#do not come for me I love that silly cat man and his drum solo

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Me: Yeah, I've been just listening to the Stožice album, I've got one song that I've been just repeating over and over–

Them: Demoni, right? For the scream?

Me: ...

My Spotify:

Me: .......sure. Demoni. For the scream. Absolutely

[iamdunn]

Miraculous Flash Forward Part 16: Familiar Enemies

A Miraculous Fan-Fic

Written By 

AJ Dunn

It had been years since the four of them had done this, it made them all feel like children again as they walked around Paris looking for Andre. The sun was beginning to descend casting hues of pink and orange across the blue sky.

“It���s the most romantic time of day.” Marinette said. “I bet we’ll find him by the Seine.”

“I agree, Andre never could miss a romantic opportunity.” Alya agreed. Nino took her hand as they ran like children towards the bridge. This was where the Liberty used to dock all the time. Adrien remembered when all of their friends would gather on this bank to eat Andre’s ice cream and listen to Kitty Section. He had always wanted it to be Marinette that he shared an ice cream with, but she always denied having feelings for him, no matter how hard he fished for it. He smiled down at her as they waited behind Nino and Alya to get their ice cream for the first time. 

“Uhh… Marinette, what a vision of perfection, and Young Adrien is a man fit for her protection…” His face seems more delighted to see them together than pretty much anyone else. “Mint for his emerald starre, Black Cherry for the beautiful lives you will share, Your love is as destined as the stars astuc upon the sea. You two were always meant to be.” he handed Adrien the cone as Marinette and Alya giggled. They sat down by the Seine for old times sake as they reminisced. 

“Wait, you finally proposed?” Nino wasn’t quiet. “Did she say yes?”

“Well, no, she kinda just babbled for a few minutes until I just kissed her and that was the end of it.” Adrien looked at her cheeks now flushed then spooned a bite of ice cream into her mouth. 

“Do you guys hear that?” Alya said as everyone quieted to listen. There was music playing nearby, band music. They all stood up and headed down the bank of the Seine until they found the source.

“The Liberty.” they all shouted in unison as they ran towards it. The gangplank was up and they could see their old friends playing. Luka and Julek on guitars. Ivan on the drums. Mylene, and Zoe, seated on actual seats rather than box’s. There were two small square tables now on the deck with four chairs each. Mylene and Zoe were seated at one table. The song came to an abrupt end as Adrien crossed the gangplank with Marinette’s hand in his. They were following Alya and Nino, but when the song ended it was the moment Luka’s eyes caught Adriens. 

“It’s about time.” Luka set his guitar down and ran to the couple. He threw his arms around Adrien’s neck pulling him tight into a hug. They were nearly the same height but Luka was still rather thin compared to the musculature tone of Adriens chest and shoulders. “I knew you two were roommates, and there had been rumors that you were more.” he said as he pulled away. The turned his attention to Marinette giving her a hug, stooping to reach her shoulders. 

“Adrien...Adrien...Adrien.” the band called to him urging him to join them on stage. Adrien blushed as he pulled out a seat for Marinette. Alya and Nino sat down at the empty table with Marinette. Zoe and Mylene moved their chairs and pushed the two tables together so they could all sit together. Adrien stepped up to the keyboard.

“I haven’t played in so long.” He confessed. “But uh, can you guys do this.” he hit a few notes mimicking a tune for a song. 

“Bad Romance, hell yeah.” Luka said.

“I don’t know the words to that one.” Rose said, as she was the main singer.

“Let me handle this one.” Adrien smiled. He looked over at Marinette. She hadn’t been listening so he started playing out the tune. The audience stopped talking and watched. The upbeat music took over as Adrien began to sing the lyrics. Juleka almost missed her beat as she was caught off guard. Rose stood quietly listening to him before she too began to sing, didn’t know all of the lyrics, but she knew the harmony. 

“Adrien, I always knew you a lot more rock & roll and a lot less piano solo.” Luka smiled. “Another one?” Adrien smiled at Marinette who’s eyes locked on his. Adrien nodded. Adrien started playing a tune, Luka recognized it and began playing along with Juleka as Ivan stilled his drums to watch. 

Adrien's voice rose up as he sang a song that often played in his mind when he was with Marinette. It was Perfect, by Ed Sheeran. The crowd awed as the words slipped softly from his lips as he played his eyes lost in hers. He watched her face glow. Her hands folded together under her chin. He almost lost his words as her eyes twinkled with the love he felt for her. When the line about having children came, she blushed and turned her eyes away. He hadn’t gone that far with her, not yet. He wanted to, so badly it hurt, but he was holding on to the one thing he had never given anyone, he wouldn’t give it away that easily and he was sure she had never experienced it either. 

The night out on the town had been a well needed break from the twins. They were spending the night with Tom & Sabine, in Marinette’s old bedroom. They were happy to get to bake cookies and Tom was excited to teach them. Adrien mused over what it would be like to have grandchildren and this was his trial run.

Adrien and Marinette made transformed into Cat and Ladybug for a high rise tour of the city. A means to get back to the people they used to be. This time, as they ran from rooftop to rooftop with Adrien’s cat puns and jests, Marinette returned his jokes with snarky playful comments in response. Adrien was happy she had stopped shutting down his playful side and let herself enjoy it. The one hesitancy he had to let her have all of him, was her inability to accept all of him. He had worried that she only saw the sunshine boy that his father had made him out to be, and that she wouldn’t accept him for who he really was. 

“I hope you can love this side of me,” He said as he collided with her in mid-air. He hung by one arm suspended under a street lamp as he clung to her with the other. “Because this is who I truly am. Not that.” He looked up to see an old poster of him from his modeling days sprawled out on a street advert. It was from his fragrance commercial. Suddenly and before their eyes, the images changed to photos from the days his father made him pose with Lila. She was kissing him, but he never kissed her on the lips. A pink heart was around their faces as the close up showed them locked in a loving embrace.

“What the…” Adrien lost his grip on the lamp post as he and Ladybug slipped to the street below. 

“Adrien.” Marinette said, staring at the image. “You and Lila?” 

“I never have,” he said angrily. “This is fake. But how.” Ladybug swung her yo-yo angrily at the poster knowing that vandalism was a crime didn’t change the ache in her heart. The image dissolved into smoke and an image of Kitty Section took it’s place. 

“A mirage.” Ladybug said. 

“Vulpina?” 

“But how, Hawk Moth was the only way she could receive her powers.” Ladybug thought for a second. “Trixx.” She called Alya, 

“Do you have Trixx, are you still wearing your…”

“Slow down girl, yeah of course. Why?” Ladybug sighed and told her about the mirage. They heard a maniacal laugh coming from the rooftops and quickly descended, letting her phone call go. They scout the town until they saw her coming towards them. It was Rena Rouge. 

“I came as quickly as I could.” Rena said. “Where…” they could hear the laughter again coming from an adjacent rooftop.

“You will never be as powerful as me, Rena Rouge.” The voice came from the supervillain Vulpin. 

“You’re just a bad copy from an old book.’ Cat yelled back. The three stood on the rooftop ready for whatever she would send their way. 

“Hawk Moth will give me any power I want,” She sang into the air. 

“Hawk Moth?” the three said together. In an instant, the maniac was gone. She was just another illusion. The three separated, agreeing to meet up later to discuss what just happened. 

“Felix?” Marinette asked as they sat on the couch in his room. “I hate to think he is Hawk Moth, but…”

“It fits. I mean he was the last one to have the broach, he disappeared before the end of the tempest battle, and…” 

“He’s been missing ever since.” Marinette finished. 

“I uh, had someone make up the next room for you…”

“OH…” Marinette folded an arm over her chest draping her hand on her shoulder. “Okay.” 

“I mean, you said…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck for a minute as he stood up looking at his childhood bed. They had slept together before, but it wasn’t a regular thing. He stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it on the floor. Looking back down at her as she sat on the couch. Her face slowly turned up as her eyes traced the lines on his belly to the lines on his chest. Her face glowed brightly until they locked eyes. 

“Well?” He offered her his hand. She took it as she stood up. He guided her to his bed. He pulled back the blankets on the side she normally slept on and pulled her to it laying her down. They had already put on their pajamas, however, he liked to sleep with as little on as possible when he slept alone. However, with her in his bed, he didn’t trust his own self-control without a few layers between them.

She clung to his hand as he stood at the side of the bed. He dove over her making the bed bounce. She giggled as he playful rolled around messing up the blankets. She scruffed his wild blond hair before he straightened himself laying his head on the pillow only centimeters from her face.  

“Silly Kitty.” Marinette rolled to her side and faced him. 

“I hope this doesn’t BUG you.” he played. 

“You’re imPAWsible.” she giggled. He loved it when she used cat puns. He kissed her lips as his hand weaved through her hair. He pulled her into him as her hands wrapped around his waist, throwing one leg over him. She maneuvered her body till he was on his back with her straddling him. He shuddered as he felt her warmth on him. Her kiss, hungry for his. 

His hands held her at her hips as her chest lay flatly on his, her hands now in his hair. Oh, if only he had his Cat suit on. It enhanced all of his senses and was the kind of protection he needed right now to give him the resolve to not go too far. He twitched his fingers into her sides tickling her in hopes of breaking this hold, knowing he didn’t have the will to stop it. She began to squirm on him. Her hips moving from side to side as they rubbed on his…. He gasped. Had he known she would move like that he would have thought twice about it. 

“Adrien.” She stopped to look at his face. She must have seen the look on his face as she settled down putting all of her weight onto his hips. Suddenly she shot up on her knees lifting her weight from him. He gripped her hips so she wouldn’t go too far. 

“Shh.” He brought one hand up to her face cupping it gently before bringing it to meet him. Their lips locked again as she settled herself back down to his hips. Her face had brightened to a red he had never seen before and it broke him, he didn’t think he had the will to stop. Suddenly there was a noise at the window. They both jumped from bed to see what it was. The light in the bedroom blocked out the view of the darkened city outside. Adrien ran to the switch, turning the light off. There was a figure standing on the rooftop across the street, someone was watching them. They ran to the window but the figure ran from the rooftop. 

Marinette sat on the bed shivering. Adrien put his arm around her trying to comfort her. 

“Someone was watching us.” She squeaked embarrassed at the compromising position they had been seen in. “Were they taking pictures?” That is certainly what the sound was, a camera click without a flash. Adrien often kept the window open but he closed it and set the lock. He noticed something attached to the window. A note. Attached to a suction dart clung to the window. 

‘Enjoy what you have now

Before I take it all

YOU WILL BE MINE!

“What is it?” Marinette asked from the bed. He handed her the note. She dropped it the instant her eyes saw the words. A shriek left her mouth. “Do you think it was meant for you or me?” Adrien looked back at the window. 

