Hey guys I know its 3am and I gotta be up in 6 hours but uh

Yeah just dropping this here and running ty, probably not gonna do much more but I liked the idea 👍🏼💖💖💖💖💖 (also just looking at it now i realized i forgot to draw the headphone cord hrnshxbf oops ignore that)

Algiophobia ┈┈┈┈․° 2

ˊˊ𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚..ˊˊ

.

🇲 🇴 🇳 🇩 🇦 🇾

ˊˊSchool sucks huh?.."

I looked up at the strange person, holding my book bag tight, weird thing to do, especially with a stranger. I don't know you..

ˊˊ Yeah.. Thankfully, we're done with exams and stuff.. Today's the last day.ˊˊ

ˊˊ Well, I'm glad you made it.ˊˊ

I looked up at them, blinking slowly while a smile spreading on my face, ˊˊ Thank you.ˊˊ I said. They only nodded, I guess it was a You're Welcome.

I looked down at my phone, seeing no notifications as usual. I huffed, looking back up a far waiting for the bus to at least some what come. ˊˊ They drive so slow..ˊˊ I groaned, looking back down at my phone, deciding to at least scroll on tiktok or Pinterest.

Maybe I should skip school today...

But that's very bad.

Very, very, very.. Bad-

ˊˊ But it'd be worth it..ˊˊ I stood up from the bench, picking up my book bag and putting it over my shoulder. I walked home, putting headphones on and turning on Beautiful Stranger, reminding me of last week. A smile formed on my face softly moving to music.

* Maybe we would have exchanged a few words.

ˊˊ A fairy tale moment could have occurredˊˊ Softly twirling the cord of the headphones, the people only do small glances before going back to what they're doing. I forgot to plan something.

What do I do today?

* But a beautiful stranger will have to remain.

My eyes glanced up at the birds on the wire, pretty normal, huh? Anyways, maybe I should go to the mall. My parents gave me money for it so I guess it would be nice.

* A stranger until I see him again.

I wanted to get a few things from hot topic, But I don't mind chilling at the food court it would make my nose pleased. I don't have a smell/food kink..

Is it weird that I had to say that? I guess so. Who would be thinking you would have that?

Taking out my house keys realizing I was near my house, opening my bottom book bag pocket, taking out my housekeys, and hearing the chains and keys make their usual noise.

I saw my cat, well.. A cat that I fed at my doorstep as if it was waiting for me, meowing as it rolled off its back and on its legs making their way to me, I crouched and petted the cat. ˊˊ Hey man..ˊˊ I coo'd feeling my heart tingle from the cuteness of the cat.

Why are cats so adorable?..

* See him again. 💞

I stood up, going back to my business, walking up the doorstep, hearing the soft paws on the ground and the cat purring. Unlocking my door, I looked down, making sure the cat didn't slip inside, but its adorable eyes looking at me made me wanna scream.

ˊˊ I'll feed you after I get dressed, okay buddy.ˊˊ

ˊˊ Meow!ˊˊ

Adorable..

The cat sat down by the door when I closed it, hearing its fading out purring through the door. Poor cat, why would its owner leave it behind? Now, it has to survive on its own. You could've given it to a neighbor.

Like me!

I place my bookbag next to the door, also taking my jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack. I walk up the stairs and straight to my bedroom, taking off my headphones, fixing my hair so it doesn't look weird.

Closing the door behind me, I look at my desk filled with papers with drawings and my scripts, taking off my shoes kicking them to the end of my bed.

Walking up to my desk and sitting on the spinny chair, looked down and realized something.

Where was my one of mini country balls?..

I remember there was a tiny Belarus here.. WHAT THE FLIP BRUV 😨

Anyways, I picked up one of my unfinished drawings, it was a reference of my dream. Sorry, it just sticked with me even though it's Been like...

2 W E E K S. . .

I groaned as I rubbed my eyes, placing the picture down, getting up from the chair so I can change into my jammies.

Uh.. After I changed, I realized I was supposed to feed the kitty Kat, walking out my room, being mad careful with having socks on and walking on wooden floors.

Walking into the kitchen, I saw my tiny Belarus on the counter, I stared at her.

Ma'am.

Who moved you-

I blinked slowly before turning away, ˊˊ Weird..ˊˊ I mumbled as I walked over to the lower cabinets, grabbing a can of tuna. Mumbling under my breath.

Grabbing an can opener, I positioned the can and start turning the handle. Watching the can opener doing its work. After that I took the loose top off and drained some of the juice out.

Walking to my front door I unlocked it, looking down to see the cat still there. Yeah, this cat loves me. It's meowing putting me back to reality as I shook my head a bit.

Placing the can down, i watched the cat go ravish on the tuna. I scratch their head before going back inside, locking the door as always.

Walking to the kitchen and looking at the counter. The lil Belarus ball was still there.. Just staring into the oblivion.

I'm still wondering who moved you missy-

Picking her up, being EXTRA GENTLE CUZ THIS IS MY BABY!!!! And placing her in my palm, it was adorable-

Walking up the stairs and to my room. I was just coo'ing and babying the little Belarus in my hand, I have an obsession with cute things especially if they're small..

Sitting down at my desk putting her down next to the tiny Poland ball she was originally with, yeah don't move like that ok girl-

I picked up my phone, looking at it with a massive bored face. I can either scroll through tiktok, go on character ai, draw or sleep.

Cuz I barely have any friends and they probably went to school so.. Yeah..

I groaned, placing the phone down. Getting up from my spinny chair and off to my bed, flopping down on it as I turned to my side. Getting all snuggly in blankets and pillows, my scrunched up face now into a calm one.

Why are beds so comfy.. They're the best creations on earth I swear.

My mind slowly started to go blank, only thinking of lil scenarios in my head. Things I could've been, imaging myself with my Comfort Character, or just my favorite fandom/show. It's infinite.

It's like your thoughts are a Void.

It never ends.

ˊˊI won't hurt you.. Just trust me ˊˊ

Fluttering my eyes open I seem too be in a flower field. I was wearing a white dress/Blouse with black pants (or shorts). I could see the shadow of a bow in my hair too, it's two ribbons flowing in the wind.

Standing up, my legs felt really weak as if it was glass on the brink of breaking. But I managed because I was strong 💪. I just looked around, it was sadly a blue hour vibe though..

The fog and the slight light as the sun was below the horizon. So it couldn't really give it's original golden orange color as it usually does. I just watched the Wheat and flowers flow in the wind.

There was a tree...

I started walking to the said tree, with the best of my ability. But I madE IT, yeah mama raised a warrior man. Sitting under the tree looking afar as I watched over the flower field. It's so peaceful.

Sadly it's just dream.. 'But who said it is.'

I know that voice- Looking beside me I saw him but his face was more clearer and less blurry than last time. It felt like I was going to cry.

'You missed me didn't you? Well I missed you too Schatz' He chuckled. I growled softly punched his arm as I felt tears stream down my face, his laugh made me feel comforted. 'You bastard! You left me like that for weeks!'

I hiccuped and sobbed, this was to much. The man I danced with and had me so motivated was Austria-Hungary?! This is so..stupid!

'I'm so sorry, but I was busy with all the meetings and my family to come back. I decided that I'll spend my few moments with you' His arms wrapped around me, softly pulling me into his chest. His warmth calming me down from the break down I had.

'Is life getting better for you Schatz?..' He asked. I shook my head slowly, fiddling with my fingers. 'Mom as been at work a lot, on her days off she goes out. My dad is living somewhere else..' I felt my eyes droop after that.

'Barely have friends either, I do but they barely talk to me..' Letting out a bumpy breath I can hear him hum at my answer to his question.

I can feel his hand petting my head in a comforting way. As if he was trying to bring my tension down. It was working either way..

'I just wonder why I can't stay here for ever.. It's not like I have a purpose..' I whispered, closing my eyes as I rested my head on his chest. He sighed. 'I know you want to, but it's hard because you want to live in your mind.'

'Somewhere you can be free, and do anything you want.' He said 'looking' at the leaves falling and the soon rising sun making the blue hour fade away.

'But you need to wait for me, Okay.. I'll help lead you.' he said. My instincts told me he was getting up so i moved. He stood up, wiping his pants as he looked down at me, who was still on their own knees.

Crouching down as he held my sad tired face. 'Ich liebe dich.' Was the last thing he said before fading away, leaving me once again. Golden hour as now arisen. Laying on the soft grass watching the leaves fall and flower field blow in the wind.

How peaceful.. 'It certainly is dear..'

ˊˊI'll protect you from all things I've seen.. ˊˊ

.

Bighand!! He is in my head but he's, devastatingly, not doing anything. I love him so much but he is Not doing something that I can draw but I hope this will change because I like his face and his strong old-man-in-the-woods swagger

A small redesign for Skinny DJMM? His body is vaguely violin shaped and it gave me the idea, and this way, having the output of his voice be That instead of A Line Of Pussies (as it turns out, vertical pairs of pseudolips and vocal cords behind them look suggestive, who knew 🥲) means i can actually draw his underside instead of simplifying things and prancing around. Very organically unnatural, but. [gestures to him] i don't think that's a problem

I had weird phantom Immobile/Steeldrake horns and feelings today and I'm realizing that my bias for them compared to Comids is probably because I physically connect with them. Immobilesona?

They're wearing weird headphones that are fastened around the ear with adjustable suction cups. You wouldn't be able to know that because I forgot how adjustable suction cups looked like and i could barely implement that in the design

highway hypnosis

You're sitting in the backseat with your headphones on, trying to tune out your family. The landscape out the window is flat. Brown. There’s too much sky and not nearly enough cloud to fill it all. The view hasn't changed in hours. How is it possible that the horizon hasn't gotten closer?

You're bored. You want to sit on your feet, flop on your side, stretch your arms above your head and arch your back until your spine pops, but the seatbelt won't even let you fidget properly. 

You wish you had more than the one mixtape. This one’s alright, but it’s far from your best work. The rest are buried in your duffel which is in the trunk and there's no way Mom’s going to pull over so you can dig them out, we just stopped so your sister could pee because she forgot to go at the truckstop. 

Now you're thinking about that weird old lady that ran the diner and you wonder how the hell she ended up out here, alone and hours from any town. But she seemed so happy in spite of that, and that seriously was the best plum jam you’ve ever had in your life, and the wall behind the register was plastered in crayon drawings, so that's at least two things she's doing right, and... did... did she wink at you on your way out the door? Or is boredom starting to color in the grey spots in your memory. 

The tape ends. You eject it, flip it over, catch a few snatches of whatever weird more-static-than-music local radio station your mom’s tuned into— then side B starts and you tune them out again. 

Your sister passes you a bag of trail mix. You accept it without looking at her and are halfway through it before you realize she picked out all the M&M's before handing it to you. You don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction, you just keep munching down peanuts and raisins and sunflower seeds and think of ways to get back at her at the motel later. Maybe you’ll short-sheet her bed. Or offer to make a trip to the vending machine so you can shake up her can of Coke. Shaving cream on the alarm clock? That one might make Mom too mad to be worth it. 

You cross your arms and slouch down in your seat. It’s stuffy. The AC in this car’s never worked, so you crack your window. Your sister punches you in the arm, sticks a finger in her ear and mouths ‘wub-wub’ at you. She scowls and opens her window too. You point at your headphones and mouth ‘can’t hear you,’ then toss the empty trail mix bag at her. You shut your eyes. 

Side B is calmer. Silly and happy and almost shoe-gazey as it nears the end, comes in for a soft landing. You realize it’s the perfect continuation of side A. You don’t think you did that on purpose. Your subconscious must be smarter than you give it credit for. Maybe you are a genius. A real musical savant.

The tape ends. You eject it, flip it over— 

“Hey,” your sister says. You open your eyes. She’s staring at you, the wind making a mess of her hair. There’s a comic book open in her lap, some obscure sci-fi title you’ve never heard of. She reads the weirdest shit.

You push one headphone speaker away, hook it behind your ear. Mom is fiddling with the radio dial again. She’s stuck in static.

“What,” you grunt.

“Did Nellie ask you about the bugs too?”

“The… What?”

“The bugs. Behind the diner.”

“Who the hell is Nellie?”

“The lady at the diner,” she says. You say nothing, your brain searching for any recent mention of bugs. Your sister clicks her tongue in annoyance and plucks at the collar of her T-shirt. “Nametag. She didn’t ask you about bug hunting?”

“Uh. No.”

“Huh. She said if I was bored I could take a jar out back and look for crickets. Kinda wish I had.”

You try to recall the last time you ran around in a field looking for bugs. Third grade, maybe. “I don’t remember hearing crickets,” you say.

“You didn’t remember her name either,” she says with a shrug.

You scoff and roll your eyes, snap the cassette deck of your walkman shut.

“What are you listening to?” she asks.

“Mixtape.”

“Your mix?” 

“Yeah.”

“Mm. Can’t be worse than…” she nods at the front seat.

Your older sibling is in the front passenger seat, grappling with an enormous paper map and grumbling something you can’t quite hear over the wind. Mom is still turning the radio dial, and for a second, she lands in an eerie space between two stations; a tinny commercial overlaps with the twang of a song you almost recognize, then both fade back into the static. You look past them, out the windshield at the blur of the highway. The landscape changed during side B. Nothing drastic — some scrubby trees and grasses, a few splashes of silvery green and dusty yellow, the suggestion of hills on the horizon. It’s not exciting, but it is decidedly different. 

“Do you have your headphones?” you say. Your sister frowns in confusion. You hold up the walkman and tap the second headphone jack. “You can plug in if you want.”

