#and just cool to be able to tap my earphones and have them light up

[realreadysetrose]

I just finished building one of those little book terrariums and it came with a tap light? Now I’m trying to mentally justify learning soldering just to hook up lights to my Hal costume.

The possibilities of smacking myself against a wall and causing my whole Hal build to light up like an error message are endless

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence, PTSD, Mentions of sex, sexual activity

Part 9 Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Sorry this one took a little while, I was super busy in real life! I went back an forth on it alot and I don’t think I’m going to write full on smut, but definitely there will be mentions and allusions to sexual activity. Thanks for being patient with me for this part!

Once again, thank you for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful.

Taglist!: @vicmc624​ @officiallykuute​​ @undiadeestos​ @tailsoflightning​ @buckys2thicc​  @mischief-siriusly-managed​ 

On Christmas day, you and Bucky went over for dinner at Sarah’s. You had gone together in your car, gifts for everyone in tow. Hanging up your coat, you were greeted cheerfully by Sam, Sarah, and the boys. Bucky watched as you knelt down to hug the younger one. The warm glow of the entryway giving your hair an orange glow.

AJ grabbed Bucky’s hand and started dragging him to the living room.

“Uncle Buck, come look at the presents I got this year!”

You gave Bucky an amused smile when he looked at you first. Lifting your eyebrows, you nodded your head slightly. Watching him get tugged along, you chuckled to yourself before heading to the bathroom. You washed your hands before pressing them onto your cheeks to cool them. Letting your hands fall to the sink, your eyes fell upon the pearl earrings that were swinging from your ear, gold filigree glinting in the light. Delicately touching one of the pearls, you thought back to that morning.

You were in the kitchen, cooking up a special breakfast for the day. Normally, you skipped breakfast in favor of sleeping in, but with Bucky being up by 7 AM latest, you were starting to adjust to his natural schedule. It was hard to stay asleep when your personal heater got up and walked away. He had brushed the hair out of your eyes as you stirred, saying that he was going to go for a run and shower. Curse that beautiful fit bastard for waking you up every morning.

Not being able to go back to sleep, you had walked out of your room to find that he had also gotten the fireplace going. Alpine was curled up on the end of the couch closest to the fire. Now, you had a breakfast quiche and bacon going in the oven as you flipped the batch of pancakes on the stove.

“What’s all this?” Bucky said as he walked in through the front door, freshly showered.

“Special morning breakfast, of course.”

He walked over to you and kissed your cheek, crouching down to look through the window of the oven.

“Wow, look at that. What did I do to get so lucky?”

You chuckled as you put the last of the pancakes on the stack. Toweling off your hands, you opened one of the kitchen island drawers and pulled out a small blue box with a silver ribbon. You placed it on the counter in front of him, waiting expectantly.

“I got you something.” You were barely able to contain your excitement. Bucky held the box for a moment before gently tearing the wrapping paper. Quirking his head at the packaging, he looked up at you.

“Coms?”

It took you a second before you registered the lingo.

“Oh, no, they’re wireless earbuds.”

He opened the box and took the case out, flipping it in his hand to look at it in it’s entirety. You grabbed the manual and slid his phone over to you, turning on the bluetooth.

“Can you open the case?” you asked, not looking up from his phone. He did so, seeing the earbuds and a blinking green light. You tapped a few more things on the screen and the green light stopped blinking.

“Go ahead,” you said, nodding your head at him. He put in one earphone, then the other. You opened up Spotify, which you had downloaded on his phone for him to link to your account, and played a song from your ‘classics’ playlist. You could tell exactly when it started because Bucky’s eyes lit up and a huge smile started forming on his face.

“That sound quality is great!” He half shouted. You tried so hard not to laugh at the old man side of him. After listening for a few more seconds, he took one out of his ear and examined it.

“This is a great gift!” he said animatedly, pointing at the earbud in his other hand.

“I’m so glad you like it! I was thinking about the last time I sent you a recording of the concert, when you were on your last mission, and you said you didn’t have headphones.”

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you. But nothing will ever beat listening to you in person.”

The smile that he gave you as he said that made your face flush.

“I also have something for you,” he continued, fishing out a small box with a shiny gold bow from the pocket of his sweatpants. He held out the small maroon leather jewelry box for you to take. Looking at him curiously, you opened the box to see a set of dangling pearl earrings. The post of the earrings were reminiscent of French crest, the gold filigree encasing three tiny pearls. Hanging from each crest was a raindrop-shaped pearl.

“Oh my goodness, they’re beautiful, Buck.” You said as you laid out the earrings on your hand.

“Go try them on.”

He followed you to the bathroom where you put the earrings on and turned your head to admire them.

“These are beautiful.” You said as you turned to face him, linking your hands around his neck. “Thank you.”

“You look beautiful, and you’re welcome.” He smiled down at you, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Anything for my best girl.”

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out your sweater and walked back out to the living room where Bucky was letting AJ talk about all the different features of the toy dump truck he had gotten. You sat down next to Bucky and gave him a nervous smile. He smiled back and put a hand on your upper back, though it was quickly withdrawn when Sarah and Sam came in with drinks. You stood as you accepted one, looking at Bucky expectantly. Nodding slightly, he got up as well.

“Uhm, I have a small announcement to make.” You started nervously, your unoccupied hand tucking your hair behind your ear. The boys both stopped playing at your serious tone. Sarah tilted her head in confusion but Sam had a small smirk that was starting to grow.

“Bucky and I have started seeing each other.”

Sam’s smirk turned into a full fledged grin as he gave Bucky a hug.

“Congrats you guys. That’s amazing. I knew you two were great together.” He said as he moved to give you a hug as well. Sarah followed behind him, giving you an excited smile.

“What does that mean?” AJ asked, Cass answering him.

“It means that her and Uncle Buck are boyfriend and girlfriend, AJ.”

You laughed at the older one’s serious explanation.

“So does that mean they’re getting married and we should call her Auntie or Titi?” AJ continued.

You turned beet red, fanning your face as Bucky blinked, opening his mouth but not emitting any sound. Sam was laughing hysterically while Sarah tried to keep it together as she explained it to AJ.

“It means that they’re dating, so they like each other. No one’s getting married, at least not yet.” She said, turning back towards you and winking. You turned even redder, walking towards the kitchen while Bucky just grinned sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m so ready for dinner. Is anyone else hungry?” You asked as you walked away.

Sam, now calmed down, smiled genuinely at Bucky, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, bud. Are you happy?”

Bucky nodded, smile creeping onto his face.

“Very happy.”

“Good. You deserve it.”  

---  

That night, you settled into bed next to Bucky, propping your head up on your hand as you laid on your side facing him.

“How do you feel now that we’ve told everybody?” You asked, amused smile on your face.  

“I feel great. Sam was so happy for us, and the boys were so funny about it.” Bucky answered, turning to mirror your position.

“Weren’t they? I felt like I was going to die of embarrassment when AJ asked if we were getting married.”

He laughed and you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, your ear pressing against his chest as you listened to his heart beat. He brought his right arm up, rubbing your upper back soothingly. Humming in content, you nuzzled your face into your chest, bidding him goodnight.

“Goodnight, doll.” Bucky answered back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Breaths slowly syncing, you drifted off to sleep together.

---  

On New Year’s Day, you and Bucky were in the middle of making lunch. Breakfast had been slept through since you both had stayed up so late. Finally, you had triumphed over the man who always woke at 6AM. Alpine walked figure eights around your legs as you went around the kitchen. The last night had been spent in each other’s company, complete with champagne and a kiss to reign in the new year. You felt a flush come over your face as you remembered how his rough palm had slid up your leg and rested on your upper thigh. You had worn a sleek silky gold dress that showed a little more skin than you normally did. It was New Year’s Eve, you always dressed up. Bucky had offered to go change to match you, but you insisted he looked just as handsome in his dark-wash jeans and red Henley. You daydreamed about what might’ve happened had Alpine not jumped onto Bucky’s lap.

Your risqué thoughts were interrupted by the kettle whistling on the stove. Moving it off of the burner, you looked over at Bucky, who was looking incredibly domestic as he searched the fridge with his back to you. It has been a long time since you’ve felt anything akin to domestic bliss, yet it was hard to imagine anything else in its stead. Sitting on the barstool across the counter from him, you crossed you arms and leaned forward to catch his attention.

“Do you have any big plans for the New Year?”

Your question caught him off guard. He tilted his head to think, wiping his hands off on the dish towel hanging on the oven handle.

“Hm. I guess I hadn’t thought of it.” He leaned forward onto the counter, bearing weight against his forearms. “How about you?”

“I definitely want to spruce up the yard this upcoming Spring. You know, plant some flowers, make an outdoor seating area, maybe a pond?” Bucky nodded as you listed the various plans. You continued, voice growing softer. “I also want to finish physical therapy, to make this place into a home, to feel good about myself… Just really start getting my life on track. I’ve wasted so much of it already. Sometimes, I feel like I’m working so hard to swim to shore, but really I’ve just been treading water- moving nowhere. I want to be better, for me and for you.”

You looked down to the side wistfully, rubbing your arms as if to comfort yourself. Bucky reached out to put his hand over yours. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitating a moment to get his words straight.

“It’s frustrating when you don’t think you’re making progress. Everything you’ve been through feels like… yesterday and a lifetime ago, all at the same time. But progress doesn’t always look like what you think it looks like. Don’t sell yourself short. I think you’ve been doing a great job.”

He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed soft kisses against your knuckles. A shy smile came over your face as he pressed more kisses to your palm.

“Sam rubbing off on you, huh?” That earned you a quiet chuckle. “That does make me feel better… Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for you helping me with my one resolution for the new year.”

Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “Which is?”

“Spending more time with you.”

Your smile grew bigger and bigger before you leaned across the counter to kiss him. That was a goal you would happily help him reach.

---  

Sam needed to go to Washington D.C. shortly after the new year started. He was needed for a fundraising event for a new children’s hospital. Being the new Captain America, he was in a position to really help out if he made an appearance, so he signed up for the 5k race and the gala that was taking place the next weekend. How much better would it be though, if he had his right-hand man beside him? So here he was, in your living room, sitting across from Bucky as he gave his best pitch.

“C’mon, Buck. It won’t be so bad. You can outrun them, so you can avoid talking to people. Then later, you just have to take one picture with me in a tux, eat all the fancy food you want, and then escape back to the hotel!”

“I told you, I’m not really one for those big events.” Bucky responded as you made your way back to the living room with several mugs of coffee.

“Oooh, what big events?” You asked, handing them their respective cups.

“I was just telling Bucky that he should come to the charity event in DC for the new St. Jude facility.”  

“Oh, that sounds awesome! You have to go, Buck.” You chimed in excitedly, earning Sam a dirty look from Bucky.

Bucky slouched backwards into his seat. He really didn’t want to be apart from you, much less to be with a pack of sweaty people. It was hard enough to leave when it was absolutely necessary for Sam to have back-up. Now he was asking if he would do it recreationally? Not a chance.

“Could he bring a plus one? My holiday vacation extends through that weekend. I just need to be at rehearsal that Monday evening. Is that possible?” You faced Sam expectantly.

“We can definitely make that happen. The 5k is Saturday morning, and the gala is that night. You’ll have all of Sunday to travel back.”

It was Bucky’s turn to be looked at expectantly. Both you and Sam were staring at him with puppy eyes.

“Well, if you’re going, then it won’t be so bad.” He said, putting his arm around your shoulder. You and Sam cheered in victory, Bucky sneaking a glance at you as you celebrated. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of you clasping your hands together out of excitement. Of course, he’d go if you did. Being without you was pretty much the only real reason he had to not go. After all, he has a New Year’s resolution to fulfill.

---

You checked into the hotel on Friday evening, Bucky easily carrying both his and your luggage. You passed by large glass chandeliers, luxurious seating areas, and a huge ballroom that would host the gala tomorrow night. It was the first time in a long time that you had attended any high visibility events like this, but theoretically, you were fine. The odds of running into any unwanted company were slim to none, especially because you weren’t even sure if said company was still in D.C. Besides, you couldn’t hide away forever.

Maybe you were just on edge because this was your first trip away together. While you did spend most nights together at the house, you always had the safety net of having separate places to retreat. After being confined for so long, it was difficult for you to do anything without having a way out, in case things got messy. It was less about how you felt with Bucky, and more about how you felt with yourself. You did feel better, however, whenever you met his gaze and he gave you that soft smile. So, you looked up at him as you waited side-by-side at the elevator, and sure enough, he gave you what you were looking for. Subconsciously, you let out a deep breath, relaxing your shoulders some.

“You alright?” He asked, noticing your uneasiness.

“Yeah, I’m just tired from the flight.” You smiled back at him. Before Bucky could inquire further, Sam jogged up to where you were waiting.

“Sorry about that, I was figuring out the route for tomorrow.” He said just as the elevator dinged.

“No problem! You guys have fun with that, I’ll be bundled up by the finish line.” You laughed as you stepped into the elevator, pushing the 7th floor button.  

“You’re not running?” Bucky questioned, raising one eyebrow out of curiosity.

“I’d much rather not. There’s a reason why I’m a musician and not an Olympic athlete. I’ll just be cheering you on from the sides.”

You nudged Bucky’s arm with yours as the elevator doors closed. Sam glanced behind him as you two grinned at each other in your own little world. A small smile formed on his face as he shifted his eyes back forward. He couldn’t remember the last time that either of you looked this happy. It had been a long time coming, but so worth it.

The elevator dinged as it opened to your floor. Above the floral arrangement that was sitting on top of a polished wooden console table, was a sign that indicated which room numbers were to the left and the right of the hall.

“We’re room 711.” Bucky read off of the keycard. That meant you were going to the left.

“I’m in room 730 so I’m going this way. I’ll see you guys bright and early?” Sam asked, walking backwards towards his room as he pointed to you.

“Yup!” you replied.

“Yeah, see you then.” Bucky said as you both turned to walk towards your room.

Inserting the keycard, you opened the door to your suite and he followed behind, dropping the bags next to the bed. The room was definitely on the larger side, with the whole wall facing the city being glass. You walked over and pushed the floor length curtains to the side. Bucky pulled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before walking over to you.

“The view is amazing.” You admired, still in your coat and clasping your leather-gloved hands together. The different lights of the city gleamed like precious gemstones in the dark winter night. When you could finally tear your gaze from the window, you grabbed Bucky’s arm and looked up at him.

“What?” He questioned with a smile on his face.

“Nothing. It’s just exciting traveling with you.”

You tugged on his arm lightly to get him to lean down and kiss you. He gave you a teasing look but gave in regardless. Afterwards, you slipped off your gloves and started to shrug off your coat. Bucky quickly moved so that he was behind you and took hold of it so that he could hang it up for you. It’s little things like that, that show how soft and polite he was on the inside despite the gruff exterior he put on the outside for everyone else. He was always so gentle too. Between the door-openings, the coat takings, and the soft kisses he liked to press onto your hand, it could almost make you cry. Feeling the heat rise in your face from your overwhelming emotions, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath.

“Buck, I’m going to take a shower, do you need anything?” He hung your coat up and came back over to you, putting his hands on your waist.

“I’m okay. Enjoy your shower.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before picking the remote off of the table and turning the television on. Upon entering the bathroom, you shut the door with a soft click. You started running the water and glanced at your complexion before stripping down and stepping into the steaming water. It felt wonderful to wash the airport germs off. You opened the packaging of the complimentary soaps and shampoos, relaxing at the smells of lavender and green tea.  

The shower did wonders calming you down. Giving yourself a few more seconds under the hot water, you closed your eyes to appreciate how much nicer it was to stay at a hotel for recreation instead of escape. You cut off the water and rung your hair out, stepping onto the cushiony bath mat. It was then that you realized you hadn’t brought any clothes in with you. You cursed in your head as you wrapped on of the towels around you. You could ask him to bring the suitcase or pick out the clothes but you bit your lip as you made your mind up. Securing the towel around you, you cracked the door to the bathroom open. Now or never.

“Bucky, I just forgot to grab clothes, sorry.”

Bucky had been reclined back on the bed, one arm propping his head up so that he could see the TV. At the sound of your voice, he turned his head towards the bathroom and saw your reflection on the mirror across from it. His eyes followed your reflection until you yourself actually came into view. He swallowed hard as you walked past to the far side of the bed. Your eyes stayed trained on the floor, but the blush across your cheeks gave you away. You crouched over your suitcase to fish out some clothes, using a burst of courage to look up at Bucky. He had turned his head towards you, eyes shifting downwards to watch the droplets of water travel down from your wet hair onto your collarbone, then follow the curve towards the valley of your chest before it disappeared into the towel. Bucky coughed and then quickly shifted his eyes forward, apologizing as the red crept up his neck to his ears.

“Sorry…”

“Don't be.” You said quickly to put him at ease. Gathering the clothes in your arms, you got up to go back to the bathroom when he gripped your forearm. Your head snapped towards him and you stared at each other, the air seemingly growing thick in the room. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, glancing down your body once more before letting go.

“Sorry, I’ll let you get dressed.” He said sheepishly, bringing a hand the back of his neck as he looked downwards.

“Do you want to…?”

He looked up as you let the sentence dangle in the air. He wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t find the voice to say it. The notion of being together physically was still foreign to him and he was… insecure about his body. How attractive could it be to have all that scarring right at your eye line? And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to be with you that way, it was just daunting to leave himself completely vulnerable to someone when he had never been seen in that light before. The anxiety started to close in on him. Noticing his discomfort, you bent over slightly to meet his eye.

“Hey, there’s no pressure. Let’s give it some more time, Buck. There’s no rush.” You reassured him as you cupped his cheek with one hand, holding the towel to your chest with the other.

“I know. I’m sorry. I really want to. I’m just… nervous.”

“Hey, that’s okay. That’s totally fine. Here, let me get changed and then we can cuddle. Besides, we have an early morning tomorrow.”

Bucky agreed with you, giving you a weak smile. You smiled back at him and walked to the bathroom, getting dressed in your sleep shorts and t-shirt. After drying your hair, you walked back out to find the TV off and Bucky dressed in his usual shirt and boxers. He was half under the covers, avoiding your eye as he scrolled on his phone. Sliding into bed next to him, you gently took his phone from his grasp and leaned over to set it on his nightstand. Then you leaned over his face, cupping his cheek again.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Yeah. I am. Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t be sorry. I should’ve just asked you to bring my bag.”

“There was definitely nothing wrong with that. You’re just so attractive, it’s hard for me to not react.”

Your cheeks grew flushed as you smiled at him.

“I mean it.” Bucky said, now sitting up, causing you to lean back. He slowly leaned towards you until you were switched positions- you on your back and him leaning overtop of you. Your breath got caught in your throat as he leaned down to kiss you. The kisses were hungry, passionate, slowly growing deeper. Then, as you moved your arm to put around his neck, it brushed the length that was straining against his boxers. He let out a small groan into your mouth and you both opened your eyes in surprise, him pulling away. His words were breathy as he spoke first.

“I’m having a trouble… keeping it down. I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable.”

You sat up. “Bucky, are you kidding? We’re kissing. In bed. I’m kind of surprised I haven’t felt you get hard before.”

He blinked, the flush growing even warmer on his face. You were still slightly catching your breath as your expression softened. You gently put your hand over his, scooting closer to him. Your tone was gentler this time.

“Do you want help with it?” You nodded your head downwards. “I can touch it for you.”

Okay, Bucky didn’t think he could get any redder but he definitely just did.

“I’m… a little embarrassed.” He trailed off. You could definitely understand him being shy. You had been like that when you were still new to physically showing love. Thinking back, you remembered one thing that helped.

“How about I turn off the lights? Do you think it’d be okay then?”

There was a long pause before he answered quietly.

“Yeah.”

You gave him a reassuring smile before leaning over to your nightstand and turning off your light. Then you laid to face him as he turned his off. Now completely dark, you reached out until you felt his chest, coming closer until you were in his arms. Your hands slid upwards to cup his face, letting you know where to lean in to kiss him. You kissed for quite some time, sucking on his lower lip as your hands eventually slid to his chest. When he seemed to relax into that, you brought your hand lower until it brushed over the front of his boxers. It caused him to tense again, so you asked once more.

“Can I?”

You felt his chest rise and fall deeply before he whispered.

“Yeah.”

---  

Bucky felt the cold morning air come into his lungs as he took a controlled breath in. His grey hoodie was almost too warm to run in, even though it was the heart of winter. At the beginning of the 5k, he had kept the same pace with Sam. He had no interest in being the first to the finish line. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else. It had been going swimmingly until Sam started poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

Sam had noticed that something was different at breakfast. While they ate a light meal in preparation for the race, you had sipped on coffee as you talked animatedly about the different charities you had associated yourself with. Sam had been listening intently when he noticed how Bucky’s eyes kept shifting back and forth between the bagel on his plate and you. Sitting next to him, you hadn’t noticed. Being the astute observer that he was, Sam had watched as Bucky nervously chuckled when you turned to him for a response. You had made eye contact with Bucky and your complexions had grown flushed. To ease the awkward nervousness, you had quickly turned to Sam. He had squinted his eyes momentarily as he tried to figure out why Bucky was acting so strange, though he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind for later.

Later turned out to be a couple of hours after breakfast, in the first half of the race. You could tell Bucky was antsy from the crowd, so you settled on just squeezing his hands encouragingly before wishing him luck. Then, they were off. After outrunning the crowd and cameras, Sam and Bucky were now in a much more private setting- not quite jogging close enough to anybody else to make conversation.

“So,” Sam started, taking advantage of the seclusion, “How’re things going with her?”

“Good.” Bucky answered simply, sensing that there may be more follow up questions.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s great. We’re doing great.”

Sam slowed his pace slightly so he could catch his breath. “Just wanted to make sure. You seemed a little off at breakfast. Did something happen?”

Bucky swallowed and couldn’t hide the flush of red creeping up his neck as he remembered the previous night. It hadn’t taken him long to finish. Nobody had ever touched him intimately, and even if they had, it had been a long time since. You were more than happy with the extent of the physicality last night, all too satisfied to let him ride out his high, spilling into your hand with his face buried into the crook of your neck. But Bucky couldn’t stop the overthinking. The hesitancy, along with the telltale signs of embarrassment, gave Sam an inkling what it might be about.

“Oh, I take it something did happen.”

Bucky was not at all thrilled about Sam’s avid interest in the subject.

“Like I said, things are going well. But sometimes I get so wrapped up in my head about stuff.” Bucky said, moving past that subject. “It’s going a lot faster than I thought it was going to. Things were a lot… slower in the 40’s. And now that Steve’s gone, she’s one of the few people I have to lose, except she’s not a super soldier and she doesn’t have a powered-up suit to protect her.”

They jogged in silence for a moment.

“Honestly, it’s terrifying. Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve never started this because if something happened, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You know, if she was here right now, she’d probably smack you upside your head.”

Bucky gave Sam a look that could’ve withered a plant, but Sam just chuckled at him.

“Listen, what you’re feeling is normal, with anything there’s a risk. You’ve literally risked your life, for your entire life. Why?”

“Well, because it was the right thing to do.”

“Right. You always do the right thing because doing the right thing makes you feel good and gives you a sense of fulfillment. She also gives you positive emotions, but you’ve come up with a hundred reasons why not to be with her. Yes, you don’t want anything to happen to her, but you’re also hesitant because you don’t want something to happen to yourself. You’re afraid of getting hurt. We all are, that doesn’t make you weak. But missing out on what is potentially the best thing that ever happened to you, solely because you were afraid, makes you a coward.”

Bucky made another face but it was one more of resignation, regardless of how much disdain for Sam he had at the moment. He was telling the truth. If he stopped the relationship because of the potential outcome, he would be a coward for doing so. Whether he lost you emotionally from it not working out, or physically because of any potential enemies, if he were to stop now, he’d be a coward.

“Think about how much she’s putting on the line. She’s smart, Buck. She knows what she’s getting into and she knows the risk. But being with you is worth more to her than the potential risk. I think you feel the same way about her. If you feel anxious about it, talk to her. I’m sure she’ll reassure you. I will also reassure you if you ask me, but I’m sure you’d much rather talk to her.” Sam chuckled. “Sorry for being harsh, man. But, I think you needed to hear it.”

“I did… Thanks, Sam. You’re a good friend.” Bucky said, looking towards Sam

“Anytime.”

They jogged comfortably at their slower pace, letting a few joggers say hello and pass them. Once they were out of earshot, Sam got his classic mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

“So, what happened between you two last night? Or is it too Rated-R to say out loud? Just asking, because your skin is, like, glowing. You look refreshed and ready to go.”

Bucky threw his head back and let out a frustrated grunt before picking up the pace and sprinting to put distance between him and Sam.

“Hey. Hey!” Sam yelled as Bucky got farther and farther away, despite his best efforts to catch up to him. Once Sam was just a speck on the trail behind him, he relaxed into a more sustainable pace. He caught his breath and looked back, laughing at the image of a far-away Sam, shaking his fist at Bucky.

