#finding the ghost town in the demo was A Feeling. realizing what happened was like having my house burned down. wow.

[99999-damage]

dramatic line reading of “i’ve had countless sex with women. to spread the dark god genes”

[imaginedisish]

Devil’s Advocate (Tenet) Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: I’ll Try Anything Once

A/N: Hi guys! So this sort of feels like a filler chapter, but I hope you still all enjoy it :) And ps...this chapter is based on I’ll Try Anything Once by Julian Casablancas (it’s derived from one of the Strokes’ demos I think)

Summary: You and Neil land in London to some majorly unfortunate circumstances that are too overwhelming for you to handle, but Neil is done letting you get hurt. 

Warnings: Death, guns, gunshot wounds, explosions, violence/murder (implied more or less), cursing, minor angst maybe, and yay fluff!

Word Count: 4,191

“Hey,” A voice whispers softly; the familiar sound encourages you to lift your eyelids. “(Y/N), we’re about to land,” The voice whispers again as you feel yourself slowly rocking back and forth. You groggily open your eyes. 

The cabin of the plane is dark except for a few scattered overhead reading lights. You notice that your head is still resting against Neil’s chest as his warm hold envelopes you, keeping you pressed tightly against him. A tickle twitches in your stomach as you feel the plane drop down closer to the ground. The tickle quickly turns to terror as you remember where you’re headed. You feel your heart rapidly beat in your chest. You take a deep breath, hoping to suppress your paralyzing fears of being back out in the field. 

Neil’s calming voice grounds you. “Are you alright?” He asks, his arms tightening around you. The airplane drops some more, causing the tickle in your stomach to continue. 

“I’m not sure,” You respond honestly as you try and swallow your fear in your throat. Of course, it doesn’t work. The airplane drops again, and you pull slightly away from Neil to look out the window. Lights twinkle below you, and you can see Heathrow Airport in the near distance. 

The seat creaks a bit as Neil moves closer to you. His cheek brushes up against yours as he peers out the window. His closeness was comforting. 

Neil sighs. “I know you don’t want to be here, (Y/N),” Neil says as his right arm wraps around your shoulders again, stealing your attention away from the lights of the towns below.  “But it’s going to be okay. We’ll get in, get what we need, get rid of who we don’t, and get out.” He shoots a smirk in your direction.

The plane grows even closer to the ground but the tickles disappear, and nausea fills your stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick,” You complain. Anxiety courses through your veins, worsening your current state. 

Neil, with his arm still around your shoulders, shakes his head and pulls you away from the window. “You’re not throwing up here,” He says, chuckling a bit. “Or I’ll be doubled over with you.” You find yourself laughing too, but it’s no surprise. That’s simply what Neil does to you. He makes everything seem like it could be…

Okay. 

You were too wrapped up in thoughts of Neil to notice when the wheels of the plane came crashing on the ground. The sound of skid marks screeching against the tarmac gave way for the anxiety to settle back down into your stomach. You shudder, imagining all the things that could go wrong. All the stupid little things that could go horribly, horribly wrong.

You watch as everyone begins to stand up from their seats, walking out into the aisle and grabbing their things from the overhead compartments. Neil gives you a final squeeze before letting go and following suit with the rest of the people on the plane. You look back out the window for a second, contemplating whether or not being in Tenet is worth it at all. There’s so much danger, so much death, so much fear. 

And my own father is the enemy, You think. 

“Are you ready, love?” Neil calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You shrug and stand up from the seat, hunching over ever so slightly as to not smack your head against the ceiling. “I don’t think I’ll ever be, so I might as well just jump without looking, right?” 

Neil smiles sadly, almost as if to apologize. “Then I’ll be ready for you, and I’ll catch you when you fall.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest at his reassurance, despite the sardonic nature of your comment. “Neil I-,” You say, carefully stepping out into the aisle. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Neil starts, seemingly minimizing his ability to change your entire mood. “This is what friends are for.”

Right, friends. 

Neil guides you out of the plane and onto the bridge. After a short walk, you enter the airport. 

It’s a ghost town. Some people are sleeping, slumped over in uncomfortable, stiff chairs waiting for their flight. You had forgotten that the time had changed. You look down at your phone to see that your New York time zone has already been switched to London’s. 

3:56 AM

It only takes a few shuffles out to the main concourse for you to recognize how exhausted you are in spite of your ability to sleep on the plane. After all, that had been the most sleep you had gotten since the…accident. 

You and Neil walk in silence for a while. It isn’t an awkward silence. It’s the comfortable, relaxing kind. It’s the kind of silence shared by two people who don’t need to talk to share how much they enjoy the other’s company. You take in all the shops and food stores as an attempt to keep yourself distracted from the terror of the mission. 

You step onto an escalator, and your attention finally lands on Neil’s face. You had studied it a million times, as odd as that sounds, but you couldn’t help it. You liked looking at him. You liked getting confirmation that he was in fact real and was in fact with you. 

“Hey,” You finally speak up. “Aren’t we in your hometown now?”

You watch as Neil’s cheeks lift and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Yeah,” He says back. “I guess we are.” His eyes rest on yours for a second before they flicker down to your lips. It catches you off guard, but the moment is gone just as soon as it begins as you’re forced to step off the escalator. You enter the baggage claim area and head straight towards the exit of the airport. 

Conveniently waiting outside the doors is a black town car. You look to Neil, making sure it’s the right one. Neil nods, silently confirming that this is a part of the plan. You open the door and plop onto the seat. You hear Neil open and close the trunk before he takes his spot next to you in the car. 

“We live in a twilight world,” Neil says. But there’s no answer. 

You clear your throat nervously, reaching underneath your black, baggy, menswear dress pants, clutching onto the small revolver tied against your calf. “He said, we live in a twilight world.” 

There’s no answer again. You take the revolver out, aiming it at the man. You look over at Neil and notice that his shirt is undone; he had already taken his gun out. He always kept it under his shirt, attached to his chest. He hunches over, slowly moving towards the man through the center console. 

The man’s hat is titled over his forehead. Neil takes it off. 

Neil parts his lips. “Fuck,” His voice is shallow. “He’s dead. He’s got a bullet in the center of his forehead,” There’s a panic in Neil’s voice.  He looks up to the windshield, and you follow his gaze. There’s no point of entry, no shattered glass. 

“So someone else has already been here,” You remark. Neil’s eyes widen as he moves the man’s shirt over a bit. 

That’s when the light beeping noise starts. 

“SHIT!” Neil screams. “Get out of the car! NOW!” He opens the door on your side of the car and practically shoves you out. You stumble, barely able to catch your balance when your feet hit the ground. Neil sprints to the trunk, opening it up and grabbing the luggage. 

You follow behind him, tugging on his arm, trying to pull him away. “The luggage, really?” You shout in disbelief. 

Neil secures both bags in his right hand, and grabs your wrist with his left. You both break out into a sprint. “We need to take cover,” Neil says in between breaths, his eyes frantically searching around the taxi area. “Do you see-,”

BOOM!

“FUCK!” Neil yells, practically tripping over his feet as the concrete vibrates violently below. He catches his balance just before he can face plant into the ground.

The car explodes behind you. The heat of the flames radiate on your back. You don’t dare look behind you; you keep running. 

You and Neil finally reach a parking lot, and stop for a break.

“What the hell was that?” You whisper, angrily grabbing Neil by the collar and bringing him in between two minivans for cover, just in case anyone had followed you or was planning to attack. 

Neil grabs your waist in return, brining you even closer to him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realize how close you are to him. “They must know we’re here,” Neil says. His eyes are still wide and his breathing is still heavy. 

“And the suitcases?” You question with heavy concern, and even frustration, in your voice. “Do you not have firefighters come into your elementary schools in England? Do you not get taught that stuff can be replaced and human beings can’t be?” Your whisper turns into more of an angry shout. 

Neil shakes his head in disapproval. “There are explosives in my suitcase, (Y/N). If they detonated we would be dead,” He says, panic still evident in his voice, and a bit of anger as well. 

You nod, loosening your grip on his collar. “I’m sorry I just,” You pause, knowing full well what had just come over you. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.” You feel your eyes becoming glossy. This was the very thing you were afraid of. You were almost blown to bits, and worse than that, Neil could’ve died. The mission was already failing, and it hadn’t even truly started yet.

You shut your eyes tightly, and a few tears roll down your cheeks.

Neil swallows hard, his arms still resting on your waist. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that.” Neil pulls you into an embrace. 

“It’s okay,” You mumble quietly into his chest.

You let him hold you in silence for a few moments. You needed to process things. You needed to ground yourself. You needed this second with Neil. 

You feel yourself dozing off a bit in Neil’s arms. Visions of a bed with a plush comforter and satin sheets play over in your head. It had to be almost 4:30 in the morning at this point. 

“How are we going to get to the hotel?” You ask, longing for a good night’s sleep. “And what if they know what hotel we’re staying in?”

Neil pulls apart from you and reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. “I’ll call TP and figure out what we’re supposed to do.” Neil types in his passcode, presses on the screen a few times, and lifts his phone up to his ear. 

You look up into the night sky to distract yourself. The stars twinkle lightly, but there’s too much light pollution to get a good look. The cold wind nips at you roughly. You turn to face Neil. He’s pacing back and forth about twenty feet away from you. You try and tune into what he’s saying.

“They fucking know we’re here, what am I supposed to do?” The frustration in his voice is clear. He waits for a response. 

“Yeah, she’s alright I guess, but you shouldn’t have forced her out into the field this early,” He pauses again. “No I don’t care that you’re the boss, she wasn’t ready when she left this afternoon and she definitely isn’t ready now!”

Silence, and then another sentence. “No, I’m not letting my feelings get in the way, that’s not what this is.”

Feelings? 

“I mean of course it’s because I care about her, you know how I feel…” He trails off, and walks a bit farther away from you. What he says next, you can’t hear.

After a few seconds, he starts to walk back, still keeping a bit of a distance. “Alright, we’ll head over there now,” Neil looks up at you and winks, confirming that there’s some sort of plan set in place. 

Neil turns his back to you. “And I swear to God,” He whispers, thinking you can’t hear him, “If she dies, I’m going to kill you.” 

A shiver rolls down your spine at his words. You knew Neil cared about you, but you didn’t know he would threaten TP for you, even if it was just a sarcastic threat.

But this wasn’t a joke.  

“Yeah okay. Thanks,” Neil says finally. “Talk to you later.” He takes the phone away from his ear and presses the red button to hang up. He walks back over to you. You’re still overwhelmed by what Neil had said on the phone, but you push those thoughts to the back of your head.

You yawn listlessly. “So what’s going to happen?” You ask, ready to crash to the ground in exhaustion. 

Neil smiles. He picks up the luggage in his right hand again, and points to the other side of the parking lot. You notice a separate lot filled with rental cars. “TP put in a favor and we’re getting our own car. Looks like you’ll have to deal with my driving.” 

You can’t help but smile back at him. You didn’t mind Neil’s driving at all, to be honest. You felt safe when Neil drove. But then again, you felt safe with Neil no matter what he did. 

“It’s just on the other side of the lot,” Neil reassures. You roll your eyes at the thought of more walking, but you figured it may be a good time to talk about what you had just heard Neil say on the phone. 

Before you can think of something to say, Neil loops his left arm around your waist. His fingers settle on the exposed skin underneath your oversized blazer. Your nerves tingle underneath his touch, and any thoughts you had before disappear from your mind. 

After a few seconds, you force yourself to think back to the phone call. “Neil? Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” Neil says back, smiling down at you. 

“The phone call you just had, with TP,” You pause, trying to find the right words.

Neil shakes his head. “Whatever you heard, don’t worry about it, please. I know what I’m doing,” He pauses and pulls you closer to him. "You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright. ” You’re not entirely content with his answer, but it’s enough for now. 

After a five minute walk, you finally reach the rental lot. Neil walks over to the man inside of the tiny cube shaped building. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but a set of keys are exchanged, and Neil motions for you to follow him. You begrudgingly pick up your pace to catch up with him.

“What kind of car is it?” You ask. Neil presses the panic button once, and the headlights of a black, Porsche 911 flash across your face. 

You go to get into the car, approaching the door on your left hand side, forgetting you’re now in Europe. Neil smirks at you, grabs your hand, and brings you to the other side of the car. He sets the luggage down on the ground, and opens your door, letting you slip inside. Normally, you would have a cheeky response to Neil opening the door for you, but you were too tired now. Neil grabs the luggage, and walks around the other side of the car. He opens his door and puts the luggage in the back seat. 

Neil puts the key into the ignition and starts the car. He takes out his phone, and through your blurry vision, you watch as he slides his finger around. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. Your voice is barely above a whisper and it’s filled with tiredness. “Just drive,” You order sarcastically, nudging Neil with your elbow.  Your sarcasm melts away when you remember the gravity of the situation. “What if they’re already here? What if they’re looking for us?” 

Neil puts his phone in the cupholder, and rests his hand on your thigh. “I’m just setting up the GPS and choosing some music, love,” Neil says. “Take a deep breath. TP just arranged for us to stay at a different hotel, and he has eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll be alright.”

Ten decisions shape your life,

You’ll be aware of 5 about,

7 ways to go to school,

Either you’re noticed or left out.