“If it was Vuplina.” He paused.

“Then it was meant for you.” Marinette finished. “Lila has always wanted you, and would do anything to get rid of her competition.” 

“What do you say? We check out the room across the hall, the windows there are less visible to outsiders.” He took her hand and led her across the hall. 

Marinette left the house before Adrien woke up. She had spent all morning searching the internet for someone. Alix wasn’t in France anymore, in fact she was participating in extreme sports in Florida. Marinette pulled out the horse miraculous and merged it with Tikki. She used a portal to plop herself into Alix’s bedroom. She was still asleep but at least she was alone. Pegabug woke her up. Alix sat up rubbing her eyes trying to make out the figure before her. 

“Is it time?” Alix asked as she sat up. 

“I think it is, Someone has the Butterfly Miraculous, and now Vulpina is back.” Alix was suddenly awake. She remembered how much chaos the illusionist caused especially during Heros day. “I think you will know when to use this.” She handed her the pocket watch then went over the instructions for how to use the Kwami’s power after introducing her to Fluff again. 

“Should I come back to Paris?” Alix asked. 

“I think you will be fine, better safe to keep your distance, just monitor everything from here.” Pegabug then made another portal. Good thing she had built up the strength to use her power more than once before needing to recharge. She returned to the manor and found Adrien standing in front of her. 

“Did you give Alix the bunny?” He asked. Pegabug released her transformation and nodded. “Good, we need to call Luka.” He said picking up his phone.

“NO, we need to call EVERYONE.” Marinette said. “NO one but us can know about Alix. and only because you have known as long as I have that she would one day be Bunnyx.” Adrien called Luka while Marinette and Alya. They were calling a team meeting at the one place Lila didn’t know about. The Barge. 

The band was playing by the time Adrien and Marinette arrived. They had to stop by the bakery to make sure the girls weren’t causing too much trouble. Luka, Juleka, Rose and Ivan jammed out a beat as Mylene, Zoe, Alya, Nino, Max, Kim, and Kagami, sat at the tables. The music died down as the band set their instruments aside. 

“Shall we all go downstairs.” Luka walked everyone inside. The Living room area was large enough for the whole group with a large sectional style couch wrapping around the wall leaving a large enough area for the band to practice if they chose too. Everyone but Marinette and Adrien sat down. 

“We have an announcement to make.” Adrien started, his arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “We are getting married.” 

“Finally.” the whole group said together as they all began to mutter amongst themselves about how long it had taken for them to finally see the moon through the stars. Something that was so obvious, that everyone else seemed to know but they were always too blinded by the stars to see it. Adrien could feel the heat in his cheeks as a shy smile spread on his face. He was still kicking himself for being so oblivious of Marinette in high school. He knew she liked him, but thought it was only his model status and her desire to become a designer, nothing more. She never thought she was good enough for him. 

“That isn’t the only news.” the crowd hushed as Marinette spoke up. “Mylene wasn’t the first of us to receive the Mullo, the mouse miraculous, I was.” Marinette confessed. Alya, Luka and Adrien were the only ones to know the truth of this group. So keeping Ladybugs secret was imperative. 

“And I am Aspik, I held Sass before Luka did.” He said with a shy smirk. “I wasn’t very good at it, but I am close friends with Chat, we play video games together and…” 

“Talk about how horrible the rich boy's life is together?” Luka jokes. “You rich boys were probably skiing in the Alps.” 

“Wait, Cat Noir is rich?” Ivan asked. 

“Richer than I am.” Adrien confessed scratching the back of his neck. 

“Ladybug and Cat Noir found us this morning, they had followed a suspicious person to our window. Where they found this.” Marinette helped up the note. 

“So it was Vulpina.” Alya said. The group began to mutter worried about the illusions that nearly ruined everything for everyone. 

“Who is Vulpina anyway?” Kim asked. 

“Lila.” Marinette said. “The master of Lies and illusions.” Shock fell on the faces of the group. They had all believed her lies and coddled her even against Marinette who they all agreed was the most honest of them all. 

“We will all stand together again.” Luka stood up putting his fist into the center of the room. Zoe and Juleka joined him. Kim, who was always up for a competition, was next. Soon everyone stepped in as Adrien and Marinette refrained. “Get in here.” Luka smiled knowingly at them. They added their fists to the bump.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Rockstar (Indruck)

A friend on discord, @morganeashton, requested #28 of the meet ugly list for Indruck: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]. This is NSFW.

A peril of high quality sound equipment is that when it goes out, it’s very obvious.

The mic goes, his guitar and Dani’s bass cut out, and the effects are gone. For a moment it’s total silence as the audience watches him. 

Then he picks up exactly where he left off, notes coming as easy as breath. After a moment Jake starts up quieter than usual on the drums, giving him rhythm. By the time he finishes, the mic and instruments are back on and the applause is deafening. He smiles to himself.

He’s still got it. 

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

Duck knocks on the dressing room door. 

He’s so fucking fired.

“Come in.”

Mr. Cold is sitting at a mirror, takes note of Duck’s reflection.

“Ah, Duck, I thought it might be you. Mama said you were the one who disconnected our sound tonight.”

“Yessir. I, uh, it was an accident, I was movin somethin in a tight space and caught my foot on the cord without noticin’. I’m, uh, I’m real sorry, and, uh, I’ll, uh-”

Mr. Cold holds up his hand and Duck shuts his mouth. The singer turns, in his chair, face now free of make-up. His features still have that alien edge to them, the strange mix of young and old that’s made his attractiveness the subject of much debate. Duck knows where he falls on it; anyone who thinks Indrid Cold is anything other than sex on legs should get their eyes checked. 

That won’t help him, he knows that.

Indrid leans back in his chair, “you don’t need to plead your case to me Duck, for two reasons. One is that I’m not the one in charge of hiring or firing the road crew. That falls to Mama and Joseph completely, and if I ever tried to toss someone out for an accident they’d put me in my place very quickly. But more importantly, I’m not angry with you for what happened. Quite the opposite.”

“You...wait, really?”

Mr. Cold counts off on his fingers, “The space was small, so everyone could still hear me. There’s been rumors I’ve been using a dub, so this ought to quell them nicely, and” he looks at Duck over his trademark red glasses, smile widening, “it was unexpected, something that’s rare for me these days. When you get to this level of fame, everyone is terrified of not having a flawlessly executed plan. But that is not how the world is; it’s not how art is. So it was nice to have the chance to show everyone that the unexpected can be invigorating. Thank you for that.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome?”

Mr. Cold  smiles as he stands up, “you should sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s fine, uh-”

The singer simply rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes. Duck sits. 

“Would you, ah, like a drink? The hosts here left a very nice bottle of tequila.”

“Sure.” Duck tries not to stare as he bends over to retrieve a glass and a bottle, pouring Duck a shots worth of tequila that costs more than his rent. Duck mumbles a thank you when he hands it to him, then gawps when Mr. Cold sets the bottle aside and retrieves a Capri Sun from the mini-fridge.

“I can’t stand alcohol. Used to try for the sake of fitting in but” he makes a face like a disgusted cat, “eech. One moment, I need to change.” He disappears around a corner, leaving Duck to wonder what the fuck the polite thing to do is. Mr. Cold is always polite to his crew, but he keeps to himself much of the time. Not to mention Duck’s only been with them since the tour started a month ago. 

A photo on the table catches his eye, and he scoots his chair closer to get a look.

“Was, uh, was this an alternate cover or somethin?”

“Hmm? Oh” a light laugh, “no, though you’ve got a good eye; we shot it the same day we shot the cover image for The Cryptids. That was a shot that was nixed because we looked too silly, I think Vincent had said something funny and cracked Barclay up, who set me off. I bring it with me to every show, a sort of good luck charm mixed with a reminder of where I came from.” 

From the faded photo, nineteen year old Indrid Cold smiles at him. 

“I take it you’re a long time fan, then.” Mr. Cold reappears in a pink and yellow bathrobe, the last color scheme Duck would have assumed he owned. 

“Yeah, over a decade. I, uh, I was sixteen when The Cryptids released their first album. Scraped together fifteen bucks to buy the C.D and wore the damn thing out I listened to it so much. Never heard anything like it. That’s, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “that’s not why I took the job, though. Mama didn’t tell me who I’d be crewin’ for until after I accepted.”

“If you’re afraid of looking like a ‘fanboy,’ don’t be. Do you know how Joseph came to be our manager?”

“Uh, story I always heard was he came backstage during a show on your first tour and offered.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “he did. But what very few people know is that he came back in his lovingly homemade  ‘Bigfoot’s Boy’ t-shirt and a a lot of glitter--remember, that was the E.T tour so everyone was space themed--clearly having left the house with the intent of trying to get into our bassist’s pants, and instead proceeded to tell us he’d seen how our manager operated through the night and we could so better and here’s how.”

“Jesus.”

“He was remarkably intimidating in spite of the glitter and his argument was airtight. So we fired Hayes and hired him. He did eventually bang our bassist, but that was perhaps obvious.”

“Given that they’ve been married for like five years, yeah. Still can’t believe Barclay went from beiin a rockstar to bein’ a chef.”

“He was always an ingenious cook. He once made breakfast using nothing but the still-hot engine of a mini-van.”

“AGH, god, why?”

“We were broke and hungry and there was nowhere to buy food.”

“That’s hardcore.”

“Mostly just oily.” Mr. Cold grabs another Capri Sun, sitting down across from him, “hmm, if you were sixteen when we started, did you ever get to see us?”

Duck shakes his head, “only kinda. Y’all mainly played twenty-one plus places even after you started gettin big, then you weren’t tourin nearby. When you announced the farewell tour, my friend Juno and I drove to Richmond to hear y’all play from outside the stadium. She’s still got a picture of us from that night somewhere, all geared out, tryin to look cool enough to be there.”

“You’ll have to let me see it, so I can determine if you pass muster.” Mr. Cold teases. 

“I ask if she can send me it. Christ, I remember bein’ so fuckin bummed when y’all announced The Cryptids were disbanding, then so fuckin relieved when you said you were gonna keep makin new stuff and performin just as Indrid Cold. Your voice is fuckin amazin.”

“That’s not always the word used.”

“So you don’t sound like Bruno Mars or some pop diva, big fuckin’ deal. You sing and people listen because they ain’t ever heard anyone like you. No one in the world sounds like Indrid Cold.”

The singer gives him an odd smile, “that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Sorry, guess there’s still some fanboy hidin’ out under the roadie.” His cheeks heat up as he finishes his drink.

“I think we should both get some rest.” Mr. Cold stands, ushering him to the door, “and that we should talk again sometime. And thank you again, Duck, for your happy accident.”

‘You’re welcome, Mr. Cold.”

A famous smile that’s never stopped being weirdly captivating, “please, call me Indrid.”

