#I PRACTICE FRENCH AND PLAY PIANO WITH MY MOTHER

[snoligostranssexual]

MY NAME IS POET, I AM A PHILIP

I WROTE THIS PHILIP JUST TO PHILIP AND I JUST TURNED NINE YOU CAN WRITE PHILIP BUT YOU CANT WRITE PHILIP *WHAAT* I PRACTICE FRENCH AND PLAY PIANO WITH MY MOTHER *UHUHH!!!* I HAVE A MOTHER BUT I WANT A LITTLE MOTHER *OHOKAY!!!* MY DADDY'S TRYNA START AMERICAS BANK!!! UN QUATRE TROIS DEUX CINQ!!!!!!!! *BRAAVOOOOO* **take a break!**

[kiwi-tmntfan]

my name is poet

i am a philip

and i wrote this philip just to philip

[stinkypeanutbutter]

Silly Headcanons

Ben becomes a super good guitarist. Even though it's not singing, it's similar, and their both music related so ya.

I love headcanoning the crazy peoples to be good at art, so here we go. Aiden is actually good at art, cause he and Ben would draw together to pass time when they were traveling. He feels like it's kinda Ben's thing though, so he doesn't do it too much besides in his room when he is listening to whatever.

Ben is good at semi - realism, and practices by drawing his silly friends.

Taylor and Tyler had a bunch of sibling rivalries when they were younger, specifically with Just Dance.

Speaking of Just Dance, Ashlynn is dope at it, but she don't do it unless she actually feels the motivation too.

Ashlynn is naturally cold, and Aiden is naturally warm. Whats that mean? A nice balance for cuddling lol.

Some as the last one, but with Ben and Taylor.

Aiden likes to blast his music in his room whenever he's alone, helps him think of cool ideas.

(Stealing this from another person who did headcanons, loved them btw) Aiden has a giant assortment of songs in his playlist, entirely mixed. We got some LMFAO, Mother Mother, MSI, Lady Gaga, Lemon Demon, Miley Cirus, IDKHBTFM, idk whatever you can think of lol.

Taylor and Tyler have a shared playlist cause they actually have pretty similar tastes in music, but they keep skipping songs the other would want to listen too,

Aiden is TERRIFIED of spiders. He'd think they are cool from a distance, just not anywhere near or on him. Also scratch my last idea they are BOTH terrified of spiders and have to call someone to get it out of their room(s) (stealing this idea 😈)

Logan relates in a way, but he's fine with them at least in a cage to his observation.

Logan really liked to do those astronomy projects when he was little, like with macaroni and whatever (idk what yall used)

(taking this from another person who did headcanons, forgot who but they were really good) Taylor enjoys playing the flute, and has played the xylophone for a past class. Tyler likes the drums because it gets his stress out. Aiden plays the violin (his parents wanted him to do something like piano, but he got bored too quickly, and they wouldn't let him near the trumpets or the french horns) Logan got the saxophone (its a little too heavy so he has to set it down every few minutes) Ben got the guitar (ofc) And Ashlynn enjoys the Harp (Not what most expect, but it's easy on the ears)

We're gonna throw the accordion at Logan too for fun (not actually.. unless)

Okay that's it. I might do sad ones but we'll see how this goes :-)

[unch4rtedwxters]

DADDY DADDY LOOK *beatboxing intesifies*

MY NAME IS PHILIP

I AM A POET

I WROTE THIS POEM JUST TO SHOW IT

AND I

JUST TURNED NINE

YOU CAN WRITE RHYMES BUT YOU CAN’T WRITE MINE’

WHAT!

I PRACTICE FRENCH AND PLAY PIANO WITH MY MOTHER

I HAVE A SISTER BUT I WANT A LITTLE BROTHER

Okay XD

MY DADDY’S TRYNA START AMERICAS BANK

UN DEUX TROIS QUATRE CINQQQQQ

BRAVO!!

[lilac-ravenclaw]

50 OC Questions

These are questions are from @localravenclaw ‘s post. Thanks so much for reading; I would love to read about other MCs!🪻

1. Describe your OC's physical appearance in detail.

She is both Latina (on her father’s side, he was from South America) and British (on her mother’s side). She has long black hair that is usually in a French braid and draped over her shoulder. It’s very wavy when out of the braid. She has lilac color eyes, honestly I haven’t decided from which parent she got them from. She has tan skin and a tiny freckle high on her left cheek, just below her eye. She is petite and has a hourglass figure. She does have a few light scars on her back. The caretaker at the orphanage would verbally and physically “discipline” the children. Raven would try to step in so none of the littler kids would be hurt. She is self conscious about anyone seeing them.

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

For most RPGs, my character is always named “Raven”, so for HL it wasn’t any different lol. For her last name, honestly, it was an inside joke. I love the 70s show Fawlty Towers, with John Cleese. It only ran for about a dozen episodes but it’s hilarious. It was the first last name I could think of😄

3. How does your OC feel about their birthday?

Her birthday is Jan. 29, 1874, and she only cares about to a bit because her favorite poem, The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, was first published on that day in 1845. She only starts to care more when Sebastian gives her a birthday gift in their sixth year, which are tiny gold snake earrings. It was her first ever birthday gift ever. (Side note: my birthday is also Jan. 29. I tried to think of another day but making her an Aquarius too just felt right ♒️)

4. How does your OC and their parents get along?

Unfortunately, Raven doesn’t know who her family is. She lived at the orphanage as long as she can remember. She won’t go looking for them, as she figures they would’ve already have come back for her at some point. In my story for her, the caretaker gave her the last name “Fawlty”, (and yes misspelling it on purpose) as another way to torment her. Though she keeps the name to prove to others that she isn’t “faulty”.

5. What's something you'd never put your OC through again?

Being alone. She has too many people around her that genuinely cares. Especially with having Sebastian in her life, she will never be alone again.

6. What's your OC's go-to comfort meal?

Breakfast foods. All kinds, pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, and toast. There’s just something about a nice breakfast that makes Raven feel warm and cozy. It’s the simple things in life🍳

7. What career path would your OC take?

Though she feels it’s expected for her to be an Auror, Curse Breaker or working for the Ministry. Ultimately she has a love for music, specifically singing. She does try out for the choir at Hogwarts. The only person who knew was Poppy and she gave Raven the courage needed to try out their sixth year (now that she wasn’t in the middle of stopping a goblin rebellion!). She also knows how to play the piano too, and taught herself to play, however, she doesn’t know how to read sheets of music. 🎼

8. What's something your OC can't do?

Can’t say no to someone who needs help. Since no one was really there for her growing up at the orphanage, she believes that no one should feel helpless no matter the size of the problem. If she can help, she will!