As much as he and Sam joked back and forth, he was thankful to have good friends. It’s definitely helped him feel better about missing Steve. Steve was afraid that if anything ever happened to himself, that Bucky would be left in the lurch. What really helped him at the time, was knowing that Sam would be there. So, when he had brought the idea up to Bucky, he mentioned that Sam was a good man, and that he would help Bucky a lot, but if Bucky needed him, then he’d stay. Bucky knew from the bottom of his heart that if he said that he didn’t want Steve to leave, Steve would’ve stayed and not resented him one bit. But Bucky would’ve had to live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life. So, he gave Steve a pat on the back and told him to go, and that he’d be fine with Sam. He deserved to be happy. Bucky, however, did not.  

And so, he damned himself to a life of continued torture and solitude. He ignored all of Sam’s texts and calls. He punished himself by going to lunch with the dad of a victim who was plagued by his son’s mysterious death- a son that was made a victim at Bucky’s hands. It took such a shock as a new replacement “Steve” to break the cycle. Then, it was just pure anger. It was anger at the world for doing Steve wrong, anger at the world for doing Sam wrong, anger at John Wyatt for besmirching the mantle that his best friend worked so hard to establish. It was anger at himself for being slow on making amends, anger at himself for still waking up shaken from the nightmares that haunted him. It was anger at himself for telling Steve that he would be just fine if he left.  

At the time, it was a bold-faced lie. Though, overtime it did end up being the truth. He helped the real Captain America take back the shield, and in the process, he saved people who had actually thanked him for it, as if it wasn’t what he was longing to do in the first place. He finally finished making his amends, giving peace to a number of families and himself. He even allowed himself to have a little bit of happiness by believing, even if just for a moment, that he belonged in the community that accepted him so easily in Louisiana. And now, he had you too. Beautiful, talented, kind you. You, who had embraced him with unabashed love. You, who wasn’t ashamed of who he was.  

Steve would’ve loved you.

Bucky hadn’t noticed the tears until one slipped onto his cheek, accentuating the cold. Somehow, though, this cold served to remind him that he was indeed alive. Despite all odds, he was here. What a fool he was to think that he would have been protecting you by staying distant. Bucky coughed and then sniffed, shaking his head before quickly wiping his cheek. Determined to see you, he ran at a steady pace until he saw you waving and cheering him on by the finish line. You were against the barrier about ten yards from the end of the race, slightly separated from the other crowds of people. Ignoring the finish line, he ran straight to you and gripped you by the shoulders.

“Buck, what’re you-”

He kissed you openly, surprising both you and the racers who gawked as they jogged past the scene to the finish line. You eventually pulled apart and looked at him with an incredulous giddy expression on your face, accented by your fingers gently touching your lips as if you didn’t believe what just happened.

“I love you.”

You blinked several times to process it before bursting into a grin that couldn’t get any bigger. Breathlessly, you responded.

“I love you too.”

---  

The gala was a huge success. They announced during the introductions that they had met their fundraising goal, which was greeted by a tremendous amount of applause. They spotlighted Sam, and subsequently you and Bucky, as they thanked Captain America and his right hand man for their support. After you had finished dinner, they whisked them both away for publicity. You felt a little bad as you watched Sam and Bucky get assaulted by camera flashes as every bigwig who donated towards the cause insisted on taking a picture with Captain America. Fortunately, you were watching from the comfort of your own seat, nursing a glass of wine while trying not to stain the glass with your lipstick.  

You then turned your head to watch the dance floor where a lot of the party was congregated, dancing in pairs to a waltz. Normally, events like these started off as a classical ball and ended in an atmosphere more like a nightclub after the older sponsors went home. You did love dancing, to either kind of music, but you weren’t sure if Bucky was the dancing type. Still, you wished that you could have at least one dance with him before it got too late. It was then that you heard someone call your name. Not Irina, but your name. You turned your head warily towards the voice.

“Hey! I thought that was you!”

“Oh my god Dev, you startled me!” You said in relief, standing up to give your friend a hug. He hugged you and then sat in Bucky’s unoccupied seat.

“I haven’t seen you in so long! You kind of disappeared off of everyone’s radar.”

You couldn’t miss the glance he took at your shoulder. The dress you were wearing, one of your favorites for the wintertime, had a flowing tulle champagne skirt that had gold floral accents. But from the waist up, it was a velvet red fluttered off-shoulder top with thin supporting straps that perfectly framed the scarring. You hadn’t really been planning on seeing anyone you knew so you hadn’t bothered covering up your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to keep a semi-low profile.”

“Well, whatever you’ve been doing has been working. You worried a lot of us. If it weren’t for Jules letting us know you were still alive, we would’ve called in a missing person’s report.”

You looked down sheepishly, embarrassed but happy that after all this time, your friends still remembered and cared about you. You tucked your hair behind your ear and fidgeted with one of the pearls on the earrings that Bucky had gotten for you.

“Yeah, I’m so excited for her wedding, you know she made me a bridesmaid?”

Unaware of your skillful redirection of the conversation, he replied excitedly.  

“I’ll be there too! Super happy for her. Her and Raul have been dating forever. It’s about time they get hitched.”

“Agreed. Speaking of, how’re you doing these days? Any lucky ladies in your life?” You leaned back in your chair and resumed your glass of wine.

“No ladies, but I did just get my big break.” He said with a wide secretive smile.

“Really?” You perked up. He leaned in as if he was going to tell you something confidential so you mirrored the movement. In a low tone, he explained.

“I just got hired to compose the musical score for a Netflix series. I’ve been working on it for months, and now we’re recording in three weeks at a studio in New York!”

“Dev!” you exclaimed loudly, “That is absolutely amazing! I’m so happy for you! You’re going to be the next John Williams, I just know it.”

He gave you a big smile. Across the room, Bucky was looking in your direction, attention caught by your excitement.

“Who’s that?” He asked Sam discreetly between pictures.

“I don’t know. Maybe a fan?”

Bucky’s eyes lingered in your direction until the photographer called his attention.

“You know,” Dev started, “We’re still in the selection process for the piano player since we were torn between two options, but you blow them both out of the water.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes though.”

“Nonsense. I’m the composer so I get to choose my orchestra! And you’ll love the series. It’s about an orphan in the 1960’s who’s a chess prodigy. She destroys different chess tournaments and battles addiction. She ends up playing the best of the best in Russia by the end of it. It’s called Queen’s Gambit- based on a book with the same name. Who better to have recording for Queen’s Gambit than the Reigning Queen of Russian Classics? You can come see Jules too. The studio’s not far from her place.”

The offer was extremely tempting, but you weren’t sure how ready you were to throw caution to the wind. He must’ve caught onto your hesitation, so he gave another pitch to you.

“I know you’ve been out of the limelight for a long time, but this is your chance to bring your name back into the mix. And the series won’t be released until later this year so no one will know you’re in New York if that’s what you’re worried about. Not until long after you’ve finished recording.”

You bit your lip. You’re resolve was crumbling.

“How long is recording?” You asked tentatively.

“Our target is three studio days, but we booked four just in case- Monday through Thursday. Is that okay?”

“Well… I’m performing right now under a stage name with an orchestra. But the rehearsals have been going really well since we’ve been playing together all season. I could give them a recording of me playing the pieces for that week that they could practice to. Before I get ahead of myself though, can I just ask one thing?”

“You can have whatever you want.” You cracked a smile at that.

“Can you keep it a secret that I’m going to be there? You can use my name in the credits but I don’t really want any media coverage while I’m in New York.”

“Absolutely. Done.”

It was hard not to feel absolutely giddy. If it were someone you didn’t really know, you wouldn’t do it, but you trusted Dev to abide by your wishes.

“Well, I’ll email the orchestra head and if he says yes, then I’m in.”

Dev cheered, causing several heads to turn towards him. You could barely hold your laughter as he quickly apologized to those around him. When you both settled, the lights started to dim slightly, and the music switched from instrumental to lyrical. You and Dev looked out to the dance floor. Still slower paced, but modern, perfect for slow dancing to.

“Care to dance?”

Your head snapped towards Dev who was holding out his hand.

“I think that I might be ahead of you in line, pal.”

Bucky placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in. Happy that he was back, you set one of your hands over his and looked up at him.

“All done with the paparazzi?” You joked with a big smile on your face that reassured Bucky.

“Yeah, finally. Who’s this?” He nodded his head towards the man sitting in his seat.

“This is Dev Addison, a friend of mine from Julliard.”

Bucky extended his hand in greeting, Dev standing up to shake his hand.

“Dev, this is Sergeant Barnes.”

He looked to you and then back to Bucky incredulously.

“Wow, it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for always keeping us safe.”

“I’m happy to it.” He responded as you got up as well.

“Well,” you started, straightening out your skirt. “I think I’ll have to ask for a rain check, Dev. I’ve been waiting all night for them to be done with him.” You said with a grin as you looked up at Bucky, him reciprocating.

An amused smile came upon Dev’s face as he saw the look between you two. You looked happy. After so long, it was good to know that you were at least okay.

“No problem,” he said good-naturedly. “Let me know ASAP when the orchestra head replies!”

“Will do!”

You both waved goodbye and you started walking hand in hand with Bucky to the area where people were dancing. You put one hand in his and the other on his shoulder as he put his other on your waist, tentatively swaying to the music together.

“So, Dev offered me a job. It’s a four day contract to record music that he composed for a television series. It’s going to be at a studio in New York at the end of February.”

“Wow,” Bucky said with raised eyebrows. “That’s exciting. Are you going to take it?”

“I think so.” You said slowly but firmly. “I just have to wait for the orchestra to approve it.”

“That’s great.” Bucky said encouragingly, noticing a different emotion mixed in with your excitement. “What’s wrong?”

“I just haven’t been to New York in a while. It just makes me feel a little nervous about getting back out into the world. I know you know how that feels, on a much bigger scale. But another part of me is excited to get back into big projects like these.”

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “But I think if you want to, then there’s no harm. It’s only a few days and it’s just for recording. You could stay at a hotel so you could have some space if you don’t want to stay with your friends.”

You looked like you were thinking, so he didn’t say anything else. Instead, you danced together closely as you listened to the lyrics of the song.

And you say that you’re not worth it

You get hung up on your flaws

Well, in my eyes you are perfect

As you are

“John Legend, I think.” You said quietly as rested your cheek against his shoulder. Bucky hummed in response, touching his lips to your forehead.

I will never try to change you

I will always want the same you

Swear on everything I pray to

That I won’t break your heart

Bucky glanced down at the necklace that rested perfectly in the space between your collarbones, the one that you had fixed with the brooch he gave you. The emerald was now fitted in gold plating, set between two delicate pearls. It matched the earrings he had given you perfectly. You could’ve worn or bought plenty of other jewelry, but you continually wear these because they make you happy and they show off to the world that he favored you.

I’ll be there when you get lonely

Keep the secrets that you told me

And your love is all you owe me

And I won’t break your heart  

“If I go to New York, will you come with me?” You looked up at him with an endearing look, the dim chandelier leaving a residual glimmer in your eyes.

“Of course, I will.” He said softly, giving you a classic Bucky smile. You laughed as he twirled you once before dipping you. He held you like you weighed nothing, pressing his lips against your cheek as you giggled.  

“I love you.” You said, a dreamy look on your face. A huge smile spread over Bucky’s face, and he reciprocated while gazing at you from under hooded eyelids.

“I love you too.”

[blueprint-han]

pickup lines ↠ hhj ♡

             ↳ inspired from the song i love you by treasure. (no relation to the song idk why i was inspired)

genre: fluff type: drabble word count: 1.9 K ⇥ warnings: none except one (1) teeny tiny kiss (just a peck nothing too suggestive), lot’s of fluff and pickup lines and that’s a warning. 🥺 IF THIS DOESN’T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS THIS TIME I WILL FUCKING FUME. network tag: @stayverse​

↯ note: uhfuyewhf please forgive this random outburst that overcame me, fluffy boyfriend hyunjin is just !!!!. Also my first fic woo hoo !! no particular premise of this blurb idk what this is for but i’m still gonna write it. ⇥ dawn.☀️

A long, deep sigh.

A cheek pressed against his palm, resting his head against his elbow as he stared off into space. The library was relatively quiet around him, no other sound other than the timely flipping of the page by the two other people sitting in the almost empty, spacious room.

And of course, the sound of you humming the tune that poured through the earphones you were sporting. Hyunjin could almost swear that he would fall asleep from the tune, if it weren’t for the hard wood underneath him.

Hyunjin pouted when he noticed you completely immersed in your sociology 101 textbook. Studying to be a data analyst was hard, and while it was both yours and Hyunjin’s dream job, (instead of focusing on the plethora of books lying on the table) Hyunjin found staring at the love of his life much more interesting than analyzing any sort of data.

Sunlight poured in through the open window. It was still fairly early in the morning, and while Hyunjin hated waking up early, he was more than ready to do so the moment you called him the previous night, begging him to tag along on the pretext that “it would be boring to go alone.”

And the moment you entered the library, you picked out your books and quickly drowned yourself in them, and in less than five minutes, Hyunjin found himself the one who was “bored.”

You felt a poke at the side of your arm, startling you out of your concentration.

“Hey.”

Pulling your earphones off, you smiled at Hyunjin. “Yeah?”

“You said you’d be the one bored but now I’m the one bored.” Hyunjin humphed, folding his arms across his chest. “Remind me why I accompanied you?”

You laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “Because you’re a good boyfriend.”

Being the dramatic llama that he was, Hyunjin rolled his eyes, though the subtle smile on his lips told you otherwise. “Fine finish it soon now.” He pointed before poking your arm again. “Or I’m gonna leave you and get subway for myself.”

You gasped in fake betrayal, clutching your heart as your eyes widened. It was a known fact that Hyunjin was too smitten for you, far too caring and considerate to leave you alone in the library without breakfast. And you loved to tease him about it.

Anyways, the act faltered in two seconds the moment you giggled at him.

“You’re adorable, have I ever told you that?” You mimicked his position as you faced him, admiring how he looked at the moment. Heavily lidded eyes, messy black hair, and the sunlight from behind him almost made him look like he was glowing.

At your words, Hyunjin felt the tiniest blush creep up his cheeks as he shyly admitted. “You tell me every day!”

“Well I’m going to keep telling you that, so…” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your books as hyunjin internally groaned. The library didn’t allow use of phones either, so he couldn’t just start playing around with it to kill time.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, his eyes sparkled when a thought popped into his head, a smug look on his face. Quickly grabbing his cellphone from the back of his pocket., his fingers moved against the screen — not quick enough for the librarian to notice — but at this point, it hardly mattered. The librarian was almost asleep on his table — he must’ve not adjusted to the early hours of his job very well.

When your phone dinged — signifying the arrival of a message — Hyunjin watched intently as you picked up your phone and tapped the screen a couple of times. When you grinned widely, Hyunjin knew his message had the desired affect. In all honesty, that was Hyunjin — always looking for subtle ways to tell you he loved you, and ways to keep you smiling and happy.

You reached over to push your reading classes up your nose before turning to look at Hyunjin’s direction, raising your eyebrow playfully.

Hyunjin:  Guess what I’m wearing?

He had a similar grin on his lips as he silently coaxed you to reply, and so you did just that.

You: What? Your uniform? 🤭

Knowing Hyunjin, you knew that the answer would not be so simple, but nevertheless you curiously waited for the answer.

When the reply came in, the smile on your face turned into a wide, ear-to-ear smile, cheeks almost hurting with how widely you were grinning. You tried desperately trying not to alert anyone of what you were doing, but it was getting harder with how adorable Hyunjin was being.

Hyunjin: No, the smile you gave me. You: usdyuegwydedh 🥺🥺🥺 You: you cheesehead! 😘😤 Hyunjin: But I’m your cheesehead - ;D

Hyunjin, still staring at you was in a similar state. He admitted that watching you laugh and smile was something he could never grow tired of. He treasured that moment, and it always seemed like you lightened up the whole room with just your smile.

“Hey!” you looked at him, books totally forgotten as you stared into his eyes.

“They say the eyes are the mirror to the soul.” Hyunjin said, straightening up his posture as you eyed him confusedly. “You must have one beautiful soul.”

Your jaw dropped open at the sudden explosion of pickup lines coming from your boyfriend, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you felt yourself grow coy at his compliment.

“Oh gosh, what’s gotten into you.” You whispered, slapping his arm slightly. Hyunjin smiled devilishly when he noticed your beaming face, feeling oddly relaxed — but then again, he was always relaxed when he looked at you.

“ On a scale from 1 to 10 you’re a 9 and I’m the 1 you need. “

You gasped, squealing as you slapped his arm yet again.

“Oh lord, your cheeseball stop being so cute my heart can’t handle this.” You pouted, and Hyunjin bit back the overwhelming desire to squish your cheeks.

He always did everything in his power to make you happy, and it never changed, even after a year of dating. The love between you was pure in every way, and you couldn’t help but feel lucky to have such a caring and lovely angel for a boyfriend.

“Come on, I need to focus now, just half an hour more?” You managed to convince him (only after giving him your traditional puppy eyes which you knew he would never be able to resist), before turning your attention back tot he book.

Twenty minutes passed. Hyunjin had found himself a book to read in the mean time, but he wasn’t the type to be patient. It wasn’t ling before he reached for his phone yet again.

When your phone dinged again, you quickly snapped your attention from where it was fixed on Hyunjin, hiding it under the table as you stealthily read the message.

Hyunjin: Can we go eat now?

You laughed to yourself, brushing hair off your forehead before replying.

You: There’s still 10 minutes left 🤭 Hyunjin: Please I’m hungry 🥺 Hyunjin: pls pls pls pls pls pls pls 🥺

You quickly looked at the watch before sighing, smiling at Hyunjin before shutting your book and stretching your arms out. You’d been there for about two hours, since your college library opened fairly early. As expected, Hyunjin let out a silent squeal of victory, quickly helping you pack up before getting out of his seat, all to eager to get out of the cramped space.

“Remind me to never tag along with you again.” He chided playfully, and like you said before, you knew Hyunjin was too soft to be able to ignore your pleas — and even if he did, you had your secret weapon: puppy eyes. You only giggled and nodded. “yeah, whatever.” Allowing him to intertwine your fingers together as he pulled you out of the building.

Once you were out of the building and walking towards the nearest subway, you decided to go the park (which was incidentally opposite to the subway shop). As you walked in the almost empty park, you munched on your sandwich slowly, whilst Hyunjin had already devoured it all. You figured he didn’t drink his coffee before coming to the library, and you didn’t bother to ask either.

Hyunjin had still not et go of your hand, and every once in a while — out of pure habit — he would squeeze it gently, just as a form of reassurance. It never failed to warm your heart.

The both of you found a clean bench under the cool shade of a tree, enjoying the breeze as you finished your sandwich; while Hyunjin simply looked around the rows of trees and plants that were planted along the edge of the ground.

When Hyunjin caught your gaze on him once again, another thought popped into his head as he smiled yet again. Personally, he had no idea how he was acting so cheesy today, but seeing your reaction did not encourage him to stop.

“Do you have a map?” You boyfriend asked all of a sudden, and you frowned confusedly. Of course, you’d let your guard down from the previous explosion of cheesiness, which only fueled it more.

“Why do you ask?” You murmured.

“Because I keep getting lost i your eyes.”

“Aghhhh,” you groaned, covering your face with your palms as you looked at Hyunjin. “Where do you even get these from?” You pouted at him.

“I don’t know, maybe you bring it out of me?” Hyunjin shrugged.

“Hmph,” You pinched his soft cheek lightly, smiling as you did so.

Next, he grinned, tilting his head to the side as he gazed into your orbs. You sensed another attack coming ahead, but did nothing to stop it, because deep down, you were enjoying this way too much.

“You know at this angle, as the light hits your eyes.” A dizzy smile on his face as he gently fixed his hair, tucking some of the strands behind his ear. “I can see myself and I look great.”

That caused you to close your eyes, erupting into a fit of giggles as your eyes morphed into the softest of crescents.

Hyunjin opened his mouth yet again, but this time, you were quick to stop him.

“Ah, no young man. No more, or I’m gonna combust.” You tucked your own hair behind your ear.

“Nooooo,” He whined, pouting as he gave you the softest look that he could muster. “One more, please? Just one. Please please please please please-”

“okay fine! One more, and then no more, deal?” You looked at him smugly, and he nodded.

“Okay so, kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Hyunjin had chosen that line for a joke, expecting to get yet another slap on his arm, or a shy turn of your head. What he didn’t expect was for you to blush profusely before you leaned in, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

When you pulled away, Hyunjin’s eyes were widened as you stared at each other silently for two seconds, before you snapped your fingers in front of him, pulling him out of his daze.

“You were wrong.” You stated as nonchalantly as possible, shrugging at him as you got up, grabbing your bag as you began walking towards the exit.

“H-hey, wait for me!” Hyunjin cried, not being able to suppress his smile as he ran towards you, immediately entwining your fingers once again. And the rest of the walk was spent just like that, in peaceful silence as you enjoyed each other’s presence in the cool, moist air.

“You’re such a goofball,” You mumbled at him, gaining his attention as you rubbed your thumb against the back of his hand. And before he could even reply with his loving, playful gaze, you completed the statement yourself, eyes twinkling in content.

“But you’re my goofball.”

↯ note: i pray to every god out there please just show up in the tags for fuck sake i worked hard on this ; - ; ⇥ dawn.☀️

[doomedandstoned]

Iron Man Cement 30-Year Career with Monumental Double Album (+ new song!)

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

This is more than an album. It is more, even, than a portrait of quintessential New England doom metal. It is a testament to the enduring power of music and friendship to bring a collective dream to life and to sustain it to the bitter end.

The new double album 'Hail To The Riff' (2021) showcases 14 anthems by Maryland doom legends IRON MAN. With the exception of one previously unreleased studio song, the bulk of the material was performed live at Castle of Doom Festival in Pagazzano, Italy on Saturday, July 5th, 2014. It was the band's one and only trip to Italy, now being released for the first time (appropriately enough) by Italian label Argonauta Records.

Many of you know the Iron Man story. Founded back in '88 as a Black Sabbath cover band, the guys gradually started playing their own compositions and were ecstatic by the positive reception the original material received. Iron Man released their first album in '93 and over the course of many decades, went on to tour the world with the likes of Cathedral and Pentagram, composing many a doom standard along the way ("Hail To The Haze" will forever be my fav).

"In the beginning, Iron Man had two jobs," guitarist Al Morris told Doomed & Stoned some years back. "First, we were a Sabbath tribute. We were able to headline shows and get people talking about the band. Second, we were writing original music for a demo to shop. Everything went as planned! By May of 1992, we got signed to Hellhound Records in Germany. That kind of history, coupled with the internet, gave us worldwide exposure. The fans did not let us get frustrated! We are totally motivated by our fans. We have them in mind at all times." (Read the classic Doomed & Stoned interview with Iron Man.)

It should surprise no one that Hail To The Riff   is dedicated straight up to Alfred Morris III, who sadly died in 2018. As he was the longest-standing member of Iron Man and its most consistent face, it made sense when the group disbanded after the passing of its founding member.

"The Type of person my father was," Al's daughter reflects, "he never expected anything huge. He just enjoyed doing what he loved. Music was in his blood; part of his DNA and he wasn’t complete without it...As long as I can remember, Iron Man was a large part of my dad’s life, and mine. My first rock show? My dad’s band. The first live show I ever saw was Iron Man. Watching my dad perform, I saw him transform. He had this amazing stage presence. An effortless grace when he played guitar that was mesmerizing. Even though I had seen him play a thousand times, I was always impressed!"

I spoke with Screaming Mad Dee Calhoun in 2018, near the 30th anniversary of Iron man and just a few months following Al's death. "Just on a personal note, I don't think anything I'm doing now," Dee reflected, in reference to his burgeoning solo career, "would have been possible without being a part of Al and Iron Man. Al was very supportive of my efforts outside of Iron Man, be it music or writing or what not. I can never thank him enough for just tapping me on the shoulder and saying, 'Hey I want you to join my band?'" Dee continued, "No one I ever knew who knew Al ever had a bad word to say about him. He was just one of those guys who was a positive influence on people. Once he touched a project, it was better than before he touched it. We certainly miss him.

As a follow-up I asked hnw people could get better acquainted with Al's contribution and really hear his spirit. Dee replied, "Just start with Black Night and work forward. He would want to be remembered by his music. Just sit back and enjoy what he had to bring to the world." That album's title track is no. 13 on the playlist below us, and Al shines just as bright on it here as he did on their cardinal opus. What band could hope for a better life than Iron Man had, with their unlikely success leading them to record five LPs and three EPs, crossing some of the world's greatest record labels?

Hail To The Riff   begins with a cheering throng and the grungy downtuned riffing of Al Morris, to be joined in short order by Louis Strachan on bass and Jason "Mot" Waldmann on drums. At last, Screaming Mad Dee belts out hellfire and brimstone in his scratchy quasi-operatic style (who, it must said, has one of the most intimidating voices in all of metal). "Make some goddamn noise!" The crowd eats it up, of course.

At this point, I'd advise you to make any room corrections you need to, as live recordings tend to be a unique beast all their own. They always sound a little "thin" and "boxy" to me. I found simply turning the volume up a few notches more than for casual listening brought this live recording alive for me. I did not, however, tempt fate by listening with earphones (I'm already dealing with enough tinnitus from my many years of filming live shows).