“Oh. Yeah, one sec.” She rummages in her backpack, resurfaces with a tangled mass of cord. You watch her work to free the headphones from the knots and decide you’ll just short-sheet her bed later. The shaving cream thing is too much work.

She slips on the headphones, hands you the cord, and picks her comic book back up. You plug in and turn to stare out the window again.

You press play.

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange. 

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

i’ll show you, if you show me.(m) jk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2,173

genre: gamer jk, best friends au, slight fluff in the form of (y/n) is literally jk’s biggest fan, smut-ish??? minor nasty-ness, but a general warning that smut is implied and sort of written, humor (to me lmao cause I think I’m hilarious)

warnings: 18+, nsfw, language

“game night suddenly gets a little more interesting when Jungkook forgets to hang up from your video call.”

“Alright, (y/n). We are in the last half of the battle and we just about have it. I’ll be operator, you get my six. Let’s get tactical!”

A soft exhale escaped your lips as you listened to your best friend through your headphones.

Jungkook could be both endearing AND annoying.

Sometimes you wondered how he could accomplish the two at the same time. But he was charming after all.

“Yeah, yeah Jeon. Same old song and dance. I’ve got you.”

The game launched to life and your character quickly rushed off to scavenge for items that could be turned into armor.

You had first come into contact with Jungkook when you were both twelve years old.

It was Christmas Day to be exact. Both gleaming with joy as you hurried up the stairs to set up your newest prized possession- an Xbox.

You couldn’t quite remember which game introduced you to each other, but what you did know is that you beat him.

Tremendously so.

And you never let him live it down.

Ever since that day, you both spent most of your time speaking to each other every night. Eventually teaming up and forming what you called yourselves, “The Indestructible Duo.”

People grew to hate you. Once anyone saw both of your usernames enter the server it was game over.

You both loved it.

It was your typical best friend bond. The only thing separating you from everyone else was that you hadn’t ever met in person.

As time went on, e-mails and phone numbers were exchanged. Graduations were had, colleges were trudged through and brand new jobs were offered.

But one thing remained the same, Saturday game night.

You would always joke that this was the reason that you didn’t have a life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So that’s how you were here today. 2 a.m. on a Saturday with glossy eyes from staring at the screen for the majority of the night.

“How’s the job been going, Miss editor?” You could hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice. Jungkook was a writer and as far as he saw it, you worked for the enemy.

“It’s fine.” You mumbled through your sips of tea. “I keep telling you to submit your novel, but soMEBODY’s too chicken shit.”

Jungkook scoffed as he slew the head off of another forest monster.

“If it’s not good enough for Harper Collins, then it’s not good enough for your publishing house.”

“Dude, you sent your first novel to a major company. All I’m saying is, in the hands of the right editor, ME, that shit would be flying off the shelves.”

You jammed your thumb into the up arrow, drawing your sword to shoo away the oncoming goblins.

“You know I love you, but the only reason you think that is because you are my best friend and you know it.”

“No. I really don’t, Jungkook. Do you remember that bird house you made for your senior project in high school? The one you made out of floss and hot glue? Yeah- it was an atrocity. AND! I told you!!!”

The familiar warmth of his laugh filled your ears and you sat back for a minute to relish in the sound.

“It was really bad, wasn’t it?”

If Jungkook could rank the top ten most painful positions to fall asleep in, sitting upright with his head hanging over the side of his game chair would come in at number one.

This is how game nights would usually end. You slumped over and Jungkook listening every once in a while for your soft snores to come through.

A sound he had grown to look forward to.

One might call it adoration.

He removed his headset and untangled the controller cords from his feet, delicately setting them on his dresser. His body went into autopilot and made the motions to shut down the game, not before saving their progress. You would have his head tomorrow if he forgot to save.

He has made that mistake only once.

Jungkook peered down at his attire, wondering if he really did have to change into new boxers just because he spilled a tiny bit of soda on them.

He could practically hear your voice in his ear, “Men. They are do disgusting”.

It only made him want to defy your thoughts and just wear them.

Opting for the easiest route out, he hooked his thumbs through the waistband and stripped them off. He tossed them to the side watching as they got snagged onto a knob of his dresser drawer.

He had slept like this many times before. There was this one time he had the nastiest flu and any clothing made his fever skyrocket.

Anyhow, he liked the way his sheets felt against his body.

He let his mind wander on what you had said earlier. Ever since Jungkook had expressed that he hoped to be a writer someday, you had been his number one fan.

He almost felt like you were destined to meet because your interests went hand in hand.

He felt a warmth grow in his belly as he thought back to all those video chat sessions while you were both in college.

He would read aloud the chapters he had finished that week as you were working on your homework. You would laugh at the parts he knew that you would and would stop him mid-sentence to tell him to change something.

A characteristic that would annoy some, but Jungkook was grateful for your honesty and how much you cared.

You were just so incredible, he couldn’t believe that he-

fuck

fuuuuUuuUUuck

Jungkook felt the familiar twitch from below.

A betrayal that he had grown accustomed to as of recently.

This had been happening more and more. He would think about how wonderful you were and then all of a sudden he would be sporting a half hard tent in the sheets.

Sure he had thought about you when you were younger, but he always chalked it up to teenage hormones and the fact that he had a girl best friend.

But lately, after every Saturday game night and sometimes throughout the week,

Okay who was he kidding. It was everyday.

Jungkook would catch himself thinking about you.

In more lewd ways than one.

He would get so far as to letting his hand wrap around his length, allowing gentle pressure to relieve the aching feeling. But then he would stop himself.

“She’s my best friend.”

Tonight was different, though. You had spent most of the game convincing Jungkook he was good enough and that you loved every bit of his work.

You had even said that you loved him, which was a new thing they were doing.

Being adults made it less weird to share your feelings and you both knew that you loved each other.

Platonically, of course.

Except all too much recently, Jungkook has had this nagging feeling in his stomach.

Platonic wasn’t a word for it.

He squeezed his eyes shut with a huff and flipped on his side. He could think about his novel. He could do this.

He wouldn’t think about you again tonight.

He just simply wouldn’t.

“Fuck it.”

Jungkook kicked the sheets off of his body and let his hand creep lower on his abdomen. He envisioned your smiling face. One that you had given him a couple nights ago. He remembered how his breath caught in his throat as he watched the strap of your dress momentarily slip off of your shoulder.

A rhythm had finally set in as his hands moved up and down.

He felt the familiar stick, which only made him hasten his pace.

He wondered how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. You had gorgeous lips.

Most of your conversations were spent with him staring at them.

Just the though alone of you looking up at him, mouth closed around him, coaxed a moan from the back of his throat.

“Jungkook.”

He could practically hear you calling out his name.

“Jungkook”

It all felt so real. He wished that it would be.

“Jungkook???”

Fuck, wait.

His hands dropped as he tilted his head out into his room.

“Are you okay? Jungkook?”

He didn’t understand the expression “My heart fell into my stomach.” until now.

He shot up from his position and leaned forward to see his headset glowing bright green. His hands flew towards his computer and shuffled the mouse around to wake it up.

Hovering over the video call icon, he almost hesitated to click to find out his fate.

Call with (y/n)- ongoing, since 5:50 p.m.

His mouth felt dry.

But he didn’t have any time to dwell on the fact that he felt like he was going to vomit.

He could still hear you calling out his name.

Quickly, he adjusted the headphones to rest on his head and let out a silent, ragged breath.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Finally! What happened? I fell asleep and I woke up to you saying my name?”

Shit.

Had he been saying your name?

Jungkook cursed again under his breath. Damn his imaginative writer brain that caused him to leave this earth for a fleeting moment.

And for it to fucking utter your name while he was pleasuring himself.

“Y-yeah! All good!” He was still trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t noticed he was breathing this hard until now.

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you were touching yourself and saying my name.” (Y/n) deadpanned into her mic.

He was dead.

Gone.

Here lies Jeon Jungkook. King of the dumbasses of his time.

Why they fuck wasn’t self vaporization a thing?

About 30 minutes ago, you had woken up to delicious moans and someone purring your name.

You would have thought it was a figment of your imagination, had it not been for the blinking video call icon on your screen.

You knew you should have said something. And quite honestly you let it go on for far too long, but the twinge in your stomach made you stop.

Next thing, your hand was sliding into the front of your unbuttoned jeans.

“How-how long have you been listening?” Jungkook nearly spoke in a whisper.

“Does it matter? Tell me what you were thinking about, Jeon.”

He could hear your smirk.

“Are you serious?”

“Serious.”

He froze.

He hadn’t thought about what he would do if you ever reciprocated these feelings. He didn’t even know where to start.

“I- I was thinking about your lips.”

“My lips where?”

You knew what you were doing.

Jungkook leaned back into his chair and let his hands rest back to the position they were in before.

“Wrapped around my cock. How good they would feel.”

Your thighs squeezed together and you didn’t know if you had ever felt a rush of arousal come that quickly from just words alone.

“You know…I’ve thought about this plenty of time. I think I could make you cum in zero seconds flat.”

Jungkook felt like his entire world was spinning.

So, he hadn’t been the only one thinking these things.

“God, I wish I knew where you lived. I want to be able to touch you.” He murmured.

It never felt strange that they didn’t share their addresses with each other. What with it being the digital age, they never had a reason too.

Not until now.

He reached over and pressed the video call button. His body acting on pure desire before his brain and once he realized what he did, he rushed to hit the end call button.

But he was met with a smiling (y/n).

A smiling, pantsless (y/n).

He watched as you rolled your hips up towards your hand.

His brain felt like it was going into overdrive.

Not only was he seeing you partially nude for the first time, but you were also touching yourself.

Thinking of him.

“Tell me how you would have me if you were here, Jungkook.”

He watched hungrily as the fabric of your underwear rose up and down like a guide for your fingers.

“I’d spread those pretty little legs and taste you. I’ve wondered what you taste like.”

“Do you want to see what you’ve been thinking of?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Jungkook watched as you stood up and slowly lowered your underwear, kicking them off once they were around your ankles. You kept your legs shut and looked towards him with hooded eyes.

“Let’s see you.”

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and awaited his next move.

Jungkook tilted the camera down to show off his quite embarrassingly fully hard cock.

You sucked in a breath and allowed your legs to be open just enough for you to run a finger over your clit.

“Do you want to see what I do what I think of you?” You tried to keep your voice level, but it came out in a sort of whine.

“I’ll show you, if you show me.”

Isolation update! I was planning on doing the prompt of "Sight" for @gumnut-logic challenge for the next chapter of the big fat fic (which I'm still gonna do) but this came out too. So I let the boys roll with it.

Day 76 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“Scott?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know anything about this?” I held up my headphones, which had been previously missing for maybe the last eight months and that I had just found in the cutlery drawer.

“Yeah, they’re headphones.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious, I meant why are they in with the knives and forks?”

He shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you were hiding socks around the place for over three weeks.”

“Only because it took you so long to give them back to me. I started after we watched Half Blood Prince, I thought it would make you laugh but you just kept ignoring them.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you needed to be freed!”

“Of course I did! I was your house elf!”

“House elves do chores! They don’t sit around being fed and demanding attention!”

“I’m a progressive house elf that is fighting for elf rights!”

“No you aren't, you’re a lazy bum!”

“Lazy? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“I will never understand the conversations you two have,” John muttered as he pushed past us to fill his mug with the coffee I had just brewed.

“It’s affectionate arguing,” Scott laughed, sliding his mug over to John for a top up.

“So no one knows why my headphones have just suddenly turned up from wherever they vanished to and magicked themselves into the kitchen?”

“Nope,” Scott gave up waiting for John to pour him a drink and stole mine. I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. John slid a fresh cup over to me. Such a great guy.

“You know,” John mused. “I found one of my world geography books in the bathroom cupboard.”

“I found my utility knife in the piano stool,” Virgil added, wandering over to snag some toast that had just popped up.

“I just made that,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he continued to butter it. I stared at his plaid clad back for a few seconds but when he failed to burst into flames I gave up and dropped some more bread into the toaster.

“Now that I think about it,” Scott mused, “I found my guitar pick in the fruit bowl, the one that I got from that little shop in Texas. I thought I lost it for good years ago but it just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Something strange is going on,” Virgil declared. “If stuff we lost is returning there has to be a reason for it.”

“Parallel universe,” I answered confidently.

“I don’t think that's a thing,” Scott said gently.

“Apports then?” I offered.

“No, I don’t think...what’s an apport?” Virgil asked.

“An object conjured out of nothing by a ghost, obviously.”

“I don’t think this is the work of a ghost, love," John said, squeezing my shoulder as he passed by to take a seat. “There’s only one person that borrows things without asking and that’s Gordon.”

“That was going to be my next guess,” I admitted.

“Yet you went straight for ghosts and different universes?” Scott asked, clearly bemused.

“Well, maybe, just for once, I wanted something interesting to happen around here that I could actually deal with,” I huffed. “Sue me.”

“Only you could think ghosts and different realms were something that’s easy to deal with when you were the one that screamed and climbed me like a monkey because a crab ran over your foot on the beach last night,” John laughed.

“Crabs have pincers, any sane person would get away from one of them,” I pouted, reaching for some toast off Virgil’s plate. Honestly I don’t know why we don't just have communal plates in this house, no one seems to eat their own food.

“So what are we going to do about Gordon being a kleptomaniac?” I asked.

“We’ll deal with him after breakfast,” Scott decided, leaning over and biting the corner off my toast. See? No boundaries whatsoever.