9. What is your OC's ideal romantic partner?

Someone who will stand by her side and love her no matter what. They make her feel like she does belong and won’t be judged. They believe in her and encourage her to do what makes her happy.

10. Does your OC like to spend time alone or with others more?

Honestly, Raven can go either way. She loves spending time with her friends, especially Sebastian, and does prefer her close circle of friends. Though she is content with taking time for herself by either reading a good book, or practicing her music in the Room of Requirement.

11. What time does your OC usually go to sleep?

Depends really, school nights she’ll try to go to sleep at a decent time, if there isn’t too much homework. On weekends or summertime she’ll stay up late with Sebastian or hanging out with other friends.

12. Where in the sibling order is your OC?

Unknown, as far as she’s aware she is an only child.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

Harming the orphanage caretaker. The caretaker was “disciplining” one of the smaller children and accusing them of stealing something from her room. Raven had just about enough of it with her and wished a bookshelf to fly across the room and slam into her. Everything had happened so fast and it took a moment for her to realize that’s exactly what happened. All the other children had looked at her with wide eyes and she quickly grabbed what few possessions she had and ran away. That was a few days before Professor Fig had come to the orphanage to gift Raven her Hogwarts letter. He was able to find her hiding out at a near by in a couple days later.

14. What would it take for your OC to kill someone?

By them hurting someone she loved/cared very dearly about.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

A copper cameo brooch given by Sebastian. It was a Christmas present, and was surrounded by little pearls and had the Ancient Magic symbol engraved in the center. She has worn it everyday since.

16. How does your OC unwind?

Practicing her singing and playing piano. She does want to learn how to read sheet music, but ends up just playing from the heart. Of course reading! Broom flying as well, as she finds it therapeutic. Even just relaxing with Sebastian in the Room of Requirement or Undercroft.

17. What's your OC's star sign?

Aquarius! Aquarians are intellectual, curious and can be deeply social. They are represented by the Star card in the tarot. They are determined to make a powerful difference in the world. ♒️

18. What kind of drunk is your OC?

She doesn’t normally drink, but she would be very chatty and giggly.

19. Who does your OC end up with?

Sebastian Sallow. He is her whole world and everything comes naturally with him. Her day doesn’t feel complete until she’s shared it with him. With him she feels anywhere they go, she’ll always be home.

20. Who is your OC's role model?

Professor Fig. He was her first father figure and the first to believe and guide her through such a challenging time. Not only with simply learning how to be a proper witch, but helping her learn about Ancient Magic and taking on a goblin rebellion.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

Not necessarily. If she can, Raven will tell said person how she feels right then. If it’s minor she won’t go out of her way to get back at them. If it’s critical then she will do what it takes to get back at them.

22. If your OC ever got the chance, would they go back in time? When would they go?

Ultimately no she wouldn’t go back. Through her hardships growing up she believes it made her the woman she is. Though if she could go back, it would be to try and save both Lodgok and Professor Fig.

23. What's your OC's favourite memory?

Getting her Hogwarts letter would be one. She always felt there was something more to her life but didn’t fully understand what. The picnic her and Sebastian went on the summer before their sixth year. They had finally confessed their feelings for each other and had their first kiss.

24. Will your OC ever admit to being wrong?

Always! No one wants to admit they’re wrong but Raven knows it’s the right thing to do. She feels it’s better to put her feelings aside and admit when something is her fault and go from there. Except with Imelda, because she finds it funny to get her all riled up over nothing, especially when it comes to quidditch.

25. Is your OC doomed by the narrative?

Possibly. Not sure where the next game is going to go. All these little things I wrote about Raven is for me only and I fully look forward to see what will happen in the sequel!

26. Would your OC get along with you?

I would think so!☺️

27. What's one thing your OC will never get over?

Her fear of being alone and losing everyone she loves. She went from having no one to having a family in such a short time. To have that all taken away would be heart breaking.

28. Is your OC going to make it?

I’d like to think so. She’s been through so much but each time becomes stronger from it. Plus it helps to have the love of her life by her side. Sebastian gives her that extra boost of strength she didn’t know she needed.

29. Does your OC look their age?

Yes!✨

30. What weird pet would your OC have?

She has a pet Flying Fox Bat named Agnes since her seventh year. They can have a five foot wing span, and she’s basically as long as Raven is tall. So it took a bit for Sebastian to come around with her keeping Agnes. But Agnes is a bit sweetheart and loves being part of the family. Mini story of Agnes was she was living in captivity at the London Zoo and escaped one day. Making her way to the Forbidden Forest, Raven found her alone while taking a hike late one evening. They had an immediate connection and she’s taken care of her ever since. 🦇

31. Does your OC care a lot about their appearance?

Yes and no. Personal hygiene of course. Brushing a braiding her hair, definitely. If it’s a regular day then she does not mind wearing a casual outfit. Going out on a date with Sebastian, then she’ll put on a little makeup and get dolled up more because… why not?💄

32. What's one food your OC can't stand?

French Onion Soup. It was what was mostly served at the orphanage. Yuck!

33. What animal do people associate your OC with?

Probably the same as her Patronus, which is a black bear. That animal is known for their adaptability and resourcefulness. Others will see her as a fierce opponent who will protect herself and those close to her. Only those close to her will know of that softer side she usually keeps hidden away.

34. What's your OC's "thing"?

Depends on what the “thing” refers to… 😅🤔 if it’s behavioral then it’s fiddling with her braid when she’s nervous and can’t figure out what to say, thus being an awkward mess. If it’s material then probably her cameo brooch. If it’s physical then her lilac eyes of course!

35. Random fact about your OC

Despite being Latina, she doesn’t speak Spanish. Because Raven doesn’t know where part of her heritage comes from she never learned.

36. Would your OC sleep with a clone of themself?

…no…🫣

37. What part of yourself do you love in your OC?

Her loyalty to her the people she loves/cares about the most.

38. What's the lowest point in your OC's life?

After being “disciplined” crying herself to sleep and feeling so alone. Wishing and dreaming of a better tomorrow.

39. What's your OC's biggest achievement?

Finding a family. She believes family isn’t about blood, but finding people who will always be there no matter what and accept you for who you are.

40. Does your OC ever go back home?

She considered her “home” to be wherever Sebastian is. The orphanage was never her home.

41. How would your OC adapt to the modern world?

Since she loves music so much I think so. There’s so much emotion to express through music. With that I think she can adapt pretty quickly.

42. Does your OC have any unique talents?

As stated, she sings and plays piano. 🎤🎹 Though it takes a long time to finally share that passion with others.

43. Does your OC exist in canon or AU timeline?

Canon, I think.