“I love this song,” You say, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“I know,” Neil says. “Try to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” His voice is calming, and you almost do as he says, but you remember where you are. You wanted to look at the city. You wanted to see it before all the chaos began. You had been to London plenty of times before, but leaving the United States still excited you, even though you were rarely there at all anymore.

When I said "I can see me in your eyes,”

You said "I can see you in my pants,”

That's not just friendship that's romance too.

You like music we can dance to.

The highway goes on for a while, looking reminiscent of highways in America. Grass and trees line the black concrete. There’s no light save for a few street lamps. Each time you start to doze off, you force yourself to wake up. The feeling of Neil’s thumb drawing circles on your thigh doesn’t make it too hard. 

Sit me down,

Shut me up,

I'll calm down,

And I'll get along with you.

The trees melt into industrial areas. Car dealerships, stores, apartments, hotels. And finally, after a few more minutes, you’ve hit Central London. The lights are bright and the buildings are beautiful. 

Don't don't don't don't it's not safe no more,

I've got to see you one more time.

Neil pulls into a parking garage and finds an open spot. “We’re here,” He says, squeezing your thigh lightly. 

You unbuckle your seat belt, carefully open the door, and slide out of the car. Neil grabs the two duffle bags and gets out after you. You head inside the hotel, and Neil checks in. He grabs the keycard and ushers you into the elevator. 

The second you enter the lift, worry fills Neil’s face. His brows furrow and he shuts his eyes as he lets his head hit the wall behind him. 

“Neil?” You ask. “What’s going on?” Maybe it was the jet lag, or maybe it was the exhaustion, but you feel more confident than usual. You step towards him and grab his hands in yours.

Neil takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry we’re here,” He says, his eyes still closed, as if he’s too guilty to face you. “I didn’t want to do the mission yet. I really wanted to wait. I know you aren’t ready yet. I just-,” 

You wrap your arms around Neil, and hold him tightly against your body. “I’ll be alright Neil, I promise.” His arms wrap around your body in response. You pull away from him slightly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You look up into his eyes, down to his lips, and back into his eyes again. Neil brings his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. 

“(Y/N), I need to-,” 

The conversation is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator and the giggles of a drunken couple as they step inside. 

The woman speaks up. “Sssorry for interrupting, loves,” She slurs, cackling a bit. Her boyfriend joins in and cackles with her. Neil politely smiles and nods. He picks up the luggage yet again with one hand, grabbing your wrist with the other. He pulls you outside the elevator and into the hallway. 

Your heart is still beating wildly in your chest. “Neil, you had something you needed to say?”

But the moment is over. He shakes his head. “We can talk about it some other time, I don’t want to overwhelm you. Enough has happened tonight.” Your heart sinks in your chest. Neil swallows, glancing back over towards the elevator. “And those people seemed off. We should really get inside the room.” You nod, agreeing, and allow Neil to take hold of your hand and guide you down the hall to the suite.  

You finally approach the room. 

505. 

“This is us,” Neil says, setting the luggage on the ground to swipe the keycard. The door unlocks, and Neil press down on the handle. You enter the dully lit room, and immediately flop onto the king bed. Neil smirks at you from the doorway. 

He walks inside, and you sigh in relief. “This is so nice,” You murmur, sliding your black converse off your feet. You push yourself further onto the bed so that your head rests on a pillow. 

“We should probably shower,” Neil says, crossing the room. He places the duffle bags on the desk by the window. He takes his suit jacket off. 

You chuckle. “What, like, together?” You erupt into laughter. There was something about being so unbelievably tired and jet lagged that made you a completely different person. It was like being drunk. 

Neil shakes his head and smiles widely. “If that’s what you want,” He retorts.

Oh? Is he flirting with me? He can’t be.

“I-I think I’m t-too tired for a shower a-at all,” You stutter, not sure what else to say. 

“Me too,” Neil says. He begins to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt one by one. Suddenly, his chest is completely exposed. You feel heat rising to your cheeks. 

He undoes his belt, unzips his fly, and steps out of his trousers. He’s only wearing his boxers now. You had seen him like this a million times, but it still caught you by surprise. He walks over to the other side of the bed, grabs a pillow, and drops it on the ground. He grabs the throw blanket at the edge of the bed and drops it on the ground as well.

You furrow your brows, confused by his actions. “What are you doing?” You ask. 

Neil’s blue gaze meets yours. “Setting up camp,” He jokes, sending a smile your way.

You breathe deeply, still riding out on the confidence that being sleep deprived gave you. “Why don’t you sleep in the bed with me?” 

Neil inhales sharply. “I don’t want to bother you. You’re exhausted.”

“I think I’d sleep better if you were with me, actually.” You let the words come right out, no regrets. “You make me feel safe, Neil,” You confess. 

Neil smiles and bends down, grabbing the pillow and the blanket, placing them back on the bed. He lifts the covers and slides in. You get underneath the covers too. You don’t realize how close you are to Neil until you turn onto your side to face him. 

“I’m glad I make you feel safe, (Y/N),” Neil finally responds. Your heart feels like it might burst. You and Neil had shared a bed in the past, but you had only ever been this close inside of one a handful of times before. “You have no idea how much I care about you.”

“You have no idea how much I care about you, Neil,” You say. 

Neil pushes himself up a bit, and presses a kiss against your forehead. You’re stunned. “Goodnight, (Y/N),” Neil says, and he reaches over to turn off the lamp next to his nightstand. The room goes pitch black. 

“Goodnight, Neil,” You say. Neil turns over to the other side and you do the same. You stay like that for a few minutes, before tossing and turning a few times. Seconds ago you were comfortable, and now you weren’t. 

As you laid alone in your thoughts, your anxieties all began to flood back to you. How the fuck am I going to do this? How is this mission going to turn out? This is going to be absolutely impossible. What if something happens to Neil? Your mind races with thoughts. You turn a few more times before you feel a hand on your waist. 

“I thought you were exhausted,” Neil snickers. 

“I am but-,”

Neil cuts you off. “But that doesn’t stop your mind from racing?” 

You turn around to face him. “Unfortunately, no.”

Neil wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into his bare chest. “Is this okay?” He asks. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter, pressing your face into the center of his chest. 

And finally, for the first night in over a month, you were able to sleep, nightmare free. 

So why not try it all,

If you only remember it once?

Sit me down,

Shut me up,

I'll calm down,

And I'll get along with you.

>>>>>Chapter 3

[mostlycompetentwriter]

TMT One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x 3racha (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: High School AU

Warnings: Lots of smut and language; mentions of alcohol

Summary: Y/N is the shy, awkward girl who can’t talk to boys while doing her best to exist as a shadow throughout her high school life. Her two brothers, Minho and Felix, are the complete opposite. Minho is the cool, suave music addict who wants to be in his own band one day, while Felix is the stereotypical popular kid whose best friend, Han Jisung, tirelessly trails after his friend’s older sister. However, despite their differences, the three siblings share a very close relationship and Y/N considers them to be her only real friends. 

One day, Minho brings home two classmates from his community college and Y/N realizes, for the very first time, that the sweet taste of desire is highly addictive.

When my mother died, I was only 10-years-old. She slipped away like a ghost, quietly and without notice, and I was left feeling broken on the inside. If I was a therapist, unlike the contemptuous older woman who always spoke to me with a condescending tone, I’d likely attribute the traumatic event to the person I started to become. 

Instead of bouncing back from her death like my brothers Minho and Felix, I started to feel sad all the time. Accordingly, I lost many of the friends I met in Elementary school because I chose to sit quietly in my classes when I didn't feel like talking to anyone else. Likewise, I also declined their invitations to visit their houses or ride with their parents to the movie theaters. Actually, I exchanged those friendships for the solitude of my bedroom at home where I usually spent the evening staring vacantly at the ceiling while trying not to cry anymore.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda my fault.

Overtime, my status evolved from the kind, amiable Y/N who everyone at school admired, to the sullen and despondent weird girl who sometimes spoke to imaginary friends. I spent recesses inside with my teachers, helping them clean the whiteboard. During lunch, I sat alone with my school tray and thought about how my mother used to pack my lunches for me because I complained about the mystery meatloaf....Oh, right, thinking about my mother inevitably made me feel sad again and sometimes I cried at school in front of my classmates. 

Needless to say, my youth wasn’t exactly as voracious as my peers...or even my brothers for that matter. Actually, Minho and Felix were perfectly normal because they mourned our mother’s death for several months before inexplicably moving on as if it had never happened. Thereafter, Minho developed a passion for music and my father allowed him to take guitar and piano lessons after school. Felix started to play sports and he was quite good at baseball despite his smaller stature. Likewise, in between classes, I heard my classmates frequently gossiping about my brothers: mysterious and alluring Minho who all the older girls adored, and popular and beloved Felix who was the envy of our classmates. 

I didn’t mind being considered an outsider in comparison to my brothers because they still treated me like a friend. In fact, my brothers and I were extremely close, especially after our mother’s death. Despite my introverted tendencies, Minho and Felix often went out of their way to include me in their activities. For example, Minho liked to offer his demos as background music for the raunchier parties in our town and he always begged me to come along and hear his new songs. My older brother was so incredibly talented that I rarely refused his offers, finding myself sitting next to Felix in the backseat of Minho’s car while we drove across town to the wealthier districts. I would spend the rest of the night hanging around my brothers while listening to Minho sing about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the pot he liked to smoke with some of the younger guys.

In any case, I could always count on my brothers to liven my spirits, which might explain why I was so uncomfortable when Minho graduated and applied for University. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because Minho was only driving thirty minutes everyday to attend his classes and he still lived at home. But it still felt like an unwanted change, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with my brother’s sudden desire to build a studio in the basement of our childhood home while he brought new classmates to fawn over his equipment.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid the unfamiliar faces, and I started spending more time with Felix. Unfortunately, spending time with Felix inevitably forced me to endure the endless pandering from some of his more unsavory acquaintances. For example, when I wanted to play video games one afternoon, I knocked twice on Felix’s door only to find myself in the company of someone who was decidedly the complete opposite of my brother. His name was Han Jisung, and he was Felix’s best friend. “Y/N,” he said quietly, sheepishly attempting to fix the mop on top of his head. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder. “Where’s Felix?”

“Bathroom,” Jisung said, pointing at the door. 

I groaned. “Are you busy?”

“We’re never too busy for you,” Jisung smirked, but he always flirted with me shamelessly as if he didn’t care that I was Felix’s older sister.

I ignored Jisung when I walked into Felix’s bedroom, finding a relatively clean spot on his bed to wait for his return. In the meantime, Jisung lingered by the doorway, watching me with those ridiculous dark eyes. “I heard Minho made another demo.”

“He’s always making demos,” I replied, wondering why Felix was determined to take his time for once.

“Yeah, but he’s really proud of this one.”

“Minho thinks he’s a genius,” I said. “If you were to ask him, then every song he made would be a masterpiece.”

“Well, he’s the reason why I've started to pursue music.”

“You?” I scoffed, finding the idea of Jisung as a creator of anything other than enormous messes on the kitchen counter to be nothing short of hilarious. “Jisung, you can’t even finish your math homework.”

“That’s not true!” Jisung protested. “It’s just not that interesting, and I like music so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’ll find something else to like in a few months,” I said, watching as he frowned with that ridiculous pout he always wore when he wasn’t getting his way.

“Yeah? Well, when my first mixtape comes out,” Jisung grumbled. 

“I’ll be the first one asking for an autograph,” I teased him, rolling my eyes when he sat next to me and held up his pinky finger.

“Promise?”

“Fine,” I sighed before trying to move further away from Jisung.

He didn’t allow the space for very long, sliding right up against me without any traces of his previous frustrations. “Y/N,” Jisung said, hand reaching out for my shoulder. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party,” I said. “I have a lot of homework this weekend, and-”

“Actually, Minho invited us,” Felix interrupted, and I didn’t even realize that my brother had returned. I was also surprised to see Minho behind him, stretching his arms above his head like he had forgotten to sleep again last night.

“You’re going too?” I asked Minho.

“It’s Chan’s party,” Minho explained. “He’s playing some of my demo tracks.”

“Bang Chan,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes because I had heard my brother mention that name dozens of times. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, then I would think Minho had some kind of infatuation with his new college friend.

“I think Minho is in love,” Felix teased, dodging Minho’s playful swing before he joined Jisung and I on the edge of his bed.

“He’s just a friend from one of my lectures,” Minho said. 

“Minho also thinks he’s a genius,” Felix whispered to me, but it was loud enough for our brother to overhear. 

“You like him too,” Minho protested.

“Felix met him?”

“Last week,” Felix beamed. “Minho and I ran into him on the way to get coffee. Your lazy ass was still asleep at 12:00.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I stayed up late to finish an essay.”

“College will kick your ass, Y/N,” Minho said. “If you can’t survive high school literature...”

“I get it,” I groaned. “I don’t want another lecture.”

“Good, but you’re still coming to the party because I want you to meet Chan and hear your brother’s masterpiece.”

“Please stop calling your mixtape a masterpiece.”

“I’ll consider it,” Minho smirked, “as long as I see you at Chan’s house this Friday.”

“This is considered blackmail, Minho,” I sighed. “But fine, I’ll need the time and address, please.”

I stood on the porch in the frigid cold wearing a party dress that might’ve been overkill, and I had a desire to return to my house because nobody was answering the door. Actually, when I really thought about it, this complex was too nice for a college student, unless Chan had discovered Blackbeard’s treasure or something. I snorted at my own joke, waiting impatiently for someone to let me inside because my brothers weren’t responding to my text messages. 

