#and the synth beat really feels pulsing

[cybrsan]

Light It Up! — K.HJ, P.SH

STORY SUMMARY: The year is 2077, and the world is a lawless dystopia where tech giants and major corporations hold all the power. Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are an infamous criminal duo who have made names for themselves fighting against the "techno brainwashing" of society. Discovering they're on the brink of getting caught, they decide to go out with a bang—and who better to help them than their favorite plaything?

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader x Park Seonghwa

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; criminal / cyberpunk / dystopian AU

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Arson, breaking and entering, clubbing, alcohol + drug use, pet names (doll, precious), rioting, violence

NSFW WARNINGS: Choking, creampie, cum stuffing, cunnilingis, deep throating, exhibitionism, fire play, fingering, free use, hair-pulling, knife play (light), multiple orgasms, play party, public sex, spitroasting, sub drop, threesome, overstimulation

A/N: Don't blame me, blame the MATZ m/v.

LINKS: Masterlist, cross-posted on AO3.

“And… there!” 

After days of meticulous planning, organizing, and making shady, back-alley deals, it’s finally done. The last camera is in position—everything is ready for the big event. All that’s left for you to do is step back and admire your work.  

Switching on your illegally procured holodeck, you press a few buttons and watch as the space around you completely transforms. What was once an abandoned warehouse is now a club that could rival any in the city center. Neon lights pulse to heavy synth, serving bots whiz from place to place,  and the makeshift bar looks inviting enough with rows of expensive bottles on display. Whether or not the liquor in the bottles is worth the price, well… Hopefully people will be too distracted to notice. 

The focal point, the one thing you are most proud of, is the transparent stage that extends at least 15 feet above the dance floor. Taking in the grandeur of it all is more than enough to get you excited for what's to come. You're certain that Hongjoong and Seonghwa will put on the performance of the century. 

Today is incredibly important for both of them, and the fact that they have trusted you enough to include you more than makes up for the long hours and strenuous work. They’re currently out setting up their "grand finale," which they have been painstakingly cryptic about. You have your suspicions, not that you need or even want to know the specifics. 

A low whistle pierces the air. "You really outdid yourself this time, doll." 

You turn to look at Seonghwa as he enters, and your heart practically skips a beat when you take in his appearance—he must have changed in preparation for the big event. His hair, pulled away from his face, lets you focus on his features; dark eyes, full lips, all beautifully accented by his smoky makeup. His outfit is one you haven't seen on him before, but it suits him perfectly, from the gold chains hanging around his neck to the deep cut of his silk shirt.  

"Thanks, Hwa," you reply bashfully, dusting off your hands on your jeans. "Just trying to do my part." 

He approaches you, a smirk tugging at his lips. The way he stares at you, drinks you in… it makes you feel like a prey animal who has found itself in the sights of a predator. You blush and cast your gaze to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the specks of dirt at your feet. 

"And you have done it spectacularly." He lifts your chin with his pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I think you deserve a reward." 

Seonghwa drops his gaze to your lips for just a moment before he leans in, closing the space between you with an almost agonizing slowness. The kiss is gentle and commanding all at once and you shiver, immediately pulling him closer. The fatigue, the stress—all of it melts away.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling on it with just enough force to make you gasp. His tongue slides expertly against yours, the taste of him something sweet and darkly rich, like cherry liquor. It’s addictive. But the moment ends too soon for your liking, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Seonghwa doesn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against yours as he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. He lets his touch linger as he traces a path down your neck, lithe fingers playing with the necklace dangling above your chest. Three dainty, silver hearts. One for you, one for Seonghwa, and one for—

The rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air, and your head snaps toward the sound just in time to see Hongjoong park his bike at the door. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair which you’re surprised to see is freshly dyed. It almost makes you laugh; of course even as he’s out running errands for his coup de grâce, he finds time for fashion.

“Not starting the party without me, I hope?”

Hongjoong’s heeled boots click pleasantly atop the concrete flooring as he walks over to the two of you. His synthetic fur coat is a bright orange, the complete opposite of what one might expect a criminal on the run to wear. But both he and Seonghwa have never been ones for hiding.

“Never,” Seonghwa replies, clapping a hand on the back of the younger’s neck. “Did you get it done?”

Hongjoong scoffs in a teasing manner. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Of course not.” Seonghwa squeezes Hongjoong’s neck once before letting go and clapping his hands together. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

A few hours later, the party is in full swing. The once-empty warehouse is now filled to the brim with people dressed in cloaks and masks for the sake of anonymity. Some are on the dance floor, grinding against each other, while others have drifted toward the bar, downing shots and laughing.

Toward the back of the room, there's a group huddled around a table, huffing glitter, black lace, and who knows what other kinds of drugs. Meanwhile, others are tangled together on couches, lost in the throes of ecstasy. The air is so thick with the smell of smoke and sweat that it almost makes you dizzy.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you against a warm body, and you gasp. “That’ll be us later, precious,” Hongjoong whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear. Your nervousness ebbs away, immediately replaced by eagerness.  “Do you like watching them? Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one being watched?”

You lean back against him, the hand around your neck a welcome pressure. “Both,” you breathe.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “Good.” 

He separates from you, and you turn to face him. He seems so confident, so excited, that it’s hard to believe he and Seonghwa are about to paint targets on both of their backs. Hit by a wave of anxiety, you lean forward and kiss him. He immediately reciprocates, nipping at your bottom lip and eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Kissing him is always different than kissing Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s kisses are controlled, with a hidden power brewing behind them. There’s always a promise of more, a hint at what is to come when he finally lets go. On the other hand, Hongjoong kisses with reckless abandon. He is uninhibited, always ready to devour you whole. When he pulls back, a string of spit hangs between you before snapping.

“You nervous?” You nod, and he gently tweaks your chin between two fingers. “Don’t be. Those tech bastards have no idea what we have in store.”

“I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“And we will be,” he assures you. "After everything goes up in flames. Trust me, precious. Trust us.”

“I do.” And it’s true. You trust them with everything that you have.

“That’s our girl.” He kisses you again. “It’s time to go live.”

You take out your holodeck, and with the click of a button, all the cameras you set up switch on. You hurriedly switch channels through all the local stations, thrilled to see that it worked and the entire club is being streamed live to every device in the city. 

You stop the music and make the lights go out, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. You shine one beam of light directly onto the stage and you watch as Seonghwa steps out to address the throng of people below. He is captivating and has no problem commanding all of the power in the room. 

“Welcome one and all,” Seonghwa begins, voice booming over the speakers. “If you’re here, it means you are brave enough to fight against the corporations that enslave our society!”  

Hongjoong steps up next to him, and while he’s smaller in stature, he exudes no less power. However, he stays silent as Seonghwa continues, “We will not be silenced any longer. Tonight, we raise our voices in defiance; we will no longer bow down to those who seek to control us!” 

The crowd explodes into thunderous applause but immediately falls silent when Hongjoong raises a hand. "But tonight isn’t just about the revolution—it is also a celebration of our freedom, our individuality, and our unity. So let loose because everyone in the city is watching and we all know that, deep down, they wish they were us!” 

Cheers and shouts fill the room once again as everyone raises their glasses in solidarity. Your heart swells with pride as you take it all in. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself and, just like your boys, you are willing to do whatever it takes to see it through to victory.

You switch the music and lights back on and the party resumes in full force. People seem to go even harder than they were before, playing up their hedonism for the cameras. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have disappeared into the crowd, likely to mingle and spread their message one-on-one. 

Seonghwa favors the dance floor, hypnotizing those around him as he moves. A contented smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his hips sway to the beat, as beautiful as he is provocative. He flits from person to person, holding them close as he whispers into their ears. He occasionally catches you watching him, always making sure to tease you with a wink. 

On the other hand, Hongjoong stalks the perimeter of the room, moving from group to group. His skill lies in charming people with his words, and tonight is no different. Everyone who speaks to him smiles and laughs, completely enamored with everything he says. He shakes hands, claps shoulders, and you have no doubt that if people weren’t loyal before, they will be when he’s through.

You stick to one of the quieter corners of the room in order to keep an eye on the cameras. You need to make sure that everything is running smoothly both in and out of the club; the last thing you need is for someone to reveal your location or try to hack into your network and ruin everything. You also keep a close eye on your boys, making sure they stay safe.

It’s past midnight by the time they come and find you. Hongjoong sits on your left, placing a hand on your thigh as he leans toward you and kisses your cheek. His lips linger a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he purrs, “You should be out there, dancing, having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you say, taking the champagne glass offered to you by Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa sits on your right, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “You would be having even more fun if you put down the holodeck.” 

“But—”

Hongjoong takes it from you, throwing it haphazardly onto the cushion beside him. “Don’t argue.” 

He leans forward again, this time lightly nibbling your earlobe with his teeth. You gasp, knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on your glass out of instinct. Seonghwa watches the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his hand trailing down your side and slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace patterns over your flushed skin.

“It’s a night for celebration, doll,” he murmurs. “You have done your job. The only thing we need from you now is… well, you.” He squeezes your hip and you jump slightly. “The badges will be here in a little over an hour according to one of my sources. While not as long as I’d like, it gives us just enough time to have a celebration of our own.”  

Your thighs clench in anticipation—you know exactly what he’s hinting at. 

"Lead the way, then," you say, setting your half-empty glass down.

Seonghwa’s gaze meets Hongjoong’s over your head, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They stand up and pull you toward the dance floor, surrounding you, one at your front and one at your back. You sway between them to a slow, seductive rhythm, closing your eyes as you let yourself enjoy their attention.

Seonghwa’s hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him as he starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, grinding against you. Meanwhile, Hongjoong cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip. His eyes are dark and intense as he captures your mouth with his own in a searing kiss. 

Seonghwa’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he watches Hongjoong devour you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other snakes around to cup the back of Hongjoong’s neck, causing the younger to moan into your mouth at the touch. Now with a possessive grip on you both, Seonghwa gets to work nipping and marking the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

The room seems to disappear around you as they continue to explore you, their mouths and hands feeling like they are everywhere at once. It's intoxicating, even more so than the champagne you were drinking earlier. You feel Seonghwa’s hand trail even lower, disappearing under your waistline, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin.

You gasp and Hongjoong laughs against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s give them a good show, hm?” 

You let the two of them drag you onto the stage, cheeks ablaze as you realize exactly what they’re planning. You’re hyper aware of the fact that you are being watched; even though most of the club-goers are lost in their own pleasure, the viewers that are steaming have nothing better to do than keep their eyes locked on you. 

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Look at our girl, acting so shy.” His fingers find your heart necklace, tugging at it just hard enough to make you gasp. “As if wearing this doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want to you, whenever and wherever we want.” 

Hongjoong takes a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open with a maniacal grin on his face. He uses it to cut away your clothes, exposing your body for everyone to see. Your knees shake and whether it is out of anxiety or anticipation, you can’t tell. 

He traces the tip of it against your skin, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We know you love it, precious,” he says. “Don’t you want everyone to see how good we make you feel? Think of all the viewers out there that will feel oh-so-scandalized but still won’t be able to look away. Not to mention all the greedy whores who will be getting themselves off to us, wishing they were in our places.” 

Seonghwa pulls you against him just like he did on the dance floor, once again letting his fingers tease his way down your stomach. But this time, he lets them travel even lower, dipping into your folds. 

“Look how wet you are just from this,” he remarks, bringing his fingers back up and spreading them so you can see the evidence of your own desire. He then extends them to Hongjoong who greedily laps at them, sucking them clean. 

You whine, trying to keep your legs closed from embarrassment, knowing anyone below the stage can look right up at you and see exactly how aroused you are. But Seonghwa won’t let you, shoving his knee between your thighs. Almost instinctively, you grind down on it, letting another pathetic sound slip past your lips. 

Hongjoong’s eyes glint with wicked delight at your reaction, his own hands reaching out to cup your breasts. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, tweaking a nipple between two fingers.

You hear a few wolf whistles from the crowd, a few lewd comments being thrown your way, but they only make you more excited. 

“I…” You’re panting heavily, making it hard for you to speak. You have to take a deep breath before trying again. “I want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Seonghwa coos, returning his attention to your core. He pushes in one finger all the way to his knuckle with no warning and, if it weren’t for his hold on you, your legs would have buckled. 

“Fuck.” The curse slips from your lips, half whimper, half moan, as he continues pumping his finger inside your wet heat. 

Hongjoong lowers his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he pinches and tugs at the other. You grip his shoulders for purchase as your head lolls back to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, whining at the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of Seonghwa inside of you while Hongjoong lavishes his attention on your breasts is unlike anything you have ever felt. 

As Seonghwa adds another finger, Hongjoong’s lips mark a path from your breasts, to your stomach, and then lower as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, just as his tongue finds your clit. His tongue draws figure eights around it as Seonghwa continues to pump his fingers relentlessly inside of you. 

“T-too much…” you gasp. But neither of them slow down—if anything, feeling how close you are makes them double down on their efforts. Hongjoong sucks your clit into his mouth at the same time Seonghwa adds a third finger, curling them inside of you. 

Seonghwa kisses the back of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. 

That small bit of praise is all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge, eyes rolling back as your body goes taut with pleasure. Hongjoong eagerly laps up your release, only prolonging your orgasm. Seonghwa gently removes his fingers from you and you hear rather than see when he brings them to his mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. 

Hongjoong pulls back, licking his lips to clean them of your release before his trademark smirk returns. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor, precious. Don’t you think, Hwa?” 

Seonghwa trails a hand down your spine, humming. “I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“I can,” you gasp, eager to please them just as they did you. “I can, I promise. Anything you want.” 

You almost jump from surprise as some spectators in the crowd start yelling their vulgar suggestions as to how exactly they think you should please your partners. You’re sure if you looked at your holodeck, the live chat would be filled with similar comments as well. 

Hongjoong laughs, grabbing your face in his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You can have us however you like.” 

