas to you lot, as well.”

I finally opened your eyes completely and sat up, trying to tame my hair and wipe my eyes from sleep. The twins had settled down at the end of my bed and were currently weighing the pile of presents they’d discovered there, attempting to figure out what was in each one. A lumpy one near the bottom was definitely one from Mrs. Weasley, but I knew I had a few from my parents as well as something from the twins.

They didn’t even allow me to get dressed or do anything else before they shoved the small pile of parcels in my lap and stared excitedly. I narrowed my eyes at them, daring them to have done anything remotely prank-related to my things. They looked the picture of innocence, though, in their blue sweaters knitted by their mum.

I opened my parents’ gifts first, the first being three muggle books I’d asked for and the second being a custom-made holster for my wand since my pockets never seemed big enough to hold it. I had a new set of quills from my aunt and uncle in France, too. Then I opened the one Molly had sent me, discovering a lovely emerald sweater with my first initial on it. I ran my hands lovingly over the yarn. Last year I’d gotten a pretty blue one, but I was happier with this green one. Beneath the sweater was a package of homemade fudge that I knew was going to be hidden for a later date. And finally, the twins had gotten me a whole package of my favorite candies and some sachets of tea.

I thanked them both and hugged them, then tugged on my sweater over my pajamas. I’d barely had a chance to run to the bathroom before the boys were dragging me over to the boys dorms to harass their brothers, both Percy and Ron.

“Merry Christmas!” George shouted.

“Hey look—Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!” Fred called attention to the sweater Harry had in his possession, one that was the exact same color as my own sweater. I smiled at the boy who looked up at me a bit shyly as Fred snatched the sweater out of his hands.

“Harry’s is better than ours, though.” Fred observed. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.” He looked pointedly over at me, but I just shrugged.

I’d met Molly at the end of our first year when the twins and I got off the train. My parents hadn’t been there to meet me at the station, so Molly offered to wait until they got there. I’d felt horrible since they hadn’t shown up for another hour, but Molly and her husband and the boys had all made me feel like I hadn’t been a burden at all and I’d so appreciated it.

To this day, Molly sent me letters every once and awhile to check in, even more than my own parents and I loved the fact that she’d taken the time to knit me a sweater for the last three years. It made me feel special.

“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

I knew George was just trying to get a rise out of Ron, but I did feel bad that Ron didn’t like the sweaters his mum made. I knew he would be more upset if we kept pushing, but George didn’t let up and chucked the sweater at Ron’s head.

“I hate maroon,” the boy moaned, but he did put the sweater on and I beamed at him.

“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed once the sweater was safely donned by Ron. “I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid—we know we’re called Gred and Forge.” George grinned, his eyes twinkling as he winked at me. I snorted.

“What’s all this noise?” A voice broke through the din we were making and I sighed, knowing exactly who was coming to spoil all the fun. Percy. It’s not that I didn’t like the third eldest Weasley, but he was usually a stick in the mud and he found great joy in ruining our fun.

He’d stuck his head through Ron and Harry’s dorm room door, looking disapproving. It took all that was in me not to laugh at his disheveled curly hair and his smudged glasses. He looked like he’d just gotten up, something I usually didn’t see from “Mr. Perfect Prefect Percy.” Percy was carrying a knitted sweater too and I brightened immediately once I noticed it. I was curious what color he’d get and I was surprised to see that it was a gold color with a maroon ‘P’ sewn in, but it did match his prefect’s badge.

“P is for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on. We’re all wearing ours. Even Harry got one.” Fred said impatiently as he snatched Percy’s sweater from his arms and allowed George to take the other side, forcing it over Percy’s head while he protested.

After they’d shoved it over his head and trapped his arms in the body part since they hadn’t allowed him to get his arms in, I did laugh because he just looked so funny. His glasses were knocked sideways and his hair was even more of a mess.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”

And then we marched Percy into the Great Hall where we all sat at the table and consumed as much food as we were able, the Christmas feast making me feel like I wouldn’t be able to eat anything else for a week with how much I’d eaten. Fred and George kept swapping sweets on their plates and dumping extra peas in my mashed potatoes, but I couldn’t even be angry at them.

Three years later, Molly was still making all of us sweaters and other knitted things and I happily donned a maroon sweater the same shade as Ron’s usual one, my first initial on it in gold again. It was perfectly comfortable and I mooned over it to George as we sat on one of the couches in the common room.

With the Triwizard cup happening this year, mine and the twins’ sixth year, we’d all decided to stay at the castle for Christmas yet again. As much as I loved celebrating Christmas with my family, there was something special about celebrating it at Hogwarts with my friends.

George was sitting back on the couch while I laid my head on his legs, a book over my stomach that I’d honestly forgotten.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” George asked as he brushed a piece of my hair off my forehead. I looked up into his deep eyes and smiled.

“No, I’m not nervous. Are you?” I asked.

George had asked me to the Yule Ball that was happening tonight and I was thrilled. Though I wasn’t sure how George was feeling about it.

“I’m more nervous that I’ll break your foot by stepping on it.” George laughed, poking me in the side. I squirmed away from his touch, slapping his hands away as he continued his ticklish assault.

“I’ll wear bigger shoes to account for the swelling then, shall I?” I teased, causing him to turn a pink color. “Anyway, I did promise Angelina that I’d get ready with her and Katie, so I probably should be off.”

“You, worrying about appearances?” George gasped, “What has the world come to?”

“Hush, you. I’ve got to make sure you don’t outshine me all the time.”

I flashed him another grin and rolled off the couch to head up to the sixth year girls’ room where Angie and Katie were already arguing over makeup colors and whether or not their dates would really care. Considering that Angie was going with Fred, I remarked that he would care. Despite the boys not appearing like they care about things like that, I happened to know that Fred wanted to put on a show at the ball. And Katie was going as “friends” with Cormac McLaggen, a wizard I happened to hate for his bad attitude and pompous behavior.

“Hey!” Angelina protested as I disappeared into our shared bathroom.

“Yes?” I asked, popping my head back into our room. I was sure the others would be there soon and I wanted to get a shower before going through the hassle of hair and makeup, even though Katie had already offered to fix up my hair for me.

“Are you going to have enough time to get ready? You haven’t even started and the ball starts at eight.”

“I’ve got three hours. That should be more than enough time.” I said, and I was right. It didn’t take me more than two to take a shower, change into my dress robes which happened to be maroon just like my sweater, and have Katie do my hair in some elaborate braided crown around my head. Once I’d finished my makeup and donned some gold jewelry, I snagged my cape and headed downstairs before the other girls even thought of it.

And there George was at the bottom of the stairs, lounging on one of the couches beside Fred and Lee Jordan. He looked fantastic in his dress robes and I smiled once he looked up and saw me.

“Blimey, you look gorgeous.” George said as he stood up and met me at the bottom of the steps.

“What, this old thing?” I teased him, “Just something I had lying around waiting for a special occasion. You look spiffy!”

George flushed again and brought me over to the couch. I collapsed between him and Fred, bringing my arms around the two of them.

“Look at my boys! Aren’t they beautiful?” I gushed to Lee, and he laughed at the twins’ expressions, knowing I was giving them grief for no reason besides the fact that it was fun. I smacked kisses to both of their cheeks, Fred wiping it off immediately with a halfway-disgusted look.

“Get off, you big lump.” Fred snorted good-naturedly. “Angie coming down soon?”

“Hold your horses, mister. She’ll come down when she’s good and ready. You reckon Ron figured out who Hermione’s date is yet?” I asked once I noticed the younger girl coming downstairs in her blue dress robes. She’d shown them to me a few weeks ago when she’d gotten them and I had to admit that they looked better on her than I thought, and I’d known she would be gorgeous in them.

“I bet you a galleon he throws a massive fit once he sees.” Fred remarked as Hermione escaped through the portrait hole with a wave back towards us.

“You’re on.” Lee grinned, twiddling his wand between his fingers. The more he did it, the more sparks flew from the end of it and I instinctively turned farther into George to make sure they didn’t fall on my dress. He wrapped an arm around me and tucked me into his chest, causing my heart to start beating a little more erratically. His laugh felt like a rumble underneath me and I hoped he couldn’t feel the change in my heartbeat.

I didn’t know when it had started, really. One day I was with the twins and I realized that, as much as I love them together, I had a major soft spot for George. I’d pretty quickly figured out how to tell them apart when we were younger and the more time I’d spent with them that first year had ensured I never got them confused, so I knew my feelings for George were genuine. He was just so sweet and passionate about his interests, and I realized very soon that my crush was maybe more than a crush. Well, definitely more than a crush. I was pretty sure I’d fallen in love with him. But I didn’t know how George felt.