***

The klepto in question was sneaking suspiciously around the lounge when we tracked him down and we caught him in the act of leaving a magnifying glass behind a book on the bookcase.

“Busted,” Scott yelled, making Gordon jump about a foot in the air.

“So it was you that’s been leaving our belongings scattered around the house,” Virgil sighed.

“Why are you doing this?” John asked, although his tone said he was debating the wiseness of even posing the question and was unsure he actually wanted an answer.

“Can’t a guy do something nice for his family?”

“He can when he’s not the one thats been stealing things in the first place,” I shot back, arms folded, foot tapping.

“I’m offended!” Gordon gasped dramatically. “A Tracy doesn’t steal unless its Virgil and a bell takes his fancy-”

“That was one time and it was an accident!”

“I may borrow things,” Gordon continued.

“For three years?” Scott snorted.

“I borrow on extended loan-”

“Without permission,” John added.

“But you always get them back eventually,” Gordon finished triumphantly. “I got bored and cleaned my room and it was like unearthing buried treasure. I may have forgotten that I borrowed a few things but you’ve got them back now, so no harm no foul.”

“Is that all you needed to return?” Virgil sighed.

“There might be a few other things scattered around,” Gordon admitted.

“Go and get them,” Scott ordered.

Gordon staggered in half an hour later weighed down by a massive box overflowing with his plundered loot.

“Seriously?” Scott gaped as the box thumped down on the table.

“All of that?” Virgil couldn't believe his eyes.

“Not surprised,” John muttered.

“How did you manage to borrow all that?” Alan asked in awe, having been summoned from his pit to claim any lost items that may have fallen into Gordons possession. “I’m not even allowed to borrow a pen.”

“It’s because he doesn’t bother asking,” John told him.

“That’s where I’ve been going wrong!”

Gordon shooty finger winked at him.

“No!” I yelped, intervening for the first time and grabbing Alan, pulling him into my arms. “Do not corrupt this precious bean.”

“Too...late,” Alan wheezed, trying to escape my python like grasp.

“Oh, sorry,” I let go and Alan took a dramatically deep breath.

“What’s in the box, Squid?” Scott asked.

Gordon tipped the box up and out tumbled a mass of things that shocked even me.

“That’s my baseball cap,” Scott snagged it.

“My gloves,” Virgil claimed them.

“That’s my camera,” John snatched it up. “I thought I left that behind on the beach and the sea took it.”

“Well, technically the sea’s representative did,” I giggled, then noticed something in the middle of the pile. “Why do you have my headscarf? You know that I use that when you guys force me to get in a boat, it makes me feel fancy.”

“Are those my sunglasses?”

“Yes, I broke mine and was going fishing.”

“Is that my lipstick?”

“Yeah, I used it to draw blood on my neck so I could be a zombie at halloween.”

“There’s my ocarina.”

“It was so weird I had to try it.”

“Is that my belt?”

“Yeah, remember that date I went on with Penny? It went really well with those navy pants.”

“I thought I lost that harmonica.”

“I was going through a depressed week and wanted to play the blues.”

“Is that my cologne?”

“Same date.”

“Why do you have my toothbrush?”

“I used it to clean the sand out of one of Four’s filters.”

“My playing cards!”

“Yeah, I wanted to learn card tricks.”

“My travel chess set!”

“Four of the pawns are missing now, sorry.”

“Seriously, my drill?”

“I wanted to put up a picture.”

“Why did you need my tie?”

“That's classified.”

“That’s my favorite pen.”

“Yeah, I’ve got no excuse for that, I used it, put it in my pocket and forgot about it.”

“Gordon, why do you have my flip flops?”

“Mine broke and your’s were nearest.”

An endless stream of lost objects had suddenly returned home and it was a tad overwhelming but along with his more recent acquisitions were items that hadn’t been seen in forever.

“I remember this game!” Alan exclaimed, grabbing the box. “John and I used to play it all the time when I was little. You had to be astronauts and fly through the meteor showers and land on different planets and fight aliens. It was great. We had the best scores, no one could beat us.”

“Actually, I had the best scores,” John corrected him.

“No way, it was a team effort, we played that together every night after I got home from school.”

Virgil chuckled.

“What?” Alan looked confused. “Why are you laughing?”

“I may have taken the batteries out of your controller and just let you think you were playing.” John admitted.

“What! That was one of my greatest achievements in life!”

“Alan, you went into space when you were thirteen,” John pointed out.

“Oh yeah!”

Virgil spotted a book and picked it up. “I haven’t seen this since we were little.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” Scott smiled. “Mom had it when she was small and she used to read it to us every thanksgiving.”

John was busy sifting through the pile. “Hey, my first star globe, why do you have this?”

“Remember when I used to get upset when Dad went away? Well you used to point out all the different stars to me on it and where the moon was near them.”

“Oh yeah,” John smiled, “I remember that, I let you borrow it to keep beside your bed so you could see where Dad was every night.”

“That’s my old teddy bear,” Scott smiled, picking it up and sitting it on his lap. “I left him with you when I went to college.”

“I know, I told you that I was too old to have a plushie in my room but you insisted. I passed him on to Alan and when we moved I guess he got packed up with my things.”

“That’s the children’s guitar that Mom taught us to play,” Virgil picked it up and strummed a few cords but the tuning was terrible.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Alan said quietly. “In fact, I don’t remember much of any of this stuff.” He gestured to the pile of things that still remained scattered on the table top. “I don’t know that pencil sharpener, that snow globe or those shell bracelets, I don’t know any of it.”

“Neither do I,” I reminded him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t have any memories of them so they don’t mean anything to me.”

“But that’s what’s so great about things and why I keep telling your brother that not everything has to have a use all the time. Things are there to remind us of the good times, just the sight of them can conjure up images, but they are also there to encourage us to share those memories. I used to love looking through my Nan and Grandad’s cupboards because I discovered so many things that were interesting,” I told him. “I’d ask them about them and they would tell me where they got them or who they belonged to before they got them and it was so nice to see the joy that the memories brought them. Pick something and ask about them, let’s share memories.”

Slowly Alan reached out to touch the small pile of shell bracelets.

“Where did these come from?”

“We were on a trip to the beach,” Scott started.

“Gordon was running all over picking up little shells and bringing them back to Mom,” Virgil continued.

“She ended up with a huge pile of them,” John laughed. “But Gordon didn't want her to put them back.”

“She ended up asking Dad to drill a tiny hole through each of them and she made them into bracelets for us as a reminder of the vacation,” Scott picked up the story.

“We wore them for a few days but Gordon kept stealing them because he loved the shells,” Virgil added.

“I remember that,” Gordon smiled. “There’s a picture in the album of me wearing them all, I don’t look any older than five.”

Alan picked them up, rubbing one of the shells between thumb and finger. “Why are there five of them?”

“Because Mom was pregnant with you at the time and said that you were there too so you should have a bracelet,” Scott smiled, reaching over to take one. “This was mine.”

One by one the others each claimed a bracelet, leaving Alan with just one.

“You’re right, that’s a nice story to hear,” he admitted, slipping the bracelet over his hand.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” I suggested. “This has been a mad few months, how about we start a new memory box and in ten years time we’ll look back in it and remember the longest vacation ever.”

“Yeah,” Alan nodded. “That could be cool.”

The box slowly filled up with bits and pieces.

Here are some of them.

-Some of our finished colouring pages.

-Gordon’s tablet that hadn’t recovered from its unscheduled dip in the bath.

-Brains’s broken glasses and a broken piece of his microscope that fell off of Alan when we played human buckaroo

-A small pile of post-it’s which Scott had used on April fools day to label everything in the lounge.

-The rubber spider John had pranked me with.

-A pair of the bunny ears the boys wore to deliver Easter eggs.

-The empty bottle of ‘Chill Pills’ Scott got for his birthday.

-A selection of our pictionary artwork.

-The beauty blender Virgil ruined on Gordon’s face.

-An empty popcorn bag Alan found stuffed between the couch cushions from one of our many movie nights.

-One of Scott’s socks that hadn’t been found before.

-A gaudy necklace from our lip sync battle

-A clue list from our scavenger hunt

-A shell I picked up on the beach the day they taught me to surf.

-The evil Furby

-The purple wig we made John wear (he was very glad to donate it to the memory box)

“OK, so, we don’t take anything out but we can add more for as long as isolation goes on?” Alan confirmed.

“Yep,” I nodded. “Who’s going to be in charge of keeping it safe?”

“Gordon should,” Alan said. “Since he seems to be the keeper of everyone’s things.”

“Even without permission,” John muttered, tucking his pen into his pocket in case it went walkies again.

“Actually,” Gordon said, “I think Alan should look after it for us.”

“Really? You mean that?” Alan grinned.

“Sure, kiddo,” Scott agreed. “After all, they’re your memories too

Chapter One

- Banner by the amazing @punzellies -

Summary: TJ Kippen walks through life looking out for number one because nobody else seemed to. When an unlikely friendship sparks new feelings, TJ’s outlook on everything begins to change.

Note: This is an AU. Most of this will be explained in the story but a here’s a quick summary of the main changes: TJ and Cyrus met during the muffin scene but never reconnected after that. The kids are now all in high school. GHC and co. are sophomores whilst Amber and Iris are juniors. 

(read on ao3)

Chapter One 

Word Count: 1662

✗ ✗ ✗

It’s the last day of summer vacation before TJ officially becomes a student at Grant High School. To round off the break in a way that poetically reflects how the summer has gone for TJ, the rain pours down outside. 

TJ sits alone at a table situated at the back of The Spoon in a position where he can see everyone in the diner without anyone really noticing him. TJ has his headphones plugged in but with the music low enough that he could still clearly hear everything going on around him. TJ often did this, he liked to be aware but he also wore them because it tended to make people leave him alone. 

Even though TJ could hear everything clearly, he still pretends like he didn’t notice his cousin approach the table. It’s not until she forcefully yanks the cord - pulling the headphones from TJ’s ears completely - that he looks up from his phone.

“What do you want, Amber?” TJ grumbles. 

“Nice to see you too, cousin.” Amber exaggerates her smile. “I was on my break and I didn’t see you come in.” Amber explains. 

“I didn’t think you were working, if I’d known you were, I wouldn't have come in.” TJ exaggerates his smile too, mimicking his cousin. 

“Did you come from work?” Amber asks, choosing to ignore TJ’s jerky behaviour. 

“No, I wear this for fun.” TJ quips sarcastically as he motions to his Jackson Street Gym t-shirt. “I was walking home but it started raining.” 

“Wasn’t your mom picking you up today?” Amber questions, continuing to ignore his snarkiness. 

“I guess she forgot me.” TJ shrugs, “That’s been happening a lot lately.” 

"Maybe Aunt Tess was just busy,” Amber smiles sympathetically, “I finish work in an hour, want me to drive you home? I could try slip you some free fries while you wait.” 

“I don’t want your sympathy fries or your ride home.” TJ rejects grumpily.

“I’m just trying to be nice. No need to be such a jerk about it.” Amber huffs. “Walk home in the rain. See if I care.” 

TJ did just that, staunching out of the diner with a huff of his own. Luckily for the teen though, the rain had started to clear up so the walk wasn’t actually too bad. Eventually it stopped completely and the sun even poked through the gray clouds.  

With the weather change, TJ decides to walk through the park even though it adds an extra five minutes onto his trip. As TJ is passing the swing set he spots a somewhat familiar face singing a mopey song as he swings.

TJ usually ignored this kind of thing and kept to himself or he’d be the kind of guy to poke fun at it and he kind of does just that when he approaches and comments, “Nice song, what do you sing when you’re on the slide?” 

The boy stops swinging and answers with another rhyme, to which TJ can’t help but let out a faint laugh as he hadn’t actually expected him to have a song.

“I know you,” TJ says a little uncertain, “Chocolate, chocolate chip muffin right?”

“And you’re scary basketball guy.” He says with a hint of a smile on his confused face. 

TJ’s expression drops, although the boy had said it with a smile it felt like an insult nonetheless. “Actually, TJ.” 

“I know. Cyrus.” He points to himself. “I can’t believe you remember the muffin thing, that was like two years ago.”

TJ shrugs it off casually. “Didn’t you move to London or something?” 

“It was more in the country.” Cyrus explains, “But basically yeah. I’m back now though. For good.”

“When did you get back?” TJ asks. 

“Today.” Cyrus beams. 

“And your first stop was the park?” TJ raises a brow. 

“Swinging makes me feel better about things.” Cyrus admits. 

“You’re not happy to be back?” TJ questions. 

“More anxious.” Cyrus explains. “I’m kind of battling with a big decision.” 

“Like what shirt you’re going to wear for the first day?” TJ playfully teases. 

“Please,” Cyrus coaxes his head with a smirk, “I decided that two weeks ago.” 

TJ chuckles but eventually the laughter fades, he looks at Cyrus with a subtly curious expression, “So does it help?” TJ asks. “The swinging?”

“It helps me.” Cyrus nods, “Why don't you try?” He suggests, “It could just be the rain dampened look but you kinda seem like you need it.” 

TJ considered just walking away, he had already stayed longer than he planed - which was not at all - but before he even realised what he was doing, TJ took to the swing beside Cyrus. 

TJ begins kicking his legs back and forth, the momentum builds and he’s quickly swinging high, a smile building on his face, “Wow, this does kinda make me feel better.” 

“I told you,” Cyrus smiles as he swings at a slower pace. “There’s something about feeling like a kid that makes your problems feel not so important. What do you need to feel better about anyway?” 

