#Piano Tuning and Maintenance

[vanguardpiano]

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[autistic-autumn]

Learning to do piano tuning would be cool but every time I look into it I get a heart attack at the sheer absurdity of everything involved.

[texaspianorestoration]

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[ventique18]

Papa 🐉 sometimes play the piano as a hobby. His baby approaches him curiously so he changes the tune to a jovial one. The boy instinctively dances along, but his legs are weak so he can only do up and down movements, much like squat exercises, while trying to balance on his two legs.

You walk in on a direbeast spinning round and round like an untiring top, a baby trying his best to contribute with his squats, a grown dragon fae laughing like he's never laughed before, and a poor piano groaning from the weight of its master smashing on its keys without a care in the world.

You think they all deserve some sandwiches and refreshing drinks for their hard work. Except the piano, of course. That one needs maintenance.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part eight charles leclerc  x  fem! driver! reader (angst/fluff) “… forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"You play?" You called though the apartment, crouching down infront of the piece. "I took the Leclerc's for more of . . . classical instruments." You noted, admiring the piece.

Arthur peaked his head from the wall, looking at you confused. "Ahhh." He snapped his fingers once he saw the red electric guitar leaning on the stand against the wall. "That's not mine, that's yours." He disappeared behind the wall again.

"Mine?" You frowned, confused. You didn't play any instruments as far as you could remember—

You entered the room loudly strumming the guitar to the tune of 'do i want to know' by arctic monkeys. "Mon Dieu, qu'ai-je jamais fait pour te déplaire. S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi." [dear god, what have i ever done to displease you. please forgive me] charles screamed into his hoodie as you stood on the background. "Have you ever been beaten by a wet spaghetti noodle because you confused your girlfriend for her twin sister and fucked her dad? That's what it's like to drive a Ford f2 50." You could hear the other quartet boys wheezing on stream while charles bit on his sleeve to muffle his screams.

You chuckle pulling the case open. You're met by a nice surprise. Tons of polaroid photos fill the case, leaving enough space for the guitar. They were all pictures of you and Charles, dating from the beginning of your relationship till mid 2020 during lockdown.

"I don't think he would've hid that here if he knew you put all these there." Arthur chuckled, holding up a cup of hot coffee ( or was it chocolate? ) for you.

It was both. You sipped the drink, looking at the memories. "What'd you mean?" "Charles didn't think it was as romantic as playing the piano in the morning." The older brother-in-law, Lorenzo, commented as he walked through the hallway.

"Speaking of mister romantic." Arthur sat beside you wiggling his eyebrows. "You like him." You dry laughed which did end up in an actual laugh.

"vous êtes en retard de plusieurs semaines." [you're late by a few weeks] Pascale corrected her youngest son as she stopped by the room, looking at you with a soft smile. You shrugged, sharing the smile.

"Je serais idiot de ne pas tomber amoureuse de mon mari." [i'd be an idiot to not fall for my husband] I joked. Arthur folded his arms squinting his eyes, giving you a suspicious look. "Donner une raison." [give reason] He demanded.

"What is this? An exam." You scoffed with a laugh, nudging his shoulder. "For sentimental reasons." You stuck your tongue out at him, putting the guitar in the case and collecting your things to leave.

"Ie dois partir . . . uhh— maintenant!" [i have to go, uhh now] You snapped your finger once you remembered the word, kissing Pascale's cheek gently. The Your family gave you smiles and waved farewells as you put your shoes on and left for your car.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"im safe" was the only message in the chat. You'd texted Charles almost a week ago to assure him of your safety. You didn't tell him where or with who you were, maybe that was why he didn't answer.

Was he angry? He probably was.

You sighed deeply, pocketing your phone as you approached your hotel room. You unlocked the door, pushing your suitcase inside. Charles was here, you could smell his cologne, or maybe because the shower was running and no one else would shower in your room.

Your eyes undiluted upon seeing the two separate beds.

The bathroom door unlocked and Charles stepped out. He was definitely surprised to see you, he wasn't expecting you till tomorrow. And you could tell. He wouldn't be standing there, naked, if he knew you'd be there.