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

“You sure Indrid wants me on the bus and not just to, I dunno, load it?”

“Yes indeed.” Ned, Indrid’s publicity man, gestures grandly to the open door of the tour bus, “now kindly get yourself and your bag on it so we can get a move on.”

Duck climbs aboard, awkwardly sets his bag on the carrier shelf as he nods hello to Boyd, Indrid’s driver and part time bodyguard. 

Indrid is lounging on a black couch, but sits up when he sees Duck, “ah good, you decided to join me.”

“Yep. Uh, did you ask me for a reason or?”

“I like talking with you.” Indrid cocks his head, as if puzzled by the question. Duck wants to point out that the a god of the alt scene, a musical genius, who could have anyone he wanted for company, seeming to be excited by hanging out with a roadie is a bit confusing.

Indrid, meanwhile, is shoving drawings and notes aside so Duck can sit down, “mind you, I don’t expect you entertain me or something; I’m working on some poster art right now, for that fundraiser, so if you have things you like to do on the road, you’re welcome to do them. My room is that way if you want to nap, and it has a t.v as well if you want to watch something. Oh, and we have wi-fi, of course.”

He sounds like a college kid showing off his first apartment and it wrong-foots Duck enough that he just grabs his book from the pocket of his bag.

“Thanks, uh, think I’ll read for a bit.”

Indrid grins, goes back to his drawing, pen scratching hurriedly as the bus jolts to a start and pulls onto the road. 

After awhile, Indrid glances at him and asks mildly, “what was your favorite album? Of The Cryptids, I mean, not my solo stuff.”

Duck taps the spine of the book against the table as he thinks, “I mean The Cryptids  has that whole edge by bein’ the first, because there was nothin like hearin’ your sound for the first time. But I gotta say...Unsolved. Whole thing is fuckin amazin, but your vocals on “To a Flame” still give me fuckin chills.”

“I haven’t played that song in a long time.” Indrid says softly, smiling, “it was always a favorite. I wrote it about someone I could never have.”

“You can feel it. In, uh, in the way it’s arranged, the way you sing, gives this whole feelin of someone who’s decided to love someone completely even though they’ll never be loved back.”

Indrid looks at him a moment, that same odd, small smile quirking his lips, then returns to his drawing. When the road gets bumpier, they move to a couch in the middle of the bus with a low table nearby. Duck pulls out his laptop and plugs in his headphones, pulls up Planet Earth as Indrid’s head starts drooping. Two episodes in, the singer falls asleep, flopping sideways so his head is in Duck’s lap. 

He should move him, Indrid will probably think this is weird when he wakes up. Then again, he looks so cute like this. And it’d be rude to wake him up. 

Duck’s to the episode on jungles when a slender, tan hand reaches up and plucks his left earbud out. Startled, he looks down to find Indrid putting it on and adjusting his head in Duck’s lap, clearly engrossed in the carnivorous plants onscreen.

“Do you want me to just turn the normal sound on?”

“No” Indrid murmurs sleepily, “this is perfect.”

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

Duck assumes the bus will be a one-time event, but he’s ridden with Indrid each time since. Which is why, when his phone dings, Indrid is sitting right beside him. 

“Looks like Juno found the, uh, the photo.”

“Let me see” Indrid grabs the phone from him, cackling with delight when he sees the image, “you two were really the pair of cryptozoologists, weren’t you?”

“Told you we were tryin too hard.”

“On the contrary, I love it, it’s exactly the kind of weirdness we wanted to inspire in people. And if seems you did like to collect our merch, that shirt you’re wearing was a limited run.”

“I know. I, uh, I saved up for it, way I always did if something had art of yours on it.” He slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the admission.

“That’s very sweet.” Indrid smiles at him, then lifts his glasses for a better look, “what does the collar you’re wearing say?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t remember, got, uh, got amnesia, collar specific amnesia, fuck, uh-”

“C, O, L...you were wearing a collar with my name on it.” Indrid’s grin takes on a hungry edge, “someone was downplaying whose fanboy he was.”

“I, I didn’t want you thinkin I was creepy, or that I was just bein nice to you because of the crush I had on you in college.”

“I don’t, I promise, though I appreciate the consideration. Here” he hands the phone back, but as Duck takes it he leans in and whispers, “but you really should wear a collar more often.”

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

“Sooooo how’s it going with Indrid?” Aubrey, Indrid’s magician opening act, sits down next to Duck at dinner.

“Good. Wait, shit, are people talkin about us?”

“Kinda? I mean, Indrid hangs out with the band, and with me, plenty, but none of us get to be on that bus. Not like I’m complaining, Dani and I have our own sweet ride.”

“There ain’t anythin goin on between us. It just...Indrid seem like he likes bein’ friends with me.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah” Duck sighs, wistfully, “y’know, it’s funny. Even after I started workin here, he was still Indrid Cold in my head, the guy who sang like he was diggin down in my head, who did wild shit like kiss his male bandmates on stage, who was always so fuckin cool. And now he’s Indrid, this guy who’s kinda awkward and wears way more pink than I assumed and flaps his hands when gets excited and somehow that’s even better.”

“Awww, someone has a cruuUUshh.”

“Had, Aubrey. Had.”

“Whatever you say, Duck” she winks at him, “whatever you say.”

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

“Are these yours?”

Duck shakes himself awake. They’ve been driving all evening and well into the night, and he must have nodded off and knocked his notebook over. Which is why Indrid is now holding several sheets of loose paper.

“Shit! I mean, uh, yeah, but they ain’t anythin special.”

“I didn’t know you wrote songs.” Indrid scans the pages with a critical eye.

“Sometimes. Like I said, they ain’t anythin to make a fuss over.” 

Indrid makes a noncommittal noise and picks up a nearby guitar, tuning it, “you can go back to sleep, I’m just going to fiddle about for a bit.”

Duck lays down on the couch, and falls asleep to the sound of Indrid’s hums.

He’s shaken awake two hours later, and is thoroughly confused to find Indrid in tight black pants and silvery shirt, black boots on his feet and a deep green on his lips; that’s his stagewear, not his pajamas.

“Put on your most punk-rock outfit, and make it fast.”

He manages to get an old Cryptids t-shirt on along with black jeans that, if he does say so himself, make his ass look good, and is tugging on his boots when the bus pulls into a dusty parking lot.

“It’s the only goth/gay bar in the county.” Indrid says by way of explanation as he pulls Duck out the door, Boyd following them as Ned stays behind to watch the van (“in case we need to make a hasty retreat”).

“Wait, holy fuck, I always thought that was a myth, that you would stop at random clubs and play.”

“Not in the least, though it’s been awhile. Ooh, whoever is already playing sounds very good.” He pushes open the door, the smell of smoke and stale beer and sweat pouring over them in waves as they enter. Indrid keeps to the side of the room, holding Duck’s hand all the while, and spots the tiny merch table with “The Hornets” painted on a yellow sign on the front. 

“Wait for me here.” He kisses Duck’s cheek and disappears into the crowd. When the band finishes the song, a youngish woman waves them over to the side of the stage, strangers in the crowd turning to each other to ask what the fuck is going on.

The guitarist and lead singer reappears, giant H on their shirt,  and grabs the mic, “y’all aren’t gonna believe this, but the Hornets have just acquired a new singer and it’s gonna blow your fucking minds. Give it up for one of the gods of horror-surf, the grinning man, the mothman himself, Indrid fucking Cold!” 

The crowd screams loud enough to shake an entire coat of dust from the walls as Indrid steps on stage, beaming and waving.

“Thank you very much, Hollis. I’ve got four songs for you tonight, including something very, very new. So, without further ado” he grabs the mic, flicks his hair, “let’s prowl.”

The Hornets launch into the opening notes of “on the prowl,” the crowd cheering and hooting and singing along with so much energy that Duck can’t hear Indrid’s voice until the last verse. He claps along with everyone else as Indrid takes the mic of the stand, “and here’s one I haven’t sung in far too long.”

The bass and guitar start in a minor key, half country swing and half horror sting.

“Always on the outs, always in the dark.” Indrid shuts his eyes as he croons, “always so hungry for one little spark. Always so willing to play your game. What can I say? I’m like a moth to flame.”

Duck knows the song by heart but he’s never heard Indrid sing it live, like there was someone in the room he was hoping would hear it and know it was for them. He doesn’t breathe until the song ends; he doesn’t want to miss a single note, miss the way Indrid’s voice curls around the room as if searching for him. 

As the crowd applauds at the end, Indrid crosses to Hollis, who hands him their guitar. He loops it over his shoulder, returns the mic to the stand. 

“Now, this next song is very special, it doesn’t have an arrangement yet, so you’ll have to live with just my melodious voice.” He picks the guitar, brow furrowed in concentration, and Duck gasps. 

He knows this song, he’s just never heard it played anywhere but inside his head. Indrid sings it flawlessly, the crowd swaying in time with him, and Duck realizes he must have practiced nonstop while he was asleep. 

The short song comes to a close and he tilts his head, “what did you think?”

The audience bursts out cheering and Indrid grins, “yes, that’s about how I feel too. I can’t take credit though, it was written by a friend.”

He returns the guitar, nods to the band, and purrs into the mic, “the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

Shit how did he know? Does he know? He can’t know.

He can’t know this is the song Duck used to jack off to. A cover of a cover, a video where Indrid growls and purrs and nearly fucks the mic as he sings. 

“You better duck, when I show up, the goo goo muck” he writhes in time with the music, “I’m a nightmare, honey, looking for some head.”

God, fuck, how could he have forgotten just how Indrid sounds when he sings this, like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you. Indrid is on his knees now, working the front row, dragging his free hand across his body with moans between the words.

“He must really like you, mate.”

“Gahfuck, Boyd.” Duck jumps, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stage.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s never let anyone come to one of these before. I only do because Stern’ll kill us if we let him go without some kind of backup.” Boyd pats his shoulder, heading back towards the door. 

Indrid finishes the song panting, the Hornets looking harried from keeping up with his energy. As the crowd screams and claps he bows, and hurries off the stage. In cries for an encore and the darkened house, Indrid finds him again, grabbing his hand and sprinting outside.

“God I missed doing that!” He laughs as they run, “did you have fun?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, fuck, you really liked my song?”

“Of course. And it seems they did too.” The bus doors close behind them, but Indrid doesn;t stop moving, “we’re both very tired, going to bed now, goodnight!” 

Duck’s about to point out he sleeps on the pullout couch, not the bed, when the bedroom door slams shut and Indrid yanks him into a kiss, tongue in his mouth and hands in his back pockets, groping him with a growl. 

When Indrid breaks the kiss, Duck’s certain he has stars in his eyes. 

“Is this alright?”

“Hell fuckin yeah it is.”

