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love-toxin · 7 months

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jump - cha hyun-su

a/n: sweet home is giving me serotonin for midterm season u know i had to do it <3

(cws: gn pronouns, minor sweet home s1 spoilers, suicidal reader + suicide attempts, puking, failed OD, trauma bonding, mild lewd mentions, omg they were neighbors, dark meet cute)

wc: 3.2k

August 1 - 2020

1410 - Cha Hyun-su.

Otherwise known as your unofficial, non blood-related, possibly-separated-at-birth-twin. Why? Because for a year and a half, you've been living as the official Green Home recluse. Now a second recluse has moved in right down the hall.

“Maybe we dedicate the fourteenth floor to up-and-coming college dropouts now.” You've heard that spoken under the breath of neighbours in the lobby, heard variations of it giggled between nosy ladies that have gotten too old to call it gossip. If they're resorting to gossip about two residents who have turned hikikomori, they're wasting their breath. Not much goes on in your apartment that anybody would want to gossip about.

As for Hyun-su? You're not sure. Sometimes you hear the tinny sounds of gunfire through his metal door. Other than that, nothing. So he games and eats ramyeon, and that's it? If it is, it's a little surprising. He doesn't look the type at first glance. In fact, he looks like he'd fit in with the popular guys you went to highschool with. The bulk box of instant noodles he ordered lies askew in the hallway, which you suppress the urge to kick as you walk by.

Your stomach rumbles. Wish I had the money to order ramen in bulk. Your life's savings jingles pathetically in your pocket: a few won scattered amongst pocket lint. The flickering of the lights overhead should be enough of a cue that you've fallen far in life. This apartment complex is a shithole, and aside from the odd cigarette or two you can snag from the convenience store there's really not much you get joy out of at this point. Food, sex, music, it's all the same. At least touching yourself is free. Not for much longer if I don't come up with rent next week. You absentmindedly kick a crumpled ball of paper down the hall. Unlucky as ever, your sandal goes flying with it, and tumbles right through the door and down the steps before you hear it hit the landing.

“Son a bitch,” You sigh under your breath, and with a moment of hesitation you hop along on one leg. No way are you gonna touch that filthy floor with your bare foot. Each step you take with help from the railing, and by the wall at the end of the landing lies your abandoned shoe–lying on its side like a piece of trash someone couldn't be bothered to throw away. You hop forward and wiggle your foot back into it, toes first. “Home sweet home.” You sigh sarcastically. Each step downstairs after that feels just as dooming as the last.

August 8 - 2020

I think I might have to die soon.

The blue-white glow of your phone screen is all the light you've seen for days. You missed the rent payment. Your application for an extended due date was denied. You're getting kicked out at the end of the month.

Am I in hell already?

A frustrated huff escapes you. Your phone clatters as it hits the wall, but if it's broken or not, you don't care enough to get up and check. What's the point in writing out your feelings if you aren't gonna survive long enough to reflect on them?

You pull the covers higher over your head. I'm doomed. The world is over. You stick your hand out from beneath the warm covers to reach the dial of your CD player, and turn it. Click. No power. They cut off your electricity already.

You fall asleep to the sounds of silence and your own breathing under the smothering covers.

August…something.

You kneel hunched over your toilet, expunging every ounce of fluid and bile from the hellish depths of your stomach. You've been puking for over an hour but there's still stuff coming out. With a loose, loud grunt you bury your knuckles into your stomach in a swift thud, forcing out one last expulsion of acid and chunks of food you probably ate ten years ago in the process. With a heave of laboured breath you sit back and slump against the cold tile wall of your bathroom.

Bad idea. If you work up the courage to try this again, you're sure as shit never using pills for it after this. You swear you could feel each one as they came back up for vengeance, the burn in your throat harkening to the amount of dry-swallowing and gagging it took to get them in there. You'd rather just jump out the fucking window at this point. Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.

A pass over your face only smudges the tears drooling down it. This is seriously pathetic. Your sniffles echo off the grimy tile like the chimes of a bell, they sound far-off but they hurt your ears with the vibration. Everything hurts. Your chapped lips burn and your stomach aches with every clench around empty air.

Can I just die now? Am I allowed to die? Your knees hit your chest and you sob your questions out to nobody. Nobody's here and nobody cares. If you weren't a coward, you would've jumped already. You would've jumped two weeks ago when you knew you didn't have the money. You would've-

Ching ching. The doorbell. Ching ching. Right now? Seriously?

Ching ching. Ching ching. Ching ching.

“I'm coming,” You rub your tears dry with an aggressive touch and get one last sniffle out. A single splash of cold water on your face in the sink is all you have a chance to do. Fucking landlord, probably. Probably looking for one last chance to hassle you about the money. Nobody wants to move here, it's easier to keep a tenant than find a new one–or maybe he wants to kick you out early. If that's the case, it'd be the icing on the cake for this absolutely wretched excuse for a life you've ruined.

Ching ching. Ching ching. Without bothering to check the doorbell monitor on your way by, you head for the door and reach out to brush the handle. It's only by sheer coincidence that you pause, and in a moment of clarity, bow your head to peek through the peephole before you turn the handle.

“What the shit-” The rug trips you up as your steps hustle backward, a yelp escaping you as your back hits the floor and you scramble up to sit and stare back at the door in horror. Whatever that was, it…it wasn't…

You swallow dryly. Your hands feel numb. You flick your gaze from the door to the handle and back again, watching with intent fear as whatever it is that's outside keeps ringing the doorbell until it stops. That's the moment the world itself goes quiet.

“I…hear you…”

Your heart itself ceases its erratic beat in that moment. The grin curling up at the creature's dark lips is palpable in its voice. That head of exposed, honeycomb-like brains that you spied through the peephole comes alive in the squishy, spongy sounds that emanate from the other side of your front door.

Bang.

A bulb-like protrusion explodes out from the metal, leaving behind a deep indent that will forever mark the spot where the monster tried to get in. Bang. Bang. Two more in succession show up in the squealing steel of your door. It's trying to get in. It's not going to stop until it does.

“I hear you!!” It shrieks in tandem with your terrified screams. “I hear you! I hear you!!” The cackling of its cracked voice burns holes through your palms and into your eardrums, your hands not nearly enough to block out the horrendous screeching of metal on metal. In a bid of panic, you scramble to your feet and away from the bending frame of your door. Your toenails scrabble against the carpet and nearly catch on the loose threads as you close the distance to the window. You left it open to let the stuffy air out, but now it's an escape hatch. A way out. Your palms grip cool metal as you raise yourself up to the sill and crouch on it on the soles of your feet, perched like a bird pre-flight as you look out into the mid-morning sky and back to your battered front door.

This is it. This is the last chance you'll ever have to look out into the world you're leaving behind. The sky is clear today, oranges and light pinks streaking across the scattered clouds and dissipating more as the sun creeps into the air. The breeze tastes cool and crisp on your tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth that the glow casts over your trembling body. God, I don't wanna jump after all. I just want to look at this view for just a little longer.

Fresh tears chill themselves against your skin in the breeze, but your last, wishful peace is broken by a sudden clang. Like something brittle thudding against a solid surface. The sound draws your head sideways in an instant. The wind whips your hair away to frame your distraction in perfect view, hanging halfway out of his window two doors down.

He stares at you with brown eyes, once blank, now deep with urgency and fear. Hyun-su has a broken mop in hand that he's since stopped smacking against the wall once he's got your attention. He swallows and you watch his adam's apple bob in his throat.

Sorry, I've got to die right now. Those words that you feel brimming at your lips fall silent as Hyun-su motions to you. But you just stare with glossy eyes and a pained smile, because what can he do? There's a monster breaking down your front door, and the last hinge is barely holding on. You want to mouth the words “I'm sorry”, but he suddenly disappears.

It's only a moment before you hear the banging. Like a door swinging open and shut on its squeaky hinges, the shunk shunk shunk shunk resonates through the whole complex and just about vibrates you off the sill entirely. But you cling on this time because the thuds and squealing at your door are growing softer. Soon, the noises stop altogether as you hear a screech and the heavy pattering of the creature's footsteps leading away. In just as much time as it took to decide to throw yourself off the fourteenth floor, you've been left in peace again.

It takes about a half hour before you're ready to move from your perch, to step down on the freezing floor and brace your shaking legs by leaning against the wall. You keep checking all day to see if Hyun-su reappears. You don't see a thing, save for the sunset that marks the dusk of a day you didn't think you'd ever survive.

August ??? - 2020

If Hyun-su comes back, I'll sleep with him. On my life. Or I'll kill him. I haven't decided, honestly.

Your phone's battery is almost dead, and the screw that holds the hinge is so loose it's practically flopping all over the place. It's gone from a flip phone to a flop phone, realistically. Without the internet or cell service, all it's good for is a brick to hold your thoughts inside. Maybe it'll be all that's left of you once you're gone.

Is Hyun-su dead? That thought has been cycling round your head like it's circling a drain for about a day. The more you think about it, the more sure you are that he must've led the monster away to try and draw it from your door. The brain monster hasn't come back since, but neither has Hyun-su. You've tried everything from calling him to aiming a mirror out your window to get a glimpse into his apartment, but nothing. And if you knock on his door and he's not there, what will you do?

You've laid in bed awake all night, and with your stomach growling painfully you sit with your back against the mangled front door and wait. Your eyes shut at the tenth hour of the morning. Come back, Hyun-su. Please come back. Why'd you save me just to leave me alone again? You better not have died for me. The thoughts give you distraction for a while, as long as a while could feasibly last in these circumstances…

Shu-unk.

What the fucking hell was that?

Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.

You blink awake and stagger up to your feet in a rushed scramble. In the distance, just barely audible, is a soft voice echoing off the walls of the empty corridor.

“1412?” You're tempted to press your ear to the door to hear it closer, but the myriad of dents and fist-sized creases left protruding from it don't exactly leave a lot of space for you to listen. “1412?” The sound that had startled you awake, you now realize, is the sound of doors quietly being opened and closed. You're tempted to disbelieve, but the low coolness of that voice desperately makes you want to believe it's Hyun-su. And as terrified as you are of guessing wrong and paying your life's price for it, your fingers shakily clasp the door handle and it turns with a click. The squeals of metal make way for harsh scraping as the ill-fitting door fights the pressure of your body weight as you put everything you have into forcing it open.

It passes the threshold and swings open. You stagger into the corridor and catch yourself on the door frame, your fingers scraping dented steel from the pounding it took at the hands of that monster.

It is. It's him. That soft jawline and those big, brown eyes, the mane of fluffy hair and his unkempt clothes splattered with blood. He stands there lean and awkward in the hallway, lanky and ruffled and looking like he's been through a good bit of hell. His mop handle's got an upgrade but you don't care, really. You just feel a well of happiness surge up inside you that you figured had completely disappeared by now.

Hyun-su hurries up to you. When he gets close, he falters, however. His expression dims as he suddenly seems unsure of himself, and fidgets with the newly-crafted spear that suddenly seems too heavy in his hands.

“Are you okay?” He pants. “The monster-”

“You led it away.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “But you're okay, right?”

“Mh.” Your ears burn a little. This is my saviour, huh? So soft-spoken and meek? “Didn't get me at all. Thank you.”

He nods back, his scruffy locks forming a curtail around his neck as he does so. An awkward silence blankets the empty space. It's broken, however, by a deep gurgling in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you hungry?”

You lay a hand over your stomach as if your touch is going to make it stop rumbling. It's pretty humbling, to say the least–you hadn't realized how weak you'd become on two days without food. Hyun-su doesn't wait for an answer; he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something crinkly and wrapped in foil. It's still warm when he places it in your palm, yet his fingertips carry a chill as they graze your skin in the process.

“You should eat. We need to get going.”

“Where?” Hyun-su points down the corridor, and despite his urging you slip the candy bar into your pocket while you peek out where he's indicating. The door is busted-up and boasts a reinforced exterior from the many bumps and scrapes of a wheelchair coming in and out. You know it well. “1408? Where Mr. Han lives?”

He nods. “There's kids there, and some other people. I, um…I was going to come earlier, but they-”

“I get it.” For the first time in a long time, you crack a smile. “Had to go play hero again, huh?” If he was willing to drive away a monster from a stranger's door by using himself as bait, you can only imagine what he must have gone through to save some poor kids in peril.

“N-No, I-”

“You're a good guy.” You pat him on the chest. “I don't know why a good guy like you came to live in a place like Green Home, but I'm glad you're here.” Hyun-su looks down on you with a raised brow, but his surprise melts slowly into gratitude as he adjusts to your playful jabs. There's not many other ways for you to cope in an absolutely bizarre situation as this.

“...I'm glad, too.”

“Yeah?”

Hyun-su tilts his head down. He's a little hesitant on meeting your eyes, even though you owe him so much. “I'm…glad you didn't jump.”

“Me too.” The sentiment slips out of you so easily. When did that happen? Wanting to live? “I'd be a pretty shitty damsel if I threw away my life after you saved it.”

In the wake of another, now less-awkward silence, you stroll ahead of him towards Mr. Han's apartment. You only glance over your shoulder to make sure he's following, and to quietly reassure yourself that he hasn't disappeared again. When you do, that's when he hustles along to catch up, the smallest of smiles peaking his lips.

“If..”

You turn to look at him beside you. You can't help but pay him your full attention when he speaks–he does it so little, and he's so quiet, you fear you might miss what he says.

“If you feel like you want to jump again..” He extends his hand out to you. Despite the callouses on his long, lithe fingers, his palm looks soft and even…inviting, in some strangely enticing way. “..You can hold my hand. I'll keep you from falling.”

“Oh.” Your feet halt in their tracks. The air feels a bit heavier than it did before–but only in the space that separates you from Hyun-su. His hand lingers there, and beneath the cuff of his sweater's sleeve you spot for the first time those scars. Cuts, slashes, deep and intentional down the length of his tanned skin. Intersecting lines that point towards a past of hurt and harm.

So you and I are the same. Have you now, finally, come to that thought that Hyun-su had when he saw you ready to jump out your window?

“...Yeah.”

You place your palm delicately over his. Your fingers slide together like ivy on a window. They clasp into each other, squeezing like the grip of a latch on a closed door. And you feel at peace for real this time, because from this moment on you won't ever get near a ledge again–not to take a step off, at least. But maybe to see another sunset if you manage to survive that long. A smile perks at your mouth at the thought. God, I hope so.

“Let's hang in there together. Promise.” You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes yours back. The two of you make your way towards the apartment. And when this door opens, it'll close behind you for good.

#sweet home #cha hyun su #cha hyun su x reader #hyun su x reader #gn reader #ellie writes #3k

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ckret2 · 7 months

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i know you’ve talked about bill’s music tastes before, but do you have any head cannons for other characters’ music tastes?

i.e. do you think mabel would listen to vocaloid?

Mabel: here's what we know about her tastes.

She loves Dream Boy High; Dream Boy High's VCR tape design has nods to Jem & the Holograms, which has a million songs per episodes; Mabel has Xyler & Craz play synth music to defeat Bill; Mabeland plays 80's music. She's into extremely 80's-sounding synth-heavy pop. The music she plays in dream realms is the music closest to her heart. This is the core of her musical tastes.

There's something subtly, inexplicably different about music made for cartoons vs contemporary popular music, even when they're trying to portray the same genres. I can't describe what that quality is, but it's there. Anyway, if the core of Mabel's musical tastes is rooted in or near Dream Boy High, then she probably listens to other 80s cartoon soundtracks.

She's into 2010s acts that are throwbacks to late-1990s boy bands. She'd probably also like actual 90s boy bands.