Sometimes I fancied that I caught him looking at me with a different expression, one that screamed “I like you,” but then I second-guessed myself and told myself it was only a look that a friend would give. But I wanted to know how he felt more than anything, even just so I could move on if he would never feel the same. But, oh, how I wish he did feel the same way.

And then he’d asked me to the Yule Ball, confusing me even more. Fred had asked Angie because he liked her, a fact he’d admitted one night after a few too many spiked butterbeers. I knew Ron had tried asking Hermione, but he hadn’t listened to my advice and he’d asked too late when she’d already gotten another date. I knew Ron hadn’t noticed, but it was pretty clear to quite a few of us that Ron and Hermione had it bad for each other and were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings on the matter. I was sure it was going to blow up in their faces tonight and had put a galleon on it.

Most of the other people I knew who were going were either going strictly as friends or in the relationship mindset, but George had never specified what exactly we were doing. Fred had called out to Angie one night while studying in the common room, asking her to go. I hadn’t been asked yet and I’d voiced how nice it was that Fred was getting a move-on by asking her to go. But then the next day, George had handed me a library book I’d been searching for and promptly pulled me aside and asked me to go to the ball with him. It was quiet and simple and I’d loved him even more for it.

Deep down, I’d been hoping he’d ask me and I’d been thrilled that he had. But his face was saying something totally different and it scared me. I didn’t want to be his pity date, but I’d rather be his date than worry about going to the ball alone.

George broke me from my thoughts by rubbing his thumb over my shoulder and causing goosebumps to form where he’d touched my bare skin. I shivered and looked into his face.

“You ready to head down to the hall?” he asked.

“I don’t mind waiting if you want to go down together.” I murmured, bringing my hand up to still his on my shoulder. He froze at my touch. “But we can go down now if you want to.”

“Let’s go down and scope out the place.” George smiled, getting up and helping me to my feet. “Lads, we’re going to scope out the place. I’m starving, so we’re gonna scheme our ways into getting snacks.”

“Why don’t you just sneak into the kitchens?” Lee asked, looking up at us. I snorted, because way to go Lee for using his brain.

“That’s brilliant. Let’s do that.” I dragged George along for the ride as we made our way to the portrait that would let us into the kitchens. George did the honors of tickling the pear and then we were in the kitchens faster than you could say ‘charm.’

The room was full of amazing treats and the house elves smiled at us as I waved at them. They knew who we were and I’d chatted with loads of them since the twins and I figured out how to get in here. Sometimes I wondered if the twins missed the magic map we’d pilfered from Filch’s office as much as I did on occasion. It was such a wonderful piece of magic, though I was glad Harry seemed to be putting it to good use now since we’d given it to him last year.

Armed with snacks that we carried in our hands for easy access, we exited the kitchens and made our way to the Great Hall, which had been transformed like never before for the ball. McGonagall gave George and I a surly look once she saw what we were carrying, but she didn’t say a word to us about it. I was sure she had more important things to worry about than us stealing snacks from the kitchens, especially since this event wasn’t just for us, but also for the two wizarding schools whose students were currently staying with us.

I spotted Hermione with her date, grinning away as they moved towards the table where they’d be sitting with the other Triwizard Cup champions. It was no surprise that we had assigned seats and I thanked my lucky stars that George and I would be sharing the table with most of the other Gryffindor sixth years.

“Is Hermione here with Krum?” I heard Katie ask, and I was startled since I hadn't even heard her come up behind me. I nodded and she smiled, “Good for her! I wish he was my date.” She tossed a grumpy look at McLaggen who was looking even oilier than usual. To his credit, he pretended not to hear her and instead said hello to George and a few of the other people milling about.

George and I took our seats and watched as other witches and wizards from all three schools entered the room, their reactions the same as ours as they surveyed the room in all its splendor. It was wonderful charm work to convert the room this spectacularly.

I absolutely loved sitting at the table, hearing all the conversations going on around us and admiring everyone’s outfits. George sat as close to me as acceptably allowed, but I didn’t mind it because I’d made up my mind.

At the end of the night, once the dancing was done and we’d eaten as much as we wanted, I was going to tell George how I felt. The thought almost made me sick, but I knew I had to do it. I had to. Otherwise, the feeling was going to eat me alive and I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore, even if he rejected me. At least I’d still have him as a friend, I hoped.

As the night dragged on, especially after Harry’s disastrous dance with one of the Patil sisters, I grew tired. Only George noticed. We’d been out on the dance floor for hours, only taking breaks to down lemonade and pumpkin juice and some sort of punch the house elves had created. I’d probably eaten at least five mince pies and George was well on his way to eating the whole table full of sweets. But after the Weird Sisters had left and the party started dying down, George pulled me aside.

“Wanna take a walk before we go to bed? I bet the third floor is empty. Well, except for Mrs. Norris who’s probably roaming about looking for students making out.” he laughed in my ear, his arm wrapped around my waist.

I shivered at his touch, but nodded, my grin infectious. George grinned back, grabbing both of our cloaks as he told Fred we were leaving. In between him yelling back and forth with Angie about something, of course.

The third floor was empty, just like George said, and we settled into comfortable silence as we walked down the hallways. The paintings watched us as we went, but I chose to ignore them as I tried to settle my rapid heartbeat. Was now my chance?

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt George settle his hand in mine, our fingers now intertwined between us. I looked up at him to find him already looking down at me.

“You’re really special, y’know that?” George broke the silence. I felt a hot flush extending up my neck as I smiled at him.

“Is that your way of saying you’re happy to have me as your weird best friend?”

“Oh no, that spot is reserved for Lee.” he joked. I slapped his arm softly with my other hand as he laughed at me. “Only kidding, lovey. Promise.”

“Good. Lee has nothing on me.” I sniffed.

But that was my last coherent thought as George yanked on our entwined hands and pulled me right in front of him. And then, most wonderful of all, reached his other hand over to cup the back of my head and kissed me. Kissed me! George was kissing me! I was screaming internally.

The kiss didn’t last long before George broke away to gauge my reaction, his eyes searching my face for any sign of disgust. But how could I be disgusted when the boy I was in love with had just done the one thing I’d been waiting for for over a year?

“George?” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Is it silly if I say I love you?”

His eyes widened with surprise before he started grinning uncontrollably.

“Nope! Say it as loudly as you like because, love, I adore you. Godric, I thought you were gonna slap me. I never thought you’d like me too, let alone love me.”

“I could still slap you, but I’d much rather kiss you.” I laughed before leaning up to kiss him again.

“Blimey, mum’s gonna be ecstatic. She loves you.” He whispered, and then he kissed me over and over again until I was nearly drunk with it, the feeling indescribable. But I was happy, oh so happy. And so was he.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 10 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

9 months later. . .

“Look who finally made it,” Liam teases when he opens his door.

I scoff playfully and hug him after being ushered into the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d be here earlier, but traffic was a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I know.” He waves me off and runs a hand down his dress shirt, smoothing it out. “But I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

I nod and accept the spare key he hands me while slipping into his dress shoes. “Have fun!” I tease when he shrugs on his jacket.

“It’s a business dinner, not a date, Y/N.” He deadpans which makes me laugh and slap his shoulder before he leaves with a final wave and smile.

It’s the end of September and I’m visiting New York for a couple of days since I have some time off before the hockey season begins again.

I’m here to visit Liam— obviously, since I’m staying with him— but also Tara and Sam, who agreed it would be better if I stayed with Liam since they’re apartment is fairly small and their roommate, Quinn, doesn’t know me.

Since Christmas, we’ve only seen each other once, three months ago, at one of my hockey games which Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad came to see after they all collectively moved to New York.

I was happy to see them again, and glad we were once again living in the same time zone, but there was an underlying tension the whole time we hung out because things between Sam and I haven’t been the same ever since Christmas.

While Tara and I are in contact almost daily, Sam and I barely even talk once a week. It’s not for her lack of trying though, it’s because I’ve distanced myself ever since I realized it was hopeless to think the two of us could ever be a thing.

I gave up on her, doing exactly what Tara told me not to do, and I even tried to move on, but that didn’t work out as planned.

I went on a couple of dates here and there, and hooked up with several people, but I just can’t get over Sam even though nowadays we’re barely even friends.

The only reason we could still be considered friends is because of our backstory and because Tara connects us. Other than that, we’re back to the way things were when Sam first returned to Woodsboro, and being like this hurts even more than when she was simply gone.