Blushing, you say, “You choose.” 

His eyes light up and he immediately looks behind you to Seonghwa. Just like earlier, some sort of silent communication passes between them, and then you feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, urging you to bend over. 

“Why don’t you show our Joong what that pretty mouth of yours can do while I fill you up, hm?”

You barely have enough time to nod your agreement before Hongjoong is unbuckling his belt and freeing himself of his constraints. You nearly salivate at the sight of his cock, red and wanting. He grabs your hair and pulls, tugging you forward as much as he can with Seonghwa’s bruising grip on your waist keeping you in place. Tears prick at your eyes but it’s as pleasurable as it is painful, and you take him into your mouth eagerly.

The head of Seonghwa’s cock teases your folds before he finally pushes forward into you. He starts moving at a slow, torturous pace, pulling out of you before slamming right back in. Each thrust propels you forward, forcing you to take Hongjoong deeper into your mouth. You feel so full, so used. It’s incredible.

“Look at her,” Hongjoong coos, staring down at you. “Look at how well she takes us.” 

Seonghwa just groans, grinding into you so deeply that you have to choke back a moan around Hongjoong’s cock. He’s gotten quieter, his thrusts sloppier, a telltale sign that he is losing himself in his own pleasure. Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s grip tightens around your hair, guiding your head back and forth on his length. Each thrust cuts off your air supply, making you see stars.    

Seonghwa’s hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. You moan again, and Hongjoong echoes you as the vibrations travel up his cock. 

“Shit,” he curses. “So fucking good.” 

Seonghwa’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic and you hear his breath hitch; instinctively, you clench around him, and he spills into you. His release sends you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, walls fluttering around him as you milk his cock of every drop. 

Hongjoong pulls out of your mouth not long after, squeezing the base of his shaft to prevent himself from following the two of you over the edge. The second Seonghwa steps away from you, he is taking his place, forcing himself inside of you before any of the elder’s cum can drip out. 

“Hongjoong,” you gasp, nearly falling forward from the force of his thrusts. Seonghwa maneuvers himself so that he can support you, holding you in his arms as Hongjoong pounds into you with bruising force. 

“Gonna fill you just like Hwa did,” he growls. “Make you mine. Ours. You’re ours.” 

“Can’t… can’t…” Words escape you, your mind going blank. 

“Yes, you can,” Seonghwa says, stroking your hair. “You can take it. You can come for us one more time.”

His voice is comforting, but you also hear the command in his tone. You choke out a sob, nodding weakly as Hongjoong guides your hips back against him again and again. You can feel another orgasm coming on already, the coil tightening in your stomach. Seonghwa continues to murmur words of praise, stopping only to pepper kisses along your heated skin. 

The coil snaps and you cry out as you come undone, Hongjoong’s cock still buried deep inside of you. His hips stutter and he curses, his warm release mixing with Seonghwa’s. He slowly pulls out and you can feel as some of their cum trickle down your thighs. You collapse against Seonghwa completely, no longer able to stand on your own two legs. 

You feel light-headed and blood pounds in your ears, muffling the cheers you assume are coming from the crowd. You’re too far gone to be embarrassed, and a lazy smile tugs at your lips—the three of you surely gave them the show of a lifetime. 

Suddenly, you feel heat lick at your skin, and you snap back into yourself fully, cringing away from it. Your eyes focus, and you see Hongjoong flicking a lighter open and closed, open and closed.  

“There’s our girl,” he remarks. He brings the lighter to your skin again, just close enough for you to feel the heat of it without it burning you. “I think we were a bit rough with you, precious. You were totally out of it, shivering and everything.” 

Seonghwa is behind you again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You press further against him, squirming as the heat tickles your skin. 

“Back with us?” Seonghwa asks.

You nod. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” 

“Okay. Hongjoong—enough.” 

Hongjoong stops immediately, flipping the lighter closed with a tsk. “Fine. It’s gonna get hotter in a minute anyway.”

Now that you’re focused, you finally hear the shouting and crashing coming from below. The very people who were just watching you on stage are now rioting, destroying the warehouse and everything in it. The cameras, the bar, all of your hard work—now there is just destruction, everywhere you look. 

You shoot up, hurriedly dressing yourself so that you are no longer the only one naked as panic begins to take hold. “What’s going on? Seonghwa, Hongjoong, we need to—”

You waver on your feet, nearly tripping. Luckily, Seonghwa catches you. “Calm down, it’s okay,” he says, hushing you. “This is all part of the plan.”

Hongjoong gestures to the crowd, pointing out some things you missed. “See how some of them are drenching the place with gasoline? We’re gonna light it up.” 

Maybe you’re still delirious from your multiple orgasms, but you are having trouble understanding what the two of them mean. “Why? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“This was all a distraction,” Seonghwa explains. “The club, the livestream, us putting on a show. We did it so that all eyes would be on us, and all the badges would be wasting their resources trying to find our location.” 

You nod slowly as the pieces begin to come together. “So, while I was setting all of this up…”

“We were out there. Planting bombs at some of the biggest tech headquarters in the city.” Hongjoong smiles, spreading his arms wide. “Our coup de grâce, just like we’ve been saying.” 

Despite all of your suspicions, this is something you never would have been able to guess. Before you can even begin to truly comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done, sirens pierce the air. Everyone screams and begins to run out of the warehouse. Seonghwa grabs your hand, and nods to Hongjoong. “Now!” 

Hongjoong throws his lighter to the ground below and flames erupt instantly, devouring everything in sight. Luckily, most of the crowd has already escaped, and you feel confident no one should get caught in the aftermath. Still, it’s pandemonium, and smoke fills your lungs as Seonghwa pulls you closer, shielding you with his body as he hurries toward the nearest exit. 

Hongjoong follows after you, but lags behind as he keeps looking over his shoulder at the fire with a sadistic grin on his face. “That’s how we do it,” he yells, voice barely audible over the blaze.

“Get yourself together,” Seonghwa barks. “We need to get out of here before the cops realize what’s going on and find us.” 

Suddenly, Hongjoong trips, his foot catching on some loose debris. Seonghwa reacts instantly, yanking him back to his feet and throwing an arm around his waist. The three of you continue onward as the heat of the fire licks at your back. You crash through one of the exit doors, and stumble away into the night, disappearing into the sea of masked faces. 

All across the nation, devices light up with the same headline: “City in Chaos as Blazing Inferno Distracts from Large-Scale Bombing of Tech Giants.”

“Nation-wide manhunt underway. Suspects Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa believed to be connected to an underground criminal group called The Black Pirates…” 

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie @nebulousbrainsoup @ad0rechuu @sanniesbunnie @seonghwaddict @fruitcakebin @kickti @abby-grace @fireseo @yunhofingers @ohflorah @oiminho @baekbao @byuntrash101 @hyukssunflower @thatnerdytomboy @straykidsholicleigh

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 2

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af

NOTESજ⁀➴ hi everyone! here's the next chapter of TOTGA ❀ to stay updated with new chapter releases, you can follow the tag #tiiraameesuTOTGA, or leave a comment below to be added to the tagline♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

wcજ⁀➴ 7.8k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The practice room was a blur of noise—normally something you’d lose yourself in, but today, it felt distant. The hum of the synthesizer, the steady beat of Choso’s drums, the rhythmic pluck of Nanami’s bass—they all blended together into background noise. You weren’t really hearing any of it.

Your fingers dragged across the strings, the notes flat and hollow as you strummed through the song again. The chords meant nothing, and you didn’t even know why you were still holding the guitar.

Iori’s voice cut through the music, soft and steady, but it barely registered. Naoya, hunched over his equipment to your left, twisted knobs and layered beats into the track with quick, precise movements. The flashing lights of his console pulsed, but the sound was just another thing happening in a vacuum—detached and distant.

Your thoughts drifted, tangled in the events of last night.

Gojo, his laughter echoing above the party’s music. Gojo, dancing with Mina like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gojo, pulling her close, his hands on her waist.

And then the kiss.

The memory hit you like a crashing cymbal. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was passionate, intentional—the kind you’d only ever dreamed of sharing with him. It was the kind that told you exactly where you stood: on the outside, looking in.

Your fingers faltered on the strings, and the wrong chord echoed sharply, cutting through the music like a wrong note on a piano.

Iori stopped singing, turning to you immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

You flinched, realizing everyone was now looking at you. “Yeah, sorry. Just slipped up,” you said quickly, trying to adjust your grip on the guitar.

Iori frowned, her dark eyes soft with concern. She set her microphone down, resting her hand on her hip. “You’ve been off all morning,” she said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight.

Iori didn’t press further, though the look she gave you said she knew there was more. She straightened, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Alright, everyone, let’s take five before we start the next round,” she said, her voice light but firm enough to get the others moving.

The band began to disperse, Choso heading to grab water, Yu fiddling with his synth settings, and Naoya muttering something under his breath as he checked his laptop. Nanami leaned his bass against the wall and quietly stepped outside, likely for some air.

You made a beeline for the couch, slumping against it with a sigh. The soft cushions were a brief reprieve from the weight sitting heavy on your chest. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, only to be greeted by a flood of notifications.

Gojo.

You hadn’t replied to his last five attempts to contact you, each message growing more puzzled, more curious. The first few had been typical Gojo banter. Then the messages started asking if you were okay. By the fifth, there was a shift—an underlying concern.

"Is everything okay?"

You could practically hear his voice in your head. His obliviousness, the way he never thought twice about things that might actually matter to someone else. Part of you wanted to throw your phone across the room just to stop seeing his name pop up again. But you didn’t. Instead, you sent a simple reply back, not giving him anything he could really latch onto.

"Busy with band practice. Catch you later."

It was the perfect excuse. You were always "busy." With the band. With your gig. It was enough to get him off your back, for now.

You threw your phone down on the couch, face down, determined not to let Gojo’s messages ruin this moment. As much as everything about him felt like an ache you couldn’t ignore, you wouldn’t let it distract you.

Time seemed to fly during the short break, but soon Iori’s voice cut through the silence as she clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get back to it. From the top, everyone!”

You lifted your guitar, the weight familiar in your hands. You should’ve been able to just lose yourself in the music, but today wasn’t one of those days.

The first few bars went smoothly, and for a moment, you thought you were breaking through the fog. But then the chorus hit, and everything fell apart. Your fingers faltered, the sound wrong, the chords foreign. The song didn’t flow, like trying to speak a language you once knew but had forgotten.

The music grew hollow, pulling your mind back to Gojo—his carefree laugh, that damn kiss. You thought of the way Mina had melted into his arms, the kiss that had felt so natural. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but it did. Each thought dug deeper.

The worst part? You couldn’t even make yourself hate him for it.

Your fingers froze on the strings. Another missed note.

“Stop.”

Naoya’s voice sliced through the tension in the room, louder than the failed chord ringing in the air. “What the hell was that?”

You looked up, startled by the sudden harshness in his tone. Naoya’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowed, his lips curling in a scowl. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist, a feeling of unease creeping up your spine.

“What do you mean?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. It was obvious you hadn’t been playing your best, but the sting of his words made you defensive.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snapped, stepping closer, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “You’re distracted, and it’s fucking up the whole song. This isn’t the time to be spacing out. We have a gig coming up, remember? This is supposed to be our shot.”

You could feel your chest tightening, the weight of his criticism hanging in the air. You didn’t want to feel this way—not with Naoya. He was always blunt, but something about the bite in his words felt like a punch to the gut.

“Give it a rest, Naoya,” Iori’s voice cut in, her tone quieter but still firm. “We all know she’s having a rough time today. Lay off.”

But Naoya wasn’t having it. He shot her a quick glance, then turned back to you, his expression hardening. “She’s having a rough time?” he repeated, his voice rising. “We all have rough times, but we still show up and do our part. This is important, and you—” He pointed at you, his finger trembling with frustration. “—are holding us back.”

Your fingers tightened around the neck of your guitar, a dull thrum of anger mixing with the frustration already brewing inside you. How could he possibly understand?

Naoya’s words hit you harder than they should have, stinging deep into a part of you that you couldn’t ignore. Your grip on the guitar tightened as if it could somehow steady the storm brewing inside you.

“You’re holding us back,” Naoya repeated, his voice sharp like a knife. “We can’t afford to have you slacking off, not now.”

Yu, who had been mostly silent up until that point, shifted uncomfortably. He adjusted the dial on his synth, casting a glance at the rest of the band before speaking up. “Naoya, maybe dial it back a bit, yeah? We all know she’s not in the best headspace, but yelling isn’t gonna help anyone.” His words weren’t defensive of you, but they weren’t exactly in Naoya’s corner either.

Choso, seated behind his drums, tapped one of the cymbals lightly with his stick before speaking in his usual low, rumbling voice. “We all have our days, man. Doesn’t help to turn this into a fight. Just play the damn song.”

But Naoya wasn’t ready to back down. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening in frustration. “You two are just gonna let this slide? We’re on the edge of something big, and she’s acting like she doesn’t care. She’s messing up, and it’s dragging us all down.”

You could feel the heat of his words burning through you. The anger swelled in your chest, mixing with the ache in your heart that you’d been trying to ignore. What right did he have to criticize you when he didn’t know what was really going on?

“Maybe if you didn’t make everything sound like the end of the world, I’d be able to focus,” you snapped, voice cold and sharp, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Naoya’s eyes flashed with irritation, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other. His lips curled into a sneer. “Yeah? Well, maybe if you actually gave a damn about this band, you’d stop fucking around. You think your problems are more important than the rest of us?” His words were venomous, laced with anger and something deeper—something raw.

But before either of you could escalate it any further, a voice rang out, clear and authoritative.

“Enough.”

The sharpness of Nanami’s tone cut through the tension in the room, freezing everyone in place. All eyes turned to him as he stepped forward, his expression unamused but not angry—more like someone who was simply done with the drama.

