#Acoustic Boards for wall

[tranquilglobal]

Acoustic Boards for Walls are ideal for Sound Control in Different Settings

Acoustic Boards for Walls are essential elements in creating a sound-controlled environment. One of the most effective ways to manage sound is through the use of Acoustic Panels and Acoustic Wall Panels. These design elements not only improve sound quality but also enhance the aesthetic appeal of any room.

When it comes to noise management, it’s not just about blocking sound from entering or leaving a space. It’s about creating an environment where the sound is clear, balanced, and comfortable. Acoustic Boards for Walls offering a solution that addresses both the visual and auditory aspects of a space. These boards are made of specially designed materials that absorb sound waves, reducing noise and echoes.

The difference between Acoustic Panels, Acoustic Wall Panels, and Acoustic Board Panels lies in their functionality and placement. Acoustic panels typically refer to any board or material used to improve sound quality in a room. Acoustic Wall Panels are specifically designed to be mounted on walls which is aesthetically pleasing with sound absorption. They help to reduce sound reflection and prevent noise from traveling too far. The term Acoustic Board Panels is often used interchangeably with these, indicating that these boards are typically larger and can be used in various configurations to optimize sound quality.

Aesthetic Appeal Meets Functionality

In recent years, the design of Acoustic Boards for Walls has evolved to become more stylish, customizable and integrated with interior aesthetics. While their primary function is to absorb sound, these boards are now available in a variety of colors, shapes, and textures to complement any space. This means you no longer have to choose between functionality and style; Acoustic Wall Panels can do both.

From sleek, modern designs to textured, artistic options, there is a wide range of Acoustic Board Panels to choose from. Many manufacturers now offer panels that can be custom designed to match the décor of any room. Whether you want a minimalist look or prefer bold, statement-making designs, Acoustic Boards for Walls can blend seamlessly into your interior design.

Sound Control in Different Settings

Acoustic Panels are versatile and can be used in various settings. They are especially beneficial in spaces where sound quality is critical.

Offices and Workspaces: Open-plan offices and coworking spaces often struggle with noise distractions. Acoustic Wall Panels can be strategically placed to create quieter zones and reduce background noise.

Home Theaters and Media Rooms: For an optimal viewing experience, sound clarity is essential. Acoustic Board Panels can significantly enhance audio quality by preventing sound distortion and echoing. These panels ensure that the sound stays within the room, making your movie nights or gaming sessions more immersive.

Recording Studios: In a recording environment, clarity and precision are paramount. Using Acoustic Boards for Walls can help fine-tune the sound quality, eliminating unwanted reverberation and echoes.

Educational and Conference Rooms: In spaces where communication is key, such as classrooms or conference rooms, Acoustic Wall Panels can improve speech intelligibility and reduce background noise.

Practical Considerations for Choosing Acoustic Solutions

When selecting Acoustic Boards for Walls, there are several practical factors to consider. The first is the type of sound you want to control. If you're dealing with high-frequency sound, such as voices or chatter, you'll need panels that are effective at absorbing these frequencies.

The size and shape of the room also play a significant role in determining how many Acoustic Panels you'll need. Larger spaces may require more panels or larger Acoustic Wall Panels to adequately control the sound. Additionally, the location of the panels is crucial for maximum effectiveness. Installing Acoustic Board Panels at specific points in the room, such as the reflection points on the walls, can significantly enhance the overall sound quality.

Another consideration is the material used in the Acoustic Board Panels. Most panels are made from sound-absorbing materials like foam, fiberglass, or polyester. The material choice affects the panel's effectiveness, durability, and aesthetic appeal. Some materials are more effective at absorbing sound across a broad range of frequencies, while others may be better suited for controlling specific types of sound.

Sustainability and Durability

With growing interest in eco-friendly design, many manufacturers of Acoustic Panels are now offering sustainable options. These panels are made from recyclable materials, contributing to a greener environment. In addition, Acoustic Wall Panels made from durable materials ensure that they last for years, providing long-term sound control without the need for frequent replacements.

Easy Installation and Maintenance

Another advantage of Acoustic Board Panels is that they are easy to install and maintain. Many panels come with adhesive backing or can be mounted with simple hardware, making the installation process quick and hassle-free. Additionally, Acoustic Wall Panels require minimal maintenance. Occasional cleaning is usually sufficient to maintain their appearance and effectiveness.

Conclusion

Acoustic Boards for Walls are more than just sound control solutions—they are a vital part of creating spaces that are functional, comfortable, and aesthetically pleasing. With their sleek designs and customizable options, Acoustic Wall Panels can enhance the look of any room while serving their practical purpose.

Incorporating Acoustic Board Panels into your design not only improves sound quality but also contributes to a more harmonious and efficient environment. So, when planning your next interior design project, consider the importance of sound control and invest in Acoustic Panels to achieve the perfect balance of form and function.

[divinopanels]

Introducing the New Divino Sample Box | Premium. Compact. Sustainable.

We’re excited to unveil our all-new Divino Sample Box wooden wall panels—a refined presentation designed to elevate your client experience and embody the essence of our brand. What’s inside? * Sleek, premium & compact design – For a more elevated, clutter-free showcase. * Separate Foil Booklet – Featuring 10+ exquisite new finishes to inspire richer selections. * Greener by Design – Made with recycled paper, marked as a nod to our sustainable ethos. This is more than just a sample kit—it’s a statement piece crafted to reflect our commitment to design, innovation, and the environment.

[abi-acousticboardindia]

ABI - Acoustic Board India® is a premier manufacturer and supplier of advanced acoustic solutions, delivering innovative soundproofing and noise control systems across India. We specialize in high-performance acoustic panels, including polyester fiber boards, wooden grooved and perforated slats, fabric-wrapped panels, wooden acoustic ceilings, and auditorium flooring. Our products are engineered to enhance sound quality, reduce noise pollution, and elevate the aesthetics of any space.

With a strong focus on functionality and design, ABI caters to a wide range of sectors including cinemas, offices, studios, schools, auditoriums, and conference rooms. Each solution is tailored to meet client-specific acoustic needs while maintaining visual harmony with interior themes. Backed by quality craftsmanship, timely delivery, and expert consultation, ABI ensures optimal acoustic performance in every project. Choose Acoustic Board India® for reliable, elegant, and efficient sound solutions.

📍 Address: Plot No- F93 Sector-135, Noida, Uttar Pradesh-201304

📞 Phone:9999010084

📧 Email: acousticboardindia100@gmail.com

🌐 Website: https://acousticboardindia.com 

[nanotheareacoustic]

Equip Your Home Theatre With The Finest Acoustics

When we set up a home theatre it is very important to equip it with the finest acoustics -to keep your stress at bay.

Purple Wave brings to you the world’s finest acoustic panelling- designed to elevate your audio experience. Because sound is key to an unforgettable home theatre experience.

With our more than perfect acoustic panelling, all sound leakages, rever berations are taken well care of- amplifying the sound to the desired level while keeping your conversations private.

Our high quality acoustic panelling delivers the best audio performance, and coupled with the 3D visuals- the home theatre experience is absolutely worthwhile!

For optimal sound clarity and superior acoustic designs, you are invited to call us and we will organize a demonstration of the same!

We care for our customers- which reflects in all the meticulous installations that we design.

For home theatre acoustic wall panels, home theatre acoustic work, acoustic home theatre system, acoustic material for home theatre, feel free to contact us!

Acoustic Tv wall

Acoustic panelling

Acoustical door

Acoustic home theatre system

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Home theatre acoustic work

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Acoustic curtains for home theatre

Acoustic wall panel for home cinema

Acoustic panel home theatre

Acoustic panel for Home theatre in India

Acoustic for home theatre India

Acoustic sound deadening panels

Acoustical foam, Acoustic board

Visit: 

Add: Plot 1, near Police Station, Pocket A2, Pocket B, Sector 17 Dwarka, Dwarka, New Delhi, Delhi, 110075

Call: 18003090352

[raghavgypsonite]

Modernize Your Space with MDF Acoustic Slat Solutions

Discover stylish and effective MDF acoustic slat panels for noise reduction and contemporary design. Ideal for homes and offices and Perfect for modern interiors. Shop Now! and make your space much more vibrant and aesthetic. For more info you can visit our website or contact us. Website:

[noiseproblems]

What is acoustic underlay?

Acoustic underlay is an extra layer placed between the floor and the subfloor itself. They rest right below the tile, carpet or wood of the floor on which you walk on. Floor underlays assist to lessen any minor flaws in the subfloor for a flat and even surface, while also enabling the floor some space to expand and contract with moisture and changes in temperature. Floor underlays also assist to soften the impact of footsteps and lessen noise transferred to the level below.

While all kinds of floor underlays offer some noise reduction advantages, it is frequently not sufficient to completely block out the noise from above. If you have ever worked or lived in a place within walls where it is possible to hear the conversation next door, then you know how irritating outdoor noise can be and how valuable it is to have some privacy with sound boards for walls.

Why should we care about noise reduction?

There are several reasons why sound reduction is so vital. Let’s say you are working in an office building with inferior acoustic quality of the acoustic flooring. The constant buzz of activity around you can be extremely distracting. Nobody wants to hear all the foot traffic overhead from their colleagues on the top floor, or listen to the phone calls where everyone is trying to talk with each other.

Commence by removing the current floor and sweeping away any dirt from the job site. Make sure to remove all the small dust particles and also the bigger obstructions. You might want to vacuum or dust the flooring and also to make sure the safest fit. Put the flooring on the top, allow it to sit for a while, and you are done with your flooring with a sound board theater. You will have lovely and serene floors in no time!

[chuulyssa]

jealous monster trio + law and ace x reader

a/n. not proofread!! i wrote this on my phone in the middle of watching a movie ong. idk why there aren't many dialogues in ace and law's part, but im lowkey pleased with how everything turned out

tags. fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship

crack tags. sanji gets a nosebleed (again), sanji tries to steal you away, sanji (that's it, that's the warning), marco bepo and robin are the best matchmakers, nami robs someone 😴

luffy wasn't the type to be overly possessive about the things he liked. growing up with two brothers, he had learned to share all mundane things in his life; his clothes, his blanket, even his toothbrush.

but not you.

luffy didn't understand the feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of you working out with zoro in the crow's nest. it was nice to stay healthy, right? that was what he had thought when he saw you reject his offer to play board games with him. he watched you walk away and up to the crow's nest where the swordsman practically lived, and sulkily climbed his special seat on the head of the sunny.

"oi, luffy! come down," usopp called out from the deck, and he glanced at the latter. "robin's telling us another story of the ancient civilizations of the west blue!"

"i'm not in the mood," luffy shouted back, still gazing wistfully at you.

he watched your face contort into one of pain when you moved to do the crunches, and zoro laughed at you before showing you how to breathe in the position as you lifted yourself back up.

"are you sure? i think you're just hungry!" usopp called again. "robin said we can have some of the special pancakes sanji made for her."

luffy stared back at his friend, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought hard. soon after, he yelled back, "i'll come down, give me one second!"

as you got back up from the crunch you were performing, you saw a long arm on the glass wall of the room and nearly screamed. luffy accidentally slammed his face into the wall, his cheeks comically enlarged as he spoke something incoherent to you. zoro rolled his eyes from beside you.

"i think he's saying break time is over. you've gotta go deal with him now."

.

zoro was rather secure in your relationship. he didn't mind it when other people commented about how nice you are, or about how pretty you look. he let it all slide, seeing as he knew all of the comments were true, and you deserved to know that. so he wasn't one to get mad when such things happened.

except when it came to the idiot cook.

it had been almost fifteen minutes past your usual time and you still hadn't shown up. zoro had gritted his teeth in the middle of a set and set out to find you. it didn't take him long, however, to figure out what was keeping you.

"my dear y/n, you must listened to this acoustic poem i have written in your name," the cook had one of your hands in his, blocking your way up to the crow's nest.

"i'm sure it's lovely, sanji, but i'm in a hurry right now--"

"ah, where, i wonder, must i look to find another beauty such as yourself--?"

"oi, cook! buzz off, will ya? no one wants you around," zoro's voice came from upstairs, and you turned to look at him.

the cook glared at him from behind you, but immediately pouted wistfully when you turned back at him. "don't say that, 'ro," you scolded, and the cook's face lit up at your words, eyes gleaming at the sight of zoro's annoyed look.

"i said what i said," zoro walked downstairs, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers when he reached you. "buzz off, prince of the perverts."

.

sanji is a little bit of an idiot. insecurity runs in his veins, and thus so does jealousy. you would have felt bad for him too, had he not been making you feel the same way since day one.

his face streamed with tears as he followed you around the marketplace. a few minutes earlier, you had caught him shooting to the sky with a nosebleed because of some poor woman's smile. he had landed right at your feet, the sight momentarily disarming you before you kicked his frame out of the way to walk.

it had been about half a minute of you ignoring him and he was on his hands and knees, begging for you to spare a glance at him. you would have felt bad, had this not been the fiftieth time in a week. you instead chose to turn to usopp, who had grown to learn to ignore sanji and his antics around women ever since they first met at the baratie. sanji's ears turned a bright red at your movement, and he clinged even harder at you

the two of you silently agreed to not wait for nami while she was busy robbing civilized people in a restaurant, and sped up at the looks the passersby were giving sanji, who was practically hanging onto your waist right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, angel, i know that's not gonna cut it but i beg for your humble forgiveness, i will not ever-"

"how do you deal with this moron?" usopp whispered to you, and you whispered back an "i don't know".

sanji kept mumbling things into your hips and pressing soft kisses into your waist, until you gave in when chopper hurried up to where you were, polaroids of your smile hanging around his neck; your boyfriend was just in rehab!