“Good” Indrid shoves him backwards onto the bed, “shirt off.”

Duck obeys, Indrid stripping his own away and tossing it on the ground. As Duck fights with his jeans, Indrid retrieves a condom and something black from a box, setting them on the bed. He notices his struggle and shakes his head as he prowls on top of him, “ah ah, we don’t have time for that.”

“Butmmmmfff” Duck gasps and moans as Indrid kisses him again, demanding and messy.

“Get them low enough for me to fuck you.” He bites Duck’s lip and sits up, wiggling his own black pants down enough to free his cock. By the time he gets them free one leg and down to his knee on the other, Indrid has the condom on.

Indrid tosses away his glasses, gives him a long once over, licking his lips, “good boy.”

Then he’s on top of him again, cock inside him and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh fuck, you’re soaking, god, what got you so wound up, hm?”

“You, just you, watching you, Indrid, god please fuck me.”

“Gladly, goodness, fuck, that’s it sweetheart, you take me so well.” Indrid hammers into him again and again, kissing him each time he whimpers or moans. 

Duck wraps his legs around him, manages to get his head up enough to tease his tongue along Indrid’s nipple. 

“AH! Good boy, mmmm, I knew you’d be perfect to fuck.” He adjusts so he can run his hand up Duck’s throat. There’s no pressure in the gesture, but plenty of possession.

“What do you think, shall we get you a new collar?”

“Yes, yesyesyes, Indrid, god, fuck please.”

“Oh you like that, mmm” he switches to slow, deliberate thrusts, a counterpoint to Duck’s frantically jerking hips that makes them moan in tandem, “we could get you several, would you like that? I could put them on you according to my mood and what I wanted you to be that day.”

Duck means to say yes, whines instead, grinning breathlessly when Indrid strokes his cheek.

“Good. I’d like it, too. Nnnh, god I’m close.” He stops entirely, awkwardly shifts and pulls them until he’s on his knees with Ducks ass in his lap, “but I want you to cum first.”

“I, I can try.”

“It was an order.” He reaches down, revealing the black object from earlier; a vibrating wand.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckFUCK” his legs thrash when the vibe presses against his dick, “Indrid, sugar, ohmyfuckinggod.”

Indrid grins, wide and wanton, and turns the toy up, eyes flicking between Ducks face and cock as he cries out and bucks his hips. 

“What a good boy, getting my cock so wet” he wiggles his hips with a moan, “you feel delightful when I use this on you, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you sit on my cock and do the same thing over and over again, edge myself with the feeling of you needy and tightening around me.”

“Indrid, fuckplease, yes, yes, fuck, I’m so fuckin close darlin, ple-fuck, ‘Drid!” He cums with groan, whole body shaking as pleasure overloads his nerves. 

The vibrator thunks to the floor as Indrid lunges forward, pinning him to the bed and fucking him hard and fast, cock thudding into him in time with his purring groans. 

“So, so good, my Duck, so very good, god, yes, yesyes” he’s moving so violently Duck is now grunting from the force of the impact, “that’s it, good boy, take what I give youAHHnnn, Duck, Duck.” His hips slow as he groans, Duck drinking in the sight of him, orgasmic and loving above him.

Indrid pulls out, condom hitting what is hopefully the trash and not his guitar case, and immediately curls around Duck, kissing his neck and face.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou.”

Duck giggles, kisses him back, “why are you thankin me? I’m the one who just got to fuck a rockstar. You got to fuck some regular dipshit.” He bumps their foreheads together to show he’s teasing. 

“Incorrect. I got to fuck you. You, who are funny and charming and to the point, and who has taught me a remarkable amount about plants.”

“S’important to have hobbies.” Duck mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Indeed. My point is, you make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. And while fucking you has been on my mind has been on my mind lately, it was not actually what I planned to do first. I, ah, I” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, hides his face in his neck, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Hell fuckin yeah.” Duck hugs him tight as he laughs with relief, “Indrid, I wanna be with you, the real you, not the one I had the crush on all those years ago. I wanna make you happy.”

“You do that just by existing, but I have some other ideas as well.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck kisses his nose.

“Well, for starters” Indrid’s eyes gleam as he looks up at him, “how would you like to write some music with me, boyfriend?”

“I think that sounds fuckin amazin. Boyfriend.”

[magicdepressive-blog]

Meet The Harveys

NWI native and Chicago resident Charlie Evans wants to introduce you to his one man band The Harveys, whose debut album, after over a year in the making, is nearing the completion stage. As Evans labors through the finishing touches of the LP and prepares it for public release, he sits down with me to talk about the project and tells us what we can expect from his esoteric alter-ego.

HW: You're getting ready to release your first LP; a collection of songs you're putting out under the name The Harveys. But essentially The Harveys is just you. What made you decide to release music as a fictional collective rather than under your own name?

CE: The Harveys isn't a real band right now, so the idea that it can be locked into only one thing doesn't appeal to me since I don't have to fight other people to have it be whatever it needs to be. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of existing as a solo act. I feel like the idea of the Harveys started as a crutch of being afraid to do this on my own. For whatever reason, the idea of having a fictional band made it seem like a more viable project in my head, and more approachable as something to present out to the world.

HW: But you're not literally the only player on the record. Who else appears on the album, and in what capacity?

CE:  One song is an old one that was written as a group by Patrick Biancardi, Sam Evans, and myself....

HW: Right...that's Werewolf Teacher, isn't it? That's a great song and I remember you telling me that it has its origins in your time as a member of (now defunct Region band) Greenstone.

CE: Greenstone was a great time as a band, and helped form a lot of the stuff that I wrote and created on this album. When I began working on recording I wanted to get an old song down that we had never had the chance to properly record. It was a great point to learn how to use recording software and to test the viability of the fictional band project. A lot of the music I wrote afterwards feels similar in some ways to what we were working on with that project, but definitely is a different animal. Not writing in collaboration with other people or having to compromise things is both a blessing and a curse.

HW: Who are some of the other people who pitched in to help make this LP?

CE: Alex Akers contributed trumpet to I Sit Differently at the Piano. I met Alex while I was working for New Oberpfalz brewery, and we struck up conversation pretty naturally. I had completed about half of the the track, adding in the vocal snippet and guitar, but I felt that guitar all the way through would be frankly boring. I basically asked Alex if he wanted to add trumpet to a weird track that I had made and sent it over. About a week later he sent me his layered tracks and it was amazing! My primary instrument is the electric guitar, so it's always really awesome to work with other instrumentalists that can bring a completely different feel to a track. That song wouldn't work without Alex's contribution. Jake Egli plays the keyboards on The Somnambulist and helped me mix and master the record along with production work.

I'm definitely open to the idea of adding a more collaborative element to The Harveys. I would love to be able to flesh it out into a full band setting. I think a lot of these songs would translate pretty well to a live setting, and there's lots of song ideas in reserve. There's always ego involved in adding other people to a band, but I enjoy the collaborative aspect of writing music a lot. Sometimes it's okay to come in with an idea and see how it gets morphed into something completely new, original, and different that way.

HW: Having grown up as an aspiring musician in NWI and now living in Chicago, can you compare the two locales where musical heritage is concerned?

CE: I would say that both have a lot in common with each other, with Chicago getting the edge of diversity simply through pure numbers. Not unlike most other suburbs of Chicago, NWI filters a lot of its musical identity from Chicago, which I think is great. The Chicagoland area has an abundance of amazing music that doesn't always get the attention it deserves on the national stage.

HW: You recorded this LP at home on your computer. Were there any technical limitations that you encountered while making the record that, had you been in a studio, you might not have had to deal with?

CE: I think the biggest hurdle for doing all recording on my own is that my ear wasn't as trained, especially in the beginning, at what was good and what was bad. I improved rapidly, but especially early on I think that having a 2nd set of ears to hear everything is very helpful.

HW: Why did you decide to release a physical LP and how do you plan to market it? What streaming formats will you be utilizing?

CE: I love the idea and the ritual of vinyl...placing the vinyl on the turntable, setting it to the right speed, and letting the needle hit the record. There’s an art to creating a track list and an album that flows correctly from side to side. I think the best records still work with that duality; breaking it down into two shorter playlists and making sure those statements stand on their own and complement each other. That being said, I think the songs stand on their own, so I don’t mind pushing it to streaming as well where the majority of people (myself included) discover their music. I’m planning on releasing The Harveys on all major streaming services. The LP version of the album will be funded through a Kickstarter.

What I like about the idea of a vinyl release and giving yourself those limitations is that it really forces you to look at how songs flow as a cohesive unit. Balancing the amount of time you can put on a side along with making sure that each track is keeping the listener along for the ride is so important. Additionally, the 2 side nature of vinyl makes you look at it as a mini suite for each side. My process was mostly trying to balance all of these things to make the strongest single unit of an album. Sifting through all the songs I had written to put together what I feel is a cohesive album was a bit difficult at first, there’s definitely enough material left off to have an extra EP in the future or work towards another album. For me, I think the unifying threads that make this album stand as a whole are some of the themes touched on like growing up and the somewhat lonely existence that adulthood can be. There’s plenty of humor on the record, though, as well, which I feel is always needed. I don’t trust people who are too serious about everything. There's a lot of genre exploration that I wasn't able to make work cohesively on this record that could definitely fit in better on a slightly different project. I would love to create a great medley style suite, ala Abbey Road. I'd love to do something soaring, epic, and heartfelt like that.

HW: There are very few recording artists who so confidently pull off such a varied palette as what you've proven capable of on this LP; some that come to mind as exceptions are Ween and Captain Beefheart and Zappa and Guided By Voices. Were any of those artists a lighthouse for you while you were crafting these songs?

CE: All those bands and artists are huge influences, Ween in particular. Reading and getting into Ween was a huge part of what made me finally get off my butt and start making music again. The independent spirit that drove each of these artists to create despite not necessarily having the big push of a label was a huge inspiration. Learning about Ween using a drum machine and writing silly songs and just generally not caring what other people thought of them was a liberating idea, and also made my excuses for why I wasn’t doing anything seem like just that: excuses.

HW: Speaking of tracks that DIDN'T make the record, Feed Me, Human is one of your standout songs and I feel like it exists in a world of its own stylistically; some kind of avant garde heavy metal oddity...definitely something I haven't heard before. Is metal a big part of your musical tastes, and if so what can you tell me about this track? It sort of skirts a strange territory that's both playful and sinister.

CE: I love metal! Metal as a genre is so tongue in cheek, and I love that about it. I never trust any metal band that takes themselves 100% seriously. I remember reading a story that Adam Jones from Tool told about how when he met Buzz Osbourne from the Melvins he told him that Boris was his favorite song and was a foundation for a lot of how he built his songwriting and sound, and Buzz responded something along the lines of, "Thanks, it's about my cat." Metal is so great because it can occupy both territories of sinister and silly.