“You don't know me. I got stuff.” TJ swings. 

“Betcha I got more stuff.” Cyrus almost jokes. 

“Betcha I can swing higher.” TJ challenges.

“I’m afraid to swing high, that’s part of my stuff.” Cyrus admits. 

TJ continues to try and bait Cyrus into swinging higher but when the boy continues to reject the idea, TJ jumps off his swing and a childhood game ensues. 

“That was exhilarating!” Cyrus exclaims and TJ watches Cyrus’ swing slow with a smile. 

“Feel better about your upcoming decision yet?” TJ questions. 

“I think so.” Cyrus laughs, “How about you, do you feel better?” 

“Yeah. I really do.” TJ smiles, swinging really had made him feel better but acknowledging that out loud again changed TJ’s mood, like a subconscious reminder went off about how he shouldn't feel that way. His expression drops, “I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to.” Cyrus stops his swinging completely. 

“I still have to decide what shirt to wear.” TJ jokes. 

“Avoid red.” Cyrus continues the bit, “I find it too angry for a first day.” 

TJ lets his laugh taper off, “Thanks for reminding me about swinging.”

“You’re welcome.” Cyrus nods. “See you at school tomorrow, not so scary basketball guy?” 

“Sure thing, underdog.” TJ says almost sarcastically and it wasn’t meant in a malicious way, TJ just couldn’t imagine they’d have much reason to be in each others lives after this. 

After the swings, TJ makes his way home and on the way it began to lightly rain, getting him all damp again. TJ enters his apartment quietly, gently placing his keys on the hook by the door. 

“Teej, is that you?” His mothers voice trails down the hall.

“Yeah, it’s me.” TJ calls back. Silently he wonders what his mom would do if it wasn’t him. The chances of the person at the door -letting themselves in- being someone else were slim, after all it was just the two of them that lived there.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Tess announces. 

TJ zips up his still slightly damp jacket and finds his mom as promised, in the kitchen, stacks of boxes scattered about. 

“Sweets, you’re all damp.” Tess points out with a confused expression. “Has it been raining today?” 

“A bit.” TJ nods casually. 

“Where have you been all day?” Tess questions, “You shouldn’t be out in the rain, you can’t afford to get sick with high school just beginning.” 

“It’s fine, I was inside.” TJ states. 

Realisation crosses over his mothers face and her expression falls to guilt, “I was supposed to pick you up from work.” Tess slaps her palm to her forehead. “Why didn't you call me?” 

“I figured you forgot.” TJ shrugs. “It’s okay, I don’t mind walking.”

“Teej, I’m so sorry.” Tess apologises, “I didn’t mean to forget. I got distracted-” 

“Packing up our life, I know.” TJ cuts in bitterly. 

“Teej,” Tess frowns, “I know you don’t want to move but it’s not like it’s across the country. You’ll still be right here in Shadyside. The house will be bigger and there’s yard space. I’ll make sure you can set up a hoop right in the backyard.” 

“I don’t care about a big house or a stupid hoop.” TJ snaps, “This is our home, mom. Our memories are here.”

“Sweets, those memories will always be with you.” Tess soothes, “You don’t need this tiny apartment to keep them alive.” 

“You’re right, so why bother keeping half this junk anyway?” TJ angrily pushes a  box off the counter and dishes smash in the aftermath. 

“TJ!” Tess gasps. 

“I’m going to my room.” TJ states. 

“Dinner will be here soon, I ordered pizza.” Tess tries to defuse her sons anger. 

“I’m not hungry.” TJ grumbles as he leaves his upset looking mother behind him. 

TJ retreats into his room tossing his wet jacket and shirt to the side before putting on something dry. Just as he pulls the new sweatshirt over his head he catches a glimpse of something on his desk. It’s a new set of pencils with a post it note attached that reads, ‘love mom’ with a simple stick figure drawing of the two of them. TJ smiles at the gift and basic drawing, he had been needing new pencils for a while now. The thoughtful gift made him feel guilty for being such a jerk to his mother but TJ was stubborn and still angry that he was being forced to move so he stands firm about hiding away in his room for the evening.

TJ flops down at this desk, his unfinished summer reading staring him right in the face but instead of picking up the syllabus, he reaches for his new pencils and his old sketchpad. 

The time ticks by and as the sun sets on the final day of summer break, TJ fills the page with a drawing of two boys on a swing. 

✗ ✗ ✗

End Notes (pls read): Okay just a short little chapter to get us started. The next one is longer, I promise :) 

I noted a few changes at the top but here are a couple more changes explained further that were mentioned in the chapter;

- Kippen cousins (kinda): 

I am not really a Kippen sibling fan. I like the HC, it’s fun but too far from cannon for me personally. But!! I like the idea of their grumpy dynamic so I’m using it but putting my own spin on it - therefore cousins rather than siblings. (Also not having Amber be his sister works a lot better for this story). 

TJ’s mom and Amber’s dad are brother and sister. Amber’s last name is Brown (as some people tag her as such I can’t remember where this last name came from tbh.. I think it was Josh?). TJ’s mom’s maiden name is Brown but TJ is Kippen because of his father. Hope that’s easy enough to follow :) 

- Cyrus moved to England 

Soon after the muffin escapes and before their on screen swing set scene, Cyrus moved to England. Cyrus attended a fancy boarding school but more on that in future chapters. 

Since Cyrus moved away, TJ and him never really bonded fully after the muffin scene. This change will have impacted both their lives (as I’m a firm believer that people impact who we become) so you will see changes - or changes that never happened - with both of them.

OKAY. There will be a few tweaks to canon here and there but you should all be able to follow along each chapter easily enough!! 

Now to address, swing set new.0; I wasn’t even going to have TJ and Cyrus re-meet this chapter - I had a sort of different prologue planned but scrapped it - and their re-meet was never planned to be on the swings again but I do believe in fate and the swings really sparked their bond so I wanted to revisit that in my story whilst expanding on it to fit their new character dynamics. 

I would like to mention that whilst some parts of my story might include canon tyrus moments reimagined, I won't just be rewriting canon. I plan to incorporate the canon tyrus essence into this story but this story is something new and different. It will not be the tyrus we know but in high school. 

SOOOO, that’s a lot more wordy than usual for my end notes! Yikes! 

I hope you enjoyed this first instalment! More to come! :) I don’t have a planned posting schedule but I hope to release one chapter a week at least!! So ask about the tag list to keep updated! :)

Please let me know your thoughts, likes, reblogs, replies - they are all welcomed and very much appreciated! 

Tag List

- If you would like to be added or removed at any time please feel free to message me -  

@green-lemonboys @thorffour @marvelous-me-always @jonahsbeck @tyrusmagocious @deductionbattles @muffin-duo-xviii @perpetualtyrus @livelovelaugh456 @istillwearyourdenimjacket @thedampjofangirl @protectpetersimmonds @paytonotinthemood @i-am-beyoutiful @cereal-fan @differentandstupidhuman @luzawithoutu  @thefaeriemagic3 @arvinarvox32 @justyouraveragefangiri @someone-get-a-medic @ilovemyredgayson @thebisexualweirdo @amazingpartytattoos @justsay-love @andi-man @spacejellyyfish @ciniluv @amfcndom @bambiandambi @rilaya-tyrus @awkwardlonerkid @moonlightrush @tyruscrack @i-dont-do--sadness @jarolddaiii @tjgoodkippen

I love... drawing angry/startled Max he’s so fun...

forgot the headphone cords in the last panel yes don’t care.

Do not tag as ship

makin’ monet - jungkook

A/N: requested by @xilee-reaper​. Jungkook’s interest is peaked when his roommate Taehyung has a collection of fake classic paintings. 2.2k words.

“O Week, baby!”

Jungkook ignores Tae’s cheer as he pokes around his room. Tae had only been in this student accommodation for three days, but his stuff was already all over the place.

Tae had always been a collector; no matter where he went, he was always picking up trinkets and memorabilia like he was a magnet for it.

Now, it seemed, his new obsession were these tiny little canvas squares, painted as miniature imitations of famous paintings. Jungkook picks one up, a mock-up of Monet’s Water Lilies that is accurate down to the smallest detail. There’s no name on the bottom, just a tiny black set of initials.

“God, where did I leave the slides?”

Tae has been rooting around his room for the better part of half an hour, getting ready for a campus party that only he wanted to go to, yet somehow was the one that was now an hour late for, and Jungkook was forced to endure the unpleasant experience of Tae going through every single clothing article to try and find the best outfit.

Jungkook was just in a white t-shirt and worn jeans, but that apparently was too minimalistic for Tae.

He puts down the Water Lilies and moves on. There are six of them on Tae’s bookshelf, and while they’re good, sure, it seems a little excessive. “Hey, Tae,” he calls out to the man who’s head over heels in his closet, waiting for a muffled ‘yeah?’ before continuing. “These little paintings, you made them?”

Tae emerges ass-first from the messy heap of clothes, triumphantly brandishing a pair of Gucci slides. “Nah, ‘course not, I bought them off Y/n.”

Jungkook frowns. The name’s not familiar. “Y/n? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend?”

Taehyung just scoffs, hopping around on one foot as he puts on his shoes. “I don’t, she’s just a friend. If I spot her at the party tonight, I’ll introduce you two.”

Well aware of Tae’s habit of saying things with no intention of actually doing them, Jungkook just hums in affirmation and leaves the paintings on the shelf, itching to finally go out.

The girl, Y/n, apparently wasn’t at the party. Maybe she was, but Taehyung just forgot to introduce her. Either way, the loose end was bothering Jungkook more than he expected. Why was he so curious about this girl? He tried to picture what she was like. Chances are she wasn’t that much like Tae. All of his friends always seemed way different from him, Jungkook included, as if he wanted to be the Regina George of his friend groups at all times.

That did leave a lot of possibility, though, and he found himself asking Tae more and more about this mystery girl, curiosity eating him alive.

She was studying engineering like Jungkook, apparently, so perhaps she was like those cold, logical, hard-ass women he had seen in his classes, but her paintings would suggest otherwise. Tae also mentioned he often hung out with at her place, and she had an impressive collection of videogames that ‘even you would be jealous of, Kook’. So perhaps she was an anti-social nerd that sat on the couch for hours with a controller and a bag of Cheetos, but then Tae never had any interest in hanging out with people that had no interest in hanging out with him.

The more he found out, the less he knew.

Now, Jungkook sits in his first computer lab of the semester. Engineering was a pretty massive discipline, no matter what university you were at, and the giant lecture halls were so packed that you couldn’t really make a lot of friends and get to know people, but there were so many timetable streams of computer labs that each one had broken down to about twenty-five people.

Next to him is a guy with boxy, unflattering glasses, the ones you could never imagine anyone actively choosing to wear, and he seems too plugged in to some anime with extremely endowed women to want to talk to Jungkook.

The seat next to him is vacant when the class starts, but ten minutes in, one of the doors opens and a girl slips in. At first Jungkook assumes she’s in the wrong room, because she looks nothing like the other hundred or so engineering students he had seen so far.

She’s so short she has to go on tiptoes to glance over the computer screens and find a spare seat, wide eyes lighting up on the space to Jungkook’s right.

“And why are you so tardy, madam?”

She pauses in her scurry towards his desk and stares at the lecturer, who is crossing his arms over in an unconvincing show of dominance. “Because I didn’t get here in time,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

Jungkook can’t help but quirk his lips into a grin at that, but once she turns back to his direction, he quickly hides it behind his hand, coughing lightly.

The computer lab is hard, way more complicated than anything he had done in high school, and he’s so focused on putting in the right commands that it takes him another twenty or so minutes to look up from his monitor and notice the girl next to him.

He rubs the tiredness from his eyes and stretches back, glancing over at her screen. He pauses, arms still stretched out in the air behind him. “You’ve already finished?” he asks incredulously.

She looks up from where she’s scribbling absentmindedly on a piece of graph paper and stares at him. Once she processes what he said, her eyes widen in realization. “Oh, yeah, I checked it out last night and it was kinda easy, so I figured I’d just do it then.”

Ignoring the fact that he felt a little stupid for struggling so much, he sits up in his chair properly and swivels to face her. “Why are you here, then?”

She grins cheekily and cocks her head to the lecturer’s desk, where he’s overseeing the lab like a sergeant. “The general ambience, you know.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes glancing down for a moment. He blinks a couple times and realizes that her scribbles are actually quite good, and in fact familiar. “Café Terrace at Night?”

She cocks her head at the sudden change of topic. “Huh? Oh, right! How did you know?” She sighs. “I’ll be honest, I’m a little sad that I couldn’t pass it off as my own.”

Computer lab forgotten, he begins swaying back and forth on his chair lazily, bumping knees with her every swing. He notes with a little burst of happiness that she makes no attempt to move away from the contact. “I saw a Van Gogh recently. Not a real one, though,” he adds quickly upon seeing the impressed look on her face.

Wait a minute. He glances down at her half of the desk again and sees a haphazard pile of textbooks and refill she had brought in with her. On the spine of Introduction to Mechanical Engineering is the name Y/N, in sharpie-d all-caps.

His mouth falls open in a perfect o, and he points dumbly at the textbooks. “You’re Y/n!”

She bites on her lip, glancing back and forth between her books and him. “Yeah?”

“My friend, Taehyung, he’s got a bunch of your paintings in his dorm room.”

Her eyes brighten in realization. “Ah, Kimmy! Small world, huh.” She glances down at her drawing, eyes distant and unfocussed. She takes a deep breath and looks back up at him, twiddling her thumbs. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in buying one?”