44. Is your OC a people person?

Only with those in her inner circle. She will be cordial to others, unless they’re rude to her and then they won’t be worth her time anymore.

45. Did your OC ever have an alternative name?

Whatever her birth name was, but she’ll never know.

46. Does your OC possess any special powers?

Just being able to wield Ancient Magic.✨

47. Is your OC allergic to anything?

Just to people who are rude and mean to others for no reason.

48. Does your OC have a lot of uncommon knowledge? How do they know it?

I guess knowing able everyday muggle things that would seem weird to other people only growing up in the wizarding world.

49. Does your OC have any scars or birthmarks with an interesting story?

She has some scares from being “disciplined”, thankfully she can cover them with everyday clothes.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

I hate that she isn’t real and that the wizarding world isn’t real😆 Otherwise no, I don’t nor can I hate Raven. I love her courage and kindness. That she’ll fight no matter hard things may seem, and always get back up after falling down. She’s had to overcome so much and was alone for so long but now she has a family.🪻💜

If you have finished reading then thank you so much!💜

[italic-doing-random-shit]

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf

Good

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf

Sept, huit, neuf (sept, huit, neuf)

Sept, huit, neuf (sept, huit, neuf)

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

My dearest, Angelica

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

I trust you'll understand the reference to another Scottish tragedy

Without my having to name the play

They think me Macbeth, ambition is my folly

I'm a polymath, a pain in the ass, a massive pain

Madison is Banquo

Jefferson's Macduff

And Birnam Wood is Congress on its way to Dunsinane

And there you are an ocean away

Do you have to live an ocean away?

Thoughts of you subside

Then I get another letter

And I cannot put the notion away

Take a break

I am on my way

There's a little surprise before supper and it cannot wait

I'll be there in just a minute, save my plate

Alexander

Okay, okay

Your son is nine years old today

He has something he'd like to say

He's been practicing all day

Philip, take it away

Daddy, daddy, look

My name is Philip

I am a poet

I wrote this poem just to show it

And I just turned nine

You can write rhymes but you can't write mine

What!

I practice French and play piano with my mother

Uh-huh

I have a sister but I want a little brother

Okay

My daddy's trying to start America's bank

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq!

Bravo!

Take a break

Hey, our kid is pretty great

Run away with us for the summer

Let's go upstate

Eliza, I've got so much on my plate

We can all go stay with my father

There's a lake I know

I know

In a nearby park

I'd love to go

You and I can go when the night gets dark

I will try to get away

My dearest Alexander, you must get through to Jefferson

Sit down with him and compromise

Don't stop 'til you agree

Your favourite older sister Angelica reminds you

There's someone in your corner all the way across the sea

In a letter I received from you two weeks ago

I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase

It changed the meaning, did you intend this?

One stroke and you've consumed my waking days

It says

"My dearest, Angelica"

With a comma after dearest

You've written

"My dearest, Angelica"

Anyway, all this to say

I'm coming home this summer

At my sister's invitation

I'll be there with your family if you make your way upstate

I know you're very busy, I know your work's important

But I'm crossing the ocean and I just can't wait

You won't be an ocean away

You'll only be a moment away

Alexander come downstairs, Angelica's arriving today

Angelica!

Eliza!

The Schuyler sisters

Alexander!

Hi

It's good to see your face

Angelica, tell this man, John Adams spends the summer with his family

Angelica, tell my wife, John Adams doesn't have a real job anyway

You're not joining us? Wait-

I'm afraid I cannot join you upstate

Alexander, I came all this way

She came all this way

All this way

Take a break

You know I have to get my plan through Congress

Run away with us for the summer

Let's go upstate

I'll lose my job if we don't get this plan through Congress

We'll all go stay with our father

There's a lake I know

I know I'll miss your face

In a nearby park

Screw your courage to the sticking place

You and I can go

Eliza's right

Take a break

Take a break and get away

Run away with us for the summer

Let's go upstate

Where we can stay

We can all go stay with our father

If you take your time, you will make your mark

Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now

Close your eyes and dream

We can go

When the night gets dark

Take a break

I have to get my plan through Congress

I can't stop 'til I get this plan through Congress

Here ya go

THERES NOTHING LIKE SUMMER IN THE CITY-

[thelibraryloser]

Summary: Chat Noir is fighting evil all on his own, not aware he’s supposed to be half of a whole. Hawkmoth is desperate to get his hands on the Black Cat and Ladybug Miraculous, knowing that if he causes enough destruction the world will demand balance and the Ladybug will have to appear. And when she does, she's not what anyone expected. Chat thought having a partner would feel different- maybe like how he feels talking to the girl on the balcony.

Part 1

The best part of the Italian penthouse was the balcony. If Adrien leaned far enough over the edge, he could see the far-right spire of the Duomo di Milano, standing like a fencing sabre against the sunset. He liked to throw the French doors wide open before practicing the piano each afternoon, imagining that the people walking the streets below could hear and enjoy it.

The suite hadn’t originally included a baby grand piano, but his father had insisted that Adrien not fall behind in any of his accomplishments during fashion week. He didn’t want to think of the astronomical expense it had incurred, taking what looked like a football team of men to haul it to the top level of the hotel.

He stopped and frowned. The melody was unresolved. “All alone…”

He turned to face the little black kwami who hovered near his hand. “It needs something, doesn’t it?” He plunked out the tune one more time.

“I don’t really know what you expect from me, kid. I’m not a musician.”

“I like that,” Adrien smiled. He copied the tune all the way through. “Little kitty on a roof… all alone… um... I might change the words. As they are now, I’m not sure how it could have a happy ending.”

“You could make it about cheese?” Plagg offered. 

Adrien was left feeling, not for the first time, that he was missing something important. “All alone… without…”

Plagg glanced toward the door for a moment before disappearing into the piano—a sure sign that the door was about to open. Adrien flipped his book open to a tricky Vivaldi piece (properly Italian, in the spirit of the trip), and began to play just as Nathalie opened the door.

“You’ll be photographed just as much off the runway as you would on. I’ll send up a team.”

Adrien sighed and pulled a face at her retreating back.

Plagg reappeared when the door snapped shut behind her.

Adrien rolled his eyes. He’d been working on his accent, but to a kwami that spoke every language that ever existed he would always sound a bit silly.

“There’s a big event tonight, and then… well, everyone else heads to Paris after that. But we probably won’t. My father hasn’t been to Paris since my mother died.

Adrien couldn’t disagree. He turned back to the piano and idly plunked out his new tune, pondering the lyrics while waiting for his style crew to appear.

“Little kitty on a roof. All alone… without his….”

Something.

next

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 I did it.

Hamilton AU

Alastor x OC

Let's just assume that children in hell can grow up okay?