The music sounded faint from behind the door, which made me wonder if Minho had given me the wrong address. It wouldn’t be the first time that my brother gave me some kind of misinformation, but I thought he really wanted me to come tonight and hear his music. “Hello!” I yelled, banging my fist against the door. “Minho? I’m leaving in exactly ten seconds if nobody lets me inside!”

I started the countdown in my head, jumping up and down to warm my muscles, when a sudden expulsion of heat relieved the tension slowly numbing my fingers. “There you are,” Felix said with a drunken smile.

“Isn’t too early for you to be plastered?”

Felix giggled. “They’re playing Minho’s music next.”

“Well, let me inside you asshole,” I said, pushing my way into the house because my brother had clearly forgotten that it was basically snowing outside.

“What do you think?” Felix asked. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I can’t see anything,” I complained, narrowing my eyes since it was difficult to notice the details when the house was packed wall to wall with intoxicated college students. The lights were also dimmed, which meant that walking was an unnecessary chore as Felix took my hand and brought me into the kitchen where he promised Minho was waiting.

At least he wasn’t fully incapable. 

“Y/N,” Minho grinned, tossing an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer, allowing me to smell the nasty liquor on his breath.

“Drunk at your mixtape reveal party?”

Minho laughed. “I haven’t had much.”

“Felix has,” I said, grimacing when I spotted my younger brother bouncing from person to person with an unmaintainable energy.

“Let him have fun,” Minho said. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Whatever, but he’s your responsibility in the morning when he’s suffering from a hangover.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minho reassured me. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?”

“Chan! Get your ass over here!”

“What a good friend you are,” I remarked, and I was fully prepared to tease my brother further until I realized that Minho was waving down one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

Chan was absolutely gorgeous, appearing nothing short of debauched under the low-hanging lights of the kitchen. Neatly styled blonde-hair parted down the middle, and bright blue eyes that held the stars inside an endless sea of black. “Are you guys having fun?” he asked with an accent that I couldn’t place.

“The place is fucking awesome, man,” Minho said, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders as he nodded in my direction. “This is my sister,” Minho said with a proud smile. 

“Hello,” I said, cringing at my tone.

“Y/N,” Chan smiled, and I decided that nobody could ever say my name again with such a sexy tenor.

“You have a lovely home,” I said, swallowing hard when Chan leaned in closer. 

“Minho talks about you a lot,” Chan said with a smirk. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nodded without thinking, keeping my eyes trained on his beautiful visage as a beer slipped into my hand. “Pace yourself,” Minho warned me, but I ignored him as I swallowed down the bile-tasting liquid.

“I like her,” Chan nodded, looking at me seductively from over the top of his bottle.

“She’s a bit uptight,” Minho chuckled, and I glared at him because this was not the time to embarrass me. “Are my songs playing next?”

“I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Chan said, giving me one last lingering look.

“Let’s find a good place to hear everything,” Minho suggested, and I followed my brother with thoughts and fantasies consumed by Bang Chan.

Minho’s mixtape was really good, and I begrudgingly congratulated my brother and even allowed him to tell everyone that it was, in fact, a masterpiece. However, while my brother was distracted by a group of younger fan-girls, I slipped away to try and find somewhere peaceful to recover from my headache. It had developed sometime between the pounding bass line of “BEWARE” and the aggressive tone of “Boxer.” 

I paused next to the foyer where there were considerably less people. In fact, only one student lingered next to the open window, and I leaned against the wall as I closed my eyes against the distinct ringing in my ears. Next time, I would wear earplugs when Minho forced me to stand at the speakers.

“You’re not going to pass out, right?”

I blinked several times as the room swam into focus. “I’ll probably make it.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the rough voice continued, and I finally addressed the hooded figure standing at the window. I realized that he was smoking, holding the bud of the cigarette outside so that the ashes collected somewhere on the porch. “I’m Changbin,” he smirked. 

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I share the window?”

He shrugged, tossing his hood back so that I could see the way his black hair fell flat against his head. “Sure.”

I carefully felt my way along the wall until the generous cold breeze was hitting my flushed skin. “Thank god,” I groaned, practically forcing my head outside.

“Drink too much?”

“A combination of that and the music.”

“I heard a rumor that the beer was definitely spiked,” he said, dark eyes looking me over. “You’re obviously new here.”

“I’m with my brother,” I offered cautiously in response to his sudden advances.

“Do I know him?”

“Lee Minho.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “We’re in the same music composition lecture. I thought he mentioned you in class.”

“He invited me,” I continued, but I didn’t understand why I felt the need to justify myself to him.

“I bet he did,” Changbin nodded. “Why would he hide you from us?”

I shivered. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Is that right?” he asked before cornering me against the wall with a hungry gaze. “You hear the song playing?”

I nodded. “It’s loud.”

Changbin chuckled. “I made it.”

I nodded again because that certainly explained the explicit lyrics. “It’s...interesting?”

“Yeah?” Changbin purred. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gasped, feeling one of his hands grab me around the waist.

His lips brushed against mine, soft and sensual, while he inhaled deeply. “Y/N, is this your first party?”

“No,” I whispered because it suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the room.

“I just assumed,” he said. “From the way you’re reacting.”

“W-what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted to go someplace else with me,” Changin said.

I was completely baffled by his assumption, searching for the right words, but they never came. However, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced us apart, and I was surprised to see Chan standing so close. “I guess you’ve met Minho’s little sister,” Chan said and I hated how immature the introduction sounded. 

“She made sure to tell me,” Changbin smirked. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

“He’s looking for her,” Chan continued, and I was confused by the hostility in his tone. “You probably shouldn’t do anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Changbin retorted, planting one of his hands next to my head. “She’s feeling sick. Tell Minho I can take her home.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Oh? Is anyone else sober?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us. “Wait here.”

“What a good host,” Changbin snarked, but Chan was already walking away and I was starting to feel the effects of my alcoholic consumption darken the edges of my vision.

My brother was nothing short of incoherent, swaying back against Chan as he tried to give me a stern look. “Y/N, I hope you didn’t drink too much.”

“Really?” I snorted. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Of course, my admonishment had no effect on Minho. “Chan said that you were feeling sick.”

“It’s just a headache,” I said, although my churning stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I thought I could take Y/N home,” Changbin interrupted. “I guess she could use some fresher air.”

“Sure,” Minho nodded, eyes glassy. “I don’t mind.”

Minho was readily willing to entrust his sister into the care of someone she had just met, and that’s when I knew that he couldn’t be trusted to take me anywhere. “Is that what you want?” Chan asked.

I shrugged because it might be nice to finally escape the endless drumming of Chan’s intricate sound system. “I might be saving myself some trouble.”

“I need more cigarettes,” Changbin said. “I’m running low and I know there’s a store near Minho’s house.

I frowned, but figured that Minho had brought Changbin over to our house before during that brief phase at the start of his college semester when I saw a new face in the basement every week. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“As long as you behave,” Chan warned him quietly, but I never had the opportunity to question him before Changbin was forcing us both outside onto the main porch where the snow was starting to build along the sidewalks.

“This way,” Changbin said, resting one of his hands against my lower back as he guided us down the street.

Changbin’s car was a very old model and the paint was starting to peel from the doors. He helped me inside slowly, reaching for my seat-belt before I slapped his hands out of the way because I could manage to do that by myself. He chuckled at my glare. “Comfortable?”

I nodded in response and waited for him to turn on the ignition before I was savoring the accompanying blast of heat even though it smelled distinctly of ashes. “Minho’s little sister,” Changbin said, eyes focused on the road in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I replied because the growing distance between us and Chan’s party music was actually nice. “I guess the music gave me a headache.”

“That’s how Chan likes it,” Changbin said. “He’s gotten at least a dozen noise complaints from this past month alone.”

“How many parties does he have!”

Changbin smirked. “He likes to keep his house full.”

“It might’ve been too much tonight,” I said, leaning my head against the cold window. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

“Exams,” Changbin said. “When college students feel stressed, they like to get shitfaced.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“Who said that I was stressed?”

His tone was strangely flirtatious, especially when he looked at me. “You didn’t have to help me, you know?”

“I know, but it was my window we were sharing,” Changbin said. “You looked like you were seconds away from crashing.”

“I can take care of myself,” I replied, even though it was rather harsh to criticize someone who was currently neglecting the speed limit to take my home as quickly as possible. “When did you meet Minho?”

“A few weeks ago,” Changbin said. “We worked on a project together.”

“I guess you’ve already been to my house.”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you.”

“I don’t really like to socialize with most of my brother’s friends.” 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Changbin said, briefly glancing at me. “Are you that type? The unattainable girl next door?”

“I just don’t like people,” I grumbled, but Changbin seemed to think it was funny, laughing at my expense while reaching down to turn on the radio despite the fact that music had caused my headache in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t want to be that type, so I endured his self-promotion, listening to his gravelly voice suspend the entire car into some kind of hip-hip haven. He talked his way through the introductions of every song on his mixtapes, bragging about his compositions and arrangements. “It’s all about authenticity,” he explained when we finally pulled into my driveway.

“Is that so?” I sighed, frowning when I realized Felix had forgotten to turn on the front porch light.

“I guess I should wait until you’re inside,” Changbin chuckled.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out for the door handle.

“Woah! Baby, where are you going?” Changbin asked, and I quickly returned my hands to my lap. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

“No,” I shook my head, breathing heavily when he reached for my thigh.

“You probably don’t hear this a lot,” Changbin continued. “But you’re really sexy.”

I startled at his words. “Thank you?”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he continued, fingers inching along my thigh like it was free real estate. “Thank god you wanted to share my window.”

I shook my head rapidly when he turned off the ignition, navigating the waistband of his panties to drag his hand against my sensitive core. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” he said. “Do you want me to?”

I nodded this time, waiting with my fists balled against the leather seats while he penetrated the soft walls of my core, moving in and out slowly to help me adjust to his fingers. I tried to relax, dropping my shoulders and controlling the way I was panting in desperation for more of the addicting feeling he was creating in my lower abdomen. It all felt entirely scandalous, feeling the way his fingers dragged across my insides, curling against the most responsive parts and watching me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I was moaning for him, calling his name softly because he was starting to increase his movements, and I focused on the way his wrist reappeared from underneath my skirt before losing itself in a sea of denim fabric.

“It’s wet,” he remarked, and the sounds of his penetration were growing louder, intermingling with my rapid breaths and the dark tone of his voice. “I can feel it.”

I knew what he meant because my entire body was pulsing in time to the pace in which he played with me. It was like I was his personal experiment, testing how I reacted to certain touches, especially when he crooked his fingers and a moan would displace the temporary quiet. “Changbin,” I whined, reaching for his arm because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I got you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me, Y/N, I’m not gonna stop until you cum.”

I orgasmed at his filthy words, falling down from the place he sent me and into a deep headspace. He pulled his fingers back, holding them up so that I could clearly see the evidence of my release in the faint light from the street lamp outside. “You didn’t expect that,” Changbin said calmly, reaching for a tissue from the backseat while I tried to figure out what just happened. “I don’t really care who your brother is,” he continued, moving in close. “I think we should fuck next time.” 

“Changbin,” I said, “if Minho finds out-”

“Why are you always worried about him?”

“He’s my brother!”

“Oh? Well, in that case, since you want to be good for your older brother,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different way to see you again.”

The next morning, I took a shower because I could still feel traces of Changbin’s touches between my thighs. The water was hot, fogging up the mirrors and making it difficult to breathe. It was necessary because I could function better when I re-emerged with fresh clothes and a sudden hunger for those little chocolate muffins my mom bought at the store.

I walked downstairs, noticing Felix and Jisung both sitting at the counter while they talked over their breakfast. Felix noticed me first, watching as I grabbed a leftover pastry from the fridge before leaning back against the cabinets. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but then I realized that his question was innocent because he definitely didn’t know about Changbin. “It was nice.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t made plans.”

“You can hang out with me and Jisung today,” Felix suggested. “We’re just going for coffee.”

Jisung met my gaze from over the table and he quickly looked away as if he wasn’t expecting the contact. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I could use some coffee.”

It wasn’t often that I accompanied Felix and Jisung when they decided to actually leave the house and my brother’s massive collection of video games. Felix was never the problem, but I could only endure so much of Jisung’s flirtations before I inevitably made another pointless vow to try and ignore him. It was an impossible promise to keep since Felix was practically glued to his hip, and I can’t remember the last time Jisung actually spent the night at his own home.

However, coffee was nice and the taste was bile so it sat heavy on my tongue and provided a good distraction, even if that meant listening to my brother and Felix talk about the party. “I met Chan,” Jisung said. “He was really cool.”

Felix nodded, eyeing his coffee with obvious distaste. “Minho seems to like him.”

“He introduced me to his partner, Changbin,” Jisung continued and I fidgeted nervously at the mention of his name. “Apparently, they do a lot of work together.”

“I’ve heard their stuff,” Felix said, finally pushing away his coffee cup in exchange for his orange juice. “I think they’re really talented.”

“It’s like you’re meeting real professionals,” Jisung gushed and I rolled my eyes. “I let them listen to one of my demos,” Jisung chuckled. “I think they want to work together.”