“Naoya, you’ve said your piece,” Nanami continued, his voice calm but heavy with authority. “Now shut it. This isn’t helping anyone. And you,” he continued, not softening his voice, but not harsh either, “stop letting whatever’s going on in your head mess with this. We’re all here for the same thing. If you’re going to be here, then be here. Focus.”

The weight of his words settled on you. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t trying to drag either of you further into this mess. He just spoke like it was a simple matter of fact.

“This isn’t the time for personal drama,” Nanami added, his tone still clear but without a trace of malice. "We’ve got a gig to prepare for. Get it together."

The room fell silent. Naoya, though still visibly irritated, seemed to recognize the finality in Nanami’s words and stopped pushing. You took a breath, your chest feeling a little lighter. Nanami wasn’t sugarcoating anything, but he wasn’t piling on either. He was just being direct, reminding you all of why you were here in the first place.

Yu and Choso exchanged glances, both of them letting out quiet sighs of relief. The tension was still there, but it was more manageable now.

The silence hung in the room for a moment longer before Nanami broke it with a more relaxed, but still authoritative tone. "Alright, take a 15-minute break," he said, his eyes scanning the band. "Everyone take a step back, get your nerves settled. We’ll come back to this in a bit, but it’s clear we need to cool off before we get back into it."

There was a collective sigh of relief. Yu and Choso both took a step back, leaning against the wall and quietly talking amongst themselves. Iori fiddled with her mic stand, clearly giving the rest of you space, while Naoya just stood there, his posture stiff, but he didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t wait for the others to move. With your nerves still frazzled, you found the couch and collapsed onto it, running a hand over your face. You hadn’t even realized how tight your jaw had been until you released the tension with a soft exhale. Your mind was racing with everything that had been said, and despite the anger you felt bubbling beneath the surface, it was all a bit much.

Instinctively, your hand reached for your phone. You unlocked it without really thinking, the screen lighting up in the dim room. There was a missed call from Gojo. You cursed softly under your breath. The last thing you wanted was to talk to him right now—not with everything that had been going on. But you couldn’t deny the pull to hear his voice, even if the sting of seeing him kiss Mina still burned in the back of your mind.

Without thinking much further, you pressed “Call.”

The moment his voice came through the speaker, a part of you immediately softened. “Hey, hey! Finally pickin’ up, huh?” Gojo’s voice was a little more hyper than you’d expected, as if he was bouncing off the walls, and for a second, it caught you off guard.

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten about me or something!” he continued with a playful pout. “You left the party early last night, no goodbye, no nothing. What’s up with that? Did you not like my dancing or was the music not up to your standards?” He chuckled, as if teasing you, completely unaware of the unease swirling inside you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a light, breezy laugh. It’s fine, you told yourself, trying to shake off the knot in your stomach. It doesn’t matter. Just act normal.

“Ah, you know how it is,” you said, your voice coming out a little too bright, a little too cheery. You could practically hear the smile you were trying to fake. “I wasn’t feeling the best, you know how I can be with loud crowds.” You even threw in a little chuckle for good measure, hoping it’d cover up the sting that still lingered in your chest.

But Gojo didn’t pick up on the forced tone, of course. He never did.

“Aww, that’s a shame,” he said, his voice playful. “I thought you were having a good time! You should’ve told me, I would’ve saved you a dance. You know, I’m the best dancer at those things. You really missed out.” There was a cocky grin in his voice, and it made you want to roll your eyes even though you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

You sat back on the couch, trying to focus on Gojo's teasing, but your mind kept drifting back to the images of him with Mina. The playful tone of his voice almost seemed to mock the knot in your stomach, and no matter how hard you tried to push it down, you couldn't shake the way your chest tightened at the thought of them together.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned forward, your phone still pressed to your ear.

"Well, I didn't plan on staying all night, anyways," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "You know me—crowds and I don't always get along."

Gojo’s laughter rang through the phone, a little louder than before. "Next time, I’ll save you a dance," he teased. "You missed out, for real."

You chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, next time,” you repeated, trying to keep the lightness in your tone, even though your mind immediately flashed back to the sight of Gojo dancing so close to Mina. The way he moved with her, effortlessly, the chemistry between them so obvious—it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t ignore.

Stop it, you thought to yourself. It’s none of your business. You’re just being dramatic.

But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, the image lingered. You couldn’t help but picture him spinning Mina around, laughing, his hand low on her back, pulling her in close. There was something so… easy about the way they were together. So natural.

Gojo, however, didn’t seem to notice the shift in your mood. He was too busy playing the charming fool, oblivious as always.

You stood up slowly, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts, and made your way to the door.

As you walked toward the door, the sounds of the studio felt distant, like you were drifting away from them, seeking the brief peace of the hallway.

But then, just before you stepped out completely, you heard Naoya's voice from inside the studio. It was low, almost under his breath, but sharp enough to catch your attention.

"Yeah, maybe if you spent as much time on your notes as you do chatting on the phone, we wouldn’t be here all day," he muttered, the words barely loud enough for you to ignore, but sharp enough to get under your skin.

You froze, your hand on the door handle.

A surge of irritation bubbled up inside you, but you forced it down, knowing it wasn’t worth responding. You didn’t have time to get caught up in one of his petty comments, especially not now.

With a quick glance back at the studio, you let out a quiet breath and stepped outside, closing the door gently behind you. You leaned against the wall, just for a moment of peace—just enough to breathe. Gojo’s voice was a stark contrast to the tense silence of the studio, his words carefree and oblivious to everything that had been bubbling under the surface.

“So, are we still on for later?” he asked, completely unaware of the knot still sitting in your chest. “You know, after practice like usual? I thought we could grab dinner or something—at the convenience store. You in?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The last thing you wanted to do right now was spend time with Gojo, especially after everything that happened last night. But despite the hesitation, the thought of seeing his face, the way his smile always managed to make everything feel lighter, pulled at you.

You could already imagine his playful grin, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, and the stupid, unexplainable flutter in your stomach every time he spoke to you.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice sounding a little too quiet, a little too unsure. But you pushed it down. “I’m in. I’ll see you after practice, okay?”

“Great!” Gojo’s cheer was immediate and overly enthusiastic, like you’d just agreed to go on an all-expenses-paid vacation with him. “I’ll be there in thirty. That should line up with when you’re done, right? I know your schedule better than you do.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping across your lips. “Stalker much, Satoru?”

“Am not! M’just a great best friend.” He replied and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. “Anyways, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be ready to bask in my greatness.”

“Sure, can’t wait,” you said dryly, though his excitement chipped away some of the tension still lingering in your chest.

The call ended with a playful beep, leaving you alone with the soft hum of the hallway. You tucked your phone into your pocket, inhaling deeply before making your way back to the practice room.

You took one last deep breath, steadying yourself as you pushed open the door to the practice room. The chatter and clatter of everyone getting ready for another round immediately filled your ears, the energy in the room buzzing as usual.

Naoya caught sight of you as you stepped in. His eyes narrowed briefly, the usual smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, look who finally decided to rejoin us,” he said with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “I figured you’d still be out there, busy on your phone with your friend, instead of keeping up with your notes like you should.”

You clenched your jaw, the irritation from earlier creeping back. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Iori, who had been nearby, shot a sharp jab to Naoya's side, sending him stumbling a little.

“Knock it off, Naoya,” Iori muttered, her voice low but firm. “Not everyone spends their whole life under a microscope like you.”

Naoya shot her an irritated look, but Iori’s usual no-nonsense attitude had managed to shut him up for the moment.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. As much as you hated to admit it, you appreciated Iori’s timing.

Just then, Nanami glanced up from where he’d been tuning his guitar, his gaze turning toward you with that calm, almost calculating look he always had. “Ready for another round?” he asked, his voice steady and even. His presence had a way of grounding you, always somehow making things feel just a bit more manageable.

You nodded quickly, your breath steadying as you mentally prepared for another round of practice. "Yeah," you said, your voice coming out a bit breathy but confident. You grabbed your guitar, adjusting the strap over your shoulder. The familiar weight of it brought you back to your element, where everything else faded into the background.

Nanami, bass in hand, gave you a small, reassuring nod as his fingers started to slide over the strings. The deep, rich tones of the bass filled the room, grounding everything, and Iori, standing front and center with her mic, was already singing a few warm-up notes under her breath.

Choso, behind the drums, cracked his knuckles before taking his seat. He glanced your way, offering a brief smile before letting the sticks rest lightly in his hands, ready to hit the snare. Yu, standing by his synthesizer, was already tapping at the keys, humming along quietly to himself as he adjusted the sound levels. Naoya, being Naoya, was fiddling with his DJ equipment, testing out the next track or whatever his role was this time.

As always, you were the one to bring the electric spark to the group. You adjusted your fingers over the strings of your guitar, a sense of focus washing over you as the rest of the band began to sync. Maybe it was hearing his voice just now, or maybe just the familiarity of the music, but it felt a bit easier to let go now. The chaos of the day and the undercurrent of frustration faded as your hands moved over the fretboard.

Iori caught your eye for a brief second and, with her usual fiery energy, nodded toward you. She shot a quick wink as she raised her mic. "You ready, guitar hero?" she teased, her voice still smooth as silk, but with that playful edge you were all too familiar with.

You gave her a small grin and strummed a chord. "Yeah, let's do this."

Nanami's bass throbbed, the beat of Choso's drums kicked in, and Yu’s synth melodies began to echo through the room. Naoya hit the button on his DJ equipment, the crisp sound of beats layering over the instruments as the song began to take shape.

With a few final adjustments, you let your fingers fly across the fretboard, the strings vibrating with each strum. Music filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything outside of the band—the tension, the distractions, the stress—vanished. The only thing that mattered now was the sound.

The music built steadily, each layer blending effortlessly with the next. Nanami’s bass pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and sure, while Choso’s drumming added sharp, driving energy. Yu’s synths shimmered in, wrapping around the melody, and Naoya’s samples wove through it all, giving the track its signature edge. Iori’s voice soared above the instrumental, smooth and steady, like it had always been meant to blend with the rest. You leaned into the groove, the guitar feeling like an extension of yourself, as if the music was pulling you forward with every note.

When the last notes faded, silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft hum of the equipment. The band had done well today. And for the first time, the guitar had felt right, the strings humming under your fingertips, as if they were just a little more in tune with you than they had been before.

You didn’t think you’d played it perfectly—there were still moments where you stumbled, where your fingers missed a beat, or the rhythm wasn’t quite right—but it felt like you were getting closer. Maybe it was the focus you had finally found, or maybe it was the call with Gojo that had calmed your nerves, but your playing had finally come with a little more ease. For once, you felt like you could actually breathe while playing, instead of getting caught up in the pressure and self-doubt.

“Well done, everyone,” Iori said, her voice bright as always. She flashed a grin your way, nodding with approval. “That sounded killer.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Yu added, his voice soft but content. He adjusted his headphones, his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the synth keys, a gesture of satisfaction. “We’re getting there.”

Choso, pulling himself out of his seat, stretched his arms above his head before chiming in. “I think this is it. We just need a bit more polish,” he said, his tone casual but upbeat. “Great work today, though.”

Nanami gave you a brief, silent nod as he packed away his bass, his expression calm but pleased. It was rare for him to show much outward emotion, but you could tell he was satisfied.

Iori grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, looking toward the door. “Well, I’m off. Got plans with the crew later,” she said, giving you a wink before heading toward the hall. Yu followed shortly after, adjusting his jacket with a content sigh. “Same here. See you at the next rehearsal,” he said with a smile, his voice still carrying that laid-back ease. Choso stood, picking up his drumsticks and slinging his bag across his shoulder. “Bye,” he said simply, before heading out the door.

Nanami was the last to leave, offering you another silent nod before grabbing his own things and following the others down the hall.

The usual warmth of the band lingered in the room, but the energy shifted the moment they were gone. The chatter of their plans faded as the door clicked shut behind them, and the room felt quieter, more still.

As you reached for your bag, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. You turned, expecting to see Naoya packing up, but instead, he was still standing near his DJ setup, his eyes locked on the equipment in front of him, his posture tense.

Naoya’s posture was rigid as he leaned against the DJ equipment, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usual smug expression had been replaced with something sharper, his eyes narrowed as he took you in. His voice cut through the silence, harder than you expected.

“Honestly, it’s hard to take you seriously when you can’t even pull it together for a gig that actually matters. Are you even all in on this band, or is this just some hobby for you?” Each word came out tight, like it was a challenge you weren’t quite ready for.

Your chest tightened. His words stung more than you'd like to admit, especially after everything. You stood there, waiting for him to keep going, unsure if the barb was meant to break through your tough exterior or if it was just his frustration spilling out.

But then, something in his posture shifted. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh. The harshness melted away as he spoke again, softer this time, his eyes losing that sharpness. "Look... I just wanted this gig to be our big break," he said, his voice quieter, laced with something you hadn't expected: real frustration, but also a hint of desperation. "We’ve been grinding for months to get noticed, trying to make something out of this. You know how important this is to the band, and to me." His gaze softened just a bit, like he was trying to make you understand without saying too much.

He paused, running a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against his forehead in an almost tired gesture. "I just… don’t want to mess this up. Not now. We can’t afford to fall short, especially now that we’ve got a real shot at making it big."

His eyes flickered briefly, and for a second, you saw that familiar wall of stubbornness break down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the person behind it—the one who was just as worried about everything falling apart as you were. He exhaled deeply, then added, quieter than before, "I just want this to work. I want the band to finally get the recognition we deserve. That’s all."

You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, in the slight softness in his gaze—he wasn’t just angry, he was invested. This wasn’t just about you being off tonight. This was about the band, about him putting everything he had into something that had the potential to change everything.

Naoya let the silence settle between you for a moment before he gave a small, almost resigned nod. "Just... don’t make me regret it, alright?" And with that, he turned, not waiting for a response, but his voice had lost its bite. It was still firm, but it carried an unspoken weight—he was hoping you'd understand.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. The sharpness of his earlier jabs still echoed in your chest but hearing the shift in his tone—hearing the real concern beneath his frustration—left you at a loss for words.