"Sorry." Your voice came out raspy as you tore your eyes away from his bare flesh, looking away. You cleared your voice with a cough, starting to unpack your belongings in the closet. You could hear him move around before he reached for clothes from behind you. You could feel the steam from his skin and his breath on your neck as he paused to look down at your timid figure which got even timid-er when he trapped you between your arms, leaning closer to you.

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath as you felt Charles lips ghost on the skin on your neck. A gasp left your mouth as you felt his hands trail down your chest and hips. "Charles." His name left your tongue like a prayer.

"Please." "You want me?" "I need you." You pleaded, trying to lean back into his body only for him to pull away. "You want me?" "I do. I need you." You begged again, feeling shame flow through your body as you breathed out the words.

"Char . . . les?" You felt him pull away with a scoff. Your face reddened with embarrassment as you heard him dress before taking his leave.

"You've finally done it." You mumbled to yourself stepping in the shower. From going to begging for you to rejecting you. This marriage was dead wasn't it? With a quick shower and tidy up, you collapsed on the not taken bed, staying there for the rest of the night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hehe, look at you!" "Me? Your face is basically- AMOUR!" Charles could feel his faint shouting and your giggling as he gently closed the hotel door after him. He kicked his shoes off before slowly taking strides to your non-moving blanket-covered figure.

He could see the light from the screen under the blanket, colors and figures moving. "Charles!" "Stay still- Y/N! Stop pulling- Y/N!" Your giggles and laughs filled his ears as he gently pulled the blanket to reveal the old digital flip screen camera playing videos from its files.

He could see his younger self trying to pull you closer from your jaw, trying to reach your lips and when he did he kissed you deeply, not wasting the chance to make out with you.

"You know I love you, cheri?" "Oh?" Your drunk voice sounded through the room. "You're so sweet carli-" Charles took the camera, shutting it off with an angry huff.

His eyebrows furrowed. He looked down at you ready to give you a scowl or a scolding only to find you sleeping, far away in dreamland. His shoulders relaxed as he admired you.

What happened? He kept thinking. It was not your fault you said these words. You were frustrated and confused. Heck you were a Seventeen year old, who woke up from a nap to find herself 7 years in the future in a 25 year-olds life and with her expectations.

"I'm sorry." He found himself murmuring quietly, the bed dipping as he sat next to you, gently brushing your messy hair from your face.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"JESUS!" You stomped angrily, ripping your helmet and balaclava off. "Calm down, Y/N." "Don't tell me to calm down! You yourself said it was bad."

"No no, Y/N." Your mechanic tried to hold you back only for you to shove your helmet in his chest. "LANDO!" You called the British out and you approached his garage. "What the fuck was that?! Huh? Are we playing bumper cars?"

Lando sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked out, ready to shut you up. "You're making a scene." He scolded you, taking your arm to pull you somewhere private. "I am! That was crazy. You're crazy."

"Why do you care?" He stopped in his tracks, looking you straight in your eyes. "You crashed Charles out? He's in the hospital? He's my husband? You hurt my husband." I argued, not being able to stand him.

"He's not your husband." your eyes widened at his statement. "He's Y/N's husband. He's my best friend's husband. I don't know where she is but I'm definitely not looking at her."

You clenched your jaw and fists, glaring at him as he walked away. You took long strides in the other direction.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Fuck!" You screamed in your car over and over again as you parked at the hotel. You just wished you were back in f3, you wish this was all a nightmare, a bad dream and you'd wake up any second now and score p19 in that damn race.

Lando was right, you weren't Y/N. Nothing that you had was yours, you shouldn't have any of it all. You shouldn't even be here.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Again?" Charles grumbled, looking around the empty hotel room. Your things were here, but you were nowhere to be found. "Fucking hell Y/N." He cussed, going down the hall to look for you. You might've been at Lando's or Max's?

Neither. One had shrugged and told Charles he last saw you with Lando and the other told him that he last had a fight with you before you walked off. Great.

your things were here but you weren't. Maybe you were on a run? Yes, that must be it. You were just running your stress off, like you always do right? Charles waited. and waited. and waited. it was 4am, he was laying in your bed, his arm in the sling hurting and his eyes burning from lack of sleep.

