#box is pretty standard four corners and a lid

[free-pancakes]

the commander’s voice

LeviHan - a canonverse oneshot

Characters: Levi, Hange, Onyankopon, Jean, Armin, Sasha, Mikasa

Summary: Onyankopon gifts Hange a vinyl record player from Marley, and Levi uses it to help the dear Commander find a small moment of respite among her stressful duties.

Notes: Hange has been really sad lately in the anime, so here's a happy Hange oneshot. The song Hange sings is called “Mrs." by Leon Bridges

crossposted to AO3

The Commander’s Voice

Hange gripped her fingers gently around small cup of tea in her hands—she smiled softly as the warmth caressed her fingertips and the earthy aroma tickled her nose. She took a small sip, and stole a quick glance at Levi, searching for signs of his approval.

A tiny flicker in his warm, grey eyes signaled his liking. To everyone else in the room, Levi maintained an unreadable glare, but Hange knew better. She playfully tapped his foot with her own, with a sly smile plastered on her face. Levi returned the gesture with a swift kick to her shin.

Hange was already accustomed to arguing under the table like this, and quickly bit her tongue to keep herself from yelping out in pain. She quietly grumbled as he smirked behind the cup he held up to his lips. He hated when she could see right through him like that—but he supposed it wasn’t an entirely bad skill for someone around here to have.

“Is it up to your standards, Levi? It’s only the finest tea from Marley! I only have a few boxes stashed away with me.” Onyankopon looked towards Levi earnestly for a reaction, but per usual, his genuine friendliness was met with a blank stare. Hange had convinced Onyankopon to share the tea with their little group today, hoping it would convince Levi to trust their allies a bit more, and she panicked at Levi's seemingly negative reaction.

“No, no, Onyankopon, Levi thinks it’s delightful! Thank you for sharing it with us,” Hange said with a bright smile.

Happy conversation buzzed around them in the large tent, but their table was jarringly silent. Hange, Levi, Jean, Armin, and Onyankopon had a long day of planning their strategies moving forward, but since they finished earlier than expected, they thought they’d sit together, talk, and relax a bit. Sitting and relaxing clearly wasn’t an issue, but maybe they had too little in common to really have a casual chat.

The silence gripped fiercely at Hange’s sides, and it felt as though it was trying to squeeze words out of her— it was absolutely unbearable. She had to break the silence, and at least attempt to get these socially incompetent fools to talk to each other.

“Hey Onyankopon, can you possibly tell me the name of this song? I kept hearing it play on one of your comrade’s radios a few weeks ago!” Hange closed her eyes as she tried to remember the melody, and she flawlessly hummed the tune, filling in a few lyrics that she could recall here and there. The sound resonated in her chest, and the tenseness in her shoulders relaxed as singing this song made her ridiculously happy. She wondered if it was the song that made her feel that way or if it was simply the person that seemed to permeate her thoughts whenever she hummed it to herself while working alone in her office.

She opened her eyes, and cocked her head to the side in confusion at the sight. All of Onyankopon’s Marleyan comrades around them were turned, facing their table, all eyes on her. Armin turned to look at Jean, whose jaw dropped at the sound of Hange singing, and nudged him. “Jean, come on, you’re making the Commander uncomfortable.”

“What? Levi, what is everyone—“ she shifted in her seat, embarrassed at the sudden and unwavering attention on her. Before she could see Levi’s reaction, he was standing up, glaring at everyone in the room. “Oi, what are all you nosy scumbags staring at? Have some respect for the Commander,” he hissed with a threatening tone, evoking fear in all the people in the room. The sound of talking and commotion resumed quickly, maybe even louder than before as no one wanted to further anger the formidable Levi Ackerman.

“Wait hold on a second, why did everyone just—“

“It’s because you have a beautiful voice, Hange-san, I don’t think any of us have ever heard you sing before actually…” Armin whispered softly, with a bashful, yet encouraging smile on his face.

Hange felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands, twiddled her thumbs, and let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I um, sorry. I guess I don’t usually do that...in public. My apologies.”

Onyankopon gently touched Hange’s hand—“I know exactly what song you referenced. Here, how about you all go get some sleep, and I’ll give you something special regarding the song in the morning, okay?” He gave her a reassuring look, and Hange felt more at ease. They saluted each other, and four Paradisians retreated to their tents for the night.

————- “Hange-san, here you go—It’s all ready for you!” Onyankopon held a large, box-shaped device in his hands, along with what looked like colorful cardboard envelopes on top of it. He set it down on the table as Hange, Armin, Levi, and Jean hovered around it.

Hange and Armin bent down to observe the object closely, opening its lid to reveal a flat surface with a small spoke in the middle, and a metal arm jutting across with a small needle on its end. The two eyed each other, both utterly fascinated at the intricate device.

“This here is a vinyl record player, and I picked out a few songs along with the one you told us about last night. I marked that one, and wrote out the lyrics for you!” he exclaimed with a grin.

Hange’s eyes glowered at the wonderful gift, and couldn’t help but give him a warm hug.