.

ace didn't think you looked half as good with anyone else but him. that is another way to say, he couldn't stand anyone who was within a certain radius from you. he wouldn't talk about it at all, and whenever you would bring it up he would play dumb.

but he hated it; not in a you're-mine-and-belong-to-me way but more in a im-just-a-boy-who-needs-external-validation-to-exist kinda way.

so he didn't like the way you were the only 'daughter' in whitebeard's crew among all the 'sons' who spoke about you like you were a trophy. he didn't like how you were placed under marco's division and not his. he didn't like how both whitebeard and marco laughed at him whenever they caught him looking at you.

after a particularly rough mission, the first division was having a blast with all the treasure they had managed to get back. ace looked at you with a longing pout on his face, about ten feet away from you. you were laughing with thatch at the moment, and he was busy fantasizing about how you would react if he carried you into your shared room on his shoulder, kissed the back of your nape and sucked hickeys to spell his name on your neck--

marco slapped the back of his head and his face fell into his plate with a loud crash.

"thank me later," marco said, eyes unwavering as the man in front of him fell asleep face-first into a plate full of food.

he went away as ace woke up shortly after, his face covered in curry, with men laughing at and mimicking him, but among all of them, his ears only heard the sound of your laughter before you quickly got up to hand him tissues.

.

law did not care. or at least, he pretended not to. after all, it had taken multiple tantrums from bepo to get him to confess to you, and even then he had made it clear he was not a fan of whatever you might have thought to be an 'ideal, loving relationship'.

that was, until today, when you had learned just how far you had to push his buttons to transform him into a romantic man. you could feel law's gaze on you as you laughed at whatever dumb thing luffy had just said, but when you turned around, he was busy conversing with robin about who knows what. once again, you turned to luffy, felt weird, turned back and saw nothing. for every minute you talked to the straw hat about something, you could feel law breathing down your neck, albeit in a subtle manner that no one but you seemed to catch.

"law," you finally came up to him, and he looked up at you as if he hadn't for ages. "is something wrong?"

"what makes you think so?" he challenged, and you could feel robin chuckle next to him. after shooting her a perplexed look, you shrugged and walked back to where the group was having fun, staying a bit closer to chopper this time, for luffy's safety.

it wasn't until the two of you had retreated back to your shared room for the night that you had realised what you felt had not been a hoax. law was on you the moment you lay next to him on the bed, nuzzling up to you and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

you were confused, to say the least, but you had a faint suspicion that this strange side of law was the idea of a certain archaeologist.

[getouyuri]

a house, a home, and a studio

pairing: producer!geto x rhythmist!reader x frontman!gojo

author’s note: a poly stsg x reader drabble for my special grade band au. just wanted to write a little bit of fluff (and procrastinate on everything else…) so I vomited this out into my notes.

writing © getouyuri. dividers © bronzewasp.

suguru had a home studio built into his place long before he finally started dating you and satoru.

the space is dimly lit by pendant lights that slash a warm ambient glow along the acoustic foam and shelves, with two plush chairs, one for himself and one for his clients, seated at the desk where his mixing board is stationed. there’s a thick glass panel above it that separates the control room that he sits in from the live room that the artists that he works with make magic in. lining the walls is state-of-the-art equipment, from the high-end speakers to the glass cases housing his instruments. uzumaki, the rhythm guitar he used when he was a member of SPECIAL GRADE, gleams the loudest and the brightest.

some days suguru’ll reenter the room to find all his audio files still pulled up and a track queued on the days that he works nonstop and barely leaves the room aside to get food and take a leak. on others, he’ll slip in after days of avoiding the siren call of music, and he has to lean down and shake his mouse to coax the monitor of his computer back to life.

it’s a nice studio and it has everything that he needs to get the job done. that’s all he requires. it’s simple. convenient.

but it’s made much cozier when you and gojo move into his little house in kyoto.

(even if both of your boys would drown out all the lingering misery that steeps your space, you don’t want to subject them to the sterile, cold loneliness of your apartment that you lived in for a decade. from your college days spent with your head in your books while satoru and suguru took to the stage, to your brief era of stardom as a solo swinging popstar, and to the then and now where you’re SPECIAL GRADE’s rhythmist… too many conflicting memories cling to it.

and satoru’s of the same mind. he had no interest in making his penthouse a permanent home for himself, nor for you and suguru. it’s well-decorated, but not at all lived in. it reeks of all the bad decisions that he almost always made at 2am and his groupies that he unfeelingly ‘entertained.’ a little bit like strawberry-flavored throat drops, too. merely stepping inside is enough to make satoru’s skin prickle with discomfort. it’s never been his real home— the hotels that you, yuki, sukuna, and satoru crash in while touring are more familiar to him than this place is.

so when suguru subtly hinted that he’d love for you two to shack up with him while staring way too intensely at the crossword puzzle he’d been working at, the tips of his ears rosy, you and satoru jumped to pack your bags.)

it’s unanimously decided that suguru’s studio is now your studio, a space for the three of you to unscramble your crazy minds and do what you do all best— make music. it’s also become a place of comfort.

but with only two chairs at the desk and no other surfaces to sit on that wouldn’t not make suguru sigh (every time you or satoru perched yourselves on the edge of the desk, suguru’s soul dramatically withered away just a little more), clearly, some renovating needed to be done so that all of you had a seat and a place to kick your feet up.

and renovate it you and satoru did.

what once was a dim, dusty corner that suguru swept every now and then is now ‘the nook.’ just above is a sprinkling of fairy lights, with a few transparent plastic clips fashioned onto the wire that hold your memories between their fragile teeth—

polaroids of the trio during their high school and college days, dazzling parties where you’re stupidly grinning despite the exhaustion in your eyes, suguru’s buzzed but staring at the camera as if daring it to make him blow on a breathalyzer, and satoru’s wearing those stupid new years party sunglasses with the year sitting atop the frames; of the trio shortly after graduation, shots of satoru and suguru tuning their instruments on tour, you being carted around on satoru’s back, suguru dozing with his head in your lap and the corner of the frame slightly obscured by satoru’s peace sign; of the trio spending the last year in a polyamorous relationship, all three of you flushed and curled up in bed like a litter of kittens, suguru’s birthday dinner where you and satoru kissed both of his cheeks for the photo, all of you cooped up in your car, the top down, at a drive-in-movie with the snacks that satoru bought strewn across all three of your laps. there’s even some pictures of you three in this very studio. everything’s immortalized in your precious 3.0635 x 3.125 polaroids.

there’s one massive, overstuffed bean bag that sags like a soup dumpling into the fuzzy rug below in ‘the nook.’ usually, it’s you and satoru sitting there, his legs slung over your lap or you lying entirely atop him with your back to his chest. suguru mans one of the chairs and you and satoru both settle into the bean bag for a long recording session.

on rare occasions, suguru sits there— like when satoru has a new song to surprise you both with. he steals suguru’s chair, clapping his hands for both of your attention. “welcome to gojo satoru’s music class,” he crows, “hosted by the illustrious, handsome, goliath of a rockstar, who has a massive—“

you usually cut him off by that point and tell him to get to the chase. satoru always amusedly rolls his eyes before strumming the nearest guitar, softly singing some song that has no business being on SPECIAL GRADE’s next pop-rock album. a song for just you and suguru. to you and suguru.

when you look up from the bean bag, the fairy lights and polaroids blur together into one happy bunch. the walls of ‘the nook’ are adorned with framed album covers and gold records, a testament to all three of your successful careers, together and separate. there’s even a mini-fridge tucked in next to the bean bag. satoru insisted that it was necessary— something about keeping all your yummy drinks and treats close. as if the kitchen isn’t just down the hallway from the studio.

long gone is the suffocating depression that used to dog each corner, scald suguru’s hands with cigarettes then frostily bite at the calloused skin with bottles of overpriced champagne. suguru may have had a home studio built into his place long before he finally started dating you and satoru, but you and satoru are what makes it feel like home and not just a studio. like a place made for work, for play, making memories and constructing silly but adoring love ballads, and stealing the sweetest of kisses from each other.

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @wormplant @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Random Turtle HCs

Based on the Bayverse turts, guys are 25+ SFW

-Donnie listens to 70s/80s funk jams in the lab. Anything with a groovy beat helps keep him focused on his tasks, but sometimes he subconsciously starts dancing when his favorite songs come on the speakers. Mikey caught him once, and he's never heard the end of it.

-When they were tweens Mikey got Raph into animes like Dragonball Z and Bleach. It was something they both really got excited about when the re-runs would come on tv. As they get older, both guys still watch it together for a lil brother bonding time. They're currently binging Jujustu Kaisen and One Punch Man. Donnie will sometimes watch an episode or two with them, but he never really got into it. Leo makes fun of Mikey and Raph for liking such bro-y shows, but secretly watches shojo/shonen animes like Fruits Basket or Oran Host Club. He's re-watching Inuyasha right now (for the third time). He would die of embarrassment if his brothers found out (Donnie knows).

-After seriously pulling a muscle a few years ago, Leo got really into massage therapy. He did a bunch of research on physical therapy and different massage techniques, and figured out how to marry the two ideas so he could help out when his brothers inevitably hurt themselves. Cough *Mikey* Cough.

-Speaking of which, Mikey is literally always hurting himself. He's not clumsy, he's just a wild dude who tends to overestimate the capabilities of his board. He's smacked into the side of a building more times than his brothers can count.

-Raph has a tendency to yap in the weight room. He's serious about working out, but if one of his brothers comes in to work in with him, he'll get reeeaal chatty. It's just the space he feels most comfortable and open, where his walls come down. Mikey doesn't mind, but it bugs the crap out of Leo.

-Donnie has to be dragged to the weight room to lift weights. Leo insists on it, and even gave him a perfectly tailored workout plan, but Donnie will make up every excuse to not go. He's never been able to build muscle like his brothers, and they know that, but Leo still wants him to continue strength training. Once as a teen, he was tossed over Raph's shoulder and brought in. Raph got away mostly unscathed.

-Leo writes Star trek and Battlestar Galactica fanfic. No, I will not elaborate.

-Mikey has been teaching Splinter new slang words, mostly to irritate Leo. The other night at dinner he used "no cap" in a sentence, and Leo got up and left the table. Mikey was cackling.

-Donnie swears. A lot. Raph and Mikey do too, but Don is real bad. Leo tries not to, out of respect and in the name of good manners, but if he gets heated in a videogame against Mikey, watch out.

-Mikey struggles with depression, but uses his sense of humor to cope. His jokes occasionally border on self-depreciating, which is a heads up to his brothers that he's not doing great. They take camping trips or plan fun days to help him out of the funk.

-Leo is the biggest flirt in the world. He doesn't realize he's doing it sometimes, until his victims are more blush than person and a puddle on the floor.

-Donnie is incredibly sassy. Like 1000%. He loved sitcom shows like The Golden Girls growing up, and learned how to deliver absolutely fatal comebacks with ease. He doesn't strike to kill unless he's annoyed, usually.

-Raph loves to sing. Like actually loves it. He won't sing for his brothers, but if you follow him on nights when he sneaks off, he goes to abandoned warehouses for the acoustics. Raph has a beautiful voice, with a little rasp to it, and he likes the way it echoes off the rafters. He usually sings along with 90s/2000s r&b, but sometimes will pull out some classic rock ballads. He's been singing Because of You by Ne-yo the past few nights.

-When Mikey discovers a new artist that he likes, the whole lair knows. He plays the music on full blast, going through the full discography. Donnie usually has to threaten to disconnect the wifi before he'll turn it down. His newest fixation was the Silk Sonic album.

-All the brothers' music tastes are influenced by each other. Raph listens to Rap, Leo likes R&B, Mikey's into Hip Hop, and Donnie's music is soup (there's a bit of literally everything). They all share music with each other, adding to the queue when they're in the garbage truck. The only consensus is that country sucks.

tags: @thelaundrybitch, @sophiacloud28

let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

[litersllydazai]

Dazai and Chuuya SFW and NSFW headcanons

this is NSFW written by a minor, just so you know.