Those five years were undoubtedly the most painful years of my life, but now everything is so much worse. I thought I’d gotten Sam back, I thought we could finally be something, but all of that hope shattered as soon as she said she’d never do long distance. She also never acknowledged how Richie exposed my feelings for her, which makes it abundantly clear that she’d rather just forget about it and move on as friends.

I know she doesn’t owe me anything and she’s been trying to stay in contact as best as she can, but I’m just too hurt to let her back in and accept her as just a friend.

I know how stupid that sounds and it’s not my intention to hurt her by keeping my distance, but it’s just how I cope with everything.

With a sigh I enter Liam’s apartment properly and let out an impressed whistle when I realize just how big and luxurious it actually is. When he sent me his address and I saw that it was on the upper west side, I was surprised because living here is usually reserved for the rich and famous, but he explained that his company owns the building and rents its apartments to their employees for a reasonable price.

That doesn’t make it any less luxurious though, and when I take a look in the bathroom and see a rain shower with a view of the twinkling city outside I make a mental note to use it as soon as possible.

Right now, I’m hungry though, so I raid Liam’s fridge, helping myself to a smoothie and some leftover chocolate cake that he has for some reason.

The dinner he’s at right now wasn’t planned, it was a last minute thing his boss organized, but I’m not complaining. Yes, we were supposed to do something together tonight, but I’ll just check and see if Sam and Tara are free instead.

We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow for lunch, but I don’t see why I can’t stop by their place tonight, too.

I pull out my phone and call Tara after gulping down some of my smoothie. She doesn’t answer, so I reluctantly call Sam next.

Tara’s probably in the shower or something. . . God knows she loves to take long ass showers. When she lived with me my water bill almost doubled.

Sam picks up after two rings which is not surprising since I can’t remember the last time I called her instead of the other way around.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” Her concerned voice makes my stomach twist and I hate how she thinks something’s wrong because I’m calling her instead of Tara.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. Just got into the city and was wondering if I could stop by your place for some dinner since Liam was called into work,” I say.

The sound of traffic on Sam’s end of the line makes me realize she’s not home and I think calling might have been a mistake, but she immediately agrees. “Of course. I’ll text you the address again. I’m not home yet because I just got out of therapy, but Tara and Quinn should be home.“

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence, but Sam is quick to break it by saying, “Alright then. See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.” I hang up and exhale slowly.

It’s just Sam, Y/N. Pull yourself together. You’re going to go see Tara and Sam, and their roommate, not just Sam.

The two of us haven’t been alone since Christmas eve and I’m not planning on changing that anytime soon.

I finish the piece of cake and throw away the empty smoothie bottle before grabbing a zip up hoodie from my bag and heading out of the apartment.

Sam and Tara’s apartment is quite far away, and because I’m not in the mood to call an Uber or take the subway, I take one of the public e scooters standing around, unlocking it with my phone before heading off.

It’s nice getting some fresh air after being cooped up in my car for hours and not even fifteen minutes later I’m in front of the building Sam sent me the address of.

I get off the scooter and park it around the corner, making my way inside the building after getting buzzed in by some random person.

Compared to Liam’s building, this place is a dump, but it seems relatively safe and affordable, so who am I to judge. This is New York after all.

I head up the stairs and knock on the door of Sam and Tara’s apartment, my heart rate picking up with each second that passes until the door finally opens.

Having expected Sam or Tara, I’m surprised when a stranger greets me. It’s a red haired girl, around Tara’s age, with a round face and gray eyes. She’s dressed in only a robe and I momentarily avert my eyes when she reties it around her waist.

“Hi, you must be Quinn,” I say, raising my hand in greeting.

Quinn’s eyes rake over me and she smirks before her eyes snap back up to mine. “Yeah, and you’re Y/N, right?”

I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her hungry gaze. “The one and only,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Quinn’s face softens ever so slightly and her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “So I heard. . . You’re here to see Sam and Tara?” she guesses and when I nod again, she opens the door properly and invites me inside.

“Sam should be here any minute, but Tara is out,” she says.

I frown. “She’s out? Sam said she’d be here.”

Quinn smiles apologetically and goes to say something but then a man’s voice from a nearby room calls for her. “Babe? You coming back or what?”

My eyes widen and I feel heat rushing into my cheeks. That’s why she’s only wearing a robe. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. . . interrupt you and your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Quinn laughs as if the idea is ridiculous and waves me off. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just hooking up.” She eyes me once again with that lustful look in her eyes and bites her lip seductively, squeezing my biceps. “You could join us if you want. The more the merrier, am I right?”

I squirm and pull my arm out of her grasp with an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

God, what’s up with her?

I want to ask about Tara’s whereabouts again when the door behind us opens.

My eyes instantly lock with Sam’s and even though I’m nervous to see her again, I’m also relieved she’s here to distract Quinn from making a move on me again.

“Y/N. . .” She hugs me after a moment’s hesitation before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up on the hook next to the door. “I see you’ve already met Quinn.”

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and avoid looking at the aforementioned roommate. “Mhmm.”

Quinn, having absolutely no shame whatsoever, touches my arm again. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was such a snack, Sam?”

Oh lord. . .

My face heats up again, but Sam is quick to come to my rescue. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow before stepping in between Quinn and me which forces the redhead to let go of me.

“Right. I forgot you don’t like to share.” Quinn laughs, unbothered and turns to head into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that. I know she can be a bit much sometimes.” Sam glances at me over her shoulder, and I wave her off nervously.

“It’s okay.“

She turns as soon as Quinn is out of sight and I hold my breath at how close she is.

She looks as beautiful as ever even though she looks tired and I curse my heart for flipping in my chest when she picks a piece of lint off my shoulder.

The white off-shoulder top she’s wearing over her tank top looks incredible on her and I have to force myself not to look at her exposed neck and collar bones too much, a task that is incredibly hard because she’s wearing the necklace I gave her for Christmas.

It glints in the low light and even though the knowledge that she still wears it makes my insides melt, it also serves as a reminder why I’ve been keeping my distance.

Don’t get hurt again, Y/N.

I swallow thickly and lean back a little, not missing the way confusion and hurt flashes across Sam’s face before she clears her throat and steps back.

She looks anywhere but at me before asking Quinn, “Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn, who was just about to open a bottle of wine in the kitchen turns with a sheepish smile. “Uh, don’t be mad. . .”

I frown and follow Sam into the kitchen.

“Why would I be mad?” Sam asks and the way Quinn winces slightly at her tone makes my lips twitch with amusement.

“Because you get mad,” she says and I can’t help but agree silently.

Sam does have a temper, however I’m not sure why she’d be mad when Quinn tells her where Tara is as long as she’s not alone.

“Babe?” The guy from what I’m assuming is Quinn’s bedroom calls for her again which makes Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the question of Tara’s whereabouts momentarily forgotten.

“Is that Paul?” she asks and Quinn cringes when the guy shouts, “Who the fuck is Paul?”

“Life, I have found,” she says quietly with an innocent shrug, “is all about variety.”

This time I can’t help but smile properly, and Sam chuckles softly, too.

“So, uh, where’s Tara?” she asks after a moment which makes Quinn sigh helplessly, the wine on the counter forgotten as she toys with the bottle opener in her hands.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party.”

Huh. I didn’t think Tara’d be one to enjoy frat parties but I guess she’s young and wants to try everything now that she’s in a new city and in college.

Sam doesn’t seem to agree though and it’s clear why Quinn was scared of her getting mad when she exclaims, “What? I begged her not to go to that!”

I want to tell her that it’s just a party, but she seems to haver her reasons why she doesn’t want Tara there, so I stay quiet.

Quinn sighs again. “And we’ve now arrived at mad. . .”

I try my best not to smile— Quinn’s actually pretty funny now that she’s not trying to sleep with me— and focus on Sam instead.

She seems ready to explode, but gathers herself by taking a deep breath and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she deflates and when she asks, “Do you know if she at least took her taser?” she sounds more worried than mad.

A taser?

Quinn grabs the wine off the counter and pushes the cork screw into the cork before twisting it and opening the bottle. “I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” she says hesitantly which makes Sam huff in frustration and brush past me back to the front door where she grabs a taser from a dresser.

I follow her, knowing she’s going to go back out to look for Tara, and Quinn follows me with the now open bottle of wine in hand, ready to return to her not-boyfriend.

Sam eyes the taser for a moment, her jaw working and I move around her to grab her jacket off the hook for her.

Right as I reach for it though, Quinn says something that makes me freeze. “Oohh. Is cute boy shirtless again?”

My head snaps around so fast, it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap, and my eyes instantly land on what, or rather who, Quinn and Sam are looking at through the window. There’s a shirtless guy, seemingly my age or a couple years older in the apartment right across from us.