HW: Let's focus on what did make the album. Metropolitan Malaise is unabashed power pop exuberance; Hydration is Key is a blissed out, psychedelic signal from another galaxy. You cover Big Star's 1972 acoustic masterpiece 13, and then there's the aforementioned I Sit Differently at the Piano; four minutes of Badalementi-esque guitar and trumpet noodling atop which sits a bizarre sampling of an interview with a mental patient from the early 60s. The Funkalator struts and swaggers with ballsy, bell bottomed moxie, and Werewolf Teacher is textbook singer-songwriter gold. And that's just HALF the album. But maybe the standout track here is The Somnambulist, a disarming number that begins with a tribal, measured acoustic bounce before exploding into a veritable roman candle of life-affirming guitar-fueled adrenaline.

CE: I'm particularly proud of The Somnambulist. It has the most overdubs of any track, and took me the longest to assemble out of any of them. I'm particularly proud of my vocal performance, which incubated in my head for a pretty long time, and took even longer to build up the ability to properly sing. It's the classic rock track I always wanted to write.

HW: What's your writing process like? What do you find is the most challenging part of the formula?

CE: Wake up, make some coffee pick up my guitar and start playing something...pulling up Garageband and a virtual drummer and see if I can get anything useful out of it. Record it, and see if there’s enough there to develop. Sometimes there's something good there for a full song, sometimes there isn't. I built a lot of songs on the fly, and would do multiple takes of things to see what worked or didn’t work. Having a good feedback network of people to send songs to certainly helped as well to guide the directions that were working and not working in the music. I think the most challenging thing for me with this project was not really working with other musicians to create. If I wanted to finish the song, it was on me!  

HW: I really appreciate you taking the time to offer a little insight into what we can expect from The Harveys. I really think you've assembled a great collection of songs and I'm really looking forward to the vinyl.

CE: I think the biggest thing I’m hoping to offer is a bit of a blast of nostalgia that isn’t hopefully too derivative. Power pop and dad rock have reached the level of being uncool, but I still love making it. I’m hoping that I can bring some uncool music to people and hopefully get them to dig into the same things I love too.  I was talking with Jake while we were mixing and mastering and we both said waiting for lightning to strike will involve you mostly waiting. It’ll happen, and does happen, but you have to work at it no matter what.

-End-

The debut LP from The Harveys will be available soon pending a Kickstarter. Please stay tuned to Charlie's Facebook page for more info and show your support for this gifted musician. You can stream the unmixed demo of Metropolitan Malaise on Bandcamp here:

https://theharveysarentreal.bandcamp.com/track/metropolitan-malaise

Album art by Grace Calderone, 2019. Bar photos by Harvey Woodlawn, 2018.

[sockablock]

Something New for Me and You

• (start) (AO3) (prev) (next) • 

Chapter 3: Winter Air in the Library

Today 3:27 AM

Molly Tealeaf: hey there! Molly Tealeaf: i got your number from the movie chat haha Molly Tealeaf: i just wanted to let you know how much fun I had tonight! Molly Tealeaf: you have an excellent singing voice Molly Tealeaf: and we should absolutely do this again ‘(~˘▾˘)’~ Molly Tealeaf: and maybe im being forward but if you ever want to talk about what happened w the electricity? Molly Tealeaf: also I still need to give you that jacket back, don’t i Molly Tealeaf: anyhow you’re probably asleep now so i’ll talk to you later Molly Tealeaf: good night mister caleb!

•

“My sneakers are still fine,” said Nott as Caleb chewed the end of his expo marker and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “You can cross that one off the list.”

“Are you certain?” he pressed. “They are looking rather tattered, and if I sell the clothes Jester got me then we should be—”

“No way,” Nott frowned, shaking her head. “That was a present! You can’t sell it, what if she asks to see them? Or what if you need to go on another fancy date?”

Caleb scoffed. “I do not think I will be doing that anytime soon,” and then his expression softened. “But you are right. That would be rude to Jester. Fine,” he sighed, and drew a line through ‘new sneakers’ on the whiteboard. “We can see if there is enough money next month.”

“Hey, hey, what about the rings I stole, though?” Nott asked. “Maybe they’ll be worth something this time. Or, if we really need to, we can try running some cons.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “We can go see how the rings sell later, when Bibelots is open. As for trying old tricks, that might have to be a plan C, or even D. I do not really want any undue attention from the law. Better to steal from the shadows.”

She shrugged, and reached across the table to pull Frumpkin into her lap. “Whatever you say, Caleb.”

“Okay,” he said, and scribbled a final number at the bottom of the board. “This should work. If we are careful, in a month, we will have enough electricity to use the television and charge our belongings at home, for sure.”

“Really?” she asked, face brightening. “That’s great! Then we can host movie night, when it’s our turn!”

His triumphant expression turned slightly sheepish. “Yes, spatz, then we can. I take it you know what happened, last night?”

“Yep. I did want to check the TV to make sure, first, but I would’ve said something if Molly hadn’t interrupted—”

Caleb quickly shook his head. “Nein, no, I am…glad that you did not.”

She frowned. “How come?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, er,” he said, “I do not want the others to know that we are struggling, financially.”

“What? Why not?”

He felt wretched as he sighed and said, “I don’t want them to think down on us. We are poor, and they are not. Well, at least we know that Jester and Beau are not—”

“Their apartment was crazy.”

“—and if the Moondrop has such a reputation, I am sure that Fjord and Molly and Yasha are not either. But…but we are, and I am worried that if they found out, they would not want to spend time with us anymore.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she blinked her huge yellow eyes and asked, “Is that why you worked so hard to clean up before, when they came over yesterday?”

He nodded miserably.

There were a few more beats of silence as Nott considered this. Then she nodded firmly and pressed a finger to her lips. “Alright then, Caleb. I won’t say anything. Goblin’s promise. Well, that doesn’t really mean much, I guess. Nott’s promise,” she amended with a faint grin.

He returned the smile and leaned over to ruffle her hair. “Thank you, Nott. I am glad you understand. And hopefully, if nothing goes wrong, we should be fine financially and will not have to worry too much next month.”

She grinned. “Great! And then maybe you could start using your phone too, and you can talk to that purple guy.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and then stood up and reached for his satchel. “For now, though, we have other things to focus on. Like how it is almost time for work. Are you coming along, today?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to hang around the square and see if I can…help our money problems a bit more.”

“Alright,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “be safe. Stay hidden—”

“—and stay alert, yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a professional, remember?”

He chuckled. “How could I forget?”

She gave him a short, poorly-executed salute. “See you later, Caleb! Have fun at the library.”

He shrugged his old coat on, did the buttons up, and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. “See you later, spatz. Have fun in the Square. Come on, Frumpkin.”

And then, after the orange tabby slipped into the hall, he shut the door and headed off to work.

•

Today 10:26PM

Molly Tealeaf: good morning mister caleb! Molly Tealeaf: i hope you slept well, sorry about all those texts last night! Molly Tealeaf: i must’ve had a bit more to drink than i thought Molly Tealeaf: anyways, I just wanted to see if you were free anytime this weekend? Molly Tealeaf: there’s a lovely little coffee shop ive just been dying to try Molly Tealeaf: i think you’d like it

Today 12:14PM

Molly Tealeaf: so if that sounds good, shoot me a text? Molly Tealeaf: ive got a flexible schedule any time before 6 dear

Molly slipped his phone back into his pocket and sagged in the barstool until his forehead hit the countertop. Yasha pulled a cup down from the back shelf and poured him a glass of water.

“I don’t see why I needed to come in so early,” he mumbled, words muffled. “It’s not like I need to practice, really.”

“That’s not a good attitude,” Yasha chided, and slid the drink over. “Gustav made it clear that the 25th anniversary event was important to him, and there are only three days left.”

Molly sighed, and reached blindly for the glass. When his fingers finally made contact, he lifted his head, took a sip, and frowned.

“This isn’t vodka, dear.”

She nodded. “It’s water. It’s noon. You’re hungover.”

Molly scoffed, but took another sip. “I am not hungover,” he protested. “Beau was the only one who got that shitfaced last night.”

“That may be true,” Yasha agreed, “but you are still not in top shape. Desmond did not call a break because he was tired of playing, that is for sure. And the others can tell there is something on your mind. Me included.”

Molly shrugged. “Maybe there is, dear. Or, maybe, I’m just having a bad day.”

“You?” Yasha raised an eyebrow. “I did not know that was possible.”

Molly his tongue out at her. “It happens to the best of us. I would know, because I’m the best of us.”

Yasha sighed. “Is this about Caleb? Is that what this is?”

Molly had a brief flashback to staring at his phone screen at four in the morning, waiting to see if the other man would respond. He shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Not at all.”

Yasha, bless her heart, seemed convinced. “Is it your...abilities? Are they acting up again?”

Molly shook his head much faster this time. “No, no. It’s…it’s really nothing. I promise, I’m in tip-top shape—”

“Good!” grinned Bosun as his large green hand suddenly clapped Molly on the back. The half-orc leaned against the corner of the bar and beamed. “Break’s over now, friend. We’re going again from Toya’s solo. Sound good?”

Molly shot him a cheerful smile. “Sounds wonderful.”

And as they both stood up and walked past, Yasha gave Molly a meaningful, furrowed brow that conveyed just how much she didn’t believe him. He shrugged sheepishly, and followed Bosun back towards the stage with the twirl of an imaginary coat.

•

Nott slipped into a back-alley just on the fringes of the Pentamarket Square, and took a quick swig from her flask. There were plenty of folks out today, morning commuters and shoppers getting a head start on Winter’s Crest gifts. She rubbed her fingers together, and murmured a few quick arcane commands. A small, shimmering hand appeared before her, and then promptly turned invisible. She beamed, and then scaled the dumpster and pulled herself onto a nearby fire escape.

•

Caleb had his nose buried deep between the covers of a particularly promising summary of the history of magical breakthroughs in the Pre-Divergence Era, and almost didn’t notice when Jester dropped her heavy pink bookbag onto the floor and cheerfully plopped her elbows onto the counter, leaning her face annoyingly close to his. He didn’t even blink when she started singing his name and flicking the little metal bell in front of him, and he ignored her as she started insulting him and cursing out his cat, and didn’t even move until she clapped her hands together, muttered the incantation for Thaumaturgy, and made all the doors and windows slam open with a shuddering blast of hellish energy.

Chilly winter air flooded into the library. He looked up, met the raised eyebrow of Jester, and blinked.

“Oh. Good morning, Jester.”

She rolled her eyes, and draped her arms over the counter to try and smack the book out of Caleb’s hands. He pulled away in time, so she rolled onto her back and her upside-down face beamed at him without any hint of annoyance.