“Really?” Felix gasped. “That’s amazing!”

“I guess they need another partner,” I remarked, shivering when I thought about my encounter with Changbin from the previous evening.

“You can always come with me to the studio tomorrow,” Jisung said. “If you want.”

The idea of being alone with Jisung wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. “I don’t know...”

“Changbin will be there too,” Jisung added. “Minho said he really thought you were cool at the party.”

“I bet he did,” I grumbled.

“Why are you inviting her instead of your best friend?” Felix pouted.

“You said you needed to work on a project,” Jisung reminded him. “Actually, you made me swear to keep away distractions!”

“Alright, fine,” Felix sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it.”

Jisung ignored my brother’s sullen expression. “Y/N? Do you want to come?”

“I guess,” I said, and I had no idea what possessed me to agree with his request until it was too late.

The next morning, I met Jisung outside of the address he had sent to my phone with several rather inappropriate emojis. I made sure to scold him for the messages, but he was far too excited, ignoring my complaints when he started talking about the new project he was working on with Chan and Changbin. “Come on,” he said, holding open the door as I walked inside the tiny lobby of the simple two-story building. “We’re on the top floor,” Jisung smirked as if that was something to brag about considering the condition of the worn-down warehouse they were using as a studio.

However, I knew that he was excited, so I feigned a smile as he continued talking about the building’s intricate history while we walked up the staircase to pause outside of a studio room. “Is this it?” I asked.

He nodded, reaching for the door handle. “They should be inside.”

True to his word, Chan and Changbin were standing together in front of a large computer monitor, turning around when they heard me and Jisung enter the room together. “There you are,” Chan said, but his gaze was strangely focused on me.

“We have some stuff for you to hear,” Changbin said, stretching his arms above his head. “I need some coffee first.”

“There’s a gas station down the road,” Jisung said. “I’ll go with you?”

Changbin looked at me for a moment before agreeing to Jisung’s proposal. “We’ll have plenty of time to work when we get back.”

“You’re in for a surprise, Jisung,” Chan said. “Actually, while the two of you are gone, maybe Y/N could look at some of the tracks?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that he would be so willing to share, but he was already dragging me down into the desk chair, pulling me closer to the monitor.

“You can take you time and browse,” he said, joining Jisung and Changbin at the door.

They started talking about something else, but I was too busy admiring the vast number of tracks listened in sequential order on Chan’s computer. Despite how I might feel about Changbin, it was impossible to deny that their work was impressive, spreading across years of effort. It felt like I was being allowed an intimate glimpse of the artists who were growing more popular everyday.

“Try to be back in twenty minutes,” Chan said, and I watched Jisung and Changbin leave together, whispering in low tones while Chan shut the door behind them. “Your music is really good,” I said, scrolling through the library of his songs. It only made him that much more appealing when I could see the evidence of his passion.

“Are we going to stop playing games, Y/N?”

I frowned at his question, turning around in the chair. “What do you mean?”

Chan smirked, and I realized that it wasn’t playful. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

“Chan...” I trailed off, frozen in place while he slowly leered in my direction, taking several, meaningful steps before he was bracing himself on either side of the desk behind me. 

“Changbin told me about what happened in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “W-what?”

“Is that all it takes? A couple of fingers to satisfy you?”

“Chan, I don’t understand,” I tried, gasping when he picked me up out of the chair, legs wrapping around his waist automatically before he sat me down on the desk.

“Do you want it again?” Chan asked, running his hands alongside my waist before crawling his finger across the bare skin of my thighs, disregarding the thin barrier of my skirt. I felt him press the palm of his hand against my wet heat, fingers testing the edges of my panties. “I can make you feel good.”

The sensation was too much, and I found myself nodding without really thinking about the consequences. “Please.”

His fingers were suddenly penetrating my delicate walls, sliding in and out at a vicious pace that left me aching for something more. “Tell me, Y/N,” Chan demanded, using his thumb to circle my throbbing clitoris. “How does it feel?”

“I want it, Chan,” I moaned, bracing my hands against his firm chest as he continued to pleasure me. Unlike Changbin, I could tell that Chan was determined to make me cum as soon as possible, twisting his hand and jamming his fingers like he was aiming to make me lose my mind. I practically fell against him crying, riding out the waves of my high, while he ignored my whimpers when everything was suddenly feeling overstimulated.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out his fingers before falling against his chair and patting his thighs.

My legs were shaking when Chan helped me onto his lap and I moaned when his fingers crooked against my walls again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked and I nodded viciously, sending strands of my hair flying in all directions. “What a good girl,” he snarled, ripping his fingers away and leaving me whining around the empty space he left behind.

“Chan,” I groaned, resting my head against his shoulder while I watched him make a show out of undoing the belt around his waist, unzipping his skinny jeans before shoving the material down his thighs. His erection strained the silky material of his boxer shorts, and I was practically salivating.

He reached down to rub himself through his shorts, outlining his cock in a way that made me realize that I wasn’t going to leave this studio without an obvious limp. “Y/N,” he said. “Take off your skirt for me.”

I whined, but obeyed him instantly, bracing one hand against his shoulder while the other practically ripped the fine material of the pretty skirt down my legs and into the studio floor. Chan’s eyes darkened, grabbing my waist between his hands to grind the front of my soaked panties against his erection. “Please,” I cried, wanting nothing more than to take matters into my own hands, but Chan’s grip was impossible to break.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy,” Chan growled. “Can you last long enough for me to come inside?”

“Yes,” I whined, stuttering around a broken sob when he pulled his cock into the studio light, stretching my panties to the side before sinking deep inside my pulsing heat.

“That’s right,” Chan said, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“Chan,” I moaned, eye widening when the stretch felt impossible, like he was splitting me open even when common sense told me that it was just my body accommodating to his cock.

His hips slammed into mine, and I could barely reciprocate when he easily overpowered my attempts to meet him somewhere between our bodies. Instead, he took control and I let him have it because he knew exactly what to do before sending me over the edge again, ignoring my cries when he continued to chase his own high, grunting against my ear when he came inside.

“Y/N,” he sighed, keeping me in place despite the fact that his cock was completely flaccid. “Such a good girl.”

I was incoherent and incapable of offering a response in return. Instead, I buried my face into the side of his neck, smelling the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the sex polluting the air around us. His body was firm and warm, and I closed my eyes because everything felt like an incredibly lucid dream.

I was still exhausted from the previous afternoon, unable to walk much further than from my bedroom to the living room before the painful reminder of my unexpected session with Chan started to ache between my legs. There was a movie playing on the television, but I was only somewhat focused on the lazy plot and characters. Instead, I was thinking about my interactions with Chan and Changbin, wondering if the two men were playing some sort of mind game with me.

I only managed to tear myself away from those thoughts when I saw Minho as he walked down the stairs with Felix and Jisung talking about something to do with a sports competition. “There you are!” Felix exclaimed. “We were just talking about your visit to the studio with Jisung.”

“I heard you got a tour,” Minho said. “That was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” I agree because there was a lot more to talk about besides the tour of the dilapidated studio.

“I haven’t had a chance to visit,” Minho said. “But they said I could record my new demo there.”

“Another one!” Felix gasped, looking at my brother with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho smirked. “Actually, I can show you before my first lecture,” Minho said, starting in the direction of his bedroom.

Jisung watched Felix trail behind Minho before he joined me on the couch. “What did you think of the studio?”

I swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“I think it’s really nice,” Jisung said. “Chan said something making us a permanent trio! He even gave us a name and everything!”

“Oh?”

“3racha,” Jisung giggled. “It’s like a pun-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Jisung was undeterred by the sharp comment, and he buried himself further into the cushions before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Our first show is tomorrow, Y/N,” Jisung giggled, and I finally turned to look at him. “I hope you can watch?”

“Where?”

“It’s a club somewhere downtown. I can send you the address? I know that Chan and Changbin were both insisting that you come.”

“I’m sure they were,” I grumbled, but Jisung was more interested in talking about his contributions to the album. 

“It would mean a lot to me,” he managed after thoroughly explaining their newest concept. “You don’t even have to stay for the whole show.”

“I don’t know...”

“Minho and Felix are coming!” he quickly added, and I wondered if he knew that I would feel more comfortable with my brothers around.

“Okay,” I finally relented, groaning when he started jumping up and down on the couch like an overzealous puppy.

I rode to the club with Minho and Felix who were excitedly chattering about the impending concert while I looked out the window despondently. It felt like a huge risk to show up to the concert considering the recent events concerning my meetings with Chan and Changbin. However, I didn’t want my brothers to be suspicious, so I reluctantly followed them inside where we squeezed together around one of the tables in the middle of an enormous crowd.

The atmosphere was euphoric, draped in a haze of alcohol and the flashing neon lights decorating the stage. It was actually quite civil considering the fact that we were moments away from listening to loud music full of pounding bass and fast rapping. I was half-way convinced that the other guests had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into by coming here tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an annoucement blared overheard, “please welcome, 3racha!”

The audience started clapping while a familiar melody began softly playing, and the fans around me started to cheer for the three shadowy figures who had suddenly walked onto the stage. “Let’s go!” Chan shouted, beginning his verse of the song which I now recognized as one of the tracks they had played for me at the studio. They were all wearing black, matching the tone and vibe of their music, playing through each track with an infectious energy. However, I was still unnerved because I noticed that they all managed to look at me at some point, even though the crowd, and I was starting to feel hot all over my entire body.

“They’re really good,” Felix remarked, and I nodded in return even though I was finding the table much more interesting.

“Thank you, 3racha!” an overhead announcement said and the audience were rising to their feet in synchrony to offer the artists a round of applause for their stage.

“Jisung sounded amazing!” Felix said as if he couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag about his friend.

“Maybe we can meet them backstage,” Minho suggested, and I halfheartedly protested when my brothers forced me to accompany them.

Subsequently, Minho forced Felix and I to wait by the stage for his friends because he was convinced that I really didn’t have an important project to complete before tomorrow. “You never do anything last minute, Y/N,” he said, smiling when he spotted Chan’s messy hair from the middle of the crowd.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him, accepting Minho’s failed attempt at a cool handshake. Changbin and Jisung followed him, and I couldn’t help but notice how the youngest had started to stumble on his feet. 

“You guys did great,” Minho said, talking extensively about his favorite performance while a sudden bombardment of alcohol hit my senses.

I instantly recoiled, covering my nose when the smell grew stronger. “How much did you drink, Jisung?”

“Not much,” the younger boy slurred, and I noticed that his eyes were distant.

“I’ll grab us more drinks,” Changbin said, giving me a familiar dark look before disappearing into the surrounding crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix said, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “You deserve to celebrate tonight, man!”

I tugged on Minho’s sleeve to catch his attention, unwittingly drawing Chan’s gaze at the same time. “I think he’s drunk.”

Minho sighed, ready to launch into one of his world-famous lectures, when he was interrupted by the DJ onstage who confronted Chan. “Hey! We couldn’t find you after the show.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “I was out here the entire time.”

“Well, you need to pick up your CD backstage,” the DJ said. “The owners will throw it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right there,” Chan grumbled while glaring at the DJ.

“Now,” the man growled and Chan quietly excused himself with a brittle tone. Meanwhile, I had to help Felix with Jisung because his friend was starting to sway dangerously back and forth.

“He needs to go home,” I sighed, watching as Jisung leaned more of his weight against a much smaller Felix.

“I’d take him, but I already had two beers,” Minho said, looking at Felix expectantly.

“Me!” Felix whined. “But I want to stay.”

“He’s your friend,” I glowered.

“Alright,” Minho groaned. “Y/N, you haven’t had anything to drink and you’re way more responsible than Felix.”

It was easy to meet Minho’s stern gaze since this was the perfect opportunity to finally leave the club. “Fine, I’ll take Jisung home.”

“Then it’s settled,” he agreed, tossing me his spare set of car keys. “Take him to our place.”

“Okay,” I said, groaning when Felix helped Jisung wrap his arms around my shoulders and waist. The additional weight was burdensome, and I cursed Jisung under my breath as I helped him through the club to where the bouncer waited at the exit. “I’ll never let you forget this,” I hissed, waiting for the bouncer to open the door while I took one last look over my shoulder to check on my brothers. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Changbin’s dark eyes as he waited by the bar, a familiar smirk making him appear even more dangerous. I shivered in response before I slowly shuffled to the car with Jisung practically breathing down my neck.

When I finally managed to accompany Jisung inside my house, I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, ignoring the way he groaned in complaint. “I’ll find you some medicine,” I said, searching through one of the side tables.

“It hurts,” Jisung whined, and I rolled my eyes after shoving a bottle of Aspirin in his direction.

“Remember that when you decide to be stupid again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before swallowing them eagerly.

I grimaced as I sat down next to him. “When did you start drinking?”

“Before the show,” Jisung said. “Changbin said it would help take the edge off.”

“Yeah? Do me a favor and don’t listen to him anymore,” I said, frowning when Jisung curled closer to my side. “What are you doing?”

“Tired,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

I scoffed, trying to push him away, but alcohol apparently made him bolder because he was suddenly twisting one leg around my hip to hold himself in place. “Jisung, you need to stop,” I said, gasping when he brought his lips against mine, kissing me with skill and a surprising amount of tongue. “We can’t do this!”

“Please,” Jisung whined, grinding his hips against my legs. “Just one night, Y/N?”