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf Good

"One two three, one two three, one two three," Aponi recited as her 9 year old daughter danced. "Good," Aponi smiled.

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf Sept, huit, neuf (sept, huit, neuf) Sept, huit, neuf (sept, huit, neuf) One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

"One two three, one two three, one two three," Both her and her daughter recited.

Judith made a small mistake only for aponi to stand behind her and show her the correct moves.

"One two three four five six seven eight nine!" Judith giggled before hugging her mother.

My dearest, Angelica Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day I trust you'll understand the reference to another Scottish tragedy Without my having to name the play

Alastor was down stairs, Angel Dust on the couch listening to him rant.

"Tommorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in thus petty pace from day to day," Alastor muttered.

"What?" Angel asked, a small sneer on his face.

"Oh angel, I trust you understand my reference to a famous play!" Alastor replied.

Angel rolled his eyes and shrugged.

They think me Macbeth, ambition is my folly I'm a polymath, a pain in the ass, a massive pain Madison is Banquo Jefferson's Macduff And Birnam Wood is Congress on its way to Dunsinane

"They think me Macbeth! Valentino is Banquo, Vox is Macduff, and Burnam Wood is hell and all its finest rumors," Alastor stated.

Aponi walked into the room.

Take a break I am on my way There's a little surprise before supper and it cannot wait I'll be there in just a minute, save my plate Alexander Okay, okay

"Al, take a break!" Aponi exclaimed.

"On my way, darling!" Alastor replied as he stood there, contemplating what to do about his latest predicament.

"Al, Judy has prepared a small suprise for her birthday," Aponi stated.

"I'll be there I a minute, dear, save my plate!" Alastor responded.

"Alastor!" Aponi scolded.

"Alright, alright," Alastor sighed before wlaking with her, Angel Dust following behind into the dining room.

Your son is nine years old today He has something he'd like to say He's been practicing all day Philip, take it away

"Our daughter's nine years old today, she has something she'd like to do. She's been practicing all day. Judy, take it away," Aponi stated, proudly.

Daddy, daddy, look My name is Philip I am a poet I wrote this poem just to show it And I just turned nine You can write rhymes but you can't write mine What!

"Daddy, daddy look!" Judith exclaimed as she stood on pint and began to dance a small amount while singing. "My name is Judith! I am a poet! I write this poem just to show it! And I just turned nine! You xan write rhymes but you can't write mine!" She giggled.

Alastor laughed genuinely.

I practice French and play piano with my mother Uh-huh I have a sister but I want a little brother Okay My daddy's trying to start America's bank Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq! Bravo!

"I practice French with my father and my mother! I don't have siblings but i want a little brother!" She smiled as she danced.

"Okay-" Alastor stated awkwardly.

"My dad's tryn to start hell's new radio studio! One two three, one two three!" She exclaimed.

"Bravo, my dear!" Alastor shouted as he picked up Judith.

Take a break Hey, our kid is pretty great Run away with us for the summer Let's go upstate Eliza, I've got so much on my plate We can all go stay with my father

"Take a break, my love," aponi stated.

"Our girl is so amazing," Alastor smiled as Judith leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Come away with us for the summer we'll go stay with furcalor!" Aponi exclaimed.

"Darling I have so much on my plate," Alastor replied.

"She has a mansion and it's so nice up there!" Aponi replied.

There's a lake I know I know In a nearby park I'd love to go You and I can go when the night gets dark I will try to get away

"Theres a lake I know," aponi stated.

"I know, darling,"

"In annearby park!" Aponi attempted.

"I'd love to go, dear,"

"You and I can go when the night gets dark," Aponi smirked, knowing it was October in a few days.

"I will try to get away my dear," Alastor stated before setting Judith down and going back into the living room.

Angel followed him.

My dearest Alexander, you must get through to Jefferson Sit down with him and compromise Don't stop 'til you agree Your favourite older sister Angelica reminds you There's someone in your corner all the way across the sea

"Al, I get you gotta get through to vox. Sit down with him and compromise don't stop till ya agree. We're all in ya corner here in the hotel," Angel began.

Alastor sighed.

Anyway, all this to say I'm coming home this summer At my sister's invitation I'll be there with your family if you make your way upstate I know you're very busy, I know your work's important But I'm crossing the ocean and I just can't wait You won't be an ocean away You'll only be a moment away

"Anyways. I'm goin with 'poni, Cherri, mallory and everyone else to furcalor's. You should come. I know ya very busy we know ya work's important, but we're all taking breaks," Angel attempted, knowing that if Alastor came it would be better for everyone.

Alexander come downstairs, Angelica's arriving today Angelica! Eliza! The Schuyler sisters Alexander! Hi It's good to see your face

A day passed and Alastor walked aponi to the car that was to take the residents to the mansion.

"Angie!" Aponi exclaimed as angel dust made himself known.

"'Poni!" Angel replied as they hugged. "Alastor," Angel nodded, happy to see him there.

Angelica, tell this man, John Adams spends the summer with his family Angelica, tell my wife, John Adams doesn't have a real job anyway You're not joining us? Wait- I'm afraid I cannot join you upstate Alexander, I came all this way She came all this way All this way

"Angel, tell alastor that Stolas spends the summer with his family-"

"Angel tell Aponi that stolas doesn't have a real job anyway," alastor cut aponi off.

"You ain't joinin us?" Angel asked.

"I'm afraid I have too much on my plate," Alastor replied.

"But Al, ya came all the way down the stairs! Ya came all this way!" Angel teased.

"All this way!" Aponi played along.

Take a break You know I have to get my plan through Congress Run away with us for the summer Let's go upstate I'll lose my job if we don't get this plan through Congress We'll all go stay with our father

"Take a break!" Aponi pleaded.

"Darling you know I have to make my new radio studio. They're becoming popular again!" Alastor replied.

"Oh cmon pimp! Let's go stay in a mansion!" Angel attempted.

"Vox will run me through the mud if I don't do well," Alastor argued.

"We'll all go away to furcalor's!" Aponi exclaimed.

There's a lake I know I know I'll miss your face In a nearby park Screw your courage to the sticking place You and I can go Eliza's right

"Theres a lake in a nearby park, you and i I go!" Aponi reasoned.

"We'll all miss your face! Fuck ya courage to the stickin place!" Angel stated. "'Poni's right!"

Take a break Take a break and get away Run away with us for the summer Let's go upstate Where we can stay We can all go stay with our father

"I cant!" Alastor muttered.

"Take a break and get away!" Aponi smiled.

"Run away with us for the summer!" Angel exclaimed.

"We'll all be staying with furcalor!" Aponi stated.

