Anyone Else Feeling Like What The Fuck

you fucked up

idk what you’re referring to but probably

it's as if he knows to sense the laughter before the sound hits his ears , loud and strong and vivid enough to cut through the life that pulses through the loft. she's always had a way of demanding attention — even from him , even right now — and perhaps that's why they fall into this tug of war : one where she tries to move close and he tries to pull away. it shouldn't bother him , but it does ( she'd like that , wouldn't she ? ) , and he lets his eyes flutter shut as her head falls beside his. he doesn't laugh at her little explanation , just lets out a huff with no definite meaning. " feelin' generous tonight , or did the jungle juice just fuck you up that bad? " naji shifts his weight just slightly , barely a movement at all , like it’s enough to put a barrier between them — even though he knows she'll break it , same as always. he's one to talk with the way the liquor is clouding up his brain already , making him a little less resistant to her casual audacity , fingers tightening around the cigarette as she leans close. naji's pulse quickens — he hates that it does — and he freezes up , like the creature carved out of stone like everyone else makes him out to be. the weight of the tin falls heavy in his pocket , his voice suddenly drying his throat . it drops low , a harsh murmur for just the two of them , barely loud enough to hear over the music. " guess i'm your second charity case of the night. " without waiting for a response, his fingers slip further into his pocket, feeling the cool, familiar shape of the tin. it doesn't rattle the same way it should , and his curiosity finally lets his gaze slide over to find the outline of her face beside him. " do i open it now , or when i get home? "

avoid  her  gaze,  and  she’ll  only  want  it  more.  a  masochist,  no  doubt.  words  sting,  sure,  but  they’re  far  more  amusing  when  delivered  by  someone  who  usually  seems  so  silent  and  stoic.  it’s  as  if  she  has  the  wicked  ability  to  reach  into  his  insides,  twisting  his  nerves  whenever  she  wants  …  and,  staring  at  the  side  of  his  face,  she  wants  now.  shoes,  right.  she  forces  her  eyes  away  from  him,  if  only  briefly,  glancing  down  at  her  feet  before  bursting  into  belly - aching  laughter  —  a  big,  thunderous  sound  that  could  surely  be  heard  over  the  pounding  music.  “  i  told  this  girl  that  my  heels  were  so  fuckin’  uncomfortable,  ”  juno  leans  against  the  same  wall  as  him,  slowly  encroaching  on  his  territory,  “  and  she  said  that,  if  i  wasn’t  gonna  use  them,  i  should  give  them  to  her  instead.  funny.  ”  there’s  a  brief  pause  as  her  amusement  dies  down,  only  a  few  weak chuckles  left  as  evidence  of  its  existence.  head  rolls  back, joining the pair in their rest with a bang.  “  well,  now  that  you’ve  had  your  fun  stabbing  me  a  little,  ”  she  nudges  naji’s  leg  with  one  of  the  victims  of  the  earlier  robbery,  hand  sticking  inside  her  enormous  coat  to  retrieve  her  debt’s  payment  —  feeling  like  she’s  holding  her  heart  between  shaky  fingers.  she  infiltrates  one  of  his  pockets  and  buries  it  in there. deep.  a  secret.  unable  —  or  unwilling  —  to  witness  his  reaction,   for  whatever  reason.  “  got  you  something.  use  ‘em  wisely.  ” 

✦ . ── picks a direction , it's ninety in memphis turns up the music so thoughts don't intrude predictably winds up thinkin' of elvis — and wonders if he believed SONGS COULD COME TRUE .

NAJI KARIM ( emilio sakraya) , he/him , roadie for @staticavenue .ᐟ intro. pinterest. spotify.

── .✦ penned by envy ( she/her , 21 ).

i have feelings for you

disgust and contempt i hope

✦ . ── WANTED ! ( ft. song titles as inspo . )

you're gonna go far — noah kahan

the relationship naji has with this person has grown into something undeniably familial. he misses his brother often , and maybe that's why he sought out someone who could understand him just as well . i'm envisioning a sibling bond built and a rare , easy connection that doesn't need much explaining . they're likely one of the few people who can get naji to laugh or smile often , and maybe even the person in static avenue who understands him best . he'd honestly do anything for them ( and maybe they'd return that loyalty right back ) .