Jungkook tips his head. “Buying one?”

She frowns, and Jungkook can’t help but stare at her delicate pout. “Well, I’m not giving them away for free! They take hours of hard work and I-”

“That’s- That’s not what I meant,” he clarifies hurriedly, “I just didn’t realize you were, like, selling them selling them.”

Her pout tips up into a soft smile, and she raises her eyebrows in good humor. “Well, this is the first time we’ve met, so it’s unsurprising that you don’t know everything about me.” She pauses. “In fact, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh! Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet the man Kimmy has never once mentioned,” she jokes. When Jungkook furrows his brows and looks a little put out, she laughs and pushes him a little on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, idiot! He talks about you all the time. Kookie, right?”

He flushes at the embarrassing nickname but nods in assent.

“Anyway, I used to just make the paintings as a hobby, but I’ve been in a little…financial strife recently, so I’m trying to use them as a little extra income.”

Jungkook sobers. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n laughs again, and the joyous tone causes something to spark in Jungkook. “Oh, no, no, don’t be sorry. I’m just being dramatic, I guess. I let my bunny out of the hatch, and he chewed the cord of my roommate’s headphones. They were pretty expensive ones, so now Yoon’s taken mine hostage until I can save up enough to replace them.” Her gaze turns inward, and she sighs. “Although now I can’t game without him biting my head off about the volume.” She clears her throat and shrugs, cheering up again. “Anyway, if you don’t want to buy one, that’s all good, just thought I’d ask.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair slightly and tips his head back, shaking his hair out of his face. He’s pleased when he sees her swallow and stick her tongue out subconsciously to wet her lips. “No, I’ll buy one,” he counters, “anything to help out with a fellow gamer’s plight.”

Maybe the subtle plug wasn’t so subtle, but her face lights up nevertheless. Over the remaining fourteen minutes of the lab, Jungkook’s computer eventually goes to sleep, as they spend the whole time discussing which servers had the best graphics, and how many times it took them to beat a final boss.

Once the clock strikes ten to the hour, almost all of the students rush to log off and gather their stuff, but Jungkook is in no hurry. Y/n is hunched over his outstretched arm, writing her number on his hand with a pen.

The tickle of the pen sets his nerves alight, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of her hand keeping his steady, and the wrist resting on his as she wrote. He laughs to try and distract himself from just how much his heart was racing from her close proximity. “I said Tae would put me in contact with you! Don’t you trust me?” he teases.

“I don’t trust Kimmy,” she counters immediately, not looking up until she underlines her number twice and puts an exclamation mark. She tucks her pen away in her pencil case and starts packing up her things. Although he has a class next and should probably hurry up, Jungkook just sits back in his chair and observes her. “You can tell him a million times and he’ll still forget, and I’m not putting my business on the line for his flaky ass.”

He chuckles, and absentmindedly his thumb rubs over the ink on the back of his hand. “You’re quite bossy, you know that?”

She grins at him, kicking him lightly in the shins. “And you’re a terrible flirter!”

“If you noticed I was flirting, then I must have been doing it right,” he counters. “Is it working?”

She kicks him again, but her cheeks heat up. “I gave you my number, didn’t I?” She glances at the clock and bites her lip. “Ah, I’m late for my physics nap. Dammit.”

“You’re what?”

She hoists her backpack on, and answers as he gets up hurriedly and stuffs his things away. “If you get to physics early enough, you can get a seat at the back, and Professor Namjoon can’t see you sleeping.”

He scoffs, finally picking up his bag and joining her as they left the classroom together. He doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping in class, and his is in the opposite direction to the way she’s leading him, but he doesn’t want to part ways just yet. Maybe he can skip, just this once, and get Jimin to give him his notes. “I apologize for keeping you up past your bedtime, chief.”

She snorts out her nose but manages to keep her face impassive. “At least you know your place, young grasshopper.”

“We’re the same age!”

“Kimmy’s older than me and he still knows I’m the boss.”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to earn my sworn fealty. I’m not a loyal puppy like Tae.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re quite bossy, you know that?”

He laughs at his words from earlier being thrown back at him. “Only to pretty girls.”

She blushes but forces an unimpressed look on her face. “So, there are others, huh?”

Jungkook shakes his head in bemused disbelief, making a note to himself to thank Tae for buying the photos that started all this. He stares at her while she’s making a point of doggedly avoiding his gaze. They had only just met, sure, but there was something about her that made his heart beat faster, and he desperately wanted to explore that feeling. “Not if you don’t want there to be.”

Read the sequel!

Whoops my non human drawing hand slipped again I'm sorry Butnotreally Was gonna make them all the exact same aside from their fur type but I ended up making each design a lil unique in its own way, here are some notes about them Also didn't do Deceit as I didn't really have ideas for him, maybe soon though! All -Golden retriever mixes. -Lighter brown fur, some have slightly darker shades but it's all close to the same range of brown. Full refs will be made later. -Same eye color, brown. Logan

-Average height. -Spiky (?) fur. -Wears tie and caries around a Rubix Cube. -Shorter and thinner tail. -He needs no calculator he is the calculator. Patton

-Short mans. -Curly fur. -Fluffy tail. -Wears his cat hoodie thing tied around his neck. -When isn't his tail wagging? Probably in his sleep. -Cookies? Cookies. Roman

-Also average height. -Wavy fur. -Wears sash and caries sword. Nobody is really sure how. -Really long and fluffy tail. Virgil

-Slightly taller than the others, but also a tad lanky. -Scruffy fur. -Listens to music a lot, when he isn't he wears his headphones around his neck. (I forgot the cord but shhh its fineee) -Long and fluffy tail, normally hangs low. Occasionally though if he's happy enough and wags it his tail will go up more than normal, but he doesn't do it often.

Un named: i wrote this out of pure boredom and depression please tell me what you think!

It was a warm spring day, the birds were singing frolicking in the sky. The traffic was loud like heards of elephants trampling across the desert. In a small hospital room a woman laid in the white bed, tubes and cords connecting to her like she was a battery powering the big pharmaceutical companies to "cure" her of her ailments. At her side was her daughter, she held her hand tightly humming the tune of her mothers favorite song. She smiled closing her eyes imagining she was front row looking up at her beautiful daughter singing 'Hoy Quiero Confesar' by. Isabel pantoja. The words sliding off of her tonge rolling into the air absorbed by the ears of the calm and emotional crowd. "Its time to eat mrs. Garcia" the words broke through her splendid day dream disintegrating it into the depths of her brain. "Sorry i didnt mean to bother you. We just follow the schedule." The tall nurse said as she laid the tray down on mrs. Garcias lap then left the room closing the door slowly behind her. "Want me to go get you some real food mamá?" Her daughter said knowing her mother well enough to know she hated the hospital food. "It would be sweet of you mija." She reached into her purse fishing for money she prayed she had. "Dont worry mamá i have it." She kissed her mothers head and pulled the hood of her jacket over hers, leaving the room. She walked down the hallway the smell of medical equipment and disinfectant swirled around in the air like a thick translucent fog. She felt as if every step she took more and more people laid their sharp eyes right on her she picked up her pase almost as if she was scared, only because she truly was the anxiety of people around her made her head buzz and her skin crawl her stomach churned feeling as if she would explode at any moment. She reached the door quickly escaping out, the harsh sunlight hit her light gray jacket she felt it through the thin fabric heating up her skin like a small plug in heater. While she made her way to the main sidewalk she put her headphones in one at a time not taking her eyes off of her feet as if she had done it a million times. Down the street was the small latin café that her mother dearly enjoyed. The road was almost like a video game to her everyone could be an enemy she thought as she never looked at one person. She would get lost into the music her hands in the pockets of her jacket the rhythm filled her ears swirling around her brain masking every negative thought she was having it took her to a place of enjoyment she closed her eyes swaying her hips a little not realizing the boy infront of her, all of a sudden "CRASH" they were both on the ground covered in papers she was laying ontop of something she slowly opened her eyes and looked at what cushioned her fall, she was laying ontop of someones chest she then quickly got up trembling she reached down to see if this stranger was un harmed "i swear i didnt see you i-i was side tracked i am so sorry!.." she looked down at him and lifted the paper from his face she caught a glimps of pinks and blues looking at the paper it was one of the most beautiful intricate drawings she had ever seen. "Wow did you draw the-?" She suddenly stopped and looked down at him he was stocky and pretty scruffy he was darker than her but not much taller he wore a blue jersey and some black jeans. He was the most beautiful man she had ever encountered. He looked back up at her most of her body covered by a baggy jscket and jogger pants. "Yesh i did draw these." He said as he had been trying to pick them all up. "Sorry i shouldve watched where i was going." He chuckled showing his bottom snaggle tooth it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. She remained in awkward silence then handed him the paper and quickly sprinted off busting into the cafè. "Fuck that could've ended so terrible fuck fuck fuck." She muttered to herself then sat down at a table for a moment to gather herself. The hood of ger jacket fell down exposing her messy bun of very tight wavy almost black hair, her skin was very tan with an olive undertone, she had dark brown eyes and full lips. Her hand ran accros her jogger pocket to get her wallet but she didn't feel it in there she felt the other pocket not feeling it she started to panic all of a sudden the sunshine from the window was blocked, she looked up to see the handsome man she had crashed into moments earlier he had a slight grin holding her wallet. "I think this might be yours?... Carmen Rodríguez?" He said as he smiled looking at her id in the clear slot of the black wallet. Her face was flushed and she reached up for it. "Th-that's me...thank you for finding it i almost had a panic attack." She said and pushed a faint smile out. "Of course it was the least i could do for knocking into you." He put it in her hand. He had hairy arms and tattoos covering his hands clearly they went up into his sleeves. Her heart was fluttering she had never met someone so attractive before the feeling of bravery suddenly popped into her like someone filling a balloon then popping it. "Would you like to grab something to eat with me?" She asked hesitantly she was so scared he would say no. "Absolutely! I actually was on my way to eat anyways haha." He laughed and lit up like a fire. They both sat down and began to talk about everything and nothing she giggled and ate be did the same. He had revealed her name to him he was Christian pérez. "You were really born in puerto rico?" She asked with a fork in her hand. "Haha yeah i haven't been back to the island since i was 8 though. What about you little miss cubana hehe." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Ive actually never been to havana my abuelita said it wasnt a good place to go though. They are really in poverty its sad." He pushed a nervous chuckle. "Oh im sorry to hear that but hey can i get your number id love to do this again, if you would?" He said scooting forward getting his phone. The two exchanged numbers and left the café, as she walked into her mothers hospital room she smiled. "Mija you took forever i was worried." Her mother said looking up at her "im so sorry mamá. I kinda met a boy..." her mother jumped a little excitedly. "You did how did it go??" Her mother was full of questions all afternoon they talked. She kissed her mother goodnight and walked outside to go home. She had let her long hair down to breath a little as she smiled walking home. The breeze blew through the building and past her. She felt happy but she kept thinking about the secret she didn't tell him. A few weeks had passed and carmen was on her front step getting ready to play her music, she was wearing a pair of light blue torn short shorts with a black crop top with roses right on top of her small breasts. She was waiting for Christian sitting on the concrete railing she wasn't paying attention behind her all of a sudden two big arms wrapped around her waist and a scratchy short beard burried into her neck. "Im either being attacked by a big foot or my date has finally shown up." She giggled. "Why not both!" He kissed her cheek and she turned around and gave him a big hug. The two were going to his mothers house for dinner. They held hands as they walked along the sidewalk. "I hope she doesn't hate me." She said looking forward. "Why would she hate you?" He looked down at her. "I dont know i kinda look like a hooker." She giggled covering her mouth because she was insecure about her smile. "Id sure pay for you you." He smiled and kissed the top of her head. The two stopped at a big red door and he knocked. Moments later a older woman with short curly dark hair opened the door she had a red night gown on. "Mijo! Youre late!" She gave him a big hug and then looked at carmen. "And you must be carmen he did say you were beautiful he was very right!" The old woman chuckled and walked in her house as did the two could. The smell of home cooked food filled the small apartment and the table had been set. "You two pull up a chair and dig in carmen honey you look like you're wasting away." Carmen giggled and sat down scooping a big plate of rice. After everyone had eaten and got aquatinted Christian held Carmens hand showing him his old room she sat on the bed looking at all the anime posters. "Wow this sure is...something." She said as she looked around "yah im a nerd." he stood in front of her and she stood up he ran his hand along the side of her neck his fingers going into her kitchen area the black wavy hair was soft to the touch and felt like silk against his fingers she closed her eyes and felt his hand with hers they werent much bigger but hers were much softer. "Carmen youre the first girl ive ever technically dated and i dont know im truly falling for you." He said looking into her eyes his eyes were brown and the other a hazel color she got lost in them on multiple occasions. He slowly leaned in to kiss her feeling her soft rose petal like lips against his, she slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck and kissed back. Suddenly they fell onto his childhood bed and rolled over to where she was ontop. Her hair kept falling into his face so he held it up for her. He slowly felt his hand up to her chest grabbing at one of her breasts, her heart began to pound faster in her chest she slowly lifted her shirt off exposing her small breasts. She was embarrassed at the size and shape but all he coukd think about was how beautiful she was he reached up and kissed the top of her breast making his way up to her neck leaving a trail of blue-green bruises he slowly reached into her pants she was so caught up in the moment of feeling like a normal girl she forgot about her little secret. His finger tips felt a slender sausage like appendage be reached his hand back and she realized what happened. "Chris..i-i can explain." He stood up and looked at her and started removing his shirt. She was confused as he lifted uo the black shirt he revealed a binder covering his chest. She was astonished and jumped up into his arms she held him tightly and kissed him deeply she felt relieved and free like a bathtub of water was drained and let off of her. "I never knew babe.." she said as she looked in his eyes "that makes two of us hehe." He giggled and kissed her again.