If you take your time, you will make your mark Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now Close your eyes and dream We can go When the night gets dark Take a break

Alastor shook his head.

"Just take ya time! It's aight to take a break ev'ry once in a while!" Angel explained.

"Oh cmon, look at how lucky we are to be in hell right now! Judith needs more time with you! We can go to the lake when the night gets dark!" Aponi pleaded.

I have to get my plan through Congress I can't stop 'til I get this plan through Congress

"I can't," alastor sighed before taking Aponi's hands. "I can't stop until I get this finished," he muttered before heading inside, leaving a disappointed aponi near the stairs.

[reigningprinceofithaca]

I practice piano and play french with my mother

(Idk how to mix that one without it sounding weird 🤷)

wow I love playing French! do you like drinking food

[thislovintime]

A look at Peter Tork, multi-instrumentalist:

“[Peter’s] really a genius, a prolific musician — he plays about seven instruments.” - Micky Dolenz, Record Mirror, February 11, 1967

"A friend of the family, Tom Glazer, a folk singer, is the one who started it all for me. He gave me my ukulele. I had been taking piano lessons but when I got the uke, I found I could go plunk, plunk, and it was a sound I really dug. My mother wanted me to keep studying the piano, but I couldn’t make that plunk-plunk sound on it even after practicing. Knowing the piano helped a lot, though. I played other instruments too, like the French horn. I played that as a senior in high school in Connecticut and in a university band." - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967

"[As a performer in the early to mid-'60s, Peter] was utterly solo. And he was, he was fantastic. He was so good. It was wonderful." - James Lee Stanley, Tales of the Road Warriors, March 2019 (x)

Q: “Is it true that Micky Dolenz didn’t want to play the drums? He had never touched a drumstick before in his life?” Peter Tork: “I don’t know about that, and, and it certainly isn’t true that he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how to. I taught him his first drum lick. (imitates lick) You know, like that. ‘Okay, Micky, you hit it here, and you let it up with your foot, you close your foot, and you hit it again.’ (laughs)” - GOLD 104.5, 1999

Q: “Your first instrument was piano. So, were you comfortable when asked to play bass?” Peter Tork: “Yes, piano came first at age nine, and I think by age 13 came guitar. In the early 1960s, what you did as a guitar player was play folk music. One of the ways you played it was to perform a thing called Travis Picking. 
A guy named Merle Travis pretty much created that alternating thumb with syncopated finger picking on top, which meant you had to know the location of your bass notes. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom bom, boom bom, boom bom, boom – that kind of thing you knew if you were playing guitar. As it happens, the bass guitar is the bottom four strings of an acoustic guitar dropped an octave. My fingers pretty much fell into place picking up a guitar, and it was essentially the easiest transition in the world for me. I hardly even noticed I was picking up a different instrument. So yeah, it’s always been pretty interesting and easy. I’ve always enjoyed playing bass.” Q: “You were actually the first Monkee to appear musically on the group’s self-titled debut album, released in October 1966. How did that happen?” PT: “There was a guitar section at that point – five guitar players. And I was like fourth out of the five guitars. I didn’t have a big contribution by any means. It was just actually Mike being nice to me. He was in charge of his songs. There were four tracks produced by Michael on the first two albums, and I played guitar on three – ‘Papa Gene’s Blues,’ ‘Sweet Young Thing,’ and ‘Mary, Mary.’” - Pop Culture Examiner, November 1, 2011

Q: “Peter, you play various instruments. Do you prefer to play keyboards to banjo?” PT: “Depends. I think that primarily, the thing about the banjo is that it plays one kind of music only. The piano is of course much more widely — if I had, if I could have a keyboard but no banjo or the other way around, I would of course keep the keyboard, just because you can play rock and roll and folk and melodies and improvise. It’s the instrument I’m most familiar with, it’s the one I trained on, and harmonically, it’s the one that falls most readily under my hands. And I think that would be, that would be it. The banjo is of course wonderful in its own way and you can do things on the banjo that no other instrument is capable of. I’d like to, I’d like to go on having what I’ve got, which is essentially both and then some, of course, guitar and French horn and harmonica and bass and all the others that I play on or play at. But for one instrument only, of course the keyboards.” - Headquarters radio, September 1989 (x)

"You know who was good? Peter Tork was an amazing multi-instrumentalist. I had no idea!" - Roger Bechirian (producer, Pool It!), Tape Op, July/August 2012 (x)

"I guess I’m still just a young hippie-folkie-rocker at heart, learning to play the blues.” - Peter Tork, Los Angeles Times, June 22, 2013 (x)

"I enjoy playing Johann Sebastian Bach [on piano] for a hobby, just to take my mind into different places." - Peter Tork, Medium, August 2017

And, to select some video footage to accompany this post, here's Peter... in 33 ⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee; live in Chicago in August 1988; live in 1997; Peter and Shoe Suede Blues (and early show); and playing the organ at Detroit's Fox Theatre.

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleonic daily soap, episode 3: extra challenge – no Napoleon screentime!

Scene: Marseille. View of ships in the harbour, seagulls circling.

CUT to new scene: Small, dark bedroom, small stripes of daylight falling in between closed shutters. Sounds of seagulls screeching outside. Letizia kneeling in front of a small madonna figurine on her nightstand. A candle burning next to it.

Letizia [mutters prayers in Latin]

Sounds of a badly tuned piano coming from the next room. Somebody’s practicing a melody, failing every time. Laughter of girls.

Letizia [getting fed up]

„Dio Mio!“

Letizia [scrambles to her feet, yanks open the door to the next room, revealing Pauline and Caroline together in front of the piano, with Elisa sitting on the sofa, reading]

Letizia [in Italian]

„Paoletta! Annunciata! Do you want to drive your poor old mother crazy! Let Maria Anna play if you want to hear music, at least she can play!“

Caroline:

„But Mamma! How are we supposed to learn if we must not practice?“

Elisa [without looking up from her book, in a bored tone]:

„Also, as I’ve told you a dozen times already, don’t call me Maria Anna. It’s Elisa now.“

Pauline [mockingly]:

„Oh, of course, it’s Mademoiselle Elisa now. Because Mademoiselle has gone to school and has become all accomplished and distinguished  and French. [To Caroline] We really should let her play, Annunciata. She needs to keep practicing those skills. After all, she’s so ugly she’ll never find a husband without them.“

Pauline and Caroline laugh. Elisa throws her book at Pauline, missing her.