"The time is here to strike fear. We are Iron Man, bringing you 25 years of Maryland doom!" That really fires up the festival for what would become the band's third and final live albums. If this had been your first time hearing Iron Man, you would encounter a group in top form with accessible songs like "Run From The Light" that capture so powerfully the spirit of metal, itself a kind of freak born of the age of electricity.

Since I don't have perfect pitch, I would be hard pressed to determine just where Al's axe is tuned for this set. Judging from tracks like "The Worst and Longest Day'' and "South of the Earth," let's just say it's low enough to confuse the guitar sometimes for the bass (and when you listen a second time, the bass is often hitting a similar if not lower range). Remind me to ask the guys next time I get a chance and I'll add a note to this article with their answer. I'll be there were a lot of fans that day who were really feeling that Iron Man vibe on a raw, gut level as the sound reverberated through from their internal organs, ultimately grabbing hold of their spine with a mighty grip of doom, and shaking their bones like a rattle.

I've always said the acid test of any band is their ability to pull their songs off convincingly in a live setting. So many things can go wrong, but the way a band bounces through the hurdles of that 30-60 minute set tells you everything. You know right away whether you're dealing with confident musicians who believe it to the core, or wannabes who are fronting a hype machine. To hear Dee make "South of the Earth" work without the cool vocal layering from the recording and still give you chills says everything you need to know about the integrity of Iron Man as a band.

Time for the bottom line. Hail To The Riff   is nothing less than a celebration of metal-making, friendship, and the mysterious power of the riff to compel us -- no matter who we are, what language we speak, or what our differences may be -- to assemble together as a sweaty mass under a hot Italian sun in the middle of summer and revel in the pure love of heavy music. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture yourself there.

Of course, the real treat for Iron Man acolytes is going to be the solemn 14th and final track, "Black Morning." The band recorded it in late-September of 2013, just days before South of the Earth saw its release on Rise Above Records (later on Metal Blade Records, too). Hearing the words and the instruments meet in such perfect execution and conviction brought a single thought to my mind: "These guys really get doom." Long live the ferocity and might of Iron Man!

The album is officially out this Friday on digital outlets, with a special gold vinyl 2XLP available via Argonauta Records. Right now, Doomed & Stoned is letting you revel in it all! So sit back, turn those speakers up, and...

...give ear.

Iron Man - Hail The Riff

Tracklist

The Fury

Run From the Light

The Worst and Longest Day

Ruler of Ruin

South of the Earth

Grown

As the Gods Have Spoken

Hail to the Haze

Sodden With Sin

A Whore in Confession

On the Mountain

Fallen Angel

Black Night

Black Morning

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 02

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.

Or

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,083

Note: I am actually not American so if I depict the American school system, police system or any system incorrectly then I am really sorry!

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

You awaken from your not-so-graceful sleep only to see that it was 1:50pm and you had overslept. Oversleeping was very a common thing for you because you often forgot to set your alarms. You’ve trained your body to wake up at specific times from your unchanging routine which is why you were awake, minutes before your meeting with the goddamn Officer and very much not ready. You rushed out of bed with so much force that your self-induced blanket burrito rolled out onto the floor where you laid limply, regretting the brute force you had gotten up with. However, you didn’t learn anything from your mistake and continued with that same force towards the bathroom only to hit your bathroom door square in the face. 

You made it on time, looking somewhat presentable (you tried your best in the compressed time limit). Alex offered you a ride which helped unbelievably because you were incredibly late. You speed-walked to the front counter wand asked the secretary where to go. She looks at you plainly and before replying with much annoyance. “Officer Jeon instructed me to refer a message to you. The perpetrator confessed to the crime late last night and the case has been closed, we will no longer been needing your time.” Oh. Your heart began to sting a little at the realisation that you will never see the officer again but the realisation that you were free overpowered the pain. You smiled while walking towards the door but your happiness was short-lived. You spotted the attacker, hand-cuffed. You locked eyes for the second time although they seemed a lot less manic. 

He didn’t recognise you, that was clear enough but you knew you’d never be able to forget him and that thought scared you. Enough so to leave you frozen in the middle of the station. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before an officer shook your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You didn’t really look at her before nodding, a smile on your face as you thanked her a sped out of the building. You walked back to your dorm with only one thought on your mind. 

_______________________________________________

Morning classes were a bore and you often found yourself reciting the entire script of a movie instead of writing notes. You looked concentrated and teachers never noticed so it never really harmed anyone, except your GPA of course. It had been just over 2 weeks since you became the hottest news on campus and it blew over quite quickly. The buzz was bound to return though because the student who was attacked, William, was set to return to school that day. 

You were fired from your job at the store (because apparently hiring college students was problematic) which meant you had to spend your weekend tutoring privileged high schoolers instead. It was a Tuesday and you were at lunch when William approached you with a light tap on your shoulder, you removed your earphones from your ear and turned to face him but the moment your eyes landed on his face you could feel your lunch creeping back up. 

You were too scared to approach him yourself so you left a get-well-soon card and a teddy bear for him at the hospital which you assumed was why he was there. “I just wanted to thank you for that night, who knows what would’ve happened if you didn’t call the police when you did.” You smiled but it was half-hearted. Your mind was filled with a quiet chant of ‘it should’ve been me’ every time you saw his face. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’m glad you’re okay.” You awkwardly gestured a thumbs up which was meant to be reassuring before you put your earphone back in and went back to your sandwich. Trying to shut up before you embarrassed yourself further ended quickly when he tapped your shoulder lightly again. 

“I’m sorry to bother you again but I was kind of wondering, did you know him? You know the student who…” “No, sorry I didn’t.” You answered quickly because you wanted the conversation to be over as soon as possible but you might’ve come off as rude. You noticed a glint sadness in his eye, a need for closure, a need to know he did nothing wrong. “I don’t think he had a motive for doing what he did to you though. From what I know, you’re a nice guy, I mean your hospital room had flowers everywhere.” He chuckled a little before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. 

“You visited?” It was just then that you remembered that you had forgotten to sign the card. “Oh! Yes, I left a bear there it was pink, kind of ugly but it was the best thing the gift shop had. It was either that or a Giraffe that said ‘it’s a boy!’” You were rambling, you knew that much but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. “Thank you, for everything…” “Y/N.” “Right, Y/N. Maybe we can get coffee sometime or something?” You gulped while in deep thought, you weren’t sure if you could ever make it up to him but you were willing to try. “Sure!”

Once he left, you stared back at your deflated peanut butter sandwich before poking at the stale bread. “Ah, fuck it.” You threw away your crusty sandwich and walked to the nearby cafe which you often avoided like the plague during lunch hours because it was bustling with students. That day was an exception, you needed carbs and you needed them stat. You walked into the cafe, ready to order cheesy fries when you saw him. Officer Jeon. You cursed under your breath and allowed yourself to stare a little. You knew officers often came here since it was around the station but you had never seen him there. 

You were waiting in line while he sat down with 2 of his co-workers. You watched them pick up the menus and discuss what they wanted to eat. You were invested in staring until a loud voice startled you. “Next waiting.” That was your cue and you almost missed it staring at the Officer with obvious heart eyes. You held the little table number concoction in your hand as you made your way to sit in the far corner seat where you always sat. But you didn’t go as unnoticed as usual. The incident was still fresh news for the a few students even though it had been 2 weeks. Some students thought you were a hero while others remain confused because “does she even go here?” But the majority never really cared about you but stared anyway because that was the way society worked. You sat and slowly retracted into a small ball of dismal anxiety while you waited for your cheesy fries to arrive. 

“Hey isn’t that the awkward kid that you questioned, Jeon?” The officer parallel to him asks loudly, clearly pointing at you which made you retract into the corner even further. “Oh yeah I saw her at the station, poor thing she looked so helpless.” To make matters worse, the woman next to him was the one who checked on you at the station. To top off the embarrassment, Officer Jeon turned around to look at you right when you accidentally smashed your toe on the edge of the table while trying to grab your bag. You winced and chanted “ow, ow, ow, ow,” until you abruptly stopped after realising you were being watched by 3 amused officers. 

You managed a small smile and a wave before you grabbed your laptop from your bag and tried to distract yourself from the major discomfort you had endured. Everything went well for a collective amount of 37 seconds before the man you found intimidatingly attractive sat on the seat opposite yours. You peeked over your laptop a little because for some reason you believed that if you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see you. However, his tall physique allowed him to clearly see you crouched behind the laptop screen. “Hey.” You feigned a smile and pretended to not be completely disturbed by his presence. “Hi.” You squeaked back before internally slapping yourself for sounding so timid but unfortunately your handbook on social interactions seemed to lack a chapter that covered ‘how to talk to attractive police officers who you are low key crushing on but can never be with for longer than 2 seconds without combusting into a nervous mess’. 

“How’s everything going? I heard you visited the station looking a little scared.” You chuckled nervously, your laugh becoming slower and slower before dissipating into an awkward silence. “You see, that wasn’t me that was just someone who happened to look a lot like me. You know, me and my common face.” These were moments you wished you could forget because your communication skills were frankly astonishing. However, instead of worrying over your inability to make small talk, he laughed. Officer Jeon laughed at something you said and it was super fucking cute. 

“You know Y/N, you’re really…unique?” You held back a snort as you laughed under your breath. “You seem so shy and timid but you looked like you were going to bite my head off at the station.” You started violently chugging your water down, this time for far too long because you didn’t want to reply. “Well, you see I was very…dehydrated? And you know what dehydration can do to someone.” You were never a very good liar which proved to be an important skill in times like such. 

He curved his eyebrow at you questioningly but didn’t care to press further, soon after the waiter came with your cheesy fires. You thought it would be rude to eat in front of him so you just stared at the bowl quietly. “Aren’t you going to eat?” “Yeah I was just waiting for it to cool down.” You awkwardly crouched to slowly blow on your cheesy fries which just made him stare at you amusingly. “You’re a weird kid, Y/N. I’ll get going now, it was nice catching up.” You nodded before William crossed your mind. You lunged forward to tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving. “Wait, do you think you could um, tell me what happened with the case?” “Meet me here tomorrow at 5 and I’ll tell you what I can.” And with that, he left. 

“And thEN HE LEAVES, HE JUST LEAVES ALEX, DOESN’T EVEN GIVE ME HIS NUMBER, OR EVEN HIS FIRST NAME?!?” You angrily protested to your friend who was more interested in her phone than the conversation. “Hey, Alex, are you even listening?” Your question fell on unhearing ears so you yelled again to catch her attention. “Alex!” “What?” She replied, a little annoyed but she didn’t push further at the sight of your glare. “I’m sure he was just leaving then because he had to, you know, special police business or something. I bet he’s into you, you’re adorable.” She ruffled the top of your head and you smiled bitterly. Compliments from Alex were normally out of pity and she had a lot to pity you for. She was prettier than you, nicer than you and uncannily good at socialising. This generally meant that whatever boy you were into, was into her. 

“Is he really that cute? I need to meet him.” “No! I mean, I don’t even know his name, it’s not important. Don’t waste your time.” Your abrupt exclamation made you feel a little guilty. You’d never voiced your insecurities with Alex and yet you held her completely accountable which was entirely unfair. “Oh, alright. So, what movie are we watching tonight?” Her attention was trained on her phone again as she asked the question. She looked up at you suddenly with pleading eyes and you knew exactly what she wanted. “Just go.” You waved her off with your hand and she didn’t hesitate before leaving you to go to her room. You allowed yourself to melt into the couch as you moped over spending another Friday night alone again. “Wait, Alex! Can I come with you?”

[sareyen]

Let Me Whisper In Your Ear, Darling (Cherik)

Read on ao3

Basically, Erik is an angry, horny college student who discovers audio porn made by one ProfessorXXX and becomes his #1 fan.

Erik was sitting in the library glaring at the screen of his old and beaten laptop, absent-mindedly twisting a paper clip hovering over the palm of his open hand. He had read and re-read his assignment ten times already, and he was still wondering why Professor Shaw had marked him down by eight marks.

Erik knew that his paper on mutant disadvantage in the female workforce had been good - good enough that he was sure that he shouldn’t have been docked eight marks. His asshole of a professor hadn’t even told him why he had been marked down, merely giving him a 42/50 and calling it a day.

“Sugar, glaring at your computer isn’t going to get Shaw to change your grade,” Emma said as she chewed on her spearmint gum behind her cool smile. Erik didn’t stop staring at his paper, flipping his friend off as he mouthed out the concluding sentences of his paper, still no closer to finding out ‘why the hell Shaw marked me down eight marks’.

“He’s a misogynistic piece of shit, Emma,” Erik gritted out, his friend letting out an amused huff, manicured nails clacking on her own computer.

“Not really. He gave me a pretty decent mark on my essay on the female mutant experience,” Emma said, flicking her immaculately curled blonde hair behind her shoulder, Erik finally peeling his eyes from his laptop to give her a seething look.

“That’s because he’s a misogynistic pervert who’s trying to pull sexual favours out of you by meddling with your grades,” Erik countered, Emma laughing.

“Oh, Sugar. You know he’d never try, not when I could just…” Emma vaguely gestured towards her head, corner of her mouth curled upwards. “And your grade isn’t even that bad by Shaw’s standards, so why are you so riled up?” Erik glared at Emma, who had plucked out his mark from inside his head. Emma looked thoughtful again, and Erik could feel her rifling through his brain with her ice-cold touch, making him growl and slap his mental shields over the things he really didn’t want her to see.

“Your boss is an asshole, Erik. Why don’t you just quit already?” Emma sighed, having seen how Erik’s boss at the coffee shop hadn’t paid him for the last week because he ‘forgot’ - for the second week in a row.

“Unlike you, I don’t have my daddy’s money to support me,” Erik snapped, Emma just raising an eyebrow, not fazed by Erik’s temper in the slightest; Emma was, perhaps, the only person who could deal with Erik’s moods.

Everyone knew that Erik Lehnsherr was an antagonistic, combative and downright scary person. On the first day of college, he had alienated the entire class by getting into it with a mutantphobic prick, pinning him to the wall by using all of the metal on his body. After that, no one tried to talk to him, ever. Only Emma, who was equally as intimidating (though for an entirely different reason), had been able to talk to him without shitting herself.

“Snappy. And it’s not just the fact that you’ve been eating cup ramen for two weeks and Shaw’s marking that’s pissing you off either, is it? Erik, you’re frustrated. If you’re so horny, come to the bar with the rest of us after class on Friday and just find someone and get laid,” Emma said casually, Erik flipping her off again. “Hey, I’m not judging, Sugar. Just concerned about a friend.”

“Well, you can go and shove your concern up your-”

Erik’s words cut off the moment he felt his phone buzz on the table in that particular tone. Erik knew that tone. He had set that singular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz rhythm for one thing, and one thing only, different to the vibration pattern of text messages (that he really only got from Emma and his mother) or college email notifications (about how his requests for remarks have been denied for the fiftieth time).

Erik didn’t say anything else to Emma as he hastily slammed his ratty laptop screen down, stuffing it into his bag alongside his notes and phone, before quickly leaving the library. Emma was just looking at him with amusement as he left, and Erik knew that she would have sensed his mood suddenly change from angry/frustrated/tired to excited/horny/joyful.

It was only just past midday on a regular Wednesday, but Erik was done with classes and had only planned to study with Emma in the library until she went out on a dinner date with Scott, and he went to work his shift at the late-night coffee shop.

But then he had felt that particular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz, and threw his plans straight out the window.

By the time he had unlocked the door to his apartment with his powers and hightailed it into his room, locking the door behind him with another flick of his wrist, Erik was already thrumming with anticipation, his cock stirring. This far into the game, just hearing the particular bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz rhythm gave Erik’s cock some sort of Pavlovian response, and Erik knew he was fucked.

Erik tugged his fraying earphones out from his bag that he had thrown haphazardly on the floor, arranging himself comfortably on his bed before jamming the buds into his ears and connecting them to his phone. Erik’s fingers tapped impatiently, opening the app hidden away in his guilty pleasures folder.

(1)New post from creator ProfessorXXX

The newly uploaded audio clip was titled “[M4M] I’ve had a hard day and need your big cock to fuck the stress out of me”. Erik almost groaned just reading the title, thinking ‘fuck, yes, okay, I need this too, I can do that for you’. He quickly skimmed the tags (which included BFE, massage and begging), his cock twitching in his jeans which were becoming a little tighter already.

Erik’s fingers tapped on a few things quickly, before jerking up the media volume and licking his lips.

There was a little crackling as the audio started, Erik slowly flattening his hands atop his thighs, closing his eyes. There was a sound of a door opening and closing, quiet and muffled, like it had been recorded from a distance. Erik’s breath hitched when heard the sound of clothes rustling, footsteps, and then another click of a door, but closer this time.

Before now, Erik never would have thought that hearing the sound of a door opening and closing could be considered foreplay, but the suspense was doing things to him, and he cursed silently, fighting back the urge to skip through the audio to get to the stuff that was beyond foreplay.

He didn’t have to wait long, though, when the reason he ditched Emma in the library without a second thought began to speak. The ridiculously hot voice curled with the lilt of a posh English accent, filtering through his ears and straight to his dick.

“Mm, darling, I’ve just had the worst day at work,” the voice groaned, taking on the role of a tired, overworked boyfriend. Erik would have been embarrassed at the fact that his heart was rabbiting in his chest over a boyfriend roleplay, because Gott, he was not that desperate for a boyfriend. No way. Nope. Erik definitely wasn’t desperate enough, even though he enabled push notifications on his phone to tell him the exact moment ProfessorXXX uploaded a new audio.

Definitely not desperate.

Erik pushed the errant thoughts from his head and focused on ProfessorXXX’s voice, slowly stroking his hands up and down his thighs. He wasn’t going near his twitching member just yet, though he could feel it begin to swell in his pants, uncomfortable.

“Mm, yes. You know my boss, his head is stuffed all the way up his arse. Oh, you know, the usual. He made me rewrite the entire presentation just a few hours before we had to present it so I missed my lunch break. Ugh, yes, a massage would be lovely, darling. Mmhmm, let me lie down on the bed first, and take off my jacket. It’s bloody hot in here, darling, let me take off my shirt too,” ProfessorXXX said, followed by the sound of more fabric rustling.

Erik could picture it in his mind; a soft and pliable body shrugging off a black suit jacket, dropping it onto the floor. He imagined phantom hands unbuttoning a crisp shirt, revealing perky pink nipples and soft skin. He could imagine watching the faceless man with the addictive voice and posh accent crawling onto his bed on all fours, moaning when Erik hovered above him, straddling the backs of his thighs and squeezing out the knots in the man’s strong muscles.

Erik licked his lips again, flicking his fingers and undoing his pants with practised finesse by tugging on the metal button and zipper. Erik moaned quietly as he lifted his hips slightly to pull down his jeans, leaving his briefs on which were sporting a little patch of dampness where his leaking head poked at the stretchy fabric.

“Mmm, darling. Your hands feel so good,” ProfessorXXX purred, and Erik swallowed, fisting his hands where they sat on his thighs, not touching his cock yet. He wouldn’t, not until ProfessorXXX mentioned it.

“Mm, yes, touch my lower back too. Nngh, God, yes. Feels so good.”

Erik imagined sliding his hands down the mystery back, one that he has never seen but imagined in great detail. As Erik’s imagined hands slid down and began to slip beneath the waistband of the imaginary man’s slacks, so did ProfessorXXX’s hopefully fake boyfriend, which coaxed a bubbling laugh from ProfessorXXX, one that was so endearing that Erik’s heart clenched.

Verdammt.

“No need to be so smug, darling. Of course I’m going to get hard if you’re touching me like that,” ProfessorXXX said, voice light but with a slight edge of arousal. Erik heard him breathe a little more heavily, and the sound of bed sheets rustling made Erik imagine the man turning onto his back, bulge evident in his work slacks.

“Mm, yeah, I was actually already getting hard on the train ride home,” ProfessorXXX panted, and Erik’s mouth went dry when he heard the sound of a zip being pulled down in his ears, and he wished that he would be there to pull it down with his powers, feel the slide of the zipper straining to contain the bulge of ProfessorXXX’s cock. He didn’t know what that cock looked like, but considering ProfessorXXX had a pretty voice, Erik knew that he would have a very, very pretty cock.

“You won’t let me touch it? Nngh, okay. Okay. You can tie my arms up with my tie, yes, I’ll do anything. Please, please just touch me.”

“Oh, Gott,” Erik breathed out through his flared nostrils, now beginning to palm his own cock through his briefs, moaning at the friction and the sharp inhaled breath ProfessorXXX took, as if Erik had just touched his cock.

Alongside the Englishman’s breathy moans and occasional long mewl, Erik could hear the overlying noise of some slick, wet stroking. For a moment, Erik wondered how ProfessorXXX made those noises; was he actually jerking himself off while he made this audio (which was hot as fuck), or did he use something else, like a mayonnaise-coated banana (slightly less hot). Erik didn’t ruminate much longer on that, though, not when ProfessorXXX began begging again.

“Darling, I need your big, hot cock inside me. Please, I’ve been thinking about it all day. When my boss was yelling at me, all I could think about was how I wanted to get home and let you bury your cock inside me and fuck me hard and fast,” ProfessorXXX whimpered, words punctuated by a squelching sound that, really, should not have been sexy. But when the Englishman suddenly said “God, your fingers feel so good inside me,” Erik didn’t mind the wet noises that really did begin to sound like a lubed-up asshole taking in Erik’s fingers greedily, sucking them in and begging for more.

Erik couldn’t wait any longer, tugging out his leaking member from inside his briefs, wrapping a big hand around his length and beginning to stroke. He matched his pumps with ProfessorXXX’s moans and cries as he verbally described how his (fake, please be fake) boyfriend’s cock felt as he thrust deep inside him.

Erik stripped his cock to the sound of a faceless, posh-sounding audio porn star whose potentially-real-but-hopefully-not boyfriend was burying his cock inside him. Erik only let himself orgasm when ProfessorXXX did. Erik knew when the voice would come, he had listened to so many of his audios before that he could identify the change in the man’s breathing, the way his words would begin to slur, and how he would begin to cry out ‘Oh, God, yes, God, yes’ as he came. 

Erik spilled himself over his hand with a choked cry, mind searing with white as he shook, the orgasm ripping through him.

When Erik came down from his high, some cum dribbling onto his T-shirt, he heard ProfessorXXX laugh softly with a low, throaty moan.

“Mm, thank you, darling. I really needed that.”

‘I really did too,’ Erik mused, the audio clip ending, leaving Erik in silence with his heart beating rapidly and cum pooling in his hand. He tried to ignore the way his heart ached a little when the clip ended, as if he’d just found out that his faceless and English boyfriend had to go home after a long session of hot, tender love-making.

But deep down, Erik knew that he was fucked.

***

Charles listened to his latest audio recording, making sure that everything was fine; the volume was even, his Foley-esque squelching noises popped in at the right times and the slapping sounds perfectly matched his sharp gasps.

Satisfied, Charles set the upload time for Wednesday 12:00pm like always, adding a short comment:

Hope you enjoyed this week’s audio, darlings, because I definitely enjoyed making it ;) Next week’s audio is something that many of you have been requesting – you’re all a little freaky, aren’t you?

Charles checked over everything one last time before submitting it, groaning as he stretched his arms and back, neck cracking after sitting at his computer editing the audio for so long. Just as he shut down his computer, Raven walked in wearing her favoured blonde hair and blue-eyed appearance, opting to wear a slouchy T-shirt and cotton shorts. In her hands was a plate with a disassembled sandwich on it.

“Finished making fingering noises with the mayo?” Raven teased her brother, who rolled his eyes and wheeled to the end of his desk to grab the bottle of mayo. He threw it to Raven who caught it deftly, squirting some onto her sandwich before assembling it and taking a bite, moaning loudly just to make her brother roll his eyes at her.

“Oh, stop it, Raven,” Charles huffed, not embarrassed about his side job, but tired of Raven taking the piss out of it every moment she could. He had been making (excellent quality) audio porn for almost a year-and-a-half, and if he was still embarrassed about it by now, then he clearly chose the wrong job.

“Did you just finish editing the punishment audio?” Raven asked while chewing, looking so casual she might as well have been talking about how cup noodles were on sale at the supermarket today.

“Yes, I have just set it up to be posted at 12,” Charles replied, wheeling out of his cramped bedroom, which was only just big enough to fit his bed, wardrobe and desk. It only just managed to allow his wheelchair to manoeuvre through.

“Sweet. You always get lots of hits on the ones where you’re getting thrown around,” Raven said, smirking around a mouthful of chicken, bread and mayo. “Your fans want to spank the shit out of you, Charles.”

“I don’t need my sister keeping tabs on how many hits my porn clips get, thank you very much,” Charles said, holding his hand out to stop Raven, who just snickered at his expense. “But yes, if this audio does well, then we might have enough money to get someone to come and fix the blasted heater.”

“Yes!” Raven cheered, fist pumping the air while still holding her sandwich. Charles laughed at that, wheeling past his sister and into the lounge room to make himself some lunch as well.

Charles hadn’t started making audio porn because he wanted to – it had been a moment of desperation when he and Raven needed cash. Things had never been easy after they were cut off from the Xavier fortune, and though they never regretted it, they did struggle at first. Raven’s part-time job as a waitress only paid so much, and Charles found it difficult to find jobs suitable for him because of his chair.