“It’s the afternoon, dummy,” she teased. “I finished my classes. I’m here to be tutored.”

Caleb blinked again, and shook his head slightly. “Scheiss, it is already two-thirty?”

She nodded, and flicked him in the nose. “Ah, I knew you were in there somewhere. I sent you like thirty texts, Caleb.”

He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Jester. But you know I do not use my phone.”

She pouted, and shook her head. “Why not though, Caleb! It makes life sooo much easier, what’s even the point of having one if you don’t use it?”

“In case I am going somewhere dangerous, and I need to keep in contact with you all.”

Jester giggled. “Why would you be going somewhere dangerous, silly?” And before he could answer she held up her own phone and waved it around in the air. “Besides, I’m not offended, but how will you be able to talk to Molly now? How are you guys going to coordinate your dates?”

Caleb scowled, but mostly out of embarrassment. “Jester, we are barely friends. We aren’t going on dates. If he needs me, he can always contact Nott.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that? You guys are ‘barely friends,’ like you said. Does he know about the goblin messenger pigeon system you’ve got going on?”

Caleb opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He paused.

“Oh,” he said. “Er...I suppose not.”

Jester huffed dramatically, and tapped him lightly on the arm. “I’ll let Molly know,” she said magnanimously. “In the meantime! I need math help.” She leaned down and rummaged around in her bag until she pulled out a red binder, which she passed to Caleb. “I don’t know what the fuck a vector is,” she said, “but I need to by tomorrow.”

He sighed, and put his book down. “Alright, alright. I’m still technically on shift, though, so pull a chair up here. I can’t leave the front desk.”

As Jester retreated to the copy room—makeshift staff lounge—to fetch a stool, Caleb started rifling through her math notes. They were quite neat, though the margins were completely filled with various doodles, some sketches of her surroundings, and many caricatures of her teachers and fellow students. There were also quite a number of scrawled comments and arrows pointing to various drawings. He sighed again.

“Jester, are you using your math notes to talk to the Traveler?”

There was a pause, and then a thud, and then the sound of Jester harrumphing.

“So what if I am?” she called from the back. “So what? I’ve got to talk to him at some point, and numbers are soooo boring. It’s the only way I’ll even stay awake in class, Caleb.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I understand that, spassvogel, but have you considered that if you did pay attention, you would not have to come ask me for help so often? Sieversii is an excellent institution, and I am sure if you just applied yourself you would do fine. ”

She came through the door, dragging a stool behind her, and shrugged as she brought it next to Caleb’s position at the counter.

“Maybe,” she said, “but then what would be my excuse to come bother you all the time? Besides, the college might be good but our teacher is shit. I don’t know who ever gave Professor Anders his license, but they should be arrested for mistreating children.”

“You are over twenty years old.”

“All the same,” Jester said, and gestured towards her binder. “Anyways, come on! Learning time! Why are there letters in the bracket, and what am I supposed to do with them?”

Caleb picked up a pencil. “These are indicators, that show magnitude and direction,” he explained, drawing a line across the page. “It means that the, the, say a particle, is moving this way…”

•

Nott, crouching behind the rusted iron railing thirty feet away, cast Minor Image over the necklace grasped in her Mage Hand. It immediately transformed into a pigeon with its wings outstretched, and she quickly yanked the Hand into the air and towards her, creating the illusion, more or less, of a bird taking flight. Nobody seemed to notice anything strange, and she grinned brightly when the hefty silver chain fell into her palm.

“I am the best,” she whispered delightedly to herself, and slipped the necklace into her pouch.

•

“No way,” Beau argued, waving her hands passionately through the air. “Kamordah was robbed. That ref had no idea what he was talking about.”

“Elbowing is a foul, Beau,” Fjord sighed, “and if he didn’t call Redleaf out Alfield would’ve stampeded.”

“Aw, bullshit. That was barely an elbow! And Alfield shouldn’t be talking, their record last year was a mess.”

“Yeah, sure, but you know Redleaf has a history—”

They continued arguing as they made they way down the sidewalk, city buildings towering above them and streets slowly coming alive as the evening crowd finished work and started filtering out for the night. The sky above them was just beginning to darken, and a winter chill swept across their red cheeks and damp hair--still dripping slightly from the gym showers. Eventually, they turned the corner and the metropolitan landscape opened up into a grand view of the harbor, where ships docked on the river and, a block away, the Fletching & Moondrop stood proudly beside the gleaming water.

“Is Jester coming by tonight?” Beau asked after they eventually just agreed to disagree and began making their way to the back staircase of the bar.

“I think so,” said Fjord as followed Beau up. “I’m pretty sure she has an exam soon, but she’s been pretty excited to see how the anniversary preparations are coming. I promised her a behind-the-scenes tour,” he added sheepishly.

“We work in Fletch, though,” Beau said as she rifled through her duffel bag for the keys.

“I know, I know, but Jester still wants to see it. I’ll sneak her into the back during break and besides, I think they like me enough.”

“Do you know what’s been planned?” Beau asked. “It sucks that we’ll be working while it’s all going on.”

Fjord shrugged again. “I know there’s some kind of big production, but that’s all Molly’s told me so far. He came home one night in a skintight dress and a feather boa, but that might just’ve been him.”

“I wish the performers would tell us more,” Beau groused. “They’re so cliquey.”

“They spend a lot of time together, I guess. And, honestly, I don’t know if I could handle that kind of life. Molly’s gone all hours of the day, I’m just glad he and Yasha bother to hang out with us.”

Beau pushed the door open and raised an eyebrow at Fjord. “Was that sarcasm?” she asked.

He grinned. “Maybe,” he said, and swung the door shut behind him.

•

“Oh, Mr. Widogast,” said Yorda, the head librarian, just as Caleb was zipping his satchel shut. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Caleb glanced up, and gave her his signature, politely blank expression. “Hello, good afternoon. Is there something we need to discuss?”

She nodded, and Caleb caught the nervous expression in her eyes. His heart sank.

“Is this about my request for more hours?” he asked dejectedly. “I assume you cannot?”

She wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid it’s worse than that. Er...I’m going to have to cut you down to only three days a week.”

Caleb fumbled for his bag, and just managed to grab the strap before it hit the ground. His eyes were wide, and he could feel a number of emotions now wracking his brain. He tried to tamp them down.

“But...but...why?” he asked as calmly as he could. “Why? I am a good worker., I have the best record with correctly sorting books, I...I am a good worker, Miss—”

Yorda gave him a pained expression and shook her head. “I’m sorry dear, I’m sorry. It’s not you, understand? The whole library’s budget was cut, I promise this has nothing to do with your performance. I’d let you run the entire building all day if I could, we just can’t afford it, right now. Adelaine's getting a cut too, and I won’t tell you how my salary’s looking. I’m sorry, dear. I wish I could do something about it, but--”

After that, it was largely a blur. At some point, Caleb had eventually collected his things, excused himself, and walked out the front door. He barely remembered striding quickly through the city streets, barely remembered making it back to his building, must have avoided the creaking floorboards by the stairs so Kosh wouldn’t hear him on instinct, and only really awoke as he crept into his apartment and shut the door and slumped down onto the ground and closed his eyes. He could see the numbers dancing in front of him, dried-out expo marker scrawled on the whiteboard, his perfect calculations to ensuring their financial security now shattered.

He couldn’t be mad at Yorda; she was a nice enough woman seemed genuine about her sympathy. Libraries were never really on the city's radar anyways, that and the books were why he wanted to work there so badly in the first place. But now what? Now what was he supposed to do?

Somewhere in the fog of frustration, he felt Frumpkin crawl into his lap. He gratefully accepted the cat’s soothing purrs, and tried to think of what he could possibly do next.

•

Nott was on top of the world. She already had a jade bracelet and another necklace tucked away in her pouch, and was in the middle of the risky but enthralling process of trying to use two Mage Hands at once to carefully remove a woman’s shiny gold earrings. After that, she’d go home and show Caleb the haul she’d gotten today.

•

Today 7:43PM

Molly Tealeaf: actually now that i think about it i wont be free this saturday Molly Tealeaf: its the 25th of the bar! Molly Tealeaf: tomorrow would be best then i can tell you all about it!

Molly, sprawled across the sofa and glaring intently at his phone, almost didn’t notice as Jester danced into the Moondrop’s break room, followed by an exasperated-looking Fjord. But then she grinned delightedly, and threw herself onto the cushion next to Molly and started giggling.

“Mollymauk! How are you today?”

He looked over, took in the sheepish smile on Fjord’s face, and beamed. “I’m doing wonderfully, dear. What brings you here?”

“I need a full tour and breakdown of Saturday’s performance,” she said, instantly snapping in all-business mode. “Fjord doesn’t know shit.”

“Well, come on, I know some things—”

“Like what?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. “What could you possibly know?”

He floundered for a moment, and then looked down at the ground. “Drinks are 25% off downstairs,” he muttered. “There’s a new DJ.”

Molly laughed, and flung an arm around Jester’s shoulders. “Stick with me, dear. I’ll fill you in. But Fjord isn’t allowed to know. Not because he works downstairs,” Molly added quickly, “but because I just love seeing him like this.” Then he turned towards Fjord and winked. “Tell Beau she’s welcome up here any time, and I’m sure I could rope Yasha into showing her around.”

As the half-orc rolled his eyes, Jester giggled harder and nodded excitedly. “Ooh, I can’t wait! Oh, but first,” she said, quickly tapping Molly on the nose, “I have a message from Caleb. Well, more or less. Basically if you two are going to be friends, you need to know that he never uses his cell. If you need to talk to him, you gotta go through Nott.”

Molly had a brief flashback to the night before, when three feet of narrow-eyed, suspicious green protectiveness had glared up at him from behind scraggly bangs and a tattered brown hoodie. He thought about Caleb. He sighed.

“Alright, alright,” Molly conceded. “No pain no gain, I suppose. Now, a tour! Come on, I know just where to start.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. The costume room.”

•

“What’re you doing back down here so soon?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you and Jester were going to go fuck in the back room?”

Fjord’s ears turned a deep, deep shade of green, and he dejectedly made his way around the bar. “First off all, we weren’t going to do that,” he muttered. “Secondly, Molly stole her. He’s showing her the decorations ‘n whatever now.”

Beau, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, shrugged. “Hey, at least she’s happy, right?”

Fjord sighed, but this did seem to brighten his mood. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, and then gave Beau a sly grin. “Yasha’s up there right now too, by the street level door. Molly says she might give you a tour if you asked nicely. AndI don’t think she goes on break for a while, so if you wanted to sneak up there…?”

Beau’s cheeks colored, and she quickly looked down at the ground. “I...er...nah. Nah, it’s alright. But um...was she wearing that sleeveless shirt?”