“Your drunk,” I said, which was only one of a dozen problems with the scenarios currently playing out right in front of my very eyes.

“I’m sober,” Jisung promised, frantically chasing my lips with eager kisses.

It was nothing short of desire, the way he was looking at me, while I watched our clothes end up in a pile around the couch as Jisung fumbled with the condom before I helped him roll it onto his erection. He groaned at the contact, and I moved my hand up and down his cock a few more times before directing him between my legs. Jisung slid inside with a messy exhale, and his arms trembled as they supported his body looming over mine with his delicate frame.

It was a pleasant contradiction because Chan’s thrusts had been nothing short of confident while Jisung’s inexperience showed in the frantic way his hips stuttered against mine. He tried to move faster, losing his previous rhythm, and his cock fell all the way out, erection sliding between my thighs instead. He whined pathetically, rutting against my legs for several moments before he re-adjusted himself deep inside. “Y/N,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” I told him, petting my fingers along the crown of his head. “You’re doing so good.”

“I like you so much,” Jisung replied earnestly and my heart ached at his words.

He looked unbelievably sinful, eclipsing my body against his as I felt the fabric of the couch against my skin. The friction was delicious, and I focused on the way his cock felt, thrusts growing more and more assured as he finally found a way to please us both, thumb brushing across my clitoris. He was still kissing me, tongue moving across mine deliberately, and I was breathing harshly as I fought to control the rising heat building in my abdomen. It was an intense build-up to an orgasm that I could’ve never anticipated since Jisung was always Felix’s friend who I usually avoided. The same Jisung whose endless flirtations usually annoyed me, but something had changed the moment I looked into his eyes and saw the lust and desire coming together to create an intoxicating mixture.

It was suddenly impossible to ignore the way he made me feel and I felt him come deep inside with a stuttered moan. His hips moved harshly against mine, and I chased my release with a sensual grind of my hips until I was throwing my head back with a cry, groaning when his lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. “Jisung,” I murmured, watching him through a haze of darkness as he rolled over next to me with a moan.

I studied the way Jisung’s hair fanned out across the cushions, making him look angelic beneath the influence of the moon’s light breaking the barrier of the  curtains. It made me feel guilty, realizing that I had finally returned Jisung’s feelings only after my tumultuous affairs with Changbin and Chan. In fact, I was nothing more than the very girls I often mocked when they threw themselves at the most popular boys in school. I swallowed hard at the realization. “What have I done?”

[thetriggeredhappy]

Scout's been having a rough week because everyone seems to be too busy for him, even though the team is on vacation. At first he's bored, but as the days continue, he finds himself angry. But soon he just feels awful lonely, desperately craving the attention/affection he's been lacking. Finally he goes to Demo and Sniper, who are working on an important project. They tell him they're busy for the time being, but are suddenly alarmed when he breaks down sobbing. They do their best to soothe him.

friendship fic is best fic end of story. (fic below the cut, no warnings)

“Hey Hardhat, think we could—“

“Now’s not a good time, Scooter. You run along now.”

“Yo, Snipes, you busy?”

“Yeah, actually. Got things to do. Sorry, mate.”

“Mumbles, what’s up?”

“Mmm-phm. Bmm!”

“Demo, what are you up to, man?”

“Defusing a bomb, lad, best you go on and leg it. Probably to the other end of the base. And maybe find some headphones.”

“Hey Soldier—“

“Not now, Cadet! I am currently engaged in a battle—of wills. Private Munches once again has fleas and they are very contagious. It is in your best interest to retreat now!”

“Hey Heavy—“

“Heavy is welding. Leetle Scout should leave.”

“Hey Doc—?”

“Nein. No, I don’t need to know what you were going to ask. I do not care.”

“Spy—?”

“Clearly you’re desperate if you’re trying to talk to me to find something to do.”

Scout puffed out a breath of air, slumping. “Look, I dunno either, okay? We get the first real break for the first time in like two months and all the guys still sit around acting like they have better shit to do.”

“Have you considered that they’ve also been looking forward to a break and have things they have been saving for that break?” Spy asked, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“I mean, maybe. But c’mon, it’s ridiculous! I’m not asking to like, go do a whole thing all day, I just wanna hang out a little bit!”

“A shame that I am busy,” Spy said, sighing in faux disappointment.

“With what?”

“Anything else.” He waved Scout off. “Go on. Get a hobby or something, something besides pestering all of the rest of us like some kind of annoying dog.”

Scout sulked, leaving and heading back to his own room.

The rest of their first day off, Scout ended up mostly messing around in his room. He flicked through some comics, got bored, flicked through some other comics, got bored, paced around for a while listening to a record before he lost interest in that too and wound up trying to take a nap. About five minutes after he laid down he realized that was gonna be a no-go, and he ended up so frustrated that he cleaned his whole room, right down to vacuuming under his bed. He was up until about two in the morning cleaning and putting stuff away before he realized what time it was and tried to lay down to go to sleep.

He finished cleaning after he went and grabbed breakfast for himself—kitchen entirely empty—and then was left standing in his room, looking around aimlessly for anything else to do. He rearranged his whole little bookshelf, sorting his comics by franchise then by hero then by issue.

He got lunch early. Kitchen empty. Halls quiet, only the sounds of machinery in the distance to tell him there was anyone else around.

By the time he finished eating, he was pretty much desperate for something to do, so he did rounds again to ask the team if anyone needed help with anything. He got a pretty harsh dressing-down from Engie about interrupting him when he was focusing hard on work, very important things. Soldier rambled and ranted at him for about twenty minutes, at which point Scout realized Soldier was barely even talking to him, and was mostly just talking to himself. He tried to track down Spy for an hour to try and ask to borrow his car so he could go into town and find literally anything to do, but the guy wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and he eventually gave up. He got desperate enough for something to do that he even went over to the infirmary, and was pretty sure he would be roped into some dumb experiment or something, but it turned out that Medic was stitching something into Heavy, so even that was a no-go.

So he just went back into his room again.

It had been kinda nice at first, having a place all to himself. As a kid he could count on his fingers how many times he was left alone in any capacity, and then as a teen he found peace and quiet to be pretty scarce. But then his brothers all graduated, and started moving out one by one, and he was left there pretty much alone, just him and Ma. And even then he was constantly surrounded by people, the walls thin in their apartment.

But then he moved out west for the job, and suddenly it was really freakishly quiet. And it kind of blew his mind at first, the quiet. He appreciated it. Especially considering most of the time all he had to do was go in the common room to find someone to talk to. He realized, with his pool of people he could potentially talk to so limited, that he was kind of a clingy person, needed to talk to people a lot.

He got lonely quick.

He remembered after he graduated, splitting up laundry into a once-a-week thing instead of a once-every-two-weeks thing just for the sake of having more time around other people, even if he wasn’t talking to them. Ma kinda got in his case sometimes for how much he would go get food somewhere besides at home, but he kinda had to, kinda needed to talk to someone else on the daily or else he started going stir-crazy. Started feeling bad and gross, started in with having all kinds of dumb ideas running through his head.

Mostly ideas like, maybe the team wasn’t that busy and they just made excuses and tried to seem busy because they didn’t like him. Ideas like, well he already knew that they didn’t like him, he was a lot younger than most of them and a hell of a lot stupider and they called him loud and annoying pretty much on the daily. Ideas like, none of them ever really talked to him besides during battle, and maybe they were just trying to be polite when they did talk to him, and when was the last time anyone asked how he was doing? Ideas like, maybe they really did just hate him. Ideas like, maybe a lot of people hated him. Ideas like, if literally everyone he talked to on a regular basis—all eight people—didn’t like him enough to hang out with him for a little while when they got their first break in forever...

Ideas like, did he really not have any friends? Ideas like, wasn’t that pretty pathetic? Ideas like, well, if he didn’t have any friends, if nobody liked him, did that maybe mean that he deserved it?

Scout stayed up staring out off into space and occasionally getting up and pacing around until about two in the morning.

-

Scout was up early the next day, and paced for just about the hour and a half in anticipation for his usual call home—once a week unless he said he wouldn’t be able to the week prior—before giving up on waiting and just calling early.

It got picked up in the middle of the fourth ring, and by then, Scout had already tangled the phone cord in his fidgeting.

“Hello?” came an immediately familiar voice, and he relaxed.

“Hey, Ma,” he greeted.

“J-Bear!” she practically gasped. “Honey, you’re two hours early. Why are you callin’, shouldn’t you be at work?”

“We’re on a break while some maintenence stuff is happening,” Scout explained, starting to untangle the cord. “And, y’know. I’m wicked bored.”

“All caught up on chores, then?” Ma asked, already the warning note in her voice that meant he might be in for a little bit of deserved nagging.

“Yeah, actually. Cleaned my room finally, all good on laundry, organized some stuff, all that,” he replied. “I was gonna do groceries, but my usual ride places is, uh... ghosting on me a little.”

“Well, are you getting enough to eat?” Ma asked next, sounding worried.

“Oh, no, yeah, I am,” he said quickly. “I’m just, y’know. I gotta eat like, canned beans and stuff like that for a while.”

“As long as you’re eating,” Ma said firmly.

And Scout went to say something else, to start going on about how he was so annoyed with his teammates, see, because they were all being total assholes, right? And then Ma would say something to him, and he’d feel better, because every time he told Ma about something that was going wrong he always walked away feeling better.

But Ma started talking again.

“Honey, I’m really sorry,” she started in, and it was clear that she meant it, and Scout’s heart dropped. “But I can’t really talk for long. I had plans today, and I’m already running late.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment due to the fact that his heart had suddenly jumped into his throat. “But Ma,” he said, brows furrowing, “what about the phone call?”

A short sigh. “I’m a little glad you called early, actually, that means I can ask you—would it be alright if we didn’t have our chat this week? It’s just that your older brother is finally stopping back in town for a little while—“

“Ma, which one?” he asked with a laugh, managing to fit some humor into his voice even as he forced it not to wobble.

“Oldest, sweetie. Anyways, I’m headed out to go meet him for lunch actually, and then we’re gonna come back to the house and chat and all, your niece is real excited to meet the cat, and I’d feel terrible if I left to go talk on the phone for an hour when I have guests over—“

“Yeah, Ma,” Scout said, bracing himself to lie through his teeth to his mother. “It’s totally fine. No worries. We’ll just talk next week, it’s no big deal.”

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetheart,” Ma said, and meant it, and Scout winced. “I love you, we’ll talk next week for sure, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Love you too,” he said. And he listened for the sound of the phone being put down, and he sighed, breath shaky on the exhale. He only put the phone down when it started to beep at him, and then continued to fiddle with the cord for a long while.

-

“The problem is that to send a bullet that far and that straight, the force needed is fairly strong. If you tried to fire this round out of a proper rifle, it might just explode in the barrel, mate,” Sniper explained, turning over the bullet in his fingers.

“So we fire one to test it,” Demo shrugged.

“Not out of my gun we won’t,” Sniper replied, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re aiming to send explosives long distances, best to just stick to rockets or canons or the like. Biggest boom you’d get shooting an explosive round like this anywhere over a hundred meters or so would just be a firecracker. It would just be distracting.”

“Distracting. Now there’s an idea,” Demo nodded, starting to scribble something down on the paper in front of him. “Now here’s a concept, lad; smoke rounds.”

Sniper considered that for a few seconds, tapping his own pencil against the side of the table. “As in proper smoke like a flare, or as in just some sort of, er, blocked visibility?”

“Either,” Demo shrugged.

“Again, anything too flammable would go off in the gun. Maybe some sort of,” he said, gestured loosely for a moment. “Maybe just a round full of some sort of fine powder that would go up when the casing shatters against a wall? Hell of a heavy round I think, probably need a special gun for it. What sort of powder like that wouldn’t be flammable?”

“Well, technically speaking, everything is flammable, if we want to get down to what the word flammable means,” Demo replied, pausing in his own writing. “But there’s a few things that might work. A good powder for that might even just be potassium bicarbonate, that’s easy enough to come by.”

“Why’s that?” Sniper asked.

“Well, most commonly it’s used in fire extinguishers,” Demo shrugged. “I imagine that could really do a number on someone else’s guns or machinery, as well. And I wouldn’t need to put in a budget request to our boss over it, I could just snag the spare canister we keep in the kitchen.”

“Tavish, how often do I tell you you’re a bloody genius?” Sniper asked, watching Demo scribble down some formulas with practiced ease.

“On the weekly, must be,” Demo replied.

“Might end up going over the regular amount during this project, because you’re an absolute bloody genius.”

“Thankin’ you kindly, lad,” Demo said, flashed him a grin.

A knock at the door to Demo’s work space. Sniper got up first, moving to open it.

“Oh. Hey, Snipes,” Scout said, looking surprised to see Sniper answering the door.

“G’day,” Sniper greeted, a little confused. He stepped aside to let Scout in, slightly befuddled.

“Hey, Demo,” Scout greeted, saw the spread of different papers and bullets across the table. “Uh, you guys workin’ on somethin’ in here? You busy?”

“Very,” Demo agreed, stretching his arms up over his head, back aching from being hunched over paper for a bit too long. “You need somethin’?”

“I, I mean, nah. Not really. Just wanted to see if you—uh, either of you guys—were free is all,” Scout shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets.

“We’re working on a project,” Sniper replied, moving to go take his own seat again.