I have to admit, he is cute with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular upper body, and I even smile when Quinn’s not-boyfriend asks, “Who’s cute boy, babe?” and Quinn cringes, replying, “Always you. . . sweetie.” But that smile is quickly wiped off my face when I see the way Sam is looking at him.

Her eyes are soft and there’s something like longing written all over her face which feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.

This is why I keep my distance. . . She’s not mine and if she likes this cute boy, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m just hurt and I’m once again reminded to keep my heart guarded.

But then Sam’s eyes snap to me and her face instantly falls and something like guilt flickers across her eyes, but I don’t dwell on it and avert my own eyes, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with Liam’s key in the pocket of my hoodie.

“You guys have been checking each other out for months, why don’t you just talk to him?” Quinn asks softly, and once again, it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Sam turns away from the window and I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “Because. . .” Her voice falters ever so slightly before going on. “That right there is all the romantic interaction I’m ready for.”

Once again a reminder that she’s not over Richie, and definitely not into me. . .

Out of the corner of my eye I see Quinn shrug and when Sam says, “I’m going to find Tara, you coming with me, Y/N?” I nod wordlessly without meeting her eye, and follow her out of the apartment after returning Quinn’s awkward wave.

I’m doing exactly what I planned on avoiding, which is being alone with Sam, but my worry for her going out alone outweighs my need to keep my distance, so I silently follow her down the stairs and outside where she pulls out her phone to look up the directions to the frat house.

I forgot you don’t like to share. . .

Quinn’s words suddenly echo through my mind and I frown because Sam and I obviously aren’t a thing, but before I can dwell on it too long, Sam nudges me and starts walking. “Come on, let’s go. The frat house isn’t too far from here, so we can walk.”

I wordlessly fall into step beside her, intent on not talking about what just happened, but she seems to have other plans because after we cross the street she turns to me with furrowed eyebrows and says, “You know, Danny and I aren’t a thing or anything. . .”

“What?” I know she probably means cute boy, but I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I thought they only knew each other because they live across from each other, but it seems as though they know each other better than that. Also, the fact that Sam is trying to deny that something is going on between them makes me believe there actually is something going.

Which is fine. . . Totally fine. She’s an adult and she can make her own choices.

“Y-you know,” she stutters. “The guy, Cute Boy, he and I, we’re not a thing. Not really— I mean we’re just—“

I stop dead in my tracks and raise a hand which makes her shut up and stop walking as well. “Why are you telling me this?”

She seems taken aback by the harshness of my tone and frowns, so I sigh and add, “I mean, I don’t tell you anything about my love life, so why are you telling me about yours?”

Sam’s frown deepens. “I just— I thought you should know— I mean. . . You’re my best friend.”

I scoff and before I can stop myself I say, “Am I though?”

“What?”

“Your best friend?” I clarify, ignoring how crushed she looks at the implication of my words. “We’ve barely spoken in nine months.”

“And whose fault is that?” she snaps back defensively. She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with a challenging glare.

I know she’s not actually mad, she’s just hurt and she’s put up her guard, so I deflate a little.

She’s right, it’s my fault we haven’t really talked since Christmas, but I’m not about to spill the beans and tell her why.

“Look,” I say softly. “Let’s not get into this now.”

“Why not?” she asks harshly. “Because you can’t just hang up if it gets too much?”

I cringe at that because lately every time she calls and asks what’s wrong I usually come up with an excuse to hang up or ignore her texts.

I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just find Tara okay, we can get into this tomorrow.”

Sam bites the inside of her cheek and the storm of emotions in her eyes makes me believe she’s about to disagree, but then she huffs and turns around to continue leading our way to the frat house.

Long story short, at the party, Sam ends up tasing a guy who tried to drag Tara upstairs in the balls which in turn leads to Tara storming out with the rest of us— Mindy, her girlfriend Anika, Chad, Chad’s roommate Ethan, Sam, and me— hot on her heels.

“Tara, will you stop?” Sam says, sounding irritated as Tara continues to dash ahead. She’s short and has asthma, so she’s not going all too fast, but still. . .

She has yet to realize I’m also here, but I don’t want to get in the middle of what’s about to go down between her and Sam, so I stay back with the others, the twins having greeted me with quick hugs a moment ago before officially introducing me to Anika and Ethan.

“I cannot believe you did that! You embarrassed me!” Tara shouts over her shoulder.

“That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you,” Sam argues and even though she’s right, that guy was really sleazy, she didn’t actually have to tase him. Also it looked like Chad had it covered, but I’m not about to get in the middle of this.

“So?” Tara stops abruptly and turns on her heels to face Sam.

The rest of us come to a halt a safe distance away, but I raise my eyebrows at what Tara just said.

“So?” Sam echoes incredulously, voicing my exact thoughts, but Tara is not having it.

“If I want to hook up with an asshole that’s my decision!” she shouts and even though she’s right, it is her decision, I don’t like the way she’s talking to Sam like she did something wrong by trying to protect her.

Sam tenses and I know what Tara just said hit a nerve, but she stays calm and simply nods dismissively. “Okay. . .”

Tara doesn’t seem to be done just yet though because she goes on, “I mean, you’re out of my life for five years and then you can’t leave me alone for five minutes.”

Yikes. She’s right, but. . . yikes.

“Because you’re not dealing with what happened to us,” Sam shoots back, her voice relatively calm. “Have you even gone to see the counselor once?”

“No, I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

I sigh and share at look with Chad and Mindy who seem to be hating this just as much as me, if not even more because it sounds like this isn’t the first time the two sisters have been at each other’s throats.

Anika and Ethan just look uncomfortable and if it weren’t for the fight I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look, what with Ethan wearing Anika’s pumpkin hat and Anika wearing Ethan’s ridiculous cardboard helmet that matches his handcrafted chest plate.

“Hey, guys, come on,” Chad tries to step in at one point when Tara accuses Sam of living in the past, but he’s straight up ignored and I shoot him a pitiful look when our eyes meet.

They continue bickering, and even though I agree with Tara that we shouldn’t let something that happened to us for three days define the rest of our lives, I don’t like how she puts Sam on the spot in front of everyone by asking why she’s in New York with the rest of them.

After what feels like hours, they finally stop which is when, out of nowhere, a girl walking by yells, “Murderer!” and throws her drink at Sam.

Sam recoils and chaos erupts. There’s shouting and cursing, and a bunch of accusations thrown at Sam about God knows what, and I’m barely fast enough to rush forward and wrap my arms around her stomach from behind to prevent her from lunging at the girl who threw her drink at her.

Everything is over in a blur and before we know it the grill and her friends have left and the people who stopped and stood around to watch are moving on as though nothing happened.

I let go of Sam as soon as I’m sure she won’t do anything reckless again and step back, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Chad is also holding back Tara.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, but no one answers and Sam even looks away as though she’s ashamed of something.

“Let’s just go.” Tara sighs and turns to leave, grabbing Anika’s and Chad’s arm.

Mindy frowns but agrees and is quick to follow them, leaving Ethan behind with me and Sam, who is currently trying to wring out her shirt.

“Hey, I. . . I have tissues if you want tissues,” Ethan offers kindly, pulling some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Sam.

She wordlessly takes them and Ethan awkwardly looks between the two of us for a moment, obviously not knowing what else to do before hurrying after the others.

What an odd kid.

Sam dabs at her neck and hair where most of the drink hit her and she’s about to brush past me to follow the others as well, but I step in front of her and gently touch her forearm.

“Wait.”

Defeated brown eyes find mine, and the way she deflates when looking at me breaks my heart.

I have no idea what that girl and her friends meant when they called her a murderer and when they said she “knows what she did”, but now’s not the time to ask about it.

I take the used tissues from Sam and momentarily stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans so I have my hands free to unzip and take off my hoodie.

“Here, take this.” I hold it out to Sam, who simply eyes it with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and put this on. I know how you hate it when clothes stick to you.” I wiggled the hoodie a little and raise an eyebrow until she sighs and takes it.

When we were kids I found out how she hates wearing wet clothes after pushing her into our pool after school once.

She wasn’t mad at first because it was summer and we both really needed to cool off, but then she got out of the water and her mood immediately turned sour.

She never explained why, but I knew it was because of her clothes clinging to her, so I never pushed her into the water again unless she was wearing a bikini or swimsuit.

“Thank you.” Sam’s small voice brings me back to reality and when I look up again I see she’s already changed into my hoodie. Her shirt is clutched between her fingers to the point where her knuckles are turning white, but I don’t comment on it.