Great. fucking great—

creak

and there you were, standing at the door, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. "Y/N, what the actual fuck?!" You flinched, looking up scared as he stomped over. You were ready for a scolding or for him to should, or hit you even. but you were instead pulled into his chest by his one good arm.

"Where the fuck have you been." ok he did scold you, but you still felt better in his arms. so you stayed there, hugging him for the rest of the morning. "your arm—" "fucking fine. just— SHH!" you stayed quiet, letting him nuzzle in your neck and caress your head.

"Where?" "Drive?" "Why?" "Needed to clear my head." "All night?" "Mhm." you nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Text me then." "I did?"

You did. Take a guess on who blocked his number. "Sorry." "Just— dont fucking run off like that. It scares the shit out of me."

[skeefee-sky]

'Song of Memory.'

@thunder-tober Day prompt: 23- Song Characters: Virgil Tracy, Thunderbird Two Word count: 585

Everyone has a song that reminds them of a loved one that’s passed, or one they associate with that person – their song. Haven’t mentioned the song in particular; gonna leave that up to reader’s interpretation <3 During a maintenance check, Thunderbird Two asks Virgil about the song he’s humming. She finds out it has deeper meaning than she thought.

💙💚TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB 💚💙

“What are you humming?”

Virgil had expected the question by now. He’d make some sort of musical noise to pass the time during maintenance. And his Thunderbird would always inquire the melodies. He personally loved her curiosities in music, one day promising to play her a few tunes from the piano.

“Just a song…” he started, glimpsing over one of the scans as he walked past.

“Captain, it’s not ‘just a song’,” Thunderbird Two lightly poked. She had been listening; it definitely wasn’t just all that. Virgil softly scoffed.

“If you’d let me finish… It’s, just a song I used to listen to with my mother… It’s her song.”

The Thunderbird quietened at that, softening her engines as best she could out of courtesy. She hadn’t quite been expecting that answer... She hadn’t heard much about the boys’ mother – they rarely spoke about her at all. But she did know they’d all been fairly young when she had passed. Being a machine, Thunderbird Two didn’t quite understand the feeling of loss, but she had to imagine it hurt something awful…

“Sorry…”

“You’re fine, Two,” Virgil reassured, a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he paced her module. “I know I… we don’t talk about her as much as we do Dad but, we definitely should. I feel like, some of us are starting to forget her…”

He turned to input a few details into the monitor behind him, frowning at some of the data already on the screen. Well that was something he’d have to get Brains to check later… Fingers swiftly moved as he typed, and he started to hum again unconsciously.

“It sounds like it’s a sad song…” Thunderbird Two spoke up suddenly, softly. She didn’t mean to keep interrupting him; she wanted to hear the whole song out. But, something felt different about this song, and know that she knew it related to his mother, her curiosity was getting the best of her. Unnatural for a ship, but not a Thunderbird.

“Can you, tell me some things about her? Your mother?”

Virgil lifted his hands from the keys, breath caught in his throat as he paused. He then swiftly put in another command and moved away from the monitor, leaning up against the side of the module as he exhaled.

“She’s who encouraged my musical talent, you know… She’d be at the piano at any given opportunity, plunking for inspiration or playing a few notes of a song,” he started, tilting his head back a little as he spoke. “This song in particular, it was by one of her favourite artists. She taught herself the piano track to it, and would sing it to us before she tucked us into bed. It’s, not so much sad, as it is, reflective, in a way.”

Thunderbird Two listened intently, playing the song silently along her processor so she could try and picture what her pilot described. She could only imagine…

“I’d sit with her when she played; sometimes John was with us… She taught me right-hand, then left, but for some reason I struggled so much to put it together at first.” The laugh that left her pilot’s lips had the Thunderbird rumbling softly. He didn’t have to, but she was glad she’d gotten him talking. The conversations they had between each other during her maintenance checks did always seem to make them go faster.

“Maybe… Maybe I can play it for you one day, Thunderbird Two…”

“I’d like that, captain… Thank you.”