She's fluent in modern top 40 music—which is no doubt where she she picked up Sev'ral Timez. I see her as the kind of kid who just keeps the radio on all the time. (And I do mean the radio—she didn't get a phone til the end of last summer, we see her with CDs, she probably had a radio long before she tried streaming.)

She's also fluent in classic rock ballads, but it's not her preference. She's a "grew up listening to the radio stations her parents picked on a car ride" kid. I suspect her dad plays 70s/80s pop in the car (cementing her primary musical tastes) because there's another Pines into synth pop so I've decided it's genetic, and her mom plays the classic rock. Mabel knows Don't Start Unbelieving from Mabel & Mom karaoke nights.

Dipper: if Mabel grew up listening to her parents' picks on the car radio, so did he. This is where he picked up his love for BABBA. From this we can deduce that, if their dad is the 70s/80s pop music parent, their dad probably drives them around more than their mom. I think you could safely give him other disco bands as well.

He plays the sousaphone but every band kid I've ever known treats band more like a musical sport than like a musical genre—the super passionate ones might practice extra and might watch other bands' performances, but they didn't just sit around listening to marching band music for fun. However, he also practices during the summer, even though he's in another state and obviously not participating in any summer band activities, which suggests an unusual passion for marching band. I still don't think he just listens to marching band music for fun but he probably keeps hearing songs and going "oh wow I've never heard the original before, only the band version."

He picked up a couple of indie folk bands to try to impress Wendy but he's not super into them.

Ford: He was on the absolute cutting edge of new wave & synth pop in the 80s. He was into the obscure stuff. Somewhere in the shack is a pile of cassettes by new wave acts the rest of the world has completely forgotten. He and Mabel trade music recommendations: he gives her the obscure as hell stuff and she tells him about all the cool new* (*post-1982) bands he never got to see. Mabel prefers peppier songs and he prefers moodier songs but there's a HUGE overlap between their tastes.

In a better, portal-less world, Ford's taste in new wave would have had time to drift into dark wave and cold wave, and from there slid over sideways to discover goth rock. There's an unhatched trad goth somewhere in his soul. He should have been listening to Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, and The Cure. He should have gotten a black trench coat because he thought it would make him feel cool, not because he was an interdimensional criminal on the run. It's not too late for him to discover it now, but by now he should have made it miles beyond the major 80s goth rock acts, gone down half a dozen increasingly obscure genre alleys, and be burrowed deep into some weird sub-sub-sub-genre of EBM you and I have never heard of.

He has a love/hate relationship with All Star.

Stan: He liked hanging out at a 50s-themed diner in the 70s. He likes 50s music. I also think he picked up a fair amount of Spanish-language 50s rock-and-roll while abroad. Once like five years ago Soos overheard Stan playing a record and singing a song Abuelita plays and it cemented his ambition to reverse-adopt Stan as his dad.

Soos: Popular hip hop and anime/video game soundtracks. Every rap song he knows has been on the Billboard Hot 100 but on the other hand he has the demo version of the extended version of the ending theme of an anime from 2001 that was never fully released outside Japan and he's probably got a fifteen-minute story about why he knows this song even exists. He's puzzled through the shipping info of a Japanese CD website to get the official soundtrack of the most dogshit anime you could imagine. He's spent a week pouring through anime convention forums trying to track down a song he overheard someone use as their background music at a cosplay contest. Lots of 8-bit.

Wendy: You know the stomp clap hey genre? That. I have nothing further to add, you know what I'm talking about. Her heart yearns to escape to hipster city. She didn't even like Robbie's music when they were dating, she just thought it was cool he made it.

I'm not gonna go through every character I have headcanons for, you don't need all that on one post. Anyway, have a work in progress playlist. It's rigorously organized. "😀😀😀 Character Name 😀😀😀" is what each character would like listening to, "😀 Zodiac Symbol 😀" is songs about each character, "🪐🪐🪐 Flatland 🪐🪐🪐" is backstory stuff, "🌎 Earth 🌎" is either songs I need on this playlist for the vibes or songs that belong in one of the other categories but I haven't sorted them yet. Some of the sections are still empty. I think this is forgivable since the playlist is already 11 hours long.

#anonymous #ask #gravity falls #headcanons #music

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lgihtspeed · 3 months

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SONG OF THE SUMMER — THE DEBUT EP

SONG OF THE SUMMER is the debut EP of fictional pop group LIGHTSPEED. It was released physically and digitally on JUNE 20, 2024 by C ENTERTAINMENT. The group promoted title track LEFT RIGHT for four weeks: two weeks on Korean music shows and two weeks on American television. Their American promotions were followed by live shows in a few of the cities the members are from, including Los Angeles, New York City, and Calgary.

The album covers were designed by ASH. The physical release comes in three versions: SUN, MOON, and STAR.

They also released six member versions of CD-only jewel cases. Shortly after the album’s initial print, they released a limited-edition vinyl, all of which were signed by one or more members.

TRACKLIST

TRACK 001. LEFT RIGHT Written by Ash Jang, Constance Im, Ev Sharpe, LABYRYNTH Composed by LABYRYNTH Arranged by LABYRYNTH

TRACK 002. GOT IT LIKE THAT Written by Ash Jang, Seo Sejun, LABYRYNTH Composed by LABYRYNTH Arranged by LABYRYNTH

TRACK 003. HAMSTERBOY Written by Constance Im, RHYTHMAGIC Composed by RHYTHMAGIC Arranged by RHYTHMAGIC

TRACK 004. BUZZING MELODIES Written by Seo Sejun, Constance Im, Ash Jang Composed by RHYTHMAGIC Arranged by RHYTHMAGIC

With lyrics entirely in English, most of the songwriting is done by the group members rather than their Korean producers. CONSTANCE and ASH quickly emerged as the group's most prolific songwriters. Production was done by C Entertainment’s new in-house producer duo RHYTHMAGIC and by elusive producer LABYRYNTH, best known for his work with Lightspeed’s label mate, SEJUN. To fans’ surprise, Sejun also made a few appearances as a lyricist, keeping with his tendencies to write songs for everyone except himself.

STATS

13:01 — TOTAL RUNTIME

20M — MV VIEWS IN 24 HOURS

90 — BILLBOARD HOT 100 PEAK

8 — THEMED DANCE PRACTICES

LOOK BOOK

The era’s styling was entirely in shades of black and white and gray. The outfits were inspired by TECHWEAR—coincidentally one of the many themed dance practices—as well as the CYBERCORE and Y2K FUTURISM aesthetics.

HIGHLIGHTS

They were clowned to hell and back for the album title. They also made a disgusting number of “Did I just write the song of the summer?” TikToks, which did not help their case. The only one that went viral was the one of Ev deadpanning the script alongside his signature stiff peace sign ending fairy pose.

The music was well-received and that made the title slightly less egregious. Then Tyler and Mia went on the record and said they didn’t like it and everyone went back to clowning it.

The division between the people with more media training (Violet and Mia) and the people with less media training (everyone else) became obvious very early on.

There were three not-quite-but-almost-there PR disasters. The first happened not long after their debut: Tyler finally deactivated his controversial Twitter account. He probably should have stopped tweeting after he passed the first IGNITE! audition but he didn’t. The fan response was split between those who supported this decision, because idols shouldn’t be tweeting shit about their peers, and those who thought maybe it’s time an idol got to talk his shit. Three days after his account was deactivated, it was reactivated again, causing, in the nicest way possible, a shitstorm on Luminosity Twitter. C Entertainment finally did a bit of damage control by releasing a statement saying that multiple people had access to the account, which no one believed.

The second one occurred during a DIY karaoke livestream where Constance was taking song suggestions from the audience and someone asked for a boy group song. She singled out the commenter, and took a leaf out of Violet’s book by responding she “couldn’t care less about boy groups” and anyway, the people in her stream should just “listen to Lightspeed instead of men.” Never mind that there are men in Lightspeed.

The third and final close call happened in an off-handed comment Ash made. While they were discussing their favorite and least favorite moments from IGNITE!, he remarked about how poor of a representation their profile pictures were. Having recently re-edited and posted his pictures to Instagram, he had to keep going and mention that ever since he graduated from college, he doesn’t have access to legal Adobe products. Everyone else sat in silence after he revealed that until Violet forced the conversation to move along.

They filmed a dorm tour that went viral because their dorm is a house. With six bedrooms and two kitchens and a second floor. In Seoul.

Between the two centers, Mia was clearly the favored one. She was the center of every chorus and the center of every OT6 photo and styled slightly differently from the rest of the group.

Ev’s songwriting credit on “Left Right” came from a competition the group members minus Ash and Constance held to write the second verse of the song. To almost everyone’s surprise, Ev won. He was the only person unsurprised, revealing that his university major prior to IGNITE! was English Literature.

The “Left Right” line distribution was surprisingly bad. Constance, Mia, and Tyler sang most of the song, and the rest of them were left with crumbs. #LetEvSing trended on Twitter after their album release, especially because he wrote part of the song.

SHIP RANKINGS

ASH X TYLER (ASHLER) — One of the most popular ships from IGNITE! for their past friendship. Every single publicly available pre-IGNITE! interaction—all five of them—are also subject to intense scrutinization. Haters will say they can't possibly be dating because they dap each other up too much.

MIA X TYLER (MYLER) — The two centers! They were paired together for everything. Their shared dance break in a “Left Right” special performance had a ridiculous amount of chemistry, and then they covered Trouble Maker’s “Trouble Maker.” Absolutely no moving on from that.

CONSTANCE X MIA (CONIA) — According to their shippers, Constance doesn’t look at the Mia in the same way she looks at everyone else. The evidence is in clips of the two of them making eye contact slowed down to 0.5x speed. Also, they were roommates for the entire last half of IGNITE! (Oh my god, they were roommates.)

ASH X CONSTANCE (ASHSTANCE) — They wrote almost every song together, but more importantly, in vlogs showing off the time they spent in New York, the two of them sat next to each other in every restaurant they ate at. Their alternate ship name is Cash.

TYLER X VIOLET (TYLET) — Similar to the above pairing, Tyler acts in a noticeably different way with Violet than everyone else. He’s usually easygoing and quick to laugh with everyone else—especially Mia—but he froze up in all of the one solo conversation he had on camera with Violet. Which is clearly enough to make a ship.

#AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT — DISCOGRAPHY.#AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT — DEVELOPMENT.#fictional idol community #kpop addition #idol oc #kpop au #kpop oc

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sunniedesi · 7 months

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Future Diary Radio TL

Here’s the (long time coming) update on the Future Diary Radio CDs! I’m sorry it took so long to finish this project, as always, school has me on a chokehold, but I’m glad to say the translations are finally done! In case you missed the original post, the Future Diary Radio CDs are an obscure piece of media from Future Diary that include commentary from some of the show’s voice actors, regarding their experiences voicing the characters and opinions about the series. You can now find the three tracks with the translated subtitles on my Youtube channel (daisynilla) or on the links down below. Special thanks to @iwanpepsu, @syrpai and @the-chosen-blood-teller for helping me gather the tracks from the radio CDs.

youtube

And on a semi-related note, I also wanted to use this post to comment on a couple of things that came up while doing research for this project.

1. In all of the three Radio CDs, the voice actors mention something about a live concert that happened at Shibuya AX on July 29th. I'm not sure how well-known this concert and the music featured in it are among the fandom, but given how much it is talked about in the radio CDs (and how much information I gathered on it incidentally), I figure I should make a separate post dedicated to that. Especially because of… this:

2. On one of the Radio CDs, there was a mention of the DVD cast commentaries done by the Japanese voice actors. I don't own the DVD, but I was accidentally sent the audio for these Japanese cast commentaries in response to my last post about the Radio CDs. For my sanity’s sake, I’m not translating this, (I feel like the radio CDs are a good enough stand-in for the cast commentaries) but given its mention, I wanted to provide some of the context surrounding it. Like your regular cast commentaries on any DVD’s bonus features, the voice actors share their comments of the show as they watch the episodes. The order of the voice actors featured in each episode goes as follows:

Episodes 1-2: feature commentary from Misuzu Togashi (Yukki’s VA) and Tomosa Murata (Yuno’s VA).

Episodes 3-5: Aizawa Mai (Minene’s VA, ps her voice is so high it caught me off guard), Kawahara Yoshihisa (12th’s VA) and Sendai Eri (Tsubaki’s VA).

Episodes 6-8: Sanada Asami (Reisuke’s VA) and Mizuhara Kaoru (Rea’s VA).

Episodes 9-11: Ishida Akira (Akise’s VA), Matsuoka Yuki (Hinata’s VA) and Hiramatsu Hirokazu (10th’s VA).

Episodes 12-14: Ishii Makoto (Nishijima’s VA) and Tanaka Masahiko (Kurusu’s VA).

Episodes 15-17: Seki Tomokazu (Marco’s VA) and Kuwatani Natsuko (Ai’s VA).

Episodes 18-20: Yukana (Mao’s VA) and Shiraishi Minoru (Kousaka’s VA).

Episodes 21-23: Inada Tetsu (Ryuji’s VA, aka 11th’s secretary) and Konno Hiromi (8th’s VA).

Episodes 24-26: Domon Jin (3rd’s VA) and Honda Manami (MurMur’s VA).

(Also, I'm pretty sure the English version of the DVD includes cast commentaries too, but I don't know if those are the Japanese cast commentaries with translated subtitles or if it's commentary from the American cast… probably the latter, but I guess I’ll have to look a little deeper into that.)

#future diary #mirai nikki #sakae esuno #the future diary #yuno gasai #anime #yandere #radio CD #cast commentaries #voice acting #anime voice acting

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mama-qwerty · 4 months

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Stolen Opportunity

So this is kind of a continuation of Signing Off. Inspired by an idea @quazart had, where Wade dies during an attack from some big bad, and Knuckles had a hard time dealing with it. Naturally I want to torture explore how Callie would deal with the death of Wade, so here we are.