SFW

Dazai

I feel like Dazai would sleepwalk, I don't know why but he just does

Despite having been a Port Mafia executive, he is obnoxiously clumsy

He can probably play electric and acoustic guitar

He likes board games but no one else wants to play with him

He talks very fast

He desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one

He's oblivious to any and all romantic interest someone may show him (which was very frustrating for Chuuya)

He's weirdly good at impressions

He's overanalytical about the most random things

He falls asleep inhumanly quick

He had a pet pigeon when he was 15-16 but Hirotsu set it free and Dazai thinks it either died or escaped

He's definitely a theater kid

Has got to have a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen

He uses emoticons instead of emojis as he finds emojis ugly and annoying

He has a monstrously fast metabolism

He isn't allowed to drink energy drinks

Was Tumblr famous at one point but abandoned the account

Hacks his states in every game he plays

He sleeps in until noon when he does manage to sleep at night

Chuuya

Almost drank the lethal dosage of caffeine one time

He didn't know how to read when he was 15 and had to be taught by Hirotsu and Kouyou

He's very good at walking in platform heels

Uses the word "like" like a comma

Shops exclusively at Hot Topic

He's punched a hole in his wall before

He definitely believes in ghosts

Likes exploring abandoned buildings and has explored multiple with Dazai (won't admit it but he enjoyed his company)

If he likes someone he'll give them pretty rocks he finds

Has given Dazai many, MANY pretty rocks, much to Dazai's confusion

He hates being alone most of the time

He watches My Little Pony and no one can change my mind

Sucks at saying tongue twisters, which Dazai found out and constantly tries to make him say them

He has chronic nightmares

Cracks his knuckles very loudly

Has fallen asleep at his desk while working before

NSFW

Dazai

He's a switch with no preference for top or bottom, whatever his lover wants him to do is what he'll do

When he's top he's a huge tease

Makes his lover beg for literally everything and is a bully about it

When he's done being a bully he'll overstimulate his lover until they almost pass out

When he bottoms he's a brat

Has a huge praise kink, giving and receiving

He's probably into pet play

Loves tying his lover up

Whether bottom or top, he's leaving marks on his lover

When he's jealous he's fucking his lover within an inch of their life

Has probably had a threesome with his lover and Chuuya at one point

Chuuya

He's a switch with a preference for being top

May not seem like it but he definitely whines

Will definitely use his ability during sex

Absolutely loves using toys on his lover

When he's top he's a huge pleasure dom

Like Dazai, he has a praise kink, giving and receiving

Likes tying his lover up

Loves sleepy sex and lazy sex

Occasionally likes pet play

When he's bottom he likes being tied up

Loves leaving marks on his lovers thighs and chest knowing he's the only one to see them

While he does see sex as mainly a private thing, he will fuck his lover in his office

[evan-collins90]

Sam Goody stores at Universal CityWalk & Horton Plaza (1993 & 1995)

"The synthesis of three distinct merchandising departments for the new Sam Goody store at the Universal Citywalk exhibits a design of dynamic expression by the Jerde Partnership design team.

The new building sits on the center court of an outdoor shopping mall in Southern California. Representing the three merchandising concepts of Sam Goody, the design pronounces each area through unique and interrelated façades.

The customer enters the Popular Music department through an animated, neon-accented color plaster façade. The entrance to the Classics department and the upstairs Coffee Cafe is between two 40 foot high, 10 foot in diameter Corinthian columns within an interpretative classical façade. A 35 foot high, two-dimensional profile sign depicting King Kong climbing the face of a black and metallic bronze tile building hangs over the entrance to Suncoast Motion Picture Company (video).

The central sales environment is referred to as Backstage, and has the character and atmosphere of a soundstage/studio. The two-story space is defined by upper level catwalks and the destination mezzanine known as the Coffee Cafe. A three-dimensional, walk-through Media Wall features music advertising, photos, oversized images, photo lightboxes, video monitors, projected music videos, reader boards and graphic elements.

Media events are orchestrated throughout the day in an ever-changing environment that depicts the trends of popular music and movies. Weather reports, current events and promotional messages continuously scroll by on the reader boards. In-store performances, CD signings and record promotions bring a sense of "an event" to the store. A live VJ/DJ controls all aspects of the store's music and video media, and interacts with the customers.

On a floating piano-shaped level, the Classics department features a state-of-the-art inventory of classical and jazz selections and creates a controlled, intimate area for the customer with special acoustics, localized sound systems, listening stations and lighting. In the Suncoast Motion Picture Company department, tall video columns accent the environment, supporting the sale of videos and laserdiscs. Interspersed throughout the department are video monitors creating the effect of video confetti.

The Coffee Cafe features a wide variety of interactive listening stations and media experiences. It is intended to be an intimate environment where the customer can pause, enjoy the fare, engage in conversation and take in views of the store as well as the street below through its windows."

Designed by The Jerde Partnership

Scanned from: Stores - Retail Display & Design (1997), Great Store Design 2 (1996), Shops & Boutiques (1994)

[tranquilglobal]

Acoustic Boards for Walls: A Sound Solution for Government Office Privacy

In government offices, privacy and confidentiality are paramount. The hustle and bustle of day-to-day operations, combined with the need for sensitive discussions, necessitate an environment where distractions are minimized, and conversations remain secure. Enter Acoustic Panels, a versatile solution that is transforming government office spaces into sound-secure havens.

Acoustic treatments, specifically Acoustic Wall Panels and Acoustic Boards for Walls, are not just functional but also aesthetically pleasing. Let’s dive deeper into why these panels are an essential addition to modern government offices and how they can revolutionize work environments.

Why Sound Matters in Government Offices

Government offices are hubs of critical activity. From strategic meetings to confidential discussions, maintaining acoustic privacy is non-negotiable. Poor sound management can lead to:

Disrupted Workflows: Noise from neighboring areas can distract employees, reducing productivity.

Lack of Confidentiality: Sound leakage can compromise sensitive information.

Stressful Environments: Constant noise can contribute to employee fatigue and stress.

By installing Acoustic Boards for Walls, these challenges can be effectively addressed. These boards absorb sound, reduce echo, and prevent noise transmission between spaces, fostering a more productive and secure environment.

Benefits of Acoustic Panels in Government Offices

Enhanced Privacy: Government offices often deal with classified information. Acoustic Wall Panels ensure that conversations in meeting rooms or offices do not travel beyond their intended boundaries.

Improved Focus: Employees can work without distractions caused by background noise, thanks to Acoustic Board Panels that dampen sound effectively.

Aesthetic Appeal: Modern Acoustic Panels are available in a variety of colors, textures, and designs, complementing the decor of any office.

Eco-Friendly Options: Many manufacturers offer sustainable Acoustic Boards for Walls made from recycled or natural materials, aligning with government initiatives for environmental responsibility.

Types of Acoustic Solutions for Walls

When considering soundproofing options, government offices can choose from a variety of Acoustic Panels and boards. Let’s explore the most popular choices:

Fabric-Wrapped Panels: These are highly effective in reducing echo and adding a professional touch to spaces like conference rooms and offices.

Perforated Acoustic Boards: Ideal for larger areas such as auditoriums or public-facing spaces, these boards combine functionality with a sleek design.

Wooden Acoustic Wall Panels: These offer a classic look, suitable for executive offices or meeting rooms requiring an elevated aesthetic.

Foam Panels: Lightweight and cost-effective, these are great for quick fixes and temporary installations.

Selecting the right Acoustic Boards for Walls depends on the specific needs of the office. A professional consultation can help in choosing the most suitable options.

Installing Acoustic Boards for Walls: Key Considerations

To maximize the benefits of Acoustic Board Panels, proper installation is crucial. Here are some considerations:

Room Assessment: Understand the purpose of the space. For example, a boardroom may require different acoustic treatment compared to a lobby.

Placement: The effectiveness of Acoustic Wall Panels depends on their placement. Walls facing high-noise areas or shared walls between rooms should be prioritized.

Professional Installation: While DIY installations are possible, hiring professionals ensures the panels are securely mounted and function optimally.

Regular Maintenance: Periodically inspect the panels for wear and tear to maintain their performance and aesthetic appeal.

Case Study: A Government Office Transformed

Consider a scenario where a regional administrative office was struggling with noise complaints and productivity issues. By installing Acoustic Boards for Walls, the following results were achieved:

50% Reduction in Noise: Employees reported fewer distractions, allowing them to focus better on their tasks.

Increased Confidentiality: Meeting rooms became soundproof, ensuring sensitive discussions remained private.

Enhanced Employee Well-being: The improved acoustic environment reduced stress levels among staff.

Such transformations highlight the tangible benefits of investing in Acoustic Wall Panels.

Future of Acoustic Solutions in Government Spaces

The demand for effective acoustic treatments is on the rise, and the future holds exciting possibilities:

Smart Acoustic Panels: Integrating technology to adjust sound absorption levels dynamically.

Custom Designs: Panels that double as art installations, merging functionality with creativity.

Sustainable Innovations: Increased use of biodegradable and recyclable materials for eco-friendly Acoustic Boards for Walls.

Governments are increasingly recognizing the importance of employee well-being and operational efficiency, driving the adoption of advanced acoustic solutions.

Conclusion

In the realm of government offices, where precision, privacy, and productivity are key, Acoustic Panels emerge as indispensable tools. Whether it’s maintaining confidentiality during critical discussions or creating a distraction-free work environment, Acoustic Wall Panels and Acoustic Boards for Walls deliver unparalleled benefits.

Investing in Acoustic Board Panels is not just about enhancing sound quality; it’s about fostering a professional atmosphere where employees can thrive and sensitive operations can be conducted securely. With their functional and aesthetic advantages, these panels are a sound solution for modern government offices.

[onesingularbraincell]

hellaur and welcome <33

i havent found myself yet. i dont know who i am, or who i want to be. im still looking. (look with me?)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

asks and messages are always open!! i volunteer as That Random Person to rant to about anything at all, happy or sad, complicated or simple. just come find me and i'll be here for ya

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

hi guys uh.. my name is lemon and this is my little corner of the internet!! grab a cushion and a drink to settle down, or pass through and get to wherever youre headed (if there is a destination in mind at all).

more under cut!!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧ sixteen

✧ ace

✧ aro-spec/cupioromantic (im figuring things out)

✧ enfp-t if you believe in these things

✧ love language: physical touch

✧ languages: english and mandarin chinese if i try really really hard

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

currently infatuated with:

✦ tgcf

✦ mdzs

✦ woh

✦ marauders

✦ skz

✦ f1

✦ marvel (but bucky barnes in particular)

✦ musicals (hamilton, six, epic!)

✦ c-dramas (ding yuxi ily)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

hobbies include:

✧ looking at pictures of sharks

✧ finding pretty words in a pretty order

✧ blasting music in headphones and staring into space

✧ daydreaming about love

✧ watching sunsets

✧ looking at the stars and thinking

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

what you'll find here:

✦ posts and reblogs surrounding my infatuations

✦ random thoughts that i would like to shout into an abyss (not available) so i write them down instead

✦ a friend (me)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

the vibes i (aspire to) bring to the function:

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

➸ desperately trying to replicate the aesthetic tumblr pins saved to my pinterest boards but the fanarts and fan snippets are calling my name

➸ i swing wildly between being silly and drowning in emotions

➸ often on here when im supposed to be asleep but life is full of disappointments (im life)

➸ if given the chance i will make picrew and random uquiz results my entire personality

➸ always secretly panicking about not having my life planned out

➸ tea >>> coffee

➸ partially made of song lyrics i think

➸ scared of the unknown (but really, who isn't?)

➸ cant tag properly oops

➸ known for: filling my head with so many thoughts they overflow (as words or tears dependent on mood, time and the weather)

➸ scribbled down as an afterthought at 1:27am

➸ i can be funny i promise

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

♫ now playing: corduary dreams by Rex Orange Country

♫ [ spotify link: here ]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

rules:

✧ please be nice

✧ no yelling angrily at each other (or at me)

✧ okay thats it have fun

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

current projects:

✦ GCSEs (help)

✦ journaling/scrapbooking

✦ reading more (book recs? fic recs? send them my way!!)

✦ greek/roman mythology

✦ learning morse code (.. .-../---/...-/. -.--/---/..-)

✦ constellations

✦ redecoration of my online spaces (starting with this here!!)

✦ learning (acoustic) guitar

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

moots wall hehe: (pls message if u dont wanna be included!! moots will be added automatically (eventually anyway))

@isthataraccoon @the-moon-and-stars-4ever @pockyyasii @ghostkingsupreme @urlocalmultigroupfan @l1kepeps1cvla @aroace-not-arokay @lila-77 @adorkablemily @tripleatechie @notrlyaflower @skuirll @woefulstar @may0325lee @silverliningspidey @sweettestdoll @rainystarssx @toastissuperior @ttroubledwaters @chenfordswopez @amorpho-titan @hopeless-umii @noodleswashere @nightmarebyanothername @thatoneartist-inthecorner @zmioniks @frooglet @mephishto616 @moniridia @unstableunicornsofasgard @whiteforest962 @sage-way @napkineater @gh0stwithaheart @essceesee @14-opossums-in-a-trenchcoat @midnight-blues07 @ph4smo-ur1ne @fictionalsimp09 @narniasclosetvoltron @wheezecheese @pinkvanillastillposts @autism-pro-max @sadiesinkobsessedsstuff @lc-27 @possessedbyfiction @stargazing-on-mars @whoa-axel-chill @futurecatladypt2 @reddammancy @kitkat-moon @zone444girls @tawnybug @ijustwanttobeskinny33 @inknpaper13 @aled-lasts-skyscraper-radio @cjsfreakhouse @max-on-fire @saturn-projector @caspar-lynm

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

stay as long as you like, im not going anywhere <3

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 4]

Summary: Mary can't think straight; at least, not about anything but you. He's angry, and he's hurt - rightly so - but he can't help the feeling that he's missing something. His spider senses are tingling, and his saviour complex is nagging in his head...

Meanwhile, you're dragged to a formal dinner at the Town Hall with your father's sleazy political associates. What could possibly go wrong?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: Angst, childhood memories/trauma, alcoholism, addiction, minor drug use, creepy men being creepy, unwanted physical touch/harassment, abandonment, panic attacks

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake for workshopping and beta reading this fic with me! I live for their reactions every time I sent them an idea or a draft... 🤭 This chapter got away from me, as so many do, and ending up pretty damn long... Enjoy!

He had to be quick. Any longer, and he might be chased out. But he couldn’t help himself... he wanted to look, to touch...  

“HEY!” A gruff male voice shouted from somewhere behind him. Mary startled, stumbling back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “These are for people who know what they’re doing, not little hooligans!”  