One day, Charles had stumbled on an online article about a new surge in the popularity of audio porn, and it had piqued his interest. Charles knew that people made a lot of cash by making standard porn, but he had never wanted to become known as ‘That Paraplegic Pornstar’ (of ‘The Paraplegic Penis’, as Raven unhelpfully quipped, once), or fulfil the unsettling disability kink some people had.

Audio porn, on the other hand, bypassed that. Charles could be whoever he wanted to be, acting out whatever scenarios he wanted without having to show his body. It was a bonus, really, that he had a natural English accent, which was very, very popular online.

Charles’s first audio had been a very basic, very vanilla JOI clip, which had done moderately well, enough to encourage Charles to keep going. His next one had incorporated some more roleplay, and his role as an office employee who got caught masturbating in his office (and subsequently getting bent over a desk and thoroughly fucked) had immediately made his new career take off.

Even though he had fallen into it somewhat accidentally, Charles did not mind it. It was creatively liberating, brought in more cash than he and Raven were making through conventional means, and was sometimes extremely convenient. Even as a paraplegic, Charles had needs. Charles, unfortunately, hadn’t been in a relationship for a long, long time, so he had to make do with pleasuring himself whenever he was feeling frisky. This was hard to achieve, considering the sensation in his cock was iffy even on a good day, but he had worked out with practise how to bring himself over the edge. It was easy money to just record himself getting off, considering he was going to do it anyway.

That didn’t mean Charles that was 100% satisfied. Sure, his toys were fun, but he missed being with someone. It was a shame that he hadn’t met anyone who was truly fine with him being a paraplegic that couldn’t have a reliable erection, even if they pretended they were okay with it.

Downside of being a telepath.

“You’re pulling your lonely face again, Charles,” Raven suddenly said, snapping her brother out of his momentary daze. Charles was suddenly very aware of his face, frowning at Raven.

“I’m not making a ‘lonely face’,” Charles said, Raven snorting.

“Don’t lie to me, Charles.”

‘You’re obviously wishing that you’re actually getting some real dick instead of pretending to get it by slapping two pieces of steak together,’ Raven added mentally when Charles ignored her, pulling out some bread to make himself a sandwich. Raven didn’t want to drop the conversation though, and sidled up beside Charles, leaning on the edge of the low kitchen counter.

“Chaaaarles,” Raven dragged out, her brother ignoring her as he squelched mayo onto the bread. “Charles, what if I set you up with someone?”

Charles glanced at his sister at that, eyes narrowed.

“No,” Charles responded flatly. “The last time you tried to set me up with someone, he ended up ditching me half way through dinner by pretending to pick up a phone call. I knew he was going to, of course, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

“Okay, that was my bad. But I can properly vouch for the guy this time. He’s Emma’s friend, and Charles, he’s the definition of your type.”

“I don’t have a ‘type’,” Charles said, tearing up some chicken and throwing it onto his mayo covered bread.

‘Where’s that photo of Erik I have, no, no, no, hot, but no, no – ah! There he is,’ Charles caught Raven thinking, and soon her phone was thrust in front of his face, revealing the most ridiculously handsome man Charles had ever seen.

Brown-ish hair, light ginger scruff, angular face, pale blue-grey eyes, lean body, broad shoulders and narrow waist, long legs and – Christ – Charles could see the outline of his cock against his thigh and the man was packing.

Charles’s mouth was hanging open, and he was sure he would have started drooling if Raven hadn’t started cackling.

“He’s totally your type,” Raven said smugly, Charles unable to deny her because that man was definitely Charles’s type, at least physically. Good God. “And, to sweeten the deal, he’s a metallokinetic, can dirty talk to you in German and is passionate – maybe overly so – about mutant rights. Uh, he’s a separatist, but you did say that some of the best sex you’ve had is with people you wanted to punch, so I’d say that’s a positive. Oh, and he’s single.”

That was a very sweet deal indeed.

But Charles was hesitant – a man like that, he could have any one he wanted. Why would he want someone like Charles?

***

Erik never came harder than he did when he jerked off to ProfessorXXX’s voice, and he didn’t want to think about what that meant. Erik had never been that guy who had a thing for porn with storylines, usually skipping the terribly cheesy opening scenes and going straight to the parts where someone was getting their cock sucked down by red lips, getting himself off quickly and efficiently.

For Erik, jerking off was just a thing he did when he was feeling horny. It was honestly so impersonal that was almost clinical. It had been a long time since he had time to go out and actually find someone to help him relieve his sexual frustration, but he was deep into an assessment heavy part of the year and had no time to go out, so for the past few weeks it’s just been him and his hand.

He had come across ProfessorXXX’s audios by accident; he had been trying to click on another video of some pretty basic porn, but his laptop had slid off his lap slightly and he had clicked on something else instead, leading him to ProfessorXXX’s PornHub page.

Erik had never been interested in audio porn, even though it had come up every now and then when he was ten pages deep in the #mutant porn tag. Erik would have just clicked back straight away, but his eye caught a few comments on ProfessorXXX’s page gushing about how his voice gave them the most soul-shattering orgasm they had ever had in their life. Erik had just snorted, wondering what desperate soul could get off with just the sound of someone’s voice, and curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He had clicked one of the latest audios that had been posted, skipping a pretty basic-sounding title for one labelled “[M4A] I get horny making pancakes and jerk myself off in the kitchen”, not expecting to be turned on in the slightest, but at least hoping that it would be a mildly entertaining clip.

But the moment Erik heard ProfessorXXX’s voice, with his stupid accent and slight rasp when he became aroused, Erik was gone. He had jerked off at 3am after finishing his mutant studies essay to the sound of a man talking about how his cock was sticky with syrup and how filling his hole with his fingers was worth burning his pancakes for.

Erik had been mortified at himself in the privacy of his room, throwing his phone across the room but growing a mind and catching it with his powers before it smashed against the wall.

Erik hadn’t jerked off for a week after that, almost embarrassed that something like that had given him what was, arguably, the best masturbatory orgasm of his life. But, he was a young and healthy man, and it was late on a Friday night that Erik had accepted the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about ProfessorXXX’s voice during the entirety of his week of abstinence.

Erik just figured that he would jerk off to a few more of ProfessorXXX’s audios, get it out of his system and move back to safer, greener pastures.

He did not.

Erik knew he had a problem when he had downloaded a whole app dedicated to audio porn, ignoring all other creators and simply worked his way down every single one of ProfessorXXX’s audios. Erik had his rock bottom the moment he attempted to scroll down further after coming for the second time to the sound nothing more than ProfessorXXX jerking himself off – no roleplaying, no context, just a file aptly titled “Edging myself for forty minutes straight and cumming so hard I pass out”.

 After exhausting every single one of ProfessorXXX’s audio clips, Erik ended up paying to access VIP audios on the man’s Patreon page (ones that the creator had clearly spent more time on, since the quality of the paid audios were even better than the free ones). When he exhausted even those, Erik had to settle on revisiting his favourites to get himself off while waiting for new uploads. ProfessorXXX was, at least, a man that adhered to a schedule, something Erik liked.

Every Wednesday, at 12:00pm GMT-4 sharp, ProfessorXXX uploaded a new audio. And, every Wednesday at 12:00pm GMT-4, Erik’s cock would know that it was time to start getting interested.

Erik decided that he needed to compartmentalise things. ProfessorXXX’s roleplaying scenarios maybe confused Erik’s mind a bit, the Englishman’s acting somehow too believable. That was one of the things that set ProfessorXXX apart from regular porn – porn plots were always terrible, but ProfessorXXX really sold whatever he was trying to pass off as. Actual professor in a student/teacher scenario? Yes. An employee performing sexual favours for his hot boss? Perfection. Needy brat in need of a spanking? Fuck yes.

ProfessorXXX was so versatile in his repertoire that Erik was beginning to get confused. He needed to just push ProfessorXXX and all of his personas into a box labelled WANK MATERIAL, and keep it far away from the other, dismally empty box labelled FEELINGS.

Erik did not need to start feeling things for a man who makes (really good quality) audio porn.

One thing that helped was that when Erik’s heart began to itch, he would just think to himself ‘ProfessorXXX is probably a middle-aged lecher with a beer gut and receding hairline who makes these audios wearing a ratty wife beater and adult diaper’. That would work for a bit, but then Erik would hear his voice, and someone that sounded that posh, that gentle (unless he was begging to be choked) and that lovely (because his flirtatious laugh was beyond lovely), Erik couldn’t picture him as someone that visually abhorrent.

Erik had no idea what ProfessorXXX looked like, but for some reason he thinks that if he ever met him, he’d think he was gorgeous no matter what he looked like.

‘Gott, Erik, stop,’ Erik growled to himself, pushing away the traitorous thoughts by focusing on feeling the metal around him, tugging on the barista’s coffee machine, the tacky hipster light fixtures, the legs of the glossy chairs.

It was just past 11:30 on the Wednesday after Erik had wanked to ProfessorXXX getting pounded by his boyfriend after a bad day at work. Instead of being at the library, Erik had been dragged to a café around the corner from campus by Emma and her friend, Raven.

Erik didn’t know Raven well since she wasn’t undertaking the same degree as him, but Emma had apparently known her and her brother for ages, their old-money families running in the same circles. Erik had really only spoken to Raven a handful of times, but from what he’d seen, he didn’t mind the girl; she was straightforward and borderline brash, but she wore her blue skin, yellow eyes and shock red hair with such confidence that even Erik was impressed. Erik had always been biased towards mutants with visible mutations.

Erik hadn’t felt particularly hungry, and just ordered a coffee and guarded their table from being snagged by a haughty-looking woman, spreading his long limbs across the plush wall seating. The woman glared at him, and he smiled with all his teeth, sending her scuttling off to try and find a table at the back of the café.

Erik’s coffee came as Emma and Raven sauntered back to their squeezy table in the corner, and he sipped on it while they waited for their food, continuing to chat about whatever they had been talking about at the counter.

“I wasn’t aware that it pays so well,” Emma said to Raven, leaning forward, genuinely interested in whatever they were talking about. Erik was only half listening, his finger tapping on the rim of his coffee cup, letting his powers linger on the hands of a wall clock above the café counter.

11:43am.

“Yeah, it’s because he’s surprisingly really popular on the forum. Which is great, because it means he gets paid more, but I mean… it’s gross,” Raven said, shivering, Emma letting out an amused laugh.

“Only because he’s your brother,” Emma said as a waiter came by with their food, eyeing Raven in her natural blue form warily. Erik sent him a cold look, tripping him up by the metal eyelets on his boots.

“Come on, Emma. If your brother was popular like that, you’d be grossed out too,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, he’s thinking about branching out. He’s not gonna stop that part of his job because it pays well, but he’s thinking of creating other things. You know, like podcasts.”

“Is he going to stop once he starts his TA job? This is only a temporary thing, right?”

“I don’t know. I asked him, and he said that he’ll definitely cut back since he’ll have less time, but I honestly think he kind of likes it. Which, I mean, good for him, because you know… but as his sister, it’s still gross,” Raven said, before they started taking hefty bites into the food while Erik sipped on his coffee.

11:50am.

Erik’s leg began to bob up and down, Raven turning to him mid-way through taking a large bite from her large pulled pork sub.

“What’s got you so antsy?” Raven asked, Erik huffing and rolling his eyes. Emma smirked, eyeing Erik with amusement.

“He’s probably waiting for his regular midday text from his boyfriend,” Emma said, Erik whirling to look at her, face a comical picture of genuine shock. Emma and Raven both burst out laughing at his reaction, the man schooling his expression back to its usual one of blatant disgust, cursing at both Raven and Emma and making sure that his mental shields were solid. Emma picked up on his immediate padding of his shields, only smiling wider.

“Boyfriend? Erik? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious,” Raven snickered, Erik glaring at her while Emma just grinned.

“Oh, but is it? Erik has been acting awfully suspicious lately,” Emma said easily, waving her hand around as if she were talking about the weather.

“Shut it, Emma,” Erik growled, Emma ignoring him and turning to Raven conspiratorially.

“He always turns down invitations to go out, and I’ve caught him looking at his phone with a gooey expression on his face. And sometimes, he’ll be looking at his phone and get all aroused,” Emma said, and Erik contemplated ripping the white pearl and silver barrette out of her blonde hair and slapping her in the face with it. Emma seemed to catch that thought since it was directed at her, and she just laughed lightly. “Oh, Sugar. You think you’ve been so discreet. Look at you, blocking me out. Trying to hide the identity of your mystery boy?”

11:57am.

“Verpiss dich, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Erik churned out, cheeks heating a little despite himself. He definitely did not have a boyfriend. Nope, not at all. Instead, he had a complicated relationship with the voice of a man who could wring out an orgasm from him like no other person ever before. Verdammt.

“Wait, you actually have a boyfriend?” Raven asked, ignoring everything Erik said and scrunching her nose up. “Damn, I was going to try and set you up with my brother. You’re exactly his type.”

“Charles likes the moody, unapproachable type?” Emma asked, Raven snorting.

“He likes the tall, European, huge dick and ‘groovy mutation’ type,” Raven replied, Emma snickering as Erik glared at the both of them.

“Thanks for the concern, Raven, but I don’t want you to set me up with your brother,” Erik said, pretending that the voice in his head did not just say that was because he was interested in someone else. Someone with an English accent and a filthy mouth that was sometimes ridiculously sweet.

“Because you have a boyfriend,” Emma replied, Erik wanting to rip his own hair out at the circular conversation that was going nowhere.

“I already told you that I don’t ha-”

12:00pm.

Bzz-bzz…bzz-bzz-bzz.

Erik’s cock twitched right on cue.

Emma laughed, Raven raised a brow, and Erik just flipped them both off and drained the rest of his coffee, briskly walking home to lock himself in his room and jerk off to ProfessorXXX’s new audio.

***

Even though Charles’s audios were very successful and he had cultivated quite a dedicated fanbase, that didn’t mean he wasn’t free from the occasional negative comment. Most of them were ridiculous and speculative, saying that Charles was probably a balding, overweight 50-year-old man with a pedo stache and BO that would be a natural mosquito repellent. Charles found these kind of hate comments hilarious, and often replied to them jokingly, saying that was why he was making audio porn and not visual porn.

His fans said that only someone who wasn’t completely butt ugly would be able to joke about that.

Charles wasn’t ugly – in fact, he would consider himself quite handsome, even if he had developed a bit of a paunch because of his paraplegia, and his legs were atrophied and frail. Even with that, Charles’s upper body had become broad and leanly muscled, though he usually covered himself up with the frumpy sweaters that he loved, but Raven hated.

Charles was reading through the comments on one of his latest audios, which he made for people with visible mutations. It involved a lot of body worship (though he had to make it vague because visible mutations came in all shapes, colours and forms) and mutant positivity, and Charles had actually thought that it was one of his better audios, but apparently it brought a lot of mutantphobic bigots out of the woodwork.

cumbot2000 : ProfXXX is a mutant fucker? go to hell

diiickya188 : i came here to cum, not get turned off by this fucking mutie shit

mayhem2928 : well my dick is soft now

dl8191398 : profxxx is probs a fkn mutie himself fking disgusting

Charles sighed, quickly working his way to report the comments, but stopping when he saw that lots of the earlier mutantphobic comments on the audio had replies to them. One of them even looked like it had turned into a full-blown argument lasting 20+ responses, all of them from the same person – magneto22.

jayybee : profxxx is a mutie fucker im never listening to his shit again

magneto22 : Good riddance. This was a very well thought-out and executed audio that respected mutants with visible mutations while still being sexy and fun. You evidently can’t understand the quality of ProfessorXXX’s craft, and are a mutantphobic piece of shit, so go right ahead and fuck off and leave ProfessorXXX alone.

Charles read through a few more of magneto22’s replies, some ranging from polite and measured, and others devolving into utter swear-fests. All of them, though, defended Charles with a surprising amount of passion.

It probably wasn’t a great idea for Charles to feel so touched by someone who pays money to listen to Charles orgasm (because magneto22 did pay for Charles’s exclusive Patreon audios, he checked), but he was. There was something about the honesty in magneto22’s words, and even if Charles couldn’t hear his voice or see his face, everything the man (he assumed he was a man, considering Charles’s audios were aimed at men) said seemed genuine.

Charles ended up sending a private message to magneto22 through the audio porn app, even though that was probably a very, very stupid thing to do. This was a man paying for Charles’s porn, and Charles was what, sliding into his DMs?

‘God, I need to get laid, properly. Now I’m even catching feeling for people paying for my porn, good Lord.’

Still, Charles had sent magneto22 a message, keeping it light and somewhat formal.

ProfessorXXX : Hello. I know this might seem very strange, but I saw your very supportive and very kind comments on one of my audios ([M4M] You’re beautiful, darling [mutantandproud] [bodyworship] [visiblemutations]), and I just wanted to say thank you for your help with addressing the mutantphobic bigots. It really means a lot to me, as a mutant myself. Your words were also very flattering, and I am glad that you found the audio to be respectful – I tried to take great care in ensuring that I wasn’t playing into a mutant fetish like some people tend to do. Thank you, once again, my friend. Yours, ProfessorXXX

Charles pushed his mind off magneto22 after sending the message, focusing on editing a new audio. He was in the middle of syncing the squelching mayo noises when his email pinged, signifying that his message to magneto22 had been replied to. Charles’s stomach flipped and his heart thumped, suddenly far too giddy to be healthy.

Charles quickly clicked onto the new message, not even caring that he may seem desperate.

magneto22 : Hello ProfessorXXX. Receiving a message from you was surprising, but not strange at all. In fact, I am very glad to hear that my comments were well-received. I am very pleased to find out that you are also a mutant (I am as well). It is very refreshing to find such tastefully made adult content for mutants, especially those with visible mutations. I enjoyed your other audios, but this one made me a great fan of your work. I hope that you create more audios targeted towards those with visible mutations, but I will look forward to all of your future work nonetheless. Regards, magneto22

Charles was smiling widely at the message, endeared by the slightly awkward and stiff tone throughout it. Even though it was awkward, magneto22 sounded genuine, like he was speaking from the heart. Charles was glad that magneto22, who was a mutant (likely with a visible mutation considering he seemed very hung up on support for such mutants in particular), had enjoyed the audio.

Charles replied again swiftly, saying that he would definitely be making more mutant-centric works, adding that he would dedicate the next one to magneto22. Charles had already sent the message when he realised he had just dedicated his porn to a random man on the internet.

Charles groaned and chastised himself, closing down the app and putting his phone on do not disturb, focusing on editing the audio so he could move on to some of his college assignments.

But Charles itched to see if magneto22 had responded, and the distraction made him take much longer than usual to edit his audio clip.

***

If Emma and Raven had thought that Erik had a boyfriend because he had been hung up on notifications that ProfessorXXX had released a new audio, the fact that he was now messaging the man was icing on the cake.

When Erik had received the private message from ProfessorXXX, he had nearly dropped his phone mid-wank; the man was moaning in his ear and whispering about how he wanted to choke on Erik’s cock, but the message he had sent to Erik was well-written and friendly, and the juxtaposition of the two made Erik’s head implode.

It had taken him a while to reply, having to quickly get himself off before he could think straight. Erik had responded awkwardly, and had berated himself for sounding like a fucking tool, but ProfessorXXX had replied swiftly, sounding as jovial as he had in the first message. Erik naturally replied again, and he was waiting for ProfessorXXX to just… stop replying. But he hadn’t.

Their conversation, which had started off formal, had progressed into a mixture of heated debates about mutant rights (and Gott, now that Erik knew ProfessorXXX was a mutant made him orgasm twice as hard) and about more mundane things, like terrible college professors and trying to make a living while juggling three assignments and exam preparation.

Erik had originally thought that ProfessorXXX lived in England because of his thick accent, but when Erik had slyly asked him where the accent was from, the other man had said that the accent was from Oxford, but he was actually born and raised in New York. Erik’s brain had short-circuited again with the knowledge that ProfessorXXX lived in the same city as him.

Erik began to imagine scenarios where he would spontaneously ‘bump’ into ProfessorXXX. On the train, at a café, or just on the street. Erik thought that he would be able to recognise ProfessorXXX’s voice anywhere.

Somewhere along the way, Erik had stopped thinking of ProfessorXXX as ‘that guy I sometimes masturbate to’ to ‘the guy that is an infuriating pacifist but actually argues his case really well and is also a broke-as-fuck college student like me and Gott he’s funny and nice and-’

Erik could go on forever about ProfessorXXX, and that was the problem. Even though his compartmentalisation had been pretty shoddy to begin with, now it was just non-existent. Erik, to his mortification, liked ProfessorXXX. Really liked him. He didn’t just like how his voice could draw out the most delicious orgasms from Erik’s dick, but he liked him as a person.

Erik couldn’t even pretend that ProfessorXXX was just jerk-off material any more. No, he was too far gone for the person behind the sexy voice and dirty fantasies to pretend he wasn’t something more.

Erik and ProfessorXXX had been messaging for almost three weeks now, and Erik wanted to meet the man terribly. But he doubted ProfessorXXX would want that; in the end, Erik was his fan, and the fact that ProfessorXXX never said anything personal about himself, not even about his appearance, in his description or audios, Erik figured that he wanted to remain anonymous.

It came as a shock to Erik one day during his exams to receive a message from ProfessorXXX asking if Erik would like to meet. In person.

“Oh, fuck!” Erik yelled, the metal in his room rattling as he nearly dropped his phone on his face from where he was lying in bed. Erik was still freaking out when his roommate banged on his door, yelling at him to fix the bloody shower head, his powers running so amok that he had been twisting the metal in the bathroom into misshapen lumps. Erik apologised quickly and straightened all of the pipes out, before turning back to the message.

magneto22 : Yes, I would love to meet in person. Were you thinking sometime after exams? I finish on Wednesday this week.

ProfessorXXX : Oh, excellent! I finish this week as well – Thursday, to be exact. We could maybe grab coffee some time? Is there a time and day that would work best for you? I’m flexible.

“I’m sure you are flexible,” Erik mumbled to himself, cursing at the way his cock twitched at the unintentionally suggestive words.

magneto22 : Friday around midday?

ProfessorXXX : Oh, I’m sorry, my friend. Unfortunately I have a prior engagement at that time. I am free all of Saturday, though.

If he’s free all of Saturday, that means he’s free at night and maybe- Erik, Gott, stop.

magneto22 : Saturday works for me as well. Should we say 11am? We can choose a coffee shop somewhere between the both of us.

ProfessorXXX : Excellent! I live near Columbia. I recall you mentioning that you go to NYU? I know of a fantastic coffee shop right between them. I can send you the details.

magneto22 : Looking forward to it.

ProfessorXXX : As am I, my friend.

Erik stared at his phone with giddy anticipation, his grin almost splitting his face in two.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

***

It was 11am on Friday, the day after Charles had his last exam. The telepath watched Raven try on outfits for Emma’s birthday brunch in the mirror, waiting a little impatiently since he had been ready for 45 minutes already, while Raven had only just decided how she wanted to style her natural red hair. Emma’s brunch started in 30 minutes, and on the subway it took at least 20 minutes to get to the ritzy brunch house, and Charles hated being late. He also wasn’t looking forward to having to squeeze onto the subway to get to the restaurant, but what could he do. He and Raven couldn’t afford a cab, let alone a car.

“You’re telling me you’re not interested in Erik anymore? Mr ‘Exactly My Type’?” Raven asked incredulously as her blue skin rippled into a tight red dress that matched her hair. Clicking her tongue as she spun in the mirror, she changed it to a sleek white jumpsuit, nodding thoughtfully.

“I am sure that he’s lovely, but no, I am no longer interested,” Charles said, fighting the smile on his face as he remembered magneto22’s messages to him. Charles had thought that asking the man on a date – because this was a date, right? – would have ended in immediate failure, but he had seemed excited. Almost as excited as Charles, but Charles was beyond the realm of excited and was bordering on manic.

“Oh my God, did you meet someone?!” Raven exclaimed, eyeing her brother’s expression with shock. Charles just shrugged, Raven squealing. “You so did! When the hell did this happen? How did this happen? You’ve been so busy with your TA job and the audios, not to mention exams. Just when? What? How? Spill, now.”

“Okay, don’t… freak out,” Charles said, trying to figure out how to explain things. Even though Charles felt like he knew magneto22, they hadn’t revealed their true names to each other, or their faces. Charles thought there was this tiny barrier hanging over their heads, a barrier that stemmed from the fact that they only began talking to each other because Charles made porn, and magneto22 was a fan of said porn. Things started off in an odd place, and even though Charles liked magneto22 – really liked him – it was still this thing hanging over his head like a storm cloud.

Charles hoped that meeting magneto22 in person would get rid of that last little barrier between them.

“Don’t freak out? I’m already freaking out,” Raven said, turning away from her figure in the mirror after changing into a floral sundress. “Spill, Charles.”

Charles quickly told her what had happened, and by the end of it, Raven was staring at her brother with a blank expression.

“You’re meeting up with a guy who’s a fan of your porn?” Raven paraphrased, blinking rapidly like she was still trying to process everything.

“That’s the short of it, yes.”

“Charles, I get that you’re desperate, but… That’s desperate,” Raven said, Charles giving her a look. “Oh, come on! You’re meeting up with a guy who pays you to help get him off! What if he’s a creep?!”