Levi walked towards the two, inserting his arm between them, cutting their embrace short. “Okay it’s time to go, Commander,” Levi said curtly as he guided her shoulder towards the horses.

“Levi, wait it’s still early, we have a lot of time to—“

“Until next time, Onyankopon,” he muttered with a glare and gave a half-hearted salute. He grumbled as he hurried Hange away, while she tried to wave back at Onyankopon. Armin and Jean looked at each other trying to stifle laughter at the scene—Armin took the record player and vinyls, and nodded at Onyankopon. “Sorry about that sir, I assume you already know how that goes...”

“Yeah, the Captain’s pretty protective over Hange-san, isn’t he?”

“Yeah you could say that,” Jean said with a small laugh. He waved goodbye, and the two hurried towards the horses, as it seemed Levi and Hange were already set to leave.

————- Levi sipped at the tea Onyankopon sent them home with. He sat alone at a table, listening to the 104th crew talk and laugh animatedly a few tables away, bickering and yelling as they finished up their dinner. He hated to admit how relaxed he felt seeing them having fun like that—it reminded him a lot of how he, Hange, Erwin, Mike, and Nanaba used to be with each other years ago. He sighed and stood up with purpose—Hange skipped dinner again. He brought a sandwich with him as he silently slipped out of the mess hall and made his way to the Commander’s office.

He saw the glowing light spilling into the hallway through the slightly cracked-open door, and pushed it—he was met with bright light, both literally and figuratively. He looked at Hange busy writing, not even noticing him walk in and close the door.

He gently slid the sandwich towards her, and she slightly jumped in her seat, startled. “You gotta warn me when you walk in sometimes, yknow??”

“Eat, and meet me outside. The usual spot.”

“I have a lot of work to finish up! I don’t think I can take a break right now—“

Levi placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, his eyes softening as he stared into hers. She returned his gaze, and he didn’t need to say a word for her to understand. She gave in.

“Okay, fine, fine. You’re right. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken a step back, hasn’t it...”

————- Hange stepped out into the clearing behind the barracks, the light of the moon melting over the cover the trees and illuminating the blades of grass beneath her feet. She heard a small scratching noise, and suddenly...music played. She turned the corner and saw Levi sitting on the ground with the record player. She skipped over happily and knelt down next to him. “Isn’t it amazing? You don’t have to wait on the radio for a song you like to play! You can just play the same song you like, over and over again whenever you want.” She stared at the spinning vinyl excitedly, and Levi looked at her, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. After they listened to the one song, Levi picked up the other vinyls—“Hey, so which one of these was the song you sang to us that night, the one that got that whole damn room staring at you?” Hange smiled shyly and felt herself blush. She reached over and pulled the specific record from the pile in Levi’s hands.

Inside the barracks, Jean, Armin, and Sasha walked down the back hallway on the second floor, exhausted. Suddenly, they heard...music? Jean and Armin made eye contact, and ran towards the sound. “Hey, wait up! What’s going on??” Sasha yelled. The two barged into the room where the sound was echoing through the loudest. Mikasa was sitting on her bed, folding her clothes calmly, unphased by the two breaking in. She gave them both a mostly blank stare, but a tiny hint of a questioning lingered in her gaze.

“Hey, rude! Dont just go barging into our room like that!”

“Shut up, Sasha! Listen!” Jean whispered aggressively. The calming sound filled the room through their window facing the clearing among the trees behind the barracks.

“Onyankopon said that sound is one of something called... an electric guitar?” Armin said quietly. The wonderful sound made them oddly want to sway, along with the mellow, waltzing backbeat of the drums underlying this so-called electric guitar.

“Hange-san sung this song to us at our last meeting with the ally Marleyans.”

“She...sang?” Mikasa asked, almost confused at the idea of Hange singing.

“Hold on, listen, listen!” Jean said in a hushed tone. The four of them pressed their faces up against the window, and spotted the Commander and Captain standing together out in the grass below, their figures shrouded by the white glow of the full moon.

“You really like the tea, and the record player. It was genuinely kind of him to share that with us—so why can’t you trust our allies?” Hange asked, an innocently questioning look in her eyes.

“You never know, Hange. It’s good to be a bit skeptical of them for now. But, let’s forget about that.” She felt Levi’s fingers search her skin for the ties of her medal, a symbol of her role as the Commander. He untied it, slipped it off from her neck, and placed it gently into the grass next to the record player.

“Tonight, you’re relieved of your Commander duties. Right now, you’re just Hange.” Hange lost herself in the soft grey sea dancing in his eyes, and fought back tears at Levi’s gesture, his attempt to help her feel like... feel like Hange again. The Commander role often seemed to strip her of the privilege to be simply, and unapologetically, herself.

He took her left hand, interlaced his fingers in hers, and gently placed his other hand behind her right hip. He slowly pulled her close, and she closed her eyes, finally relaxed from her duties, nearly melting in his embrace. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, and he felt even, puffs of breath from her nose on his skin—keeping him warm in the cool night breeze. He swayed her back and forth, and she followed his lead.

“Why do you like this song, anyway?”