The store clerk came rushing over, coming in between Mary and the beautiful Gibson Les Paul on display, hung up on the wall amongst the others. The body shone in a stunning hue of deep red wood, orange bursting from the fret board. He’d always dreamt of owning a guitar like this – or any at all. He just wanted to pick one up, to learn, to play.  

“S-sorry mister... I didn’t mean to-” 

“Go on, out with you! Comin’ in here every damn day, gettin’ in the way of my customers. Go on, get!” The old man shooed a 10-year-old Mary out of the store, shutting the door in his face and folding his arms behind the glass, watching until Mary finally sagged his little shoulders and sighed to himself, trudging down the sidewalk with his head hung low.  

Other people were allowed in to look at the guitars, to touch them, test them; why wasn’t he? Sure, he knew he was a kid but he wasn’t a bad kid... He knew he could never afford a guitar like that Les Paul, but oh how he dreamed of owning his own guitar. Just a little acoustic thing to practise on. He'd put in the work, he’d swear it. He just wanted to learn.  

Still, Mary headed home with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, avoiding the eyes of the adults around town who looked down on him with looks of either disgust or pity; he was never sure which was worse.  

“Mom?” he called out as he walked into the small and run-down little apartment block on the edge of town. They’d had to move in here almost a six months ago after his father left, unable to afford much else on his mother’s salary; her job at the local diner didn’t pay well. 

Music from the radio filtered through the hall, along with the smell of yesterday’s spaghetti being reheated on the stove. “In here, baby,” a weak shout came from the kitchen. She sounded weaker with each week that passed, barely eating and drinking far too much to be considered healthy at all. Mary had spotted that, not totally understanding the ramifications of it at his tender age but he was wiser beyond most 10-year-old’s years. That’s the thing about a shitty childhood; you grow up quick. 

Still, he was grateful his father was out of the picture now. Honestly? The lesser of two evils. It was better him gone than be here still, hurting everybody around him. 

Mary headed into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table for the two of them and waiting patiently as his mum stirred the pot over the stove, her back to him. He watched as her left hand lifted a glass from beside the stove; a wine glass, half-filled with the cheapest red on the market. 

“Good day?” she asked, looking briefly over her shoulder. Mary just shrugged; he hadn’t paid much attention in school, and he didn’t want to tell her about being chased out of the music store. Although he wasn’t sure what he’d done to get kicked out, he still lived under the assumption it was somehow his fault.  

His mother hummed along to the radio as she heated their food, taking gulps of the wine to her left and refilling it before plating up two small bowls of food – hers noticeably smaller – and sitting opposite Mary as she placed them down. 

“Thank you,” he smiled at her shyly, never forgetting his manners as he tucked into his meal. His mother smiled fondly at her boy, twirling her fork in the pasta noodles as she sipped her wine. The radio played to fill the silence, songs from another decade that had his mother reminiscing over happier years. 

As he chewed, he thought back to that guitar, how he’d do anything to have one like that. But he’d settle for a smaller, cheaper, second-hand one. He’d be delighted with one. He just wanted to learn how to play, and then maybe one day, his mom could hum along to his songs on her radio.  

“Ma, I think I know what I want for my birthday...” 

“Oh? Well good! I was wondering when you’d give me some ideas,” she smiled. Mary hesitated, chewing his lip. Was he asking for too much? Perhaps, but he had to try at least. “Come on, baby, what is it?”  

“Well... can I get a guitar? Not like, an expensive one or anything... Just second-hand or something. I wanna learn to play, Ma. I think I’d get real good at it!” he rambled, his excitement barely contained as he thought about how people might change how they saw him if he could prove he was good at something, that he could work hard and prove himself.  

His mother’s smile faltered, fading as she dropped her fork against her bowl and grabbed her wine glass, finishing the rest of it off and pouring herself another hefty glass.  

“Baby, guitars aren’t cheap, even the second-hand ones...” she began, her voice quiet and full of regret. 

“No, I know, but I thought, maybe if I could get a job somewhere, I could mow lawns or something, maybe help Mr Rogers at the carpenters or get a paper route, then maybe I could-” 

“Baby you’re ten years old, you should just be a kid as long as you can,” she smiled sadly, her eyes betraying her as they glassed over with tears. It broke her heart to see her little boy so desperate to be a man, to help her, to help pay for his own damn birthday present.  

“I... I can still be a kid, I just thought I could help?” he questioned. 

“I just don’t think I can afford it baby...” Mary’s shoulders slumped, his own fork dropping into his bowl as he sat back against the chair in defeat.  

“Could you stop buying wine for a little, Ma? I just really want a guitar... And then you can get more again. Just for a bit, I promise!”  

If her heart wasn’t already breaking for her little boy, it did then. The guilt rose like bile in her throat, her eyes staring at the bottle on the table, her glass emptied again and the taste lingering on her tongue. She’d had her own selfishness reflected back at her, a mirror held up to the truth; the truth being that her lips were stained with the red of her addiction, paired with her sunken eyes, bearing the weight of her sorrow. 

She should try, she thought to herself. For him, for her little Mary. He never asked her for anything, and the one thing he wants in the world for his birthday was a crummy little second-hand guitar? She should be able to give him that; as a mother, she wanted to give him the world. He certainly deserved it after all he’d been through.  

“I-I’ll... I’ll try, Mary. I’ll really try,” her voice cracked, swallowing the guilt down and forcing the tears to recede. Mary nodded to himself, looking down into his bowl and back to hers that even untouched, still had less in than his half-eaten leftovers.  

He stood up, the bowl in his hands and placed it down in front of her. She needed to eat more, he thought.  

“Oh, baby no, it’s okay. You should ea-” 

“I’m not that hungry, Ma. Please take it.” 

She stopped protesting, nodding as she held a shaking hand out to hold his cheek, stroking her thumb over the pudge he was yet to grow out of with a gentle smile.  

“Thank you, angel,” she told him, pressing a wine-stained kiss to his forehead. “I promise, I’ll try harder.” 

Deft fingers plucked at the strings of a battered old acoustic guitar. The wood was splintering where the neck met the body, the varnish worn down in places that hands would dance over as it had been played to within an inch of its life. Stickers littered the body, hiding nicks and damages from over the years but they too were beginning to wear down to white patches of nothing.  

Still, she sang like a dream the way she always had. Mary’s skilled hands worked her strings mindlessly, drifting from riffs he’d learned of his favourite bands over the years to riffs of his own he’d written – the most recent sounding much more melancholy than he’d anticipated.  

Sitting in his dimly lit studio apartment, he reclined against the wall at the head of his bed with his first guitar in his lap. His intention had been to drift off into his own world, to write some riffs for songs he could present to the guys and form into tracks for upcoming shows, but he’d been unable to focus, his fingers working on muscle memory alone as his head drifted to the same thing he’d thought of for the last few days.  

He’d had time to calm down, for the fog of anger to dissipate and now he’d entered the reflection stage. The anger morphed into hurt, reminded once again that no matter if you wanted him or not, you still were ashamed to be seen with him. He didn’t fit your image, his mere existence in your life was inconvenient and a black stain on your pristine white image.  

He wondered if cleaning himself up was an option for a brief moment. What if he didn’t paint his face? What if he wore a shirt instead of his cut off band tees? What if he styled his hair different? All the ‘what if’s swam around his head, but they’d be lies. Mary was many things, but never a phony. He refused to bow down to public opinion and become one of the masses if it meant sacrificing everything that was genuinely him.  

He decided he’d rather be hated for who he was, than adored for something he wasn’t. Which is exactly the life you were living. 

You’d chosen a world where people loved you, fell at your feet to be known by you and yet somewhere along the way, you’d sacrificed whoever you truly were, covered it up with bows and frills and shiny trinkets. He almost felt sorry for you.  

Still, he couldn’t swallow the nagging feeling that he’d done something wrong, that he was letting you slip through his fingers. He wasn’t dumb; Mary knew there was more to you than this image. He’d seen glimpses of it, this vulnerable yet feisty woman clawing at you from inside. Frankly, you drove him crazy. He'd never wanted anything for himself so badly in his life, except maybe the guitar in his hands. He couldn’t lay his eyes on you without wanting you; perhaps up until recently, he thought that was simply physical attraction, a need to take you and have you both coming undone together.  

But the way you plagued his mind, how he thought of you during the smallest moments of peace to himself... he was beginning to understand he’d formed a kind of connection with you he couldn’t begin to explain. But he was starting to recognise a feeling within himself that stung like rubbing alcohol on a wound, a feeling that shot him right back to his childhood, to a place so painful he’d shoved it down and ignored it for years.  

Before he could go down that route, his shook his head to rid the memories and lay his guitar gently beside him, reaching for his smokes on his nightstand. Lighting one up with his zippo lighter, he rested himself back against the wall, swiping a hand down his face in exasperation. He’d spent too long on this, too many moments infiltrated by thoughts of you.  

If Mary was being honest with himself, he only had to ask himself one simple question; were you worth compromising everything he knew about himself? Were you worth him changing himself, becoming something he wasn’t so he could be ‘acceptable’ in your world? 

No.  

Because that was a world that would only ever see him as a delinquent. They had when he was a child, a teenager and now into adulthood. The second they’d known who his father was, who his mother was, they’d judged him. That would never change, so why should he? 

The town hall ballroom was the last fucking place you wanted to be at any given moment, let alone when it was filled with governors, police chiefs, politicians and seedy businessmen. If you’d had your way, you’d have stayed tucked up in bed, like you’d spent most of your spare time in the last week or so since the Bicentennial fair. Facing reality was something you’d tried to avoid, but that wasn’t going to be possible for Daddy’s big dinner party for all the town’s biggest officials. 

No, you were to be paraded like a shiny trophy daughter tonight, mingling with the rich and seedy underbelly of your father’s political career. These people made your stomach turn and your skin crawl. You observed them from the corner of the room, a glass of prosecco in a hand covered by white satin gloves to the elbow, in a fancy, floor-length, glittered evening dress of the same pale peach colouring as the bubbly. Your mother had picked the outfit, “elegance with a touch of sparkle” she had said. 

Watching them mingle and chatter away, you could barely help the expression on your face turning to one of vague disgust. Your father made his way around the room, shaking hands and rubbing shoulders with the elite while your mother followed in tow, laughing at all the jokes she must have heard a thousand times over the years and nattering with the wives in the room about the latest gossip.  

Shallow; all of this was so fucking shallow. But the worst part? This was your future. Your mother... her life was the future your father had paved for you, expected you to walk. You couldn’t think of anything worse.  

“Pumpkin! Come and say hello to Mr. Nelson,” you father flagged you down from your inner monologue of disapproval, notably stood with an old man you recognised as the town’s previous Mayor. Mr. Nelson had handed the title over to your dad when you were little, staying a consistent advisor in the governing of the town’s affairs ever since his retirement six years ago.  

You’d never liked him. There was something untoward about him, sleazy and manipulative; but that’s politicians for you.  

You knocked back the rest of your prosecco glass for a bit of liquid encouragement and walked towards them with your prettiest fake smile on.  

“Good evening, Mr. Nelson,” you said, taking his outstretched hand to shake. 

“Good evening, my dear!” He didn’t let go of your hand like you’d expected, instead tightening his grip and pulling you to lean forwards so he could press a whiskered kiss to your cheek – or what was actually closer to the corner of your lips. When he leaned back, he winked at you, still keeping hold of your hand to lift it, unashamedly scanning his eyes over your body in your dress and twirling you like a doll on a music box. “My, my... how you’ve grown, hm?” 

Your eyes locked onto your father, who was smiling at you fondly as if there wasn’t a problem. You, however, were exceedingly uncomfortable. You looked back to Mr. Nelson, smiling and acting the part. Honestly, you’d always wondered if acting would be a good career for you; you did it often enough.  

“Quite the beautiful young lady these days,” Mr. Nelson commented, letting go of your hand and coming to stand beside you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he turned to speak to your father.  

“She gets all that from her mother, of course,” he smiled proudly, squeezing the shoulders of your mother beside him, who swatted him with her own gloved hand.  

“Oh, stop it, you charmer,” she laughed. You recoiled from the interaction, uncomfortable that there was still a hand on you at all, let alone on the small of your back. 

“Your father was telling us about your college days; quite impressive, my dear!” Mr. Nelson said, his hand patting just above the curve of your behind.  

“Y-yeah... I mean, thank you, sir,” you smiled graciously. How could you get out of this?  

“Now, if only we could find her a nice man to settle down with,” your father joked, your mother smiling along with him as Mr. Nelson chuckled.  

“I’m sure that won’t be difficult, hm? Plenty of fine men about town. Any catch your eye?” he asked, looking down at you with a raised white eyebrow.  

Instantly, your mind flew to Mary. Certainly, he was not the kind of ‘fine man’ Mr. Nelson or your father would envision for you; in fact, you’re sure they would recoil in horror, but you couldn’t help but think of him. Any opportunity for your brain to remind you of how painfully you’d fucked that up, it would take.  

You took too long to answer, head full of Mary as it so often was.  

“Pumpkin, Mr. Nelson asked you a question,” he insisted with an expectant nod of his head.  

“Oh, not to worry. She clearly has somebody in mind, if the mere mention of a man has her daydreaming about him, hm?” he chortled, his hand now slipping lower to pat at the curve of your backside. Instinctively you jumped forward half a step to get away from the unwanted contact, head whipping to your father in the hope he’d seen that, that he’d step in and defend you. But of course, he didn’t.  