“People who watch porn aren’t all creeps, Raven. I watch porn, you watch porn – heck, even Hank watches porn,” Charles said, throwing up his hands. “And it’s not like I haven’t spoken to him. We’ve messaged. A lot.” Charles grew a little quiet then, nervously knotting his hands together.

“I… I really like him, Raven,” Charles whispered, peeking up at his sister, whose expression softened.

“Oh, Charles,” Raven sighed, walking over to him and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Fine, I’ll accept this for now, and only because I know you can use your mind voodoo to make him start dancing the macarena if he turns out to be a creep.”

“Oh, I can make him do more than just  that,” Charles said, smirking a little, Raven laughing.

“Damn it, now I’m more worried about the other guy, Charles!”

***

Erik glared at Emma from where he stood on the sidelines after being forced to attend her birthday brunch. Erik hadn’t wanted to come at all, which is why he had asked to meet ProfessorXXX on the day of the event. He hadn’t asked to meet up on Friday just because he wanted an excuse to miss Emma’s obnoxious brunch though – he asked because he also because he didn’t know if he could wait any longer, knowing that he was going to meet ProfessorXXX.

Erik was already head over heels for the man, even though he didn’t know anything about him other than the things the porn creator told him through their messages, and the sound of his voice. He also knew how ProfessorXXX sounded when he had a real orgasm, one that wasn’t put on for the sake of an audio (ProfessorXXX had told him, a little shyly, which audios were authentic and now Erik believed he could tell the difference between the man’s real and fake orgasms).

Erik refused to let his good mood from securing a date with ProfessorXXX be dampened by Emma and her stupid brunch, but it was becoming hard to not rip up the metal pipes to flood out the whole restaurant and force the party to end.

Erik never liked events with lots of people, and this was one such event. Emma had a wide social circle. The Summers brothers were chatting with Armando and Sean while waiting for drinks from the open bar Emma hired, and Angel was busy helping the birthday girl arrange a balloon arch set up at the photo area. Emma had even invited Hank McCoy, whom she had only met once through Raven and her brother, but had decided to invite him anyway.

Speaking of Raven, she was still not here yet. The party was scheduled to start at 11:30, and it was already 11:40. Erik had never met Raven’s brother before, but Raven and Emma had mentioned him in front of Erik enough times to know enough about the man. Charles was apparently ridiculously intelligent, and though he was born into privilege he had a solid work ethic and never complained about having to work two jobs to support him and Raven. Raven said that he was a TA, but never mentioned what his second job was. Erik wasn’t the type to be curious anyway, so he never found out.

Erik also knew that Raven’s brother was involved in a horrific car accident when he was nineteen, leaving him wheelchair-bound. Erik wondered if that was why they were late – public transport could be hell for most people, but even more so than people who used wheelchairs. Erik sometimes used his powers to shove people out of the way when they were being assholes and inconsiderate to people trying desperately to get through on their wheelchairs, even giving the chairs themselves a helpful nudge if they got snagged.

Just as Erik was thinking about the siblings, the door to the restaurant opened, revealing Raven in a tight white dress. She had decided to make her red hair long and wavy, but retained her yellow eyes and blue scale-like skin. She looked fantastic, and Erik always preferred her when she was wearing her natural appearance.

‘ProfessorXXX’s visible mutation audios would make more people feel comfortable in their own skin like Raven,’ Erik thought to himself, heart-warming at the thought of the man.

Erik admired Raven’s appearance for one second longer, before turning his gaze to her brother.

And, mein Gott, when Raven and Emma talked about him, they seemed to forget to mention that he was fucking beautiful. Fluffy brown hair that was a little too long to be fashionable but worked for him, eyes that were so blue they looked supernatural and lips that were so red that he perpetually looked like someone who had been snogged within an inch of his life just seconds prior. His shoulders were strong, biceps flexing as he wheeled himself into the room, visible through the crisp white shirt he was wearing.

Raven’s brother – Charles – wheeled towards Emma with a wide smile on his face, corner of his eyes crinkling.

Then, Erik remembered that he was a telepath – and a powerful one, too – and quickly clamped down on his errant thoughts. He also remembered that he was going on a date with ProfessorXXX tomorrow. Even though Charles was extremely attractive – anyone with eyes could see that – he didn’t make Erik’s heart go mushy like ProfessorXXX did when he talked about wanting to create an audio specifically for mutants with tails.

ProfessorXXX could look nothing like Charles, and Erik would still be ridiculously attracted to him.

Emma’s eyes turned from Charles to meet Erik’s, and she smiled a little, flashing her white teeth.

‘Don’t be such a party-pooper, Erik. Come and mingle,’ Emma sent him telepathically, Erik projecting an emphatic ‘No, thank you,’ back at her.

‘Oh, please, Sugar. I could hear you undressing Charles with your eyes before. It’s lucky that he has a stronger moral code than me and actively blocks out your thoughts, otherwise he’d know exactly how his biceps make you feel,’ Emma continued, Erik gritting his teeth.

‘I am not interested, Emma,’ Erik shot back, the woman laughing inside his head.

‘Yes, because of your secret boyfriend. Very well, Sugar. I’ll let you off the hook – but only if you come and talk to people, they’re thinking that you’re dampening the mood by being all doom and gloom over there.’

Erik glared at Emma, but trudged over to the group of people, heading directly over to Raven. She was the person he could stand the most out of the lot of them, even if her ridiculously attractive brother was hanging around by her side.

Raven spotted him as he stalked over, waving him over with an excited “Erik! Come and meet my brother”. Erik sighed, figuring that it was about time he met the brother his friend always gushed about.

“Charles, this is Erik. Erik, Charles,” Raven said as the men shook hands, Charles doing so with a wide and friendly smile, Erik just grunting.

Just before they moved to drop their clasped hands, Charles spoke.

“Hello, Erik. It’s lovely to meet you. Raven’s told me a lot about you.”

What.

“Oh my fucking God,” Erik choked out, body freezing as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Raven stared at Erik like he had grown two heads while Charles’s brow furrowed in concern at Erik’s strange reaction. But how else could Erik react, when he had instantly recognised Charles’s voice, clear as day.

It was a voice that has been whispering obscenities into Erik’s ears for months, the voice belonging to the man Erik has been crushing on for just less that.

‘CHARLES IS PROFESSORXXX HOLY SHIT,’ Erik’s mind screamed, and Charles’s eyes widened then, no doubt hearing the screaming words despite his shields, especially since their hands were still clasped tightly together.

Erik felt an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation tickle at the edge of his mind, a spreading warmth that almost felt like a gentle knock on the door. It was Charles, it had to be – he was the only other telepath here apart from Emma, and Erik knew what Emma’s telepathy felt like. He also knew that she would never ‘knock’ and just barge on in without hesitation.

‘Erik, you wouldn’t happen to be magneto22, would you?’ Erik heard in his mind, ProfessorXXX’s voice – Charles’s voice – a little hesitant and nervous. Erik did not have to respond, Charles feeling the flood of embarrassment/attraction/affection pouring from Erik. Charles’s face then flashed with shock, happiness and something much more.

“So this is what you meant when you said you had a prior engagement,” Erik suddenly blurted out, Raven looking even more confused while Charles just laughed, the sound so beautiful and familiar that Erik fell for him even further, right then and there.

“And you said you were free,” Charles replied teasingly, red lips curving upwards. ‘Would you happen to still be free, ah, after brunch?’ Charles asked in Erik’s mind, the metallokinetic nodding furiously.

‘I’m free all day. I could even free myself up right now, if that works for you?’ Erik pushed into the telepath’s head, the man’s blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That definitely works for me, my friend.”

[the-accidentals]

Chapter 1

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldests room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perefect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned lorna one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm laura burmwell” laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Dont worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining laura’s dirty blonde mess any day.

“ I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly underdressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“ nervous?” Preet questioned.

“i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, im sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preets name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, im sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons conduction, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos

This is the first part of a longer story and my first time doing any serious writing, any advice welcome! I know it isn't perfect but I tried so I hope you enjoy it xx

[wuzzybear]

The Accidentals- A bad fucking week. part 1

A group of broke adults join a medical trial hoping for some easy cash but instead get a lot more than what they wanted. There is something bad at play and they need to work it out if they ever want to be normal, not that they were normal before.

 Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month.  Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father.  She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldest’s room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly. 

 Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call.  For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down Reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up Honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perfect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised Steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned Laura one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm.. Laura Burmwell” Laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat. 

“Don’t worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, Laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining Laura's dirty blonde mess any day.

 “I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly under dressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m Laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled. 

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“Nervous?” Preet questioned.

 “i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, I’m sure you wont grow any more heads.”  At that moment Preet’s name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it. 

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse. 

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face. 

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, I’m sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect  I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons condition, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos.

This is my first attempt writing, please tell me how to improve! this is the first part of a longer story.

[ikonct95]

A Mysterious Man

Living in South Korea was like a dream come true...is what you tell yourself every night before you go to bed. Let’s be real, every country as its issue, that’s understandable but living in another country while trying to make ends meet is tough.

See, during your freshmen year in college, your university had a project for students to compete in and win a scholarship to study at one of the many sister universities. It so happens that your university had a sister in South Korea.

At first, you applied jokingly, knowing that for sure you wouldn’t win the content and be able to study there. But you were proven wrong. You won. You got the scholarship. And you went to South Korea. Problem? The problem is that the scholarship only paid for the classes and books you needed. You had to pay for housing and other living expenses.

Your parents are helpful enough but you wouldn’t dare ask for a lot. So they agreed to pay half while you earned the other half and pay for whatever you needed. That’s how we find you working at a cafe in downtown Seoul.

Honestly, working in a cafe wasn’t that bad the pay is good. Enough to combine with your parents money and then some. Working at the cafe, you get to meet all sorts of people. Especially when you work the night shift (this semester you had classes during the after noon).

One particular customer was a man who appeared to be in his mid/late twenties. He always came to the cafe around 11pm or midnight and would leave at around 2-3. The man always wore black clothing, from head to toe. And wore a black mask and a black baseball hat.

Of course, seeing him sitting in his little corner by the window and tapping away at his phone or reading what appeared to be a script, creeped you out sometimes. Especially on nights where it was only you working.

But after waitressing for the man for the past two months, you knew he was harmless. Maybe it was because of the roundness of his eyes that reminded you of your favorite childhood teddy bear that your mother gave you on your 3rd birthday? Or, realistically, maybe it was because you only ever saw him at this cafe and not somewhere else so he wasn’t really stalking you? Who knows.

“The usual?” You asked the man in black when he stepped up to the counter at exactly 12:25 am. Soft rain falling outside of the cafe.

Shaking his head softly, he said “No.” his voiced muffled by the mask. “I’ll have the Tiramisu cake and hot chocolate.”

You raised your eyebrow questioningly at him but said nothing as you prepared his order while he walked to his favorite place. The corner table by the windy.

Something about him seemed odd tonight. Instead of tapping away at his phone or reading his script, he just inserted his earphones in and rested his head against the window and watched as the people walked by the cafe under the rain.

His slouching form made you take pity on him. Instead of putting three marshmallows in his hot chocolate like your manager always instructed you to do when preparing the hot chocolatey beverage, you added five marshmallows into his drink.

“Here you go.” You said in your normal voice hoping that he could hear you as you placed his dessert and warm drink before walking away.

It took you about 30 minutes to clean the cafe and seeing that there were no other customers beside the mysterious man, you decided to check the storage room on items that needed restocking. And once that was done, you sat on your chair behind the counter and took out your ECON 2029 book to review this week’s lessons.

“Can I have more?”

You were so absorbed in your book that you didn’t hear the man get up from his chair and walk towards the counter.

“Uhh...yeah, yeah sure.” You said while closing the book and taking his now empty cup to put in the sink and take a new one out to make another hot chocolate for him.

“Can’t sleep?” You asked as you waited on the milk to get warm.

The man behind you shrugged, “Yeah.” His voice was quiet, “Even though I’m dead tired.”

You nodded your head and took the cup with the warm milk and placed on the counter in front of the man before taking chocolate powder and putting two spoons of it in his drink and stringing.

“Got a lot on your mind?” You added three marshmallows this time.

“Something like that.” The man seemed to be in a daze, eyes never leaving the warm cup as he watched the marshmallow drown in the brown liquid.

And then, as if a light switched was switched on, he snapped out of his daze and reach for his wallet.

“No,” you said and held your hand up, surprising both yourself and the man, “it’s on me.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes held guilt in them.

“Positive.” I mean, your paycheck will get cut this month but the man looked like he was going through a lot. An act of kindness wouldn’t hurt, right?

Nodding, he slid his wallet back into his pocket and taking the cup into his head then returning to his seat.

A short moment of silence passed by before the mysterious man spoke again, “Do you ever wish that you were somebody else?”

“Boy, do I.” You didn’t mean to snort but being a college student while working at the same time can be stressful. Clearing your throat, you quickly said, “All of us wished to be someone else at one point.”

At your reply, he nodded his head and looked down at his hands. “Sometimes, I wish I was normal.” He told you, “I’m tired of always trying to please people when they barely please.”

Not sure what he was talking about, you nodded along at his words and waited for him to finish.

“Sometimes I wish I was plain old Jongin.” He sighed sorrowfully.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, “What’s wrong with being yourself right now?” You asked while leaning your body on the counter.

Sighing once more, he answered, “I’m just tired of living a double life. Tired of pleasing strangers and living by their standards. I just want to be myself...Free from judgement.”

“Understandable.” You replied, “But you can do that now, you know. I mean, it’s not you’re an assassin or anything.” That earned you a chuckle.

“I think being an assassin right now wouldn’t be so bad.” He said quietly.

“Oh, come on,” you said while rolling your eyes, “How is killing people any fun? Plus, you always have to worry about protecting the people you love. You have to separate work from family and make sure they don’t interact.”

It was the mysterious man’s turn to snort, “At least no one knows an assassin.”

Getting frustrated at his words, you snapped at him, “And what, people around the world know you?” You crossed your arm in front of your chest.

“Yeah,” he replied, “they do, actually.”

Before you could ask him what he meant, he brought his hands up and unhooked the strings from his ears to pull down the black mask and removing his hat.

A barely audible gasp escaped your lips as the mysterious man faced you.

“Hello. I’m Kim Jongin from EXO. Nice to meet you.”

Nah uh. No. There’s no way that the mysterious man is Kim Jongin from EXO. Of all the places to meet a well known idol and interact with him for months, it had to be the cafe you’re working in. This is like some poorly written fanfiction.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out.

Jongin looked nervous as he looked away from you. “You’re not going to take pictures of me and post it online and have a swarm of fans coming here, are you?”

His words brought out of your state of shock.

Because, 1) What kind of shitty fan would do that? And, 2) His words from earlier but being a plain old Joe echoed in your head. The man needed a place other than his dorm or apartment to be himself. And judging by his behavior tonight? He needed it desperately.

“No.” You said firmly, “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

He had a thankful long on his handsome face, “Thank you.” He smiled at you, his pearly white teeth shyly peeking through, “I appreciate it.”

Although you nonchalantly waved away his words, on the inside you were freaking out because Oh my god Kim Jongin has been coming here, at my cafe — ok not my cafe but the cafe I’m working at — and I didn’t even know?! Oh my gosh! This is freaking awesome! Okay, okay, calm down. Act cool.

“On one condition.” You said.

Jongin’s eyes grew wide in concern as he fidgeted in his seat. Poor man was probably thinking that you would demand money from him...or something worse.

“If you ever need a place to clear your head, please stop by. I’ll probably be here for a while and I could help.”

Jongin smiled again at your words. “I won’t stop coming here. It’s the only place that my fans don’t know about. So you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Your lips curled upwards, matching Jongin’s own smile.

And true to his words, every night Jongin came to your cafe. Some nights were long while others were short. Sometimes he would order something and other times he wouldn’t and just sit at his little corner, lost in his thoughts.

And maybe, like in those poorly written fanfiction, a relationship could blossom between you. Only time can tell.

[fancifulrealist]

The Element of Fire (Choi SeungCheol)

A/N: So I made this like... 5 months ago? English isn’t my first language so I’m apologizing as early as now if this doesn’t pass your standards. I hope you all enjoy this even though this is a simple work of boredom.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that I could actually burn the place down? But.. How?” The boy innocently asked as he was staring at his hands. 

His grandfather always told him that the power representing the element of fire has been passed down through generations. In other words, he is the latest person to inherit the supernatural power. 

He never really believed as he always said that he only saw them in movies and red them in books. But, the only respond he gets was, “Not all you see fictionally are really fictional. Some may be true by either coincidence or a fate that’s undenied.” 

“You know, Seungcheol. You really can’t blame anyone. Our ancestors has inherited the power by accident and has been passed down through other generations. Most of us were trained on how to use them properly. That’s the power of magic, grandson. You shall not take it for granted.” His grandfather proved. 

Cheol scratched his nape, completely confused about everything that he heard. “Really? You’re saying that I have a magic within me? A power that I can control?” 

The old man nodded. “Exactly. Although it might harm you in some cases, it is a big help for you to save yourself. That’s why I’m here to tell you the proper way of handling it. So you won’t get hurt.” 

The young boy’s brows furrowed as the ideas slowly digest in his mind. 

“If this will hurt me then, why would I have this power? It feels confusing.. and weird at the same time.”  

His grandfather just chuckled at how naive his grandson is. Of course, he understands. Seungcheol was new to all of these. 

“That’s why I’m here to orient you about using it properly.” The old man gently held his grandson’s hand. He closed his eyes and whispered a magic spell. 

As he was done whispering the spell, a small flame suddenly lights out from Seungcheol’s hand. The young boy immediately took his hand away from his grandfather’s and shook it in pain. 

“Ouch, that’s hot!” Seungcheol exclaimed as he washes his hand with water. 

“The magic has successfully transferred in your soul. That’s just a small flame. It’s just the beginning.” 

Seungcheol went back to where he was, in front of his grandfather. He was glaring at the old man. 

“There are 3 types of flame you can use. The blue one is for healing. The yellow one is for protecting and the orange one is for attacking. What you saw was the orange one. It is the only painful flame because it is used to attack your enemies. As time passes by, you learn to ignore the pain like it’s nothing. Perhaps after your training, you won’t get hurt anymore. Besides, the other flames aren’t that painful because you can use them to yourself.” 

Seungcheol nodded. He sees the point already. Although he still doesn’t completely understand, he believes that someday he will. 

Seungcheol was currently walking around the campus alone. He’s going to his comfort place- the school garden. 

The school really keeps the place a secret to students. There were beliefs that mythical creatures still lives in that place, lurking for some victims. It was said that they were immortal. They were slain but they kept on reincarnated. 

Of course, Seungcheol didn’t know about all of that as he was a new student. He’s very introverted, that’s why he discovered the place. He has been in the garden for multiple times before and yet, no creatures were encountered. 

The boy sat on the small, wooden bench as he plugs his earphones in his ears. He nods along to the music as he reads his favorite comic book. 

Suddenly, despite the music ringing to his ears, he hears weird growling miles behind him. He looked at his back and nothing was seen. 

Seungcheol began tapping his feet. He was feeling something.. unusual in the atmosphere. 

“Hello? Is anybody there?” He said. 

Just after he called them out, a huge monster appeared. It had fangs that hung low under his wrinkled chin. His brown, furry figure was really intimidating as it had red, glowing eyes that could burn like a laser. 

The boy didn’t feel any fear at all. He was just surprise that he could find some lurking predators somewhere in his favorite place. In fact, he was mind blown. 

The creature then ran closer and closer to Seungcheol but he was able to protect himself by his quick move and yellow flames lighting upon his whole body. 

But, the flames didn’t work as the creature tried to attack him. He had multiple scratches on his arms and his waist due to fighting with it. 

Just then, Seungcheol released the biggest orange flame ever. He molded it in a huge circle just in front of the scary creature. Despite the pain from his wounds, he smiles in success as he was able to make the trick he has been practicing his whole training time

Once Cheol knew that the circle was perfect enough, he pushed it towards the creature, causing the creature to fly backwards to the field of cacti. It growled in pain as he lays down on the thorny plants. 

Just as the boy walked back, he bumped into another creature- a werewolf. Its eyes glowed yellow as it looked at Seungcheol, who is supposed to be its meal.

The whole clan of werewolves appeared in front of the boy, causing the boy to startle a bit. 

“So this won’t stop until I do something... superior. Right?” Seungcheol said as if the creatures can understand him. 

He made tiny bits of orange flame in his hands and threw them up in the air. Once again, a big, yellow flame then lighted up on him as the atmosphere was showered with flames. 

The creatures were screaming as the tiny particles of fire touch their furry skins. Seungcheol then again smiled as he watched them suffering. 

It was like raining- but with small flames.  

“Can a prey defeat a predator? You be the judge.” He said as he kicked away a werewolf that was on his foot.  

Once he felt that no creatures were left, he sat back on the bench, curing his wounds with blue flames. 

He was glad that he didn’t deny the power in the first place. Of course it made him look cool but at the same time, it saved himself. 

[wannawrite]

let go, 고맙다 🤙(二)

group: seventeen

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst but more mature

🗻 happy birthday, jihoon! i love you 🗻

_______________________

Jihoon's line from yesterday kept surfacing onto your thoughts as raindrops drummed onto the window of the bus lazily, drowning out the excited chatter of two female students about their idols and what not.

Feeling slightly bored, you peered outside the rain splotched window to distract yourself with the surroundings. The city was dark, still largely shrouded in a big blanket of calmness and stillness. It was currently 6:30AM in the morning, and the small quadrant of a sun peeking out from the building near you seemed to tease you, like "Ha, you can wait forever for me to light up Busan, sucker."

The occasional rattle of the bus whenever it veered up a ramp hammered your head against the window incessantly, which undoubtedly didn't feel very nice, but you really couldn't care less when you had been made to wake up at such an ungodly hour.

If it weren't for Jihoon leaving today, you'd still be in the warm wrap of your thick blue blanket, enjoying a sweet dream of meeting EXO or some shit.

EXO was pretty important to you.

Your mother had figured that Jihoon was more than that.

The white, glaring light stretching across one end of the bus to the other invaded your eyes with stings for swords as you looked away from the window, which was definitely a huge mistake. Eyes narrowing in disdain at the poor structure of the bus, you cursed the architect under your breath.

Freaking Busan and their shitty plane timings, to drag you out of bed at such an hour.

You sighed.

At least the bus was more or less quiet.

On top of that, you had another thing to be way more sad over.

At that thought, you instantly plugged in your earphones to listen to some soothing EXO ballads and tried to zone out.

You were going to save the tears for later.

_____________________

"Gimhae International Airport."

The sound of the announcer served as the loudest alarm ever, causing you to wake up with a jolt as you realised what was happening, and quickly shoved your water bottle into your backpack.

She's Dreaming droned in your ear softly as you ran out of the bus and tapped your card, but you yanked the earpiece out and stuffed it into your wallet.

It seemed to be a habit of yours-being a total mess and forgetting to pack before arriving at your stop.

Jihoon would always nag at you to be more organised, and you'd roll your eyes in annoyance.

Now, you'd do anything, just to be by his side again.

In slight worry of being late, you held your wristwatch to your eyes. It was now 7AM, and the sun had found that you weren't really that exasperated at it anymore, so it had more or less rose into the air in a hot, red-yellow gradient. The darkness was slipping away slowly, and so was the time that you had with Jihoon.

In all its glory the glass surface of the airport stood there beautifully, boasting its lovely white borders and sophisticated, turquoise tinted glass panes. The sun hit them generously, bursting in front of you into a sparkle-seeming to light up your way to the airport, as if it was sorry for its earlier actions.

After a bit of running, you spotted the doors of the airport and ran in, caked with sweat in the cool of the morning. You would have laughed, but you really had more important things to do than make a fool of yourself. The airport's crowd daunted you a little-kids running here and there, playing catch with each other, couples pushing carts of luggages to go on vacation...there was no way you could be able to see a 155cm boy in the midst of all this.

You got out your phone.

You: yo im here already where ya at

Probably the worst thing of it all was that, Jihoon wasn't even online.

You were breaking down inside. With a jumpy heart, your eyes darted around the crowd for a small boy with bangs, and soon, before you knew it, you were calling out his full name, with such gusto and brokenness laced in your shouts.

It was probably stupid of you to do so, considering the amount of Lee Jihoons there could have been in this airport. It would have been funny if a 5 year old boy named Lee Jihoon approached you with small grabby hands. Eyes of the public followed you everywhere you went, staring at you with a judgemental, irritant gaze.

But you'd do anything at that moment, just to see Jihoon for that one last time.

Soon, you were out of breath after shouting for a whole 5 minutes. You were sweating even more before, and your shirt was clinging to your back uncomfortably. Heavy breaths escaped your lips, as you hunched forward to take a short break.

Your fatigue didn't dispel the uneasy feeling in your heart.

You felt your grip loosening in the control of this situation, and you yelled.

Fate was playing its games again.

At least a bit of it went in your favour.

A voice called out to you.

"Silly, I'm here. I heard you call my name so many times."

At the sound of the light, familiar voice cutting into the climax of your worry, you managed a smile as you turned around to face Jihoon.