Letizia [crossing her arms in front of her chest] „Stop this, and give your mother some rest. I’ll never understand why Joseph spent so much money on this instrument anymway. If you girls want to find a husband, better learn cooking.“

Elisa, Pauline and Caroline [role their eyes, make different exasperated sounds]

Elisa:

„Mamma, I don’t think any of us girls plans on marrying someone unable to afford a cook.“

Pauline:

„Ya betcha!“

Letizia [regarding Elisa]

„In this case you better really practice whatever skills you have to attract a husband. Wealthy men look for beauty, or a dowry. Unless Joseph manages to squeeze some more money out of his Clary relations or finally has some success with his money making scheme in Genoa, none of you will have a dowry.“

Pauline:

„I don’t need no stinking dowry. I’m beautiful enough.“

Letizia [gives her a stern look but ends up smiling]

„You sure are, darling. But it still wouldn’t hurt if you knew how to gut a chicken. That goes for you, too, Annunziata.“

Caroline:

„Caroline.“

Letizia:

„What was that?“

Caroline:

„I’ve decided about my new name. If Maria Anna can be Elisa, I want to be called Caroline. That sounds much better. Much more French.“

Letizia [exasperated]

„What is it with everybody wanting to be French these days?“

A knock interupts them. The door opens, Lucien and Fréron enter the room. Everybody rushes up to hug Lucien, talking over each other in Italian.

Letizia:

„Luciano! What a surprise! We thought you were in Paris, doing politics with all those Frenchmen?“

Lucien: „That’s where I’m coming from, Mamma. But I’ve been sent here to Marseille in order to work with one of our most famous politicians, one of the pillars of our Republic. May I introduce you all to Citizen Louis Stanislas Fréron?“

Pauline [regarding Fréron from head to toe, smiling while licking her lips]

„Why, hello.“

Fréron [returning the look, grinning]

„Hel-lo!

Letizia [looks from Pauline to Fréron and back, starts smiling as well]

„Welcome, Citizen Fréron.“

Elisa and Caroline huddle around their mother, start whispering anxiously.

Elisa:

„Mamma, I believe this man has done really horrible things during the Revolution.“

Caroline:

„Yes, I think he’s a mass murderer or something!“

Letizia [looks at them confusedly]

„So?“

[thecapturedafrique]

HLAW: Day 2—Skills v. Passions/Chocolate

I hope everyone has been having a fantastic HLAW so far! I was out of town on vacation this past Juneteenth weekend and am definitely late to the party, but I wanted to share my idea of how Hana’s extensive skill set came to be! This post covers not only the skills we’re shown directly in canon but also the subjects she’d have been expected to be educated in as a noble lady. While it was originally intended to be a list of bullet points, I ended up adding more elaboration (and a little bit of the second theme there at the end lol).

Tagging @hanaleeappreciationweek and its awesome hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

In my version of Hana’s backstory, she was educated from ages of 5 to 10 primarily by her Taiwanese governess Tài Luó, named after the character Miss Anne Taylor from Emma. This included the basics such as reading, writing, and arithmetic, as well as some local history and folklore alongside the life sciences.

Under different tutors, Hana began additional lessons in French and Italian as well as the fine arts. This included painting and singing but began with the piano, when 3-year-old Hana first demonstrated her talent by repeating a section played by her mother, leading Lorelai to seek the best piano teacher money could buy.

Lin Changsong (parodied after the real pianist Yin Chengzong) agreed to instruct Hana after hearing her play, teaching her musical theory as well. He also encouraged her to take up another instrument after she demonstrated an aptitude for composition, and so she was also to a far lesser extent taught to play the violin.

After her tenth birthday, Hana’s governess was exchanged for an etiquette coach to prepare her for her first high societal appearance at the upcoming English Social Season. Named after the tutor from Barbie in the Princess and the Pauper, Lady Julianne de Montfort is the heiress to the extinct IRL duchy of Brittany.

Under her tutelage, Hana became fully fluent in French and thoroughly instructed in all of the social graces like conversation, decorum, and courtly manners. Lorelai also enrolled her in the Shanghai Dance School for additional lessons, where she learned ballet and classical Chinese dances from the instructor Shi Zhongyi.

Though having already been taught to sew by her grandmother Lee Bao, Hana was sent to the Shanghai Embroidery Institute, where she had to take supplementary knot tying lessons after finishing early. Bao encouraged her to take her skills further, first for dressmaking and later on for fashion design in general.

Hana’s academic studies were furthered as well by various instructors in world/cultural/ancient history, philosophies of multiple doctrines, classical literature (both Western and Chinese), advanced mathematics, and the physical/social sciences (including astronomy, chemistry, economics, political science, and sociology).

Her instruction in the equestrian arts took place while abroad in England for the Social Season, where she joined the riding club at Wimbledon Village Stables and learned dressage as well as the various riding styles. Hana was led by her parents to partake in other “noble” sporting activities like polo, ice skating, and archery.

She also learned some tai chi from Bao, who passed soon after her 15th birthday. This also ended Hana’s lessons with both Lady Julianne (which had evolved into fencing practice) and Lin Changsong, as they had both been financed by her grandmother after receiving the blame for her last public piano performance at age 12.

Hana was given a laptop to attend the online Balissande Finishing School, where her social education shifted to focusing on developing her skills as a hostess. This included courses on interior decorating and the history of art and furniture, which ignited her genuine interest in historical interior design.

One of the conditions to be a debutante for the Queen Charlotte's Ball (the finale of Hana’s official court debut) was entering a university program. While Lorelai and Xinghai did limit her options to areas of study they deemed would increase her appeal to noble suitors, Hana was still excited to choose the culinary arts.

She attended the Culinary Arts Academy Switzerland to earn her Swiss Grand Diploma in Pastry & Chocolate Arts, and her internship at Le Cordon Bleu Shanghai further refined her palate. Her graduation at the age of 18 marked the end of Hana’s formal training period, and thus began the search for an eligible husband.

[spiritual-activity]

Headcanons pt. 3! (Hetty & Trevor)

These two are quite the pair. They have a very interesting dynamic.

[Spoilers ahead- beware]

Anyways, happy reading!

*Trevor*

This man is trans and a short king. Maybe shorter than Hetty by an inch or two.

Was a math nerd in school. He could name the first 150 digits of pi if he wanted to. Could solve almost any equation put in front of him. Essentially why he worked for Wall Street.

Big dog person. Loves all the dogs who are just huge, including his own. St. Bernards and Great Pyrenees are among his top favorites. Took up dog walking as a summer hobby in his local neighborhood.

Always had some kind of hand injury. It would either be a cut, bruise of some kind, or a finger would be broken. Never knew himself on how he kept obtaining them.

Already had bad heart problems before he died. It was mainly genetic due to a cousin having the same thing- hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.

A great writer. He actually made his own stories, just never published them. Never was much of an artist, but did attempt to make art for the cover and a few scenes.