“Trying to figure out the mechanics of a new kind of sniping round,” Demo elaborated. “We’ve just moved on to the part that’s all math and chemistry and physics and the like.”

“Yeah?” Scout asked, a little fidgety, a little awkward.

“Yeah,” Demo nodded. Picked up his pencil again. “Gonna be awfully boring, I imagine.”

“Especially since you don’t really have the head for this sort of thing,” Sniper said, a little jokingly, glancing up at Scout. “Might ask to use you for target practice with it later though, if you’re still bored around then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mundy,” Demo chided, then grinned. “Lad’s far too skinny. Even a marksman like you’d never be able to hit him, aye?”

Sniper laughed, and Demo laughed. And then they looked over at Scout, and Scout wasn’t laughing. He was just stood there, shifting nervously. Not the same kind of nervous as he got when he’d poked and prodded at Heavy a little too long and finally just got hefted up and put somewhere high up that he’d take a while to get down from, or the same kind of nervous as when Spy pulled his knife out and started flipping it open and closed during an argument, because both of those had an amount of “do it, I dare you” in them, an amount of “bet you won’t” in them.

But this time, Scout just looked tense. A little too wide-eyed, a little too avoiding-eye-contact. His chest rose and fell in a breath that looked far too deliberate and therefore awkward.

They both stopped laughing, just looking at him. “Lad, something the matter?” Demo asked, expression falling.

“Yeah, you awright, mate?” Sniper asked, turning in his chair to regard Scout.

Scout removed his hands from his pockets, fiddling for a few seconds. Then he looked up at Demo, then at Sniper, then at Demo again. He opened his mouth to say something.

He burst into tears.

Sniper startled, and Demo’s eye widened. They looked at each other, Demo largely with concern and Sniper with open alarm as Scout hunched forward, burying his face in his hands and crying openly.

A brief nonverbal argument took place, then Sniper was standing, moving over.

“Scout, mate,” he started gently, awkwardly, and after a second put a cautious hand on Scout’s shoulder. “Scout, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Scout moved to cling to Sniper’s shirt, tears redoubling, and Sniper stiffened, freezing up, eyes going a little wide. He shot a look at Demo that could not have more clearly read as “help me”.

Demo quickly rose, moving over. He put a hand on Scout’s shoulder to test the waters, and when Scout didn’t react poorly, he pulled the shorter man off of Sniper and into a hug. Scout crumpled into it immediately. Sniper settled for standing just to one side, patting Scout on the back once or twice.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Scout managed, and Demo shook his head, hugging all the tighter.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, lad. It’s alright. What’s got you so blue?” he asked, tone calm and level.

“Just—just, a lot, okay?” Scout managed, and Demo nodded, tucking Scout’s head under his chin after a second. “It’s just, everyone’s all busy doin’ important shit, and I’m just—just sitting around, and I wanna help, but everyone keeps telling me I’m bugging them and bein’ a fuckin’ nuisance, but I’m really bored and it’s really lonely out here and I—I miss Boston and I miss my family and I’m fuckin’ tired of eating whatever garbage we keep stocked in the kitchen but I can’t go into town because Spy’s being a dick and I can’t fuckin’ find him to borrow his keys, and I’m just...” He burrowed in closer to Demo, taking a shaky breath. “And now I’m bothering you guys while you’re working on something that actually matters.”

“You’re not,” Demo said right away, squeezing him tighter for a moment. “No expiration date on maths, aye?”

“And you’re not a bother,” Sniper added, tone dripping sincerity. He paused for a second. “It’s alright. I’m not going to be upset with you for talking to me.”

“Snipes, you and I both know I’m fuckin’ annoying,” Scout all but snapped, only lacking venom because he didn’t seem to have the energy for it.

“No,” Sniper replied, and exhaled. “You don’t annoy me. I like having you around. You... and Demo s’well I think,” he added, looking over at the Scotsman before glancing back away again. “You’re the best mates I’ve ever bloody had, awright?”

“Can’t imagine there was much competition for that, ya feckin’ hermit,” Demo said dryly, arching an eyebrow.

“Stuff it, Tavish,” Sniper scoffed, flushing, pulling his hat off and shoving it into Demo’s face, making him laugh. “Bugger off, ruining the moment. Absolute piker.”

“I’m still sorry,” Scout said, quieter now, and Demo and Sniper stopped their shenanigans for a moment to listen. “I just feel bad. I’m being a total baby, getting lonely when nobody talks to me for like, two days.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Demo shrugged. “Just means we need to watch out for you better, aye?”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Sniper and Demo looked at each other, then Sniper spoke.

“We really are working on something, but... you can hang about in here if you’d like,” he suggested lightly. “Might get boring and all, but it’s nothing classified.”

“Just tinkering,” Demo agreed. “Would that help at all?”

Scout nodded, sniffled. “Okay.” He paused for a few moments before he finally pulled away from Demo, wiping his eyes with the his forearm self-consciously, unable to maintain eye contact. “I appreciate it, guys. Really. You guys are the best.”

“No worries,” Sniper said, and gave him a parting pat on the back before he went to pull up the spare chair, situating it between he and Demo’s chairs before sitting back down. Scout took a seat, pulled his legs up onto it to sit cross-legged, and looked down at the papers.

“What were we saying, potassium bicarbonate?” Demo prompted, taking his own seat.

“Right. Might need to talk to Heavy about using his welding materials, but we’d need a real finnicky piece of tech to make the thing without making a bloody mess,” Sniper said.

“And it can’t be from a standard press, we’d want to go for extra precision on a bullet that’ll be going through a sniper rifle,” Demo agreed. “Might need to talk to the Engineer, ask for an hour or two in his shop to borrow his metal casting nonsense.”

“Maybe. Does that, er, potassium carbon whatsit, does it melt down?”

Scout just sat and fiddled with the bullets on the table while they talked, and eventually snagged a piece of paper that wasn’t being used and started to doodle idly. And Demo and Sniper could both tell pretty soon that his mood had improved significantly, shoulders squaring and head being held higher even as he hunched over his piece of paper. And for the rest of their break, Scout took to sitting with either Demo or Sniper while they worked on various things, and at the end of their break, on the last day before they headed back to work, Sniper borrowed Engie’s keys to his truck and the three of them went out to get the greasiest fast food they could find.

And Scout felt better. Really, honestly, better.

[costeausunset]

What I played this month: October 2020, Part 2/2

Part 1

GIF by me (except for The Evil Within 2, I was to lazy...)

They bleed pixels, 2012, developed and published by Spooky Squid Games Inc, ~10 euros:

A young girl picks up a haunted book, becomes purple while swords replace her hands and she is now on a quest to kill the force of evil… I mean that's one of the best resumes I've seen for some time. The game is a hack and slash and platformer. As per the resume, the ambiance is really special, with the aesthetic and music. However this game isn’t for everyone, it’s definitely for more experienced players and even then you might still have issues finishing the game. The original difficulty of the game would be the equivalent of a difficult to very difficult scale. From what I saw this causes a lot of trouble for some players and the dev added an easy level, which is, for me, way too easy. So here I was stuck between almost no challenge, or stuck with levels that sometimes almost made me gauge my eyes out. For me, the main problem of the game is the platform part. You control a character that goes very fast, through levels that require precision and carefulness. You have three lives, but let’s be honest, you either die by falling in a pit, in which case, the three lives don’t matters, or you get hit by an enemy, which throws the character off in a nearby saw, which throw her right back at the ennemy, who hit her again, and bam your dead.  

I honestly didn’t have the patience to finish the game. I honestly recommend you watch a playthrough or try a demo of the game before buying it.  

Detention, 2017, developed and published by RedCandleGames, ~12 euros:

This game was a nice surprise! I bought it because I liked the artstyle, and I noped out of it back when I first started it because I didn’t realize it was a horror game. But just for this month, I started again, and I’m really happy I did! The story takes place in Taiwan during the white period. You control two students, Wei and Rin who are stuck, alone, in their high school during a storm, but not everything is as it seems. Soon enough Rin will wake up and find Wei dead, and in the middle of a dilapidated school occupied by evil spirits. The game is a point and click, you go forward solving puzzles. The puzzles are well organized, as is the level design, you will never find yourself lost for 20 minutes wondering where you need to go. The story is very interesting, but it takes some time to understand where the game is taking you. I would say you start to understand what happened half-way through (the game is 3 hours long). I would also recommend replaying the game or watching a playthrough after you finished it to really get the full extent of it. The horror in the game falls on the presence of the evil spirits and the fact that you don’t know what is happening, but once you start to understand, the horror feeling kind of disappears from the game, around the last hour, but I think this was wanted by the developers. What I really like about this game is that it shows you the real horrors of life are the ones that happen around us and who are perpetrated by other humans, and not the ones created by a common imaginary. I really recommend this game, but I think you should read a bit on the historical context before (you can find the info on the wikipedia page of the game!)

Speed dating for ghosts, 2018, developed and published by Copychaser Games, ~6 euros: 

It’s a dating sim but with ghosts! I really enjoyed this game, you essentially speed date ghosts. Each of them has a really different story, a different way that they react to their death, and their new life as ghosts. Some stories are funny or hopeful, others are heart wrenching. There is also a dog ghost that you can pet! Which is one of the best arguments in favor of you playing this game! There is nothing to say more about it, just go and play it!

Sagebrush, 2018, developed and published by Redact Games, ~6 euros:

It’s a short point and click game. The game takes place in an abandoned small village who harbored a cult. You will be able to visit the common areas, the church, the cult leader home… in order to discover what happened in this place, how these people got enrolled in the cult and how they all died, how was their day to day life,.... The gameplay is really simple, it’s just a point and click, the puzzles are also really simple. But it doesn’t really matter as I feel like the main subject of the game is first and foremost the story, explaining how a cult works, how it indoctrinates people and how it can lead them to do things most people would never do while in their right mind. For me the game addressed the subject well, going right to the point and showing how a cult can slowly but surely, go into more and more extremist views, without necessarily condemning the members of said cult. If you are interested in things related to cults or you want to learn about it, you should play this game!

The Evil Within 2, developed by Tango Gameworks and published by Bethesda, 2018, ~30 euros:

It’s a psychological horror game. You play the detective Sebastian Castellanos who’s thrown into a programmed town to retrieve his daughter. This town has been programmed as a sort of parallel dimension that can be inhabited by humans via linked consciousness. However, the town collapsed, and when you arrive most of the inhabitants have been turned into zombies. 

So for starters, I like how the game induces horror, with the music, sound design, the position of the character who’s hiding a good part of the screen, the fact that he is slow even when running… The level design is simple but it works even if I’m not convinced by the use of an open world in a horror game. The level up of the character and the weapons is intuitive but a bit bland. You have several weapons available, but the game limits your ammunition. They are all common except the crossbow! Ah, the crossbow! I love this weapon! You have different kinds of bolts with different effects: lighting, smoke, bomb… The design of the enemies is, in my opinion, fairly usual for a zombie horror game but effective.

However, the story and characters are a bit bland in my opinion. The pitch of the story, of both The Evil Within games, is very interesting in my opinion, but I think it was better explored in the first game. The rest of the story is really not that interesting, it consists of go-to point A to point B. The only character I found interesting was Stefano (but honestly it’s probably because I’m a bit weird and I can relate to the idea of doing anything for your art, even killing… Even if I would never do that…) the other characters feel very caricatural, they have a two-line background that doesn’t even need to be there, and they are only there to help Sebastian advance the story, none of them have other goals or interests which ended up in one-dimensional characters without any flavor. Even the relationship between Sebastian and his family feels very empty.  

I would only recommend this game if you are interested in a good horror game and not in a good story.

[huynah]

WANTED SHIP PLOTS. 

   lately i have been thinking about very specific plots for my muses and they aren’t exactly ones that i can just reblog into my wishlist or whatever but they are very unique to my girls. so i’ve decided to compile all of those plots here, in hopes that someone will see this list and want to do one, two or five. if you want to do any of the plots under the cut with my girlies, please just im me and we can go from there!! these are basically my ultimate ship plots for them that i will actually kill a man for.

**all lesbian plots are highly selective and will only continue if we plot things out extensively and i feel comfortable with roleplaying with you**

PARK AERI. 25. HETEROSEXUAL. MODEL/ACTRESS.

the classic arranged marriage/engagement plot. maybe the son of her father’s business partner? they decide it will be a good business deal for them (and ofc aeri’s mother would agree cause it will make aeri even more of a hot topic) and like maybe the guy needs to fix his image so they’re thrown together. the feeling doesn’t have to be mutual but aeri will probably hate him and make it known but she will also like warm up to him. 

beauty and the bodyguard aka he’s her bodyguard and maybe she gets drunk one night and comes on to him but he just takes her home. but then gets cocky the next day and teases her about it and that will probably build up tension for aeri so they end up sleeping together. but then it happens again and again and it becomes a cycle until they’re left with figuring out what the hell they’re gonna do esp when photos are released by the press of the two of them being cozy. 

aeri is lowkey a big nerd so maybe she goes to the one bookstore frequently and has kinda developed a friendship with the owner/worker and they’re like the only person in the world that kind of sees her being herself and idk maybe he asks her on a date and shes like *blushes* 

literally any plot where she falls in love with a bad boy like maybe he’s a killer or a gang member but like she gets turned on by it because she’s literally the worst

LEE EUNJIN. 21. BISEXUAL. ASPIRING ACTRESS.

forever wanting roommate plots for her because it’s just funny and your muse will get a kick out of seeing her in her natural habitat failing to Function

tbh i wouldn’t mind something where she ends up dating a single parent? like eunjin is literally a child herself and if she really likes the person she will want to make it work even if it means putting on a diaper backwards or something 

DO BORA. 19. QUESTIONING. MED STUDENT.

her first gay experience?? yes please?? like bora is the purest baby ever and like having a crush on a girl will be the softest thing ever and it would be so sweet if she had a girlfriend who kinda takes her under her wing and shows her the gay way. she will be the most flustered lil angel 

i really want maybe a ghost/bora plot or something? she’s a clairvoyant and can see ghosts and she’s also like a magnet for supernatural things and has been all her life so it would be interesting for her to like idk fall in love with a ghost

literally any supernatural creature x bora ship makes me excited. 

your muse works at the hospital she is interning at as an entertainer in the childrens ward or something and they cross paths often and their first unofficial date is them eating vending machine food at 3am while she’s on a 14 hour shift and then it turns to them sneaking into the janitors closet and her turning to them when she loses her first patient etc. 