He stood in front of you, the same old boy with small, neat bangs and miniscule eyes that held the boundlessness of the galaxy. With a shy smile on his face, he took your hand, which was rare-Jihoon didn't really do skinship, but maybe, this was just as exceptional to him as it was to you.

"Do you see anything different about me today?" he asked, with a small blush creeping up onto his face. Inside, you were just as embarrassed as he was-Jihoon was really cute when he was shy, and his petite figure didn't exactly help.

Still, you scanned his face, shirt, nose. At the sight of his quirky features, like his round glasses and small smiles, it seemed to thrust spears into your heart, one by one.

You'd always look at Jihoon, the same old Jihoon, exactly the same as you did yesterday.

But today you realised his personality, that was weird and quirky? Yeah. Cried easily without anyone knowing? Yeah. Was the source of your strength in your darkest times? Yeah.

Could you live without it? No.

"I-I don't find anything..." your voice trailed off sadly, not wanting to cry as badly as you did yesterday as you swallowed down your feelings with a gulp.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, scanning the expressions on your face-before replying matter of factly, "I have a ponytail today, that's all. Why are you so sad?"

You sighed. It was a stupid reason for being such a wet blanket, but you weren't planning on lying to someone who you loved with all your heart.

"I'll miss all of you, Jihoon. The simple, boyish bangs that tiptoes on your thin eyebrows, seemingly insignificant yet of such importance. Your small eyes, curving into a small oval, that would angle up into two slits as they squint to follow the lyrics spread across the computer. The thin, chapped lips littered with the holes that the winter digs. Your silent, unboasting care for me, that I'll never get again until I don't know how many years later." you ranted on, squeezing Jihoon's hand in yours a little too tight for comfort. "I'm sorry I got so attached to you. I love you so, so so much."

A smile floated onto his face, and Jihoon laughed.

"Am I such a beautiful person to you? I never knew." he responded, with dark red tints blossoming like roses all over the area of his cheekbones. "In all honesty, I don't think I'm very good looking, but you saying that makes me feel like the most beautiful person on earth." Jihoon added with a sheepish chuckle, lips digging out the small dimples in the sides of his face.

You smiled. Jihoon really was so beautiful, inside and out.

But your words said otherwise.

"Bold of you to assume you can beat my visuals, Lee Jihoon." you scoffed, in a faux haughtiness and getting out a good reaction from him, "Your ponytail is cute, but I'm cuter than you'll ever be."

At this, Jihoon burst out into a long fit of laughter, clapping his hands as he always did-it was a cute habit of his.

"Okay, shit, I take that back, you look way cuter than I'll ever be right now." you added on quickly, and both of you exchanged small smiles.

But at last, the moment didn't last long.

"Hey...I kind of have to go now." he said tentatively, lips raising into a boxy, awkward smile, and before you said anything, Jihoon pulled you closer to him, letting your head rest on his shoulder-despite being short for a boy, he was still taller than you by a few cm.

You gently pushed his neck onto your shoulder, and craned over to bury your head further into his neck, just to hide the tears that were already falling down your face.

You were going to remember Lee Jihoon, the boy that had spent a good 7 years of your life with you.

Feelings choked your nose, stinging it painfully, as you heard a few foreign sobs that weren't coming from you. The only liquid on your shirt wasn't just sweat anymore.

Hands on each other's necks, and tears on each other's shirts-it had almost seemed like both of you had become one entity, before leaving for a short while to meet again later on.

As both of you looked at each other's tear stained, snot covered faces in pain, you stuck out your thumb and your pinky, stretching your hand to Jihoon.

"Please, always remember me."

The corner of Jihoon's lips twitched up.

He stretched out his own pinky, and at the same time, both of your pinkies bend to interlock.

"Remember me too, world's number one cutie." he laughed lightly.

Then, before you knew it, his pinky broke away from your grasp, and all that was left of it was a small figure with an even smaller, cute ponytail at his neck area, but really, really big dreams as he walked towards the departure area.

Like cherry blossoms scattered on the floor, you were then, left with all your unforgettable memories with Jihoon.

All but one.

The ponytail disappeared, to reveal a small, smiling face.

He cupped two hands to his lips, and shouted.

"고맙다!"

Subconsciously, his smile formed onto your face.

"지훈이, 고맙다!"

_______________________

[italicwatches]

My Hero Academia, season 2 - Episode 32

Food’s in the oven, so let’s try and squeeze this in while I wait for my meal. It’s My Hero Academia, episode 32! Here we GO!

-We begin at the hospital. Deku’s still stuck in bed, and with nothing better to do, he’s just chewing on news about the whole Stain mess. As far as the public is concerned, Endeavor took down the hero killer, and three young men happened to suffer unrelated injuries due to accidents during their internships.

-Tenya’s already gone back home, his mother having come to retrieve him to recover somewhere that isn’t a hospital bed. Shoto got out of it pretty light, so he was just plain declared safe to discharge the next day, and thus went right back to his internship.

-So now it’s just Deku on his own, waiting for his leg to be useful again, and contemplating what everyone else is up to at their own internships…

-Opening!

-Episode 32: Everyone’s Internships

-So first we cut over to Best Jeanist, taking Katsuki out on patrol. And he has a pop quiz for the kid. The chief reason for patrols is to have a deterrent effect on criminal activity; the would-be crook sees heroes walking around, and decides not to hold up the local bank today. But what’s the secondary effect?

-Katsuki figures it’s kicking ass and taking names.

-Katsuki is wrong. As in all things. It’s to form a connection with the people; the hero walking the beat gets to know their people, and in turn the people know they can trust the hero and rely on them if things go wrong.

-…Anyways that’s when some kids recognize Katsuki from when the slime thing tried to eat him. And so he literally makes small children cry. Repeatedly. Best Jeanist has to figure out how to grind down this kid’s stubborn pride so he’s not, you know, all of this.

-Over to Gunhead and Ochaco. He’s showing her how to deal with a knife or similar weapon, and it’s pretty solid advice against someone who’s not trained. It’s not gonna help against a Stain-type, but she is both deeply impressed and loving that gap-moe that the gentle Gunhead has to offer.

-Let’s see what Uwabami’s up to!

-She’s signing autographs while her girls just stand there and quietly contemplate where they went wrong in life. (It was when you picked Uwabami as your mentor, I’m sad to say)

-Kirashima and Tetsutetsu are helping clean up a park. In hard contrast, Kyoko is doing real rescue work with the rough and tough Death Arms, and her earphones gave them a major asset in a hostage rescue. She’s feeling good about it, too, feeling like she’s really making a difference…For a character who’s so often shown as grumpy and snarky, it’s good to see that earnest pride bubbling up for once.

-And then to Tsu, who’s scrubbing down a boat. One of the sidekicks here, Sirius, is sympathetic that it’s a boring gig out here most days…But you stick with it, and you find your purpose.

-So obviously the Captain being all cutesy is our image. And Sirius is so very embarrassed at the attempted gap-moe from this rugged and tough Captain. But this banter is, itself, kind of adorable.

-Then they get a message from the coast guard! Sounds like they’re getting put to work. The ship’s unhooked, and the Oki Mariner sets sail to go to the rescue!

-And soon Captain Selkie is laying out what they’re dealing with. A ship was reported to have stowaways…But instead, when investigated, all they found was missing cargo. So they’re not just looking for victims of the sea…They’re hunting pirates! Hell yeah! Also Tsu is totally enamored with the Captain’s big tough frame being cute. She and Ochaco clearly need to share their doujin collections.

-So Selkie hits the water, having a Quirk much like Tsp’s: While she has the proportionate strength and skills of a frog, he has the proportionate strength and skills of an incredibly buff seal. So while his crew searches with the ship, he sonars his way through the water…

-Until well into the night, when they’re having no luck…Until they get a report from the coast guard! A fishing boat was spotted fleeing in their direction…And then Selkie gets back with a confirmation that that very same boat is coming their way! Kill all the lights and get ready to sneak up on them!

-Soon the orders are coming in, and Tsu finds herself left waiting on the ship with no room to actually do stuff…But as Sirius lays it out once Selkie gets gone, there’s a big risk any time you’re dealing with something like this. Miles away from shore, away from anyone who could help you…You have to be doubly careful with criminals on the high seas.

-Anyways a flare goes up, blinding the stowaways, and Selkie demands they stop for an inspection at once! Soon the ship’s being gone over from top to bottom…Until Selkie has one last place he wants to look. Open the fish bin.

-…So the two squid lookin’ fuckers turn out to have taken this humble fisherman hostage, and now they have Selkie and his sailors too. And then the fisherman goes in too, leaving enough time for their boss Innsmouth to do his work. I assume he secretly ravishes land women.

-Back at the ship, Sirius’s fine hearing catches a sonar signal from Selkie…Telling them to get after the ‘stowaways’! He’s going to get himself out, but it’s going to take too long!

-Soon, their path takes them to a rocky outcropping, where Tsu gets put to work catching a squid lady. Who promptly gets interrogated and then tied up. There’s only one more person left…

-And meet Innsmouth. Who’s knocked out their last sailor cold, and has Sirius in his grasp! Tsu is on her own now, and Sirius’s attempt to get free with a baton just sees her slowly getting crushed…Tsu needs a plan, and NOW.

-Which is when the other sailors come in on Sirius’s radio. Innsmouth forces Tsu to lie to them, if she wants Sirius to survive…And Tsu remembers Sirius’s words. The true importance of being a hero, and her trust of the captain…

-So she takes the radio…And immediately shouts out their location GET HERE NOW! Then it’s a frantic leap into the rocks, with Tsu whipping out her tongue to catch Sirius and get her out of the line of fire…Only for Innsmouth to catch her and drag her across the rocks! It’s the end for her, if she can’t figure out a way out of this…

-Cue Innsmouth’s underlings being thrown into him, and Selkie arriving with a full display…He gets blinded, but his sonar hearing catches Innsmouth’s every movement, letting him fight and keep the bastard’s attention long enough for Sirius to grab his leg! Now, Captain!

-CAPTAIN KIIIICK

-So Innsmouth goes down hard, as Tsu and Sirius check on each other, and Selkie tries to be all cute about his relief that they’re okay. While Tsu’s figured out a real, honest idea of what’s important to being a hero…

-Back on land, these would-be stowaways are taken away by the coast guard, and they can only apologize that Tsu had to go through something rough like that…But Selkie’s overwhelmingly proud of the kid. Froppy might not be licensed yet…But she’s got the heart of a hero, and the skills to back them up. She’s going to be great one day very soon. And oh, the pride on this kid’s face at that kind of praise.

-Credits!

That was pretty fun! More Tsu time is always a good time. Even if it does leave me with the certain irony that MHA taps into the charm of superhero comics so well, and has so many cool characters we barely get to see, that it really makes me want more people able to pour ideas into it and make a more thoroughly explored universe. Like, I would devour an entire one-cour anime just about a graduated Tsu working on that ship, stopping sea-crime and bantering with her gentle yet buff Captain. And you know my stance on a Mei spinoff. (GIVE IT TO MEEEE)

Do I dare dive into the world of fanfic for my fix? It might be the only option on the board. But for right now, we’ll just have to catch back up with Deku next time, in episode THIRTY THREE of My Hero Academia! Wait for it!

[thegingerwriter]

The Light of The Telephone Box

A short horror story by L.J. Hanslow

Rated M for slightly disturbing themes

The high-pitched ring of my mobile phone filled the apartment, the sound bouncing off the cramped walls of my dust-filled loungeroom. With half a shoe on, a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, and my hair a rat’s nest on top of my head, I groaned loudly at having yet another task to add to my failing, late morning routine.

I spat into the sink quickly, throwing my toothbrush into the cup on my bathroom counter as I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I stumbled down the hallway, trying desperately to pull my other shoe on while I made my way towards the loungeroom. My phone sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room, happily screaming its dreaded sound while I made my way over to it, squinting at the name that stood out on my screen.

Noah.

What was his issue? I already knew I was late- I even told him I would be arriving late about 15 minutes ago, since I messaged him to cover for me with my boss as soon as I woke up. I was already imagining the scowling face of my boss that I would have to face as soon as I crept through the back door of the department store. It was often a difficult task trying to pretend I had been there since 7:00 AM that morning- I certainly didn’t have to be reminded by Noah of all people.

I turned away from the phone, choosing to ignore it rather than get even more annoyed at something that truly didn’t matter. Instead, I ran back down the hallway to grab my hairbrush from the bathroom counter, before running back to the loungeroom for my bag and running the brush through my knotted auburn hair. Throwing my keys, purse and my phone into my handbag, I turned on my heel and headed for the front door.

My hand had barely brushed against the cool metal of my door handle before the ringing of my mobile phone stopped me again. If that was Noah again…

The phone kept ringing.

“For God’s sake!” I yelled in frustration, reaching into my bag to pull my phone out once again. Noah’s name popped out at me again and I had to resist the urge to throw the phone against the wall as I picked it up. I tapped the green picture of a telephone on my screen and put it up to my ear.

“I’m heading out the door now, I’ll be down there in like 10 minutes, can’t you just cover for me?!” I exclaimed into the phone.

There was no answer, except for the sound of someone breathing softly into the microphone.

“Noah?” I asked, already even more irritated than before. I held my breath as three sounds came from the phone. The squeaking of trolley wheels. The cry of a baby. A strangled yell.

I hung up the phone.

No.

Not again. It had been months since I received another phone call. My hands shook as I recalled them, remembering all the times I failed to save people. There was always the sounds. And then, there was disaster. I thought it had stopped- I hadn’t actually had a phone call in weeks, and I certainly hadn’t answered in longer. I couldn’t deal with this again- the hardship. The guilt.

I threw the phone into my bag, trying to forget about it as I finally headed for my front door. I’d keep my ears out today. Maybe I could do something this time.

* * *

I scanned the customer’s items: an iceberg lettuce and some carrots. I had finally made it to work, approximately half an hour late, and arrived to an angry looking boss.

Like other times, I questioned Noah about the mysterious phone call. And just like the other times, I was met with confusion and annoyance.

“I didn’t call you, Harper. I sent you another message after you said you were coming and told you to hurry up. I couldn’t cover for you forever, you know,” Noah had said. Whether that was true or not, I didn’t know. Nor did I think I cared.

However, I was still listening out. Trying to, anyway. When you’re listening for specific noises, they all suddenly blend into one.

I remember… It happened around lunchtime. Noah and I were coming back from our lunch break, talking about my upcoming trip when it happened.

“Just 28 hours and then I am gone for a whole two weeks. No work calls, no family drama. Just me, my camera and the whole of London,” I said, smiling while thinking about the bliss of not having to deal with my angry boss each morning.

Noah laughed. “What made you want to go to London? That’s like an eight-hour flight from Chicago airport. Why not New York? Plenty to photograph there.”

I shook my head. “Already been to New York. And I don’t know… I just saw a lot of… advertising? Yea, I had so many ads pop up everywhere. On my phone, on my laptop… pretty much everywhere.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird, or maybe even creepy that you’re taking a trip because all the advertising you’ve seen told you to?”

Now that he mentioned it, it did seem a little odd. I opened my mouth to reply when the sound of someone calling my name caused me to pull away from our conversation.

“Harper! Come help me over here. I need you to hold the base of this ladder for me while I hop down.” It was my boss’ voice, and it came from high up on a steel ladder a couple aisles down from us.

I shot Noah a look before starting to walk towards the ladder, which shook ever so slightly every now and then. “Coming!” I called out.

I was almost there when suddenly I was forced to jump out of the way as a trolley came speeding in my direction.  Somehow, I managed to successfully move out of the way before I could be run over by the trolley. However, it didn’t stop rolling, and continued on to crash directly into the ladder, the sound making my blood turn cold.

No! I was meant to stop this! I thought to myself. How could this have happened again!

It all happened in slow motion, the ladder falling over as soon as the trolley collided with it. The squeaking of trolley wheels.

Costumers in the store jumped back, a mother clutching her baby as it wailed at the clang of metal on the floor. The cry of a baby.

As my boss fell, he screamed, hopelessly trying to hopelessly grab the ladder, anything, to prevent himself from falling. A strangled yell.

But there was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do.

* * *

I spent the next day in my apartment, procrastinating my packing by thinking about the previous day. I hadn’t slept that night, blaming myself for someone else’s death. Someone, I don’t know who, tried to tell me what would happen. I hear noises, and bad things happen.

Every time, I try and figure it out before it happens. And every time, I am too late.

“Harper stop doing this to yourself!” I exclaimed into the silent apartment. I sat there for a few more moments, before letting out a loud groan. “Why me? What did I ever do to have to deal with this?!”

I wanted it to stop. I thought it did stop. And then it happened again. More death. More guilt.

I glanced across the room at my half-packed bag. No. I decided. I wouldn’t do this to myself. I was going to London in a few hours. I’d catch my flight, I’d go to London, just like I was supposed to.

* * *

I settled into my seat on my flight, thankful for the aisle seat I booked myself into. It was a long flight, and I certainly didn’t want to be in between 2 people for the entire 8 hours.

I checked my phone, sticking my earphones into my ears while making sure I was ready for take-off. I pressed play on my music, but it was interrupted when a call showed up on my phone, a photo of my mother and the word ‘Mama Bear’ displayed on my screen.

I immediately pressed cancel on the call. If my mother needed me, she knew she could always reach me by text message.

The plane began to move as the phone rang again. I pressed cancel.

A message popped up on my phone. Honey pick up. It’s important.

When my phone rang again, I pulled my headphones out and took a deep breath as I cautiously pressed answer.

“Hello?” I said into the phone. A flight attendant appeared behind me in an instant.

“Miss, I’m sorry but you can’t be on a phone call while on the plane. Please prepare for take-off,” the woman said as sweetly as possible.

I ignored her, listening to the phone call. “Mum?”

An old-fashioned telephone ring filled my ears. 

Not again.

“Miss, did you hear me?”

As soon as I heard the attendant’s voice again, I ended it, turning my phone off, throwing it into my bag. “Yes, yes. Sorry,” I said quickly, not even turning to her again.

She left again, and soon; we were in the air.

I spent the entire flight staring into space, wondering how I would be able to save someone this time. On the plane, at least I knew I didn’t have to worry about something happening here, since a majority of phones, were on flight mode. There were constantly telephones going off everywhere- there was no way I could even possibly warn someone. At least with more sounds I could identify it as soon as it happened. But a telephone ring? It could be anyone. Anything could happen.

I must have fallen asleep for a majority of the flight because the next thing I knew, we had landed, and people were loudly pulling their luggage from the overhead lockers.

It was all a blur for the next hour, finding my suitcase in the midst of thousands, leaving the airport, trying to find a cab to take me to my hotel. All one big blur.

When a cab finally pulled up in front of me, I sighed in relief, throwing my suitcase into the backseat with me.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked.

“The Royal hotel please.” I responded, staring out the window as he pulled away from the airport.

I watched the busy London streets roll pass, the commotion and lights slowly dying down as we neared where I assumed my destination was. When the cab driver pulled up on a corner, but not in front of the hotel, I gave him an odd look.

“Sorry, Miss. The road’s closed. If you just walk along down that street and turn the corner, you’ll see a red telephone box. Your hotel is right up ahead.” He said, and I let myself out of the vehicle.

I walked along the pavement, my boots clinking on the stones as I wheeled my suitcase behind me. It was another few minutes before I saw the light of the telephone box up ahead, and sped up, assuming the dimly lit building down the street was my hotel.

I was just about to pass the red telephone box, that luckily lit up a majority of my part of the street, when a flash of movement caught my eye in the darkness on the other side. I squinted into the darkness, searching for something. I told myself I had made it up. Just paranoid walking in the dark, I thought to myself.

I dismissed it, turning to start walking again when a noise made me stop dead in my tracks.

Slowly, I turned to the light of the telephone box as I heard the phone inside begin to ring.

[creativitytoexplore]

My Deal With The You Know Who by Lawrence Martin https://ift.tt/2OJnN6Y A successful author longs for some musical talent, and is prepared to sacrifice his very soul; by Lawrence Martin.

I entered Jake's Deli on Cleveland's west side and, as instructed, took a seat in one of the booths. The waitress came over and I told her I was waiting for someone, and we would order together. A minute later he walked in. From a distance, he seemed to be just another guy coming from the parking lot. Though we had never met, he seemed to recognize me right away. He walked straight to the booth, sat opposite me. "Hello," he said, in a deep baritone voice that sounded affected. I was still skeptical at that point. We shook hands. His hand felt cool, almost clammy, and his grip quite strong. "Hi," I said, rather meekly. "Why did you choose Jake's Deli for this meeting?" "They have great pastrami, of course. Good enough reason." I searched for some sign of his identity and think I found it in his face. The angles were sharper, more unnatural-looking, and his eyes were deeper into the sockets than normal, as if he was made up for some horror movie. He wore a felt hat and I am certain there were two protrusions, one on either side of his head, poking up the felt. This was no imposter, or if so, a very good one. Our waitress returned and didn't look twice at the new arrival. "What'll it be?" she asked, after depositing two waters. He ordered pastrami on rye. I ordered lox and a bagel. "Are you paying?" I asked, sort of joking. "Yes. You'll pay later." He was not joking. I cleared my throat. "So," he said, in a somewhat haughty manner, "what exactly do you want?" "To play the piano. Well." "You play now, but not well?" "Hardly. I am a beginner. An adult beginner. Still at level one. In fact, my current instruction book says it's written for seven- and eight-year olds." "Ummm," he said, suggesting some interest. "And how old are you?" "Just turned fifty-five." "And playing for how long?" "Lessons for a year. No prior musical experience." "But you're an accomplished writer," he said. "Thank you. How do you know that?" "Ah, Howard Greenleaf, New York Times best-selling author. Murder mysteries, private-detective thrillers, I believe the genre is. Yes, I read the papers. In fact I read everything that's printed anywhere, every day. I focus on the obituaries, I must admit." "Funny." "Death is not funny, my friend. That's my business." "I am aware," I said. "Just what level of piano playing do you wish to achieve?" "A higher level," I replied. "Much higher. To play classical. Beethoven, Rachmaninoff." "Impressive," he said. "Ludwig, I had nothing to do with, a true non-believer. But of Sergei I am familiar. Almost had him, but in the end he changed his mind. Brilliant composer, pianist. This will take some doing." "And to play like Barenboim." "Ah, a true prodigy. You ask a lot." "I wouldn't ask if you couldn't deliver. Just tell me the terms." "The usual. Your soul, plus." "Plus? Plus what?" "A time limit. I am patient but there are limits." "I won't accept an early death, before I can enjoy the fruits of my new talent. We must agree on that date, and you must honor it." "Of course. I honor all my promises. That's more than you can say for the other fellow." "I don't want you to pull a Robert Johnson on me." "Ah, poor man. He couldn't keep his hands off another's wife. Such talent. Only after he met me at the Crossroads, of course." Quicker than expected, the food arrived. It looked delicious, and I felt hungry. We both began eating. "Best pastrami in your town," he said. "So, how much time would I have to enjoy my new talent?" "This change will be a lot of work," he said. "First you must sustain some brain trauma, which I can arrange. Nothing serious, but it must be a medical event, or you will not be believed. There are many cases of sudden musical genius following head injury, so that will give you some cover. It also makes my job easier. Then, I think a decade would be fair." "Just ten years? I die at sixty-five?" "Mozart died at thirty-five, and I had nothing to do with that." "That was over two hundred years ago," I protest. "Just a minute ago, in my book." "Yes, but he had a head start. Even with his early death, a thirty-year career. How about fifteen years? I could live with that." What an ironic statement, I realized. After a brief pause while eating, he said, "I can do fifteen, with a caveat." "Which is?" "To the extent you are successful in your new career, you are unsuccessful in your current one." "You mean as a writer?" "As a writer." "Okay, I can handle that. Writing's a chore anyway. And my agent is a pain in the ass. The publisher's no bargain either. They want my books, which are all best sellers, and they only give me fifteen percent. I've even thought of self-publishing. Everyone wants to nickel and dime you. Hey, wait a minute? What will I do for income? My wife doesn't work." "People are always worried about the minor details," he said. "You'll still receive book royalties, at least for a while. At some point you may find your thrillers, shall we say, out of style. But you can make it with your music, that's how good you will become. Though I have a disclaimer, which I give to all talent seekers." "Talent seekers. You make it sound like a category." "It is. One of my largest. Second only to those seeking sudden wealth." "All right, I'm listening." "I will give you the talent. I will not control what you do with it. How you handle the notoriety, how it affects your personal life, will be up to you. Handle things poorly and you may come begging for less time than the allotted fifteen years. I've seen that happen before." "Fair enough. I understand. Say, what exactly does it mean to give up one's soul?" He looked hard at me, took one last bite of his pastrami and said, "Trade secret." Then he let out an eerie-sounding laugh that sent a chill down my spine. I looked around and no one seemed to notice. Perhaps only I heard it. "Do we have a deal?" he asked. I was desperate. Tired of playing Mary Had a Little Lamb, London Bridge and Alouette like a kid still wetting his pants. Tired of struggling through the F and G scales with both hands, while trying to memorize their numerous chords and inversions. At my rate of progress, I would be able to play Beethoven's Für Elise in another fifty years. "Yes!" "Then we shake hands," he said, "and there is no turning back." We shook hands. He took out a $50 bill from some pocket, placed it beside his empty dish and walked out of the deli.