For the sake of simplicity, she does not have Silver or Eclipse in this verse.

~~~

Callie stared at the larger envelope nestled in with her credit card bills and junk mail as she kicked the front door closed with her foot. It was one of those thick manilla-ish ones, with the cushioning inside. The words “DO NOT BEND” were stamped in red ink on the front, right between her address and the stamp. Her eyes moved to the return address, even though they didn’t need to. She recognized the handwriting.

It was from Wade. Sent two days before he died, if the postmark was anything to go by.

Why had it taken over a week to get to her? Green Hills wasn’t exactly a huge metropolis, it shouldn’t have taken so long.

She shook her head. Didn’t matter. It’s not like Wade would have complained to the post office had he known. That’s just not the guy he was. He didn’t complain, even when he should. Always tried to see the good in others. Tried to be friends with everyone.

Even those who were closed off. And had been for years. Who thought they didn’t need anyone, were fine in their self-isolation. Who was sure, 100% positive she didn’t want any friends.

Somehow, he’d managed to get her walls down. And they’d become friends. Best friends, even.

And now he was gone.

nope not thinking about this nuh uh

She turned, heading to the kitchen to put her few groceries away. She tossed the mail on the island, doing her best to ignore that envelope. It was probably another of his Jammerz CDs. Who sends that stuff in the mail these days? Just a waste of a stamp, honestly. He could just send a link through email or something. She’d asked him about it when she’d received the last CD, and he’d simply shrugged and said “Isn’t it nice to get a good surprise in the mail instead of just bills and junk?”

A little smile curled her lips. A good surprise. Wade always had a knack for surprising her. Saying something or doing something completely unexpected to make her laugh or smile.

Like giving his life to save a little fox boy. To save his town.

The smile dropped.

stop it stop it stop it

Callie slammed the fridge door shut and grabbed the rest of the mail from the counter. The CD envelope fell to the floor, and she pointedly ignored it as she tossed the junk mail in the trash and tucked the bill statements into the caddy on her desk. She’d have to do some bill paying soon.

A sound behind her, and she turned to see Bloom scratching at the envelope on the floor.

“Bloom!” she hissed, drawing a head tilt from the tuxedo cat. Callie moved over, shooing the cat away and retrieving the envelope. She stared at the return address for a moment, before tossing it on the island.

don’t think about it, don’t think about him, think of something else

Bill paying. Right. No time like the present.

The redhead sat herself at her desk, booting up her laptop. Out of habit she opened her email, deleting the junk and checking the important things. She skimmed the emails, her eyes coming to a sudden stop at a read one nestled in between one from her mortgage company and a monthly newsletter.

wadewrockz20@. . . Subj: Something to cheer you up!

Her throat tightened.

Her hand moved without her permission, clicking the email open. Inside was a short cat video, a little orange tabby meowing loudly and angrily at a closed door, only to drop to a sweeter little meow once his owner came closer.

Below this, Wade had written:

“Reminds me of you! Fierce and scary, but sweet and kind. Hope your day gets better! :)”

The video played on a loop as she read and reread those three short sentences. He’d sent it two days before he died, probably right after he mailed the CD. That had been a bad day for her—just one of those days when everyone seemed in a bad mood and taking it out on her. She’d vented to Wade about it, and less than 15 minutes later she’d gotten that email. And she had to admit, it had lifted her mood.

He was good at that. Making her feel better. Lifting her spirits. Making her laugh.

But she wasn’t laughing now.

With a grunt, she clicked off the email, slamming the laptop closed.

A lump had formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down.

She wasn’t going to cry. Wouldn’t allow herself. Even after the memorial service she’d thrown herself back into work. Focused on taking care of others—the Wachowskis, specifically. Wade was a friend to her, but like family to them.

She’d dealt with loss before. Had someone ripped away from her. She was used to this kind of pain. It was familiar.

And she was used to being alone. She’d been alone for a long time before she even met Wade, so it wasn’t like their lives had been so intricately entwined that she didn’t know how to function now that he was gone.

Besides, crying wasn’t going to bring him back. Falling to pieces wouldn’t change what happened. Life moved on, and she just trudged along with it.

Maddie thought she was in denial. She really wasn’t. She knew Wade was gone. Didn’t delude herself into thinking he wasn’t. She accepted it.

avoiding it, you mean

Her lips pulled tight. She wasn’t avoiding anything.

you’re avoiding it, doing everything you can to simply not think about anything that had to do with him

She let out a huff. Glanced back at the envelope on the island.

“Fine,” she said to no one. She got up and walked to the counter, snatching the envelope up. “This is me, not avoiding it.”

Callie tore open the envelope, and pulled the CD out. The label on the front was decorated in Wade’s doodles and stylized letters, titling the disc as “CalJammerz03”.

The corner of her lip pulled up in a little smile as she slid the CD into her stereo and clicked ‘Play’. A soft whirring as the disc spun, and then the track number appeared in the display.

“Hey, Cal!”

Wade’s voice rang clear and steady through her speakers, and her eyes went wide. He’d never recorded anything on her previous CDs.

"Welcome to another Jammerz CD, with songs I picked specially for you! Some are ones I think you’ll like, and others are ones that just remind me of you. Betcha can’t tell which is which, haha!”

A knot appeared in Callie’s chest, tightening painfully behind her ribs.

“Hey, uh, while I’m at it, there’s something I wanna ask ya. We both know I'll never have the guts to say this to you in person, warrior-in-training or not, amiright? But . . . I really like you. Like, ya know, like you like you. Gah, that sounds so dumb! But you’re so sweet and funny and I'd really like to, ya know, go out sometime. If that's something you'd want. I mean, no pressure. Totally okay if you don’t! Anyway, on to the tunes!"

A guitar riff with a heavy drum beat began, and filled her house with music.

She barely heard it.

She stared at the stereo, hand hovering over the back button. With a quick jab the music cut off, and Wade’s voice greeted her again.

“. . . I really like you . . .”

“. . . I’d really like to, ya know, go out sometime.”

The music was back, blaring out an upbeat tempo that ordinarily may have made her want to move or sing along to it.

But instead she just stared.

The knot in her chest shifted as his words echoed in her ears.

“. . . you’re so sweet and funny . . .”

She swallowed. Hard.

Thirsty. She was thirsty. She needed a drink.

Turning abruptly, Callie hurried to the fridge. She yanked the door open with a jerk, rattling the condiments on the door. Grabbing a bottle of water, she moved to close the door when another bottle caught her eye.

Beer. Wade’s favorite brand. She usually kept a six pack on hand for when he stopped by in the evenings, and the two of them would sit on her deck and chat. He with a beer, she with her wine cooler.

She stood there and stared at the bottle, this drink that would go to waste now that he was gone. She didn’t like the taste, and Tom preferred a different brand. There were four other bottles behind the first—he’d only had one out of the latest pack she’d bought.

When was that? Three days before he died. He’d stopped by after work, and they’d sat on her deck until nearly ten o’clock.

Just chatting.

Sharing time together.

Enjoying each other’s company.

Callie set the water bottle on the counter next to the fridge, and reached in for the beer. She pulled it out, watching as the liquid inside sloshed against the glass, a thin line of fizz floating to the top.

A little smile tugged at her lips. Wade could never open a beer without it spilling. No matter how careful he tried to be, he always had a foamy little waterfall flowing over his fingers. He’d gasp, before laughing and saying “Every time!”

And she would laugh, too. She laughed so much when he was around. He just had that affect on her. No matter how grumpy or sad or otherwise blah she felt, he knew just how to make her smile. Make her laugh. Make her feel alive.

The smile faded.

He’d never drink a beer again. She’d never watch him spill it on himself again. He’d never stop by after work just to chat, or to check in to see if she needed anything again.

The current song ended, and a new one started. The familiar guitar beats at the start told her it was Since U Been Gone.

As the first verse flowed over her, the words finding no purchase in her mind, Callie looked at the bottle in her hand. Ran her thumb over the label.

It was here, but Wade was not. This stupid bottle of alcohol was here, but Wade, the kind, funny, sweet, gentle soul of a man was not.

It wasn’t fair.

What kind of universe allows someone as good-hearted as Wade to die? He was kind to all, even those who were unkind to him. He was good and pure and sweet and liked her damnit he liked her and there could have been more between them if she had gotten this damned CD earlier or made the first move herself if she weren’t so goddamned scared of letting herself feel!

The music ramped up as the chorus began, and Callie snapped.

She pushed out a scream, one full of anger and rage and fury and grief and regret. She screamed at the bottle in her hand before turning and hurling it across the room, where it smashed against the far wall. One by one she threw the remaining bottles of beer, relishing the satisfying crash of breaking glass.

Her wine coolers went next, sending a multi-colored splatter pattern over her walls.

Looking back in the fridge, she saw the jar of pickles—bought for Wade, for when she invited him over for burgers. She didn’t like pickles. No sense keeping those! Another crash and the brine joined the alcohol already coating her walls, a few pickle slices stuck to the mess.

She slammed the fridge shut, and moved to the cabinet next to it. If Wade stopped by before work, there were two mugs from her stash he favored. She pulled those out and threw them as hard as she could against the ever growing mess of her wall.

On and on she went, smashing and destroying anything and everything that Wade had used, or that reminded her of him. He was gone, gone, never coming back, and she did not want these things staring her in the face for the rest of time. Reminding her of what she couldn’t have, or what could have been.

The music played on, acting as the soundtrack for the release of her anger. Her grief. Sometimes she screamed. Sometimes she belted out the lyrics at the top of her voice. Sometimes she just growled as she destroyed.

But she did not cry.

Her phone rang, and Maddie’s contact photo appeared.

Wade would never call her again. Her last text to him would go unanswered.

She chucked the phone across the room, laughing as it smashed into the TV, cracking both of the screens.

And still her anger raged.

~X~X~X~

Maddie put her phone down, a troubled expression crossing her face.

Callie wasn’t answering. She hadn’t answered for days. “It’s just been busy,” the librarian had said once Maddie had managed to catch her at the library yesterday. A reasonable answer, Maddie supposed, but she wasn’t convinced. The redhead looked worn. Distant. Brushed off every query about her wellbeing.

Maddie was worried about her. But something else took priority.

She stood on the deck now, looking out over her backyard, watching the fireflies flicker to life. Knuckles had run off hours ago. He wasn’t dealing well with Wade’s death, but refused to talk about it. Refused to talk at all. She knew he was trying to be strong, but she’d seen the red eyes. The damp muzzle.

And he’d been inseparable from the discman Wade had given him. Sonic had found it out on the front walk, broken, and Tails was working on it right now, trying to repair it. Maddie had no doubt he would—that fox could fix anything—but right now she wasn’t worried about some CD player. She was worried about her eldest son.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Knuckles shambled out of the dark forest, looking disheveled and tired. Maddie hurried over, stopping before him and going to one knee.

“There you are,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Are you okay?”

He gave a curt nod, refusing to look at her.

“Do you feel any better?”

A pause. He pulled his lips tight. A shake of the head.

“Tails is working on fixing your CD player.”

He jerked his head to her, his eyes pleading. “The CD, was it . . .”

“It was okay,” she said, and he let out a breath in relief. “Not even a scratch. Sonic tried it in his stereo and it worked fine.”

“Good,” he said, and his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “That is good.”

Silence descended over them, and the only sound in the backyard were the crickets surrounding them. He cast his eyes away from her, his brow furrowed in sorrow.

Maddie wanted to reach forward and take all his grief away, but knew it impossible. She hadn’t been as close to Wade as Knuckles had been. None of them were, not even Tom. This boy was going through something the rest of them couldn’t understand. The loss of someone so important to you, so close to you, you felt like a piece of yourself were missing.

Knuckles was having a hard time dealing with it, and he wouldn’t talk to any of the family about it.

But maybe he would talk to someone who was going through the same thing.

“Honey, are you up for a quest?”

He turned back to her, an eyebrow raised. “What sort of quest?”

“Callie isn’t answering her phone and I’m a little worried about her. Do you think you could go over and check on her? Just to make sure she’s okay?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding and standing taller. “I will check on her.”

She smiled. “Good boy. Thank you.”

Knuckles nodded again, and hurried off in the direction of Mockingbird Lane.

Maddie watched him go, hoping that they could help each other heal, if only the smallest bit.

~X~X~X~

Knuckles emerged from the dark trees at Callie’s house, eyebrow cocked at how dark the house seemed. Normally the librarian left a light on over her deck, or sat outside to watch the stars on nice nights. Tonight neither was the case.

Curious, he moved closer, climbing the deck steps and peering in through the glass kitchen door. A few lights burned inside, but something was wrong. What he could see of the interior of the house was a mess, destruction strewn across the kitchen and living rooms. He gasped, yanking the kitchen door open and hurrying in.

He skidded to a stop just inside the door. Callie sat with her back against the end of the island, her knees drawn up and hands limp by her sides. Her glasses were gone, and a quick scan around her found them on the floor a few feet away. The signature braid she always wore was loose, and her hair hung like a curtain around her face.

She breathed heavy, as though after an intense workout. Music was playing, some song he didn’t recognize.

Knuckles took a step closer, and the woman turned her head toward him, her face exhausted and haunted.

They stared at each other for a moment, as the song ended. There was a soft whirring as the CD returned to the beginning of the disc.

“Hey, Cal!”

Knuckles jerked, snapping his head toward the living room.

The echidna turned back to Callie, who looked away, bringing her hands up to press the heels against her eyes.

A song began, another Knuckles didn’t know, and he watched Callie’s reaction. She took a deep breath. And another. And then she spoke, her voice small and cracked and broken.

“I would have said yes.”

A soft whine left her throat, and she spoke again, her voice edge with grief.

“I would have said yes.”

A sob, one that was deep and full of pain.

“I would have said yes!”

She kept repeating the words, with more sobs mixed in. Soon the sobs overpowered the words, and she curled in on herself, looking like a child drowning in grief.

Knuckles watched her for a moment, his own sorrow knotting within his chest. He watched as Callie cried, missing the man that had meant so much to them both.

Without a word, Knuckles moved closer to her, swallowing hard as her sobs awoke his own grief. He went to a knee next to her, and wrapped his arms around her as well as he could. He squeezed, resting his forehead against her temple in an attempt to offer comfort.

At first she didn’t seem to realize he was there, but she soon uncurled, looking over at him. They shared a look for a moment, before Callie reached for him, and pulled him into her lap in a tight hug. Knuckles didn’t hesitate as he wrapped her arms around her, tucking his nose into the crook of her neck as his own tears fell once more.

The two stayed like that for a long while, holding each other as their shared grief washed over them. Sometimes Callie would cry, and Knuckles would hold her tight. Other times Knuckles would cry, and Callie would rock him gently. And then they would both cry, squeezing each other as though they were the only thing keeping them both from falling apart.

The music continued to play, and the two continued to hold each other. There would be many more tears shed between them, and it would take a long time before it stopped hurting, but for now, they shared their grief, and sought comfort together.

#callie macpherson #knuckles the echidna #maddie wachowski

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embersoftheorder · 1 month

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DWC - August - Day 3 - Journey/Fatality

Light dappled through the spread hand, the noonday sun shining bright and warm despite the forever autumn chill of Drustvar. Rachel's skin would prickle from the cold breeze off the mountains, but the warm body beside her made her feel all the better as she snuggled deeper into the broad chest. There was a rumble of a chuckle as the hand would lower back down to wrap about her.

"Easy there, love, yer cold as ice," the voice deep and baritone, the perfect pitch of a man of good salt and iron. She smiled into the hair chest, her eyes closing as she breathed in his scent. Rum, iron, cigars, and fry. She loved it all.