[pianotunerwolverhampton]

Fine Tuning and Regulation maintenance on an excellent 1930s George Rogers Grand Piano in Himley, Dudley, Staffordshire

#himley #dudley #rogers #grandpiano #music #pianotuner #pianotuning #pianist #piano #georgerogers

[unproblematickingcharlieswan]

Bella Swan Was A Rich Bitch

I’m slowly making my way through the Twilight series for the first time since 2009 and I have a lot of thoughts. Here are some: 

Bella claims she grew up poor. I disagree. I think she grew up at the very least middle class for the USA, despite being raised by a single mother.

(We all know Charlie paid that child support on time.) 

Firstly, she grew up in a house, which her mother seems to own, as there is no mention of a landlord or paying rent. 

Renée even leaves this property unattended for months on end while she lives in another state with her husband, Phil. When Bella returns to the house at the end of Twilight, it’s empty, so Renée didn’t need to rent it out during her absence and, presumably, simply owns two different properties simultaneously. 

She’s even still paying the electric and phone bills, as Bella can turn on the lights and use the phone although the house has been empty for months. (p. 476)

This house, I imagine, had more than one bathroom, as sharing a bathroom with a parent is embarrassing to Bella. 

When describing Charlie’s house, Bella says, “There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.” (p. 9)

She finds it foreign and off-putting to share a bathroom with someone, to the point that she keeps all her toiletries in a bag that she stores in her bedroom, and brings the bag with her to the bathroom whenever she goes. She is described doing this multiple times over the course of the book. 

The book takes place c. 2005, and Bella has a computer with internet access. She accepts these as given, rather than privileges.  “The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily.” (p. 9)

The author repeatedly uses the marker “secondhand” to insinuate Bella’s relative poverty, but the mere fact she has a computer of her own, as well as home internet access, sets her apart from truly socioeconomically disadvantaged kids. 

Bella participated in at least one extra-curricular activity as a child. 

And a very expensive one at that: ballet. (p. 454)

Come on.

Bella and her mother have a piano.

“I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn’t really good—she only played for herself on our secondhand upright—but I loved to watch her play.” (p. 351)

The author makes a point of mentioning it’s an upright piano (cheaper than a grand) and that it’s secondhand. However, unless the piano came with their house, they would have had to pay for the piano itself (often several thousand dollars for a used upright) as well as to transport it to their home (professional transportation of pianos can also cost several thousand dollars). Pianos require maintenance/tuning (usually a couple hundred dollars per tuning session), which are additional costs. Unlike a ukulele or a fife, a piano is not a cheap instrument to own or play and there are more than upfront costs. 

Her mother has nice clothes, and pays to maintain them. 

Bella’s mother e-mails her asking whether she knows where her pink blouse is. Bella responds, “Your blouse is at the dry cleaners—you were supposed to pick it up Friday.” (p. 34)

Dry cleaning a blouse implies that not only it is made from an expensive material (silk, chiffon, linen, suede, leather, etc.), but also that the owner has the monetary resources, time, and transportation to bring it to a dry cleaner and pay someone to clean it for them. 

Bella doesn’t bother to bring most of her clothes with her when she moves to Forks. 

“I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.” (p. 5)

It seems odd to me that Bella never thought about layering her lighter clothing in Washington, particularly because this was written in the early 2000s. I think the “my mom and I had pooled our resources” line is an attempt by the author to demonstrate they don’t have money to buy her new clothes, however, when she gets to Forks, Bella has enough pocket money to consider doing some shopping on a trip to Seattle later in the book. (p. 160)

Bella, who notoriously feels guilty about everything, goes to the hospital twice in Twilight, including for several days at the end of the book, but never worries about how much it will all cost her family. 

She suffered life-threatening bleeding and broken bones (leg, ribs, and skull), and was admitted for several nights. I’ve never lived in the USA but the internet tells me this is extremely expensive. She isn’t remotely worried about it.

Bella doesn’t have a job, but she has money.   

She’s 17 and unemployed, so I’m not sure where it comes from. An allowance? But an allowance is only possible if parents have wealth to spare. 