You couldn’t deny the pressure. You’d felt it too, the stakes of this gig, how important it was for the band. But his harsh words still stung, especially after everything that had happened. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

After a moment of silence, you let out a slow breath. “I’m not trying to mess this up, Naoya,” you said, your voice steady, though there was a tightness in your chest. "I know how much this means to all of us." You met his gaze, trying to show him you understood, even if you weren’t sure how to fully express it. "I’ll… get it together. You don’t have to worry about that."

You paused, the space between you feeling more fragile now, like the air had thickened with everything unspoken. "I get it, though," you continued, a little softer. "I just... need a minute sometimes." You forced a smile, though it was tight at the edges, trying to lighten the mood a little. "But I’m here. I’m all in, okay?"

Naoya didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell by the slight softening in his eyes that he was hearing you. Maybe he didn’t fully believe it, but the tension had shifted just enough for him to nod, as if satisfied—at least for now.

With a short, almost reluctant glance your way, he walked off, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the silence.

You turned off the lights, the dimming of the room a final sign that practice had officially ended. The buzz of lingering tension in the air still clung to you, but you pushed it down as you headed toward the exit. The familiar echo of your footsteps against the floor was the only sound now, and you let it soothe you, clearing your head as best as you could.

You made your way down the stairs slowly, each step carrying the weight of the conversation you’d just had with Naoya. The band’s words, his frustration, the unspoken understanding—it all swirled in your head, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite sort out. The usual hum of the building felt muted now, the buzzing energy from practice having faded into something heavier, something more uncertain.

As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you spotted him.

Gojo.

He was standing near the door, arms casually crossed, his signature grin stretched wide across his face. The moment his eyes landed on you, the grin only grew brighter, as if your arrival had somehow sparked his whole mood.

"Took you long enough," Gojo called out, his voice teasing but warm. His eyes twinkled with that usual spark of mischief, but there was something else in his gaze, something softer, like he was actually waiting for you—like he’d been expecting this moment.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips despite the weight of everything that had just happened. There was something undeniably comforting about Gojo’s presence, like he was a small oasis of calm in the middle of all the chaos. His grin, that ever-present playfulness, had a way of easing the tightness in your chest, even if just for a moment.

You offered a tired smile, feeling a small amount of the tension lift at the sound of his voice. “Had a lot to wrap up.”

Gojo pushed off the wall and stretched casually as he started to walk off. “Well, now that the hard part’s over, you’re free to hang out with me. Sound good?”

You shrugged, a teasing smile curling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on you. “I guess.”

Gojo stopped in his tracks, feigning offense, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. “I guess?” he repeated, his tone incredulous, “Is that really all I get after I graciously offer to spend my valuable time with you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated pout that tugged at his lips, his usual playful confidence now tinged with mock hurt. His act was so over-the-top that it almost felt like a personal insult—except it was hilarious.

“C’mon, you’re lucky I’m even agreeing to hang out with you,” you shot back with a smirk, trying to match his theatrics as you turned to walk beside him.

Gojo’s pout deepened for a moment, but then his grin returned, wide and knowing, like he had won some small, unspoken victory. He waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine, I guess I’ll take what I can get. But next time, at least give me a ‘thank you’ or something,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you chuckled. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin, stepping up beside you, his playful demeanor as natural as breathing. “But you still love me.”

The words hit you like a sudden wave, and for a moment, everything else around you seemed to fade into the background. You froze, caught off guard. But you still love me. It felt like your heart had skipped a beat, the words coming from him so casual, so light. But in that moment, they resonated deeper than you expected. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing it was just him teasing—but the reality was, it wasn’t entirely untrue. You did love him.

But you couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when he was being his usual playful self. You let out a soft exhale, the moment passing as quickly as it had arrived.

“Love you?” You shot him a look, the teasing smirk back on your face. “Not sure about that. But I guess I’ll let you stick around a little longer.”

Gojo laughed, clearly not picking up on the slight shift in your tone, and nudged your shoulder. “A little longer? I’m wounded,” he said with exaggerated drama. “But I’ll take it. I guess that’s as close to love as I’ll get from you, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, the tightness in your chest still lingering, but you'd buried it under the sarcasm. “That’s about the best you’re going to get.”

You both walked to the convenience store, your footsteps in sync, though your mind felt a little distant. Gojo's usual teasing banter floated around you, but you couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot in your stomach. It wasn’t the first time you’d hung out with him like this, but tonight, everything felt… heavier. You pushed the thought aside.

Inside the store, the familiar warmth and low hum of the lights made you feel grounded. You grabbed a cup of instant noodles and a couple of snacks, trying to focus on something as simple as preparing food. The act of cooking your noodles in the microwave seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

Gojo, naturally, was in a good mood as he picked out a drink and snacks, then casually plopped down next to you. As you set your bowl of noodles in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulder brushed against yours as he sat—just a little too close for comfort, but you didn’t pull away.

Gojo took a sip of his drink, leaning back casually against his seat, his usual carefree demeanor in full force. The silence between you two was comfortable, yet your mind was all over the place. You were trying to keep your thoughts in check when, out of nowhere, Gojo dropped his usual carefree remark.

“By the way,” he began, his voice casual, almost as if he was talking about the weather, “I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

And for a split second, the world seemed to freeze.

Everything—the soft hum of the convenience store, the clink of distant cans, the faint rustle of plastic bags—vanished into the background. Your breath hitched in your chest, and the next few seconds dragged by like slow-motion, the words echoing in your mind.

Girlfriend?

Your fingers gripped your bowl of noodles so tightly that it almost slipped from your hands. Your vision blurred slightly, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t remember how to breathe. A heavy weight settled in your chest, like you were sinking into an endless pit.

The memories of last night—the soft hum of the afterparty, the way he’d danced with Mina, their kiss, the way she smiled up at him—came crashing down all at once. It was like someone had grabbed your ribcage and squeezed. You blinked, feeling a tightness in your throat, a flood of heat behind your eyes.

How did things advance so quickly in the span of a night?

You’d seen them together, you knew it was coming, and yet—this? Why Mina?

Why her?

Out of all the people, why had it been her? You’d watched the way he looked at her, the laughter that came so naturally as they danced, the way she’d fit so effortlessly into his orbit. The kiss had been a final confirmation, one you had tried to pretend wasn’t real, but now, hearing the word "girlfriend" spill from his lips—it felt like a punch to the gut.

You thought you understood him, at least enough to know that he wasn’t one for commitment. He’d told you that himself. You’d heard it countless times: "I don’t do relationships. Too much hassle, too much commitment."

But here he was, talking about Mina like it was nothing. Like the man who had sworn off ties, who had never seemed interested in anything beyond his casual flings, had suddenly—and without warning—shifted completely.

It didn’t make sense. You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting behind your eyes. How did this happen? How had his stance on relationships changed so fast, so suddenly, without any hint of it? And why now? Why Mina, of all people?

You felt your grip on the bowl tighten, your knuckles turning white. The ache in your chest wasn’t just about him moving on—it was about the sudden shift, the betrayal of all those times you’d tried to convince yourself he’d eventually come around, that maybe he’d see you as more than just the friend who always tagged along.

And now this. Her. A girl who seemed to get him, who was everything you weren’t: confident, carefree, like she belonged beside him.

For a fleeting moment, you felt that familiar, hollow pang again. What did she have that you didn’t?

The thought lingered, gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to indulge in that kind of self-pity—not right now. Not in front of him.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. Don’t let him see it. Don’t let him see how badly this hurts.

You swallowed, forcing your chopsticks to meet your noodles again, but it felt like your throat had gone dry. "Mina, right?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you instantly regretted it. Your voice was too quiet, too unsure, but you couldn’t take it back.

Gojo didn’t seem to notice the change in your demeanor. He flashed you that usual grin, the one that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. "Yeah, that’s her," he said, a little more animated now, clearly pleased with himself. "She’s awesome. Thought you’d like her."

You didn’t expect the surge of pain that hit you at his words, but it was sharp and unmistakable. You kept your eyes trained on the noodles in your bowl, afraid they’d betray you if you looked up.

Gojo continued, clearly not picking up on the shift in your mood. “Honestly, she’s just... everything I never knew I needed. She’s got this energy, you know? It’s like—everything about her just makes sense. The way she talks, the way she laughs, the way she looks at me, it’s like she sees me—really sees me, you know?”

You could feel your heart tighten at his words, the little cracks in your chest deepening with every praise. His voice was full of that certain warmth, the one that made everything he said feel like it was wrapped in a soft, golden light. It was a tone you had never heard directed at you.

You swallowed thickly, your stomach twisting with each word that slipped past Gojo’s lips. He didn’t notice, of course—he was too wrapped up in whatever glow Mina had cast over him.

"It’s like she really gets me, y'know?" Gojo continued, the edge of his smile softening into something more thoughtful. "Like, every little thing I do, she just understands and… and we’re on the same wavelength. No effort. No trying. It’s just… natural."

You blinked, and for a moment, everything went blurry. Your hands tightened around your chopsticks, but you barely noticed.

I get you too, the thought screamed in your head, but you swallowed your voice down your throat, forcing out a smile instead. Why doesn’t that matter?

The words you didn’t say swirled around you, a dull ache in your chest that refused to quiet down. You’d spent years trying to understand him, trying to be the person who got him—the way he looked at the world, the jokes he made, the way his mind worked at a million miles a minute. You’d always been there, hadn’t you?

And yet here he was, saying Mina was the one who got him.

In that split second, the words stung with a cold finality. It wasn’t about the girl. It wasn’t about Mina. It was about how effortlessly Gojo had found someone else to fill that space in his heart that, for so long, you thought maybe—just maybe—was reserved for you.

He continued, unaware of the quiet storm in your mind. "She just gets me, and I don’t have to explain anything. It's so easy with her. I can't even remember the last time something felt so right, you know?"

Your mind went blank for a moment, and you couldn’t stop the thought that broke through: But I get you. I’ve always gotten you.

You blinked and cleared your throat. The sting was still there, but you couldn’t show it. You forced a smile, even though it felt like your lips were glued together. "I’m glad she makes you happy," you said, the words coming out smoother than you felt. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more.

Gojo’s grin widened. "Yeah, she’s great," he said, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the quiet battle going on inside you. “I’m really lucky.”

As he went on, your thoughts circled back to that question—Why her? Why had he found someone who fit so effortlessly into the life you’d imagined you two would share? And why wasn’t it you who had earned the privilege of being the one to "get him"?

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the two of you faded into the background. The convenience store, the noise, the bustling sounds—everything felt far away.

It was just you, Gojo, and the words he couldn’t take back.

You continued to stare at him, your gaze flickering over every little thing—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, the almost reverent tone in his voice, the soft, almost dreamy expression that crept onto his face. He wasn’t just saying it; he was feeling it, every word a reflection of something deep inside him, something he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

His smile, usually so playful and confident, was softer now. His eyes were full of that familiar warmth, but there was something new—something brighter. It was a look you had never seen before.

Your breath hitched again, and for a brief moment, it felt like your chest was tightening around you, the world shrinking as his words continued to wash over you, louder and louder.

He was in love.

The thought hit you with a quiet finality, and you swallowed hard, feeling something inside you crack just a little more. You couldn’t look away, even though you wanted to. Even though everything inside you was screaming to pull back, to stop pretending, to let it all show.

But you couldn’t.

Not now.

You could feel the ache swelling in your chest again, but this time, you forced yourself to hold it down, to swallow it back where it belonged. You have to be happy for him. He deserves this. The words rang in your mind, a mantra you tried to hold on to. You had never been selfish with him, not once. And no matter how badly it hurt, no matter how much you wished it was you sitting there beside him, you couldn’t let him see it.

You have to support him.

You blinked, trying to clear the sudden haze in your vision, and when you looked at him again, you made sure your smile was there—genuine, warm, and kind, just like always. The lump in your throat made it difficult, but you forced it down.

"She sounds amazing," you said, your voice steady, even though your heart felt like it was breaking with every word. "I’m really happy for you, Satoru."

He didn’t seem to notice the subtle strain in your tone. His eyes brightened further, the love for Mina practically glowing in them. “Yeah, she really is. I really think you two will get along well once you meet. She’s easy to talk to, you’ll see.”

You nodded, forcing a bit more enthusiasm into your voice. "I’m sure we will."

But as he continued to talk about her, the way his voice softened with affection every time her name left his lips, something inside you cracked again. You tried to push it down. You had to. You had to be supportive, even if it felt like the air was being slowly squeezed out of your lungs.

Because he was happy. That was all that mattered.

And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t be the one to hold him back from that. PART 3

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

#FF0000: rosquez [t]

Valentino had been—thinking. He is having fun, really, this season despite Jorge’s general existence a few meters away. And he likes races in the US, its plastic artificiality, people’s way, way, way too white teeth and loud laughs and exaggerated sports passion. Bringing home a podium is always good.

A little less now, sure, because he knows he can win again. Knows he’s going to, eventually; it isn’t like he can do anything else with Yamaha. But Valentino won’t forget Ducati kicking his legs from under him—wishing that the bike would just fucking work for one weekend over two fucking years.

So, he’s happy. Enjoying himself, even if the club is gritty and cheap and stuffed, sweat sticking to his throat and dripping down his back to his underwear, his beer lukewarm.

Until he catches Marc weaving through the crowd, that is.

Getting up is a split-second decision. One moment, Valentino is sitting with his mechanics, ignoring them shouting over the music. The next, he’s prowling, drink abandoned, his crew calling after him.

He ends up catching Marc close to the bar. Grabs him by the wrist. Marc’s skin is fever hot, and he sways in place when he swings around to look at him.

“Honda is being stingy with you. This place is shit,” Valentino says, flashing a smirk.