CHA MUHYEON. 24. HETEROSEXUAL. GOVERNMENT ASSASSIN/AGENT.

they both work for the government and are assigned to do an undercover mission where they need to be husband and wife in a neighbourhood to gather intel or something and they basically end up actually being a married couple and falling in love

a life as we know it plot where they went on a blind date set up by their friends who happen to be a couple years before and it was shit, they end up despising each other. flash forward and that friend couple are married and have a baby that they are the god parents of. those friends die in a crash and they’re left to raise their child. 

childhood best friend who is like her bro that she gets fake engaged to just to shut her parents up and to make it seem like she has a normal life and it’s like awkward for them to kiss and stuff but ofc they end up falling in love.

a bad boy criminal who finesses her and she falls in love with him when working his case and now theres a major conflict of interest because oh no he’s really bad. 

THEODORA. 26. BISEXUAL. MECHANIC. 

roommates to lovers please and thank you. like they would have to be a bro kind of person for her to get along with and like imagine if they are both pretty broke so they only have a studio apartment to share with one bed. 

younger!teddy moves in across the street for the summer with her family. falls in love with your muse for the summer but they need to part ways, only for her to be bit by a werewolf on the day she was supposed to leave. she needs to stay in town to be part of her pack so she ends up still living across the street and your muse is like ?? and she explains it. basically human significant other x an adjusting werewolf pls. 

PARK NARI. 26. HETEROSEXUAL. EX IDOL/SONGWRITER.

maybe a boy that she grew up playing baseball with since that was pretty much her childhood and they reunite years later after she debuted and also fell from the spotlight as an idol idk?

a fake engagement plot between her and a work colleague since her mother is always pressuring her to be a wife and have kids so she decides to take matters into her own hands and fakes it to get her off her back. fails to realize she needs to actually pretend to be in love with this person and things get awkward at work. 

maybe an old trainee/idol friend who she hasn’t seen since she debuted years ago gets signed to her company and walks into her office one day to record a demo for a song that she was working on. maybe the song was written about them. maybe she was in love with them??

MOON OCTAVIA. 22. QUESTIONING. ART STUDENT.

childhood best friends/neighbours who wave grown up together and have been inseparable since birth? like they have basically been dating all their lives just without the kissing and stuff: girlfriends have always been jealous of her or threatened even though everyone in town has accepted they are like this. going into college she gets into witchcraft and puts a love spell on him after realizing she has a case of Feelings. plot twist: the spell doesn’t work on them because they are already in love with her. also their parents are best friends too and provide funny commentary and her dad is actually surprised they end up together even tho the other parents have been rooting for them.

basically she’s the school’s big old virgin and gets made fun of a lot for it and maybe there’s a jock who makes a bet with his buddies where they are like “i bet u won’t be able to take her v card” so he starts dating her as a bet. but falls in love with her. lots of angst when she finds out. 

okay but also something like buffy the vampire slayer where she’s like willow aka the witch and your muse is like xander aka the human friend and idk i have some ideas (may have lowkey written a fanfiction that was a the 100 x btvs cross over and that is what octavia is based off of)

another first gay experience would be great for this lil bean. she’s another one who would get flustered and shy over having a crush on a girl and stuff.

TEACHER X STUDENT PLOT TOO!! 

ANDROMEDA LEE. 24. BISEXUAL. CRIMINAL. 

an inmate x guard relationship like in s1 of orange is the new black but she doesn’t end up pregnant with a baby (or maybe she does who knows) and maybe they end up living happily ever after once she gets out. 

someone she does shady stuff with who has kinda always had her back even though they have gotten in trouble doing things together but still. 

good boy/girl bad girl but they find out that at heart she is actually a good girl.

[fabrayonthetrax]

Miami, Of All Places

Tagging → Quinn Fabray [with mentions of Noah Puckerman] Time Frame → June 2013.  Location →  A Certain Airport, FL General Notes → [prompt]

She couldn’t recall the exact time, but it was well past  ‘why the fuck am I still awake’ but too soon for ‘why the fuck am I up so early’. The yawn that threatened to unhinge her jaw told her coffee was going to be essential, and soonish, if she needed to stay alert enough to actually board the flight that’d been delayed twice already, thanks to a freak storm that damn near rattled the glass windows at Miami International. 

It would be her luck, getting stuck in an airport, in Miami of all places while a goddamn summer storm threatened to ground every flight out for the next six hours, when of course, she needed to be back in Los Angeles for a crucial meeting between an up-and-coming artist that Jami had entrusted to her, to handle and sign for the company. She’d been sweet-talking the musician for weeks, dinners and attending shows, dangling a choice contract in front of the starving creative who, despite the hunger for fame was also a greedy little shit who decided a hold-out was better than giving in, determined to see exactly what else he could squeeze out of Levi Music Management. 

It annoyed Quinn, being at the beck and call of an admittedly talented but also admitted jackass of a human being, but it was the business and she was still a grunt. A lowly talent scout still trying to make her mark and please her boss. Even if that meant taking her chances on an epic rainstorm at ass early o’clock in the morning. 

Her butt had grown numb from chilling on the floor in the airport, tablet perched in her lap while she scrolled weather updates in between not watching whatever Netflix was playing. It was making her anxious, the not-knowing. She didn’t much mind red eye flights when she was actually prepared but she should have been back in LA hours ago for a show that, judging from the time on her phone was most likely on its last legs, and she’d have to explain to Jami why she wasn’t there finally convince this talented jackass to sign with the agency. 

Quinn took comfort in the fact that everyone else in the seating area looked just as over it as she felt, most sprawled out over chairs or curled up against bags, waiting for the announcement that would send them scrambling for the gate. It was only after stifling another jawbreaker of a yawn did she decide getting up was necessary, needing the jolt that would only come from moving around. 

And a really large coffee. 

She was thankful for the Givenchy travel bag that served as her suitcase, gripping the soft leather handles and tugging it on her shoulder. Far easier than lugging around something with wheels, especially through the airport. It felt like a ghost town, the usual hustle and bustle one would find at any given time during the day had slowed considerably, allowing for the hollow echo of her ankle boots clicking sharply against the tiled floor to seem even louder in the relative hum of silence. 

There was something eerily pleasant about airports in the wee hours that Quinn could appreciate. The seemingly endless rush of activity in the daytime eventually crawled to a more manageable pace. People were even cheerier, or at least too tired, too dazed to be dickish. The barista at Starbucks flashed her a well meaning smile when Quinn fought another yawn, but managed a raspy thanks once her cup was nestled in her hand. The fragrant Pike Place roast was already working its magic, robust enough for a smooth burst of energy, with the extra shots of caramel and vanilla satisfying her late night sweets craving. It would be enough to tide her over until landing in L.A. 

Hopefully. 

Coffee in hand, Quinn wandered back to the gate, this time settling in an empty chair a little ways away from the other would be passengers. Bag in her lap, she fished out her phone from her jacket pocket. There wasn't a need to check her messages, given the time, but it didn't stop her from scrolling through her inbox or the typical social medias. Anything to keep the travel anxiety from having time to settle in. The unknown of whether or not she’d be able to make it back home bothered her, especially with the possibility of losing a potential client on the line.

A small sip of her coffee soothed her a bit, but didn't stop her thumb’s relentless beat on the side of her slim smartphone and before her brain even realized what was happening and could put a stop to it, her fingers had seized the moment and scrolled through her contacts, hitting call on number she hadn't dialed in a minute. 

Her reasons for that were few but solid ones. Their schedules had long been out of sync, thanks to work and a different zones. And though these very things were the cause of end, their recent interactions weren't as strained as they were before the breakup. No ugly cloud of obligation or guilt behind that feeling looming over her head. 

And while he was no longer her boyfriend, she could still remember how much she loved having him as a friend.

Calling him late at night was a gamble. It occurred to her he was most likely sleeping, and maybe not alone. She resisted the urge to frown at that, instead taking another slow pull from her coffee, hazel eyes darting around as the phone continued to ring. She knew there was a small chance he was awake, probably caught up watching some cheesy action flick or thought-provoking documentary he would no doubt ramble on about because he always had so many thoughts on so many things and Quinn realized that it was one of his many quirks she really appreciated. 

The way he could turn anything into an epic Odyssey-like tale, making the most out of the mundane well a sharp quip, hard glare, or a loud grumble. She missed that. It was certainly handy for those late nights when she couldn’t sleep, too wired from a night out, or just missing him. And Quinn had another realization, the routine of calling him up when it was late, the habit of it all, the comfort it brought. 

Lost in thought, she was only jarred from the jaunt down memory lane at the sound of a voice that didn’t belong to Puck. It was not the greeting she was expecting, nor the tone, formal and generic while urging the caller to leave a voice message. She’d already prepared herself for his ‘hey’, slightly raspy from sleep, or tinged with distraction thanks to whatever had caught his attention on screen. Hell, she would have settled for disinterested, anything better than the sterility of the automated service. 

With a small sigh, Quinn ended the call, sinking a bit lower in the seat and soothing the ball of nerves that settled heavily in her stomach with a gulp of her still-warm coffee. She sent him a quick text, apologizing for the ‘accidental dial’ and wished him a good night, hoping that would be enough to excuse the lapse in judgment.

Stuck in that airport, in Miami of all places with the next five or six hours filled with uncertainties, maybe she was wishing for the comfort of something familiar. The voice of someone she still knew so well, who could distract her from the miserable weather and too-quiet conditions. It’d been a long shot, but now she was stuck with a book she’d been trying to read for two weeks now, or the demos she should have listened to, three days ago. 

Neither was all that appealing, far too much brain power that seemed impossible for the hour. So she settled for shutting her eyes, her grip still tight on her bag as her mind drifted, not too far though, because she still managed to feel the buzz of the phone not ten minutes later, lips eventually twitching with the faintest of smiles at the message that appeared. 

night, Whiskey Lips.

So it wasn’t his voice, but it was enough to calm her considerably, arguably better than the coffee and Quinn shifted back into a comfortable position in the chair as her eyes drifted shut once more, mellow but still alert enough to make moves once her flight began to board. Which would hopefully be soon. She wasn’t worried though. 

Even if it was in Miami, of all places.  

[doomedandstoned]

Life Disintegrates

A Chat with Goya's Jeff Owens

~Interview and Concert Pics by Leanne Ridgeway~

                Before we get to the new tidbits, how are you and how are you digging the new Goya line-up?

Hey! Things are going great.   We just got done with a short hiatus from shows to record our new album, and we’re getting back into the swing of things.   I started Goya when I was in a different band, because I wanted to do something a little heavier and a lot slower.   Nick joined a couple of years later and Sonny joined up last year.   The first time I met Nick was actually the first time he came to jam with us.   Sonny had filled in at short notice on a tour with us in 2014, and we’re very happy to have him as a mainstay, finally.   It’s been a long time coming.

For several releases you’ve worked with Laney Oleniczak in creating album artwork -- all gorgeous collaborations, by the way.   Are there other artists whose work you drawn inspiration from?

Yeah, Laney did a great job on the Nothin’ but Dead Stuff 7” and Obelisk.   Nothin’ but Dead Stuff is definitely one of my favorite covers of ours.

Hunter Hancock has been instrumental in crafting the imagery of Goya.   He painted the cover for 777, and designed one of our earliest and best-selling t-shirts.   We enlisted his artistic talent once again to do all of the art and layout for Harvester of Bongloads, which was definitely the right choice.

As far as other artists, there are honestly too many out there to put in a concise list.   If I had my druthers, we would have Skinner and Arik Roper doing artwork for us.   Maybe one day!

Last October, Goya self-released a battering four-song EP Doomed Planet through your own label, Opoponax Records, along with three other releases -- all in 2016 -- and now the new LP, Harvester of Bongloads, which just released.   How much pressure do you put on yourselves to record new music?

We’re always trying to move forward.   Usually, by the time we have a release out, we already have three or four new songs we’re working on for the next one.   Honestly, this is the first time that hasn’t happened.   We literally have zero new material at the moment.   There’s still a chance that that will change, though!

All that being said, we don’t really put pressure on ourselves, per se; we just work on new material as it comes.   I think we all (“we all” being musicians) probably enjoy working on new music the most, so that’s the main pressure.   We just want to keep having fun.