In all her reminiscing about Arizona, Bella doesn’t so much as recall a babysitting gig. So where do her funds come from? The only time she uses Charlie's money is to pay for groceries.

“I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn’t had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn’t cost me quite a bit in the gas department.” (p. 84)

She doesn’t get a job until New Moon, but she planned on using her own money to buy a car and fuel it without even considering applying for a job in Twilight (and we know every thought that goes through her head). Further, unlike any truly poor kid, she doesn't seem to consider walking or cycling options despite living in a small town (I assume a community the size of Forks would not have a robust public transportation system).

She eats at restaurants, considers clothing and book shopping, etc., without any care about paying for anything. She is supposed to be a conscientious girl who made sure her mother’s bills were paid, so if money were an issue, we should expect her to think about it.

TL;DR

Bella wasn’t poor. Renée wasn’t poor. Charlie wasn’t poor. 

The author was certainly never poor. 

[locustandwildhoney]

Random Jacob Seed Headcanons

off the cuff, not checked, all in good fun.

Jacob Seed can actually carry a tune, but his voice is really gravelly and the only time he's ever sung in front of another person was when he was really drunk during his military days. He can also play the piano (was taught by another cultist, when the cult was in its early days.)

Jacob is really bad at being a handyman, cannot even construct ikea furniture. I'm sorry to disappoint everybody. Poor man just... can't. He is, however, good at basic car maintenance, so at least someone can change the oil for you if you need. He'll even grumpily teach you how to do it yourself.

Jacob hates sitting still, he can't sit still. He carries a clipboard around for paperwork purposes because he can't sit at his desk for more than an hour unless its for reviewing tactical reports.

He gets in manic moods, similar to his brothers. He will pace around any room he's in for hours either muttering to himself as he makes plans or he'll make extreme eye contact with whoever is with him and he'll monologue about anything that's racing through his head. Exercise is the only thing that can stave it off for a while. He also has depressive episodes.

He talks about his time in the military a lot. Honestly, for a kid like him, military service was a lifesaver that saved him from self destructing when he was fresh out of juvie. Food, his own bed, knowing when it was time to relax vs time to move? 'Made him strong'

If you are in a relationship with him, he can, and will pick you up at random. Unsuspecting, you'll think you're safe, you are not. He excuses it by saying he's testing your "awareness of your surroundings"

He refuses to admit he loves soft affection. Hand holding, bringing him easy food to eat, playing with his hair, reminding him to stretch when he's working. He's never had that, it feels alien to him at first but he gets used to it and gets a little mournful when you're not around.

Sticks to the schedule, no matter what. Come hell or high water, he will stick to his routine if it kills him.

Needs to feel useful and necessary, if he finds out about stuff happening without his knowledge and you didnt ask if he wanted to join or help (moving boxes, heavy lifting of any kind, manly maintenance work, etc.) he gets a little antsy and refuses to admit he's dejected.

Basically a big dog who wants to be necessary, please help him. Let him carry heavy objects for you. Let him fuck up ikea furniture construction. His love language is straight up acts of service.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Contagion

It was a rare quiet period for International Rescue, and its operatives were all making good on the unexpected free time.

Maintenance had been caught up on. Household chores were completed by human hands, to the exacting standards of Grandma Tracy, and now they had all scattered to pursue personal projects.

John, having elected to remain on Thunderbird Five, was in deep contemplation of the beauty of the cosmos, via the satellites’ state of the art telescope. Alan was chasing down a league record speed-run of a notably tricky game level. Grandma Tracy was pottering in the small, and largely neglected, flower garden. Kayo did yoga. Brains dusted off a pet project left over from his college days. Gordon had taken Thunderbird Four on a marine wildlife survey expedition in Tracy Island’s surrounds. Scott, having finished a backlog of Tracy Industries paperwork, was now idly spending time in an online chatroom with some old, and much neglected, buddies.

Virgil had drifted, unsettled, from one project to another, before being seized by inspiration, and setting up at the piano to score a piece of music he could hear in his head.