She’s humiliated, sad, angry, and embarrassed, so all I say is, “You’re welcome,” before gesturing for her to lead the way and follow the others.

She lowers her chin in silent thanks again and starts walking, and I follow her after quickly darting over to one of the nearby trash cans and disposing of the tissues.

What a night. . . Maybe I should have stayed at Liam’s and watched some TV.

_______________________________________________

We’re in New York, people! And Ghostface is right around the corner. . .

Poor Sam, getting a drink thrown on her, but the way she clapped back at reader on their way to the party? Damn. . .

And Tara hasn’t even acknowledged reader yet hahah but it’s okay, they’ll talk in the next part.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[earlycuntsets]

interview with frank, mikey and bob with mychemicalromanceforum.com 2006

interview was linked on the 2006 mcr website news (home) page

"The big forum interview with My Chemical Romance!

Reporters: Imre (poison amy) and Lisette (Lica) Bandmembers: Frank, Bob and Mikey Place: The Melkweg (Milkyway), Amsterdam, the Netherlands Date: Wednesday August 31st, 2005, 3.30pm

After a lot of stress and the prospect that the interview might be cancelled, it was finally time to go upstairs and meet the band. Two hours later than scheduled, but hey, they were there so we’re not complaining! Our palms were sweaty and our hearts were racing, but we managed to remain calm and behave like proper journalists instead of squealing fangirls.

L: Let’s start with our list! We’re already talking about messageboards so lets continue on that. Some people sometimes claim to be one of you when they are on forums or other websites, what do you think of that?F: I don’t understand it really, to me it’s kind of like that game the Sims, they’re spending so much time leading this fake life while they could be doing their own thing, and if your dream is to be in a band you should go out and practise instead of playing a video game or pretend you’re somebody else. It gets really creepy when those people do that and put out pictures of you and say a loved one or your dog. When they do that and then talk to other people on your behalf, that really angers me because we don’t know what they’re saying to other people and they might give advise and others might believe it. Internet can be a great thing, but it can also be a really evil thing. I: We have a rule against talking about your private life. F: Thank you. I appreciate that.Mikey: That’s a big problem with MySpace, because some of my friends actually are on MySpace and they get messages, I don’t know how they knew that my friends are on there, but these are people that aren’t even in bands and they would get messages from ‘me’ on MySpace. It’s really weird. I: They know everything. Trust me. Bob: That’s ridiculous. F: I’m still a huge fan of music, but when I was a fan of a band I would never ever be that intrusive. You know what I mean, to go as far as walk on someone’s bus and sit down and go through someone’s things, or try to steal something… I: There was one girl last week, she was at one of the shows in London and she was proud that she ripped something off your arm! F: [sad tone] Yeah, yeah… I: She was bragging about it all over the internet. F: I know… L: How do you feel about these things? F: You know, it’s weird. *thinks* I don’t know how I feel about that. I definitely know that when I was at shows I would bring a souvenir home, but it wasn’t someone’s personal property, it was a flyer or something like that. It’s weird if you wanna go into the crowd thinking ‘am I gonna come out with everything?’ L: Are you nervous when you see a large crowd? Are you worried then? F: No! Well, no, I mean, it depends. There’s a bunch of different type of fans. You know, there’s people who just wanna say I love you, love your show, and that’s awesome. They respect the music and the art form. And then there’s some people that need to have that souvenir, that need a signature or a picture and there’s some that just scream and try to pull your hair out and that’s ridiculous and then there’s the drunk fan that wants to be the one that punched you. Unfortunately for the people that just wanna say hi or the people that just want an autograph, sometimes they get flooded because the bad apples are so loud or with so many. It sucks to make people wait outside for hours before you leave because I don’t wanna weed out the bullshit, you know what I mean, the teenie ‘oh wow the new N’Sync is an actual band’ you know that’s a terrible thing, but you try to do more good than bad.

L: How was it for you Bob, when you joined the band they were already on their way to become very successful, how was it for you to step into a band that was already on their way? Bob: When I first started it wasn’t really sure that… Well, I don’t think anybody thought that it was gonna be this successful. When I first started it was still in the van, playing shows for like a hundred people. It wasn’t like this when I first started. As far as the kids being crazy, obviously they *nods towards Frank and Mikey* get it a lot more, but it’s just strange for me. L: Well, you’re completely accepted on the forum, everybody loves Bob, they have it in their signatures. *grins* F: How could you not love Bob?!

I: When you started out, did you ever imagine being nominated for 4 VMA’s against Green Day?F: No, not at all! I: How crazy is that?! F: Pfff! It’s flattering.M: It was a great experience. The whole thing.F: I’m still reeling from it. I’m really glad it’s over. I: Were you nervous? F: Oh god, yeah. I definitely threw up before.M: You can see me biting my nails on camera. Every time they were showing Jamie Fox you can see me right behind him biting my nails a lot. I was really freaked out.F: It’s one of those things where.. Growing up I didn’t get to watch them all the time, but I saw bands like Nirvana play it and Guns’n’Roses. So just to be there and think of all the things that happened on that show and to actually play it, it was ridiculous. I: Because of the MTV awards you had to do the two festivals in England on the same day, how was that? Were you nervous doing those shows? B: It was tiring really. F: It was very tiring, yeah. And again, we kept like thinking of people that played it before. You know what I mean. I’m definitely keeping the two passes and I’m gonna frame them. It was rad. To do Reading and Leeds and especially on the same day, it was crazy! B: We were supposed to fly to Leeds and we couldn’t get on a bus and go to Reading, because we wouldn’t have enough time to set up, so we were supposed to take three helicopters and I was so psyched about that! I was so excited! It would have been so awesome to fly on a helicopter! But then something happened with the weather at Reading and they wouldn’t let the helicopters get that close to so many people, so we just took a plane. L: So the helicopter experience still has to take place. B: Yeah. We’re gonna do it one of these days. I don’t care, even if it’s on a day off, we’re taking a helicopter ride! L: Are you a thrill seeker? B: I … *thinks* Kind of. I guess so. F: As long as it’s got something to do with helicopters or motorcycles or black vans, that kind of stuff. I: You wouldn’t go horseriding on the beach. F: *laughs* I don’t think he’s that horseriding-on-the-beach type of guy. B: No. I wanna go skydiving one of these days. F: I’m not!!! I: Why not? F: If you’d asked me a couple of years ago to do it, I’d go ‘yeah, fuck it!’ but now I’m just too happy. You know what I mean? I: You don’t need that. F: Yeah! I don’t need to do that.

Then suddenly Bob exclaims: What is wrong with these people?! *reads from book* What would happen if you saw Mikey walk into the bathroom with another toaster? Signed: Bob Bryar’s official bitch.M: It wasn’t a toaster, it was a heater. I was putting a space heater in the bathroom when I was sick or something. I brought this heater into the shower so it was warm when I got out. It’s not the smartest thing in the world to do, but I was like ‘whatever, I’m fucking freezing’, but apparently they turned it into a toaster.. L: But you were fine. M: Yeah, I’m here right now. *all laugh*

L: For the video from The Ghost of You, you guys have your hair really smooth. We understand how you get your hair like that, but we were wondering how did they get Ray’s hair totally smooth? How much stuff did they put in there?F: You’ll see it on the making of the video, he has like these two little buns. B: Did they flat iron his hair too? F: They did something. It was all flattened out. It was all bundled together in this little fist of a bulb, so they could only shoot him from the front and part of the side. It was crazy. He was gonna cut his hair and we were all like ‘no don’t do that!!’. I: Did he ever tried to hide objects in his hair? To smuggle them inside? F: Hide objects in it? He might. B: *thinks* I don’t think so. *All giggle*

I: Another question they asked is: if your tourbus driver got ill, who would you trust to drive it?F: Bob. I: Yeah? Why? F: Cos he’s done it before. B: It happens a lot when you have to move a bus. When I used to tour with other bands, our drivers would just be like ‘hey, you wanna drive?’ and then I’d drive for like 1000 miles. L: It’s cool to drive something that big, isn’t it. B: Yeah, I like to drive and being on tour you never get to drive anywhere. If you’re not in a bus you’re in a cab or if you’re not in a cab you have somebody else driving you, so you know I take every opportunity I get to drive.

L: If you could describe your life so far in 5 words, what words would you choose?M: Tiring, wonderful…F: Surprising, uhm, definitely tiring… B: Red Bull. I: Hey, that’s two words! B: Oh sorry! *laughs* F: Coffee. B: There you go, coffee. Fun! (All at the same time) Proud. F: Prun! *grins*M: Yeah. B: How about proud-fun? I: We’ll make that a new forum-word! B: Prun.