Hopeless romantic. It's easy for him to develop crushes on those he know pretty well.

*Hetty*

Has kind of accepted that the other ghosts are now her new family (along with Sam and Jay). Will not openly admit it, but has to a few people.

Half-blind in her right eye after an accident with the electrical wiring.

Once had a pet peacock named Kinsley. Practically grew up with the bird and she was her only friend as a child.

She can play the piano. Learned from her mother and can play really well because of it. Insists on teaching Sam on how to play it.

Started to see Isaac as more of an older brother since the start of season 2. She's allowed to braid his hair every now and then. Sibling privileges. They also gossip about the other ghosts in French.

She talks to the taxidermy raven in the attic on occasion. It's the same one that she had when she was young. His name is Reginald. Reginald and Kinsley were her feathered friends that she dearly misses.

Her favorite place on the property has to be the back garden. She goes at the same time every week. Sam and Jay worked on the garden so that it actually looks good. Since then, Hetty has found that the garden can be beautiful most of the time.

I absolutely love sharing my headcanons!

[diorysuss]

a convulated oc fact list i wrote in 40 minutes about my ocs because why not. (I am also tired so if some facts seem outta place that’s why 😭😭)

SoL kids and what they are

Dion(ysus) Simmons

- Guarded, Jazz Agent, Psygeology

- African American, specifically creole from New Orleans

- Bisexual

- She/Her, Cis Female

- Bilingual, French and English

- Companion: Molly B. Even though Dion hates the way she talks, they’re a pretty good duo.

- Autistic, but she never got diagnosed so was just called “odd but cool once you get to know her”

- Special Interest was brass instruments as a kid but now she’s just really into rocks.

- In her shadow run she gives eye trauma to shadow president as revenge

- Dating Big Lizzie. Calls her Lovebug (goals)

- Selectively mute sometimes. Like she will just flat out ignore you and not talk to you if she’s mute.

- Dion can play every brass instrument but will visible sob if you try to teach her string/woodwind

- “No, just because I’m named Dionysus doesn’t mean she’s associated with alcoholic beverages and organized crime, damn it!”

- Doesn’t wear hats. The hatless run.

- But will constantly wear her shades. Her left eye does this weird thing from when she was 6 and she doesn’t like it.

- The oldest/peacemaker out of the 3 Simmons kid.

Ares Simmons

- Checkered Past, Pig Skinner, Cryptobotany

- AroAce | Neurotypical | Anger Issues

- He/They, demiboy (he will actually beat the shit outta you if you say otherwise)

- Companion: Simone. He freaks her out sometimes but they got along.

- African American/Italian, adopted from DirtWater and brought to New Orleans

- Ares actually served in the U.S army under Bruise; he genuinely thought for a little while that his lieutenant was named Bruce, and was shocked to find him as his rival.

- He adopted the ruthless perk from his mother; absolutely a beast and has little to no empathy for most others than his family and companions. Most violent being in loathing

- He was put in prison for 6 months before getting out for the wrong thing (they thought he committed a series of gruesome murders; no he just punched a parking meter too hard or something)

- In his shadow run he didn’t just absorb Bruise he literally beat the shit outta him until he was bone

- “Romance is for WEAK PEOPLE who need another person to function.”

- Ares has little to no filter; he says whatever he wants when he wants. This can lead to unwarranted consequences that he shoves, kicks and bites his way out of.

-Bruise is missing a finger because of him.

- Youngest out of the 3 siblings

Demet(er) Simmons

- Scouts Honor, Cheese Wizard, Insectology

- Any/All, Genderfluid

- Lesbian | Asexual

- ADHD

- African American, Creole and from New Orleans

- Companion: Obie. They help each other and duet in the speakeasy a lot.

- Bilingual, French and English

- Demet is notably disabled and uses fore-arm crutches to walk; makes wizarding a bit hard but they make do

- Pacifist, he genuinely wanted to be friends with Noël, but had to send her out of country.

- Demet knows piano; a hobby she practiced since she wasn’t allowed (or rather didn’t let herself) go outside.

- Hates bugs but hates sapient rocks and weird plants more

- She likes Jasper’s shades a whole lot; makes her feel cool.

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (22/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 22

Beverly’s thoughts were a jumble all afternoon and well into the evening. An enormous, writhing tangle composed of the look Jean-Luc gave her in his ready room, his mortification when she caught that look and how quickly he’d snuffed it out, and only minutes later his playful tone when he offered to give her French lessons…

The memories circled around and around her mind as if chasing each other, somehow managing to always land on the look. Beverly doesn’t think she’s felt such heat from Jean-Luc since they first met, before Jack started courting her.

And his reaction when she noticed the desire practically burning in his eyes—how efficiently he’d hidden it away—makes her wonder: all those times she’s felt a barrier between them, felt as though she must have imagined there ever being a spark…was it just Jean-Luc holding himself back? Is his control that absolute?

This only made her thoughts swirl faster. His look in his ready room. His look when she intruded on him in the bath and tried to sneak a peek of his body beneath the water. His look when she’d been touching his stomach during his physical. The moment she thought he was going to kiss her hand. The flirtatiousness of him suggesting he give her French lessons.

Beverly’s catching glimpses of something, but she’s not quite certain what—or, rather, she knows exactly what she’s seeing but she’s too flustered to dissect it, to pin it down and name it.

Rushing to Jean-Luc’s quarters after the crisis in sick bay—acid burns from an experiment in one of the chemistry labs gone wrong—feels like racing towards the edge of a cliff.

And yet she can slow neither her steps nor the rapid beat of her heart. She knows that Jean-Luc’s invitation to dinner was not a date, but she had hoped there might be an after, so she brings a clootie dumpling, praying it’s excuse enough to join them. To stay.

She’s not expecting to interrupt what’s clearly for Jean-Luc a very private moment.

“Papa is going to play the flute,” Louis says. “Come listen.”

Jean-Luc looks as if he might drop dead or throw up or one first and then the other, but Louis’s hand is in hers and he’s pulling her into their quarters. Beverly has the presence of mind to deposit the clootie dumpling on the dining table before allowing Louis to lead her to the couch, where she sits obediently. Unexpectedly, Louis sits beside her, close enough that their legs touch.

Beverly knows about the flute recovered from the Kataanian probe, the one resembling a tin whistle that Jean-Luc calls Ressikan when he refers to it. She’s aware that he can play it and actively practices it, but he’s made it clear—implicitly, of course—that it’s deeply personal and something he wishes not to share.

She can see now that he very much wishes not to share.

“Jean-Luc,” she says gently. “If you want me to leave, I can leave.”