"Why else ya think I can't keep my hands off ya? Sides, yer the one who tossed my clothes far off Mister Dewitt," she cooed into his skin as he planted a few kiss among the dark strands that mixed with her own blonde. She could feel another rumbling laugh from him as he held her closer to him.

"Only cause ya loosed my own trousers, Mrs Dewitt" Christoph Dewitt replied back to her as he rubbed his rough calosed hands across the map of her life that dappled her back and arms. His fingers would gently trace the intricate tattoo between her shoulders depicting the Tidemother, patron of all people of the island. "Tides woman, ya got such a lovely canvas."

Rachel would look up from the nook she'd be hiding in to study his broad face, the walrus mustache doing nothing to hide his warm smile. The bald head also kept it clear to see Christoph's warmth of his eyes just the same light as his smile. She loved this man. More than words could say, her hand gently reaching up to tug softly on the right wing of his fine stache.

"Ouch," he whispered in fake pain as he feigned it further with a fake frown. "What was that for?"

"Making sure you were still real," Rachel whispered, leaning her head back to look up at him again. She could see the heart tattoo over on the top of her right hand bearing the large designed 'CD' in the middle of it. His own large left could come to cup hers, showing his matching heart with an 'RD'. He would draw her hand up and kiss the heart on her hand as he spoke softly.

"Don't go losing my heart now, love."

"Never."

He would smile still and nod. "Time to wake up."

The loud banging jolted her awake, eyes blinking back in the dark as she laid in the bed. She was alone. She hated waking up alone.

Another bang to her door received a groan of an answer from her as she laid her hands over eyes a moment, her mind drifting back to the dream as she whispered. "Tides just give me five more minutes."

"Witt, wake up." The voice was familiar and grim, it had to be Candell. It was always Candell at these hours.

A growl rumbled from her as she called back to the door. "Candell, do you not sleep?"

Like a pair of onry dogs, the old witch hunter would growl back. "It's nine o'clock."

Rachel would sigh again as she pulled her arms up to rest against her head, her right hand raising as it had in the dream to stare at it in the warm dark. 'CD' staring right back at her, his heart always with her. It was darker now, a bit faded with time but it was always there. And always would be. 'Time to wake up'.

Dewitt would sigh as she began to rise, her body aching from sleeping too long and probably too much of the green bottle on her nightstand. She would run her hands over her frame, an old habit of checking she was still all in one piece. Rubbing at her face again she would call to the inquisitor at her door. "IS there something pressing this morning?"

There was a long pause as the door did not answer her. Her weary face already souring into a grimace as she waited for him to say something, eventually snapping out at it. "Well out with it, damn it."

"We got another one."

A deep breath was drawn in through her nose as he said the words. She should have known. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

"I'll get the coffee." And she knew he was gone.

@daily-writing-challenge

#augustdwc2024 #augustday32024 #embersoftheorder #rachel dewitt #journey #fatality #the captain #order of embers #wyrmrest accord #moon guard #roleplay

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moonsidesong · 18 days

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just caught up with Your Turn To Die and absolutely adored it the whole way through. it goes unbelievably hard. calling it Danganronpa But Good feels like an insult. but like... yeah what if danganronpa was good? or rather. game that makes me wish danganronpa was good.

it really keeps you on your toes the Entire time, which is why i ended up saving like......... every five to ten minutes, most times. i would say the only slower part is the minigames during chapter 2? but, i thought those were fun, and they were still broken up by plot important stuff, so i really didnt mind.

ive heard the game had a soundtrack release on CD a few years ago, but i cant seem to find much information about it? much less any resell listings. how sad... i love cd...

i wanna talk more in depth from here on out so spoilers under the cut! warning thoughts very disjointed. and i havent seen absolutely Everything the game has to offer yet (havent done any of the side stories, we'll do them soon probably) so if my takes are disproven by anything ive yet to see please do not tell me htank you

first off OHHH MY GODDDD THIS GAME IS SO MUCH LESS CREEPY ABOUT THE MINORS AND ITS SUCH A BREATH OF FRESH AIR COMPARED TO DANGANRONPA. its not perfect, of course, i do not entirely love the jokes(???) about keiji (known grown adult man) going on dates with sara (known teenage girl), but like, this game does not make me feel gross all the time? thank u nankidai for not making your teacher character with a close relationship with one of his former students a groomer! the bare minimum! im gonna hit kodaka with a stick this should not be a point in the game's favor.

anyway! ended chapter 2 with Reko and Sou (shin) alive, ended chapter 3 having lost Reko .. . :( shes my favorite... i was so sad... ranmaru we're not friends anymore/.... you suck... you killed my best girl... we um, did make a grand total of 175 save files though, so at some point me and the friend i played with are gonna go back and scrub through anything and everything that we missed. maybe after we do the side stories though, not sure yet. reko yabusame i swear to god i will crawl into the screen and kill ranmaru myself for you. i will save you. i love you so much mwah

for years ive only known midori as The Guy That Kids On Danganronpa Discourse Instagram Put Overdramatic Yet Also Somehow Extremely Haphazard Trigger Warnings on every post that included him, so i was really excited to meet him. and boy he did not disappoint this guys NUTS!!! HES CRAZAY!!!!!!!! he has such a perfectly striking look about him. i love how he almost never stops looking straight at you, and how his suit is stark black so it obscures a lot of his shape when he's in the dark, its so cool. they absolutely nailed the atmosphere whenever you're around this guy.

but the first jumpscare when he like reaches out at you from the coffin just kinda made me laugh. me when i get you

also, if you're this far in to care about my opinions on games you probably know that i am Known Danganronpa V3 Hater. i think in particular Kokichi Ouma is way too good of a character for how dogwater the game's actual plot is, and Shin Tsukimi, while not being the same, obviously, scratches that itch of a guy trapped in a death game that spends all his time lying and living under a persona because he's afraid of dying perfectly While Being In A Game That Doesnt Make Me Feel Like Eating Sheet Metal . i love this dude and his ugly several clashing colors outfit. he wants my ass like mega dead right now but thats not important surely

also, i think its sweet that joe and sara are just best friends and they rarely ever even entertain the idea that they had romantic feelings for each other. i think its extra sweet and tragic that joe was able to tell sara he loved her in the end, meaning it as his best friend. and the way the game completely ceases showing you flashbacks of him after that point and just lets the image of the hallucinations replace his actual memory overtime is so good and haunting. this doubled down by the way her memory of him is completely locked up as soon as she starts trying to actually remember the way he really was, its so good.

i think thats all i have to say for now, but umm!!! really really good im excited to go back and fill in the gaps i missed. especially regarding kanna becasue i have a lot of theories about her that i hope im on the right track about #lol. but even if i dont i want to see her i miss her. yaay!!! i love when video games are good. i love you video games.

ill probably make more posts down the line with more thoughts after i let them marinade in my brain for a while... mostly when i have thoughts ive been sending them to the friend im playing with so we can discuss theories together LOL

#bri talks

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bluebunnyears-08 · 1 year

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How Prime Has The Potential To Be A Great Psychological/Lovecraft Horror

I know, I know, all of you are probably looking at this thinking I lost my mind.

But let me explain and show you how it could be a horrifying experience.

First, all of you are probably commenting on how Sonic is a family friendly franchise, but that doesn't necessarily mean EVERY media of Sonic SHOULD be this way. There are some family friendly franchises with mature and more serious spin-offs or adaptations.

So Prime can be a good start to deviating from it's other media's. But I'll get to that later, I should probably explain how it can be, and in a way is, a psychological and Lovecraft horror, more than just another cartoon. At least to me.

1. (Psychological) Exploring The Character's Emotional Trauma and Internal Conflicts Is a Different Approach to Most Sonic Medias

While most Sonic media's focus on action and saving the day, Prime takes a different approach. Instead of just being action and "Sonic saving the day", Sonic completely breaks his home, unintentionally shattering everything, including his friends. Shadow is also inadvertently dragged along, using a Chaos Emerald to save himself from the blast, but ending up trapped in the void.

If the variants being shards of the main characters is true, then Prime is working to deconstruct the characters, but some variants caught my eyes. There's Rusty, a robotized Amy, which sure, that's cool, but remember Amy's first known introduction in the Sonic CD? I only remember some parts, but wasn't Amy kidnapped by metal Sonic to be robotized or something? Another obvious variant is Nine, who was basically abused for being different, only this time Sonic wasn't there to help him? And Dread, a greedy Knuckles, kinda reminding me of how Knuckles was tricked by Eggman so the Doc could steal the master emerald?

Something just seems a bit more about these variants.

1. (Lovecraft) The Variants Situation if The Shard Theory Is True

If the Shard theory is true, then the variants existence is a nightmare.

Imagine having flesh and bone, imagine having thoughts of your own, imagine having a backstory of your own; only for it to be revealed that everything, your body, your thoughts, your experiences; your existence, to be a mistake. You weren't supposed to exist, and if the putting it back together = Shattered Space disappears is true, then you're doomed to die.

Doomed be mashed together with other shards, to be pieced together into someone you don't know, and will never meet. Your very existence is a lie, something that needs to be fixed with your death.

Yeah...not a pretty picture, is it?

2. (Psychological) Sonic's Emotional Turmoil

Sonic suffers a lot in this show. No, I don't mean the physical pain, that's a gag, I'm referring to the emotional suffering, which is very much there.

Sonic is horrified by these events; breaking his home, shattering everyone he loved and cared for, having to experience hatred, scorn, and hostility from those who look so much like his friends; from people who don't recognize him, and having to witness or hear about his friends suffering, being unable to really do anything about it without being met with apprehension.

He's clearly not enjoying any of this, or having any fun, at all.

2. (Lovecraft) The Paradox Prism Is Unsettling Itself

What is the Prism?

We know it's powerful as hell, being able to rip apart reality, and possibly time, and is capable of creating new spaces. But what else is it capable of? Where did it come from? Why is it here beneath the Green Hills Bedrock?

Whatever it is, it's the one in control after Sonic breaks it, ripping apart the world, throwing Sonic through dimensions, trapping Shadow in the void, and even responding to certain contacts.

It's glow almost seems like it calling, beckoning for someone to find it, to use it, to break it.

3. (Psychological) Shadow In The Void

How is Shadow doing in this void?

All memes aside, it's clear he isn't taking everything so well. As when he first makes contact with Sonic, he sounds despondent and absolutely devastated, stating: "It's broken! It's all broken!". His voice is slightly shaky when he does so too. But in his final contact with Sonic, is him furious and violent.

From his first contact to his last furious one, Shadow's mental state isn't exactly stable. Being stuck in the void doesn't help anything either. Some development happened to Shadow off screen, one I really hope we'll see.

Yeah, Shadow is not having a great time either. But development can never be fast, it takes time, which brings my next theory in mind below.

3. (Lovecraft) The Void

Ending up in the void is something I'd choose death over. Mainly because, when thinking about it, it's something nobody would wish on their worst enemy. Which makes Shadow being there so much harsher.

The void is an empty space, nothing but shards surrounding you, you're alone, with nobody to talk to. You're alone with your thoughts. But the scariest thing would be how long it must seem.

From what we've seen so far, time runs differently in the Shattered Space, the void can't be any different. It could've been years to Shadow, but time doesn't seem to run in the void, only in the Shattered Spaces. If anything time seems to pause, or just stop working in the void. It doesn't exist there.

Shadow definitely isn't having fun, especially when you consider his alliance with Rouge and Omega, and even worse, his promise to Maria to keep the world safe.

4. (Psychological) Nine Being A Part Of Tails Says Something About All Of Us

One of the things talked about a lot is how Nine, if the shard theory is true, was a part of Tails to begin with. This bitter, jaded, violent, desperate, traumatized, in pain child was a part of the happy, jolly fox we all know and love.

But, if the theory is true, Nine having been a part of Tails all along speaks about how there's a hidden side in all of us. All of that bitterness, cruelty, selfishness, trauma, denial, desperateness, and love/touch starved hope is in all of us. But we try to deny, to hide, to avoid acknowledging it, which only makes it never go away, or makes it worse.

It isn't just Tails that denies it though, which is a whole other thing of itself...

4. (Lovecraft) They Can't Be By Each Other's Side, Both Are Doomed To Be Alone In Some Way

One of the saddest truths about Prime is that Nine and Sonic can't be by each other's side, they can't be there for each other: no matter how much they don't want to be, they have to be alone. Sonic is from a universe that's now destroyed, thrust into the remains of his actions face-first, he can't connect with these variants of his friends, and is emotionally alone.

Nine is just a part of the universe Sonic can't stay in, so there's no chance of them ever staying by each other's side, he's alone in both ways.

The universe, the shards won't allow it, thrusting Sonic from Nine via shard or by Sonic himself. Not to mention the inevitable fate that Nine has to face along with his fellow variants.

Their entire relationship is a world of inevitable pain.

5. (Psychological) The Dark Matter, Symbolism, And Complex Themes Of Prime

There's no denying it, at its core, with the sprinkled moments of unease and signs of deeper depths in the first batch, so far Prime's setting up a dark story, one filled with harsh tragedy. Pretty much every character suffers and is going to suffer even more in the second batch, the aspects of Sonic that save the day, Friendship and Hope is actually deconstructed in this show, showing how friendship can become a means of escapism and can't really save the day, and how hope can instead damage someone to denial.

Sonic is without his friends here and the friends he made out of the variants is going to be shattered once they find out the truth, so friendship can't be used, and his hopes to fix the world are...almost desperate, like he doesn't want to acknowledge that maybe it can't be fixed.

Another thing is that Prime actually has a lot of symbolism hidden in it. The Grim being a literal landscape of escapism, Nine's nine tails, the variants themselves being representations of different traits, the palm tree being a symbol of desperate hope, and more.

The final thing is the early complex themes in the show.

The inevitable fact that the variants has to die to restore the world is a very grim one, but it shows how painfully insignificant and meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things. They’re just shards that need to come together. That’s the universe for ya.

The use of "Man vs. Self" in this show instead of having Sonic just save the day and defeat bad guys

The exploration that there's a dark, sad, traumatized part in all of us

The need for balance in everything

The exploration of desire vs need, and most importantly:

Selfishness vs selflessness.

5. (Lovecraft) The Grim Is A Lovecraftian Horror Of Itself

The Grim is hauntingly beautiful. The sky is every color of blue, filled with stars, the ground is orange and endless, and silver crystals jut out of it, some partly buried.

Look at how small and insignificant Nine and Sonic looks here, how vast the Grim is that you can't see where it ends. It's truly an unsettling wonder. It looks unsettling and it is unsettling, not at all an ideal place to live in.

There are no trees, no water, no signs of any life. Nothing. You're alone, surrounded by absolutely nothing. The only thing there is you and your imagination.

Why isn't there any variants here? Why is it so empty? Why doesn't it end?

There's no answer except your own thoughts, speaking much louder now that there's nothing to distract you from them. You're alone, an insignificant speck in a vast world of beauty and isolation.

Paranoia would kick in, you'd think you heard something, but there's nothing there.

That's what the Grim is, it's nothing but you, there's nobody here, there's nothing here, this place never ends, it's the physical representation of isolation, of perfect escapism.

And that couldn’t be more terrifying…

#sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #nine the fox #miles nine prower #dark #more sonic prime!#nine needs a hug #sonic needs a hug #everyone needs a hug #sonic prime analysis #horror #very long post #but worth it

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azumasoroshi · 1 year

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Izaya & Shizuo Drama CD??????