I: Have you ever read any of the fanfictions people write about you? *guys laugh* M: My friends sent me one once. It was creepy! My friends are interested in all that stuff, so they all sit online and send it to each other and laugh. And then one of them emailed one to me and it was something really fucking out of hand.F: I heard Mikey’s hot for me. I: The hottest couple is you and Gerard actually. F: Oh really? We’re the hottest couple? B: That’s amazing. I: That’s actually one of the most active parts of the forum, the fanfiction section. F: Wow! That’s crazy. My god… (kind of unsure) Well, if that’s what gets you hot, go for it.

L: Do you have something with you when you go out on stage, like a lucky thing? B: High fives. F: Yeah we do, like high fives before we go on stage. I don’t think there’s any charm I have.. I think it changes like I’ll have something for a time that I feel is lucky, but then it’ll probably break or something and you get something new… Like these shoes *everyone looks at Frank’s feet* are lucky I think. None of it’s really lucky at all of course. *thinks* I have these dogtags that I wear a lot, but I can’t wear them on stage because it hurts my neck. I: Yeah and someone might steal them! F: Yeah that’s it, but I wear them all the time, except when I’m playing.

L: Yeah, you go crazy on stage and sometimes you’re lying on the floor, how are you able to play like that?F: You get used to it, like with anything. When we’re playing a new song, like right now we’re playing a new song. Well, not new new, but new for us because we haven’t played it in so long, so ah, we’ll play eh *looks at Bob* should we tell them? *Bob nods* Alright, we’re playing Jetset tonight and I’m not used to playing that song, so I’ll just stand there and make sure I hit every chord. L: So you’re not going crazy. F: *laughs* No, but you know what I mean like it’s hard because I get into it and I would do it, but at the same time if it’s so new I can’t. Once I’m comfortable with it I can do whatever I want. I: Is there a favourite song when you play? All: Prison! F: Yeah, Prison is like a band favourite. B: Yeah we like to play that. It’s become the song that when we need to play something for a soundcheck we pick that. I really like playing Jetset too though. I: Why didn’t you put it in the set before? F: We’ve never played certain songs, I mean like never ever played them. I think Jetset was one of those until we were like ‘yeah lets finally get this out’. We had about five songs to pick from for the headline tour, some older stuff that we haven’t played in a really long time and there’s this song called Cubicles that we’ve never played. I think you guys played it (to Mikey)…M: Yeah we’ve played it on a couple of shows.F: But I’ve never actually played it. I: It must be nice to do a different set. F: Yeah! You know it’s fun to be doing something that you haven’t played in a really long time because it puts a spin on things and it kind of challenges you.

L: Most places have a very active local music scene, do you ever go to a band of the local music scene when you’re in a city?F: I would love to if we had a second off, but we never do.L: And back home in New Jersey, do you go there to local shows? F: Yeah, if we’re home for a while and there’s a show going on, I’ll go see it. But it’s hard because we do this for a living and I mean we love what we do and we love music, but sometimes the last thing we wanna do is go to a show. It has to be a really good show, you know what I mean. I: Yah, but it must also be part of your job to keep up to date about new bands. F: Yeah, well we tour so much and we hear so many things from different people, I mean I found out about a lot of different bands from just kids. It kind of keeps you in your favourite scene, you know. And we get demos all the time.

I: A few weeks ago I interviewed the singer from HIM, Ville, and he told me he had been talking to you guys about maybe touring together.F: That would be cool. Yeah. He’s a great guy. He’s really nice. I: I know! *grins* F: I think that would rule. To me, HIM are kind of like the European Bon Jovi. That’s what I get when I listen to them.

Sadly the girl from the record company interrupted us by saying it was nearly time and we could ask one last question. Lica asked it. L: About the second I’m Not Okay video; it starts off with Ray and Gerard sitting there and Gerard says: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna… What does he wanna do? F: Ok, the original line was: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna rock! And we didn’t like it. If you keep an open end you can make it whatever you want it to be, you know. The rest of that, the whole opening scene, was written out. It was scripted and we were like ‘this isn’t really working’ so Ray actually re-wrote everything. Everything you hear in the video, other then ‘I just wanna’ is something that Ray wrote maybe ten minutes before we shot it!

Then the girl from the record company came back inside to tell us we really needed to wrap it up and Frank practically begged her to do two more from the book, like he suggested when we started out. Bob flips through the book. B: Bam! *points* All time favourite sad song? M: the Smiths – Asleep. That’s the fucking saddest song ever. B: That Jimmy Eat World song off of that show.. F: Angel song? B: Yeah. F: Oh yeah. Ah, geez, Angel Angel. Oh, right, ready? *flips through book again* F: When you guys stop and think about how you ended up where you are now, do you feel really lucky and jump for joy, or do you don’t give a damn at all? *laughs* I think we are the luckiest people in the whole fucking world. B: We’re very proud of ourselves! F: To be able to say that, you know, you’ve accomplished goals, that you set for yourself so long ago and this is awesome you know, like to be on tv or on the radio – fuck the radio and tv! To hear kids in different countries or different states sing along to songs that you wrote in your basement is the most surreal experience that you’ll ever have. And to have it mean something to people you never thought you would ever meet. That right there is the most amazing thing.

We had a minute to go on a picture with them and say goodbye. Frank told us that he really appreciated what we are doing for the band and thanked us for everything by giving us both a very tight hug. As you can probably imagine, we high on adrenaline for the rest of the day. The guys were lovely and very happy to see that all of you had posted so many questions for them. Thank you forum members, and thanks My Chemical Romance for making this all happen!

Second group pictureSaying goodbye and packing our stuffLast minute chattingFrank telling us how much he appreciate the work we're doing on here"

interview with frank, mikey and bob with mychemicalromanceforum.com 2006

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,639

Pairing: Best friend! Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: swearing, arguments, Noah is bad at feelings and so is Y/N

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

Thanks @alwaysfightforwhoyouare for the idea, and sorry it took me so long to actually write since we were talking about this before New Years lmao.

Extra inspo:

NOAH POV

She was beautiful.

I found myself stealing glances at her whenever I could. It was impossible not to. Even when I didn’t intend to, my eyes always found her.

No matter what room I walked into, I always sought her out.

Her laugher. Her smile. Her eyes. Her.

Y/N had been my best friend, besides Nicholas of course, for as long as I could remember. Granted, we only met when we had moved to California, but we clicked instantly.

Two peas in a pod. Partners in crime. Ride or die.

That was us.

But I was desperate for more.

I wanted to hold her hand. Hold her. Kiss her. Tell I loved her. Take her to bed. Be with her.

But it could never happen. She had a boyfriend and I was just her best friend. She would never see me as anything more than that.

I buried those feelings as deep as I possibly could. I dated and saw other people as often as I could to try and move on, but nothing worked. No matter who I went out with, my mind was always stuck on Y/N.

Every time I saw her with Chris, my heart broke a little bit more. I knew this was unfair, since she had no idea how I felt about her and it wasn’t her fault she was happy with someone else, but part of me resented her for being happy with someone else.

What could he give her that I couldn’t?

I knew every single detail about her. I could even tell you how many freckles decorated her face if you asked me to.

But it wasn’t enough.

She had him, and I had Bad Omens.

“Y/N and Chris are fighting again.” Matt sighed, taking his seat in the studio.

They had been fighting a lot recently. He had been going out more often with his friends, leaving Y/N at home. She hated being alone.

“Same thing again?” Jolly asked.

“Yep.” Matt sighed again.

Silence encased the studio. None of us particularly liked Chris, some for more selfish reasons than others, but none of us wanted to stop Y/N from being happy.

“I’ve got some lyrics that I’ve been working on.” I spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Can we have a look?” Jolly asked, so I handed him my highly precious notebook that I used for songwriting.

His eyes darted over the pages. if he knew what the song was about, he didn’t let on anything.

“This is good shit, Noah.” He said, smiling genuinely.

I had been working on the song for a while now, but I never had the courage to show anyone else the song yet.

It was by far my favourite song that I had ever written.

“Do you think it would be okay for the new record?” I asked, chewing the skin on my thumb anxiously.

“I think it’s perfect for the new record dude.” Jolly said, grinning widely.

“Great.” I said with a sigh of relief.

We spent most of the day recording the new song, working in silence for the most part as we seemed to be working in unison, as one.

The lyrics flew out of me so easily, it was like breathing.

Verse after verse, the melody came naturally.

It didn’t matter if anyone knew what the song was about, as long as she got to hear it.