the vibes are : teasing nicknames & we take care of each other & stealing fries off of each others' plates & unspoken loyalty & you came? you called & always knowing when the other is upset & easy laughter & fiercely defensive of each other & crashing on the others' couch & borrowed clothes & making pacts & pinky promises.

reckless driving — lizzy mcalpine

careful , careful naji doesn't do relationships , but there's something about this person that keeps him circling back . maybe it's because they know more about him than he cares to admit , or maybe because they're so different from each other—where he's quiet and withdrawn , this person is likely to be at least a little bit more open and expressive than he is . they don't hate each other , really , but i'm thinking there's some undeniable tension , the kind that lingers and makes it clear that there are some intense feelings being swept under the rug . this doesn't have to go anywhere , that's fully dependent on chemistry , but i'd at least love some eventual understanding !

the vibes are : fights that feel like a confession & intense eye contact & sharing earbuds & everyone can see it but them & stolen glances turn into eyerolls & shared cigarettes under the stars & "accidental" touches & sitting in silence but feeling understood.

heading south — zach bryan

naji’s relationship with this person has evolved from envy to a begrudging sense of respect. this person always seemed to have it all figured out ( at least , according to naji ) seeming to have the perfect life and a particular charm to go along with it . to naji , they represented everything he felt he lacked , starting a likely one-sided rivalry completely fueled by jealousy. maybe they're not as perfect as naji thought , and now he has to see them around , often in the same spaces because of the band . maybe he can sense their vulnerability right now , or maybe they're sick of his judgements , but somehow they're slowly trying to work around whatever tensions still exist .

the vibes are : sighing and rolling eyes at one another & usually avoiding working together too closely & awkward conversations & asking others what their opinion is & trying to remain professional instead of vindictive & keeping interactions as short as possible & trying to get along because it's what's best for the band & never really losing that competitive edge .

misc things !

past fling that ended on good terms ; decided they're better off as friends?

that one person who always comes to him when they need literally anything fixed

one of the artists please teach him your instrument ; he's a fast learner

any and all other plots welcome !

hi hello here's a little tag drop !

naji's body relaxes almost imperceptibly as the familiar voice hits his ears , the sight of major's face clear in his hazy vision after he gets in a few hard blinks. the initial burn of irritation that has him clenching his jaw fades away , replaced with a feeling that's caught halfway between relief and embarrassment. the hand brushing at his temple slips down to rub his jaw , and he rolls his eyes — even in his drunken state he knows it's an affectionate action more than an irritated one — stepping further out into the hallway to join major where he's standing. " man , you scared the shit outta me , " he groans , even though they both likely know ' scared ' isn't the most appropriate word. naji has always been the type to come out fists swinging , and had it been an annoying stranger instead of the bassist , the conversation would've ended in a verbal or physical scuffle. tentatively , and after a minute of trying to make out the label , naji reaches out to take the gatorade from him. it's a sight for sore eyes , practically glistening under the party lights. " thanks , though — couldn’t pay me to touch that jungle juice. four loko was bad enough , maj. "

he shrugs as he twists the cap of the bottle off , hoping the words come off as nonchalant , but there’s an exhaustion somewhere in his voice. " was tryna hide out in the bathroom — " okay , he's chatty now , maybe that'll be a reminder to have fewer drinks next time. " — but clearly that isn't gonna work. know any good hiding places ? "

Sometimes throwing parties felt like being part of the babysitter’s club, or some shit – not that Major had ever babysat in his fuckin’ life! Nobody had ever been desperate enough to hand him a whole ass kid. He didn’t have enough family to make the whole, ‘little cousins running around the trailer park,’ thing a stereotype that applied. Major figured, though, that after seeing some of his bandmates lick down a drink or two, he might be able to put it on a resume. Major feats in daycare – who’d have  thought? 

“Yoooo, what’s all that noise?” His tone is false exasperation as soon as it leaves his lips – lightweight. Fun, and funny, and all that good shit: least he hoped that’s how it was all coming off. Major didn’t wanna overthink it, though; didn’t really wanna think on it at all! So he handed over the bottle of Gatorade he had in his baseball glove of a hand – the only unspiked shit he could fuckin’ find in the fray of the party. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, huh? I’m just out here lookin’ out for you, and shit, baby boy.” 

"You get into that Jungle Juice? Cuz, for the record - this is why I tell everyone to bring their own shit. Ain't no party like a rat loft party, because these guys don't give a fuck."