so guess what i learned about today! it's truly incredible how much lesser-known content there is about shizaya once you start digging

ive known about dear girls stories for ages but i didnt realize there were actual drama cds for izaya and shizuo too 😭i thought this was just people pretending that daisuke ono and hiroshi kamiya were talking as shizaya (<-CLOWN behavior)

but nope 4 seconds in we got a Shizu-chan name drop so lmAOOO time to listen i guess

there's two of these translated by the DGS subs channel (tracks 9-15) so idk if there's more before or after these or if those tracks have different characters, which i probably wont watch unless shizuo and celty have one or something lmao

youtube

according to google translate, "kenka" = "fight" which is funny

can we talk about that official art btw because how did izaya get close enough to shizuo to steal his glasses without getting caught?? dawg???? i guess he came up from behind him or something but fuckin imagine izaya just hanging down from above and doing the spiderman thing...except he steals shizu-chan's glasses instead of kissing him. i should draw that actually

this is hilarious actually i cant stop grinning bskjgHDSH why are they talking civilly about the date. what are they doing

it took them 51 seconds to actually reference hating each other which might be a record! good job gays

wait we're skipping ahead?? to august 30th??? we're just not gonna explain why/how they were in a bathhouse together???? okay?????

bro chased izaya up a mountain??? there are songs written about that kind of stufff bro 😭 like "id climb the tallest mountains and cross the widest rivers for you". something along those lines. shizuoooo you're so dedicateddddd <33333

why does he sound surprised bsdkgshk 1. YOU called him and 2. YOU led him up the mountain. little shit

i had to delete a whole segment because my brain is dead and i thought the dates were going backwards and i was like huh. interesting amount of nonlinear storytelling going on here

yes because august and september come before july soro good job

adventurer day, cleaning day, mid-year day? is this whole drama cd just them unintentionally celebrating obscure holidays together what the fuck

shizuo was just talking about ironing where did you come from??? izaya????? and shizuo didnt even react bdsjkgsh i literally cant wrap my brain around this like how are they just casually talking

WHAT DOES "THAT KIND OF WORK" MEAN HUH

izaya stripper au real (im sorry. my head is permanently in the gutter i think)

izaya i think you're losing it a bit because how the fuck do you watch someone IRONING HIS CLOTHES and still think it's entertaining?? does literally anything shizuo does entertain you what the hell

bro is down horrendous

oh so THIS is the bath one, i thought that was the first scenario (half-year day) because of the cicadas?? for some reason. i mistook cicada noises for cricket noises im a clown

NERDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

damn izaya read his mind. #justcouplethings

shizuo joining in on the wordplay too GOD they're so annoying

and cue giant crashing wave sound effect

the tweet above mentions that this basically confirms that shizuo entered the bath with izaya and i havent been able to stop thinking about it. like izaya would enter the bath to fuck with shizuo but here shizuo joins him. hmmmmmmmm

translator asking the real questions here pFFF

#shizaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #durarara #insane that this whole cd is just them being as chill as humanly possible for them #like what #they're just hanging out????#it took me forever to finish this post because of my 1 hour limit auhwgushhggh i have to write my posts faster

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mimilind · 9 months

Text

A Magical Classmate - Part 5

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 3200

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

You have two magical evenings with Drake.

5. Classical Music and Dancing

The first lecture after Christmas, Drake strolled inside very much like the day he first joined your class. A bit late, looking elegant in suit and tie, and paying no attention to the teacher. This time, however, he paid all the more attention to his classmates. Nodding, smiling, giving little waves, and to your increased delight he took his seat next to you.

Sitting beside him, you were reminded of how much you had missed him. Every day of the holidays you had thought about him and even counted the days until uni would start again – highly unusual, for you.

“How was Christmas?” you whispered.

“Dull.”

“Were you in America with your family?”

“I was here in town, not doing much. I learned to bake gingersnaps… and practiced my Swedish. Oh, and I memorized the textbook for the new semester if there is anything you want explained.”

Your chest grew tight. Had he been alone all through Christmas and New Years? Poor him… You wished you had known, then you could have come to visit.

He poked you playfully. “Don’t look like that, it wasn’t too bad. I listened to a lot of music which was fun. I even bought CDs with that loud, noisy junk you guys listen to.”

You couldn’t talk more because of the ongoing lecture – people nearby were frowning at your whispering – but his grateful smile made you feel better. You were glad that Catrine suggested you buy him a present, and even more glad you had chosen something music related.

At lunch, Drake gathered everyone around him. “I have a belated Christmas gift for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” said Catrine.

“I wanted to.” He unfolded a glossy folder with the title ‘The Barber of Seville’. He explained it was an opera by Rossini, and that he had tickets for the entire class to the Sunday performance.

You were thrilled to get an evening in Drake’s company – even if it was together with everyone else. But when Sunday arrived, you became nervous. Opera seemed so fancy; what would you even wear? Should you bring a snack? Probably not popcorn and soda like when going to a movie…

After changing clothes several times and spreading the contents of your wardrobe all over the room, you at last picked your most proper outfit, and brought no snacks.

You arrived at the opera house half an hour early, and found Drake already waiting in the lobby. When you joined him, you decided to be bold. “I have never been to the opera before. Can I sit with you, so you can explain if I don’t understand?”

That was an excuse, of course; you just wanted to be near him.

“Sure.” He didn’t seem to suspect anything.

When everyone had come, you went to your seats together. They were at the third balcony, right in front of the stage. Ascending the stairs, you looked out through the panorama windows and admired the view of the Göta Älv river gleaming pink and orange in the evening sun. A sheen of frost was covering its calm surface.

You entered the narrow balcony and took your seat. When you peeked over the railing you saw how far below the floor was.

“Afraid of heights?” asked Drake amusedly.

You weren’t, but you didn’t mind if he thought so. “Very. You must comfort me!”

“I don’t believe you.” He grabbed your shoulders, jokingly pushing you forward.

You gave an undignified squeak as the sheer drop before you made your belly tingle. “Asshole,” you giggled, though you were secretly pleased with his teasing.

“That’s me,” he acceded unashamedly.

You took hold of his arm, leaning against him. “Now you made me even more afraid.”

“Liar.” But he didn’t push you away.

A sound began; the orchestra was tuning their instruments in the pit below the stage. The murmur of the audience silenced expectantly as everyone took their seats, and then the lights went out and the music began.

Drake whispered in your ear: “This piece is called the overture. It’s an intro to the opera.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered.

His arm was warm under yours and his perfume drifted to you. Did he think you could focus on the music under such circumstances?

But to your surprise your attention was soon caught by the unfolding drama. They sang in Italian, but there was a thin monitor above the stage with the translation. The singing was beautiful, and you found that you cared about Rosina and Count Almaviva. You wanted them to have their happy ever after, despite how stupidly the count went about his wooing.

Drake kept whispering explanations to you, because the storyline was often confusing and not very realistic – though still entertaining – and in doing so he sat so close to you his leg was pressed against yours. You still held his arm and contemplated taking his hand instead, but you were too afraid. What if he pushed you away? Hand-holding was quite something else than just sitting close. He might not be as into you as you hoped… and you didn’t want to risk losing his friendship.

Instead you decided to be content with what you had and enjoy the pleasant evening.

The following weeks, the lectures and labs continued as usual, and as time passed you became more and more convinced you had to do something about your crush on Drake. You couldn’t keep pining like this; it had a bad effect on your studies. And your appetite, and sleep, and mostly everything else, too…

On top of it all, there was talk on your campus about the upcoming spring ball, a very grand prom hosted by the technology university. One of your classmates had a contact who was a student there and could get you tickets.

None of your friends were going; Catrine found it too expensive and Martin didn’t like parties with a dress code. Andreas was not in town that weekend, and Drake seemed unaware of the event.

But you were intrigued. A ball… it sounded luxurious and exotic, like being in a fairy-tale. But in order to go, you needed a date, and the only date you wanted was Drake.

If you asked him, he was sure to suspect why.

After pondering about it through many sleepless nights, you finally decided to ask him after all. A prom meant classical music and classical dancing – you could make it sound like you asked him because he might like it, not because you wanted to go on a date with him.

And if he turned you down, then at least you would know. Then you could forget him, and the way it felt now that would almost be a relief.

Despite your sound reasoning, bringing the subject up the next day made you a nervous, fluttering mess. You could only pray he wouldn’t notice how badly your fingers trembled.

“So, eh, did you hear? There’s this ball coming up at Chalmers, with fancy clothes and music, and waltzes and everything. Right up your alley. Wanna go?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I bet you are good at dancing, and I need a…” You had meant to say ‘date’ but changed the word at the last moment. “Uh, a friend to go with.”

For some reason, being called “friend” always made him look pleased, but he still seemed ambivalent. It took a while until he replied, during which your heart pounded so hard you feared he could hear it, and the trembles in your fingers worsened.

“Sure, why not?”

Nearly staggering with relief, you fought the urge to make a victory dance. “Good. That’s settled then,” you said as calmly as you could.

The day arrived at last. When you went out to the waiting taxi, you for once felt beautiful and attractive. Your outfit was rented for the occasion and fitted you perfectly, like it was made for you.

Drake had asked you to order the taxi, since he – strangely – had no phone. But he said he would pay for it, which was a relief; after buying the ball ticket you were rather broke.

When the car drove up his street, you became nervous, but in a good way. Drake and you were going on a date! Or, not outright a date, but it still felt that way. You fidgeted with the fabric of your fine clothes as your heart beat faster and faster.

You saw him from far away where he stood waiting. He wore a black dress suit with tails again, with a green bowtie and matching pocket square, and he had combed his hair differently. It fell over his forehead in a side parting that suited him much better than his normal slicked back style.

As he entered the car, he looked around curiously as if he had never been in one before, and patted the leather upholstery appreciatively. “Nice.” Then he turned his eyes to you and stopped his motions. “You look great,” he said after a brief pause. It sounded like he had meant to say more.

You felt at a loss for words too. He was so handsome it almost hurt you physically just looking at him.

“You too,” you managed.

Then the taxi started and the intense moment was interrupted by Drake’s excited exclaim: “Wow, look how fast we’re going!”

The driver chuckled. “Fast? This?”

The car was in fact going very slowly, yet Drake seemed mesmerized by the ride, his face glued to the window like an eager retriever.

After a while, he seemed to remember something and managed to tear his gaze away. “This is for you.” He put a small box in your hand.

“For me?” Surprised, you opened the box. There was a bracelet inside, with alternating green and silver beads. “Oh my God…” you breathed, toughing it with awe. “It’s beautiful.”

He pulled up his sleeve, showing an identical one on his wrist. “I wanted us to match tonight. Here, I’ll help put it on.”

As his finger touched your arm, a shiver went through you. The bracelet felt cool against your skin.

“Thank you. I love it!” You probably ought to say that it was too much, and he shouldn’t have, but for once you held your tongue. He wanted you to have this and obviously could afford it. You didn’t want to make him feel bad.

When you arrived not long afterwards, you ascended the stairs to the banquet hall together. Observing the other finely dressed students, you saw Drake was easily the most handsome man there, looking so much like a prince you again wondered whether he was one for real. A prince in exile.

Walking on his side, you felt like royalty too.

On top of the stairs, a photographer offered to take a picture of you together. You were about to say yes but Drake swiftly said: “Nej tack,” in heavily accented Swedish.

As he pulled you away, you gave him a quizzical look.

“We will remember this night without a photograph, I am sure,” he said smoothly.

You nodded. There was no way you would ever forget such a magical evening, and then it had not even begun.

The banquet hall was amazing. Chandeliers spread a mild, warm light over the many tables, decorated with spring flowers and confetti. You found your seats next to each other, with your names written in gold letters on neat cards. Drake pulled out the chair for you before taking his own.

Drake and you were surrounded by technologists, who turned out to be both nice and funny. They didn’t mind speaking English for his sake.

Thanks to them, you were taught the customs of a formal dinner. There were many toasts – to the spring, to women, to men, and other toasts just because – and each time you were supposed to say “skål”, raise your glass, and meet the gaze of first your date, then the person on your other side, and lastly the one opposite to you.

You loved the toasting. Looking deeply into Drake’s large, pale blue eyes gave you flutters each time, and you thought he might be similarly affected. The way his pupils grew slightly wider made you think he actually felt something more than friendship too.

The evening progressed most pleasantly. You ate, one tasty course after the other, sipped sparkling wine and cider, listened to speeches and classical music, and of course talked to Drake a lot. He told you about formal dinners he had attended in his boarding school, and what his favorite foods were, and named all the classical pieces the orchestra played in the background.

He treated you most attentively, politely refilling your glass, and actually standing up when you had to go to the bathroom, and again when you returned so he could pull out your chair. You had never before felt so indulged and cared for.

When the dinner was over, the tables were moved aside to make space for dancing. Drake bowed to you. “May I have this dance?”

You readily accepted, your chest becoming full of butterflies, even more so as he took your hand and led you onto the dance floor. His hand was larger than yours, warm and calloused.

The first dance would be a waltz as was the spring ball custom. You stood facing him, placing one hand on his broad shoulder and the other in his hand. Again feeling his warmth, his scent, meeting his gaze as he held you.

When the music played up he took the lead and elegantly moved you along the circle of pairs, dancing like a professional. His steps were so graceful you at first felt clumsy, despite how much you had practiced at home, but when you began to relax in his arms you soon found his skill helped you. Following his lead, you waltzed in unity, feeling light-footed and uncommonly gracile.

Others were looking at Drake and you with admiration, and no wonder. He was outshining the entire dance floor and it spilled over to you.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” you asked breathlessly, both from the exertion and his closeness.

“I learned it as a boy. My parents often hosted balls and other social events before the war and I was expected to dance with all the old hags. I didn’t mind the dancing as such, but the stink of Chanel and mothballs nearly became the death of me.” He made a mock suffering grimace.

You frowned in puzzlement. “What war?”

“Did I say war? No, I meant before the… eh, bad times. You know, when uh…”

Even more puzzled, you tried to figure out what bad times those might be. Something financial, maybe, if it had put an end to balls and social events? “The nineties’ recession?” you suggested.

“That’s the one, yeah.” He spun you around a few turns and you had to focus on your steps instead of talking.

But you couldn’t help wondering a little. It felt like he really had meant to say “war”, but if so, what country was he from then? Somewhere in the Middle East? Perhaps his family were oil billionaires from Kuwait or something. Though, with his hair- and eye color he didn’t look very Arab… unless he was adopted?

Either way, his casual comment had managed to increase your curiosity about him even further.

After the waltz finished, more followed. You danced until your feet hurt and you became hot and out of breath.

“Shall we catch some air?” Drake suggested, offering his arm.

You went down to the street outside, joining a small crowd of other tired guests, letting the fresh spring night air cool you off. When Drake removed his suit jacket and vest, you had a hard time taking your eyes off his shapely torso hinting through the shirt he wore underneath. You wished he would button it down, but this time he didn’t.

You drifted closer to him under the guise of moving away from a woman’s cigarette smoke.