“Pumpkin? What’s gotten into you, hm?” His glare was disapproving, his eyebrow quirking as he waited for your answer, but an awkward silence fell on the four of you instead.  

“I, um... I’m so sorry, I think I lost my balance. These, uh, damn heels, that’s all,” you laughed nervously, averting the eyes of everyone around you.  

“Perhaps a little too much bubbly,” Mr. Nelson accused, tipping his head towards your empty flute in your hand.  

“Y-yes, maybe... Perhaps I need some air. Would you excuse me?”  

You were turning and leaving before your father could stop you, shoving the glass in your hand onto the tray of a waiter on your way to the door, ignoring the calls of “pumpkin!” behind you, sounding aggravated and embarrassed. Heads turned to watch you leave but you couldn’t look at them, overwhelmed and uncomfortable. You just had to get out.  

You headed directly for your father’s office, a small and private space to collect yourself before inevitably having to go back to the ballroom sooner rather than later, lest your father come looking for you.  

Finally alone and in a quiet spot, you slumped into your father’s chair behind his desk, spinning absentmindedly from side to side guided by your stiletto on the ground. You focussed on breathing, helping to subside the panic that had risen in you. Bad enough you’d been forced to come to this thing, let alone subjected to the wandering hands of a man who’d known you since you were barely out of diapers. This evening was the nightmare you’d expected it to be.  

Looking around your father’s office, it hadn’t changed much. The American flag stuck in his pen cup, the portrait of President George Washington on the wall, the photo frame on his desk that housed a very official looking family portrait taken when you were still in middle school. 

This was your life. This façade of pomp and circumstance, governed by sleazy men and dodgy business deals... this was all you could see for yourself. No wonder you were clinging onto Mary by your perfectly manicured fingernails, allowing him back in so easily whenever there was room in your mind. He was the antithesis of that horrendous life already mapped out for you. He was the embodiment of freedom to you, someone that lived their life governed by them and them alone.  

He liked dark things, heavy music, grungy clothes. He didn’t restrict himself, lived freely, chasing the dreams he so obviously strived for. He didn’t care what people thought of him, he lived his truth.  

You wished you could live like that. 

Lost to your musings and memories of brief encounters with Mary, you startled at the sound of the door to your father’s office slamming shut, with him stood before it. He’d come alone, his arms folded over his chest in his crisp tuxedo, and a hardened look of fury in his features.  

Your stomach dropped and you sat upright immediately; this wasn’t going to be pretty. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper and yet spat through clenched teeth. 

“Daddy, I just... Mr. Nelson, he-” 

“Don’t you ‘daddy’ me. Do you realise how embarrassing that was for your mother and I?” he scolded. You swallowed your words, thrown right back to being told off as a child. “Mr. Nelson thinks you were drunk. Are you?” 

“No, daddy, I swear!” you protested, having only drank two glasses... on an empty stomach and faster than a shot of your favourite flavour schnapps.  

“Then explain why you were so damn rude to him, hm?” he raised his voice, stepping towards you and leaning down on his own desk by his palms.  

“He put his hands on me! He’s a creep, dad!” you matched his volume, defending yourself. Your dad just scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief.  

“He’s a respected member of this community. One bad word from him, and this could all be over for us. My career, our way of life, everything! Do you understand that?” he shouted. How silly of you to think your own father might take your side when one of his creep associates lay a finger on you.  

“It was a knee-jerk reaction, he touched my ass dad, like some fucking pervert!” you yelled back, standing from his chair and finding the guts to finally answer back, to fight for what was right instead of pander to him. Mary would be proud. 

“You watch your mouth, young lady. I am your father-” 

“YES! YOU ARE! And as my father, I thought you might stand up for me, oh, I don’t know, maybe be disgusted when some old man lays a hand on your daughter’s ass!”  

Your father lifted an accusatory finger at you, wagging it in your face as if scolding a bad dog. “He was talking to you about your future. A future that he can take away with a snap of his fingers.” He demonstrated with the hand he waved wildly in front of you. “You’re lucky your mother has such a way with words...” 

“You mean she’s a good liar,” you laughed humourlessly. “Suppose you have to be in this kind of life...” His face paled, his eyes darkening and appearing to sink further into his skull as he stood up straight, his brow furrowing. 

“I have worked for over two decades to build us ‘this life’,” his voice deepened, darkening considerably as he loomed over you. “Look around you. Do you think this just happens? I have done nothing but provide for you, you ungrateful little girl.” 

“This is the problem... I’m not a little girl anymore, and you still treat me like I can’t think for myself. I’ve got my own mind, things that I want to do. Do you give a shit about that at all?” The anger inside you you’d caged up for too long was surfacing, the heat on that simmering pot turning up with every word out of your father’s mouth. Already you were too far gone to reel it back in. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to hear this. 

“I give a shit about this family!” he screamed. “I will not allow you to tear it all down in some childish tantrum!” 

“Tear what down?!” you protested, “I just want to be able to do something for myself for a change, to start my life! It’s got nothing to do with your prestige as Mayor, I just want to be able to finally crawl out from under your shadow!" 

Your father ignored you completely, still only seeing the pigtailed little girl from the portrait on his desk standing in front of him. He had no idea she’d grown up before his very eyes. He’d blinked and missed it, too damn focussed on his own career and image to notice.  

“You selfish little brat. You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, “This is MY TOWN! MY LEGACY! You will live by MY RULES!” 

And truthfully, that was all it was ever going to boil down to. His fucking legacy.  

You sagged your shoulders in defeat, tears begging to fall out of anger. Everything you thought your dad still believed, he’d proven to you in just a few minutes; you were still a child to him, and his legacy was more important than your own happiness. Nothing you could say would win this fight. Nothing would make him see how badly he was hurting you.  

You took a deep breath, composing yourself to speak a little calmer, more collected. With emotions heightened, it was easy to yell and scream back at him, to get carried away but you were determined to show him this was not some ‘tantrum’. You meant this.  

“What if I don’t want to do that anymore?” you asked, staring him straight in the eye. The air seemed to thicken around you as you waited for it to soak in, for him to hear you, process, and respond. The silence was suffocating.  

“I’m sorry?” he asked, turning his head to present his ear as if he hadn’t heard you, but he most certainly had. He just wanted you to repeat yourself, testing you, warning you; did you have the balls to say it again? 

“What if... I don’t want to live by your rules anymore?” You spoke calmly, methodically. You will listen, you thought to yourself. 

Your father straightened up again, his head twitching as he tidied up his cuff links, straightened his bow tie and slicked back his hair before he gave you the time of day. This was just a part of his intimidation, his macho technique, reminding you he was a distinguished man, one with power. When he finally looked you in the eye again, his face was set in stone.  

“Then you can get the hell out of my office.” 

Like a punch to the gut, it knocked the wind right out of you. He wanted you to leave.  

“F-fine...” you stuttered, walking around the desk as if to head for the door, pulling your cell phone out of your clutch, “I’ll get one of your lap dogs to take me home, and we’ll talk about this in the morning,” you told him, trying to keep a modicum of dignity, prove to him you were an adult and taking the moral high ground. But your father laughed... 

“I don’t think you heard me. Perhaps you didn’t understand...” he turned around to face you, now stood by the door to his office. “This is my town, Pumpkin. This whole town is my office.” 

The weight of what he was saying fell like a barrel of hot tar over you, the scorching, searing pain radiating through you. You stared in disbelief, waiting for him to laugh, to tell you he was kidding, just pushing your buttons to see your reaction but nothing... He just stared at you, as you stared at him, like a deer in headlights. 

“Y-you’re not serious...?” you dared to whisper, shaking your head in denial. 

“Deadly. Get out,” he growled, “or do I have to call security?” 

Those angry tears turned into streams now falling down your cheeks silently while you were unable to blink, processing his command until your body moved of its own accord, reaching for the doorknob and opening it behind you.  

“I’m sure your precious town will love to hear about this,” you threatened, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He just smirked and folded his arms over his chest again.  

“Careful, Pumpkin. Daddy’s got one hell of a legal team; and they’re all eating out of his palm in that ballroom tonight.” 

He had you beat. Checkmate. Every credible lawyer – and the seedy ones – were on his damn payroll. You couldn’t win this no matter what you did. You just had to walk away...  

And so, you did. Quietly, you slipped out from the opulent town hall and found yourself stood on a street corner a couple of blocks away, out of the sight of not only your father and his invitees behind the huge windows of the ballroom, but out of sight of his cronies, already given the instruction to make sure you left quietly, and didn’t attempt to come back in. 

You were alone, as you had become so accustomed to being. 

Every riff felt wrong. For over a week now, Mary tried to write something new, something fresh that he’d never heard before, that excited him and inspired him but... nothing. He was beginning to think he’d lost his touch. He knew he couldn’t force inspiration to come, but this was a longer, drier spell than even he was used to... 

He reached for his pack of smokes on the nightstand where they usually sat, only to discover he was fresh out – that last cigarette had truly been his last.  

“Shit,” he cursed to himself, crushing the empty box in his palm and throwing it in the general direction of the trash can, hitting the rim and bouncing off to the floor beside two or three other crumpled cigarette boxes from the last few days.  

Whew, he thought to himself, smokin’ more now, too. Awesome. Still, ignoring the mess he’d neglected to tidy, he stood up from his bed with a stretch, abandoning his tattered acoustic on his bed. His leather jacket that he’d slung over the back of his couch still held his keys, wallet and cell phone from his last outing to the gas station, and so he slithered his arms into the sleeves and headed for the door.  

He knew he didn’t need to take the van to travel the four blocks to the gas station on the edge of town just for cigarettes, but there was something about a late-night drive that calmed Mary. It always felt like one of those rare moments where he got to be himself; a decent band on the stereo and some open road to clear his head.  

He also knew he didn’t need to go all the way to the gas station for smokes; the convenience store on the corner would do just fine. Except, Forrest usually worked the late-night shifts at the gas station, and he’d get to take advantage of his staff discount. 

“Hey man!” Mary called out as he walked into the store, the bell dinging above his head. Forrest looked up from the magazine he was reading, slumped over the counter. 

“Well, look what the dogs dragged in...” Forrest smirked, “where’d you fuck off to the other night?” 

Ah. He’d never explained where he’d disappeared to the night of the fair, nor had he seen any of his friends since. He hadn’t realised he’d shut himself off for that long, but seemingly, he had. 

“Oh, uh...” he stammered, thinking up an excuse.  

“Some chick got your attention, huh?” he stood upright and folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the counter. “I don’t know how you do it, man. You got ‘em lining up out the door. You shoot strawberry milkshake outta that dick, or what?” Mary relaxed instantly, his alibi already created for him.  

“Why, you wanna taste?” he mocked, shooting a flying kiss at him as he stepped up to the counter in an overly camp, seductive walk to make the other laugh. 

“I’ll stick to the slurpie machine, thanks,” he joked, pretending to gag at the thought of Mary’s strawberry milkshake. “You need somethin’, or you just here to entertain me?” 

“Outta smokes,” Mary shrugged. “I’ll grab the usual.” 

Forrest nodded, turning his back to fish through the cigarettes that lined the wall behind the counter, coming to the brand Mary would usually purchase. Mary looked to his left, seeing a special offer on party size bags of Takis and an array of candy bars. He chucked a bag up on the counter with some candy and fished inside his jacket for his wallet as Forrest rung him up.  

“Big plans tonight, huh?” 

“Oh yeah, big night in with my favourite girl, Mary Jane,” Mary waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Explains the snacks, you always did get munchies worse than any of us...” he laughed, punching his employee code into the register to add his discount; something he did without thinking these days. Mary was always grateful. “$15.75” 

“Thanks, man,” Mary handed over a twenty, shoving the change back in his wallet just as his phone started to buzz in his other pocket. He whipped it from his jacket, checking the caller ID when his chest tightened.  

You. 

Mary sneered at the phone in his hand, shoving it back into his pocket with a scowl on his face. If Forrest noticed, he didn’t question it, probably assuming it were a telemarketing scam.  

“We should get a practise in before Saturday,” Forrest suggested, “I think Davey’s free on Tuesday? And I'm off too.” Mary hadn’t forgotten; they had a show to play in the city, some new goth club were having a metal night, and word of Mary’s band was starting to spread beyond the scene they’d been playing for the last two years. 

“Uh yeah.” His phone stopped buzzing in his pocket. He ignored the feeling of disappointment in him, that gnawing voice in the back of his head that told him he should have answered it. “Yeah, I think I’m free. You wanna see if Jed’s about?”  

Forrest made a noise that sounded vaguely like an affirmative as Mary picked up the bag with his purchases inside.  

“Alright, uh...” Mary’s phone began vibrating in his pocket again, barely any respite since the last call. He ignored it, trying to claw himself back to reality instead of letting his mind drift to whatever you could possibly be calling him for. He was sure it was only one thing, anyway. “Let me know, man!” 

“Yeah, see ya!” Forrest grinned, shutting the register with a ping and picking up his discarded magazine as Mary turned and left, the bell dinging above the door again. He stood outside for a moment, fishing his phone out of his pocket and seeing that it was indeed your name that flashed on his screen.  

Once again, he ignored it, shoving it this time into the back pocket of his jeans and skulking back over to his van, parked in a bay near the door. It stopped just as he wrenched the door open with a rusty creak, throwing his bag into the passenger seat. He climbed in behind it, slamming the door shut and settling into the seat as he shoved the keys into the ignition. As he turned them and the engine roared to life with his stereo, he took a deep breath, leaning back against the head rest and desperately willing the thoughts of you to leave him be. 