Get Back Up and Get Mean  15 Weeks To Go (09-17-18)

5 Beer Football 

Alright, well… I had 5 beers yesterday and didn’t even think twice about my 2 drink rule! haha! So that is kind of embarrassing.. just forgot about it… a lot of writing this blog is embarrassing actually. Self-correcting in a pretty public way is not something one would typically choose to advertise, but I am attempting to be as open and honest as I can be, in case I do to reach some noticeable change or some of my goals.. I can show that it wasn’t easy like it always seems to sound when someone reports they did some thing that you always wanted to do but seemed so hard.. when someone announces they did X or achieved Y… we imagine other people just have some will power or some way of thinking that allows them to reach certain goals or whatever, but really everyone is a fucking mess, we just rarely see that part of the journey.. maybe.. maybe reading this.. you just see a messy journey and no goals achieved! and I’m wrong! ha! other “goal-achieving-people” do really have some magical will power well they draw from that the rest of us shitheads won’t ever have access to… but I doubt it ;)

The Power of Platitudes (or things similar to platitudes)

I find that I’ve been gathering platitudes that resonate over the course of this blog and the self-reflection required to make it remotely interesting.. platitudes have some value.. they suck when you’re heart broken, but for the most part they do contain some truth and the one I came to early this past week was Get Back Up. And that’s what I think the real secret to all this shit is. It’s not about being perfect in a straight line or about remaining true or pure. I think it’s just about stumbling and getting back up.. over and over again. And realizing that makes it easier to do it. Some days are harder than others, but if you know that all you really have to do to get 70% of the way to the finish line is get back up again.. drag yourself into the gym or sit down in front of the laptop or notebook or whatever.. even when you.. especially when you don’t feel like you’ve got the proper funk for the gig.. just go autopilot for a bit and go through the motions.. if you can do that, you can do the thing.. one pebble at a time. It’s not one thing that you figure out and solve.. it’s not one profound insight you have and then all the rest is easy, it’s getting the fuck up from a million little knock downs - emotionally, financially, physically.. self-inflicted or external.. you just have to Get.. Back.. Up!

(charting my workouts on a calendar makes me want to keep filling in the calendar.. and therefore, gets me in the gym. whatever works. #ocdbenefits) 

Mad-Dog Mean

So I’ve been trying to keep that in mind this week. And hopefully for much longer. And another thing that I’ve found useful in doing so is this quote my pop has in his den from Josey Wales, who is apparently only a fictional character potentially loosely based on some Missouri outlaw, but the quote next to the cheesy picture of Clint Eastwood I find nonetheless useful and inspiring in the tougher moments.. “Now remember, when things look bad and it looks like you're not gonna make it, then you gotta get mean. I mean plumb, mad-dog mean. 'Cause if you lose your head and you give up then you neither live nor win. That's just the way it is.” I really love this quote. Not sure why it works so well for me, but it seems to fill me with the fire of an underdog about enter the scene in the movie where hella ass is kicked by me.. and that kind of meanness feels good. Grit, I suppose.. and while it may not be motivated by the most modern day happy hippy peace vibes, it works. Sometimes the obligation to always work things out by calling up gratitude and awareness just annoys the shit out of me, so while I am all about gratitude and I do love the happy hippy vibes as well, sometimes.. fuck all that.. :) Sometimes you gotta get mean!

Get Back Up and Meditate?

Meditation app says I did 10 mins on Wednesday, so.. doubled my focus from last week HA!! but.. not quite 3 sits.. and I thought about it all weekend. Definitely had the time on Saturday and Sunday as well as a few chances during the week. Just as a reminder, I’m not doing the meditation b/c I want to join a Whole Foods checkout counter wellness magazine cult.. I find that it makes me less explosively ridiculous about the little annoying things like getting my headphone cord tangled around a door handle. When I’m meditating regularly I will still most likely explode and attack the door as if it had just tried to mug my grandmother.. but after that, I cool down so much faster and laugh at myself instead of getting twisted into some meaningless state of anger for who knows how long.. and sometimes I even laugh at myself before ruining surrounding property :) Interesting to note that the “Get Back Up philosophy” lines up with the core of meditation practice as well b/c, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned previously, it’s all about “beginning again.” One minute you’re focused on your breath and you can feel your body in perfect alignment and you’re kind of buzzing and almost floating (experienced super-rare milliseconds of this) and the next thing you know you’ve been thinking about why the girl at the gym counter seems to always have an attitude (90% of meditation is actually this).. you have to just begin again.. without getting pissed at yourself.. which is just another distraction. 

So... Get Back Up.. and get plumb, mad-dog mean when you have to ;) 

Thanks for reading. I love y’all. Thanks for the kind words. This thing is almost over. Only 15 weeks to go! Great time to redouble your efforts and start that last push for whatever your New Years resolutions might have been. Peace! #joseywales

15 Favorites of 2017

There’s a ton of ‘best of 2017′ lists out there already, so this is simply some favorites from the year in no particular order. Not going to go into too much detail, just talk about each album in retrospect.

Code Orange - Forever [Metalcore]

A very dark album, teeming with visceral and gut-wrenching synths and effects that combine with the vocals to send chills down the spine. Had a chance to see these guys live back in October, and they do not disappoint. Right off the bat, the song ‘Forever’ makes you feel like a lost child wandering down a dark alley to the depths of hell. Code Orange does have a melodic side as well, displayed through the song ‘Bleeding In The Blur,’ one of my favorites on the album. 

After dragging you through half an hour of fear and intensity, the album ends on a quiet note with the song ‘dream2,’ which makes you think, “Did I really just listen to that?”  If you’re into heavier music, check this out; it makes you want to throw things.

https://open.spotify.com/album/2V7axnEU5HQoN9Tu5JVl4S

Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. [Hip-hop/Rap]

No iteration of a ‘best of 2017′ list would be complete without this somewhere on it. There’s not much to say that hasn’t already been said; Kendrick reinvents himself yet again on his darkest record yet in terms of theme. The album tells the story of his death, and his sense of feeling completely alone and discriminated against (basically the expression on the cover). 

He also addresses political opinions that many had throughout 2017, as well as what might happen after death. DAMN. sees Kendrick fight an internal battle with his own ego, and whether he is successful or not is up to the listener. The production on this is fantastic, and he never misses a single beat. If you haven’t heard this yet, what is wrong with you?

https://open.spotify.com/album/4eLPsYPBmXABThSJ821sqY

Pallbearer - Heartless [Doom/Progressive Metal]

Are there any lighthearted albums on this list? Considering the year 2017, probably not. ‘I Saw the End’ might be my favorite song of the year, it’s just way too epic. Another heavy record, but in a different way than ‘Forever.’ The guitars combine with the clean vocals to produce a looming yet beautiful and melodic experience. The production is top-notch, with layer upon layer of awesomeness; if you listen to this with headphones, you will feel right in the middle of a symphony of glorious doom. 

Lyrically, the album is a reflection of the title and cover art, I’ll leave it at that.  The songs on here are all upwards of 5 minutes, so prepare to sit back and listen to a true LP. When life gets you down, listen to this and feel worse yet better. Seriously though, it’s pretty great.

https://open.spotify.com/album/5ypceLbDsUJywcccmyVtn2

Brand New - Science Fiction [Alternative/Rock]

Nope, no happy albums. But then, most of this band’s lyrics have never been exactly positive. Lead singer Jesse Lacey constructs his songs with blistering cold imagery through such metaphors as these lines from the album’s first track, ‘Lit Me Up’:

“Like an ember in the needles of a dried out pine Lit me up and I burn from the inside out Yeah, I burn like a witch in a Puritan town”

That’s just bleak, but that makes it perfect for a 2017 album list. ‘Can’t Get It Out’ ended up being another one of my favorite songs of the year, despite being a song about depression. It truly displays Brand New’s instrumental technicality and expertise, while the song ‘Same Logic/Teeth’ demonstrates their ability to instantly switch from a soaring opus of a chorus to a quiet reflection. The production is well above average, allowing you to hear every indentation in Lacey’s vocals, every distortion in the guitars and synths, every crash of the drums in perfect clarity.

This album is an Alternative masterpiece, and provides yet more thoughts on some of the feelings going on in 2017.

https://open.spotify.com/album/0CuR6Mppen7l6GRFwzNJbl

Tyler, The Creator - Flower Boy [Hip-hop/Rap]

I never thought I’d enjoy a Tyler, The Creator album since hearing 2011′s ‘Goblin.’ Just a little too weird. But... I ended up liking this one quite a bit. Tyler is extremely personal on this record, as well as more serious than in his previous work. At the same time, he’s still expressing himself in a way that is not to be heard anywhere else. 

Tyler asserts his true identity (the song ‘Who Dat Boy’), acknowledges hurtles he has had to overcome (on the song ‘Pothole’), and even discusses ordinary feelings that everyone has (the song ‘Boredom’). The overall message of the album is expressed through the title of the last track, ‘Enjoy Right Now, Today.’ Don’t let life’s downs stop you from being great and enjoying life for what it is, and being the person you are. 

His themes are all expressed with some of the most bizarre beats and effects, but this is part of the appeal; this record is one of the most unique of 2017. If you’re looking for a refreshing departure from average rap music, check this out.

https://open.spotify.com/album/2nkto6YNI4rUYTLqEwWJ3o

Sampha - Process [Electronic/R&B/Soul]

I almost forgot about this one. Sure glad I didn’t! The single best soul record of 2017, without question. I had no idea who Sampha was before this, but he’s got some serious potential and I can’t wait for his next release. His voice is beyond captivating, drawing you in to the world of reflection and introspect he has created. The production is flawless and every breath of Sampha’s feels like your own.

The album’s lyrics explore themes of anxiety, sadness, mortality, appreciation, regret, and pretty much every other human emotion or thought in existence. ‘Under,’ my favorite song on the album, is a metaphor on the powers of seduction. As with all songs on the record, the listener is pulled into Sampha’s thought process and exposed to his ruminations. Listen to this album for an unparalleled intellectual and pleasurable experience.

https://open.spotify.com/album/2gUSWVHCOerKhJHZRwhVtN

Dying Fetus - Wrong One To Fuck With [Death Metal]

I would be absolutely lying if I said I did not love this one. Now, I know this is certainly not to everyone’s taste. But, if you love death metal, or are curious, give it a listen! It looks horrible, and it really is, but that’s the beauty of it. It is a relentless onslaught of brutally wrenching guitars, guttural screams, and tearing blast beats that assaults the ears with sheer force. In other words, awesome. This stuff is perfect for running, lifting weights, whatever; just the right amount of motivation to make you want to fuck shit up. Not literally, of course.

Lyrically... it’s best to not understand the lyrics and just jam out. Not much more to it than that. I wish I could convince you of the value that this will add to your life, but I probably can’t. If you’re looking for positively destructive, lightning fast fretwork that will leave your neck sore, look no further. If not... it’s death metal. I like it.

https://open.spotify.com/album/0eZiXvvAJcvONgxZJAo3Ms

Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva Is A Mighty Long Time [Hip-hop/Rap]

Who knew there was such a thing as southern hip-hop? This is fun, light-hearted rap with southern gospel elements to it. What do I mean by fun? Listen to the track ‘Subenstein’ and you’ll find out. 

The first half of this double album is focused on fast, punching bangers, while the second half is chorus heavy and gospel influenced. Songs like ‘Aux Cord’ and ‘Big Bank′ on the first half showcase K.R.I.T.’s prime rhyme skills, while the excellent rap-gospel blend ‘Keep The devil Off’ on the second half displays his successful fusion abilities.

The humorous ‘Classic Interlude’ satirizes the idea that not all might enjoy the blend of two musical styles that K.R.I.T. explores, but it really is well done and makes this album a standout of 2017.

https://open.spotify.com/album/6vGEX2ejVVsHTIsqI1teZg

August Burns Red - Phantom Anthem [Metalcore]

More metalcore, but in a much different style than Code Orange. By comparison, ABR are much more optimistic and uplifting (considering their beliefs). Each of their albums seems to improve on the last one, which not many bands/artists can lay claim to these days. Vocalist Jake Luhrs truly embodies this in that he has sounded better and better on each record since 2009′s ‘Constellations’ (one of my favorite albums of all time). His utterances make each breakdown majestic and aggressive.

Something the band has been doing recently (especially on their last two albums) is adding instrumental experimentation to their songs. ‘Hero Of The Half Truth’ has a peaceful and serenading section in the middle of the song where you can just sit back and enjoy the skill of the guitarists and drummer, before being abruptly forced back into the heightened intensity that the track starts with.  

 On the song ‘Coordinates,’ ABR begin with an almost surf-rock feel before immediately bursting into a metalcore onslaught, followed by a gospel-esque chorus of clean vocals. Their songs are not average metalcore, but each is a complex and well-crafted piece with varying elements. That is what makes this band so exciting to me, in addition to being one of the most consistent bands of this generation. They are not afraid to experiment, and they more than succeed at it. 