Scott had surreptitiously opened comm channels to Grandma and John, so they could listen as Virgil worked. They both loved the music that Virgil wrote, and listening as he composed brought back bittersweet memories of Lucy doing much the same thing.

So they all heard as Gordon came bounding exuberantly up the stairs into the lounge, whooping excitedly about some rare species of starfish that had apparently chosen to set up shop in their vicinity.

“Hey, Virge! You writing some music there? Great! I hope it’s catchy, ‘cause I’ve spent the last three hours with the ‘Pink Panther’ theme stuck in my head! I need something to dislodge it.”

Only Scott saw the expression on Virgil’s face, but Grandma and John heard as the piano tune slammed to an abrupt halt with a crashing of achromatic chords. The anguish in Virgil’s voice as he snarled at Gordon, “Why. Would. You. Say. That. I. Was. In. The. Middle. Of. Something. And. Now. It’s. Gone!”, was enough for them to abandon their projects and start heading to intercept.

Gordon’s self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he high-tailed his way out of the lounge, Virgil in enraged pursuit.

Scott sat for a long moment, trying to massage away an impending headache. Gordon screaming followed by a bellow from Virgil, was enough to have him out of his seat, and setting off after his brothers.

Humming the theme from the ‘Pink Panther’.

Notes:

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

And yes, I have ‘accidentally’ transmitted this particular ear-worm by simply announcing that I had it stuck in my head.

[vanguardpiano]

Vanguard Piano Service | Piano Repair Service Kansas city

Professional Piano Technicians In Saint Louis, Kansas City, and surrounding areas.

[senjuushi]

Assorted Lines — Mikhael

((Since Mikhael was released after I'd done these for the other guns, he gets his own post! o3o Piano man is very cute... Unfortunately, his third "Low Spirits" line wasn't available, so the post will be without it for now.))

. . .

Visiting

Mikhael: Ah... it’s you. Would you please change the bandages? Mine, I mean. I need to compose a song from the idea that struck me when I heard your voice.

Present Reactions

Favorite (Bond 50+): This is... heheh. I’m glad to have you as a Master. Such a beautiful air to it... 

Like (Bond 30+): Hmmm... not bad. I can’t say it’s ideal, but it’s worth accepting, at least

Neutral (Bond 10+): Non... this isn’t beautiful at all. I need have a talk with you about your tastes. Come, now.

Maintenance (Unlock)

Mikhael: Hey, you. I want you to work with my gun. My hands exist to play music... Do yours exist to care for our guns, I wonder?

Maintenance (Completion)

Mikhael: The rhythm your fingers create... is pleasant. You should try playing the piano as well.

Gifts From Musketeers (25 Interactions)

Mikhael —> Cutlery (Yellow and White Bouquet)

Mikhael: When I perform outside, I often receive flowers. At this rate, the room will overflow... Would you please give this to Cutlery for me?

Cutlery: Woah, this is from Mikhael...!? Awesome! Mikhael’s room is always full of flowers. If I decorate my room with them too, we’ll match!

Gifts From Musketeers (100 Interactions)

Mikhael: Hey, you. I’m quite certain you’ll be pleased with this; was I correct?

((A share of strawberries from Mikhael))

First Acquisition

Mikhael: I am Mikhael. Will you give us love? ...heheh. Now, shall we play some piano? I would like to listen to your melody.

Occupational Experience (Start)

Mikhael: I’m to work? Whatever for? ...could I perhaps ask one of my fans to do it in my place?

Occupational Experience (End)

Mikhael: Aah, a good tune just came into my mind... I must hurry back and play it.

Present from Musketeer

Mikhael: Here, for you. I received it just there, but I’m tired of holding onto it.

Low Spirits

1: Things that obscure the clear melodies of humans disgust me. I don’t want to exist in a world where such unpleasant sounds are formed...

2: Aah, my piano... where is it...? Why must I have times when I am separated from it...?

3: ((N/A))

After Encouragement

Mikhael: Aah, thanks to you, I’ve thought of an excellent melody... I must go play it at once. You’ll be coming as well, won’t you? You’ll listen from the best seat.