Fjord chuckled, and nodded.

“Fuck me running,” sighed Beau, and let her arms uncross. “Damn.”

•

“Caleb, why are you on the floor?” Nott asked as she climbed through the window. Living on the third floor never broke her habit of unconventional entry.

He looked up, and worry instantly spiked through her chest. That glassy-eyed expression usually was a signal that something was wrong. She quickly made her way over, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright? Is...is there anything wrong?”

He nodded, and sighed. “Yorda spoke to me today.”

“...um...alright? What did she say?”

“She cut down my hours. We are now operating on two less days of salary.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she carefully wiggled an arm between his back and the wall, and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay,” she muttered. “We...we’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out and oh, hey!”

She broke away, and yanked her pouch out. “Look at this! Look, I got a bunch of stuff today, and it might even be real! Maybe this will help.”

Caleb, who had untensed slightly after her embrace, managed a small smile. “That’s very good, spatz. I am sure they will help quite a bit, we can go see Oglen tomorrow.”

“Great!” beamed Nott with relief. “I can—”

Her phone buzzed. She frowned, and pulled it out.

Today 8:19PM

Molly Tealeaf: hello there Nott

She blinked, and rubbed at her eyes. Maybe the cold air of the apartment was messing with her vision. When she looked back down at the screen, she frowned. It was Molly.

Nott TB: what do you want

There was a brief pause, and the “...” icon let Nott know her response had the desired effect.

Molly Tealeaf: straight to the point i see alright Molly Tealeaf: i was told that if i need to contact caleb you are the person to go to Molly Tealeaf: actually apparently via phone you are the only person to go to

She smirked slightly at that. Next to her, Caleb peered over her shoulder at the tiny screen.

Nott TB: you are correct why do you need him

There was another pause.

Molly Tealeaf: id like to arrange a meeting with him Molly Tealeaf: i need to give that coat back Molly Tealeaf: and i want to treat him to coffee tomorrow to thank him for letting me borrow it

She rolled her eyes, and Caleb spoke.

“Who is that? What are they saying?”

Nott passed her cell over. “It’s Molly. He wants to meet up tomorrow and return your coat and buy you coffee.”

Caleb blinked. There was something stirring at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t entirely pinpoint what it was. “He wants to return my coat and buy me coffee?”

Nott shrugged. “I guess.” And then she brightened and said, “Hey, you should go! You need to relax, I bet, and you love coffee. And free things. And that coat was a present from Jester. She’d be sad if you didn’t get it.”

Caleb rubbed his chin. He glanced down at the phone, and handed it back to Nott. “Al...alright, I suppose. I guess I would not have had anything to do tomorrow anyway.”

“Great!” Nott said. “I’ll let him know.”

Caleb nodded. “Do that, please. I will...um...I will go sort out my closet, now. Excuse me.”

And then he got up, and walked into the bedroom. Nott heard the curtain that divided the room in two slide shut.

She looked back at her phone.

Molly Tealeaf: please tell me you aren’t ignoring me Molly Tealeaf: do you hate me Molly Tealeaf: nott please if anything just let me swing by and get the coat Molly Tealeaf: nott please

She sighed.

Nott TB: he’s in Nott TB: if the coffee place is far he’ll need a ride Nott TB: im watching you mister Molly Tealeaf: uh Molly Tealeaf: thank you Nott TB: dont mention it pick a time tomorrow bye

And before Molly could type out a response, she grinned smugly to herself, put the phone away, and skipped off to bed.

[thirstyfortom]

Ahhh! I've been looking for a blog with open requests thank you thank you! Can I have RFA +Saeran walking in on MC playing an instrument like really well? Like she'd been hiding it but they Caught her? Thank you! I would love you 5ever lololol

Maybe this isn’t as fluffy as you wanted, I tried to give MC some motivation for not wanting to play, and some of them are kinda sad, but I hope you still enjoy this!

RFA + Saeran reacting to MC playing an instrument really well

Zen

You told him you used to play violin as a kid, but never showed him, alleging you were rusty

It was one of his rehearsals on stage, you were watching this in your seat

When there was a problem with the sound system, the pre-recorded soundtrack from one of the song wasn’t working

He immediately looks at you and tells somebody in the staff to get a violin asap

“Come on, babe! You’ve got this!” “Zen, it’s been too long! It will sound awful!” “So my melodic and soothing voice will muffle any bad sounds. Please? I just need something to set the mood for my solo!”

How can you say ‘no’ to his pleading eyes? You agree hesitatingly. The staff guy hands you a violin.

Zen starts to sing as you gently move the bow on the violin’s chords. It starts a little rough, but you get used to it pretty quickly.

Everybody is staring at you, and Zen stops singing to watch you. Shit! Is it that bad? You stop immediately, puzzled.

“Babe, it’s wonderful!” he hugs you, and all the staff go “awwwww”.

Now he never rehearses his songs without your violin soundtrack.

Yoosung

You showed him photos of when you used to be on marching band at school

Yeah, he always wondered why there was a big tuba hidden on your closet, he never thought you actually played it, this thing seems so big for you

He begs you to play a little for him, you refuse telling how long has it been, you probably don’t even know how to do this anymore.

So he takes the tuba and tries to blow, it’s so cute because he’s so red and it can’t even make a sound.

He tries and tries, but bless his heart, he’ll pass out due to lack of oxygenation on the brain if he keeps going with this.

So you gently take the tuba and give him a few tips about how to properly breathe and how to place your lips correctly, showing him to do it in the process.

Then you realize you’re actually playing the tuba, and he’s watching you with all the attention in the world.

Did he just trick you to play to him? Oh, behind that cute face, there’s a mischievous brain…

“Oh, I think I got it, MC. Let me try again!” Nah, not really, he really just wanted to learn how to play.

He manages to make a very weak sound to come out of the tuba, and you aren’t even able to tease him as how much he’s celebrating to his little improvement.

Jaehee

She notices you have the tendency of drumming your fingers on the table, you always apologize if it’s annoying her

But it’s never annoying, because it sounds really rhythmical, as if you knew exactly how to drum.

She asks you and you shyly explain you used to play drum, actually, you were on a band in high school

You showed the photos and she loves it, you looked really cool back then, she would never say it out loud, but you looked “badass”

She wants to see you play so much, but you brush it off telling your old drum is at your parent’s place and you’re very rusty.

But she keeps begging, and you’re such a sucker when she pleads you just like that. Also, it’s a great excuse to take her to meet your parents lolololol

So there you are in your old room, she can’t hold back a chuckle seeing all the rock band posters, you were so different back then…

But yeah, probably not that different when you hit the drumsticks against each other says: “1… 2… 1, 2, 3, 4!” and start playing.

You even get a little cocky twirling one of the drumsticks in the palm of your hand before hitting the drums. You just really want to impress her.

Your father knocks at the door telling you to shut it down, and you immediately stop, he thinks you’re obeying him, but you just stopped to make out with your girlfriend.

Yeah, nothing much changed since you were a teenager, after all.

Jumin

C & R just bought a record company, the fist artists to sign up are this rock band

Even though he hates it, Jumin is doing PR and meeting the guys, he brought you along to make this bearable

You’re trying so hard not to fangirl, you love this band and are so happy they are making a comeback under your fiancée’s label record!!!

Jumin is bored as shit, but he keeps smiling and posing to the photos with the band.

One of the photographers suggests he should hold the bass, he refuses and passes it to you. “Here, why don’t you do it?” you look at him, puzzled.

You awkwardly take the bass and run your fingers on the chords, it’s been a while… “Do you play?” one of the guys in the band asks.

“She used to.” Jumin answers for you “See how it feels natural on her hands?” you’re blushing hard, it’s too hard to handle this interaction between your fiancée and the guy you used to have this huge crush when you were younger, and they’re talking about you!

The guys keep encouraging you to play a little, and how wouldn’t you do it? All the men you love are expecting this from you! So you play a famous bass line from one of their band’s songs.

The guys are cheering you and Jumin smiles softly. You told him how you had to sell your bass to pay a few bills and how much you missed to play it.

Luckily enough, now you’re earning this bass with the autographs from all the band’s members a a gift. Jumin can’t hold back his own smile seeing you so happy.

But his smile fades away as the guys get too excited about you, telling they want to take you on tour and everybody would pay attention to a bass player like you.

You smile politely, step away a little and hold Jumin’s hand. He’s not the rock star of your teenage dreams, he’s just… something even better. And you’re more into private jam sessions right now, with just you fiancée as your audience.

Saeyoung

Due to the background check, he is pretty aware of your passion for jazz and how you used to play the sax when you were a teenager.

He didn’t find any videos of you playing, though. What a shame…

But he knows you keep a sax on your closet, and he’s dying to watch you perform a little to him.

You are not sure what you’re looking at when he invites you to come over. He’s wearing a black beret, round shaped glasses, a black turtleneck sweater and black pants.

“MC, I would be so glad if we could inspire each other. I wrote this spoken word piece, would you play a little?”

“Saeyoung, it’s been so long.” “Oh, but what is time, MC? If nothing but this old man holding his pocket watch, watching us through his thick lens of despair, despairing at how much time he lost without living the fullest…” he talks dramatically, doing some contemporary dance moves with his arms.

Yeah, you have nothing to say, better put your lips on the sax’s mouthpiece and go along with whatever he’s trying to do.

As he keeps reciting something about space cats and salty and sweet flavors of HBC and Dr. Pepper dancing in his mouth, you just focus on playing the sax.

Why did you ever stop doing this? Yeah, maybe you couldn’t be a pro as you wished, but playing just for fun is awesome too, you shouldn’t have been so hard on yourself.

Saeyoung apparently agrees, as he’s watching you, mesmerized. He even stopped reciting his great poem just to listen to you and be transported to New Orleans, circa 1922.

When you finish, he’s applauding you. This will definitely be the main subject on his next poem.

Saeran

He also has a background check of you, and he knows you play piano! He even managed to get some videos of you doing recitals as a kid and as a teenager.

He lost count of how many times he watched those, and every single time, he whispered to himself: “So… fucking… cute!”

He would love to watch you live, but how could he manage to get a piano?

You’re organizing a RFA party, the first one since he officially joined the organization, he doesn’t care about anything , he just wants a piano at the party.

As the party is happening, you keep watching the piano player, Saeran notices and observes your fascinated face, you look like you’re on a trance.

“You alright?” “Yeah, sure, it’s just… I used to play piano to my sister when she was alive. I… didn’t feel like playing when she left. Is this silly?” oh… now he feels like an asshole, this piano is giving you bad memories!

“No, It’s not silly, I guess…” “Yeah… so hey, let’s get back to work!” and then everything felt wrong about that piano there. Shit, what was he thinking? He really thought you would just see the piano and feel this urge to play it? Stupid! That’s what he gets from daydreaming so much about you.