Marc—honest to God—cackles, and the pulsing lights wash over his face, over the ugly openness of his honking laugh. Like this, Valentino can see him, really see him. The fritz of champagne and beer sizzles in his stomach, heavy out of nowhere.

Marc had been with a girl, is the thing. Maybe more than one. It’s there, on his bottom lip, on his chin—smeared lipstick. Red and very bright. Bit waxy.

Cheap, probably.

“No, no, it is fine,” Marc leans in to shout into his ear. “We’re barhopping!”

He says it in English, clumsy, his accent rolling each r hard, cutting sharp on the ing. It’s, frankly, ridiculous.

And his breath is hot, damp. Reeks with alcohol where it brushes against his cheek. Marc is swinging with the beat of whatever shitty synth pop they’re playing, so Valentino needs to steady him, a hand on the small of his back, fingers hooked on his belt loops. He feels mean, though—suddenly. Not a pleasant sensation.

His smile turns harsh. It’s like holding a knife between his teeth.

“Are you even old enough to drink here?”

Valentino wants Marc wrong-footed, wants to prod at him until he winces or—well. But Marc only shakes his head, beaming, crucially still covered in lipstick. There’s some on his collar too. And another drippy, blurred mark on his throat.

“Nope! But Honda, ah—” He makes an exaggerated gesture for passing money around, almost trips over himself.

Marc ends up knocking into Valentino, all wild-eyed, sloppy with drink. Their chests are brushing. Valentino—it hasn’t moved an inch, that prickly, unkind feeling, thorns going down his throat when he swallows.

This close, he can smell Marc—sweat, champagne, something sticky and too sweet and overly feminine. It’s cloying. Nauseating along the stench of way too many people packed together, writhing or dancing

It grates on Valentino’s nerves for the first time in his life, that there are so many people out on a Sunday night—Monday morning, whatever, it’s even worse if it’s already Monday. He has no idea why.

“Ah, ah, underage drinking, bribery?” Valentino waggles his eyebrows in mock reproach, counting on his fingers. Marc immediately straightens—tries to, at least. Christ, alright. “You’re being bad. Very naughty.”

There’s something about Marc, in his too shiny eyes, in the stubborn way he juts out his jaw. His bottom lip wobbles, though. “It’s my first win.”

“First time going out without your dad too, I guess.”

He mouths along Valentino’s words before they dawn on him. Blinks. Scowls.

Valentino doesn’t give him time to answer. It’s easy now, to try and make him squirm. “Allora, did you sneak out of your hotel room? Told your dad you’d stay with your brother—what’s his name—and play video games?”

Marc ducks his head to the side, lips pressed together. It’s hard to say for sure, but Valentino thinks he’s flustered. Blushing. A nice, girlish pink—a lot more proper than the red on his mouth. Goes along with his tanned skin better.

It needles under Valentino’s skin. Everything does—Marc, and lipstick, and the club, and the girl, maybe girls, and Marc again. He can feel his hands prickling.

“Can’t miss out, hm?” He slides his tongue over his teeth, watches Marc watch him with his usual shamelessness. “When will you get the chance to get sucked off in a dirty restroom again, right? The smell of piss is, ah, an experience.”

Marc warbles in a breath. “It isn’t like that,” he protests weakly.

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It is very much like that—he remembers Donington Park well enough, in 2000, how he’d crawled back to his hotel room at 8 in the morning horribly, horribly smug.

He reaches down between them. Marc jolts, sucks in his stomach on an instinct, his eyes huge, like a baby deer’s. His belt is done all wrong, crooked, too loose, the lip hanging out. The button of his jeans is open. At least, he thinks, less amused than he makes himself look, he remembered to zipper up.

Valentino tsks. “I think it is,” he says, shaking his head, pretending to be oh so disappointed. “You’re being reckless. What will the journalists say when they catch you like this? You don’t want a scandal.”

Marc is frozen in place. Valentino catches his throat bobbing when he plays his button hole, threading his finger into it.

“You’re making fun of me,” he manages to say. It’s a reedy, sullen thing.

He barks out a laugh. “Not too much, you’re still here.”

Maybe it’s the waste of it all getting to him, scratching under his skin. Marc is heavier than him, already more muscular. With the right bra, he might look like he has a nice pair of tits. And there’re his eyes, almost demure, long lashes fanning over his cheeks. And his mouth, too—pretty, insolent. Stained with some random girl’s lipstick.

So Valentino thought about it. Only a bit, in his defense. Hard to not, when you have something so eager one step lower than you on the podium. All that adoration…

The cut of his jaw is too sharp, and his voice too deep, but if you look at him right, or gag him with something, it’s just like fucking a woman in the ass.

Valentino clicks his tongue. Taps low on Marc’s stomach, feeling it jump under his touch. “Am I making too much fun of you?”

He speaks slowly, almost thoughtfully. Whiplash hits Marc like a slap on the face, and he hesitates for a moment, scrambling for words. His gaze keeps sliding down, to where Valentino is touching him. It’s not hard, to figure out what he wants.

“No, it’s—I’m having fun,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.

The words are scorching against the side of Valentino’s face.

“Odd idea of fun.”

Marc laughs again, like Valentino is absolutely hilarious. Or like he’s drunk. Valentino isn’t—drunk, that is—but he isn’t thinking, either.

He licks his thumb, then has do it again—his mouth tastes dry, like something has died inside it. Marc stops laughing. It’s the easiest thing in the world, to brush away the sloppy kiss mark on the hollow of his throat. Straighten his collar. Rub at his chin until it’s clean too.

The lipstick was cheap. It comes off just like that.

“What are you doing?” He asks, breathlessly, in a rattle of Spanish.

Doesn’t move one inch away, of course. Valentino grins.

“You had a little something on your face,” he shrugs, “I’m looking out for you.”

“Thanks,” Marc manages to croak out.

But there’s still—on his mouth proper. He wonders, idly, out of his own body, how easy it would be to wipe that off too. With his tongue, maybe. How easy it would be to go from that to getting his hand inside Marc’s jeans right there.

He doesn’t want to. In this light, now that it isn’t so smudged, Marc could be in makeup. Really. The waxy red glints.

“There.” Marc is trembling in his hold, like a live wire. Valentino trails his finger over his lips, too light. “You don’t want to meet Honda looking like a whore, do you?”

Marc makes a strangled noise—Valentino thinks he does. He can barely hear anything through the pound of blood of in his ears, over the thrumming line of heat between the pad of his thumb and his cock.

“I—”

“You should go. Enjoy your night,” Valentino cuts him off, very magnanimously. “It is your first win, no?”

Marc nods, dazed. Maybe—maybe when he wins again.

[aventurineswife]

Joy on Loop

Synopsis: On a day where the air feels heavier than usual, you find comfort in an upbeat, cheerful tune to lift your spirits. Unexpectedly, you're caught in the moment by someone who sees right through your smile—and decides to stay a little longer, just to listen.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Robin x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Soft Moments, Music As Healing, Found Moments, Slow Burn Hints.

Warnings: Mentions Of Past Trauma, Emotional Repression, Light Angst, Mild Introspection.

Requested by: @suncr0ss

You didn’t hear him come in. Not at first.

You were too caught up in the cheery tempo, fingers drumming on the table, foot bouncing to the beat. “Driftveil City” filled the room like sunlight pouring through windows. Bright, nostalgic, determined.

Aventurine leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a raised brow and a grin that curved sharp like a card’s edge.

“Well, well,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t know you had such... adorable taste in music.”

You jumped. “Aventurine!”

He chuckled, the sound warm but laced with that unmistakable glint of mischief. “You usually listen to orchestral pieces when you're ‘focused’ or some moody synth when you’re brooding. So tell me—” He strolled in, steps too smooth, too theatrical. “—what’s put this spring in your step today?”

You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I dunno. I just wanted to feel good, I guess. This song—makes me feel like I’m winning.”

Aventurine paused at that. The grin faded, just for a moment. “Hmph. Catchy lies. Optimism. Like luck in a melody.” He tapped a finger against his watch, eyes flicking over you, sharp as ever, but something softened behind the usual glitter.

“Keep listening to that one,” he said finally, slipping off his blazer and joining you on the couch. “Might be the only good gamble you make all week.”

You elbowed him playfully, and for once, his laugh sounded... real.

You didn’t expect Robin to return so soon from rehearsal.

You were curled up on a velvet settee near her window, the soft hum of upbeat chiptune playing from your pad. “Driftveil City” danced through the air—chirpy, insistent, golden with rhythm.

Robin stepped inside like a whisper��graceful, radiant, halo tilting ever so slightly. She stopped when she saw you.

For a moment, she just listened.

Then: “That’s quite the charming tune,” she said gently. “Is it a new favorite?”

You glanced up, a little embarrassed. “It’s kind of silly, I guess. I’ve had a hard week, and... I just needed something to make me smile. This song reminds me of simpler times.”

Robin approached, gloved fingers brushing your shoulder with warmth. “There is nothing silly about chasing light,” she murmured. “In fact... I’d like to listen with you. May I?”

You nodded, heart fluttering.

She knelt beside you, closing her eyes as the song played. Her wings fluttered gently, catching the beat in delicate twitches. “You know,” she said softly, “I often forget that joy doesn’t always need to be complex. Sometimes it’s just a tune that makes your soul dance.”

Her hand found yours.

You listened together, not speaking—just letting happiness ripple between you like a shared harmony.

The music was blasting when Sunday walked into the common quarters.

He blinked, taken aback—not by the volume, but by the tone. Bright. Jovial. Alive.

You were swaying slightly to “Driftveil City,” eyes closed, mouthing along to the wordless melody like it was scripture.

Sunday stood quietly, eyes soft, halo pulsing faintly as if it, too, was reacting to the rhythm. He didn't interrupt. Not at first.

When you finally opened your eyes and noticed him, you smiled. “You okay with the noise?”

He gave a faint laugh, more exhale than sound. “It’s... unexpected. But pleasant.” His wings shifted. “It suits you.”

You blinked. “Really?”

He stepped closer, glancing at the player. “This is music meant to lift—like wind under feathers. I can feel the dream in it.” He paused, eyes far away. “A simple dream. To be happy, without reason.”

You reached out, catching his hand. “I was feeling down earlier,” you admitted. “This helps me remember that there’s still joy, even if it’s just... pixelated memories and bouncing basslines.”

Sunday looked at your joined hands, his voice quieter. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Of what?”

“That even fleeting dreams are worth holding onto.”

[brights-place]

Hi!👋Saw your writing and i amidetly fell inlove with it, so i want to ask if i can request Trollex💙 and Synth💜(separated) x female techno troll reader, headcanons about tham both falling inlove with the reader at first sight and thare all lovestuck about tham while the reader has NO IDEA about thare feelings for tham

Take your time on this and have an amazing day/night💜💗🌌

[Trolls] Trollex & Synth x Techno! Reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I felt so old I HAVEN'T GOTTEN A TROLLS REQUEST IN SO LONG OMG OKAY CRACKING MY KNUCKLES LETS GO!

Summary: Trollex💙 and Synth💜(separated) x techno troll reader, headcanons about tham both falling inlove with the reader at first sight and thare all lovestuck about tham while the reader has NO IDEA about thare feelings for tham

Trollex

- Trollex is vibing as usual at a techno concert when he first sees you in the crowd, dancing under the neon lights, completely lost in the music.

- It’s like time slows down for him, the beat fades, the colors blur, and all he sees is you.

- His heart practically glitches in his chest if that’s even possible for a techno troll and he instantly feels this electric jolt of affection he’s never experienced before.

- He’s normally pretty smooth, but around you?? Total malfunction. He’ll start stuttering or tripping over his words when he tries to approach you, covering it up with awkward little dance moves like "haha no I meant to do that!"

-He'll find excuses to casually invite you to events, remix songs inspired by you, or flash a huge slightly nervous grin whenever you’re around. - The funniest part? You have no clue - You just think he’s being friendly and enthusiastic, which honestly makes him even more smitten.

- Behind the scenes, Trollex is totally overthinking "Does she like this beat?? Should I add more bass?? Maybe she likes glowstick colors better! Or should I learn a new dance move??" - Eventually, he starts writing entire tracks about the way you make him feel, but he’s too shy to show them to you yet.

Synth

- You met him at first at an rave he was substituting for Trollex and he noticed you in the crowd grinning as you stood out to him, and He couldn't help but grin as he watched you dance and bop to the beats and flashing lights - Synth first notices you at an underground techno battle, absolutely destroying the dance floor with your moves, and he’s floored.

- He’s a pretty chill guy normally, but around you?? His calm exterior cracks and he turns into a lowkey awkward, smitten mess.

- He tries to play it cool tossing casual “yo”s and “sup”s your way but internally he’s screaming because he thinks you’re the coolest troll he’s ever seen.

- Every time you laugh at one of his jokes even the really bad ones, his neon patterns pulse a little brighter without him realizing.

- Synth starts randomly showing up wherever you are, acting like it’s a coincidence, but it’s totally not. "Oh, you’re here too? Weird. Guess I’ll stick around." he planned it three days ago

- You, meanwhile, are completely oblivious and just think Synth’s super chill and fun to hang out with. - Whenever you compliment him even something small like “cool mix!” he’s done for Has to physically hold himself back from grinning like a dork. - Deep down, he’s working on a secret track too, one that’s full of soft beats and little sonic easter eggs about you but he keeps it hidden like a precious gem.

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader Fluff

Drabble 2

The studio was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the mixing board, scattered monitors, and the soft hum of the computer screen. Outside, Seoul buzzed with its usual rhythm, but in here, time slowed down.

You sat in your usual spot—slightly curled in the corner of the couch, notebook in your lap, headphones resting around your neck. A quiet observer, but fully present.

Across the room, the boys were clustered around the center table. They had just wrapped another long dance practice, their shirts still clinging to their backs, water bottles half-empty. But their eyes—despite the exhaustion—were alive.

This was different. This was important.