“I have had a magical evening so far,” you told him.

“Magical?” He grinned. “Glad you think so. I’m enjoying it too; great food, great music, and it’s been nice to waltz again. Been a while since the last time. Thanks for asking me.”

His smile was irresistible and you returned it. “Thanks for accepting.”

You returned inside and were thrilled when Drake hung his jacket on a chair first. Now when you put your hand on his shoulder in the dance, you could feel the warmth of his skin under the thin fabric. It made your heart throb quickly.

Your dancing improved steadily; you learned from his confident lead. It felt like being in a dream. You were allowed to be in his arms for a whole night… to continuously keep eye-contact. To feel his muscles move under your hand resting on his shoulder, and feel his hand holding yours…

The final songs were slow and romantic. Drake drew you closer until you were practically dancing in a hug. As you leaned your head against his chest, the surreal feeling increased. This was too good to be true.

But soon it would end, and despite everything you still didn’t know how things were between Drake and you. Was this only friendship, or had it become more? He was your prom date and you had danced all evening, but he said himself he had even danced with old hags in his childhood so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he just liked the dancing itself and didn’t care who he did it with?

You needed to see him again, just the two of you, but the next ball was a year away. What could you suggest instead?

The music stopped. Time to say something…

At the last moment you had an idea. “You know, now that we tried your kind of entertainment with that opera performance earlier and now a classical banquet and a ball, we ought to try my idea of a night out,” you said lightly, trying to act casual.

He looked amused. “What might that be? A student pub with bad music and getting wasted on cheap drinks?”

Your face grew hot as you were reminded of how you followed him home, drunk as a skunk. “No, but what do you say to fast food for starters, then watching a movie and eating lots of popcorn, and afterwards sharing a few drinks in the park?”

“Together with the rest of the class?”

You looked down, fidgeting with your sleeve. “Or just the two of us? Would be less, uh, crowded…”

He hesitated before replying, and when he did he sounded a bit guilty: “I’ve never seen a movie… it couldn’t hurt, I suppose.”

“What?” You forgot your embarrassment. “You never saw a movie? Not even renting a VHS and watching it at home?”

“My parents were very old-fashioned,” he said uncomfortably, and now it was his turn to avoid your gaze.

“That explains a lot,” you said, thinking about how he always struggled with technical appliances, and didn’t even have a phone or a TV at home.

Not until you were getting into the waiting taxi a while later, did your brain catch his choice of tense. My parents were very old-fashioned. Were. Had they died?

Maybe you could ask him on the next date.

The thought filled you with a new swarm of butterflies. He had accepted! This was not the end; soon you would go on another date! And perhaps after that one, you would finally know what his feelings for you were.

A/N:

In case anyone wonders what the reader’s outfit for the ball was, it’s a bit difficult to say because it depends on the reader's gender and style. But google “spring prom” and check images, and pick the most beautiful dress or suit you find – that’s what you were wearing. :)

Translations: Nej tack = no thanks, skål = cheers

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #university setting #fanfiction #fluff #feel good #draco x you #draco malfoy is nice #muggle reader #tom felton #A Magical Classmate #Mimi Lind

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ambiguousthoughtsinsilence · 10 months

Text

my year of boygenius

Why do we listen to music? Is it just melodic noise that provides background to our daily existence or is it a space where we look for meaning, purpose and beauty? This is a false question, as music can be all of these things, but it is so much more. For many people, the beauty of music gives their life meaning, whether listening or creating it. Most of us will have fond memories of listening to the radio in the car or discovering an album that transported us to a seemingly magical place, expanding our understanding of what music could be and do (e.g. Jeff Buckley’s Grace for me).

Growing up in a relatively small town by the Baltic Sea, one of my favourite activities was to go to the seaside in winter, when it was stripped of human presence, sit down on the staircase of a lifeguard’s lookout and listen to the songs on my iPod. Years before that I had a silver cassette player and a CD player that I always carried with me, along with a CD wallet. Music has always been a comforting presence in my life. But even in this rich history, there are certain albums and artists that have had such a transformative impact on my life that they have become part of who I am. There are not many albums that fall into this category, but this year one of them did appear.

In March, 2023 the record had come out, the first full LP from boygenius. As I listened to it for the first time, I knew it was going to embed itself in my brain as I was going to play it again and again and again. I became obsessed with the record and the three women responsible for creating it - Lucy Dacus, Julien Baker and Phoebe Bridgers.

It was like being a teenage girl again, eagerly watching interviews, trying to find out ways in which to watch their Coachella performances and following a fan account that reposted every live video and tour photo imaginable. People always talk about separating art from the artist, but the songs on the record felt so grounded and rooted in familiarity, like they were made by people that felt real and compassionate and vulnerable. In interviews they would talk about books and artists they admired and how they valued each other, and for someone, who has long felt that romantic love should not be valued more than friendship, it felt almost revolutionary to hear that as a foundation of an indie ‘supergroup’s’ ethos.

In August I had a chance to attend Oyafestivalen with my best friend Tina, who had very kindly gifted me a ticket. boygenius were due to play in the early hours of the evening. This was my first time seeing them live.

‘I want to hear your story / And be a part of it’ / boygenius- without you, without them

Making meaningful connections with other people is probably one of the, if not the most, important things you can do with your life. As I stood on a lawn in Oslo and kept bawling my eyes out, I couldn’t help, but end up in existential ponderings about love, loneliness and human connection and the fact that my closest friend was sharing the gig with me. We live thousands of km apart, but I love her loads and appreciate that she’s a part of my life.

‘And it feels good/ To be known so well/ I can’t hide from you / Like I hide from myself’ / boygenius- true blue

After the concert ended, I sat down by a tree to regain my composure, tear streaked cheeks and red eyes, an emotional outpouring and connection that meant so much to me. A few weeks later, I saw them headlining at Gunnersbury Park, this time sharing it with Tina again and my other friend Peter. This experience was less rooted in existential ponderings and more just an overwhelming sense of joy. It was a scorchingly hot day and multiple people fainted, however everyone around helped to get those people taken care of as quickly as possible.

Queer care and joy was ever present in this audience, people had arrived with wonderfully crafted items of clothing or little references to boygenius lyrics on them. Tina and I handed out pink carnations to the younger girls behind us. There is something strange about loving a band, whose audience seems much younger than you are, but maybe the best kind of music manages to reach something within us that is shared, regardless of age.

As the fireworks went up into the dark night sky, I felt so much joy. This time their music had reached the part of me that felt an immense gratitude for being alive and being able to experience such happiness with more than 20’000 people. This performance felt even more explosive and raw, but also funny and deeply meaningful. It seemed that all of us were treating ourselves to some self-belief.

‘will you be a nihilist with me / if nothing matters, man that’s a relief / Solomon had a point when he wrote Ecclesiastes/ if nothing can be known, then stupidity is holy / if the bore becomes a void, we’ll treat ourselves to some self-belief’ / boygenius - Satanist

The last time I saw them live was thanks to Peter, in a small and intimate acoustic set in Kingston. It was another very special experience as the songs had become embedded in my brain and hearing them acoustically felt quite different from the previous shows with a full backing band, here were the three people who were responsible for all those captivating melodies. They embody a vulnerable compassion and a reliance on friendship that feels authentic, and it is wonderful to see creativity blossom from a place of deep love and appreciation for each other.

The record is an album I have grown to love deeply, because it seems to fit whatever mental state I am in. Without You, Without Them for when I want to remind myself of the love I feel for my friends, Cool About It as a reminder that all of have had to play it cool, when someone has hurt us deeply, Not Strong Enough and Anti-Curse for when my mental health lies somewhere in the bottom of the bin. Whatever I am going through, I can find comfort in knowing that the record is there to give me solace and company, whether I am staring at the ceiling or going on a walk around North London.

#boygenius #personal #personal essay #music #album #albumoftheyear

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ahogedetective · 11 days

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"Happy Birthday Bestiiiiiieee!!" Ayumi practically threw herself at the detective and hugged him tightly! Lifting Shuichi up in the process and spinning him around. Oh, you know how Ayumi was-- Physically affectionate with her friends. And Shuichi was no exception!!

"Hehehehe!! I hope your day has been super good-- But it's only going to get better, because you know why? Presents from me! Ayumi Arakawa, MC Beating Heart!" Rapping God of Japan!" That was surely a title, but hey-- She earned it with her rep of taking down an entire sketchy but well known record label! But enough about her. This was about Shuichi! The Birthday Guy!

She holds out a bag for him! Inside were hard-cover collector editions of a certain series he liked! Even signed by the authors themselves!

"I heard one of your fave serious even got an audio drama released so...along with the books-- Tah-dah! CDs of the Audio Drama! Hehehe! They have my fave seiiyuu in it, so I might start readin' that series myself!" Of course, one way to get her into a series... was the voice actors; especially if they voiced certain 2d Husbands. But those were also in the bag too!

"Anyways, nothing but the best for my bestie!!! Happy Birthday, Sushi-kun!!!! There's something special in the bottom of the bag too...~ Heheh! Don't tell Izzy! It's for your eyes only! Aaand maybe open it private." Ayumi sticks her tongue out playfully. Oh she knew about her bestie's special interest.

... An other limited edition run... of a certain male gravure magazine; featuring Izuru when he did... idol work. @girlishwhiimsy

(( ITS SILLY GIRL TIME!! WITH THE SILLIEST GIFTS EVER!! only she could get get hands on limited edition runs >:3c izuru had his spotlight its ayumi time!!))

{ Shuichi Birthday!! 🎉}

@girlishwhiimsy !!!

"! Ayumi!! Thank-woah-hoh-hahaah!" The moment Ayumi lifted Shuichi up in that bear hug, the smile on his face brightens all the more, laughing as he holds on tight when she starts spinning him around!! "Ahaha, hi there!!! Thank you, thank you, bestie!" And Shuichi was always more than happy to return the hugs she gives him right back: he loves her hugs!

Once he's put down, he rapidly nods his head. "Thank you!! Yes, my day has been wonderful. Ahaha, that's right: made all the more better because you're here! Hehehe, no better person to receive presents from: the MC Beating Heart, herself! I'm so lucky!" He laughs, of course hyping her up like she deserves to be!

The moment he receives the bag from her, Shuichi curiously opens it up to see what's inside. "Ohhh...!!" His eyes practically sparkle when first seeing the collectors edition of one of his favorite series: a detective anime he's been really getting into! "Is this the collector's edition!? And it's even got his signature...!!!!" Which he can't imagine how hard that must have been to get..! Or maybe for someone as famous as Ayumi, probably much easier. Either way, he was ecstatic.. all the more when she tells him she even got CD's of the audio dramas!

"You even got the audio dramas, too! I've been really wanting these, th-thank you so much!! For this and the books! Ahh, I see: ahaha, I had a feeling I heard one of your favorite seiyuu that you mentioned once... and yes, you should!! It's really good... think of detectives, but with special abilities! I could see you liking some of the guys: maybe even become one of your '2d husbands of the week.'" He jokes with a chuckle, knowing how much she loves her pretty boys.

"Ahaha, and that's why you're the best bestie, ever. Thank you so much, Ayumi! I can't wait to read the books and listen to the audio dramas later! I'll even tell you the parts your favorite seiyuus come on in case you get curious, hehehe... ....Oh?" He blinks when she suddenly teases about something special being at the bottom of the bag: and to not let Izuru know about it... and to open it in private...?! "U....U-Umm...A-Ayumi?? Wh...What exactly did you give me....? That I can't even tell Izuru abou...."

He peeks at the bottom of the bag. Trying to get a look of the cover as best he can without needing to take it out... and now he sees why she told him to open it in public, because he nearly drops the bag when he sees who is on the cover!! "...taaaAAAA-waaaawaahh?!?! I-Is....!!!! I-Is that...!??! Uwaaaaah...?!?"

It was Izuru. Shirtless Izuru on the cover of this gravure magazine. "O-Oh my god oh ym god my godddd-" Oh Shuichi has turned immediately red at the sight, and is packing everything back in the bag to completely cover the magazine at the bottom at lightening speed!! He's sorry, Ayumi, but those books and audio dramas might not be the first thing to peeks at tonight the moment he's back in his room...

"W..W-Well, um!! I-I can...c...certainly see why you said that, now!! Y-Yes, I will be s...sure t-to um!! Open it later i-in my room! F-For my eyes only!! Ahem!!" Before any more steam can rise out of his head, he's pulling Ayumi into a tight hug before she can dare tease him on how accurate she was!

"Th-That being said, th-thank you for such wonderful gifts, Ayumi!! I'm really happy I can have a bestie as wonderful as you!! Even if you love obliterating me like thisss!!!" Mostly said as a joke, and despite how red his face is, a bright smile does light up on his face! "You really did make today even better than ever...! Now come, I want to enjoy it even more with you! Let's pop into one of our favorite restaurants or cafes together...!"

#SIILLY GIRL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!#YESSS GIVE ME D AYUMIIII!!!#HEHE THIS WAS SOOO CUTE I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! 🌟🌟🌟🌟#SHUICHI LOVES HIS BESTIE!!! SHE ALWAYS SPOILS HIM SO WELL~!#JNDFKJNDFKJ AND THEN FUCKING KILLING HIM WITH THE GRAVURE MAGAZINE!!!#SPECIAL EDITION OF IZURU KAMUKURA BIG NATURALS!!!!#helovesitHEHEHE DKJNFDKJNDFJFDNKJ #AND THE COLLECTOR'S EDITION AND AUDIO DRAMA TOOOO!!!#also a reference to bungou stray dogs I think Shuichi would like it HEHEH #plus it's full o pretty boys Ayumi would prolly like it too huehue...#BUT YES THANK YOU FOR AYUMI TIME PIE!!!#SHE MADE HIS DAY EVEN MORE WONDERFUL~!#both ur kids make him the happiest sopping wet cat HEHEHE!!! 💞✨💖#Shuichi answers;;#girlishwhiimsy

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exitrowiron · 2 years

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Rich People Getting Richer (Part 2 of ?)

Take my word for it when I say that Rich People don't give a shit about whatever is the current 'outrage' occupying the attention the Joe Sixpack and Mrs. Soccer Mom. No, they don't care about the imaginary threats of drag queens, wokeness, trans people, pronouns, using the gender correct bathroom, etc. Their kids go to good public schools or private schools that don't ban books and if Buffy gets pregnant you can bet they'll find a way to obtain an abortion. These are all useful distractions to keep the masses from protesting what I'm about to explain to you.

In Part 1 we established that the Federal Income Tax brackets are Progressive; rich people have higher marginal and effective tax rates.

But these tax rates only apply to Ordinary Income. What's that you ask? Ordinary Income is wages, salaries, tips, bonuses etc.; the kind of income earned by ordinary people in their job. Ordinary income also includes interest earnings (like from a savings account or CD) and dividends (profit sharing that companies give their shareholders).

But there is another source of income enjoyed by rich people - Capital Gains. A Capital Gain results when you sell an asset for more than it's purchase price. Other than your home, what is the most common capital asset? STOCKS! Selling a stock for more than it's purchase price results in a Capital Gain. If you owned the stock for more than a year, it is considered a Long Term Capital Gain; less than a year and it is a Short Term Capital Gain.

The tax rate on Long Term Capital Gains is MUCH lower than the rates on Comparable Ordinary Income:

Let's use an example of two couples, each with a taxable income of $150K and each filing jointly. The Kramers are a working couple and all $150K of their earnings is Ordinary Income. The Kramers will pay $24,234 in taxes for an effective tax rate of 16.1%. The Seinfelds are trust fund kids. They earned $25K as butterfly shepherds and the remaining $125K comes from capital gains. The Seinfelds will pay $12,586 in taxes for an effective tax rate of 8.4%.

That's not the end of the good news for the Seinfelds though. They bought more stocks with the $11,648 they 'saved' in taxes and that helped them generate even more capital gains next year which were taxed at a lower rate and so they kept getting farther ahead of the Kramers at an accelerating rate.