[texaspianorestoration]

High Quality Piano Cleaning Dallas | Texas Piano Restoration

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[resonantpianotuning]

Piano Tuner

A piano tuner is a skilled professional who specialises in adjusting and maintaining the tuning of pianos. Their primary responsibility is to ensure that the piano produces clear and accurate sounds by adjusting the tension of its strings. This is achieved through a process called tuning, which involves using a variety of tools and techniques to fine-tune each string to the correct pitch. Piano tuners also perform regular maintenance tasks, such as cleaning the piano's interior and exterior, replacing worn-out parts, and addressing any issues that arise during use. They may also provide advice on how to care for a piano and prevent damage to its delicate mechanisms. So if you are looking for paino tuner at a reasonable price, you can visit our website.

[walker-extended-universe]

This Old Song and Dance

Ship: August Walker/Sadie Yoo

Tags/Warnings: Wild West AU, Flirting, Social Expectations, Dancing, Piano

Summary: In which Sadie is a dancer, August plays the piano, and there's a routine they know all too well. It's a routine they perform every night, even when Sadie isn't onstage.

Written for @yeehawgust Week 3 Prompt 15: Desert Rose

Taglist: @ihavepointysticks, @theladywyn, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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Sadie wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the full moon but the hotel was lively tonight and she and her dancers weren’t even on stage yet. “Got quite a crowd out there. Stay sharp, ladies.” There was a general “No Touching” rule in place but she knew very well how a little too much liquid courage could make even the finest member of the community forget his manners and the owner of the hotel wasn’t always inclined to step in. She double-checked where her knife was held in her garters and practiced her smile one last time before they were called out.

It was all the same song and dance. A full house of leering men that were perhaps a little too close for comfort. A jaunty tune on the piano to keep the energy up and the drinks flowing. Practiced choreography almost going to waste since the audience is just looking for a shoulder shake and a too-high flip of a skirt. 

And then it was time to mingle. None of the girls were expected to do anything, but men were more than happy to buy drinks for them. Sadie hated this part of the night the most. The wandering hands, the lingering looks, the unwanted advances…. If she could get away with stabbing a few eyes out, half the men in town would be blind. Instead, she smiled and counted the money she’d be getting on her next paycheck. Most men knew how to back off when her smile faded and her fingernails dug into their arm.

But there was always one.

“Don’t be shy, darlin’. Just one night.”

“No, I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Oh, come now. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“She said no, Sean.”

Sadie couldn’t help but smirk a bit. August knew very well that she could take care of herself; all the girls could. But he always stepped in when the crowd got too rowdy, the men too demanding. It was sweet, if unnecessary.

Sean grumbled something about just asking and wandered to the other side of the bar. August turned to Sadie, face melting from stern to concerned. “Are you okay, Miss Yoo?”

She chuckled. “Just fine, Mister Walker. Say, when are we closing?”

“Another hour or two, Miss.”

This was another song and dance. August “rescuing” her when she didn’t ask, checking up on her periodically for the rest of the night, and closing up a little early if she asked so the girls could get home and Sadie could get comfortable. He didn’t own the place but his family was good friends with the owner, Ms. Broussard, so his word was as good as law whenever she wasn’t around (which was often at night). If Sadie took advantage of that every now and then, that was just compensation for poor working conditions.

After the hotel closed, Sadie changed into something more comfortable before going back downstairs for the next song and dance. A soft piano melody drifted up the stairwell and she practically danced to it on her way down. August’s main role was technically maintenance but he played the piano for their shows and he told her in secret one night that he had aspirations of being a “real musician”. Sometimes he shared his music with her. Sounded like it was one of those nights.

“That sounds new,” she said as she descended the last steps. “Something you’re working on?”

August glanced up from the keys, the lamplight just barely revealing his blush. “Uh, yeah. I- I got inspired recently….”

Sadie smiled and sat on the bench next to him. “Yeah? Inspired by what?”

He stopped playing just long enough to make a note on his sheet music. “You,” he said softly, voice almost covered by the scratch of pencil on paper.

“Mister Walker, are you telling me you wrote me a song?” she teased.