“Okay,” Namjoon started, flipping open his notebook with scribbled lines and circled phrases, “we need to talk about the album. The big one. Our first studio album.”

The words hung in the air like a secret about to be told.

Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We’ve been doing bright, fun stuff, but... I think we should show a different side this time.”

“A darker one,” Taehyung chimed in. “Something deeper. Real.”

“Wild,” Jimin added. “Like, emotions you can’t control.”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah… like passion that’s a little dangerous.”

Namjoon looked at you then, eyes curious. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You blinked. You hadn’t expected them to ask.

Your fingers curled slightly around your notebook, but you lifted your head. “...I think that’s powerful,” you said softly. “You’re growing. So your sound and message should too.”

The boys exchanged glances.

“I... I made something,” you added quickly, motioning to your laptop. “Just a sample. I wasn’t sure if it fit, but…”

You hesitated.

Namjoon smiled reassuringly. “We want to hear it.”

You pressed play, unsure.

A deep bass pulsed through the speakers. The beat started slow, building with layers of synths—moody, charged, but not overbearing. Then the drums kicked in—gritty, deliberate, echoing with emotion. It felt like standing at the edge of a storm. Heavy. Hungry. Honest.

Heads started nodding.

“Whoa…” Jungkook muttered, leaning forward, eyes wide.

“That bassline is filthy—in the best way,” Yoongi said, already bobbing his head in rhythm.

“This could be an opener,” Namjoon said, exchanging a look with Hoseok. “Something to set the tone.”

You shifted slightly, voice still soft. “I thought… if you’re going for raw emotion, you need a sound that doesn’t pretend. Just… hits straight.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said, voice filled with awe.

“I can already imagine the choreography,” Hoseok murmured, half-lost in thought.

And then you hesitated again—before quietly tearing a sheet from your notebook. You slid it across the table. A sample verse. Scribbled quickly, but clean and sharp. Your handwriting was neat, your wording simple, but powerful.

Namjoon read it first—eyebrows slowly lifting in surprise.

Yoongi leaned over his shoulder. His face broke into a slow, knowing grin. “This is... really good.”

“It sounds like pain and love and anger all mixed up,” Jimin whispered.

“It feels young and wild and stupid,” Taehyung added. “I like that.”

“I felt like the words should sting a little,” you said shyly. “But still sound beautiful.”

Namjoon passed the page around, and even the vocal line read it carefully, nodding in agreement.

Then Hoseok laughed. “You’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m just... listening closely.”

“Listening,” Yoongi echoed, “and translating feelings into sound. That’s what producers really do.”

There was a pause. Then Jungkook—quiet until now—raised his hand slightly.

“What if we called it…” he paused, thinking. “Something like Dark & Wild?”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up. “That’s it.”

The room filled with quiet excitement, like a match had been struck.

Your sample beat continued to hum softly in the background as they all leaned in—ideas bouncing off the walls, energy rising, creativity pouring out like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

And you?

You stayed curled in the corner, half-hidden by your notebook, a small smile on your lips.

They might not know it yet…

But you had just helped give birth to something unforgettable.

[birdmenmanga]

Hii please talk about your fav tracks from birdmen ost that doesn't exist!!! I wanna know!!! Are those like just songs or do you mean original instrumentals? (Btw I still have to give you my review of that eishi and his mom playlist, I didn't forget just so you know)

HI so this ask is clearly sent in response to this post, which I made in response to watching my mutual's video about the first episode of umineko when they cry (it's funny and you should watch it. hi silas)

he basically opens the video with "yeah so umineko is a banger visual novel with crazy good music. go listen to it" so then I went and listened to it and the music WAS good and then I got mad that I couldn't tell people to listen to banger music from my mental illness series because it doesn't have any music

BUT if we were to talk about the hypothetical BIRDMEN OST right. Hypothetically. boy do I have some thoughts for you.

So let's talk about the vibes of BIRDMEN right. What sorts of themes and aesthetics the series itself is exploring, and essentially the vehicle with which the author is using to sort of carry her message.

The visual aesthetics of the series are dark. Edgy, bordering on apocalyptic. High contrast, bold colors, and little rendering gives this series a very modern and futuristic vibe. Let's look at a couple of early color illustrations:

Even when she's working outside of this color palette, we still have those same elements in the illustrations:

Obviously not all illustrations follow this clean, modern aesthetic, but it gives us a good idea of how she thinks about this series. I specifically bring this up because Kekkaishi, one of her previous series, had a very traditional and historical aesthetic, and in some ways this was reflected through the watercolor artwork.

The rightmost illustration also features the red-yellow-black palette similar to the top photoset, but the soft textures end up giving it a different, warmer feeling.

What I'm getting at is that like the BIRDMEN color illustrations, which uses the digital medium in order to achieve the clean, bold colors, the soundtrack should also feature futuristic instruments, heavy in synths and other digitally created noises.

An idea commonly explored in the series, I'd say, is the idea of discomfort. The world which was once familiar to you is now totally foreign. It's disturbing, unsettling. I think the soundtrack should reflect that.

I think this song does an excellent job at capturing the unsettling atmosphere in BIRDMEN. Opening with the subtle ambient noise, the weird warbling noise, and then adds the unrelenting, repeating high note to build pressure. (ignore miku she's not part of the mental exercise) This is the song that convinced me a heavy, almost subsonic bass pulse like the one featured at 0:49 is an absolute must in the soundtrack. This type of sound profile, vaguely, is what I think "becoming a birdman" sounds like.

While most of this post is "yeah I think something that sounds kinda similar to this or uses sound fonts like this would make a great BIRDMEN OST" I have to pour one out to Cyber Thunder Cider (EZFG). This could just straight up be a blackout fight soundtrack.

Like, that super strong pulse at the start is EXACTLY what I imagine the throb of the back marking to be like if you had to express it through music. You know, this thing:

I REALLY like the timing of this. That first hit, then a beat of silence, and the suspense grows until the full energy of the track kicks in about 10 seconds into the song. You can practically hear Karasuma's mental monologue in the spaces between the beats. And when the track DOES get off the ground (haha?), it's got a very fast-paced, restless beat with these gritty synths. Despite its busyness, it's not so demanding of your attention, and consistent enough that it actually CAN function as a genuine BGM track in my opinion. I fancy myself an imaginer of music videos rather than an imaginer of animations, but unironically I feel like given enough time I could storyboard a gorgeous blackout fight scene to the song, that would literally be an animated scene and not a music video.

Obviously, I don't think ALL the tracks should have to be married to synths. I think EDEN's themes, for instance, should definitely have a touch of sound fonts that have a heavy religious note to it, like church bells or organs. I really enjoy wotaku's... hmm... I don't know what to call this... "Cathedral trap", maybe? I think it really does marry the reverent, intimidating Christian vibe with contemporary percussion. Haters may disagree but I genuinely think EDEN sounds like this:

However I feel like wotaku's music tends to be a bit overbearing and really demands a lot of the listener's attention. You'd have to slow the tracks to at least 0.75x speed to barely make them functional as OST music. special shoutout to the second one. I think the American flock massacre set to that song would go crazy. like if scenes of viktor making the decision to kill them, sanders and the other guy talking about it, was interspersed with the flock getting decimated? do you see the vision. the final gunshot is robin getting sniped. it would go crazy trust me

Now obviously we also have like. Normal Music, right. Like Music Which is Ambiently Playing in the Background While Normal Things Happen. I am not passionate about this type of music but I do still largely agree that they should still follow the synths rule. Here's some thoughts but these are largely subject to change:

This one's a fun one. I think it's worth listening to an on vocal version of it (Psi by r-906), and while largely it does fit into the synth-heavy, dark, low tones of the other songs I pulled out, it also has this really delightfully cheery section at 1:40. sadly I made the mistake of listening to it on loop while reading canis so this song is really tied to that series now. woops!

I am sure everyone is sick and tired of my bringing this song up at the drop of a hat but genuinely I think the blue sections of this PV are really great for the. normal and ordinary parts of the OST. it is light and airy and in some ways it really does feel like flying to me. but again wotaku's music is such a slut for attention it's really not possible to have something else take center stage while it's playing.

Something I'd really like the soundtrack and sound design to feature as like, a recurring thread, would be static. If you listen to some of the G-Witch soundtrack, such as these few songs (just listen to the first 5 seconds of each, you'll get the idea), you'll notice that there's this motif of like, a breathing apparatus:

I reaaally like this. They're pilots in space, and I think this being such a prominent motif in the series really sells the delicate mortality of a human body. It's soooo cunty. I think the birdmen equivalent would be static and here's why okay. "Communication" and "connection" are such huge and prominent themes in BIRDMEN, from the way they're likened to linked PCs, the nerve connections, the telepathy, and so on. Even though I personally imagine the tweets to be insanely high fidelity with no static at all, just a clear and platonic chime of pure thought, I still think static is such a good audio motif to have. Dead air is unsettling. anyways listen to the beginning of WAVE (niki)

those first 10 seconds are kinda goated. I love that in terms of the sound design.

well, anyways. my thoughts! enjoy!

[boneapplet]

Beneath the Ash, the Flame pt 3

Relationship: OC!Salamander x OC!Salamander

Warnings: minor description of injury, minor description of funeral

Word Count: 1275

Requested Tags for All Works: @beckyninja @runin64 @ilovewolvezz

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

Kadai is greeted by white surroundings when he finally awakens. Not the darkness of stone. White, harsh and clinical. The antiseptic brightness of an Apothecarion chamber cut into the volcanic heart of Ignea Spire. Air filtered, clean in a way that feels almost wrong to a son of Nocturne. It lacks the grit, the ash, the heat. It lacks life.

Body aching in layers, deep bone-marrow pain beneath the numbness of medicae suspensors and graft-seal. Something hisses beside him. A tube. A servo. The familiar click-clack of Mechadendrites adjusting dosage.

“His cortical readouts are returning to combat baseline,” a voice murmurs in the distance. Calm. Efficient. Mechanized.

“Let him wake slowly,” another says. “The flame does not rush to rise. Nor should he.”

Kadai blinks. Vision sharpening in pulses. And then, movement. Across from him, seated on a reinforced slab, his left arm stripped of armor and his side wrapped in fresh synth-skin, sits Arakh’Tor. Awake. Watching. The old drake has a scar now, long and blackened, running from his collar to jaw. His gaze is steady. Heavy. When their eyes meet, he gives no nod. No smile. Just a breath. Like the exhale before hammer strikes anvil.

“You broke your leg,” Arakh’Tor says at last.

Kadai’s voice rasps up like stone from a shaft. “You broke everything else.”

A beat of silence, then the edge of Arakh’Tor’s mouth lifts. The ghost of a grin.

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

“You almost died following it. Apothecarion says you’ll mend,” Arakh’Tor murmurs. “They gave you a new hip. Your ribs were replaced. The helm too,though they saved the broken one. You’ll want it, I expect.”

Kadai lets his head fall back against the med-foam slab, staring up at the recessed hexlight in the ceiling.

“I will,” he says. “It’s proof.”

“Of what?”

Turning his head. “That even stone can bleed.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Only the quiet hum of vitae pumps and the distant echo of forge-chant beyond the walls fill the chamber. Other battle brothers pass in and out, some limping, some wrapped in mediplastbacta  wraps and pain-suppressors. The Salamanders survived Tarsis Thule. Barely. Few of their squad left whole.

Kadai’s voice came again, softer this time. “They’ll send us back soon.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll fight again.”

“Yes.”

Looking at Arakh’Tor, really looking—and sees not just the endurance, the strength, but the lines of wear carved deep into the flesh beneath that basalt-hard gaze.

“You’ll go without me, won’t you?” Kadai asks.

Arakh’Tor says nothing, but his fingers curl, just slightly, around the edge of the slab.

“I wasn’t meant to keep you,” Kadai says. “Just to remind you the fire still lives.”

A long breath escapes Arakh’Tor’s lips.

“You reminded me,” he says. “But I do not leave fire behind.”

The words settle between them like coals in a brazier. Warm. Unmoving. The moment broken as the sound of armored boots approaches, then a low knock. A junior Apothecary enters the private bay with a dataslate in hand.

“Brothers,” he greets. “You are both cleared for ceremony. The Primarch’s flame shall be lit in honor of Vul’Shar’s fallen. The names of the twenty-two will be sung.”

Kadai carefully sits up slowly. Pain flaring across his side. Arakh’Tor stands first. Steady. Silent. For the first time since they were pulled from that mountain, he reaches out, not to drag Kadai to his feet but to offer his hand. A choice, which Kadai gladly takes. Together, they walk toward the rising light of flames.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty-two pyres line the inner sanctum. Their flames reaching toward the high, vaulted ceilings, where vent-arches funnel the smoke heavenward, out into Nocturne’s soot-dark skies. Incense burns in brass cauldrons. Chains of molten steel hang from the shrine’s pillars, each link hammered with the names of the fallen. The sound of the Flame-Singers fills the chamber—low, reverent, deep-voiced chants that roll like thunder through the forge-temple. Each syllable is a name. Each name, a life given.

Kadai stands with his bracers clasped before him, head bowed. His armor bares no chapter markings, stripped clean for mourning. Only the fire-wrought glyph of his clan remains, etched into the shoulder plate. Scars line his neck now, pink and new.

Arakh’Tor stands beside him, unmoving as obsidian. The scars across his chest are visible through the open clasp of his robe. In his hand, he holds a helm, Kadai’s ruined one, its faceplate shattered, its ceramite scored black from flame and collapse. It is not offered to the flame. It isn’t burned. Some relics are not sacrifices.

When the last name is sung, the Flame-Keeper strikes the brazier at the altar with a hammer of bone and brass. A final gout of flame surges, and with it, the chants end. A hush falling over all of them. Brothers step forward to lay their offerings, their mementos, their weapons forged in shared battles. But Arakh’Tor and Kadai don’t move. They stand long after the others withdrew, the warmth of the flames washing over them in silence.