Even if you aren’t crazy about the screamed vocals, appreciate this album for the fantastic instrumental work that makes it truly good music, not just a metalcore album.

https://open.spotify.com/album/5raPbxzLIp6YJTN5jyyT2f

Paramore - After Laughter [Pop/Rock/Alternative]

An enjoyable record for a lot of reasons, but one is the retro 80s instrumentation present on songs like ‘Hard Times,’ ‘Rose-Colored Boy,’ and ‘Told You So.’ As with past albums, vocalist Hayley Williams examines themes of love and relationships (especially characterized by the song ‘Forgiveness’). Such themes are not usually my go-to when listening to music, but Paramore expresses them in a way that gets the feet tapping.

One of the things that make Paramore appealing is the crisp and clean bass-line present in the background of many of their songs, and that is no exception on this album. Terrific production is a necessity to appreciate great instrumentals and background vocals, which this album definitely has. 

Overall a fun project that I can appreciate for what it is: songs about break-ups, drama, and luvvy-duvvy feelings that you might experience in high school. It’s not overly complex, but it’s fun to listen to.

https://open.spotify.com/album/1c9Sx7XdXuMptGyfCB6hHs

Mastodon - Emperor of Sand [Progressive Metal]

Returning to darker themed work, this is a concept album about death and decay, inspired by the band’s experiences with loved ones who suffered the experiences associated with cancer.

The Emperor depicted on the cover is cursed and condemned to death in the desert, but survives in the end. At the helm of this story is the progressive machine that is Mastodon. The vocals on the album are as vivid and attracting as the colors on the cover. The drumming is very technical and methodical, and the guitars are layered to perfection. And the guitar solos throughout the album are spectacular (this is really shown on the song ‘Steambreather,’ another of my favorite songs of 2017). 

The hulking epic of a song ‘Jaguar God’ at the end of the album is an 8 minute prog masterpiece that depicts an encounter with a god. Indeed, the song is an example of prog divinity, at the very least. If the idea of music painting a picture appeals to you, and you like guitar solos, listen to this (and if you like it, check out the ‘Cold Dark Place’ EP they released as well).

https://open.spotify.com/album/1VzmKgEG38fsUBZVe15wuF

https://open.spotify.com/album/6uSD9SU0j8xgQAIxzPg0Fv

Young Thug & Carnage - Young Martha EP [Hip-hop/Rap]

A short but enjoyable project, keeping up the different style of Young Thug as seen on albums like ‘JEFFERY’ and ‘Beautiful Thugger Girls.’ ‘Liger’ is easily my favorite song on the EP, the beat is simple and attractive. Young thug’s high-pitched vocals are definitely not for everyone, but this EP is a good starting point for getting into him. As it’s not lengthy, you can decide if you love his style or hate it. 

Carnage does a pretty good job with the production as well, giving the vocals a nice echo and building the beats around them. There’s not really much else to say as this is only 15 minutes long. However, if you enjoy it like I did, it can be used as a gateway into some of Young Thug’s other work.

https://open.spotify.com/album/1uPwwIkzsCOanBsLExFitZ

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Polygondwanaland [Progressive/Pyschedelic Rock]

These guys are crazy. Absolutely insane. 5 albums in the year 2017, all quality. Almost seems impossible. As the band and album names imply, there is nothing quite like this band in the music industry today. There always seems to be something outrageous or different associated with their music. As examples, 2016′s ‘Nonagon Infinity’ consisted of 9 songs that could be played in a constant, endless loop to sound like one giant continuous song. An earlier album from 2017, ‘Flying Microtonal Banana’ saw the band experimenting with microtonal tuning in a way quite unlike anything else. 

The point is, this band is one of the most interesting groups at work. I chose this album for this list purely out of personal preference. Pretty much everyone is going to prefer a different King Gizzard album over the others. Their music is diverse enough that it accommodates many different musical tastes. 

Each song on this record transitions perfectly into the next in a subtle yet telling manner, and the music itself is reminiscent of psychedelic groups of the past such as Cream and Yes mixed with more modern prog bands such as Porcupine Tree. Probably a great band to listen to while stoned. The only way to somewhat understand what I’m talking about is to jump into their music, and hear yourself say, “what the hell am I listening to” (in a good way). 

 https://open.spotify.com/album/3esB4Gl0K2LKCgACUJa3mu

Vince Staples - Big Fish theory [Hip-hop/Rap]

Vince Staples is one of the best up-and-coming rappers out there. His second album sounds like rap from the future; heavily electronic and machine-like instrumentals that echo from the distance. I would almost venture to describe it as alternative hip-hop. Stuff you might hear in a dance club 50 odd years from now on a dark rainy night.

Vince reflects on his journey as an artist on songs like ‘Big Fish’ and ‘745′ (two of my favorites), and combines this with his personality and normal life on ‘Homage.’ As mentioned earlier, he is rapping over very metallic and dance-oriented beats, something that is separate from his past work.

I enjoy ‘Big Fish Theory’ precisely because it is so different from what Staples has done before; he is reinventing himself and his capabilities on this album. If non-traditional hip-hop is appealing to you (in the same vein as ‘Flower Boy’), give this album a try.

  https://open.spotify.com/album/5h3WJG0aZjNOrayFu3MhCS

Father John Misty - Pure Comedy [Folk/Rock]

Father John Misty (Josh Tillman) comes through with something truly special on this album. Every aspect of the human condition is identified and examined, especially on the title track. Tillman has a truly wonderful voice (aside from that he somewhat reminds me of Bob Dylan without the harmonica). 

Pretty much every question and facet of life is covered in the album: life, death, the afterlife, innovation, politics, and even social media. One thing that makes this album a certain pleasure is that the vocals and much of the instrumentation were recorded live, so it is like attending a concert established just for your ears. It’s really interesting to hear his opinions on the meaning of life, check this out if you feel like hearing, as Tillman himself puts it,  

“Another white guy in 2017 Who takes himself so goddamn seriously.”

https://open.spotify.com/album/3CoFoDt6zt5EKxmTpOX32b

If you read any of this and enjoyed it, thanks!

A Life of Riley Part 4: The Dumptrucks of the Gods ch 4

Chapter 3

IV

With all the work that we had to do in the lab over the next two weeks, I almost forgot about Mel and the fish – Mel and her bizarre grinckle-reducing station that turned out to be, exactly as Carolína must have half-suspected, dug in to the machine room under the undergrad lab members' condo.  She was down there, under a fume hood with a gas mask and a kitchen knife, probably making the ghost antsy by stealing its food to run through her essentializing processes, and after we'd finished getting all of the rest of the dislocator parts out of the machine room, we were back day and night in the lab, finishing the assembly as Riley converted prior versions of the dislocation machinery into this new so-called Raging Potato.  I slept under the drill press again, missing Simon terribly, and in every waking moment I ate, drank, sat, fidgeted and daydreamed high-energy physics and circuit design.  In a fugue of machinery noise from everyone working around us mixed with abrasive Ash Borer and Netra echoes from the buds on the top of my ears, I worked and reworked the abstract mathematical calculations required to parse through the state space, built DIs and cannibalized old printer cables into control harnesses, and fabricated random chunks of metal to Riley's inexplicable, incomprehensible blueprints.  

We were all in; all of us, Carolína and Sajitha and Riley and me switching on and off through every single part of the Potato's subsystems from control software to turning bolts in the outer housing, and because the work was so great, and Riley was so adamant about its completion, we ended up impressing the others: Leo assembling parts together, running harnesses and checking cables, and Remy building the larger parts of the frame together and checking the composition of our few coolant or hydraulic systems, making sure there wouldn't be a corrosion or fault risk once the horrific energies we planned to operate at started thundering through this imposing pile of metal and wire wrapped around the better part of a thermonuclear bomb.  There was well more than enough work for all of us – even as we got the frame assembled and the control systems built and integrated, there was always something more to do: automation routines that needed optimization, heavy-duty power cables from the capacitor cells in to the reactor that needed to be audited and repaired, more capacitor power supplies that just needed to be built and sealed and tested for function.  Check it, test it, rebuild it, repeat, continue.

I was in the middle of one of these cycles adding in a few functions to the control software for the power-transfer circuit board that was going to manage the dump-in of the initiation energy for us – there were too many supplies and not enough cables to do this by hand – when Riley brought me out of my trance, banging on the top of my monitor with a wrench.  "Yuping!  Yuping!  Wake up!  Are you done with the commit on the state-pathing decider?  What are you working on?"

I blinked and pulled my earbuds out.  "Yes, finished; commit is done back and build is building.    Making new control break in power-transfer onboard controller; almost done."

Riley held up a hand.  "Don't bother.  What we have should be good enough – if the lab doesn't melt when we shoot this off, we'll think about improvements for v2.  For right now, I need you to back up your station onto the department cloud share, and anything important that you have local on your phone or a flash drive, any paper drawings that you have notes on that you didn't put over to digital anywhere, you need to come over and throw it in Leo's duffel bag."  I stood up, following Riley's thumb back over to the doorway, where Carolína was struggling with a stack of rolled-up paper schematics and how to fit them into a barely-large-enough duffel that looked to already have a couple laptops inside.

I leaned back over and started the backup, then ejected my thumb drive and took the headphone cord out of my phone.  "Okay," I said, "Only drive and phone, not much on them, but why?"  Riley was already heading back over, and I followed, hoping for some kind of explanation before I got there.  There was a strange tang in the air, a taste even beyond the usual strange tastes we got in the lab from ozone and atmospheric metal pollution – a feeling like something was about to happen, like we were about to cross over a border.

"Your phone goes in the bag because I want to insulate us from observer effect," Riley said, shuffling at the insides of the duffel to make room, "and we're doing the backup and loading in everyone's removable data because I'm like eighty percent sure that after we go up, any state that we transition back to is going to be one where we smashed the Potato right up through the goddamn roof, and the lab is going to be wrecked."  I pulled up, stunned, thumb still on my phone, and Riley noticed, hastening with more of the explanation.

"Mel texted me a couple minutes back, and the grinckle potion is good to go.  So, we're going.  I know there's stuff that we want to fix, that we want to get improved, but we've been more or less ready to start up the Potato for most of the last fifteen hours, and it just happens that Mel is done with the fish stuff right when we're coming up on a flyby window where we'll have a relatively less-shitty path up to the ship.  I'd prefer to go in another three hours, when they'll be on their closest approach, but apparently there is some garbage about the fish chemicals having to be fresh that would make that harder – I don't pretend to know chemistry, much less alchemy, so I'm taking Mel's word on this one – and so we're going now, or at least as close to 'now' as we can get all our shit together.

"The cannon is loaded.  There are a couple of our modded nailguns already inside.  If you want to take a machete or something to mess up any aliens in person, you can go and take it.  Sajitha's downstairs picking up confined-space rebreathers from her co-workers in Facilities in case the oxygen concentrations inside the grinckle spawn areas are shitty.  And Melanie is on the way over with this filterized and essentialized or whatever theoretical pure concentration of grinckleness, which according to the stuff she was putting out in alternative journals about ham and crap, probably ought to modify our state coherence enough that a path to the grinckle originating point will be doable with our energy budget if we can get a close enough approach."

I was trying to think this through, to put all the pieces together, and with that, I could finally speak.  "Riley," I said, "so – plan is – plan is start up Potato and go to space?  To stop grinckles by fighting alien?"

Riley nodded, like there wasn't anything wrong or crazy in that sentence at all.  "Yeah, that's about the shape of it.  Maybe we'll be able to rip them to bits with the cannon and that'll be it, or maybe the satellite is an automated probe that someone else somewhere else is using to strew grinckles for the lulz, but if there are aliens on this alien satellite or alien spaceship, we're going to go kick the shit out of them till they stop.  You think we're not set up for it? I think that between the five of us we should have things pretty well under control: the nailguns aren't that great, but Remy's a taekwondo champ, Carolína's a mean hand with a machete, you're not so bad with one either, and I certainly wouldn't want to be in front of Sajitha when she's got her brass knuckles and a mad on.  Maybe some molotovs would help, but I dunno if we've got the time to buy gas, or if they'd burn in that atmosphere."  As usual, Riley was looking at this as a purely operational problem, with any ideas about the wisdom of going to space in an iron bucket by shifting its quantum reference frame to go fight aliens in the first place completely ignored.

"Five?" I asked, "Not Leo?"  I wasn't looking to try and talk Riley out of this plan, or to poke holes in it – I certainly didn't have a better and smarter idea for us or anyone else to do something about something that wasn't just in orbit but discontinuous with the observed local quantum state – but if I was going to go to orbit strapped in on top of a nuclear bomb, I wanted to have as much information about what we were trying to do as I could get.

"If you haven't noticed, it is kind of super cramped inside the Potato," Riley said, nodding over at the massive pile of steel and cables hogging most of the middle of the lab, "and even five is pushing it, but we can fit, and I need as much skills as we can lift up. Honestly, I really wish that I could leave you here and take Leo, because you're the only one on the crew that's really attached to anyone not stuck in it with us, but even with the autotune, you've got the best hand for state coherence out of all of us.  We're going to friggin space pasted on top of a self-containing tokamak: there is zero room for error here, so I've got to take the best, no ifs ands or buts.

"If we had the spare power and the internal volume, I'd want to take Leo, too," Riley continued, slapping him on the shoulder, "but we don't, and so he's got another important job down here: not just holding our stuff in the short term, but maybe holding onto the lab in the long term.  I'm not gonna say 'if anything happens' – if the engine's got something screwy in it that we couldn't get out with the diagnostics, well, that's a megaton and change of a physics package in there, and all our component atoms are gonna end up looking for new jobs real quick.  But if we don't turn this campus into a glowing hole on startup, and something happens later, then in that case, some future day when the administration wants to fund an AP lab again, then Leo is, not just by accident, exactly who I would want as a designated-survivor to continue the traditions of the Applied Physics lab as we are – not as we were, as we are – I'm not planning on getting any of us killed, or crushed by the roof, or marooned in space, not if I have anything to say about it." Leo still gulped at this; looking at him, I wasn't quite sure whether he was getting emotional at receiving Riley's trust, or about to have a panic attack thinking about what might go wrong when we started the reactor.