"Call 911!" I heard someone yell, just outside Jake's Deli. "I think he's alive." Of course I was alive. A Toyota Prius had just come over the curb, aiming right at me. Were it not for the light post between us, I would not be what the bystander said. The car wrapped around the post, hit me broadside. I fell to the pavement and conked my head. I saw stars and darkness but could hear. Minutes later I lay in Memorial Hospital's Emergency Department. Then came the CT scan, the elevator ride to the neuro ICU, the endless stream of doctors, and explanations. "A severe concussion, small subdural hematoma, he'll recover. He's lucky. No loss of motor function." That's good, I thought. Wow! So quick. Didn't expect it. I began thinking of the keyboard. Do I know anything? The C-major scale, what is it? C-D-E-F-G-A-B-C. Good. I still know something. Probably no more than before. They released me from the hospital three days later. Cynthia, my wife, drove me home. Our one son had visited me in the hospital and, assured of my full recovery, was back in college, a thousand miles away. "Do you want to lie down?" she asked, as soon as we entered the house. "No, I want to play the piano." "Really? When is your next lesson?" "I have to call to reschedule." "Well, I hope you haven't forgot everything," she said. Cynthia went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I sat at my Yamaha 650DX electronic keyboard and pressed the 'on' button. Played the C scale, then the F scale and G scales. Nothing different! No more fluidity than before. Same hesitancy. I wanted to cry. I opened up the piano book, Level 1, to London Bridge. Right hand treble clef, left hand base clef. I could read the simple notes, as before.

London Bridge is Falling Down

I began playing, and humming. 'London Bridge is falling down, falling down'. "Sounds good, honey," Cynthia called out from the kitchen. I decided to go faster. And faster. She came in to the living room. "When did you start playing so fast?" she said. "I don't think you missed a note." "Really? I don't know. Just tried it faster." Could it be? I went to another piano book, with more complicated songs. Must be careful, I thought. Didn't want to alarm her. I put on earphones, so only I could hear the notes, and opened to Scarborough Fair. Always had trouble with that one. I zipped through it effortlessly. Not possible! Can't be. I did it again. I ran to my computer, printed out Für Elise, Beethoven's simplest melody, a piece any conservatory student could do half-awake but was forever beyond my reach. So many sixteenth notes! Impossible.

Für Elise - Beethoven

Zip! No problem. Before the accident I could read and tap out the notes but never play them with any hint of musicality. Cynthia put a hand on my shoulder. "What are you doing with the earphones?" "I don't want to bother you," I replied and continued playing the tune. "You're not bothering me. I'm glad you can still play. Who knows what that injury could have done to you?"

With some trepidation I went for my next lesson, in the home of Mrs. Esther Marples. She is a nice middle-aged woman, always patient with my piano klutziness. I didn't know how she would adjust to what I could now do. Did she even teach at the higher levels? Most of her pupils were kids. "I heard about your accident," she said. "I'm happy you seem fully recovered. Have you had a chance to practice?" "Yes, and I've tried something a little harder." "Oh? Let me hear it." She expected to hear something from the Level 1 book, but instead I removed from my folder the Beethoven sheet music, and placed it on the piano. "Für Elise? Really? My, you are ambitious." I begin playing. Flawlessly. She let me finish, then said, "That was nice." "Thank you." Her smile then turned to a frown. "But that is not you. I've worked with you for some time, I know what you can and cannot do. Have you been hiding this from me?" "No, honestly, after the accident..." "Accidents don't make people better players," she said. "I don't understand. Why have you come here week after week, struggling with the notes, if you can really play like that? Here, play Alouette for me. That is so ingrained in my mind, I know how you handle it." I could not fake my old way. I played like a virtuoso. She closed the piano book and stood up. "Howard, I cannot instruct you. Something strange is going on, some type of change that is beyond me. I have no experience with pupils like you. I suggest, no really, I insist you find another instructor." We were cordial. I thanked her and insisted she take the check I had in my pocket. I did not ask for the name of another instructor. If I was to find another, I would prefer they not know each other.

I needed validation and did find an instructor in a distant suburb, a highly recommended professional pianist. I used an alias: Howard McGuffin. I felt thankful my fame as a writer was by name only, unlike, say, a movie star whose face anyone might recognize. I explained my playing history as starting in childhood, and that I worked as an accountant. Under this guise I progressed rapidly, and was playing Mozart and Beethoven sonatas in less than a year. My instructor said I should qualify for Juilliard except for my age, and asked if I'd ever performed in public. I said no, I didn't want to. He said I had to give a recital, and that until one performs in public, one never knows if they have the stuff to be a good pianist. He would program me into his next one, a semiannual event for his most advanced pupils. The recital - a local for-charity concert - took place in the community's high school. I was the oldest performer, but there were several young adults and the rest teenagers. All quite talented, I must say. The event sold out. I played a Mozart sonata: sixteenth and thirty-second notes! Here's a few of the opening measures.

Mozart: Sonata No 3

Someone recognized me, and afterwards a suburban newspaper reporter sought me out. I could not lie. Yes, I play under the name McGuffin. Yes, I wrote under Howard Greenleaf. Yes, that Howard Greenleaf. The next day, in the suburban newspaper, the headline read: Once-famous author debuts at recital under alias. Then the sub-headline: Developed sudden talent after hit by car. The "once-famous" hurt. I had done no writing since the accident, held no book signings and given no interviews. I was beneath the literary radar. Worse, my last manuscript, submitted just before the accident, had been rejected by the publisher because "it's too much a copycat to your previous book." The editor had suggested a rewrite, which of course I could not do: too busy practicing. Actually, that's only partly true. I did try to rewrite one chapter and but had no interest in finishing it. No, that's not true either. I didn't know how to do it. I had lost my writing skill and my desire. As predicted. It was now music or... senility. Book sales fell off and my income plummeted. Fortunately, the recital proved a success and I was approached to do piano gigs. The first and best offer came from an unexpected source: Majestic Cruise Lines. They were looking for a no-name but accomplished pianist to play in one of their ship's lounges, short classical pieces preferred. Their clientele were the ultra-rich and ultra-sophisticated. Free room and board for two weeks, for Cynthia and me, and a stipend of one grand to boot. I jumped at the chance. The route included several ports of Asia. The cruise was exhilarating. I only had to play two hours a day, so we were able to enjoy most of the sights and shipboard activities like everyone else. Mid-cruise, while alone on the deck looking out over the Pacific, I heard that same deep baritone voice from Jake's Deli. "Enjoying yourself?" I turned and faced him. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Ah, Howard, watch your language, please." "I have many more years to go." "Of course, of course. Just checking up. It's our first anniversary. Just making sure everything is working as promised. I have delivered, have I not?" "Yes, now let me be, please. I want to enjoy this trip." "As you wish," he said, and then disappeared. Not literally - he just walked through the revolving glass door leading to the starboard cabins. Strange, though, I never saw him on the ship again. As luck would have it, one of the ship's passengers was a professor from Oberlin Conservatory of Music, only forty-five miles from our home. This professor taught music theory and played piano himself, but did not perform professionally. He came up to me one evening, praised my playing and offered some unexpected insight. "You are very good," he said, "but if I had to guess, I would say you came to the piano late in life, probably in your twenties." "Oh? Why is that?" "I can tell. There is a difference between prodigies who start as kids, and those rare adults who learn to play well after full maturity. Tell me if I am wrong." I wanted to tell him 'age fifty-five', but knew he wouldn't believe me. "You are correct," I said. "Started in my late twenties." "Ah, so. Once you start late, it is very difficult to acquire the skills of someone who started at five or six or seven. I believe Barenboim was six. Mozart only four." I knew he spoke the truth. And despite my new-found ability, its limitations pained me. He must have seen the pain in my face. "I can help you," he offered. "I think you should come to Oberlin, let me work with you to see if there isn't some room for improvement. Just a suggestion, nothing guaranteed. If you commit, there will be no fee. You will be part of my research." I agreed instantly. Was it just a coincidence that this professor taught near the very city in which we lived? Later, in our cabin, Cynthia had some doubts. "Are you going to commute? It's over an hour from our home, more if there's a lot of traffic. And what about your gigs?" she asked, concerned about our plummeting income. "I can still do gigs but not as many. Maybe I can stay in Oberlin during part of the week, come home on weekends." We agreed I should give it a try. I stayed in Oberlin Monday through Thursday, and came home for long weekends. The professor secured a dorm room for me, as a hotel was too expensive. One night, alone in bed and lonely, I called home but Cynthia did not answer. I called her cell and got a voice message. Where could she be at 10pm on a Tuesday night? Obviously a concert or something, but I got worried. No, really, I got suspicious, so I drove home right then, arriving around 11:30. She was not home. She returned to the house at midnight and was shocked to find me waiting. At first, she feigned disbelief that I would question her, but then she cried. Yes, she was with another man, she admitted. "I'm lonely," she said. "It's got to either be me or the piano." Then I remembered the conversation in Jake's Deli. How you handle the notoriety, how it affects your personal life, will be up to you. I had no notoriety, but my personal life was suffering by devotion to the art. I did not want to risk losing Cynthia. That had not been part of the bargain and did not have to happen. And I had no intention of giving up the piano. I professed my love for her, vowed not to let her transgression interfere with our relationship (though I did think of killing the guy), and in the end convinced her we should sell the house and move to Oberlin. With the money from the sale we could easily live in an apartment, and she could enroll in college courses she'd always thought of taking, mainly art history. And so we sold the house and relocated. The professor turned out to be something of a taskmaster, determined to prove that late starters could learn to play as if they had begun in childhood. I was the oldest adult player in his research project. Somehow I managed to avoid discussing my "early years" of playing since, of course, they didn't exist. Later, he did hear that I became a pianist only after a car accident, at age fifty-five, but I don't think he ever believed it. In any case, it never became an issue. The important thing is that, under his tutelage I played better and better, until one day he asked me to perform with the Oberlin Symphony. The fiend had delivered on his promise. I knew the day of reckoning would come, and I'd have to deliver on mine, but tried not to think about it. Time passed and I became somewhat famous on the second-tier concert market. After Oberlin I played with the Toledo Symphony, then had gigs with orchestras in Columbus, Louisville, Indianapolis and Little Rock. I played mostly the easier piano concertos. Before my accident, these concertos would have been unthinkable. Now I must fast forward. Life was good until it wasn't. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and underwent surgery that curtailed my performing career for several months. The doctors were optimistic but I was less so. How could I live fifteen years if my life was cut short by cancer? After all, we had a bargain. He showed up in the hospital the day after my operation. "Just want you to know, I had nothing to do with this," he said. "What?" I was incredulous he would make an appearance at this time and disclaim responsibility. "I get you at fifteen," he said. "Sooner if the other fellow chooses to interfere. So don't blame me." As if he had a conscience. "I don't blame you," I said. "Just make sure my talent isn't affected. It damn well better not be." He smiled and then, as he is wont to do, exited quickly, without another word. I did recover, and my talent wasn't affected. Still, I was living from day to day, always practicing but never making enough to get by comfortably. Meanwhile, I concentrated on Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5, the magnificent Emperor - my ultimate goal. Anyone who can play the Fifth has arrived. The years went by, and I won't bore you with the life of a second-tier concert pianist. But Cynthia stayed with me. And never once did I think of ending my bargain earlier than the allotted fifteen years. Nor did I ever wish for the old days of writing bestsellers. I let music be my passion. Then one day I was invited to play with the famed Cleveland Orchestra, in a children's concert at Severance Hall. Their pianist had taken ill, and I was the closest good one around. It also helped that I was available on short notice - one day. The program included brief selections from Mozart and Tchaikovsky. My playing must have impressed, because the conductor asked what I could play at full length with the orchestra. Without thinking, I said "Beethoven's Fifth." "Let's see," he said, and arranged a rehearsal. I passed, and he programmed the piece. But not in Cleveland. In Carnegie Hall, New York City. The Cleveland Orchestra performs there every two years or so, and they were delighted to feature Ohio's "newest musical prodigy," as one trade publication later put it. Cynthia and I traveled to New York two days before the concert. There would be only one rehearsal. I was so involved with preparation that only when we arrived in New York did I realize the concert night was the fifteenth anniversary of my handshake. So the big night came. I scanned the audience and didn't see him. You may not believe me, but I did not feel nervous. I played my heart out and the audience loved it. From the opening multi-octave notes Beethoven wrote in 1811, I was transfixed, transformed, in another world. It was as if I had transcended the stage, the hall, the city, and was no longer of mortal flesh but with Beethoven. Yes, with Beethoven. Forty-one minutes later we were done. A moment of silence, then the audience stood, clapped and cheered. They were, it seemed, rooting for me. Not just for my musical ability but for me. The performance over, the orchestra members began drifting away. Just then a tall man in tuxedo entered from the left wing. He stood out because he wore a bowler hat. Of course I knew it was him but, still elated by the performance, played dumb. "What do you want?" "It is time." "I suppose so," I said, ready to meet my fate. I just didn't think the end would arrive at the very pinnacle of my career, on the threshold of becoming, if not famous, at least financially secure. "However," he said, "I must admit, I was so impressed with your performance tonight, I am truly reluctant to call in the chit at this time." "What?" "If you continue to give performances like that, I am willing to extend the term, with no further conditions." What could I say? He was giving me more time. And no conditions! "I don't have to do anything else?" "It would be a pity to snuff out this talent, and where you would be going, sadly, there are no pianos. Continue to play well, my friend." And with that he left, as abruptly as he had appeared. I felt excited and elated. Now I could continue playing, what I loved and wanted most. By this time I was alone on the stage, with the vast auditorium nearly empty. I walked to the front of the stage, to take one last look at the vast space. Carnegie Hall! Magnificent. Suddenly, all the stage lights came on at once, blinding me. I lost my footing and fell forward, head first. On the way down I heard an eerie, high-pitched laugh - vindictive and horrifying in its meaning. His laugh. I started screaming. "No! No! No! No!" Then everything went blank. I woke up in the ambulance with a severe headache. Oh, not again, I thought. Yes again, only this time to New York's Central Park West Hospital. Same routine as fifteen years ago: exam in the Emergency Department, followed by head CT scan and hospital admission. "You've suffered a concussion, and because you blacked out we need to keep you overnight for observation," said the ED physician. When I reached my private hospital room, there were already messages from the Orchestra's conductor and concertmaster, wishing me well, and stating my performance had been great. The conductor said to call him when fully recovered. Very encouraging. Cynthia did not want to go back to the hotel alone but, being assured by the doctors that I would survive, left the hospital around one in the morning. She was told she could pick me up around noon. So I am now sitting in bed, updating this whole saga on my portable PC. For the record, I am a fast typist. Of course you want to know if I can still play the piano. You're perhaps thinking that with the new head banging I might have lost the ability. Well, I wonder also. I can envision the notes for Beethoven's Fifth in my head, but can I play it? I needed to find out, and just after Cynthia left went searching for a piano. All sizable hospitals offer music therapy and keep a keyboard that can be wheeled to patients' rooms. So I got out of bed and walked to the nurse's station, demanding access "to the hospital's keyboard." I might as well have demanded a double dip butter pecan ice cream cone. The night nurse told me, "It's the middle of the night. Everything is locked up. I'll leave a message for the day shift to see what we can do then. Now get back to bed." Okay, she did say "please". Rebuffed, I have just returned to my room. I want to sleep but can't, still excited by the night's events. What you are reading now I typed at two in the morning in bed, on my laptop computer. What's this? Someone has just wheeled in a portable keyboard! My request was honored. Wait. That someone is a tall male nurse. It's him! Dressed in nurse's garb. I must record everything, not get excited. Will type and save as long as possible. I am typing, he is speaking. He says I asked for the keyboard, here it is, he will be happy to listen. And he has my medicine, he says. "What if I can't play?" I remind him I've suffered a concussion. I want to ask if he pushed me off the stage, but sense the question would serve no purpose. Now I remember his words back at the Hall: If you continue to give performances like that, I am willing to extend the term. "We have a bargain," he says "How did you get in? You're not really a nurse, are you?" "We made a deal," is his reply. "Do you not want to play? Just a few opening measures of Beethoven. That will be fine. Then your medicine." I can say no. I want to say no. I want to go to sleep. But there is the keyboard. There is my salvation. Could the concussion take away fifteen years of musicality? I am curious. I am scared. I am getting out of bed. For the record he is dressed in a nurse's uniform and I see the Central Park West Hospital logo. So a male nurse from this hospital. He won't give his name. He just says to play. I am scared. But I want to see if I can still play. If you don't hear from me again, goodbye.

EXHIBIT 15 Above certified and submitted in toto and without alteration, Case #27633, New York City, NY January 8, 2--- Cynthia Greenleaf, Executrix of the Estate of Howard Greenleaf vs. Central Park West Hospital, in the wrongful death suit of Howard Greenleaf...

[guidedbygunpla]

Gundam Sports Story Chapter 2. Back Home in Tonosho

The scramjet landed as it always did, its giant parachutes opened up and the last few G’s were decelerated out of the giant titanium bird. Catalyst and Ryu were escorted to their car, and started on the long drive out from the airport.

               “you know, I think it’d be better for Ohm if we moved to the city, he’d have more kids his own age, out here in Kagawa its all senior citizens and college kids, no one lives here anymore.” Ryu said as he motioned around them taking his hands off the wheel briefly.  “out here, im worried aside from video chats with his online friends, he wont really….you know, have any friends”

               “I didn’t really have any friends when I was growing up, I turned out fine” Cat said, her head resting on the cool glass of the window. Watching the sun as it set on the bay

               “oh I’m sure that isn’t true Cat, I’m sure you had friends when you were a little girl”

               “no I’m sure I’ve told you before, there were hardly any kids on Moore, it was a business side, so it was mostly young men and women just getting their careers growing, so I was always 5 years older or 5 years younger than almost everyone, there were only like 10 or so kids in most of my classes all through school…never really liked any of them. That’s why I moved to  Hatte after grade school, I wanted to go to college with people my own age, I didn’t have many friends until that point.”

               “well that’s exactly my point, don’t you think Ohm deserves that? You know, to grow up with kids his own age.”

               she looked behind her, as ohm layed across the back seat, covering up with his coat like a big blanket.

               “yea, I suppose…..but I don’t want to move away from your parents, they love getting to come see ohm when we’re on break, or after big matches….I think it does them good” she said looking back out the window as the bay disappeared behind a sea of trees and old homes.

               “Cat, is this a depression thing…you know I don’t want to pry” Ryu said setting a hand on Catalysts leg.

               “maybe, I think its just I don’t want to live someplace that exposed…I like being able to just live here, I don’t feel like a celebrity you know. I mean everyone here knows me, but they aren’t stopping to ask for my autograph or anything, just asking how you and Ohm are, I hate being watched now….it makes me feel like I’m back out in the Sides….I always felt like someone was watching me out there.”

her eyes seemed to stare off, past everything around them

               “I know Cat, you’ve told me before, the giant windows made it seem like someone even miles away could see you, that’s one of the reasons you liked working as a book keeper, you didn’t really have to be around anyone”

               “it kept the noise down” Cat said, her voice a bit toneless

               “I know, you always say the newtype thing can get overwhelming, you always thought it was just anxiety when you were a kid” Ryu said, their car cruising into their drive way, their garage door slowly rolling up “Cat we can talk more about this once the season starts to wind down, but I really think we should talk about getting Ohm at least into a school district where he would be able to make some friends”

               cat just nodded, she got out of the car and grabbed her duffle bag from the trunk and walked inside their home. Ryu woke up Ohm and walked him up to bed. Their home wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t spacious. Sure they could afford a nicer house. But They liked living a smaller life, living on the run during and after the war made them learn a lot about what they wanted in life, and it wasn’t stuff, it wasn’t things, it was eachother. And it was Ohm.

               Ryu got Ohm into his pajamas and into bed. After a while he walked into the room, as Cat slowly worked herself in and out of sleep, her muscles ached, and her head was a storm. The last few matches were just qualifying bouts, a formality to see who in the Japanese League would represent Japan in  the Grand Prix, but the fighters were hungry, and many more then usual were Newtype expressive this year, maybe not full Newtype, but they were expressing some base characteristics, heightened awareness, auras, intrusive thoughts. It was exhausting. Catalyst grew up thinking a lot of her intrusive thoughts and fears were just anxiety or depression, but what it turned out to be was she was able to hear more passionate thoughts from those around her, and feel the auras press out from people experiencing strong emotions. A common expression of Newtype abilities, it wasn’t until she was put under the life or death event that was the Moore colony incident that her real powers, the foreknowledge, seeing things happen before they do and being able to react in kind, and the physical 6th sense where she could feel the movements of others who have habited a space before and follow them. She hated the thought that this year she might have to face newtypes with similar abilities, up until now, aside from a few of them with foreknowledge or the one kid from the Oceanian Union who could telepathically yell at her and project images into her thoughts, she had a pretty easy time of it….she hoped this year would go as smoothly.

               “everything okay Cat?…you look stressed” Ryu spoke, softly as he climbed into bed alongside her. She smiled up at him

               “no, I’m alright, just thinking about work”

               “works over, home time.” He said kissing her on the top of her head

She sat in the flight simulator that sat in the corner of her garage, watching computer generated images move around her as Tenneth spoke through her headset.

Ryu was old fashioned in a lot of ways, Cat liked that, it reminded her of her grandparents, who were the first generation to be shipped out to the sides. Ryu grew up on earth, and as such didn’t seem to possess any Newtype abilities, and didn’t seem to put off any aura or even intrusive thoughts. That was one of the things Cat loved about him, when she met him he was one of the first people in her life who didn’t express even a tiny bit of psychic energy. She couldn’t read his emotions through anything but her eyes.  And neither could he, but he could read her like a book some nights. Cat snuggled up to Ryu and drifted off to sleep.

_______________________________________

               “come on Cat, let that anger out, you’re getting too clouded. Remember, don’t think, act. If you want to avoid having a Newtype spring some mind game trap on you, we need you to ignore all those intrusive thoughts and all the noise up there, and just hit them.” Catalyst used the small thumb stick on the right flightstick to cycle through her combat maneuvers, and select the appropriate ones as the situation called for them, with the most common ones mapped to her primary triggers on the left and right and the two thumb buttons on either side of the thumb stick. A simple block here, a windmill block there, cycle through the menu, Judo Transition, Kata Ha Jime hold, followed by punching the opponents camera out. Battle reset, the simulated mental noise being piped into her earphones increased in volume as it did so. Another round of simple block, windmill block, menu cycle, scarf lock, opponent reverses, Kata Gatame to reverse said reversal, elbow drop to back of head. Combat resets, volume increases, opponent moving faster. Windmill block, opponent has a heat hawk, windmill block again, axe swinging in, opponent moving very fast, Deashi  Harai throw, opponent is briefly stunned, Uki gatame hold, try to wrestle away the heat hawk, heat hawk secured. Opponent punches the cockpit of the GM, the first one catches her of guard, the second causes the combat alarm to sound, ending the match.

                 “you alright Cat…didn’t want to over stimulate you, but figured throwing a few faster ones in there wouldn’t offset you that much” Tenneth spoke as he walked into the garage, turning the lights on as he did so.

  she wasn’t paying attention to his hand once the heat hawk was freed.

simulation ended, the noise finally stops

               Cat took the earphones out and sat back in her seat.

               “no…Ten I think I messed up…I’ve been worrying since last night about whats going to happen if another Newtype on my level actually makes it into the Grand Prix this year, theres a lot of lower rank fighters I’ve gotten paired up with during these qualifying matches who have some abilities, what if someone on my level shows up, who can really throw me off my game” Tenneth sat down in the chair facing the simulated pilot seat itself and handed her, her water bottle.

               “well Cat, that’s a good question….I mean intrusive thoughts and that one Aussie who could telegraph stuff at you were bad enough, that’s why we added them to the training routine”

               “telepath” she said

               “im sorry?”

               “the Oceanian Union fighter who used the Gray Efreet with the twin heat hawks, he was a Telepath”

               “ah right, sends words an pictures into your head, that’s what I said.” Tenneth stuttered “I mean is there a lot worse than that?...when you say someone on your level, you gotta remember I’m not entirely sure what that entails”

               “well I know some of them can cause low level visual hallucinations, like, in Terra Stormriders book, War and Humanities place in it, she talks about weaponizing  Newtypes, I guess one of the ones she fought during the war was able to make it seem like she was running through a field with them, as little girls, she said she felt like she was there for hours with her. Imagine if I got in a match and some jag puts me in a submission hold and then transports me to some psychic day dream while I accidently tap out or what have you…..how would I even combat that.”

               “well…I mean I could see about finding some Newtype pilot, I know a few from the service, I  could call one of them,set up a few test matches with him, we could do the fight in the fukushima exclusion zone, wouldn’t have to worry about helicopters or anything, you and them could work through some counter Newtype techniques, try and figure out some solutions to deal with whatever happens.”

               Cat took the straw to her waterbottle out of her mouth and thought for a moment “well…I mean the worst that could happen is theres another Newtype out there who might end up in the Grand Prix who would know said counter Newtype techniques….guess it’s better then going into a Newtype V Newtype fight blind. Got anyone in mind?”