He’d wasted too much time on you already, and he meant what he’d said last time. He was tired of being everybody’s dirty little secret, and he wasn’t about to answer your fucking booty call. Not again.  

Reaching into the plastic bag beside him, he pulled out his carton of cigarettes and ravaged the packaging until he could pry one from the box and shove it between his lips, pushing the lighter button in on his dashboard and waiting patiently for it to heat. Closing his eyes, he waited for the telltale click, reclining into his seat, when his phone began to buzz in his back pocket once again.  

Mary’s eyes shot open, anger coursing through his veins. Were you that desperate to get laid? It wasn’t fair. He thought he’d made it clear where he stood, that he wasn’t interested in being picked up and dropped whenever someone felt like it anymore. He had to start thinking less with his dick and more with his head – and his heart. 

But you were not getting the message – ignoring your calls wasn’t working. Maye he just needed to say it in black and fucking white.  

Muttering curses to himself, he fished his phone from his back pocket where he sat, seeing that the caller ID did indeed read “Doll” again. He turned the volume of his stereo way down, took a deep breath, and answered the call.  

“Look, I’m really not interested in being your booty call, Barbie,” he spat down the microphone, “so you might wanna just give it up now before you embarrass yourself.” 

He was met with silence. He almost wanted to laugh, picturing the look of sheer shock on your face as you sat surrounded by your pink frills and stuffed animals in that ivory tower of yours. But instead, he waited. Would you dare speak? Argue with him? He’d managed to rile himself up enough by this point that maybe a fight was exactly what he needed to expel the rage.  

The silence continued for a beat too long, and confusion set in. His brow furrowed, checking his phone screen to see if you’d hung up but no, you were still connected. He lifted the phone to his ear again, waiting... and then he heard it. 

A sob.  

A sob so small and timid, he thought maybe he wasn’t supposed to have heard it. But instantly, his face paled, and his chest hollowed. Every muscle in his shoulders that had tensed in his anger when he picked up the phone instantly turned to jelly. He’d expected resistance, maybe a “fuck you, Goore” or something to that effect. He’d expected an argument, rage, denial or defence.  

He waited again, clicking the side button on his phone to turn the volume up in case he’d missed it. Now, he heard the sniffles too, along with the shuddering breath from an inhale that sounded uncontrollable. And then another small, suppressed sob. 

He panicked, sitting bolt upright in his seat and pulling the cigarette from his lips as he looked around his surroundings as if there was something, someone who could help. Of course, there was nothing.  

He didn’t expect you to react that way... Perhaps he’d been too harsh, maybe yelling at you wasn’t the right way to go about this, to cut his ties with you before they were truly bonded, but he hadn’t even thought it through. Mary just thought severing it with a quick, clean blow would do the trick... 

“I-I... d-didn't... know who... to call,” you wept down the phone, breathing irregular as if you were suffering a panic attack. “I’m s-s... sorry.” 

Instantly, Mary knew he’d fucked up. You weren’t calling him for a hook up, this was something different. Something had happened. You had already been in this state. And you’d turned to him for help. Mary swallowed a gulp of nothing, now realising his mouth and throat had gone dry whilst his jaw had hung open in bewilderment and panic. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, frenzied. He waited for a response, only hearing more sobs; ones that you clearly were unable to hold back as you tried to speak, to tell him what had happened. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that you couldn’t say it without losing the small semblance of composure you had. You were in no fit state to talk about this on the phone. 

The hand holding the phone dropped to his lap for a moment as he muttered a “shit” to himself, slamming his head back against the headrest. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to run right to you, to go and fucking save you with some twisted sense of duty towards you. But then, yes, of course he was; Mary’s saviour complex had kicked in the second he heard that first tiny, frail sob. 

He held the phone to his ear again. 

“Look just... fuck, just breathe alright? Slowly, if you can. I’m coming, just make sure your window’s unlocked,” he instructed you, pressing his foot down on the clutch and shoving the gear stick into reverse.  

“’m not... home...” you sobbed. Mary paused, confused.  

“Well... where are you?” he asked, now more concerned as to what the hell had happened. If someone had laid a fucking finger on you...  

“R-Raynor... street...”  

Dead centre of town; anything could have happened, anybody could have been around.  

“Alone?” he asked, incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of you being alone at this hour in the middle of town.  

“M-mhm...” Mary cursed to himself again, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he used both hands to spin the wheel of his van, quickly looking in his mirrors to reverse out of his parking spot before he could speed off into the night to come and find you. 

“I’m coming, alright? Stay there. Keep your phone close, stay on the line. You keep off the street ‘til you hear me coming, you understand?” His instructions were clear, almost military-like. He needed you to hear him plainly.  

“Oh...kay,” you sobbed, trying to quieten your sobs and regain control.  

“Keep breathing, I’m on my way.” 

Mary picked the phone from between his ear and shoulder and hit the loud-speaker button, throwing it onto his dash so he could drive easier through the streets as he headed into town. Thankfully the roads had been somewhat empty, most traffic lights turning green on the approach and no one to get in his way or flag him down for speeding at this hour. He just needed to get to you, as fast as possible. 

Turning onto Raynor street, he slowed right down and got a good look; you were nowhere to be seen. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d just followed his advice, hiding down an alleyway off the main street to keep out of sight of any passersby with bad intentions. He turned his stereo back up, a clear indication that it was him who was driving slowly down the street, watching and waiting for you to pop your head out of somewhere. 

“C’mon, doll... where are you?” he muttered anxiously to himself, looking down every nook and cranny between buildings.  

The music you heard edging closer down the street echoed what you could hear from your phone speaker, telling you that the vehicle approaching was him. A wave of relief washed over you, and you stepped out from between a hair salon and an apartment block near the end of the street. Mary's headlights caught on your dress, the sparkle catching his eye immediately and he sped up until he could break suddenly right next to you, jumping out of his van and running around it to get to you as quickly as he could. 

His hands gripped onto your biceps and he held you out at arm's reach to get a good look at you; carefully placed make up had streaked from your tears, black rings forming around your eyes where your mascara had run. Your eyes themselves were bloodshot; how long had you been out here like this before you’d called him? You shivered in his hands, the cold of the night getting to you in this dress that left your arms and shoulders exposed, doing nothing to warm you at this late hour. He didn’t even think, shucking himself out of his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders where his body heat had already warmed it.  

“Are you hurt?” he asked, cupping your face in his hands and swiping the tear tracks away with his thumbs. You shook your head no, another sob rising in your throat now that he was here. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, his initial reaction to your phone call clearly indicating he was still very much mad at you; not that you could blame him. But it didn’t escape your notice that he had come anyway, and the expression on his face was almost one of terror before his eyes had fallen on you, and softened considerably. 

Something in him cared.  

“Alright, come on... get in,” he settled a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you gently and quickly to the passenger side of his van where he opened the door for you, helping you up. You settled into the seat, curling in on yourself and hugging Mary’s jacket closer to you for the warmth the night had stripped from you as he climbed in the driver’s side. He turned the stereo right down, the music now only to fill a silence rather than to alert you to his arrival.  

“Is there... somewhere you want me to take you?” he asked, an awkwardness coming over him. He had no idea how to react in this situation, no clue what had happened or why you’d called him of all people when you had an entire security team on your side. 

You seemed to think about it for a moment, a fresh wave of tears trickling from your eyes and dripping to your lap when you looked down in an attempt to hide your face.  

“I... don’t have anywhere...” you sobbed, your fists tightening around the edges of Mary’s jacket to have something to ground you while your shoulders shook.  

Mary watched on helplessly, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reach over, to pull you into him and hold you so you could let out the much more violent sobs you were so obviously holding back. He was so used to the feistier side of you; your smart mouth, your confidence... It’s what drew him in, what attracted him to you like a moth to a flame. This wasn’t you. 

It stirred up a need in him to help, to sacrifice his own discomfort in favour of your comfort. Instantly, he put you first, forgetting any resignations he had about ever seeing you again. That anger he harboured at how out-of-touch he thought you were? It dissipated the second he’d heard the first sob. He’d been triggered like a sleeper cell, instantly needing to patch up whatever wound you’d suffered. 

“You don’t wanna go home?” he asked, figuring he already knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. When you shook your head violently, he got the confirmation he needed. “Alright, well...” He was going to regret this, wasn’t he? But he’d said it before he could stop himself. “You could stop at my place for a bit.” Yep, he regretted it. “If it’s not too weird, or anything... I mean, I live alone, if you’re worried about my friends being ther-” 

“Okay...” you sniffled.  

Mary stopped rambling, instead reaching for the cigarette he’d never lit and thrown on his dash with his phone. Once again, he pushed the cigarette lighter in to heat up, adjusting the heating in the van to a warmer temperature too to warm you up. 

“Alright um, sure...” He held the cigarette between his lips, shoving the van into gear and continuing down the street. “There’s a carton of cigs in the bag by your feet, if you want one,” he offered – more to fill the silence between you than anything. The quiet stereo could only do so much. 

You sniffled and reached down to the bag, fishing through the plastic until you found the carton he’d mentioned and pulling one out for yourself hoping it might help to calm you. With a pop, the lighter signalled it was ready, and Mary held it out to you first as he focussed on the road. You lit it carefully with a small ‘thank you’ and settled back into your seat. The first drag helped settle your nerves, the heating in the van calming the shakes you’d had too, although you weren’t sure if that had been the panic or the cold of the night. 

A few streets into the journey back to his place, you couldn’t take the quiet any longer. The awkward air between you felt so stale, icy in comparison to the warmth the van generated. As much as you wanted to relax in his presence – as he up until now had always been able to make you do – you just couldn’t. Not with the elephant in the back of the van, so to speak... 

“I’m sorry... for calling,” you mumbled, still too full of shame to be able to look at him directly, only stealing a glance from the corner of your eye. Mary took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash out of the crack he’d opened in his window. He looked between you and the road, as if thinking through his response a few times.  

“You don’t have to apologise for that. I’m not one to leave a lady out in the cold...” he shrugged. He certainly wasn’t; literally or metaphorically.  

“Thank you for coming, Mary. I didn’t know where to go...” Every time you thought back to the fight with your father, fresh and hot tears would well up in your eyes. It didn’t escape Mary’s notice, and he wanted nothing more than to reach over and squeeze your hand with reassurance. Instead, he settled on trying to lighten the mood a little. Comedy always had been his defence mechanism, after all... 

“Dressed like that? I’d have said... Cinderella’s ball?” 

You scoffed, the first genuine smile he’d seen from you as you shook your head. “Shut up,” you told him.  

“You couldn’t call on the creatures of the forest to come help?” he continued, smirking when he saw your shoulders shaking in silent laughter, elbow propped up on the edge of your window. “Tinkerbell not got any pixie dust left for ya?” 

You reached over and playfully slapped his chest, earning you an ‘ouch’ and an act of feigned pain as he recoiled. But you giggled to yourself, the absurdity of it all finally hitting you. Here you were sat in your sparkly peach gown with your satin elbow gloves, high heels and fancy hairdo, cradled by Mary’s leather jacket in a beat-up van that was old enough to still have a damn cigarette lighter in the dash. Perhaps you were Cinderella... Did that make Mary your Prince Charming, or your fairy God mother? 

Now he’d heard you giggle – something he always loved hearing out of you – Mary could relax a little. There was still an awkwardness between you both, neither one of you could deny that, but the first layer of ice had been broken. For now, that would be enough. If you wanted to talk to him about what had happened when you got to his, then fine. If not, he figured that was okay too. At least he’d know you were safe and had someone by your side who cared about you; and yes, Mary could admit to himself now that he did care about you... 

Just, maybe not to you – not yet. But it wasn’t something he could exactly deny either, when he’d dropped his ‘big plans’ of getting high and demolishing a bag of snacks alone with his guitar the second he’d heard your despair. And all of that in spite of his lingering anger towards you. How quickly he’d flipped that, from wanting nothing to do with you to racing to your rescue. 

Mary’s apartment was small, as you’d expected. As you followed him inside, you looked around. The kitchen sat directly to your left cut off by a half wall to corner it in, a couch that looked like it had seen better days backed up against that half wall and pointed at an old television. Mary’s bed was unmade and pushed up against the far-right corner, facing the bathroom that took up as much space as his kitchen did but was the only room closed off. In the way of bedroom furniture, all he had was a small nightstand and a chest of drawers that had been knocked about some...  

It seemed cosy, lived in. It wasn’t particularly tidy; a blanket strewn over the tatty couch, vinyls laying on top of his little coffee table and around his record player in the corner of his living space, guitars laying up against the wall here and there, an acoustic on his bed, pots and pans stacked up on the draining board in his kitchen – clean, but not yet put away.  

Had Mary known he was having royalty stop by, he might have tidied up a little, but this was how it looked most of the time. He didn’t spend much time at home, especially now that his band were starting to take off a little. But truthfully, he avoided being alone at all costs. He got too much thinking done alone, hence why he had his distraction methods of weed and song-writing.  

Mary scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and went to flick on a lamp by the couch. He quickly whipped around the space, picking up the strewn vinyls, straightening up the blankets. “Sorry about the mess,” he set as he jetted past you towards his bed to pick up his guitar and straighten out the blankets and pillows. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, his jacket still hanging off your shoulders as you picked at your gloves.  