Until at last, without looking at him, Arakh’Tor says “You should have let me fall.”

Kadai, quietly says “You should have listened when I said I wouldn’t.”

No anger between them. No need to speak of it further. Just the fire. And the memory it holds.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upon the edge of the outer forge terraces sits the shrine, overlooking the volcanic chasms beyond Ignea Spire. A brazier the size of a Land Raider burns at its heart, eternal, tended by silent servitors and young aspirants alike. It is said to be kindled from the same fire that once lit the Promethean Oath at Nocturne’s founding.

Night has fallen, though the world never grows truly dark here. Lava veins pulsing in the chasms below. Ash drifting like snow. The air is warm. Heavy. Kadai sits on the stone steps before the shrine, helmet cradled in his lap. His eyes fixed on the flame. Not lost. Not searching.

Arakh’Tor approaches from the forge path, no longer wearing his formal robes. Only a forge cloak slung over one shoulder, the other bare. His presence, as ever, fills the space before he speaks.

“You missed the feast,” he says.

Kadai gives a faint smile. “Too many speeches. Too much talking. I wanted silence.”

Arakh’Tor makes a low sound of agreement and takes a seat beside him. For a while, they simply watch the fire. Let it speak for them.

Kadai breaks the silence first, “When I was trapped beneath the mountain, I thought of this place. Of this flame. I told myself… if I ever saw it again, I’d never take it for granted.”

He glances sideways. “I thought of you too.”

Arakh’Tor’s jaw moves, but he doesn’t answer immediately.

“I prayed to the forge to let you live. I offered the blade I was making for the Chapter’s armory. Tempered it in cold ash. Broke it with my own hand.”

Kadai blinks. “That was yours?”

Arakh’Tor nods.

“I thought it had no balance,” Kadai retorts, teasing gently.

“It didn’t. Because I forged it in grief, not purpose.” He looks at Kadai, truly looks. “But you gave me both again.”

Kadai hesitates. Then reaches into his vambrace, and pulls something small, a shard of blackened ceramite. Placing it gently in Arakh’Tor’s hand.

“It’s from my chestplate.”

The older Salamander closes his fingers over it. Holding it like it mattered. They don’t speak of love. They don’t have to. Instead, Kadai leans, barely, resting his shoulder against Arakh’Tor’s. Arakh’Tor, after a long moment, leans back. In the distance, thunder rolls across the chasm. But here, by the flame, they are still. Together. Unbroken.

[hydnes]

long post incoming: something about richter's themes (divine bloodlines & strange bloodlines respectively) that i pointed out on twitter but also wanted to point out here is that ... actually this would probably work better with a video example but has anyone noticed what's going on with the synth strings in both themes?

divine bloodlines is in what i think is a major key, which is associated with happiness and triumph and all that kind of stuff. it starts off with a guitar melody, and then eventually carries on into a more delicate synth (probably representing a more sensitive and caring side of richter's) while the guitar takes a backseat and grows a little weaker, and then at around the middle... the synth is still there, or the melody is still being carried, but the chords of an organ are also behind it this time. which i consider to be THE dracula instrument - toccata and fugue, anyone?

to me this represents how richter's identity almost solely stands on his ability or lack thereof to beat dracula. he's strong and powerful and at the forefront of everyone's attention, but what he thinks and worries about and who he wants to be and what he keeps to himself (represented by the synth) looms over him regardless.

in strange bloodlines, they're not supported, the song might be in minor key, and that entire song is off-kilter in general: it literally even starts with a falling tone, how on-the-nose is that?! the rest of the song is pulsing and manic like an uncontrollable heartbeat, the percussion is crashing and chaotic, and this time the synth strings that i feel represent richter himself are the sole focus, standing almost completely alone.

almost.

at around the second instance of the melody repeating or something, it's just slightly different and has a fluttery synth accompanying it. not only that, but there's more to the melody: it's the same, but it continues! richter doesn't die there, he's not supposed to!

i have no proof of this but i think the fluttery synth is meant to represent alucard opposing his decision as it vaguely sounds like the intro to "the tragic prince". i have no proof of this, no tabs or sheet music or anything, it just sounds like that to me. and i have tinnitus so take my opinions with a grain of salt :P

i'm not a musician even though i want to be one, so someone else with better education or training could talk about this more easily, but it's just something i noticed... and you can really see the difference between the two in the harmony of darkness version of divine bloodlines! it starts with richter's "regular" theme, and then halfway through you get those orchestra stabs symbolizing confusion and guilt and pain before giving way to strange bloodlines's melody.

it's really good symbolism for his downfall, what made him fall in the first place, and - if you're taking the fluttery synth the way i'm taking it - the person that picked him back up.

that is all, thank you!

[stoic--rose]

my chemical brothers cds finally came in!!!!! so uuuuh i guess ill do overviews of each album.

Dig Your Own Hole - 1997

almost certainly my favorite chembros album. full of pumpin beats, punchy drums, unique vocal samples, pretty much everything i love from electronic. the eponymous track is very good, but my favorite track has to be Get Up On It Like This. i love the brass sample they use, its just too damn good, i can never get enough of it. Electrobank is another favorite, the vocal tracks at the beginning are pretty fun, and i like what it turns into later. (bonus points for just having explosion samples at the end) Setting Sun is the first song on the album to have full lyrics which is pretty cool, and the way this album ends is just so outta left field but damn its good as hell. Where Do I Begin is such a laidback and chill track that feels very introspective, and The Private Psychedelic Reel is just a journey of a song. also, my favorite part of this album is the middle section, specifically It Doesn't Matter, Don't Stop The Rock, and Get Up On It Like This. each track flows neatly into the next, and theyre all really good tracks. Don't Stop The Rock has this squishy, unorthodox synth in it that i really fuck with. It Doesn't Matter also has this pulsing, harsh bass that i like a lot. overall, a phenomenal album with back to back bangers and a soft side near the end.

Surrender - 1999

this album is actually home to the first chembros song i ever heard, that being Let Forever Be, a personal favorite of mine. Surrender has a lot of good to it, though i dont think it's one of my favorites. Music:Response is a really good opener, Orange Wedge is super funky, i already said my thoughts on Let Forever Be, but other than that there's not too many standout tracks here, at least to me. Under The Influence was on the WipE'out" 3 soundtrack and fits in pretty well there, but listening on its own its nothin to write home about. Hey Boy Hey Girl is weirdly popular, but it just doesn't do anything for me. Out of Control is good, but it drags on a bit too long for me. the eponymous track is good though, i like that one. overall, i think surrender just aint for me mostly. its got some tracks i like, and ill definitely listen to it all, it just isnt gonna be my first pick.

Push The Button - 2004

for this album, the focus on electronic is pushed to the side a bit to make way for a more lyrical, hip hop focused album, and nowhere is that more clear than the opening track, Galvanize, which is chembros' most well known song. and i like it well enough! the wordsmiths here do a great job, and i like the string sample that permeates most of the song. that being said, i think it drags on a bit and is a little too long? you could definitely cut this one down and not lose a whole lot. but it has the catchiness to not make that runtime boring, for sure. after Galvanize comes The Boxer, which is probably my favorite track on the album. by this point the change in style for Push The Button is starting to shine through more, but the chembros know how to make it work, and MAN does it shine in The Boxer. it has this looping, cut up sample of a keyboard that i just cant get enough of, and the vocals here are super great. other tracks of note are Believe, which has a lot of cool noises in it, Shake Break Bounce, which has some cool drums and guitars, and Left Right, a commentary piece on war, which i can always appreciate. (shoutouts to Flobots) Close Your Eyes is a classic chembros move of having a more relaxed, uplifting track near the end of the album, and it does its job super well. overall, while Push The Button is very different from everything chembros had done up to that point, i think they tackle the new style really well and deliver a lot of unique bangers here. really great stuff.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2008 - Number 7 - Di Bono - "I'm Not Sorry"

Belgium Count 2008: 10

Fred Di Bono had been the front man of the band Silverene, a low key rock band for several years prior to this. They'd had an album out, a couple of slick music videos and some money invested. It hadn't really led anywhere yet, but the band were still together and the band looked good.

Fred was perhaps more famous for being the less well-known half of a celebrity couple. His wife was Evi Hanssen, singer and TV presenter, and was very familiar to the Belgian TV watching public. Around this time, Evi was the host of the Flemish version of Survivors, the Flemish version of Project Runway as well as a couple of music quizzes.

Fred's band Silverene were still together at this point so why he went solo for Eurosong I'm unsure - maybe it was a conflict of schedules or just that the rest of the band didn't want to go to Eurovision at all. Whatever the reason, Fred took to the stage to tell the world he didn't care and that wasn't going to apologise.

I'm Not Sorry was co-written by Fred and Liset Alea. Liset is possibly a better known singer than Fred is, having had a successful solo career in Europe having moved there from her native Cuba. Her most well-known musical contribution was as one of the several female singers of Nouvelle Vague, the French-based bossa nova covers band who are famous for their laid back, sunny versions of dark and brooding songs such as Ever Fallen in Love, Depeche Mode's Master and Servant and The Killing Moon.

It's an urgent song, with a rock vibe, but a pulsing dance beat. There's a touch of The Killers about it, if not Depeche Mode themselves. That love of synth/guitar rock outs is evident, although the unapologetic lyrics aren't too meaningful. Fred's definitely had enough of whatever it is he's singing about anyway.

This feels like contemporary radio rock in a way that isn't usually the case for national finals. In 2008 though bands like the Paranoiacs and Crumbland are bringing that sound. Actual bands trying to get to Eurovision - it almost feels as if the rockier side of the music industry is waking up to the opportunity that Eurovision presents, especially in the wake of the 2007 rock response to Lordi's 2006 win.

Despite this, Fred finished fifth and last in his heat and didn't go any further in Eurosong this year. Neither he nor Liset featured again in a national final, although Liset did co-write a song for the 2013 edition of Sanremo. The various parts of Silverene reformed to release a new album in 2009 before the band went their separate ways.

This is one of Fred and Silverene's singles, Perfect Timing

[fusodj]

Lost in the Groove: The Art of DJing Minimal Techno

Minimal techno isn’t just music—it’s an immersive journey, a pulsing soundscape that strips away the excess to reveal the raw, hypnotic essence of the beat. As a DJ, spinning minimal techno is about more than just playing tracks; it’s about crafting a vibe that resonates deeply with the crowd.

Here’s what makes DJing minimal techno special:

🎧 The Flow

Minimal techno thrives on subtlety. It’s not about dramatic drops or fast transitions—it’s about weaving a seamless, hypnotic journey. Each track bleeds into the next, creating an unbroken groove that feels almost meditative.

⚙️ The Layers

This genre is a playground of textures and nuances. The key is mastering EQs and effects to bring out the hidden details—those crisp hi-hats, deep kicks, and shifting synths that breathe life into the sound.

🌀 The Connection

With minimal techno, you’re not just reading the room—you’re feeling it. The repetitive nature of the beats allows listeners to lose themselves in the rhythm, creating a deeper connection between DJ and crowd.

🔥 The Challenge

No over-the-top tricks here. The challenge is keeping it interesting with subtle changes, perfect timing, and a killer selection. It’s about proving that less really is more.

For the DJs out there:

What’s your go-to minimal techno track? What’s your favorite trick for keeping the vibe alive during a long set? Let’s trade ideas and keep the groove alive.

🎵 “Music is the silence between the beats.”

[jch3ss3cak3]

Guys I made chat GPT make a fan song from mouthwashing. After multiple tries here's what I got (Will post updates)

"Wreckage of the Tulpar"

(Fan song inspired by Mouthwashing by Wrong Organ)

Verse 1

The Tulpar lies broken, drifting in space,

Five souls abandoned, each hiding disgrace.

Jimmy, the captain, took charge through the pain,

Blaming Curly’s silence for the crash and the strain.

Chorus

Lost in the void, trapped in despair,

Secrets unravel, but no one’s there.

Bound to the silence, haunted cries,

In the wreckage of Tulpar, each of them dies.

Verse 2

Anya clings to secrets, shame and regret,

Hides in the med bay, her last silhouette.

Swansea stands guard with a fire axe drawn,

Protecting Daisuke, who won’t see dawn.

Chorus

Lost in the void, trapped in despair,

Secrets unravel, but no one’s there.

Bound to the silence, haunted cries,

In the wreckage of Tulpar, each of them dies.

Verse 3

Daisuke crawls, wounded and frail,

Lost in the vents, his hope gone stale.

Swansea can’t save him, the axe falls fast,

A mercy in darkness, his loyalty’s last.

Bridge

Flashbacks reveal what twisted this fate,

Anya’s confession, Jimmy’s hate.

Layoffs and ruin, a death wish concealed,

The truth of the crash, slowly revealed.

Chorus

Lost in the void, trapped in despair,

Secrets unravel, but no one’s there.

Bound to the silence, haunted cries,

In the wreckage of Tulpar, each of them dies.

Outro

Jimmy throws one last birthday for ghosts,

With their hollow faces, he toasts.

He feeds Curly flesh and cries in despair,

Then takes his own life, a twisted prayer.

As Curly drifts off in a frozen state,

The Tulpar sails on, bound by fate.

Ghosts in the hull, no peace to find,

In the void, they’re lost, out of time.

Instruments it suggested

To match the dark, psychological horror feel of Mouthwashing, a mix of eerie, atmospheric, and gritty instruments could really capture the tension and descent into madness. Here’s a breakdown of what might fit:

1. Electric Guitar (Distorted & Reverb-heavy):

A distorted, gritty electric guitar would add tension and a raw, industrial feel. Adding reverb and maybe even feedback in certain parts would create a sense of isolation and madness.

2. Synths and Pads (Dark Ambient):

Atmospheric synth pads can add a haunting, spacey backdrop, filling in the empty “void” of space. Low, pulsating drones would add an unsettling foundation beneath each verse and chorus.