Louis looks to her and then to his father, frowning. He asks Jean-Luc something in French to which Jean-Luc replies, “Tout va bien, Louis.” He smiles, a soft smile that appears genuine rather than merely reassuring. “It’s just that…” Here, his eyes find Beverly’s. “I’ve never played for an audience before.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Do you want us to turn around?”

Jean-Luc’s head jerks in surprise. Brows raised, he says, “Your father told you that.”

It’s a statement, not a question, but Louis nods. Jean-Luc sighs. After a brief pause, in which he seems to be having some sort of internal debate, he turns to Beverly, grinning lopsidedly.

“When I was a child,” he says, “my mother made me learn to play the piano. After my lessons, she would ask me to play for her and my father, but I was too nervous to perform in front of other people, so I would tell them to turn around. That way, I wouldn’t feel as if they were watching me.”

“How long did you play for?” Beverly asks. She wants to know more. Jean-Luc doesn’t share much from his childhood; an anecdote here and there, always small, never revealing.

“Only about a year,” he replies, lips twisting ruefully.

“Why did you stop?”

“I dreaded the recitals.”

“And you couldn’t exactly ask an entire room full of strangers to sit with their backs to you,” Beverly guesses.

“No, I couldn’t,” Jean-Luc chuckles.

“Should we turn around?”

Jean-Luc shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I’ll…it’s alright.” He lifts the flute, looks at Louis. “I’m not a professional, like your maman. I’m only an amateur—and I’m not a very good amateur.”

Louis says something quietly in French that sounds encouraging; Jean-Luc smiles, then takes a deep breath and sets the flute to his lips.

As the first notes float from the instrument in Jean-Luc’s hands, Beverly’s entire body falls still. The melody seems to physically fill the room—to fill her. She’s not a musician, but she understands when someone plays with true feeling—the same way she understands when someone dances with passion—and Jean-Luc is pouring himself into this particular melody.

When he finishes, he lowers the flute and raises his eyes hesitantly to them, Louis first and then her, and Beverly can’t recall a time he’s ever looked so vulnerable.

“Papa, what was that?” Louis asks.

“It was, um…” Jean-Luc hesitates, rolling the flute between his fingertips. “It was an old folk melody. I learned it on a planet called Kataan.”

“Can you play it again?”

Jean-Luc blinks at him. “Again? The same song? Are you certain?”

“Oui. Please.”

The second time Jean-Luc plays, he watches Louis, so Beverly does too. Louis is attentive to the melody in a different way than she is; the way an artist admires a painting—or a musician admires music. She’s seen the same look on Jean-Luc’s face at concerts, a depth of enjoyment that reaches down into his very soul.

After Jean-Luc lowers the flute a second time, he carefully looks at her again.

Beverly doesn’t applaud; that would only embarrass him. He doesn’t want her praise, he wants…

He wants to not regret revealing himself, she thinks.

She’s closer to him than anyone else, but he still keeps parts of himself guarded, hidden. Her presence here is pure happenstance, and he wants to know that he let her in and she…accepted him—accepted this part of him.

“That was very beautiful,” she says softly.

“You liked it?”

“I did. You play much better than you give yourself credit for.”

Bashfully, he shakes his head, gaze averted.

“Can you play more?” Louis asks.

Jean-Luc glances at Beverly, and she knows he’s worried that he’s trying her patience.

“I would like to hear another song too,” she assures him.

His expression relaxes, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll play one more song.”

“Three more songs,” Louis says.

“One more song.”

There’s a hint of iron in his tone. It’s a tone very few people on this ship would dare to argue with.

Louis, undeterred, wheedles, “Three. Please?”

Jean-Luc sighs. “Two.”

“Two,” Louis agrees quickly. Too quickly.

Beverly sees the moment that Jean-Luc realizes he was neatly duped, sees the narrowing of his eyes, the calculations he performs in his head, the mental adjustments, then he raises a brow, dips his chin in acknowledgement of his defeat, and plays two more songs. One is "Frère Jacques", and the other is classical, though Beverly can name neither the composer nor the composition.

Once finished, he very purposefully stands and moves to put it away—before he can be cajoled into playing more, Beverly assumes—but Louis jumps up and intercepts him. Jean-Luc regards him warily, but Louis merely asks, “Can I put it away?”

“Of course.” Jean-Luc relinquishes the flute, albeit nervously—it’s more precious to him than Beverly realized. Louis takes it delicately and carries it to the box on Jean-Luc’s desk, examining it as he goes.

Jean-Luc then turns to her, and Beverly stands, walks to him, and puts her hand on his arm.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says. “I enjoyed it very much. I’d like to hear you play again sometime.”

A crease appears between his brows. “Are you leaving?”

“I should go back to my own quarters. It’s getting late.”

She starts to let her hand drop, but as it slides down his arm he catches it, tangles their fingers together.

“I’d like you to stay,” he murmurs.

There it is.

Naked desire—and then as suddenly as it appeared, it disappears.

He pulls his hand from hers, says, “That is, if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

This is precisely what happened earlier—what’s happened many, many times before—and seeing it now confirms what she’s been suspecting all day: the spark between them exists, but for some reason, Jean-Luc is trying to smother it.

Why?

Beverly can think of only one reason: Jack. It’s a matter of honor—though whether it’s hers or Jean-Luc’s, she’s not certain.

What she is certain of, however, is that she’s going to have to be the one that makes the first move.

“I’ll stay,” she says.

[extrariceandeverythingnice]

THE MUSICIAN IS A THERAPIST for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they can get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.""

Welcome address to freshman parents at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of music division at Ithaca College:

“One of my parents' deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn't be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother's remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school-she said, "you're WASTING your SAT scores." On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren't really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the "arts and entertainment" section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it's the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you; the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp. He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture - why would anyone bother with music? And yet - from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn't just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art.

Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, "I am alive, and my life has meaning."

On September 12, 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn't this completely irrelevant?

Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn't shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn't play cards to pass the time, we didn't watch TV, we didn't shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang "We Shall Overcome". Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic.

The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of "arts and entertainment" as the newspaper section would have us believe. It's not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can't with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber's heart wrenchingly beautiful piece Adagio for Strings. If you don't know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn't know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what's really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings - people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there's some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn't good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding, cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks.

Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can't talk about it. Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn't happen that way.

The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I'll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland's Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland's, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier-even in his 70's, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn't the first time I've heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: "During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team's planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn't understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?"

Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year's freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this:

"If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you'd take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you're going to have to save their life.

Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You're not here to become an entertainer, and you don't have to sell yourself. The truth is you don't have anything to sell; being a musician isn't about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I'm not an entertainer; I'm a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You're here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don't expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that's what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives."

(From the post of Noel Espiritu Velasco)