“No, it’s fine, it’s not that bad,” you told him, noting the few personal belongings Mary had too; most notably the little picture frame on a windowsill by the couch. A strikingly beautiful woman, and a goofy little boy snuggled tightly in her lap. Both were grinning into the camera, the boy’s front teeth missing. You guessed that was Mary, and the woman, his mother.  

“Can I get you anything? I don’t know, a drink maybe? Or, uh...” He stood awkwardly, nervously wringing his hands and fiddling with his rings. It was so out of character for him, usually cocky and confident in everything he said or did. In a way, it was quite endearing...  

“Maybe some water, if you don’t mind...” You winced at your own request, feeling like you’d already asked for too much tonight.  

“Yeah... yeah, sure!” He jumped into action, rushing into the kitchen to fetch a clean glass from the cabinet. “Make yourself at home,” he told you, nodding towards the couch he’d just tidied. You walked towards it, draping his jacket over the arm and sitting on the edge of it, playing with your gloves until he came and sat opposite you, handing you a cold glass of water. 

You took it with a thank you, downing a third of the glass once the water hit your tongue – you hadn’t realised just how thirsty the tears and panic had made you.  

“So, um... you wanna tell me why you’re dressed like that?” Mary nodded at your dress, getting himself comfortable and ready to listen. You looked down at yourself, feeling utterly ridiculous now. This was your world... glitter, glam, sparkles; and you despised it.  

“Fancy dinner at the town hall – pompous twats and vile politicians. Mom picked this out,” you scoffed. 

“Huh,” he mused, “I mean, if it helps, you do look pretty...” he shrugged. A warmth rose to your cheeks at his compliment. “The mascara smudges are a nice touch, I think.” You laughed at that, wiping your fingertips along the underneath of your eyes and seeing the black collecting on the white satin. “So... what happened?” 

He asked you so gently, and instantly you felt safe. His gaze wasn’t judgemental, just soft. In fact, it had taken you this long to mentally note that Mary wasn’t made up with his usual faded skull paint and fake blood. His face was clean, you could see every detail. You could see every emotive line, every twitch of his expressions and a vulnerability in him that the face paint usually masked. He had a kinder face than people gave him credit for. Suddenly, you got it. He was putting on a mask every day, just like you.  

And so, you told him. You told him how you’d felt in that ballroom, looking around and seeing the real scumbags of this town. You told him about Mr. Nelson; what he’d said, what he’d done. Mary’s face hardened at that, an anger and protectiveness washing over him that had his fists balling up tightly. You told him how you’d excused yourself, and how your father had followed you to his office. Throughout, he stayed quiet, letting you speak and listening to everything you said. He’d react every so often, fetched you some tissues when the tears had started again. You told him everything, including how your father had screamed at you to follow his rules to not damage his “legacy”.  

“And I told him I didn’t want to do that anymore... I wanted to do my own thing and live for me.”  

Mary’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  

“Shit... What did he say?” he asked, obviously knowing it hadn’t ended well.  

“Told me to get out of his office,” the tears came again, your voice raising in pitch as you tried to hold back the sobs, “that this whole town was his office. Threatened me with lawyers if I tried anything. So... I just left.” 

“He kicked you out into the street, alone, dressed like that, in the middle of the fucking night?” Mary’s anger was clear, spitting venom between clenched teeth. He couldn’t understand the nerve of your father, how he could be so damn stupid putting you in danger like that. “Fucking arrogant asshole...” 

It was clearer to him more now than ever that he’d been so wrong about you...  

He shuffled closer to you on the couch, cautiously wrapping an arm around your shoulders to comfort you in some way. Truthfully, he wanted to completely envelope you, to hold you and rock you and let you cry and sob and scream if you needed it. But it wasn’t until you lay your head on his shoulder that he felt okay to do so, finally pulling you into him to wrap his arms around you and let you cry into his chest.  

He felt so warm beneath you, his heart rate a little elevated but the thumping kept you grounded as you held onto his shirt, curling into a sparkly little ball in his side. Mary cradled your head to him, stroking your hair and whispering to you about letting go, that you were safe here. 

If he was being honest with himself, he knew how shitty he’d been to you. He’d become far too defensive too quickly, unable to see past his own injustices in his world to understand that your world came with them too. There had been signs of your confinement, of the tight leash you were kept on, but he’d wilfully ignored them, striking them off as privilege. Your bedroom alone should have been a giant red flag; how was a grown woman still sleeping in a child’s bedroom?  

“I’m sorry, doll...” he told you, muttering into your hair as his lips gently pressed to the top of your head.  

“Not on you, Mare. This has been coming for a while...” you sniffled, wiping your tears with your gloves as you snuggled into him a little further, utterly comfortable in his hold. 

“No, I mean...” Mary sighed to himself, “I’ve been an asshole. I got too defensive, thought you were just being a brat or something, y’know? I judged you and I shouldn’t have.” 

Slowly, you sat upright, turning to look at him as his arms fell to his sides.  

“You don’t have to apologise, I get it... I wasn’t exactly good to you either,” you admitted, looking down at his shirt now stained with tears to avoid his eyes. “You were right, I was treating you like I was ashamed of you.” 

Mary sat up straight, clasping his hands together as he nodded in understanding. “We’ve all got our shit, doll.” His eyes drifted to the picture on his windowsill, and you couldn’t help but follow his gaze. You saw how he clenched his jaw, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as sadness crept into his eyes. 

“Who was she?” The question slipped out before you got the chance to stop yourself. From the way Mary tensed up beside you, you could tell it was a sore spot.  

“That’s my mom,” he looked back to you, a sad smile on his face.  

“Is she...?” 

“Dead? No...” he laughed awkwardly. “But she is in a care facility. That’s just the only photo of us I’ve got.”  

You nodded in understanding, not wanting to push the matter. But Mary felt like sharing... You’d been vulnerable with him, shared your shit. Maybe he should share his too, or at least some of it. Maybe you were the only person he could be honest with. You were certainly the only person he’d wanted to get to know him in a long time.  

“She was a drinker. It got worse when my dad left, but he was a waste of fucking space anyway. We, uh, didn’t have a lot...” his eyes flickered to the battered old guitar that now leaned against the wall by his bed, “but eventually her liver kind of gave up, so she’s on dialysis for the rest of her life. She needs constant care, but she’s still with us.” 

“I’m so sorry... no wonder you thought I was just being a brat,” you laughed awkwardly, feeling a little pathetic now. 

“Like I said, we all got our shit. It's not a contest, I just... realised I wanted you to know something real about me.” 

Silence descended over you along with the weight of what he’d just admitted. Mary wanted you to know him. He wasn’t running or hiding himself from you. He’d shared something so personal to him, and you felt that it was something not a lot of people might know about him, if any. Something about you made him feel just as safe as a part of him did for you.  

You looked at him; really looked at him. There was a sadness in his eyes, something you could notice now that you were sat merely inches apart from him with his mask firmly ripped away and laying in pieces on the floor. Whatever wall he usually put up, he’d let down just for you. You felt close to him, unbelievably so. You felt an urge to protect him, defend him. You felt a pull towards him, undistinguished in its meaning but so strong you couldn’t ignore it anymore.  

And as Mary stared back at you, his wounds exposed, he too felt that same pull. Who was he kidding? He’d felt it for a while. How else would he explain being unable to go barely minutes without thinking of you over the last few weeks?  

His eyes flicked down to your lips, heart racing and mind spinning out of control. He’d never felt so exposed. He wanted to kiss you, to show you what he felt in that moment, but it scared him. He already had shared so much, feeling just as vulnerable as he had as a child.  

In your corner, the silence got heavier with every second that passed. If he was going to kiss you, you would let him. You couldn't think of a better way to show him just how much you cared, how close you felt to him; that you truly wanted him.  

Just as you thought he might lean in, he snapped out of his trance, sucking in a breath between his teeth.  

“Well, hey... you can stop here tonight. I can find you something to wear, I’m pretty sure I got something in the back,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows, “I can take you from riches to rags!”  

He slapped his thighs and stood up from the couch, marching over to the dresser by his bed and rifling through his drawers. You stayed put, thrown off by his sudden escape. From such an emotional, tender moment to him throwing that wall back up, closing up shop... You almost got whiplash from the speed at which he put the brakes on. Disappointment lay heavy in your chest.  

He came back over with a folded t-shirt and some plaid pyjama pants you could tie up to keep them on. “There’s clean cloths in the bathroom under the sink if you wanna wash up, towels if you wanna shower,” he handed you the clothes where you sat. “I’ll take the couch, you got the bed and we’ll figure out a plan in the morning.”  

“O-okay...” you stammered, standing up with the folded clothes. Frankly, you felt a little dazed from his shift in demeanour, but you could hardly blame him either. Sharing that had to have been harder than you first thought. 

You walked past him into the bathroom, locking the door and pulling on the string light to awaken the fluorescent bulb above you. Now catching a glimpse of yourself in his mirrored medicine cabinet, you saw the state of yourself. Make up smeared all over your face, streaks of black running from your eyes to halfway down your neck. They looked bloodshot and tired, staring lifelessly back at you. Your hair had fallen out of place from its fancy updo, and you looked as if you’d been dragged through a cornfield by your ankles. 

Deciding against a shower, you settled for wiping the make-up from your face and taking your hair down, attempting to detangle it with the comb you found in the medicine cabinet. You’d found a bottle of cologne in there too, which when you sniffed, smelled exactly like Mary had smelled the night he’d climbed through your bedroom window. You smiled fondly at the memory, noting how the bottle was largely untouched, still having the price tag on it which only confirmed that he’d bought it and worn it just for you. 

By the time you were done and changed into the clothes Mary had found you, Mary had made himself a makeshift bed from the blanket he’d previously folded on the couch and one of the pillows from his bed. He was already laying under it, having changed into some old shorts and removed his shirt.  

“You can put your dress on the dresser, and I can run out and grab you something to wear tomorrow so you’ve got something other than this to wear,” he called from the couch, sitting up so he could speak directly to you.  

“Thank you. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow, I’m sure my dad just needs to calm down...” you told him. Mary couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but also, protective. He wasn’t about to send you home to that, and he didn’t want you to feel like a burden on him either.  

“Sure, if that’s what you wanna do...” he muttered, his lips straightening into a line as he nodded. “Well... get some rest.” 

“Yeah, I will... thank you, Mary,” you told him. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he smiled, laying down on the couch and pulling the blanket over his bare shoulders. Without another word, you placed your clothes on the dresser and crawled into his bed, notably cold without him in it. Mary flicked off the lamp by the couch, plunging the apartment into mostly darkness save for the moonlight and the nearest streetlamp shining through his window. 

The same window where the picture of him and his mother sat.  

He could see it where he lay. In fact, he couldn’t look away. That smile on both of their faces reminded him of a time that was so rare. He could still hear her laughter mixing with his giggles as she’d hugged and tickled him, his grandmother who was long since gone snapping the picture on a whim.  

That little boy didn’t have many memories like that to come. He’d grown up far too soon, knowing how desperately his mother needed the help. His childhood was the two of them stuck out at sea, a hole in their boat – and Mary was the only one fishing the water out with a bucket. Eventually, it was bound to go under, so he worked harder, did everything he could to keep them afloat and yet... it wasn’t enough.  

The world had got him all wrong. When they thought he was bunking off school, he was working for a dollar an hour. When he’d been caught shoplifting, it was for a gift for his mother’s birthday. When he’d dropped out of school, it was to work every hour God sent to keep them from going hungry. When he finally did go off the rails in his late teens, it was after his mother’s liver failed. This poor, grown-up little boy had no one to look after anymore, and he’d spiralled. He was his only responsibility, but he’d never learned to care for himself – just the people around him. He always had to save them.  

Mary wiped the stray tear from his cheek, rolling over to face the back of the couch and will himself to sleep. He couldn’t tell if it was an hour or mere minutes that passed as he lay there, huddled under his old blanket on a couch that poked at his ribs under the cushions.  

“Mary...?” you whispered into the night, testing and hoping that he’d still been awake enough to hear. When he looked up, he saw you sat up in his bed, surrounded by emptiness, hugging your knees to your chest. In the dim streetlight, tear tracks sparkled on your face just like your dress.  

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet had carried him across the room. Tentatively, he sat at the edge of his bed, close enough that he could reach out and tuck your fallen hair behind your ear. Neither of you spoke; there was no need. It was obvious you needed the proximity, both vulnerable and in need of comfort.  

Mary’s eyes flicked between yours and your lips again, hesitating as his mind raced with conflicting arguments for and against giving in. He still wasn’t sure you truly wanted him. Maybe all you wanted in him was a friend, the sex having been a distraction or way to rebel. All Mary knew for sure was that you’d trusted him enough to be the one you called when you were in trouble. He didn’t want to break that trust now...  

But it was like you could see the cogs turning in his brain, the inner argument going on inside him. The battle wouldn’t be won by him alone; you were going to have to prove to him that you wanted him, that he wasn’t just your dirty little secret or some booty call. 

Slowly, you shuffled yourself closer to him, unwrapping your arms from around yourself and instead, pushing his floppy hair from in front of his face, getting a good look at him. That gorgeous face of his sat bathed in the dim light, caught between distant sadness and childlike wonder. With one last flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes, he caught you smiling softly at him, your fingertips dancing across his jawline.  