"You can, and you really should, take some time and like text or maybe call Simon," Riley said, nodding over at me unconcerned.  "We've got some time before Mel gets here with the grinckle juice, and I know it's not fair to put this on you with like, just today.  Just make sure that you get your phone in the bag, and you get your coveralls on before we have to load up."  I nodded and took a few steps off sideways towards the isolation fridge.

I opened up the phone contacts to call Simon directly, because I didn't want to end up vaporized and the last thing I said to him was something about making sure we ground up that one last avocado for guacamole before it went completely mushy.  The phone clock was showing 13:10, though; by now he was teaching a class, and if I called him, it would take him out of his class, and take him out of himself, and he'd be worried sick about me because I'd called instead of texted and that meant that I was worried, that it was not just possible but likely that I would actually end up dead in space.  I took a deep breath, and another, in and out.  I thought about what we were going to do, the state that the Raging Potato was in, everything we'd built and all the problems that we'd had, all the things that we fixed; where the last little bits were that we might have improved or reinforced if we had another day – the urgent ones that we might have been grinding on right now if we had another hour.  I knew everything – nearly everything – in this jumped-up dislocation chamber backwards and forwards, and in my view, everything was coming down to the very same thing.

There was exactly one point of significant difficulty in this entire system.  There was, in a high-level analysis, only one thing that could go wrong.  It would be hard to move the Potato into orbit by directly pathing across time-sequenced quantum states to displace it in x-y-z, but it was possible – it was what the dislocation circuits were kind of built to do.  If we had to board an alien ship, the atmosphere might be crap, but I knew enough astrobiology just from living with an astronomer that there were practically no atmospheric mixes that were both friendly to any of the possible energy-transformation paths associated with complex life and not fixable with a confined-space rebreather.  No, if something was going to go wrong, really wrong, it was going to go wrong from the start, when we dumped ninety gigajoules of energy into a decades-old nuclear weapon and crossed our fingers that the fusion reaction would start burning in exactly the way it was supposed to in order to contain itself, rather than expanding aggressively and immediately like every other hydrogen bomb of its generation.  That was it – that was the only part we hadn't tested forwards and backwards.  If the Ceiba worked as designed, we could go to space, and I would probably come back in one piece.  If it just blew up, there wouldn't be any time for regrets – and Wetmore Hall was only a couple hundred meters away, well inside the primary fireball at the yield Riley was estimating. If we went, we would go together.

I thumbed down to open a new text conversation and punched in my message:

> riley has me kind of stuck on a lab thing > I probably can't make dinner, out too late > and might be dangerous > well, little bit dangerous > so if something happen, remember, I love you

I held the power button down on the side of the phone, and walked back to toss it in the duffel.  Simon probably wouldn't see it until the end of his class, but it was okay: it would be less time for him to be worried, and if I could do that for him, I would.  Leo zipped up the bag around the phone, and I picked up my coveralls to start getting ready.

There was kind of a stir from out in the hall as I pulled the top part up to put my arms through; I looked back, and immediately saw why. There were people passing in the halls, and Mel Wolfram had come through the middle of them carrying a large thermos bottle wrapped in biohazard caution tape and wearing an army-surplus gas mask.  And not wearing it on top of her head, wearing it on the front of her face – it was Mel's hair and Mel's lab coat, so I could know it was her and not some cybergoth or something doing public performance art, but I had no idea how campus security had managed to not see her and decide she was a biological terrorist.  I zipped up quickly to get back with the others and get whatever Riley wanted with the contents of the bottle done before the police showed up.

This turned out not to be a thing: Riley hustled Melanie inside the lab, then securely closed the door behind her.  "Yuping, Remy, bring it in; Leo, you probably want to back off a little if you don't have a gas mask.  It's better if you stay inside for this part and then get clear with the bag later.  Speaking of gas masks," Riley continued, turning to Mel as she started cutting away at the tape around the thermos with a pocketknife, "what the hell?  I thought this was the deal that you would come up here with the stuff under containment.  And it at least looks like it is – why the mask on?"

"It is under containment," Mel replied, her voice muffled and modulated by the rubber mask and the charcoal filters, "but you can't be too careful.  It's metastable short-term, mostly, but if it let go in the car, I wouldn't've had time to pull the mask down and probably would have crashed into something."  The caution tape and what looked like several layers of plastic shopping bags were cut through, and the thermos bottle was now clear enough that she could start opening the top.  "And it's not just the smell – as it turned out, the best carrier compound for the Lebensfisk is high-proof tequila, so a significant spill would also be packing enough alcohol fumes to knock out a horse." This was sounding immediately bad for us as well as abstractly horrible – especially since Riley was scrounging up five mugs or cups or plastic screw caddies.

"Well, all right," Riley said, obviously not feeling it, "what matters is that you're here, not how much cop aggro you did or didn't pull on the way.  Hold off on pouring for a second; I've got to explain this to the crew, and if it's that bad I don't want to have it sitting out breathing while I convince them to stop wibbling and drink it."  Melanie nodded, keeping a hand over the bottle's screw-off plug, and the rest of us looked around at each other in open dread and horror as Riley began the explanation.

"So before you durfing mud turtle impersonators go and lose all your shit meeping about ham potions and 'scientifically ludicrous' and 'self-intentionally toxic' and other crap, look, this is the rules. Melanie has consumed a lot of her time and her effort and your basement demon's grinckles in order to make this valorized attunement solution, which she is calling Lebensfisk because she invented it, she gets to name it, and in recognition of that achievement, we are going to do shots with it before we fire the capacitors that are loading right now into the Potato and get moving."  I shot a quick look back at the capacitor banks; Riley must have started them up while I was getting changed, but they were loading in, the lights on the indicators showing them ramping on and on towards full charge.

"And I know, that's where you're gonna go next, omagawrf, you're gonna do shots and drive a nuke-powered high-energy relativistic Faraday cage to space.  Right, smart.  No. Look, it is one shot, nobody here is that lightweight, and we're gonna be lifting off by autotune anyway, there's no way that human beings could manage the state transitions manually until we get clear of the atmosphere and there's less particles to care about.  That is the point of the autotune, to handle state displacement in a 3-space-shifting frame of reference."  Riley took a deep breath and stabbed down with two fingers at the workbench.

"The point of this Lebensfisk thing is that when we intake it, in some form like this with the tequila carrier that gets the right concentrations in in the right way to make them biologically available – I'm stressing that it's done this way to not poison us, so can it – we shall attain a degree of elemental grinckleness that will make us stickier on states with high grinckle prevalence than would otherwise be the case.  This will help us conserve power as we approach the alien ship, because once we get above the atmosphere, that thing is going to be, relatively speaking, a goddamn grinckle gravity well, and we are going to effectively fall down the state space through it and then light up their shit."

"A grinckle gravity well," Carolína interrupted, her forehead in knots like she was having trouble wrapping her brain around how horrifically weird this whole idea was.  "A sort of philosophical presence turning into a fundamental force, which we tune to by magic. By magic fish tequila."  She was speaking for, I think, all of us – all of the rest of us who were struck dumb by how idiotic and unscientific this was, even in comparison to all the intensely strange and dubiously possible things that we usually did around the lab.

"Look, do not call it magic," Riley said, obviously put out, "this is a scientific institution and we are going to do goddamn science with this fish potion.  It's not magic: say rather 'experimentally indeterminate theorized applications of unverified principles responding to inadequately-investigated problem domains'.  We reason under incomplete information all the goddamned time; I don't know why this is special or why you're kicking about it."

"Because, Riley, the last time someone drank one of Mel's meat alchemy things, she had to go and get her stomach pumped," Remy answered, his voice cracking and hoarse.  "And that was with a neutral carrier – we're at college, ain't you heard that just tequila by itself is kinda constantly awful?"

"Mel had to get her stomach pumped because she drank a friggin gallon of the ham potion – you try drinking a gallon of something with that much salt in it and see how you feel," Riley shot back.  "This is a shot. This is for like today – it is not a whole life rejuvenation or in this case grinckleization treatment.  You will pound a shot of the Lebensfisk tequila – we will all pound a shot of the Lebensfisk tequila – and it will probably be awful, but we will get on with it and fire up the Potato and get over it.  Like I said: this is going to be hard as crap, and we have no room for error, so every corner I can work, I will do it – and if I'm doing it, then you're going to do it for state consistency."

This wasn't getting anywhere.  Riley was going to make us drink this fish poison, one way or another, and the only thing that would change would be how mad we all were at each other before we stuffed ourselves into a packing crate sitting on top of a hydrogen bomb.  I put up my hands.  "Okay," I said.  "Okay, it's bad. Will probably be very bad – might make worse.  But if works, then it's better – and if doesn't, we'll live.  This lab, we build cannon – we overvolt capacitor even if sometimes melt down – we find nuclear weapon lost in jungle and take home.  Can drink a fish cocktail that was in blender.  This is maybe least dangerous, least dumb, least bad thing we do today – let's do it, let's go."  I dropped my hands onto my knees with a slap, in resignation as much as anything.  The rest of the lab was looking at me; they still weren't any more enthusiastic about drinking Mel's grinckle thing, but at least it looked like the fight might be over.

Sajitha shrugged, and put her hands on her head.  "Fine!  Fine – all right, I'm in.  I'm with Yuping: this is going to be awful but it's got a long way to go before it's the dumbest thing we've done this week.  Let's just shoot 'em and forget this was ever a thing." Remy nodded, and Carolína took a deep breath to pull herself together.  Riley lined up the cups, and Mel braced herself over them, like she had to gather herself, even under her gas mask, before she opened up the bottle and released the horrifying stench inside.

Of course, she would – she'd made it, she knew what she was getting into.  The bottle opened, and the rest of us were almost bowled over by the indescribable brain-gnawing tidal waves of rotten, fermented fish stink somehow married to dead-at-ten-paces rotgut tequila fumes and blended up with the back-alley effluvium of a paint factory that decided illegal dumping fines would be cheaper than hiring someone to drag their garbage away.  The smell was so violently bad that I almost wondered if one of the capacitors had shorted, and was throwing a fatal arc through me, rewiring all my senses backwards before it burned the nerves completely away.  But no, I was not dead – I was still alive, and that meant that there was still my own tumbler of pureed dead grinckle sitting out in front of me.

I grabbed for it, and somehow around the weird blue and purple shadows that were blotching my vision from the fumes and the stench, I could see everyone else having the same idea: the longer these stupid, vile, insane beakers of poison were sitting on our lab bench rather than setting our guts on fire, the longer they were going to stink up the lab.  I threw my head back and slammed the shot – the double shot, there was more liquor in this cup than there had any right to be – at a single swallow, feeling the tequila hit my stomach like an exploding cannon round, and I fought down the urge to puke as the dirty-rutabaga-skin taste of a hundred or a thousand grinckles charged back up into my throat, back up into my nostrils.  This had better work – this had better frigging work – because if it didn't, there was nothing on earth that could redeem this obscenely stupid shot.

I braced myself on the bench, breathing hard; Remy was holding his stomach, wincing, Carolína had her coveralls ripped open at the neck, squeezing her throat and grimacing, and Sajitha, fists clenched into white knuckles, was shuddering with her head vibrating at a frequency we could barely get out of our power drills. Even Riley was looking knocked out, bleary-eyed and coughing, and Leo was backed up to the door, wide-eyed, like he couldn't wait to get the hell out of this place, the hell away before Riley came up with anything worse.

"All right," Riley said, back in command despite a last spluttering cough, "all right – that's it, that's it, let's go.  Get yourselves squared away and get in the Potato – we're gonna hit full power in about a minute and there's no need to wait a second longer than we have to.  Leo, Mel, get clear, close the door, lock up behind you; no observers, no observer effect."

"Good luck," Leo said, his voice showing exactly what he thought of our chances, as he closed the door behind them; inside the lab, Carolína had got her coveralls back together and her rebreather onto her belt, so I could give her a boost up into the Potato and climb up the Ceiba housing into the chamber after her.  Riley finished checking the cable connections from the capacitors in to the reactor initiator a few seconds later, and followed me up, locking down the panel to close us in.

"Sajitha, turn on the interconnect panel."  Sajitha turned on the panel that Riley meant, and because there was barely any way not to see it, how close we were all packed inside the metal dislocation cell, we all saw the capacitor banks all coming up green.  "Right – we're coming right up on full power.  Carolína, open the power-connection interlock, that's the key under your right elbow."  Carolína turned around, sort of, and fiddled with something in the wall of the chamber.  Something clicked up by the ceiling, and Riley opened up a metal latch cover to reveal an impressive button with a heavy idle-contact shield all around it.

"If you want to grab on to someone or something," Riley said, glancing over at the interconnect readout panel, "now would be a great time.  Otherwise, you're probably going to be holding mostly the floor until we get the hang of this.  Full power – firing in three – two – one –"  Riley's finger stabbed the jumpstart button, and ninety billion joules of electrical power dumped in through the ignition manifold, summoning Hardtack Ceiba forth from its sixty years of silence.  Just like that – that was it.

Chapter 5