3. Bass Guitar (Distorted & Heavy):

A heavy, distorted bass guitar could underscore the tension, especially during choruses. It should have a slow, rumbling feel, like a heartbeat, building suspense and dread.

4. Drums (Low, Minimalistic):

The drums should be sparse, with an emphasis on deep, reverberating toms and a slow, heavy beat. Keeping cymbals subtle (or even absent in parts) could add a sense of doom, with more impact on beats like a pulse or heartbeat.

5. Creepy Sound Effects (Distant Metallic Clangs, Airy Sounds):

Adding metallic sounds, like clanging metal or scraping, could give the feeling of being trapped in a confined space. These effects can act as background elements, creating dissonance to heighten the atmosphere.

6. Electric Violin/Cello (Dissonant, Moaning):

An electric violin or cello playing dissonant, bending notes would add to the eerie, despairing feel, almost like wailing. These instruments could emphasize the emotional toll of the situation, especially in instrumental breaks.

7. Low Choir Vocals or Dark Vocals (Layered & Haunting):

A low choir or ghostly vocal effects (low and airy) would emphasize the psychological breakdown and despair. These could be added in the background, almost like distant voices or murmurs, enhancing the supernatural vibe.

8. Piano (Soft, Minor Key, Dissonant):

Together, these elements could make the song feel haunting, claustrophobic, and full of dread, perfectly matching the dark themes of Mouthwashing. Let me know if you want any instrument focus shifted for a different feel!

A soft, echoing piano could be used in the verses to build tension, playing sparse, dissonant notes or chords to echo a sense of solitude.

[goodbysunball]

Parched & parcel

Things are getting noticeably heavier and weirder, and we're the better for it. Some metal, finally, paired with some fine Aussie experimental noise and a band that'll make you believe in the dream of NYC again. It's the best season for this kind of stuff, so dive in.

dprk, Shitville Tourist LP (Studio Fabrik)

May I introduce to you Shitville Tourist (title of the year) by dprk, apparently a duo of Nick Dan (xNoBBQx) and Richard Fielding (Severed Heads) with support from a few mates. It feels like a journey in time back to where Twisted Village and Kye once roamed, where the journey largely justified the end product and the listener could take it or end up spending big later. While there is no question this record took me a few listens to unravel, what didn't take much to pique my interest was the gentle loop on "Crazy Little Corkscrew," something that sounds like a lullaby played with a steel drum, being poked and prodded by various electronics over its seven minutes. The track, like all four tracks on here, doesn't really go anywhere over its duration, but floats, writhes, twists and soaks in the sounds being made: pure joy in the noise made by machines. The title track and "Blumen Schmerz" are darker, more cavernous, where synths bleep and blot and drum machines whirr and exhale steam, creating the illusion of life where there is none. The latter has some creepy guitar parts splayed out on the pulsing synth backbone, but the investigation leads to no further conclusions; there is no categorization here. The finale, "Gulag In Space," provides not only another great title but a track nearly worthy of dancing, especially after the mind-fuck of the first three tracks. The beat bounces off all surfaces, as slippery as the rest of the record, but there is a sparkle on "Gulag" that winks at the listener as Shitville Tourist winds down. Something magnetic, or just plain alien, about the whole affair, but whatever it is, the sheer number of times I've played this have more than justified the hefty price tag. Great debut; let's hope for more from these true underground freaks.

Excarnated Entity, Mass Grave Horizon LP (Nuclear Winter)

Greece's Nuclear Winter puts out a ton of releases, so much that I've seemingly looked them over in the last few years. But taking stock, they've been responsible for the physical releases of a number of near-and-dear U.S.-based death metal acts like Blasphematory, the mighty Anhedonist, and now, Excarnated Entity. Excarnated Entity features a former member of Anhedonist, and there's definitely a similar approach to death metal with the two acts: mournful, grandiose but without the heavy-handed use of keyboards or Gregorian chant-like vocals. Excarnated Entity is also singularly focused on the horrors of war - not to be confused with the glorification of such in war metal - and provides ample heft to the incalculable loss of life. The band's demo, also reissued by Nuclear Winter in 2020, was a good primer for their debut LP, but the LP is devastating. The instrumental opener "Abjection" runs an elegant Mournful Congregation-style guitar line into the ground, simultaneously distraught and triumphant, and sets the stage for the rest. For anyone paying attention to the recent death-doom resurgence, Mass Grave Horizon fits right in and sets itself up near the top of that heap. While I think that there's a bit of momentum wasted in the middle section of "Corridor of Flame," that's really the only complaint I can level at the record. Everything else is properly filthy: gurgling vocals over blastbeats slam headfirst into downtuned chugging riffs, and a elegiac solo rises from the cracks in the pointlessly blood-stained soil. It's between "Irradiated Shadows" (the part before the solo, yeesh) and the punishing title track for my favorites here, but there's not a dud in the bunch. It's worth noting that the band does four-minute sprints as well as they can stretch tracks out to twice that length - a versatility that elevates Excarnated Entity above the one-note lifers rehashing the same formula on every track. Bleak, miserable and, given the state of the world, timely death-doom is what you get on Mass Grave Horizon, and if you think you've heard it before, it's worth hearing again in this singularly focused and dimming light.

VoidCeremony, Threads of Unknowing LP (20 Buck Spin)

I've got to give Nic at Repressed Records credit for pushing this one, as anything combining descriptors like "jazz" and "prog" with "metal" usually makes me run for the hills. But, this new VoidCeremony LP is checking all the boxes while flirting with all of the above, while (as Nic notes) throwing in a fretless bass solo on nearly every song to boot. The band plays death metal, firstly, and while there are some space-y outros and instrumentals, everything feels of a piece rather than forcing together disparate parts. The label press mentions that the band plays "with the gliding, controlled chaos and smooth fluidity of a jazz quartet," and that checks out, but I don't smell anything particularly jazzy about the record. Rather, I get a big whiff of Gorguts when listening to this record, another band that seamlessly combined progressive, thrash and death metal with grooves, resulting in something impressively complex without making it feel like a homework assignment. "Writhing in the Facade of Time" probably best displays all of these aspects, from the fading-in tech-death opener, to the sky-scraping guitar solos, to the crushing close of the track before the group's whisked away on a mystical Moog coda. The band shifts from strength to strength without any bloat, and just as importantly, without any clean vocals. Threads of Unknowing is my go-to workout record this year, the fluidity of the drumming providing blastbeat stress and necessary space in equal measure. Strap in, take a trip; whether you buy into the lyrics or overarching theme is up to you, but either way it's one of the most thrilling death metal records of the year.

Weak Signal, War&War LP (12XU)

Cool "reissue" of an album digitally released in 2022, hopefully given a wider reach with the push of 12XU. War&War is Weak Signal's third LP, and it sounds like a band comfortable with themselves, their capabilities and their sound: they can rip off a garage-punk track like "Don't Think About It" and slow things to a simmer on "Consolation" with ease. That the band sounds so self-assured did make this record feel a little too easy the first few times; but, like label mates Lewsberg, the complexity of the tracks shines through on iterative spins. Seemingly small choices like the backing vocal melody on "Names" or the sparkling Cass McCombs guitar on "Spooky Feeling" begin to feel like bold, powerful moves amidst the background of resignation/resilience across the album. The mostly spoken, barely sung vocals paired with the often bluesy guitar lines give the record a rough, workingman feel - which, for me, means that things ain't going your way but what are you gonna do about it - but there's no glory in it, just a general disdain for how things are. It's definitely a bit of a downer, though I think the band would prefer "realist," and two lyrics from the middle of the record seem illustrative of the this approach: "I'm no weirdo/I'm no freak/but things keep happening to me" from "Songworld," and "If you think I care/that's where you're wrong" from "Yr Deal." I don't find that the lyrics convey apathy, rather an infinite patience or aplomb in the face of everything spinning uncontrollably off-axis. War&War feels similar in spirit to what True Widow was doing on the heavy sigh of As High as the Highest Heavens..., though without the depressive bent of that record. A bit of despair creeps in on the cover of Johnny Thunders' "It's Not Enough," which bleeds into the gray, abstract noise of the title track, but the band puts their dukes up again on closer "Who the Hell Are U?," a fitting end to the record to reinforce the group's street savvy instincts. Weak Signal's delivered a doozy, and one of my favorite new-to-me discoveries of the year so far.

[iodotsys]

Exactly! I think exposing yourself to new music even if you end up not liking it is a huge part of learning what you do like too! (Also it's super cool that you're looking for inspiration for your own band!!)

Prob my last little batch for ya bc I'm at work:

Do It All The Time by IDK How

Ghost by Confetti

Lowlife by Poppy

The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake

Wasted Summers by Juju<3

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Do It All The Time by IDK How But They Found Me

The distortion (I believe its tube distortion I very well could be wrong though) on the vocals throughout the song felt like a bit too much. The melody didn't go anywhere, but it had a good beat. I have heard this song before and I don't think its one of the band's best. I don't really like this song much, just sounds produced for the radio. 5/10.

Ghost by Confetti

Sorta plain, sounds like a lot of songs I've heard. Definitely has a good beat, but not much going on with the song musically. Was enjoyable to listen to but again, it sounds like a lot of other songs out there, especially from the mid 2010's. 6/10.

Lowlife by Poppy

I have a love/hate relationship with Poppy. I have a few of their songs favorited. This is not one of the songs of theirs I like. I do enjoy how her voice is the melody for this song against a backtrack, but their voice is mixed far infront of the backtrack. It drowns it out. And there are times where their voice just stays on one note, which is a little painful to listen to. 4/10, kinda hurt my ears.

The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake

Didn't like, its spreading false information with the first lyric. Moss does not grow on the North side of trees. …fjrdkghsjkl Sorry I had to say that. XDD Anyhow, I enjoyed the up and down feel of this. I felt like I was listening to a vocal metronome, if that makes sense? Made me wanna tap my finger on the table to the beat. I enjoyed it, but I wouldn't listen to it again. 5/10

Wasted Summers by Juju<3

This song reminds me of old 90's Blur. The voice singing super off key in the background was annoying and ruined the song for me. Would've been a nice chill song otherwise. Other than that, the guitar rift was alright, nothing special though. 3/10 because of those backup vocals.

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

The synth in this was very good. I loved the fluttering sound it had going from left to right. The pulsing sound of the vocals really went with the background synth. The singing off beat at the end was off putting though. It came out of no where and took me out of the groove of the song. I think he was doing a 1/2 meter against a 4/4 which was just strange sounding. (I don't know if those are the correct meters, but I did my best trying to analyze them) 5/10, it was alright.

No seriously, this type of stuff can be imperative as a musician. If I only stew in things I constantly listen to, that's damning myself to stagnate artistically. And thanks! My band's called Scent of Steam. I just released my first album this April and I've got a new single coming out on Sept 30th.

If you're curious, here's the link to my album. You can listen if you so desire, but nbd if not.

Thanks again for the songs! I enjoyed reviewing them.

[smokeybeatz]

Smokey Beatz Creates the "CAR CHASE": An Audio Action Ride

New-school beatmaker Smokey Beatz is back with a track that will commandeer your music system just like you commandeered your playlist. His new work is a hard-charging, high-energy "CAR CHASE" under "the hearts' and feet racing" feel, capturing the raw energy of a high-velocity chase through neon city streets. The song is out now on Spotify and YouTube and is a must-stream for anyone wanting a sonic triumph as cinematic as it is spectacular.

The Vibe of "CAR CHASE"

As you follow the video, its thumping beat and futuristic sound design really trap you in. Smokey Beatz has fused raw basslines, tight hi-hats, and glistening synths to build a cyborg-city racing experience of an adrenaline rush track.  The production is full but restrained, with each beat pushing ahead like wheels scorching concrete highway. It is the song that gets you winding down your windows, cranking the music very loud, and losing yourself in the rush.

What really separates CAR CHASE from the rest of the pack is the ability to paint compelling pictures. You can almost see the glittering city lights, sense the urgency of an escape, and probably even hear the roar of the engines as the beats culminate in one of its bombastic drops.  If you like electronic, trap, or semi-cinematic music, this song is an engaging, habit-forming mix of genres.

Why You Need to Listen

Smokey Beatz has been gaining traction in the new-generation music scene with his unflinching, creative approach to beat-making. CAR CHASE is evidence of how he can turn out tracks that are half atmosphere and half storytelling. It's perfect for midnight drive parties, intense workout sessions, or even background sound for your next venture—video editing, gaming streams, short films. The track's versatility makes it a great playlist addition.

Don't take our word for it—see and hear it yourself. Listen to CAR CHASE on Spotify for crisp, clear-sounding audio that brings the production's every detail to the front. Or visit YouTube to watch the visuals that bring the song's high-energy vibe to life. The video takes the song's film-like quality to its fullest extent, with slick editing and a pulse-pounding storyline that complements Smokey's groove perfectly.

Smokey Beatz: The Beat's Architect

For those that don't know Smokey Beatz, he is relatively new name to many under-the-radar artists and has made a similar progression on the electronic and hip-hop beats to his following. Smokey's style focuses on pushing boundaries, bending genres and developing world-building touchpoints. With the release of CAR CHASE, Smokey is not only keeping pace with the game, he is moving it forward.

The intersection of fans of Flume, Metro Boomin, or even the movie scores of Hans Zimmer will find something valuable within Smokey Beatz's catalogue. The apt combination of atmospheric textures and tight beats, make him a gold nugget amongst producers.

Join the Chase

Ready to live the thrill? Add CAR CHASE to your playlist and Smokey Beatz will take you on a ride of a lifetime. Stream on Spotify for continuous vibes, or visit the music video on YouTube to delve deeper into the world Smokey's created. Follow Smokey Beatz on socials to stay in the loop for more drops that’ll keep your speakers buzzing. Share your thoughts on CAR CHASE with the hashtag #CARChase and let the world know you’re riding with the Beatz!