When the party is over, you two are working on make sure everything turned out as planned. He sees the empty room, and the piano there… ugh, he feels sick! And he can’t even look at you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” “I’m sorry about the piano thing, okay? I thought you would like to play as soon as you would see it, I didn’t know, I…” “Hey, it’s fine! Don’t worry!”

You chuckle “That’s why you were so insistent on the piano?” he’s blushing. And he’s even redder when you sit on the bench. “Any requests from the audience?”

“Hey! You don’t need to do this for me! Come on!” “Nah, I want to, it’s been a while I don’t play to someone who’s so willing to listen. So… got any request?”

He loves everything you play, and he catches himself sitting beside you, completely hypnotized by your focused eyes and your agile fingers.

But what he really likes is when you teach him to play a few notes of “Three Blind Mice”. Your sister always smiled when you played this one, it was almost like the smile you’re receiving right now from him. Turning bad memories into good ones is so overwhelming.

[checkmate-cherik]

HEY so you know that Charles Has A Cooking Show AU wELL it got very out of control and now there’s more.

“Hello. I’m sorry I didn’t post a video last week, I was at a funeral.”

Erik froze, and stared at the screen.

He’d barely looked at the title of the video, too excited by the fact that Charles had finally posted, and now he looked again. The title was An Apology.

Charles was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and bagged, and his smile was weak and forced. His clothing, normally so neatly pressed, was rumpled. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it. He seemed to have filmed the newest video on a laptop camera, which did nothing but make him look blurry and paler than he already was.

“A family member died rather suddenly,” Charles was saying. “I… I took a couple weeks off from the internet. And no, it’s not Raven, she’s fine.” The smile began to fade. Then a blip, a cut, and Charles was smiling again, though he looked perilously close to tears. “I’ll have another video soon,” he promised, and swallowed hard. “Just… I need a little time. Thank you. I’m sorry. Good bye.”

And the video ended.

Erik sat there, stunned. Over two hundred videos, six announcements of sad things, and he’d never seen Charles even close to that level of fucked up. It must have been someone very close. A parent? Another sibling? What kind of death would cause a man to take two whole weeks off?

He scrolled down to the comments. It was quite a lot of well-wishing and sympathizing, and a few scattered comments about how he looked hot even in grief, as if that would be any consolation. Erik went through and down-voted all of them, and clicked especially hard on the comment that said you deserve it, filthy mutant.

After a moment, Erik gave in to temptation, and began a comment-war.

It absorbed three hours of his afternoon, but he did win. He smiled grimly as his notifications ceased.

Then a new comment appeared, by ProfessorXavier himself: Please refrain from comment-wars on my videos, thank you.

Erik wanted to reply that he’d been protecting his honor, that he’d been putting the human scum in their place, that it was all for Charles--but he didn’t say that. He simply typed ProfessorXavier chocolate chip cookies recipe in the search bar and rewatched the video for the eight hundredth time. This was his most soothing video, for Erik at least. He loved this recipe, and Charles’ voice was so calm and gentle, his movements slow and careful. Erik saw in the comments people talking about how this was a good “ASMR” video, but since he didn’t know what ASMR was, he didn’t care.

The sadness in Charles’ eyes during that apology video…

Erik frowned and shook his head, and abruptly stood, pausing the video right on a smile. He stared for a moment, then left the office and poured himself a drink, brooding in the kitchen.

His cellphone rang. He sighed heavily and answered. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Wanda.”

Oh, shit.

“On my way,” Erik promised, hurrying to the coat closet. “I was--finishing some work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wanda sounded both amused and long-suffering. “Look, if you’re gonna moon over someone, shouldn’t you choose one you have a chance with?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, shoving his foot in his shoe.

“Riiight. See you soon, dad!”

Erik scowled and tucked his phone in his pocket as he pulled on a jacket. It was only when he was in the car that he realized he was wearing all black. He grimaced, but there was no time to change. He’d just have to deal with the inevitable “who died?” jokes.

He was at the concert hall with minutes to spare, and located Peter and Wanda by the bracelets he’d made for them. It had taken him days, and they were both a bit sloppy, but they had a special resonance which meant he could find them unerringly in any crowd.

He saw them first, and was plowing through the crowd when one pimply young man jeered, “Hey, who’s funeral is it?”

Erik met his eyes and said, “I haven’t decided yet.” Then he kept walking, leaving the boy and his friends shaken.

Peter and Wanda didn’t do too well with crowds. Peter whined that everyone was too slow and there wasn’t space to move, and Wanda said that they made her want to use her powers to make people move out of her way. Erik hated crowds because he could not stand the idea of being touched by anyone but his children. Or Magda. But Magda was long gone and he should stop clinging to her ghost.

But his children were standing by the wall, complaining together, and brightened when they saw him. He relaxed and smiled back, because these were his little ones and he loved them. People saw his smile and scurried out of his way. Well, they were silly, then; just because his smile showed all his sharp teeth didn’t mean he was the type to go around biting.

“Dad!” Wanda fought through the crowd and hugged him; Peter waited until they had escaped the crush to also hug Erik, though he did so quickly. “We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Fairly sure I broke several traffic laws, but no one caught me,” Erik replied, putting one hand on Peter’s shoulder and the other on Wanda’s. “When does the show start? In two minutes?”

Peter and Wanda gave him identical Looks of equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Five, you time-challenged old man,” Wanda retorted. “Which means you better go find Aunt Mindy before some creep sits by her.”

Erik sighed but nodded, kissed them both on the cheek (which made Peter wrinkle his nose in distaste), and went to find his seat.

There was, indeed, a creepy man trying to talk to Mindy, Magda’s best friend and caretaker of the children (she’d been very angry at Erik’s poor parenting, and demanded to take them in, so while Erik was still legal guardian, they lived with Mindy). Erik tapped the creepy man on the shoulder, and when he looked up, scowling, Erik said, “Excuse me, but this happens to be my seat.”

“She said no one was sitting here!”

Erik looked to Mindy. She pressed her lips together, but nodded reluctantly. Then she said, “But I didn’t think you’d come.”

Erik ignored the faint pang of hurt and anger. Not come to his children’s concert? Why would he do that? Then again, she’d never trusted him to do anything vaguely parent-like. “Well, I did. May I sit here?”

“Yes,” Mindy said.

“But--” Creepy Man spluttered, but Erik stared at him until he stood and shuffled past Erik, letting him take the seat. Mindy looked grudgingly impressed. Erik made sure to leave her the arm rest.

In four minutes exactly, the orchestra gathered on stage. There was polite applause, then the first strains of music began.

Wanda was first chair violin, and Peter was on drums. Music was good for them, helped them learned finesse. And even if this was the high school concert and therefore there were mistakes, Wanda’s solo was beautiful, and Peter managed not to go too fast. Erik relaxed, taking in the music, and also the hum of metal. There was a second orchestra beneath the first, as metal fixtures and strings and instruments vibrated to his special senses. Some was in recognition of his presence, like a cat with a human they liked; most was in reaction to the way they were being used.

Mmm, lovely…

Sometimes Erik was called a music snob because he prefered live orchestral music. All of time, he didn’t give a damn. He was probably single-handedly supporting the local orchestra with his monthly donations, as well as buying a ticket to each performance. He’d worked it out early on; buying a ticket for each was more money to them than buying a pass. And he wanted to support them, not just because they made good music, but because Wanda wanted to join them when she and Peter graduated in a few months. Erik wanted them to exist so his baby girl could make music with them.

Peter didn’t know what he wanted to do. Erik didn’t know how to help. He settled for promising to rent the school track after graduation for Peter and his mutant buddies to have full reign of for once.

Strange, how Erik had gone from a penniless immigrant with barely any English to a powerful figure in Shaw Unlimited.

But the music, focus on the music. Erik’s eyes drifted half-closed, and a small smile curved his lips.

“You are terrifying, you know that?” Mindy muttered.

“Hush, please,” he murmured, feeling the vibration of metal in his soul.

At the end of the concert, he clapped with everyone else, and stood with everyone else, and resigned himself to shuffling out like everyone else. Oh, he could easily move people out of his way, or hover over them, but he didn’t want to start a stampede or have someone call the cops. That would just be irritating. So he settled for leading the way outside, knowing Mindy was following in his wake. Erik wasn’t broad, but he was still tall and, he was told, exuded a sort of powerfulness and a “get the fuck out of my way” vibe. Maybe the fact that he was in all black was useful here.

Peter and Wanda found them, and first they went to Mindy’s car to fetch the kids’ bags, then went to Erik’s to tuck it all in the trunk. It was going to be a quiet weekend, though Erik had promised a trip to the zoo so they could finish their reports on animal cruelty and various laws impacting how zoos treated their residents. Erik hoped the twins wouldn’t tease him too much for being unable to cook anymore without the soothing voice of Charles Xavier in the background.

They said their goodbyes to Mindy, who hugged all three of them (Erik was very surprised to receive a quick embrace) and hopped in her Corolla. Erik shook his head slightly and slid into the driver’s seat of his own car, reflexively glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the twins were buckled. They caught him looking and rolled their eyes as one.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Peter reminded him.

“I know,” Erik replied, pulling out of the parking lot.

They arrived at his apartment and the twins dropped their bags in the guest room (which was really the master bedroom, but Erik had made it into their room for when they visited) before wandering to the kitchen and watching him start dinner.

“No Pretty Professor tonight?” Wanda asked innocently. Peter snorted.

Erik did not glare, but he did gaze sternly at them. “I don’t watch his videos every night,” he admonished stiffly. “Just when I don’t know what to cook.”

“And what are you making?” Peter inquired.

“...scrambled eggs and toast,” Erik answered, and he would forever swear that he did not mutter it sullenly.

His children had the gall to laugh at him.

“Silence!” he snapped, in the tone that usually brought complete silence and servitude. Now it just made the twins stifle their laughter into muffled giggles. He scowled and turned back to the stove, flicking it on and letting the metal bowl full of whisked ingredients pour into the pan. It was an old favorite, eggs with cheese, bacon bits, and a dash of pepper. Magda taught it to him.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yes?” He can never stay angry at his own children, so it came out quite normally.

“Did you know there’s a Professor Xavier coming to the school to give a presentation?” Wanda asked nonchalantly. Peter snickered.

Erik froze, staring at the eggs. “How interesting,” he said, completely neutral.

“It’s for staff, of course, but we could get you in,” Peter added.

“He’s bringing his assistant, Dr. McCoy.”

Dr. McCoy. Hank McCoy? The starry-eyed, tongue-tied young man from Charles’ videos?

“Would you like to go?” Wanda asked sweetly.

Erik turned to them, and even though he meant to say Absolutely not, what came out was “When is it?”