This is obviously an exaggerated example, but you get the idea. The lower tax rate on capital gains is a huge advantage and the people who generate capital gains are (white) people who already have enough wealth to invest in assets like stocks. And the wealthier you get, Capital Gains income becomes a larger and larger share of our total income. For the Super Rich (ex. Elon Musk), Capital Gains can easily far exceed Ordinary Income.

But Mike, the Kramers (and many Americans with modest incomes) own stock too in their 401K! Yes, but 401Ks are already tax advantaged; that's not a reason for lower capital gains taxes.

Every year the Democrats propose increasing the capital gains tax and every year lobbyists and rich political donors go ape shit and the Republicans vote it down. They argue that this would lower investment, slow the growth of the stock market and the economy, etc. I doubt that. Are rich people going to start putting their money under their mattress? Are they really going to change citizenship to a low tax country? Probably no on both of those, but rich people have been known to hide money overseas and that risk should be accompanied by increased IRS audit resources (another initiative voted down by Republicans).

If you're ever going to write a letter to your Congressperson - you should write supporting parity of taxes on long term capital gains and ordinary income.

(Yes, I am aware of Net Investment Income Tax, which imposes an additional 3.8% tax on investment income, including your capital gains on high earning individuals. This additional tax still doesn't close the gap.)

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capn-o-my-soul · 3 months

Text

went back to the cd store today! they had EVEN MORE classical music and it was fabulous! i got four things

(top left) Respighi's Roman Trilogy (pines of rome, fountains of rome, roman festivals) recorded by Riccardo Muti and the philadelphia orchestra. muti's a great conductor and i love the philly orchestra's sound! however this was quite cheap so that makes me curious about it. i haven't listened to it yet but i look forward to it!

(bottom left) Trumpet music by Maurice Andre! this is 2 cds with a shit ton of baroque and classical trumpet solo pieces recorded by possibly the best trumpet player in the world before he died, so, as a trumpet player, i was obligated to purchase this once i saw it. i also have not heard this yet but i look forward to hearing it! one of the pieces he plays is the Haydn trumpet concerto in e-flat, which in addition to being perhaps the most well-known trumpet concerto in existence is the piece i played at my district solo & ensemble festival this year! maurice's recording of the haydn concerto is probably one of the best out there, alongside tine thing helseth in my opinion

(bottom right) Sibelius 5th symphony & Andante Festivo & Karelia Overture recorded by Neeme Jarvi & Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra. Gothenburg isn't my favorite orchestra but the 5th is just a fabulous symphony and was a nice addition to my small collection! i am not familiar with how Jarvi conducts sibelius so it will be interesting to see how it goes! i also have not heard the two couplings (i've heard the karelia suite but not the overture) so it should be fun!

(top right) Shostakovich opera Katerina Ismailova recorded by the soloists, choir, and orchestra of the Kiev Opera under the direction of Stepan Tourtchak. i have never heard of this orchestra, this choir, these singers, this conductor, or even this record label but i am listening to it as i write this and the sound is not terrible (it gets a little distorted when the full chorus sings loudly but it is completely managable) and it seems to be a pretty good performance! and i wanted to get it because it seems to be pretty rare and thought it might get swiped up soon! (the last time i went there was a full performance of Berg's Wozzeck and i wanted to get it this time and it was gone :'( )(interestingly Wozzeck was purchased but the two copies of Carmen and the many copies of several Wagner operas all remained unsold)

in conclusion, a successful trip! i only spent like 23 dollars after tax so i'm happy with that. they had a recording of khachaturian's gayane suite (also the only khachaturian cd in the whole store) that i really wanted to get but it alone was 17 dollars and i did Not have the money for that lol

#classical music #respighi #ottorino respighi #maurice andre #sibelius #jean sibelius #shostakovich #dmitri shostakovich #cd #cds

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banannabethchase · 1 year

Text

Adam's connecting flight gets delayed, and who else should be on the flight but Jon Moxley. They decide to share a hotel room, but, oh no, what could possibly go wrong? Or right?

Being in an airport really does inspire a person, doesn't it? Also this has been lingering in the back of my noggin for months.

Adam drops his head when the announcement comes on again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken the Bucks up on their invite to stay in one of their guest rooms – there’s no way he’s getting home any time soon at this point.

Stuck at the airport want to die, Adam texts Matt

It’s almost immediate that he gets back, told u so

Sometimes I actually hate you

<3 <3 <3 <3

He resists the urge to text Nick, who will probably be the exact same as Matt, just a little less overtly bitchy. He stretches out in the airport chair as he listens to the flight attendant repeat the announcement for the third time.

”Again, flight 1883 out of San Diego to Cincinnati is cancelled due to weather events across the Great Plains,” she says, sounding too chipper for the announcement. “We will be happy to help any stranded passengers make alternate plans.”

Adam curses the need for layovers as he gets up to the counter, Orville Peck’s newest album keeping him from losing it as he waits behind soccer moms and business professionals and, to his amusement, one of the crew guys from the night before. He doesn’t seem to recognize Adam, and Adam’s not going to get in the way of whatever he’s got going on in his headphones.

When he finally gets up to the counter, he exhales with relief. “Hey, there, ma’am, I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Certainly, sir,” she says. “Tell me what your situation is.”

Adam begins talking, and practically jumps when he hears an obnoxiously familiar voice go, “Oh, fuck me.”

Adam squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. He should have known this was coming. “Lord save me now.”

“I know,” says the counter attendant, sympathetic smile not helping in the slightest. “Flight delays are frustrating.”

“Oh, no it’s not that. It’s just – ” He stops himself from going into a detailed rant about just how perfect it is that he’s going to be stuck in the same airport as Jon Moxley for the foreseeable future. “Never mind. Regarding the flights, I have a connection that there’s no way I’m making.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that’s going to be the case,” she says, frowning. “How about this. We can book you a hotel room,” she does some clicking, “and get you a new fight for…well, it looks like, in order not to give you a 12 hour layover, we can get you out of here on a flight directly to Virginia tomorrow at 4pm.” She smiles at him. “Does that sound like it could work?”

Adam nods. “That sounds like a great alternative. I appreciate your help.”

She prints him out a boarding pass and a hotel receipt, only to turn to run smack into Mox.

“Jesus, you’re charming as fuck even in a stressful situation,” Mox says, grinning at him. “Ever turn it off?”

“You’ve seen what I do when I turn it off,” Adam says, refusing to meet his eyes. It’s unfortunate, then, that his gaze lingers on Mox’s lips. On the way his tee shirt gaps a little at the collar. “You get hung by a chain in front of thousands on a pay per view.”

Mox’s grin goes a little predatory. “Yeah. Anyway, hope your day sucks.”

“What? I – fine. You too. Prick.”

Mox winks at him and gets into line just in time for Adam to get a phone call he’s not going to be able to finish without plugging in his phone. So he, with CD on the other end of the line checking in on him, is privy to the shitshow in front of him.

“There’s no more hotel rooms?!” says the lady who had been standing a few people behind him. He remembers she was the one loudly listening to videos on her phone in between complaining. “Then find me a different one!”

“Ma’am, there are no more hotel rooms we are able to –”

“Well that’s your fault, isn’t it?!” she shrieks. She turns to the line of people behind her. “Aren’t you all just as angry? We want to get home! We paid good money for these tickets!” She turns back to the attendant. “Are you the most competent person I can deal with? Do they only hire idiots?”

“Chris, I gotta go,” Adam mutters into the phone. “I’m good, though, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Alright, Hanger.” Chris sounds skeptical, which is fair, but he hangs up anyway.

Adam’s in the process of standing up to go give the lady a piece of his mind when Mox steps out of line to swagger up to the complainer. “Yo, lady, I’m not sure what your problem is, but you don’t see any of us acting like toddlers who didn’t get a cookie.” He does that stance, arms behind his back, like he’s daring someone to hit him. “Chill out.”

“I,” she says, “am a very important oil executive, sir, and I have places to be. People require my presence to complete their jobs.” She looks Mox up and down, taking in his ratty jacket, ripped jeans, and faded tee shirt. Her eyes linger on the scars on his forehead. “I can see you don’t have much experience in that arena.”

Mox scoffs. “Lady, I’m a wrestler. Like a pro one? Like on TV? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty sure I’m just as whatever as you are and I’m not being a bitch.”

Adam snickers into his hand. It’s not quiet enough – Mox glances over his shoulder and grins at Adam. “See? That guys a wrestler, too. And he was perfectly civil. So you can grow the fuck up and act like a human or you can keep this up and I’ll put you in a headlock.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says. Adam knows that face. She’s trying to call Mox’s bluff. Adam giggles again.

“Hey, Cowboy,” Mox says, “what did I do to you in that match?”

“Before I choked you out with a chain?” Adam asks. “You tried to break my hand between two bricks.”

“Right,” Mox says. He turns back to the lady, whose face has turned a weird shade of green. “So, like, if you’re gonna go after this nice person trying to help you, I kinda hope you go full on nutjob and jump the counter. I’d love give you a suplex onto the floor.”

Adam’s full on laughing as the lady sputters some nonsense. She snatches the boarding pass that the flight attendant had been holding out for her and stomps off. “I hope you get a concussion,” she snarls at Mox and Adam as she leaves.

“Been there, done that, lady,” Mox calls after her.

Adam lets the laughter fade. “You got a way of handling assholes, that’s for sure.”

“Only way I’ve survived being coworkers with you,” Mox says. “I’m fucked, though. Stuck sleeping on airplane chairs like it’s 2003 again.”

Adam practically sees his options scatter across his vision. Take the hotel room and enjoy a night to himself. Offer the room to Mox and be stuck here. Give the hotel room to someone else so they’re both miserable together.

Or.

“I mean, you can come with me,” Adam says. “I’m sure we can avoid killing each other for a night so we can both get decent sleep.”

Mox stares at him for a second. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” Adam says, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “Just saying you could be, like, not a weird martyr and take the comfortable option.” He’s about to walk away, hand on his rolling carryon, when Mox sighs.

“I like that you think spending time with you is better than being stuck in an airport,” Mox says, but he grabs his carryon and starts walking. Adam falls into pace next to him.

“Dick,” Adam says, grinning. “You look like you’re coming with me, though, so I’d say I’m better than an airport.”

“I’m too fuckin’ old to try and sleep on airplane carpet,” Mox says, rolling his shoulders. “Plus, I got that GCW match on Sunday and I really don’t want to be fucked up for it.”

“Oh, right,” Adam says, sliding out of the way for a family of what appears to be four thousand blocking the path, “because a GCW match requires tip top shape to get bludgeoned to death with a trash can.”

Mox stares at him. “We just bludgeoned you and your boys with worse than trash cans, so I have no idea where this high and mighty bullshit is coming from.”

Adam opens his mouth to argue before realizing, annoyed, that Mox is right. “Well shit.”

Navigating the airport to get to the hotel is easier than Adam had thought, but with a chattering Mox behind him making commentary on everything it’s less smooth.

“Do you ever shut up?” Adam asks as they settle in line at the hotel. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve said anything in ten minutes, but you’ve spoken a novel’s worth.”

Mox shrugs. “I’m fidgety. I talk when I’m fidgety. That a problem for you?”

“If you talk in your fuckin’ sleep, it is,” Adam says, but he’s sure to smile to make it sound like less of a death threat. The people in front of them in line keep looking back at them, concerned. Adam doesn’t want the cops called on him. “Now shut up for, like, two minutes while I get checked in.”

“You better ask for two beds,” Mox says. “I ain’t cuddling with you, Cowboy.”

“I’m sure there’s two queens,” Adam replies.

Mox giggles.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Just, if there’s two queens, it’s the Bucks, right?”

Adam kicks him in the shins.

“And there’s a king bed in this room,” says the attendant when he gets his key cards.

Adam blinks. “I’m – just a king bed?”

“Yes, sir,” she says. “It’s the only room left.”

“Alright,” Adam says. He’ll sleep in the bathtub if he comes to it. Anything to get this shit show over with. “Yeah, it’ll work. I appreciate the help.”

Mox steps in pace with him, like a puppy learning how to heel, as Adam makes his way to the elevator. “So, we gonna fight on who gets the bed?”

“I’ll sleep in the tub if it means you shut up,” Adam deadpans, pressing the button for the elevator.

Mox slides into the elevator, and grabs Adam’s carryon to move it with him. Adam’s…confused, but appreciative. “I was kidding about the cuddling bit,” Mox says. “I mean, you’re letting me stay in your hotel room. I’ll sleep in the tub or on the floor.”

“That can’t be much better than an airport carpet,” Adam says. He checks the key card – fourth floor, room 451. Before he can press the button, Mox has reaches out and practically punched the button for number 4.

Mox is quiet for a few minutes, long enough to make Adam wonder what he’s planning. “Or,” Mox says as the elevators doors open. He grabs Adam’s carryon again and hauls both suitcases down the hallway. Adam decides not to mention his has wheels – he kind of wants to see how long it’ll take Mox to notice. “I mean, we can share. The bed, I mean. If you’re okay with that.”

Adam considers it as they walk down the hallway. “You’re not gonna try and cuddle me, are you?”

“I – that was a joke, you fuckwit,” Mox says. “And you could thank me for carrying your bag all the way here.”

“First off, it rolls, so you didn’t have to carry it,” Adam says, sliding the key card into the lock on the door. “Second, I didn’t ask you to carry my bag.”

“I had to,” Mox says. Adam barely gets the chance to push open the door before Mox is hauling all their bags and throwing them into the room with zero ceremony or care. “It was the nice thing to do.”

Adam shuts the door behind the two of them. “You saying that right after chucking the bags into a wall feels weird.”

Mox shrugs and throws himself onto the bed, arms behind his head. “What, you want me to, like, apologize or something? Did you have something breakable in there?”

Adam shakes his head as he carefully unzips his boots and sets them neatly next to the desk. “Just wondering what the fuck goes on in that weird head of yours.”

“You don’t get to call me weird,” Mox says, and he’s grinning when Adam glances over at him. “You’re just as much of a freak as me, Cowboy.”

Adam throws the pillow from the chair at Mox and sits down. “Am not.”

“Oh, so the whole hanging me using a chain is normal behavior to you?” Mox shifts, grinning at Adam. “Wrapping barbed wire around yourself like a fuckin’ corset is vanilla in your world? I’d hate to see what you’d consider freaky, then.”

Adam adjusts in the seat, desperate to lay down but not ready to cross that bridge with Mox. “I’m sure you would Mox.”

They’re quiet for a moment, as Adam tries to figure out if getting up will be seen as an offensive maneuver. Then Mox groans and stretches, his arms above his head on the bed. He grips the bars of the headboard, which Adam tries not to think too much about. “Well, Cowboy,” he groans, “if we’re gonna act like an old married couple and share the same bed, least I can do is wash the airport offa me. I’m gonna go shower.”

Adam nods, because there’s not much else he can really do. “I, uh. Appreciate it?”

“You should,” Mox says, swaggering over to the shower. He pulls his shirt off and throws it on top of his luggage. Adam recognizes a fresh scar on Mox’s back as one he placed there with barbed wire. He ignores the voice in his head that growls mine at the sight. “I’m a fuckin’ saint.”

“I absolutely wouldn’t go that far,” Adam laughs, but he follows Mox with his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom, allowing himself to look at the way Mox’s ass fills out the jeans.

Adam’s halfway through his compulsive daily email clear out when a noise jolts him out of his focus.

He looks around the room for the source, only to see an outdated phone buzzing on top of Mox’s bag.

“Mox,” Adam yells, “Mox, your phone’s ringing!”

Adam stands and walks over to the phone to pick it up. He wouldn’t normally impose, but he glances at the screen and it’s Tony’s number. “Dude,” Adam says again. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.”

The phone stops ringing and Adam relaxes. And then it starts up again.

“Asshole,” Adam grumbles, almost stomping down the short hallway to the bathroom. “Hey dickhead!” he yells, and he’s surprised when the door swings open under his grip.

He should have remembered he’s never been in this bathroom before.

He should have remembered this is Jon Moxley.

He should have remembered that boner he popped during Anarchy in the Arena.

The shower is in perfect view of the door, so he can’t even act like he can’t see what’s in front of him. He feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Here to join?” Mox asks. His hand is curled around his cock, grinning over at Adam through the water droplets on the glass shower door.