His blush darkened. “Well…yes.”

“What’s it called?”

“Uh…. My Desert Rose.”

“Poetic.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Play it for me?”

He nodded, flipping back to the beginning of his sheet music and starting to play. Once he got past the first page, once he started to play confidently, she left his side and danced on the stage. Just for a moment, she let herself live in a world where this was the only song and dance she had a part to play in. Just her, her lover, and their music. No more leering outlaws, no more just scraping by, no more lingering stares from people who didn’t understand why a “good boy” like him would love a foreign outcast like her. Just them and the piano and her steps.

He came up to her room that night, and they danced to a different song until the light of dawn broke through her window.

[musicinstrumentsins]

The Key Differences of Dedicated Piano and Home Insurance

From the soulful melodies of Beethoven to the contemporary tunes of Adele, the piano has remained a timeless instrument. It is a true embodiment of musical prowess and emotional resonance. For many, it is not just an instrument but a cherished possession—an investment requiring protection. In this pursuit, the question often arises: should one rely on home insurance or opt for dedicated piano insurance to protect their beloved device?

The Melodic Coverage of Home Insurance

Home insurance serves as a safety net for our homes and their possessions. It typically covers a range of items, including furniture, appliances, and some personal belongings, often extending protection against theft and damage from natural disasters or accidents. In this comprehensive coverage lies the inclusion of musical instruments, such as the piano, string, woodwind, etc.

However, the coverage under home insurance might be limited and may not adequately protect your musical masterpiece. While policies can vary, most standard home insurance plans might offer only basic coverage for the piano. It usually covers damage or loss caused by fire, theft, or certain natural calamities specified in the policy. Therefore, you should think twice before relying on your home insurance policy for your musical paraphernalia.

The Unique Cadence of Dedicated Piano Insurance

Enter the standalone insurance policy for all things musical. It is a specialized coverage designed explicitly for musical instruments. Unlike the broad coverage of home insurance, dedicated musical instrument insurance is tailored specifically to address the nuanced needs of pianos, considering factors like maintenance, repairs, theft, and even damage during transit or while in use during performances.

This specialized insurance often offers a more comprehensive protection plan. It may cover a wider range of incidents, including accidental damage, damage due to mishandling during transportation, and, in some cases, even coverage for maintenance and tuning. Standalone plans also cover your musical instrument across the globe. It is one of the greatest sighs of relief for musical instrument owners, especially those who travel a lot with their gear.

Key Factors to Consider

Here are the key factors to consider:

Coverage Limits: Home insurance might have a cap on coverage for individual items, including pianos. Dedicated equipment insurance, on the other hand, might offer higher coverage limits, ensuring the full value of your instrument is protected.

Specific Perils: While home insurance may cover common perils like fire or theft, dedicated insurance for musical devices can include protection against accidental damages, humidity or temperature-related issues, and damage during performances or while being moved.

Value Consideration: Pianos, especially high-end or antique ones, might not be adequately covered under standard home insurance due to their high value. A dedicated insurance plan for pianos can provide coverage that better aligns with the instrument's actual value.

Exclusions and Deductibles: Reading the fine print is crucial. Home insurance might have exclusions or higher deductibles for musical instruments, while dedicated insurance policies often offer more tailored terms.

Making the Right Choice

Deciding between home insurance and dedicated musical equipment insurance necessitates an understanding of your piano's value, how and where it's used, and the level of protection desired. For a casual player with a standard piano, home insurance might suffice. However, professional musicians, collectors, or owners of high-value or rare pianos would find a dedicated insurance policy for the piano more fitting.

Conclusion

A piano transcends being a mere possession. It is a vessel of creativity, emotion, and heritage. Safeguarding this musical marvel warrants careful consideration. While home insurance might offer a safety net, the tailored protection of dedicated piano insurance provides a harmonious blend of comprehensive coverage, ensuring that the symphony of your piano remains untouched by unforeseen mishaps.

In the end, the choice between home insurance and standalone musical instrument insurance should revolve around the instrument's value, its significance in your life, and the peace of mind you seek in preserving its melodic legacy.