               “I’ve got just the guy, he was the Feddie Airforces Ace of Aces, took down over 100 dopps, and even took out a gow carrier single handedly. All with a saberfish, if memory serves, he’s started fighting on the Brazillian circuit” Tenneth said pulling up his MSMMAA stat chart on his tablet. Handing it to Catalyst after he had done so.

               “he’s doing pretty well in qualifying, so who knows if he’ll make it to the Prix or not, but he looks like he might make it in. whats he piloting for his qualifying matches? He have a corporate sponsor?” Cat said finishing the last of her water

               “right now he’s got a Feddier surplus Zaku, was being used as a test suit in Oceania, near the Sydney ruins, but guessing he bought it off em, or stole it, or won it who knows. been using that, guess he modded the mocap computer, added some basic krav maga and what not into it, nothing too fancy with the zakus limited range of movement of course.  guess hes doing pretty well for himself out there in Brazil…no listed corporate sponsors though. I could call Canon up, ask to barrow the Madea and have him and his team flown over. Set up some fake photo shoot somewhere, get all the mobile suit paparazzi away from the fukushima zone, so no one will be any the wiser.”

cat handed the tablet back to Tenneth

               “and we’re sure hes full Newtype, not just expressive?” she asked

               “that’s what interviews with him will have you believe, no specifics on how his manifests, but from what he says about it, it sounds like hes pretty powerful. Foreknowledge, projection the works. Must be how hes moving up the ranks so quick.”

               “wonder why he left the federation? Said on there he had been promoted to captain” Cat asked as she leaned forward and started to log out of the simulatior

               “donno, maybe there really is just that much more money to be made in the fighting pit than in a fighter jet.

[imaginebeatles]

Poetry Nights | Chapter 1: In which an art student meets a poet

Pairing: John/Paul

Rating: PG-13

Set in: Modern AU

Summary: 21-year-old Paul McCartney, who has recovered from a breakdown due to stress and his mother’s unexpected death, has recently moved to London where he now rents a cheap flat with his friend George. Having needed to give up his medicine studies, he has decided to start over and go to art college instead where he meets the rude and troublesome John Lennon, a young poet, who, much to Paul’s dismay, also happens to be his neighbour.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles and this is fictional. I do not make money off this.

Author’s note: First part of my entry for the McLennon Big Bang! It’s kind of late, but well... it’s here. Before anyone’s going to ask, I’ll be posting A&O every Monday as well, so don’t worry. There is no fixed schedule for this one. I’ll just post a chapter whenever it’s finished. I’m probably not going to be able to finish this on time (there will be seven chapter), but we’ll deal with that when we come it. Also, look at this gorgeous moodboard @fabpaul made for this fic! 

Author’s note 2: It’s been a while since I lasted posted something, and I’m really nervous about this. I hope you guys are going to like this. Like I said, there are going to be 7 chapter in total. Please let me know what you think! You can also read it on AO3.

Although he had not initially intended to spend his first weeks as an art student at the library, it was where he most often found himself after his classes and during his free mornings and afternoons. Because the semester had only just started, the library was practically empty most of the time, save for the occasional over-enthusiastic, over-ambitious student who was already cramming for tests that were still weeks if not months away, and writing essays about topics that had not even been properly discussed yet in class, sitting with their noses buried in books with such flimsy paper, that it looked like it would tear if handled in any way but with the utmost care. There was something “uncool about spending all your days at the university library, making time-tables, revising notes, studying texts, writing essays, and cramming for exams, that made most people want to stay away from such places as much as possible, not wanting to be considered “one of those people”. Paul would have done the same, that is, if he had cared at all about what was and was not considered “cool”, which obviously he didn’t. Not one bit. At all.

Truth be told, he enjoyed the library. It was quiet, peaceful, filled up to the ceiling with books containing fascinating information about curious topics and ideas he did not yet know about, there was free Wi-Fi, plenty of spots to plug in your phone or computer when needed, and, most importantly, no one to bother you by asking annoying questions or playing Guitar Hero at an ungodly volume, while stuffing their face full with potato crisps and diet coke, wearing nothing but a pair of plain, light blue boxers that looked suspiciously similar to a pair you owned yourself and would burn the next time you saw them. On the second floor they had opened a coffee corner where you could grab a cup of tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, along with some (cheap!) sandwiches, cookies, and other snacks (they even had vegan options), of which Paul took full advantage. They had also put down a couple of old battered couches for people to sit on, and honestly Paul could not imagine why anyone would want to spend their days anywhere else, except when they did have normal roommates with at least a sense of common decency.

At the moment he was sitting at a table on the third floor, rearranging his time-schedule in order to fit in his morning classes as well as his first assignments and regular homework, while still leaving him time to go on a forty-minute run every morning through the park that was not even five minutes away from the flat he and George shared. He had his new MacBook Air – a present from his father – open in front of him and had his wireless earphones – sadly not a present, but an expensive impulse buy he had yet to regret – planted firmly in his ears in the hope to block out all the outside noise as he listened to The Kinks singing Strangers directly into his ear, a memento from his and George’s first traditional movie night that would happen every Friday evening for the coming three years that they would be living together. They had watched The Darjeeling Limited, the perfect combination of comedy and drama with a nice aesthetic and good music, and just weird enough to be highly enjoyable and intriguing. It had been George’s pick, which meant Paul was allowed to choose the next one, which just had to be The Dead Poets Society – he was already looking forward to it – after which he was going to make George watch The Graduate because he hadn’t seen it and that, in Paul’s eyes, was a cultural sin if there ever was one.

A couple of rapid taps on his arm alerted him of his neighbour, who was sitting opposite him, drinking tea and stealing some of his veggie crisps as she revised her class notes on the fundamentals of dramatic text. She was a great girl, really. Stunning, with fair skin, long copper hair that cascaded down over her narrow shoulders – a shade that matched the colour of her painted lips – and kind blue eyes that shone brightly beneath her fringe that was bordering on the edge of being too long. But she was clever and funny too, with a mouth that was fouler than what he had initially expected, and a confidence that would have made Paul believe she was a professor rather than a first-year student, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was far too young to be one, being not yet nineteen. She was a great friend.

“I’m going out for a smoke and get myself another cup of tea. D’you want anything?” she asked as she stood up from her seat, fumbling around in her bag in search for her phone, cigarettes and lighter, and cursing at herself when she couldn’t find the latter. Paul, realising he had been staring, declined and offered her his own lighter, which he took from the pocket of his denim jacket.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back. Mind my bag, yeah?” She didn’t wait for Paul to nod or reply, and turned around and started heading towards the stairs, her heels clacking rhythmically on the synthetic floor as she went. Sighing, Paul reached for his own phone and checked his messages. Apart from a text from George asking him if he could swing by the store for some milk before he went home – they had run out again – there was nothing. It wasn’t so much that he was expecting something, but he had hoped to see at least one message from Dot, not having heard from her for a few days. The number of messages that normally went between them had started to decrease more and more over the last couple of weeks, especially since he had moved to London for his studies, which would usually warrant more messages. The thing was, though, that he wasn’t sure if he truly missed her. George said they needed some time to work it out, but lately he was feeling less and less certain of that, which made him feel even worse for not talking to her more often like he should.

Putting away his phone, he turned back to his time schedule and made some minor changes to is as he finished his tea, before he decided to do some reading for the following week, hoping that if he could get most of it done today, he would have the weekend off to relax and do something fun. George wanted to go out and live the student life like it was supposed to be lived according to every single movie in existence; so, naturally, Paul hadn’t been able to say no to that, being in the mood for getting drunk and enjoying the tantalising sight of hot boys and girls in sexy, tight outfits, even if he could not touch. Some harmless flirting was always fun.

He had barely gotten through the first two sections, however, or the peace and quiet that surrounded him was rudely broken by some loud shouts and laughter, which he could hear even through the music that was still blasting in his ears. Annoyed, he took out his earphones and glanced up to see a skinny lad – a little older than himself, but shorter and more fragile-looking – being slammed into a wall, laughing loudly as he struggled to hold onto a stack of papers he was holding in his arms. Some of the papers slipped from his grip anyway, despite the boy’s best efforts, and landed scattered on the floor. He shouted something at where he had emerged from, and knelt down to pick up the papers again as he wiped some tears from his eyes, which were covered by a pair of tinted sunglasses.

Not long after a second guy appeared from that same direction. He was taller and tough-looking, wearing a pair of tight black jeans, the ends of which he had flipped over once, a green plaid shirt with a leather jacket – faux leather, Paul hoped – and brown boots. He had a pair of glasses on his nose that reminded Paul of those Buddy Holly used to wear, and his brown hair had been styled into a tousled quiff, both of which, under any other circumstance but this one, he would have found incredibly attractive. He was laughing loudly as well and pushed at the smaller lad’s shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and fall down again, the paper slipping from his fingers once more.

Rolling his eyes at them, he turned up the volume on his computer and went back to work, but found it had become increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the words he was supposed to be reading, the sentences being too long and containing too many complex words, that he found his thoughts drifting away and his eyes towards the two men who were still causing trouble on the other side of the room. He considered telling them to be quiet, but decided not to, knowing these types of guys from when he had still been a teenager in Liverpool, where he had had to deal with guys like this on a regular basis in school. They thought they were too cool for anything and better than everyone else, and there was nothing you could say or do that would not end with either you running away or being punched in the eye. Being bisexual hadn’t much helped in school either, and he preferred to stay away from them now, not wanting a repeat of last time.

The curious thing was, though, that rather than being disruptive for the sake of being disruptive, these guys did seem to be doing something, namely bothering people and handing them those papers the lad with the sunglasses was holding in his arms, most of which were rather creased at this point, but neither of them seemed to care. They also laid some of the sheets on empty tables and in stacks between books on the bookshelves, which made Paul curious to know what they said. The two guys, on the other hand, did not seem to take any note of him, so Paul kept to watching them silently, hoping they would not spot him. Especially the taller guy, who had a pair of thighs that made it extremely difficult not to stare at him. He shouldn’t. He had a girlfriend.

“Chocolate cookies were twenty percent off, so I got you one as well,” a voice suddenly spoke next to him, making him jump in his seat and quickly look away from the two guys who were bothering a couple of girls a few tables away from him, and glanced up, only to be hit in the face by said chocolate cookie that had been thrown his way.

“Thanks…” he muttered in reply, half annoyed, half grateful, “you could’ve just given it to me, though, Jane, but injuring me works fine too, I guess.”

“Don’t be such a baby and accept the free food, will you,” she replied and sat back down on the chair opposite him. She smirked when Paul did as she had said without another word and began to eagerly take it out of the packaging; he harboured a deep love for anything chocolate that was too strong to be denied.

“Jane?” he asked after a few seconds, pausing from munching on his chocolate cookie, “do you know those guys?” He pointed at the two men who were still talking to the same two girls, one of whom looked intrigued, while her friend had turned away to try to read her book again. She couldn’t, however, as the taller lad with the quiff was now poking her book, while the other chuckled, but tried to get him to stop. Jane groaned in annoyance as she caught sight of them.  

“You know them?”

She moaned, but nodded. “You get to know them soon enough. They’re kind of hard to ignore. Well, John is. Stuart – the one with the sunglasses – he isn’t that bad, really. He’s quite sweet when you catch him alone, artistically talented too, and his girlfriend, Astrid her name is, is a nice enough girl, but when he’s with John…” She shook her head and turned to glance over her shoulder to look at them. “I don’t even know what they’re doing here! Probably just trying to cause trouble again as always – John! Leave them girls alone!” She shouted that last directly at the two men, who looked up in confusion before a flicker of recognition flashed across the taller guy’s – John, Paul now knew – face and a grin spread across his lips.

“Miss Asher! My beautiful water nymph! What are you in the library for? Classes have barely even started yet!” he cried out, in a tone that was a little too melodramatic to be truly funny, but Paul could not help the grin that involuntarily appeared on his own lips. The guy jumped off from the table he had been sitting on and nudged his friend to tell him to follow him, that same mischievous grin still on his lips.

“Don’t bother with the niceties, Lennon. They won’t work, as you well know. And some of us do actually work hard, in case you didn’t know. Which begs the question what you are doing here,” Jane called back at him, as she watched them come over.

“Ah! That’s where you are mistaken, my dear. I value my studies highly. Just not in Nerd Central,” John replied with a charming wink when he was close enough and turned to look at Paul, who was watching him with interest, wondering where Jane would know a guy like him from. He did not appear to be anyone whom Jane or her friends would be acquaintances with. And what was this “water nymph” business? “But never mind that,” John continued after a brief moment of silence, “who is this handsome guy you’ve brought along, eh? New boyfriend?”

“I’m Paul. And we’re just good friends,” he quickly brought in before Jane could answer for him. He really was handsome, though, with almond-shaped eyes that shone darkly from under his thick-rimmed glasses, a strong jaw, and an aquiline nose. His hair, Paul now saw, was more auburn than brown and had a reddish shine to it as the light hit it, making it hard for him to look away.

“Good. I’m John. This is Stu,” he nodded at his friend and paused for a moment as he took a second to look his new acquaintance up and down, as if unsure how to place him. “You look familiar. Those eyes… they’re quite distinct.”

“Impossible. I just moved here a few weeks ago. I’m a first year.”

“You don’t look like a first year. Couldn’t you find the door or something?” John said with a jeering laugh, but Paul wasn’t so easily intimidated and cocked his head at him as he leaned back in his chair, trying to assert some dominance, which made the other’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Studied medicine before this, actually,” he explained calmly, “back in Liverpool. I quit during my first year, took a gap year afterwards, and now here I am.”

“Why? Subject too hard for you, pretty boy?”

“No. I found out that if I became a doctor, I’d be bound by oath to help stupid pricks like yourself as well, and thought I’d do more good for this world if I didn’t.”

“Oh, kitty’s got claws, doesn’t she?” John crooned and Paul started at his words, feeling a flush creep up to his cheeks, which he fought to repress. Before he could come up with a good comeback, however, Jane had mingled between them again.

“Do you want anything, Lennon? If not you might as well just leave,” she said, and John tutted at her in disapproval, but kept his eyes firmly onto Paul’s, looking at him with a gaze so intense, it made Paul squirm in his seat. He refused, however, to look away.

“Don’t worry, Miss Asher. We don’t plan on staying. Me and Stu here were simply giving out some flyers to advertise our monthly poetry night. You two want to come?” As he said this, reached for the stack of papers in his friend’s arms and laid two of them down on the table for them. Curious, Paul took one, while Jane ignored hers.

“You already know my answer, Lennon,” she said and John nodded with another one of his dramatic sighs.

“And it will not be the same without you, my dear, as you well know. How about you then, Doctor Big Eyes?” he asked, turning once more to Paul, who had been reading the flyer.

“You’re a poet?” he asked instead of answering, ignoring the uncreative insult. John nodded as he bowed to him.

“John Winston Lennon, your most humble and ingenious juggler of words, at your service,” he said in a not-so-humble tone of voice. Paul ignored him and looked back at the flyer in his hand. Although the design was rather cliché, with a vintage mic on the front and a red theatre curtain in the background and the usual cursive font, it looked pretty well-made. At the bottom of the flyer he could see John’s and Stuart’s names in bold cursive letters, as well as two others he had never heard of.

“You don’t look like a poet,” he remarked, throwing the man’s own words back at him, as he glanced up at him and awaited his reaction. Sure enough, his lips twitched in annoyance and his hands bawled up into fists, but he failed to look truly intimidating.

“Well? Are you coming or not?” John asked through gritted teeth, clearly ticked off by his talking back at him. “It’s this coming Thursday evening from 8 till 11 at the café next door to here. You can either listen or perform your own stuff, if you even have any. There’s cheap booze as well.”

Paul shrugged as he offered him his flyer back. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he said as if that explained everything, and turned back to his book which still lay open in front of him, hoping the guy would leave. It was probably for the best the guy proved to be a total dick, though it would have been nice to meet a hot guy who didn’t act like a jerk of once. He supposed George was right, his taste in men was despicable, and he shouldn’t make that same mistake again. To his luck, John did as he had hoped and snatched the flyer from his hand, before turning around to leave, grabbing his friend by his wrist to drag him with him.

“Think it over sometime, Paul. Maybe you’ll change your mind. See you around, Miss Asher,” John grumbled bitterly and with that, the two men left, heading straight towards the stairs, which they hurriedly descended.

“Is he always like that?” Paul asked once he was certain the two men were out of earshot, keeping his eyes on them for a second longer, before he turned to Jane who was looking at him thoughtfully, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” she said after a moment of consideration, “normally he’s worse.”

                     The troublesome poet remained on his mind for the rest of the afternoon, despite Paul’s best efforts to forget about him and do his reading like he was supposed to. The thought of him even followed him into the supermarket and onto the bus home, leaving him restless. He didn’t know why but for some reason he was doomed to only find guys attractive who were total assholes, and John Lennon was one of them, it seemed. He was terribly good-looking, and Paul could always appreciate a guy who wrote poetry or did anything artistic like that – he wrote songs himself, which he considered a type of poetry in itself, so it would have been great to have someone with whom he could share that passion – but, of course, the guy had to be an utter douchebag. It was a curse and terribly unfair.

As he mulled over his tragic fate in his mind, he climbed up the stairs to the fourth floor where his and George’s flat was situated, the lift being out of order again, as it always seemed to be. The shopping bag felt heavy in his hand, having bought not only the requested milk (two cartons, mind you), but also some frozen veggies, a couple of bagels, and two bottles of apple cider, as well as a package of jelly beans for George, having figured he might as well, and he felt a great sense of relief once he finally reached the right floor. Taking his keys out of his schoolbag, he momentarily put both bags down and opened the door to his flat, where he was greeted by the unpleasant smell of old pizza and beer, as well as some loud and obscene curses, which told Paul the gaming tournament hadn’t yet ended. Sighing, he heaved the bags inside and kicked the door shut before making his way into the living room where his suspicions were confirmed as he saw George and his friend Ringo sit on the edge of the couch, playing Mario Cart. At least now they were dressed, which Paul considered a blessing. Ringo appeared to be winning, having a smug and relaxed grin on his face, his bright blue eyes twinkling in delight, while George only cursed at the screen and called out various colourful profanities as he once again drove over a banana peel.

“I see you guys are having fun,” Paul muttered as he put his schoolbag down on the floor and reached into the shopping bag to get out the jelly beans which he threw into his friend’s lap, who cried out in joy.  

“Jelly Beans! Thanks, Paul! You’re the best- Oh fuck!” Hastily, he turned back to the race, where he had just knocked into a wall, causing Ringo to burst out laughing as he easily manoeuvred past the last of the obstacles and crossed the finish line first, much to George’s frustration, who looked like he was about ready to throw his controller out of the window.

“I hate you!” he grumbled at Ringo, and punched him in the stomach in revenge, causing the poor man to double over, though he kept on laughing, seeming okay.

“Rematch? I’ll even let you pick the track,” Ringo suggested, and George narrowed his eyes at him, but gave in anyway and ripped the package of jelly beans open. He muttered something about needing something extra to help him along, and stuffed a couple into his mouth.

“Don’t eat too many, Geo! I’ll be making dinner soon! Richie, you’re having dinner with us, right?” Paul warned as he began to kick off his shoes while checking his phone for any messages from Dot, but when George grumbled something inaudible back, he knew it was already too late.

“Don’t worry, Paul. I don’t think you can overeat when your stomach has been replaced by a black hole,” Ringo said, laughing, which he quickly regretted when George hit him again. He, once again, doubled over again and gripped his stomach, while George continued to munch on his jelly beans. “I was going to let you win, you git, but now you can go fuck yourself for all I care. I’ll come help you later, Paul. First, I need to ride George off the fucking Rainbow Road.”

“What?! You said I could choose! I suck at Rainbow Road!”

“Exactly,” he concluded and with that he selected said track, just to spite him. Paul chuckled at their bickering, and, shaking his head, grabbed the groceries and started to make his way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He was in the need for some good food, which at the moment meant some simple pasta with tomato sauce, because it was easy and quick to make and not too expensive, which were the three crucial ingredients of good food when you were a poor student living away from home, who spend way too much money on other things, such as clothes and pretty editions of books and LPs. Besides, pasta was simply delicious and no one could tell him otherwise.

Once he had put the groceries away, washed his hands and got some water boiling for the pasta – a mixture of penne and fusilli because they didn’t have enough of one kind – Ringo, who had once again been victorious, judging by the angry shouts coming from the living room, came into the kitchen to help. Paul made him cut up the onions, tomatoes and other veggies, while he himself made the sauce and grated some cheese to go on top. They had almost finished when George came in, a couple of jelly beans stuffed in his mouth and a piece of paper in his hand.

“Macca? What’s this?” he asked, waving it around above his head to catch his attention. Paul frowned when his eyes landed on the flyer, recognising it immediately.

“How did you get that?”

“It was sticking out of your bag. I’ve heard about these poetry nights. They’re pretty good, or so they say. Are you going?”

“No. Some asshole gave me one, which I handed back, damn him! He must have secretly put it in my bag when I didn’t notice. Ugh!” Paul took the flyer from his friend, which he crumpled up and unceremoniously threw into the bin.

“But I thought you liked pretentious shit like this. You know, listening to snobby, edgy, emo kids reciting their amateur existentialist poetry and all that. If you don’t have anyone to bring along…” George offered, staring at his friend, as if unable to belief he would say ‘no’ to anything like this.

“It’s not always like that, George. There’s some stuff that’s really good! And it’d be fun to go, but not if it means running into that guy again. You wouldn’t say this if you had been there, you know. The guy was a real asshole and I already told him I wouldn’t come, so who knows what he’d think or say when I’d show up anyway! He’s bound to be there…”

“Who cares!”

“Well, I’m not going to let him have that satisfaction!”

“You’re seriously going to let this guy ruin a fun evening for you? That doesn’t sound like you. So what if he’s there?! You don’t have to talk to him, do you? And if he does start bothering you, just tell him to stuff it! Besides, it’d be good for you to do something fun and relaxing and go out for once. Even Dr Collins told you so, remember?”

“I don’t need some shrink to tell me when I should and shouldn’t be having fun, Geo. Besides, Dot and I always meet on skype Thursday evening, so I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. Let’s just forget about it, okay. Dinner is ready,” Paul concluded and with that the conversation had ended. The three of them all got their food and George made sure to grab them all something to drink, before they headed back into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Ringo let George pick something for them all to watch, which Paul supposed was reconciliation for having beaten him so often at Mario Kart and whatever other games they had played that day, and soon they were watching telly and having their dinner while George and Ringo spoke about all sorts of things, such as George’s new super-hot girlfriend, Pattie.

Paul mostly kept out of the conversation and sat quietly on the other side of the couch, staring at his food as he ate, not feeling in the mood for any social interaction all of a sudden, which happened from time to time. The telly was loud, but he ignored it, and thought about Dot. What was she doing? Why wasn’t she texting him? Did she still look as pretty as she had done when she had wished him goodbye at the train station? Was she happy? Was she waiting for a message as well? Should he text her? Or was she busy with other things? Did she have someone else? Shaking the thought of her from his mind, he instead forced himself to talk to his friends, needing the distraction.

“Hey, Geo? Did you manage to talk to our neighbour yet?” he asked once George and Ringo stopped talking for a moment. He couldn’t have chosen a better topic, for as soon as the word ‘neighbour’ passed his lips, George sat up and went off into a tantrum, that made Paul grin in amusement.

“No! The bastard has been out all day! Or he won’t open up, which would make it even worse! Like, I’m starting to doubt there’s even anyone living there, to be honest. Who is out that many times a day?! It’s ridiculous! But of course, for some reason he does manage to find the time to steal from us! Fucking bastard,” he grumbled, and angrily pricked some pasta onto his fork to get some of that frustration out of his system, which made Paul feel somewhat relieved their neighbour wasn’t home right now with his friend being in a mood like this.

“Wait someone has been stealing for you guys?” Ringo asked, eyes wide in surprise. Paul opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, George had thrown down his fork and was already talking at a speed that made it hard for the other two of follow what he was talking about.

“Yes! Someone has been stealing our internet. I am certain of it, because our connection has been incredibly slow lately and when I looked at the device list of our router, I saw some unknown device on it – dirty name, of course. Me and Paul have been asking people about it for over a week now, and we still haven’t found the guy! The only person left is our neighbour, but he never seems to be home, which I think is highly suspicious!”

“He is like a ghost. All we hear is music coming through the walls at ungodly hours. A bang or two is usually enough to get him to shut up, though, but he never answers the door. George sees that as an admittance of guilt,” Paul brought in with some intense nodding on George’s part. Ringo, however, didn’t seem to impressed by the serious crime that was being committed right under their noses.

“So? Just change your password,” he suggested and Paul grinned at him as he shook his head.

“We’ve tried that.”

“Multiple times,” George added, “it’s like he can read my mind or something!”

“Well? Who is your neighbour?” Ringo asked and both Paul and George shrugged.

“We’ve never seen him. According to the neighbours it’s a guy, but they’ve never spoken to him. Descriptions don’t go much further than that. They’ve only even seen him in the dark when he comes home.”

“We might need to call the landlord if he hasn’t been seen by the end of the week. Before something starts to smell, you know,” Paul suggested and George agreed with a voice that sounded a little too excited about the prospect, while Ringo only chuckled, muttering something about them having wild imaginations, which Paul couldn’t deny.