“No,” Adam says, averting his eyes, a little too late, “uh. Here.” He shoves the phone toward Mox. “It’s Tony.”

“Tell him we’re having a sleepover and he can wait,” Mox says. Adam can sense that Mox is moving, and he’s not strong enough to imagine the kind of movement. “I’m busy.”

“It’s the second time he’s called in, like, four minutes,” Adam says. He moves to stare at the wall, but all that happens is he locks eyes with Mox through the mirror. He fights the urge to run or whimper or something else he doesn’t allow himself to think about too hard. “Just fuckin’ answer it.”

Mox groans and turns off the shower. “Asshole.”

“Dickhead,” Adam replies, and he hustles out of there like his life depends on it.

Mox comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later followed by steam. Adam is unable to ignore the fact that he’s not wearing anything but a towel around his waist.

Adam had waffled between what to do, and ended up sitting on the bed stiffly, still fully dressed, with a book in his hand. He’s made it through two pages and didn’t understand any of it.

“Tony was just freaking out about if I was gonna get home or not,” Mox says. Adam intentionally doesn’t look at the way the water leaves trails down his chest, his back, his arms. He doesn’t look at how low the towel is on Mox’s hips, on the perfect lines of muscle making a V at the bottom of his torso. “Since he booked the flights he got the notification of the cancellation and I,” he rolls his eyes, “am the only one who didn’t check in with CD, so he was freaking out.”

Adam swallows, forcing himself to stare at the wall behind Mox. “You chill him out?”

Mox nods, stretching, and Adam’s eyes snap right back to that chest of Mox’s. “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Mox says. “Freaks out about everything, Tony. Told him we’re bunking together.”

That’s enough for Adam to set his book down. “How’d he react to that?”

Mox laughs, twisting. Adam finds himself wondering how tightly the towel is tied, if Mox is still hard under there. “Tony freaked out, like always. Wanted to know if we planned on killing each other.”

“It’s not off the table,” Adam replies, adjusting his glasses and going back to the book.

Adam feels the bed shift as Mox sits at the foot of the bed. “Yeah? Planning on strangling me in your sleep?”

Adam looks up to see Mox grinning at him. “Already strangled you once,” Adam says, flipping the page like he’s been able to take in a single word since Mox walked out of the bathroom. “Figured I’d try something new.”

Mox huffs. “Yeah? You been thinkin’ about killing me?”

“No,” Adam says. He sets down the book. “But, you know. Always have ideas in my back pocket.”

Mox studies his face for a moment. “Ideas?”

Adam nods. He’s not sure where this is going. “Yeah. Ideas.”

The silence feels heavy for a second, and Adam’s pretty sure he’s seconds away from doing something stupid when Mox says, “I like the glasses.”

Adam blinks. “Oh,” he says, taken off guard by the compliment. “Uh. Thanks?”

“You don’t have to act all weird about it,” Mox says. “They’re – they look good. Real studious and shit.”

Adam laughs. “High praise from a man whose wardrobe is his own merch.”

“It’s my merch because I like it,” Mox says. He leans back on the bed. His head is level with Adam’s knees. “Course I’ll wear it.”

“You don’t see me in Hangman shirts all the time,” Adam says.

“No, but you were those, uh, those button downs. Very yeehaw. Cowboy shit, right? You dress the part.” He reaches out and pats Adam’s leg. “Even your jeans are all cowboy.”

Adam tries not to flinch or burn at the touch. “I – thank you?”

Mox rolls over. “Are you okay? You’re all tense?”

Adam opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again and says, before he can stop it, “What are you doing?”

Mox stares. “Huh?”

“Like, you talk all the time, I know that, but you’re like.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know. Trying to be friendly.”

Mox’s face falls, and Adam practically watches him close in on himself as he scrambles to his feet. He can’t explain why his heart clenches at it, only that it does. “Oh.”

“No!” Adam says. “I – no, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just I didn’t expect it. Especially after I walked in on you –” Adam cuts himself off, because saying, ‘walked in on you jacking it’ feels a little too real for whatever’s happening.

Mox’s expression shifts incredibly slowly, from confusion to understanding to amusement. “Oh,” he says, drawing out the syllable. “Oh, you walked in on me with my hand on my dick and you freaked out.”

Adam wills himself not to turn red. He doesn’t think it’s working. “I didn’t freak out.” He forces himself to look up and meet Mox’s eyes, blue and bright. “I tried to be professional about it.”

“Yeah?” Mox says. “What if I didn’t want you to be professional about it?”

Adam’s eyes flicker from Mox’s eyes to his mouth before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Fuck a coworker in a hotel room. That’s great.”

“A coworker?” Mox says, pouting. He puts his hand to his heart. “I’m hurt. I’m at least an arch nemesis at this point, right?”

“Fine, fuck an arch nemesis,” Adam says, and he can’t fight the grin. “But that’s a bad idea, right?”

“Interesting,” Mox says. “You’re not saying no, you don’t want to. You’re saying no, it’s unprofessional? Weird stance to take when everybody knows what you and Cole were doing before your Revolution match.”

Adam shrugs and tries to act like he knew everyone was aware of what he and Cole get up to. “We have a history together. It’s what we’ve always done before matches.”

“You always blow him before a match?” Mox says. “I gotta get that on the schedule for our matches. Sounds nice.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Adam says, but he can’t deny that the picture of Mox with his cock in his hand, that grin on his lips, is burned into his memory. “But I get what you’re doing now. This your seduction technique?”

“Not usually,” Mox says, and he stands, hand going to the place where the towel is tucked in on itself. Adam wants to pull at it. “But I figured, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Adam licks his lips before he can stop himself. “Desperate, huh? You look it.”

“Excuse me,” Mox says, and he finally throws the towel to the ground. “You’re the one staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

“You walked out of the shower with nothing but a towel and started talking about our boss as a weird segue to flirting,” Adam says, and he hopes Mox doesn’t notice the way he spreads his legs, just a little. His hands are threatening to start shaking with anticipation as Mox climbs on the bed.

He is still hard.

“I’ll have you know my flirting is far more than just words.”

Adam can’t move and doesn’t want to as Mox leans in and kisses him, a hand on the side of his neck. It’s gentler than he would have expected, less insistent, and Adam rests a hand on Mox’s hip and pulls him down. His skin is damp and warm, and Adam grabs at it like a lifeline as Mox’s tongue slides across the seam of his lips.

Adam makes an involuntary little squeak and Mox pulls back.

“What?” he asks. “You good? Too much?”

Adam shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. Jesus, ask one thing at a time.”

Mox grins at him. “Oh, I like you flustered.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb across Adam’s bottom lip. It’s devastating. “You good?”

Adam nods, Mox’s thumb catching on his upper lip. “I’m good,” he says. He’s already breathless, like he’s a horny teenager. This would be embarrassing if he weren’t so into it. “I just – not what I expected, you know?”

Mox shrugs. “Nah, but when the opportunity arises.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Is that a dick joke?” Adam asks. “Of course you’d make a dick joke right now.”

“What, I should make a fuckin’ – what else rises? A sun joke?” Mox asks. “Stay in the moment, Cowboy.”

“You stay in the –” But Adam’s cut off by a kiss, this one a bit less gentle.

He grips at Mox’s sides again, then flips them before Mox can react. Mox makes a funny little sound and adds teeth into the kiss, catching Adam’s lower lip, and Adam can’t help it. He moans into it.

Mox’s hands slide under and up his shirt, scratching at his back in a way that makes him kiss harder, press his leg between Mox’s legs. He chances a hand along Mox’s thigh, not getting too close, not until Mox says so.

Mox pulls his mouth away. “Fuck, Cowboy, you a tease, too? Grab my cock already.”

“Jesus,” Adam laughs, “you could be, like, a little romantic about it.”

“Oh, and you walking in on me jerking off just to give me my phone with my boss on the other line is romantic?!” Mox says.

“Okay,” Adam says, reaching up to spit in his hand, “to be fair, I didn’t know that’s what you were doing.” He curls his hand around Mox’s cock, laughing at the way Mox’s face relaxes, the way his head drops against the pillows. “Believe me,” Adam says, lips at Mox’s ear. He catches Mox’s earlobe between his teeth. “If I’d know that’s what you were doing, maybe I would have joined you.”

Mox lets out a fascinating little whine at the way Adam twists his hand. “Oh, I like this side of you,” he laughs.

Adam strokes gently, careful not to give too much pressure, too much friction. He’s still fully clothed. He’s not going to let Mox have all the fun. “Yeah?” Adam says.

Mox nods. “Hey, wait, you – too much clothes. Get naked.”

“No fuckin’ romance,” Adam laughs under his breath, but he leans back and pulls his shirt off over his head. He looks down to see Mox staring at him. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Just looking,” Mox says. “You got a chance to look at me naked, I’m just returning the favor.” Adam tries not to squirm under Mox’s gaze. “Hot. Alright, pants.”

With an eye roll, Adam unbuckles his jeans and rolls off of Mox, shoving his pants and boxers down his hips in one move. Mox stares at his dick and licks his lips. “Goddamn,” he says, voice low and pupils blown, “that Hung Bucks thing isn’t a joke, is it?”

Adam rolls his eyes and pretends he isn’t blushing as he gets back onto the bed and on top of Mox. As much as he didn’t see this as how his day would end, he’s enjoying it.

“Hey,” Mox says, grabbing a handful of Adam’s ass, “what if we take this to the shower?”

Adam pulls back from where he’d been working a bruise into Mox’s neck. “Shower?”

“It’s big,” Mox says, “Got some little seat things.”

Adam stares at him. “You don’t want to leave wet spots on the bed, huh.”

“There’s only one bed.” He wrinkles his nose. “We fuck here, things’ll get wet. One of us would be stuck sleeping in it.”

Adam pushes himself off the bed and walks to the shower. “For once in your life, you’re making sense.”

“You know this was my idea, right?” Mox says, following him. He puts his hands on Adam’s hips, half steering him to the bathroom. Adam finds he likes being manhandled like this a little bit. “You could be a little nicer about it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Something tells me nice isn’t what you actually like.”

“Am I that predictable?”

Adam laughs as gets the shower started, the water turning warm quicker than he expected, and he steps under the stream. He hears Mox step in after him and then big hands span his stomach from behind him. He shivers under the touch. He has to fight the urge to push Mox off, used to those hands causing harm. But right now he’s gentle, warm, and Adam’s got to loosen up a little.

“Breathe, Cowboy,” Mox says into Adam’s ear, “not gonna hurt you.”

Adam laughs. “You sure about that?”

“I mean, unless you’re into it.” He punctuates it with a nip to Adam’s neck, sending sparkles through Adam’s vision. “But, nah. Just gonna do this.” He slides his hand down Adam’s body and wraps it around Adam’s dick. Adam drops his head backward, resting his head against Mox’s neck. A part of him is screaming to push away and run, but it’s a part that is way quieter than the part screaming fuck me.

“God, that’s good,” Adam mumbles before he can stop himself. He rolls his hips into the circle of Mox’s calloused fingers. “Fuck, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah?” Mox says, lips on Adam’s neck. “How long? With who?

“Me – fuck – me and Kenny used to fuck around a lot, happened once a few weeks ago, when – do that again, yeah – I went back with the Elite…” He trails off, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into the feeling, gripping at Mox’s hip hard enough to leave fingernail marks.

Mox laughs. “Maybe I bring you to the rest of Blackpool,” he murmurs. “I think you’d have a good time. Yoots might be kinda young, but he fucks like an animal.”

Adam laughs. “Yeah?” He turns to catch Mox’s mouth, pushing him backward against the wall of the shower. He’s grateful for the space, for the room in here to really move Mox around. “Knew I was right about that circle jerk shit, you horny motherfuckers.”

“Hey, you’re benefitting from this horny motherfucker, so you better not complain,” Mox says. “I’m gonna blow you now, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he lets Mox press him up against the wall. “Fuck yeah.”

Adam watches as Mox sinks to his knees and grins up at him. He should say something, do something, but all he can do is breathe heavily and wait.

“You look good from this angle,” Mox says, and then his mouth is around the head of Adam’s cock and, frankly, Adam forgets how to think.

Mox is focused and determined as he works his tongue and lips around Adam in a way he hadn’t realized Mox could be out of the ring. Then again, he muses, as Mox reaches up to grip at Adam’s thighs, this isn’t far out of the realm. He giggles before he can stop himself.

“Are you laughing at me?!” Mox exclaims, pulling off of Adam’s cock. “Look, I don’t know shit about etiquette or whatever but I’m pretty sure laughing at the guy sucking your dick is bad manners.”

“Not at you,” Adam chokes out. “Just. Look, dude, this is a far cry from us and our friends trying to kill each other back at Double or Nothing, you know?” He runs his thumb along Mox’s cheekbone. “You look pretty both ways, though.”

Mox rolls his eyes at him. “You’re fuckin’ weird. I can’t believe I want to fuck you.” He shakes his head and dives back to wrap his mouth around Adam.

Adam closes his eyes and rolls into it, letting the feeling take him over. This is far different than what he gets up to with the other guys in the back rooms. This feels like they have all the time in the world, like they don’t have to worry or rush. Like Mox has all the time in the world, and he’s going to take it.

He pushes at Mox’s shoulder. “Get up here, I wanna kiss you.”

Mox stands and crashes into Adam, and Adam shivers a little at the taste of himself on Mox’s tongue. He reaches behind himself to get some of the cheap hotel conditioner and fumbles to cover his hand with it.

“Are you washing your hair right now?” Mox turns.

“No, dipshit, I’m gonna grab your dick,” Adam replies. He reaches down between the two of them. Mox is a little too far away, so Adam grabs his hips and pulls him closer so he can wrap a hand around both of their cocks at once. Mox lets out the prettiest little moan at it, a hand flying up next to Adam’s head to brace himself against the wall.

“Jesus,” Mox mumbles. He circles his hips in a way that makes his cock slide against Adam’s with just enough friction to make his head spin. “Kinda glad that our flight got cancelled now.”

Adam laughs, meeting Mox’s movements. “Yeah? There are definitely worse ways to spend a layover.” He glances up to see Mox’s tongue between his teeth, eyes locked on the way their cocks slide against each other. He can’t resist it – he leans in and catches Mox’s lips in his, swallowing the moan that follows.

He focuses on the sensations, the feelings, the sound of Mox’s breathing and of their dicks sliding against each other. That part of him that thinks this is a terrible idea keeps trying to get loud, but he shuts it up every time his lips meet Mox’s.

He feels it build slowly, like the water that trails down Mox’s forehead, in the base of his spine.

“Fuck,” Adam pants, “Mox, I’m close, I gotta –”

“Yeah, Cowboy, I got you.” Mox slides his hand around Adam’s, their fingers tangling, and that’s enough to send Adam over the edge.

He gasps, without meaning to, “Mox,” as he comes all over both of their hands, rocking his hips up to ride it out.

“God, that’s pretty,” Mox mumbles. He gets a little reckless and frantic, and he leans in to kiss Adam as he comes, biting down on Adam’s lower lip. Adam whines at it, and he has to work to make sure he doesn’t slip down the wall.

Mox rests his forehead against Adam’s and they stand there, gasping, as they come down from the moment. Adam realizes after a few moments that Mox is trailing his knuckles gently along Adam’s biceps. It’s sweet. It’s confusing. Adam doesn’t want it to stop.

“Cowboy,” Mox murmurs, pressing his lips to the side of Adam’s neck, “you fallin’ asleep or something?”

“No,” Adam says. He sighs before he can stop himself. “Just – enjoying the moment.”

Mox’s laugh is soft, almost sweet. It doesn’t match the man Adam’s run into over and over again, but it feels right. “Yeah, me too. But we’re gonna get all wrinkly if we stay here.” He steps away, and Adam is suddenly very cold. It fades quickly, though, as Mox adjusts the showerhead to spray warm water on both of them.

“Gotta wash my hair,” Adam mumbles, fumbling for the shampoo.

“Let me,” Mox says.

Adam actually does get close to falling asleep as Mox gently massages his hair. “This soap smells good,” he mumbles. “Gotta stay in an airport hotel more often.”

Mox laughs and Adam’s pretty sure he presses a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck. “It’s probably just some sort of drug store shampoo, baby, don’t get too fancy about it.”

Adam sighs, just a little, at the nickname, and wants to hold onto it.

They finish washing up and drying off in near silence, a few words here and there scattered around, until they both drowsily curl into bed.

“Scoot,” Mox says, pushing his butt up against Adam, “we’re cuddling.”

“I thought you said no cuddling,” Adam mumbles, throwing an arm around Mox’s waist.

“That was before I saw what you look like when you come,” Mox replies. He sounds like he’s already nearly asleep. “Now we got a bond. So you gotta cuddle me.”

It’s not flawless logic, Adam thinks. But he’s cozy and warm, and he’ll let it slide.

Mini Playlist: Magnets - Lorde, Disclosure Familiar - Liam Payne, J Balvin I Want It - Two Feet Talking Body - Tove Lo

#HangMox #in which Sara writes #wtf i like wrestling now???#Hehehe here have this #This is dumb #anxious millennial dreamboat #madly in love with leather daddy jon moxley

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