Harvester Of Bongloads by Goya

Do you and the other guys have a disciplined method for writing new material or do new songs grow fluently from a jam session?

I am a songwriter at heart, so usually I have everything pretty fleshed out by the time I bring it to the band.   Sometimes I’ll even record demos on my own and send them out.   Things do tend to take on a life of their own, of course, when other minds get involved, which is great.  I suck at drums, so when I record drums for a demo, there are a lot of things I can’t do.   And with the bass, Sonny and I have a similar bass style, but he definitely plays some things differently than I would, so it really helps to create a sound that is nothing like what I would have done on my own.   Now that the band is caught up with where I’m at writing for the first time ever, I’m excited to see where things go!

What do you personally consider to be the most insightful moments while writing and recording Harvester of Bongloads, and what is your favorite moment on the album?

To be honest, I think that there is a lot about this record that is the most dumbed-down, primitive version of Goya, so I’m not sure there is a moment that I can consider to be extremely insightful.   One thing I can say is that "Omen" took four years to write and it only truly started to come together in the month or two before we hit the studio.

We were still tweaking things on that tune in the studio, in fact.   There is a lot of that song that is very different from the way we were playing it a year ago, and it is much better for it.   Originally, the bass and drums were doing the exact same thing the guitar is doing in the beginning of the song, and it was super boring.   I have some demos of it, and I cringe when I listen to them.

At one point, I talked to Sonny and told him that he should write a more engaging bassline, one that Nick could write a drum part to.   Once they got their parts together, it allowed me even more freedom in my part.   Then I started to write additional parts that went with some of the stuff they had added to the song.

The lesson there is that a three-piece is best when everyone is doing their own thing that is engaging, but still goes with what the other two are doing. I hesitate to call that insightful, because it’s sort of a, “Well yeah, duh!” statement.

As far as a favorite song, I think we all like “Disease” the most, though I really enjoy the “Fade Away” section of “Omen,” as it’s the only time we’ve done something like that so far.

Back to the Opoponax Records label, for a minute.   Would you share the story on why you started our own label?   How do you balance the scale in being both the owner of a music business and a musician?   Is it easier or more frustrating to be the one in control of the result?

There isn’t much of a story to why I started the label, honestly.   It was out of necessity.   I wanted 777 to come out on vinyl.   I looked into how much it would cost, realized I could afford it at the time, and started Opoponax Records.

Opoponax is a really small operation, so it’s not too difficult to manage.   I don’t even think of myself as a business owner, to be honest.   I still have a day job, and that is the most difficult thing to balance in the equation.   The hardest thing about balancing Opoponax and Goya is worrying that an unruly customer is a Goya fan.   I’m sure fellow record label guys will know what I’m talking about when I say that some customers can be rather difficult and demanding.   I’m kind of a take-no-shit type of person, but I also want to keep people happy, especially if they’re fans.   That being said, when someone is being a real asshole, I’m not going to cave in to their bullshit, and I imagine that makes Goya lose some fans here and there.

There are obviously things that are easier and things that are harder in taking care of a release 100% on my own.   Overall, I think it’s easier, as I enjoy retaining control over the art and packaging as it is.   We’ve had some stellar-looking releases come out from other labels that I’m very grateful for, but to say that everything has always gone 100% smoothly with them would be a lie.   We’re definitely on good terms with every label we have worked with, but there is always some level of compromise when you work with a label.   Whether or not the compromise is worth it always comes down to what the label can offer that I can’t do myself.

At this point in the game, I feel that I can do anything the labels we have worked with so far can, but I am hopeful that the next Goya record (whenever that happens) will be with someone who can bring something new to the table.

Opoponax Records also just released their first non-Goya record with the new Toke 12”.  Do you plan to expand the label’s distribution roster or was this a one-time thing?

It wasn’t a one-time thing.   I have a Grey Gallows release coming out this year, as well (hopefully in April).   However, I am very picky about what I will put out, mostly because I can’t afford to do much.   I started this label to release Goya records, so I have to make sure that nothing I put out is going to hold up the Goya release schedule.   2017 is already booked solid, in terms of what I’m putting out, and I’ve had to turn down a few people.

I actually just turned down a release today that I would have loved to do, simply because it would have held them up for a long time.   Nobody wants their record put out a fucking year from the day they make an agreement!

I’ve wanted to run a record label since I was young, and I’m finally doing it.   I hope things continue to go well and I’m able to sustain this for years to come!   Perhaps one day, Goya will be on a better label, and I’ll be able to put out only other bands.

Goya is heading out shortly for an “East Coast Weekend Disaster” tour with Aneurysm, Toke, and several other bands (which us North Eastern people are thrilled about, by the way). What are your touring plans beyond these dates?

We have a West Coast tour this month. Other than that, that’s all we are really able to talk about. We definitely plan on hitting it harder this year than we have before and harder every following year.

What’s been the best show you’ve play so far with Goya?

Psycho Las Vegas, hands down.   Crowd response played a huge part in that.   There really is nothing like being in a room full of people that are all there to have a good time, and are really enjoying themselves.   When the crowd has energy, it’s really easy to feed off of that energy, and it helps our performance a lot.   The Vinyl stage at Hard Rock Hotel is a killer venue, as well, and we had people running sound that did a terrific job.   We’re so grateful that we were afforded that opportunity.   We would be more than happy to do it again any time.

What about the worst, or the strangest, experience you’ve had at one of your own shows?

Hmm, probably a show with Slow Season in Tucson at The Bashful Bandit.   That was a few years ago and surely the show would do better now with both bands playing there, but it was a total ghost town, and felt kind of awkward.   We really like Slow Season, though, so at least we got to hang out with them and watch them play!   Always a pleasure.   Get back at us in a few years and we’ll probably have a worse story!

On a personal note, I know you’ve made the choice, somewhat recently, to go sober.   Many folks find that a difficult thing to maintain, particularly in the music industry and the "stoner rock" realm.   How has this lifestyle change affected your perspective on your music and goals for Goya or Opoponax Records?

It honestly hasn’t affected those things much.   Before I quit smoking, I had already decided that we were going to make Harvester our last weed-worship album, but also make it our best one.   I have a desire for things to mature.   That desire is evident on Obelisk, where there is not a single drug reference.   Another thing that has changed is the Opoponax Records weed-a-gram logo.   But, again, that is something that I had already wanted to change back when I was still smoking, so it really is all coincidental timing.

I went sober during a bad breakup.   I was absolutely crushed and incapacitated for about three days, and it was the first three days I had been sober in a while, so I figured I would just ride it out.   I say “sober,” but I really was only smoking weed.   I’ve never been a legitimate addict.   I just realized that I was always irritable when I couldn’t smoke, mostly because I love smoking so much, so I figured that if I cut it out entirely, I wouldn’t be as irritable.   The jury’s still out on that one, to be honest.   I think I’m just a pissed off dude, in general.

If funds were no object and Goya had their pick of active bands to play with, where have you always wanted to play and who are the bands you want in the lineup?

Roadburn is probably at the top of that list.   Touring that whole area of the world is definitely a goal.   There are so many bands it would be great to play with, big and small.   High on Fire, Valkyrie, Metallica, Sleep, Ozzy, Baroness, Soundgarden, Iron Maiden, Orchid, and on and on.

How do you think venues, labels, and bands could work better together to get a solid crowd turnout and record/merchandise sales?

As far as labels, just promotion in general.   Strong internet presence seems to be the name of the game right now.   For bands, I think just doing your best all of the time with everything you do, as though every time you play your instrument, it will be the last time, because one of those times, it definitely will be!

What is the most important thing a newer band should do to get themselves heard?

Put out an album on vinyl, and contact as many blogs as possible with a free digital copy and all of the release info.

Massive thanks, Jeff, for taking a few moments to visit with the Doomed & Stoned readers -- and, of course, to Goya for kicking our eardrums into oblivion!   Parting words?

Don’t let people waste your time.

Follow The Band.

Get Their Music.

Goya On Tour

If you’re lucky enough to be where Goya is playing, get your ass to a show!

March 9th – The Flycactcher - Tucson, AZ March 10th – Yucca Taproom - Phoenix, AZ March 11th – Soda Bar - San Diego, CA March 12th – Complex - Glendale, CA March 13th – Elbo Room - San Francisco, CA March 15th – High Water Mark - Portland, OR March 16th – Funhouse - Seattle, WA March 17th – The Shredder - Boise, ID March 18th – Club X - Salt Lake City, UT March 19th – Beauty Bar – Las Vegas, NV March 20th – The Green Room – Flagstaff, AZ

[circlesandsoundwaves]

The Time I Cried at Riot Fest: by Nakul Agrawal

Words by Nakul Agrawal, musician at Palliate. Photo of Taking Back Sunday by Greg Hunter.

In September of 2014, I drove 800 miles with my four best friends to attend my first multi-day festival: Riot Fest in Chicago. I remembered looking in awe at the lineup for the previous year: Fall Out Boy, blink-182, AFI and Taking Back Sunday all in one place?! 2014 was shaping up to be even better: Rise Against, The Offspring, Silverstein and New Found Glory, among many others. It seemed practically tailor-made to my tastes at the time. Now that I was done with college and actually had free time, I would finally be able to experience it.

The only potential issue was that, in the year leading up to Riot Fest 2014, I was growing increasingly dependent on drugs. At the time, I favored the pharmaceutical oxymorphone, commonly known as Opana. Crushing and snorting one of these pills initially served to banish my anxiety and self-consciousness; make me comfortable, talkative, and social; and generally bury my otherwise crippling self-loathing. Over the first several months of 2014 those effects became less and less pronounced, though. As I increased my dosage to compensate, I was fully aware I was a drug addict, but had no real exit plan. Attempts to stop brought on terrifying and debilitating withdrawal- so, I continued snorting Opana and reasoned that I'd figure something out in the future. Whatever.

The night before the festival, my best friend Marcin made the rounds in our town and picked all our other friends up. I was the last stop: I quickly snorted an Opana in my basement, then got into Marcin's car to head for the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

We arrived at our AirBnB in Chicago some 12 hours later. By now it was morning- time to head to the park. I did not bring any pills with me on the drive, reasoning that I should be able to last 24 hours until I could pick up the pills I had express mailed a night earlier to the address we were staying (concealed in a stack of demo CDs for my band at the time, of course). I was wrong.

I lasted literally one set. It was raining, cold, and muddy. Title Fight put on a fantastic show, despite the unease I felt growing in the pit of my stomach. I walked over to the stage where Senses Fail was line-checking, trying to distract myself to no avail. Before they could launch into "Tie Her Down", this indescribable dread had completely filled me. I practically ran to the street choking back vomit, took a cab back to the house, and curled up under sheets. I missed seeing The Offspring and Rise Against with my best friends that night - my favorite bands since I was 12 years old - because of drugs, and I'll never forget that disappointment and anger.

My Opana came in the mail that night. Those pills, combined with Valium I had procured from a cab driver, soothed any chemical-related concerns I had. The next day started out amazingly: I ran in circles in the mud to Anti-Flag, stared on in amazement at The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die (I had never heard them before, OK?), and jumped around at The Used. One of the last sets would be Taking Back Sunday. As their set time approached, though, I felt the concentration of Opana in my bloodstream steadily dropping. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as the first night, but the hallmark anxiety and depression began to creep back in.

Something happened about halfway through Taking Back Sunday's set. I was dancing, crowd-surfed to "Cute Without the E", and generally adequately occupied with the show until the band launched into "Better Homes and Gardens." Right after the first verse I remember the feelings of withdrawal growing slightly more apparent. I focused on the stage, trying to shake it off, and Adam Lazzara quietly sang, "You'll never be happy."

"You'll never be happy." It seemed to knowingly highlight all the fun I was trying to have as a shitty cover-up for what I had become: a miserable 21-year old whose life was completely dictated by drugs. I had never before felt so broken. You can play all this music, go to shows with your friends, attempt to pursue whatever it is that you think drives you. In reality, you are Opana's bitch. You'll never be happy. I was instantly sobbing.

I remember Marcin glancing over at me confused, asking, "Are you okay?". I nodded back to him and smiled weakly. Taking Back Sunday finished their set; the next day, the festival was over, and we all went back to our lives. My life did not improve. I continued the usual story of a drug addict, eventually moving on to IV-ing heroin regularly and experiencing more misery than ever before. That moment during "Better Homes and Gardens" was always firmly lodged in the back of my head, though, as the first time I realized I might never really be happy.

I'm clean today, having moved from New Jersey to Florida. I've even seen Taking Back Sunday here once since quitting drugs, about a year and a half after Riot Fest 2014. Amusingly, it was an employee of the rehab I went to named Dave that took me to see them. He loved Tell All Your Friends and Louder Now, but wasn't familiar with Happiness Is…. We sang along to "What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost?", "Liar", and "Last Summer"- all the hits. Eventually the intro to "Better Homes and Gardens came through the PA", and I just stood and watched.

Dave turned around to me, looking disappointed. "I wish they played more old stuff. Like, do you even know this one?"

"Yeah, it's actually a great song."

He wasn't convinced, and that's okay.

Editor’s Note: If you’re struggling, please reach out for help. Find local resources for your area here. If you’re in a crisis, call 1-800-273-TALK or text “START” to 741741; worldwide, contact any of the hotlines listed here.