Y/N POV

Chris and I never had a great relationship.

It wasn’t toxic or anything, we just didn’t love eachother, but were determined to make it work.

The honeymoon phase was relatively short, only lasting the first two months of our relationship.

Out fights consisted of the same common denominators every single time. His partying and my friendship with Noah.

Chris hated Noah with a burning passion. In fact, Chris was convinced that Noah was in love with me, which would be impossible because how could someone like Noah be in love with someone like me?

Noah was a genuine, kind soul, and I was often labelled a vindictive bitch.

He would have to be desperate for human connection if he fell in love with me.

“Seriously, I don’t understand why you’re friends with him, Y/N, he clearly just wants to get in your pants.” Chris sighed, exasperated at my apparent obliviousness to Noah’s alleged feelings for me.

“Because he’s my best friend, and no, he doesn’t want to get in my pants. I think I’d know if he did.” I replied, sick of this argument going round in circles.

“Y/N, please listen to me. He isn’t your friend. He just wants to use you to get off. He likes the power he has over you.” Chris argued back, raising his voice.

“Stop lying about it, I’m not going to believe you.” I yelled. “This is so fucking dumb, Chris, all we ever do is go around in circles until we either get bored of the argument and go cool off somewhere or we just end up fucking!”

“Who’s fault is it that we keep running in circles like this?” Chris snarled. “You’re the one who is still hanging around that jackass.”

“Oh my god! When will you realise that Noah is not the problem here, you are!” I yelled.

“Then how about I leave and make your life easier?” Chris shouted.

“Good! Get the fuck out of my house!” I yelled in reply, gesturing towards the door.

He simply turned around and left. Just like that.

The silence that filled the house wasn’t unpleasant like I thought it would be, but instead it was peaceful and I welcomed it with open arms.

Finally, I had enough space to think. To breathe. To exist without him screaming down my ear about Noah, and without me interrogating him about him going out with his friends into the very early hours of the morning.

But after a few hours of this new silence, the house became almost too silent. Too cold. Too big.

I needed the space to be smaller again.

With my mind in autopilot, I found myself climbing into the drivers side of my car and driving over to Noah’s house, desperate for comfort and some semblance of crowdedness.

Noah’s front door opened before you had even rung the bell.

“Hey, you okay? Matt had us worried about you.” Noah gushed, pulling me into a hug.

“Yeah just wanted to hang out for a bit. It’s too quiet at my place.” I explained with a shrug.

“Is Chris out again?”  Noah asked as we walked into his house.

“Oh, we broke up like two hours ago.” I said with a laugh, but I couldn’t tell if it was a fake laugh or not.

“Shit are you okay?” Noah asked, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“Yeah. I mean I think so.” I said with a shrug.

“Y/N, you’re crying.” Noah whispered, his voice significantly more gentle than it had been previously as he cupped my cheek and wiped a stray tear away from my face.

“No, really I’m okay.” I said, unsure as to why I was crying.

“Come here.” Noah whispered, pulling me into a tight hug.

I wasn’t sure what it was about hugging Noah made me feel so emotional, but I couldn’t control the damn that burst, letting all of my pent up frustrations at Chris gush out.

The more I cried, the clearer the real reason for my tears became. I was in love with Noah.

NOAH POV

I gently rubbed Y/N’s back as I held her close to my chest, hoping to ease her pain as much as I could.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.” I whispered, guiding her into the studio before sitting her down on the small sofa we had in there for moments like these.

She curled up in her usual spot with her knees pulled up to her chest.

I switched on the computer monitor and selected the audio file that I wanted.

Besides the purple LED lights, that were Y/N’s favourite, the monitor was the only thing that illuminated the otherwise empty room.

The soft melody of the acoustic demo that we had recorded earlier that morning filled the air as I sat next to Y/N on the sofa and pulling her into my arms. She instantly snuggled closer into my chest as if she were hiding from something and was seeking comfort.

She was my safe space and I was hers.

The lyrics began to take over the melody as I rocked Y/N back and forth in my arms.

There are scars that never ever show themselves

You get when you’re left alone too long in Hell

I was sick and tired of leaving Y/N to live her life without me by her side. I was desperate to be able to call her mine. To hold her hand as we walked to our favourite coffee shop. To kiss her cheek and tell her she looked beautiful as she got ready to go out. To be able to hold her as we drifted off to sleep in our bed.

I was desperate for HER.

I began to sing the lyrics to her, causing her to look up into my eyes as I looked down into hers.

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

“Noah.” She murmured.

“Yes, Y/N.” I whispered in reply.

“I love you.” She whispered.

I answered her by leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Just enough to tell her exactly how I felt.

“Yours?” She asked after we pulled away.

“Mine.” I replied with a smile.

“Forever?”

“Yes, Y/N, mine forever.”

And if you're there to catch me when I fall Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

[just-hyde]

AI is theft.

Character.Ai still uses **stolen** data. Support real artists and writers. RP with real people.

IAMREALpleasegimmeahotchocotugmeinandgimmeasinglegoodreasontoliiiveeeeaaaaAAAAAAA

*Breakdown joins the chat*

An anon? How courageous of you. /lh

Actually right now you did what many chatbot users do— hide behind Persona just in case people don't accept your writing/rp style. But it's easier to play safe, I give you that. Your mental health should be your first priority no matter what people say

I do my art, write snippets of text, develop OCs and RP with people, but still make chatbots on different platforms

Why?

For shits and giggles

But no, friends, seriously

We already live with that and apparently are gonna continue to, unless the authorities decide to step in

For me cai was a tool to improve my vocabulary since 1) not so many native speakers were willing/had time to help, 2) even if they did, we had jobs and damn timezones which made our coordination harder, 3) I found out that ppl were simply too shy to play

Recently I've learned the term "Cringe culture" which is cringe itself and hella annoying at that— some writers are fucking scared to post, to be met with toxicity instead of actually useful critique

Anywho, the topic is controversial af.

On one hand, it did writers dirty. Well, fuck. On the other hand, your T9 was also trained on something and I deem LLM no much smarter than a huge T9 [a predictive text technology which almost every keyboard for phones and tablets has]

The problem I see is that the ai developers didn't ask for any data

How much easier everything would go if they had manners and/or paid for some materials? I usually don't mind lending a pen if someone asks, but can bite one's hand off if they grab it

As you might've noticed, I wanna use this ask to bring up some other interesting topics

My man, I've heard enough of "Why trying if ai renders better than me/uses better words"

Anxiety.

That's what makes me sad

If we ever manage to change that, to make people realise that human-made art is a freaking precious treasure with hours of effort spent on it, maybe earth heals and unicorns return

You buy funny one-nickel-worth stuff from Aliexpress, no? That's AI. As well as a half-gnawled pencil one finds in their old school backpack to write down an anecdote they've just heard

It's easy to focus on the bad side

If fish is ill in a dirty tank, are you gonna add more sand? Pfftt. I assume you gonna change filters, scrub that bastard clean and add more lil fishies to make others feel less lonely, instead of rumbling that you shouldn't have gotten any new weeds for the the bowl in the first place, because, who would've guessed, fish eat that. And poop. —a process natural as breathing

My suggestion is that we try to create a safe space which would encourage writing outside of roleplay, make young artists feel safe regardless of their level of skill

Or maybe I'm too far from the Internet in general and don't understand why writing example messages for a silly toy is suddenly a bad thing when it encourages kids to try themselves in text RPGs without any risk of being judged for that

An interesting topic you gave me, really, I've spent some time contemplating about it

Feel free to suggest things that we, as a community, can do right here and right now, because, gods know, I'm personally unable to atta-ta a corporation for "using language we all speak", especially when chatbots have some features which would be a damn shame not to use in language learning since it's so engaging and teaches kids new words in a forgiving game-like way

Though I hope there will be some law regulating ai and the use of ai-made products soon. Let's give it some time

[notbecauseofvictories]

ooh, could you tell us more about your au where the whole silt gang ends up at the grace?

It's less "an AU" and more "excitable blathering in @nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour's direction" but sure!

The inciting incident is fairly straightforward: Faulkner runs off to the Grace for plot-related reasons. Maybe the rout from Greve had long-reaching effects; maybe the new temple he sent Rane to build collapses in on itself; maybe he's just out of options, out of friends, and he can't go home to that empty place in the wastes. He has no one to protect him but the maybe-sort-of sister he very definitely turned his back on, who will let him in only with a small encyclopedia of caveats and a promise not to hurt her non-negotiable business associates.

The non-negotiable business associates in question (Paige, still mostly drunk; Hayward, running from his past fast enough to set records) are a little wary, but. Carpenter asked. There's not much they won't do if she asks.