And then finally, you leaned into him and pressed your lips gently to his. His eyes fluttered shut just as yours did, and he relaxed under your touch as if his limbs had melted. Mary, now feeling marginally more confident in where he stood, tilted his head to better sculpt his lips against yours. He was so gentle with you, his hands lifting to hold yours against his cheeks by the wrists. As the seconds passed, your lips moved together in tandem, both of you leaning into each other until he was able to wrap a hand around your waist and hold you against him, cradling each other in such a tender moment.  

This was undeniably different to any other kiss you’d shared. There was no move to advance, no desperation, no frantic arousal or rushed passion. This time, you simply held each other, seeking comfort in the affection you had for each other.  

As you parted, you rested your forehead against his, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he held you still so close to him, not yet willing to let go.  

“Stay with me tonight...?” you requested, hoping he’d have no problem with the idea. Mary just nodded dumbly, overcome with a warm desire to never let you sleep alone again. You reached around you, pulling the blankets off of your lap to welcome him into them. He climbed in beside you, resting his head on the pillows as you, without a second thought, curled into his chest and let his arms envelope you. Neither one of you wanted to be alone tonight after sharing pieces of your soul with one another.  

Exhausted from the outpouring of emotion, you were soon lulled into a deep sleep by his rhythmic heartbeat and natural warmth. Mary, although exhausted himself, was still barely awake when he felt your body go limp against him. He smiled to himself, satisfied in the knowledge that he’d given up a part of himself he was sure he’d never trust anybody with.  

And yet, the wound was still open; spinning with memories, his mind lingered on one in particular, triggered when his tired eyes had fallen on that battered and beat up old guitar against the wall. That thing served as a reminder that Mary had only ever had Mary looking out for him, and that given a choice between himself and somebody else, he would always save anybody but himself... 

Mary waited patiently on the couch, his attention span null and void as the after-school cartoons blared on the TV set in front of him. He sat on the edge of his seat, quite literally, his feet kicking back and forth as he watched the clock. 

With the big hand on the 2, and the little hand on the 6, she’d be home any minute now. So, Mary waited as patiently as he could. 

Except, it wasn’t until the big hand had done a full circle, and the little hand was on the 7, that he heard the keys fumbling in the lock of the front door, followed by a telltale creak, and the slam of it behind footsteps.�� 

Mary jumped up, already on edge and over-excited. He ran into the hallway, to find his mother leaning against the wall with her eyes shut, head back against the plaster. She looked sick, her skin paled more than usual and her lips tainted with a familiar red stain.  

“Ma?” he asked, placing his little hand on her arm. Her eyes shot open, and she looked down at Mary next to her.  

“There’s my boy!” she slurred, leaning down to smother a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He wiped his cheek in childlike disgust, giggling to himself. “Happy birthday, baby!”  

She stood as upright as she could manage, bringing her purse with her while she stumbled into the living room, into the armchair Mary’s dad used to occupy that faced the TV set. Mary followed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. He’d waited all day for his mom to come home, hadn’t been able to focus in school for even a second. He stood and waited in front of her as she settled into the chair, dropping her purse in her lap.  

“Would you like your present baby?” she asked, smiling through hooded eyes that could barely focus. Mary nodded frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.  

It had been weeks since he’d spoken to his mother about the guitar he so desperately wanted. He’d spent most of his weekends at Mr. Rogers’ workshop, sweeping up wood shavings and running errands for a little bit of pocket money to help his mother save for this exact moment. He couldn’t wait any longer... 

His mother giggled, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small, square-shaped gift wrapped in balloon wrapping paper.  

For a moment, Mary was confused... But this had to be just a decoy. He remembered seeing these CDs in the music store; ‘Guitar Basics for Beginners’, audio instructive lessons that would be far cheaper than real in-person lessons.  

He tore into the paper, throwing the trash to the side and flipped the CD around to look at the front. It was an album; State of Euphoria by Anthrax. Mary’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, surprised to find it wasn’t what he’d thought.  

“That’s the band you like, right? Or... One of them,” his mother hiccupped, leaning on her elbows with a grin. 

“Y-yeah... thanks, ma.” His tone was unmistakably disappointed.  

“What’s wrong?” she asked, swiping her thumb across his cheek and pinching it lightly. Mary chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should say anything. He wasn’t one to be ungrateful, this was still a pretty great gift. Anthrax were one of the bands he had found he really loved recently. 

“No it’s great, ma, really. Thank you... It’s just,” he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “could I get my guitar now? I read this book that teaches you about the frets and the notes of the strings, and stuff!” His words were rushed in that way over-excited children speed up the longer their sentence becomes. 

If his mother’s skin could pale any more, it did then.  

“Well, I... I couldn’t get the guitar, baby,” she told him, trying to let him down gently.  

“But... I helped Mr. Rogers? I thought we had enough?” he asked, his cheeks heating as if he were about to cry, but he didn’t want to make his mother feel bad by letting them spill.  

“I-I’m sorry, Mary... I needed to use that money...” she shrank back within herself, shame and guilt weighing on her shoulders.  

“For what?” he asked, genuinely confused, his tears building in his eyes. He was devastated... He worked so hard to get the guitar, to prove his mind was made up and he wouldn’t give up on learning it. But his mother just stared at him, her lip trembling as she saw her little boy so heartbroken. 

She knew exactly what she had spent it on; the very thing she promised she’d try and give up. 

“I... I’m s-sorry, b-baby,” she sobbed, tears spilling down her pale cheeks and her chest tightening around her breaths. She broke down, sobbing into her hands and hiding her face from the son she’d just disappointed so tragically. 

Mary wanted to be angry. It wasn’t fair... It was him who worked for that money, him who had tried so hard to help her. She was supposed to be the one adult he could count on, they were a team, weren’t they? He never asked for anything, ever. But just once, he wanted this. But she’d put her wine and God only knows what other alcohol before him again.  

He wanted to be angry. He tried to be. But his mother was hurting, she was crying, sobbing in front of him. She needed help. She was broken. She hadn’t meant to do this... right?  

Of course not. Her alcoholism had just gotten out of control, and unfortunately, addiction is a lonely and selfish ailment. Sober, her mind wouldn’t even think of doing something so selfish. But these days, she was rarely sober.  

Mary looked at his mother, crumpled up and sickly looking, weeping into her palms, and he just wanted to save her. He always wanted to save her.  

“Ma, it’s okay...” he told her, trying too hard for an 11-year-old not to cry. “Ma, don’t cry... I can keep working for one, it’s okay. I like the CD, I really do.” he squished himself between her and the arm of the chair, wrapping his arms around her and cuddling into her. She was inconsolable, sobbing so loudly she drowned out the cartoons on the TV set. She’d lost control of herself, and Mary was the only one around to pick up the pieces.  

“Shh, ma, it’s okay. It’ll be okay!” he told her, squeezing her as tightly as he could. “I’m here, don’t cry.” 

She’d screwed up big time, and whether Mary had chosen to forgive her or not, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for this. If she wasn’t already buried up to the neck in a pit of self-loathing, this was the last shovel full of cement to trap her in. 

But Mary had already decided that he’d do what he could to dig her out. She was his mother, she did everything for him that she could... why wouldn’t he help her too? 

A guitar could wait a little while longer. For now, his mother needed him – and he’d work as hard as he needed to save her.  

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

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[lamarkeu]

Episode Summary: We are introduced to Joshua and his family during Sunday Dinner where everyone is helping in and around the kitchen.

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist for SVTTROS Series

a/n this one is really self indulgent (almost boarding delusion). I’ve always pictured Josh with a filo!s/o ever since I found out that some of his friends back in LA are filo. If you don’t relate to this one I understand, feel free to read some more general MCs in the other members episodes.

Italics: Narrators Boo Seungkwan (BS) and Lee Minhyuk (LM)

Bold: Staff

Regular: What family member says / what camera films during the show *____*: English

Listen To: Habang Buhay by Zack Tabudlo

LM: The Return of Superman Idol Edition

BS: Episode 3 “I Think I Love You ” Part 1. The window to window wall frames the first signs of snowfall in Seoul. Today we’re invited into a cute modern style apartment with an open kitchen concept and beautiful gray accented glass cabinets.

LM: There is a lot of music related decor in and around the house, from the signed guitars hung in a protective case on either side of the kitchen while the record player in the living room plays some acoustic music. Could today's superdad be a musician?

BS: They could also be a producer, there’s a bunch of microphones lying around the house.

LM: Two stools are leaned up against the kitchen island with little legs on the highest step. A pair of sturdy legs are standing between the two in what appears to be baggy jeans.

*“Bunso what is this?”* Min-ah asks. (Authors Note: Bunso means youngest in Tagalog).

“It’s pancake batter.” Si-ah, his youngest daughter leans closer over the deep bowl ensuring all the flour has been incorporated into the batter before gesturing to her father to pass the chocolate chips. Joshua carefully puts distance between his son, who is strapped in a frontward facing carrier against his chest, and the small bag of sweets.

*“Are we allowed to do this?”*

“Yeah, it’s a surprise for mommy.” Joshua reassured his middle child by patting her on the top of her head. For a second he notices some of the hairs in her ponytail loosen and quickly tries to flatten it out with his palm before looking back at his youngest. He kicked his legs in excitement at seeing the commotion going on between his older sisters.

“Are you sure?”

His youngest is quick to react, saying *“Unnie, do you always have this many questions?”*

The blunt answer forces a chuckle out of Joshua’s lips as the camera finally pans above to capture his head fully.

BS: I would recognize that laugh anywhere. Today's Superman is none other than a past guest of return of Superman and seventeen’s self proclaimed gentleman, Joshua Hong.

LM: Wow, fatherhood really suits him.

The sound of the front door opening captures everyone’s attention, the three state as Y/N arrives dressed in a simple suit with a briefcase in tow. For a moment the cameras fall onto the massive wedding photo above the couch of Joshua wearing a traditional Filipino suit called a Barong and Y/N wearing a traditional hanbok. The white background of the photo makes the duo appear more vividly in contrast with the gray crowning in the living room.

BS: This supermom looks as if she appeared at a meeting, it’s no surprise given that she is none other than the Co-CEO of Honey-Jade Hong Y/N.

*“Wow girls, everything looks so good.”* She compliments while wafting the air with her free hand. *“You can’t go wrong with breakfast for dinner.”* She makes her way towards the kitchen counter placing her bags against the space next to the fridge.

LM: Breakfast for dinner? That’s new

BS: it’s very common in some places in America to eat like this.

*“Did you guys have fun today?”* Kissing the top of their heads before gesturing towards her husband with her eyes.

Joshua is quick to reassure her with a quick “Yeah” before he is immediately cut off.

*“We were until you came home really early mom, we didn’t get to surprise you.”* A small pout forms on Min-ah’s face upset at the sudden change of plans.

*“That’s okay sweetheart, that just means I can spend time helping us prepare for dinner.”* Her mother stated in an attempt to redirect her emotions.

*“Yeah Unnie it’s okay, we get to cook together and spend more time as a family”*

Si-ah points to a gift bag on the counter. *“Mommy what’s this?”*

LM: I’ve been wanting to know that since she walked in.

BS: It’s quite small to be clothes

*“It’s a gift for the party tomorrow.”*

*“Is it for baby Jeong-woo?”*

*“That’s right. We're going to attend his 100 day celebration with Uncle Wonwoo and the rest of your Sebong uncles”*

BS: Ah that’s right. I wonder if we’ll see more of your uncles on todays episode Siah.

“Hi.”

I think you’re covering your mic Y/N. Can you bring it closer to your mouth.

“Oh my gosh.” She realizes her hair covered most of the black block and adjusting higher up on her shirt collar.

“It’s okay you got this” Joshua whispers in her ear putting his fists in the air in a cheer. The girls turn around in their chair and follow suit, cheering on their mother.

“Hello, I am Y/N. I’m Min-ah, Si-ah and In-soo’s mother. I’m sorry if you can’t understand my Korean, I’m trying really hard to become fluent.” She says while In-so sits in her lap playing with her hands.

Her oldest quietly speaks up to the camera “Hello I’m Min-ah, my English name is Mina.”

“And I’m Si-ah and my English name is Sandara. This is my younger brother In-soo, and his English name is Isaiah.” The second gets up from her seat to get at eye level with her brother. Her enthusiastic coos while holding the cheeks of her younger brother with her hands. The entire family begins to join the youngest as he giggles out.

How many languages does your family know?

“Our girls are fluent in English and Korean. They speak to us in both languages Joshua responds back in Korean and I respond back in English and more recently Tagalog.”

“Our son In-soo picks up English a little better than Korean just because I’ve been able to practice with him because of touring. I’m hoping through this show I’ll be able to accomplish that.”

“We’re not pushing them too much when it comes to picking up the languages I know, we’re learning it slowly throughout our daily lives.”

What was in the suitcase?

“It has pictures of my designs and models. My business partner and I have an upcoming spring fashion launch. I was just looking over the order to on paper to see if I need to make any changes.”

“After having met her through Jeonghan, the two of them immediately found a shared sense of interest in fashion, my wife focused more on the design aspects while Jeonghan’s wife focused on the modelling. Before we knew it they became best friends.”

Why do you call Si-ah the youngest when she’s the middle child?

“Because she’s the youngest girl. I can call Isaiah that too but it gets confusing. So because he is the youngest boy, I call him Balong.”

Is there anything you want to tell the return of the Superman audience?

“I’m so happy to return to this show no longer as a guest but as part of the core members in this coming year. I hope through our different trials and tribulations you continue to cheer us on and perhaps that Korea will learn to be more kind to people like my children and wife.”

[raghavgypsonite]

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