And hey, maybe Rane sidles in along with him. The only one who calls him "Katabasian Faulkner"---at least, until Carpenter shuts that one down, hard. He's at the Grace on her sufferance, so he's assigned to something that will bring him into contact with the fewest people. Maybe chicken duty? It gives him lots of time for sulking.

This would be an incredibly fun setting for multiple reasons:

First, I wish we'd gotten more time at the Grace. I personally love intracommunity squabbling, especially when backed by theological/philosophical differences, and I wanted so, so much more time with "The Rootkeeper" and "The Widow" and also everybody's arguing about inerrancy and also somehow Carpenter is there.

I mean, really, it was fascinating the way that Hayward and Carpenter seemed to bloom---he had opinions on theological whitepapers, she grabbed terrible beers with Elgin, they both were chairing meetings and coming up with chore rotas...

Not to mention, more time at the Grace would mean that Paige didn't have to recover---she could have been struggling with alcoholism and the god inside her, even as she tried very hard to do what she could for the community she was building. We could have had scenes where Elgin is very pointedly not mentioning the bottle on the table; or where Paige is still tipsy but clearly trying to focus, etc.

Similarly, we could have had cheerful, slightly in denial Hayward, who just…spends too long in the restroom sometimes, emerges with scrubbed-red hands; conversations where he says, "On the force---" before going pale, stopping and abruptly changing the subject.

And Faulkner could have sulked. He could have sulked so much. He could have tried to talk to Dan, and found him unbearable in a direction that does not jive with Faulkner's at all; he could have tried to talk to Carpenter about "our river" only to get mercilessly told to shut up, he doesn't even know what he's talking about. He could have tried to talk to Paige, and found her a good listener until a couple swigs of home-brewed vodka in, at which point she starts composing lengthy, lovely speeches that make Faulkner uneasy and more than a little self-conscious, jealous.

Hayward has taken an earnest interest, like an uncle! (this is exactly how Hayward puts it.) Nothing makes Faulkner more uncomfortable.

(I do get a kick out of imagining Hayward being earnest in Faulkner's direction, and Faulkner being the only one not won over by Hayward; when Faulkner asks, even Carpenter will just say something like "Oh, that bastard? He's all right," and shrug a little, embarrassed by all the emotion. It drives Faulkner crazy.)

I also really love the idea that Hayward is the one to point out that Rane is absolutely dtf for Faulkner. He makes an offhanded comment with just enough of a wink and a nudge to make his meaning plain (he's not trying to be embarrassing, he's just trying to take an interest!) And then the weight of all of Rane's little gestures hit Faulkner like a ton of bricks.

I like to imagine that Faulkner tries to punch Hayward. Mostly because I love the image of Hayward holding an ice-pack to his nose and muttering, "What's his problem anyway?" while Carpenter and Paige lock eyes over his head and wordlessly agree to never, ever answer that question.

Anyway, I have lost the point.

Shrue and Val are a bit harder to arrange, but I think you could still send Hayward and Carpenter on their roadtrip to recruit Shrue---just have Faulkner stay behind with Paige, and have him be the way to keep the Grace more present in the story; to work with not just Paige's drunkenness but also the Woundtree, which grows stronger every day, and remains stubbornly something Faulkner cannot fix, write off, or control.

(That was always Faulkner's downfall, I think; he didn't understand that he was sticking his fingers in the tiger's cage until it swallowed him.)

(Also, it lets us focus more on Paige and her devolution, or rocky path forward, rather than "solving" her crises off-screen.)

This means that, after their radio broadcast about "Kill your gods!" Shrue---who was, up until just then, a besuited politician in the capitol---finds themselves taking Carpenter and Hayward's hands and fleeing to a dusty, dirty patch of land that might graciously be called a farm. Shrue is not especially happy about this, but hey, they get a little square of dirt and when they talk about rhetoric, the young people listen.

.......then one day, a bleeding, bruised and almost dead "god" shows up. Literally no one is happy to see her. She decides to stay.

[projectjasper]

Pond and Phuwin talking about their friendship in an interview with Praew Magazine

[TRANS. CREDIT]

Interviewer: How have you felt during the time you have been working together as partners?

Phuwin: If we really count, it's been exactly four years. In terms of work, I feel that there are many more things that both of us can still do and improve on. But in terms of our relationship, we've come a long way. We started at 0 and now we are at 90+. I've never thought I'd have such an important relationship in my life.

Pond: It's really great. It's a journey I'm very happy with. Now that I said it, I feel shy... I don't want to say too much, or people will accuse me of fanservice, but I'm telling the truth. Because when we just started working together, the word "friendship" wasn't exactly right. But as we worked together more and more, there was a point when we decided we should try to do something that doesn't involve work. And that's when we became friends.

Phuwin: Our relationship is both like that of colleagues and friends. And I feel like both of these aspects developed a lot, until Pond became a really important person in my life.

Interviewer: What do you think made you guys so close?

Pond: At first, we were very different. Not so different that we couldn't get along, but we had different lifestyles. We grew up differently. When we got to know each other more, we felt like we got to know each other's true selves and how we can fit together. It felt right.

Phuwin: I think another common point is that we are getting older, we are growing up. We have more responsibilities, whether it's work, family, or other things. And there are a lot of similarities there. It makes us feel like we've found someone, who is by our side through all this, and it's another thing that made us feel comfortable with each other.

Interviewer: What impresses you the most about the other person?

Pond: Many things. If this was before, I would have said I was impressed by his dedication to work. But now that we have spent more time together, went out to eat together, just did things together that didn't involve work, I feel like we respect each other and care for each other, which is what's important and what keeps us together. It's all about understanding. There is no competition in terms of who is better. We grow together

Phuwin: Something special about Pond that I have not found in anyone else is that he can say something and make me feel fuzzy on the inside. He gives compliments in this very sweet but sincere way. Usually when someone compliments you, you think there must be something behind it for sure. But when Pond compliments someone, it's in earnest. When hearing that, I'm not sure what to do...

Pond: Hey, thank you wa~

Phuwin: There was this one time we were talking on the phone and Pond said: "I'm shy, but I feel like I have to say this..." So I replied: "Hmm... I feel fuzzy listening to that. I don't know what to say, but thank you very much."

Pond: We don't compliment each other often. When there is a chance to do it, let's do it. We've spent this much time together. But I'm feeling really shy....

Interviewer: In that case, let's take the opportunity this New Year's and give each other a compliment or say something to one another.

Pond: Really? When I say this to media, I feel shy. If you get goosebumps, don't take offence. But what I'm going to say is the truth.

Phuwin: Because what we both really care about is not wanting to do anything that seems like fanservice. We don't want to say anything that's not true.

Pond: We feel like being natural is best. This is true. We've known each other since before I was even 20 years old. As we are growing up, we are focusing more on the people around us. Like I said, as I moved away from the word "co-worker" with Phuwin, we really became friends: going out to eat, hanging out together, not forcing each other to do anything, just doing what comes naturally. I'm really happy about it.

Phuwin: Exactly. Pond is a good person. And in the past four years, he has become even better. It turned out that, as we were hanging out, we were picking up each other's habits. He did something and I thought: "Eh... this looks familiar. I do this too." It's like we're learning from each other and becoming better by borrowing good traits from one another.

Pond: Yes, I can say that he is one of the reasons why I've become a better person. He is great at his job and has a very high sense of responsibility. He is a good example. Watching him makes me want to push myself to become better, to be on the same level with him.

Phuwin: Pond is the same. He has a great mindset, he thinks positively, and he sees things from the bright side. Sometimes I look at the bigger picture and see the negative side, but Pond helps me see the positives.

Pond: I feel like we are partners, not just an on-screen CP. I remember when I was a kid, there was a time when my family was having financial problems. But after I acted in a series with Phuwin and it was successful, I could solve all those problems. If we didn't have each other, we wouldn't be where we are today. And we have to continue our journey together.

Phuwin: Do you understand why I get goosebumps now?

[discoreptile]

As of yet unnamed game card art!

[euclydya]

... if you. are a mutual of ours. and you use. simply plural. you can. add us. if you want. just. send an ask. and we'll. give you our username.

[nexus-nebulae]

every time im in front i can just Feel like pretty much Everybody else in-sys just staring at me like prairie dogs ready to be alerted to any sign of anxiety

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

I've been added to a discord server and I fear they dislike me.

They talked about weed and I essentially bragged that I took a personal stance against it. Nobody has talked since.

I'm truly the life of the party 🤷🏻‍♀️

[bladeofthestars]

.

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.