“Because... the lyrics make me think of us a bit, Levi.”

His eyes widened at her words, and he wanted to listen closer now—and suddenly he had an idea.

“Can you sing it to me?”

Hange lifted her head abruptly, staring straight into Levi’s face. “So you did like my singing! I was wondering about that—sad I didn’t get to see your reaction.”

He was relieved she didn’t see his face in that moment—he had never felt so vulnerable. Her singing made his knees weak.

“Hmph. It wasn’t bad, four-eyes.”

The four watched the two start dancing, and when the sound of Hange quietly singing reached Sasha and Mikasa’s room, Sasha squealed in excitement. “Hey Armin, wanna dance too?” She gave him a big, goofy grin, and he agreed with a laugh. Jean turned to Mikasa, bowed slightly and reached out his hand, “May I have this dance, m’lady?” She let out a smile at his dumb little gesture, and took his hand.

They all couldn’t help but smile at the sound of their Commander’s voice along with the calming song as they swayed around the room—it was nice to forget about the weight of the world for a little bit.

She sang the whole song softly into Levi’s ear along with the record, singing one part a little louder than the rest:

“Sometimes I wonder why I went knockin' on your door. Then you come knock, knock, knockin' on mine and I remember—I remember how it felt the first few times. Skin-to-skin before you knew how to get under mine. If we get it, get it right... we'll be together for life.”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and he felt her lips curve into a smile against his skin.

The two heard Jean, Armin, Sasha, and Mikasa's laughter from the only window with the lights on in the barracks.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones enjoying the night,” Hange whispered happily.

Levi smiled. “Hey, can you sing the song again for me?”

“Of course. But only if you join me!” She playfully shoved Onyankopon’s lyric sheet into his chest. Levi grumbled in reluctance, but he gave in.

They let the song replay over and over again as they continued to dance and sing to each other, late into the cool, starry night.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Are You Up For The Challenge? PART 1

Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language

Summary: You and your friend went for comic book store to get some new comics. But without knowing, one single Captain America doll brings them up for a quest.

Author’s Note: This is gonna be good. I just was scrolling through the media and remembered this darn video. So I’m gonna make it.

Love you!

~~~

You and your friend were about to head over to a comic store you saw on your way to the hotel. You two wanted to go after you settled in your hotel room before walking over there. You and your friend loved the Avengers comic books, even though you were adult women, you just loved to read comic books.

“Oh wow, it’s really small,” Jade says, looking around the place. You looked over to the comic books in the corner, seeing a few books before you heard Jade gasp.

“Look, Y/N,” She says, you turned around to see the Captain America doll. You laughed and walked over, “That’s pretty cool,” You reached for it and picked it up.

“Uh, excuse me?” The doll spoke, you yelped and dropped the doll, backing up with Jade. “What the hell?” Jade laughs. “Thanks for dropping me,” It says. You laughed, “Who-?” You picked it up, “I’m sorry, Mr. Captain America... doll.” You looked around to see if anyone was around you and Jade.

“Hey, eyes over here,” You look down to the doll, “I need your help. Are you up for the challenge?” It asks.

“He sounds kind of cute,” You muttered, spinning the doll around to look for some kind of camera. There was a short pause from the doll, “Are you two up for the challenge?”

You look at Jade who just shrugs at you.

“Yes.”

You waited for a response, “So this may look like a standard comic book store, but it’s actually a secret Hydra base. And I need your help to take it down. I need you to look around the room for a code,” You and Jade look around the room. “A four digit code. And time is of the essence.”

“Four digit code? Is he asking for our pin numbers?” Jade jokes, walking around the room. You look up and spot the sign, “Oh. Found it. Hey, cute guy we found it,” You shout into the doll faces.

You raise the doll up to the sign. “It says 1600.”

THE CODE IS 1600

“Now take that code and look for anything else on that sign that might be helpful,” The doll says. You move up to the sign and saw the triangle with a zap on it. “There’s a triangle with a zappy thing on it. That’s the power box, right? Where’s that at?” You asked.

Jade looks around, “Oh! There,” Jade runs over and puts in the code. “What was it, 1600?”

“Yeah. Hey, cute guy we found it. Are we done?” You asked, Jade opens the box and it swings open. Jade yelps.

The words written on the lid was PROVE YOUR WORTH.

“Um, Mr. America, we’re in.”

“Now. One of you is going to have to stick your hand in that hole. And I hope no one has a problem with snakes,” The doll says. You look at Jade who shakes her head immediately. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t dealing with live noodles, okay?”

“Really?” You asked, Jade nods. “Let your man do it,” Jade points at the doll. You look down, knowing you were holding it close. “I’ll do it, here, hold the doll.”

You hand Jade the doll and walked up to the box. You rolled up your sleeve and sighed, “Where’s the store clerk, if I get bitten I’ll sue the man.” You see Jade bite her nail as you reached into the hole, hearing the loud rattles and hisses.

You yelped when a harsh hiss booms in that box. You never pulled your arm out, “Pull out whatever you find in there.” You felt items and you pulled them out of the box, revealing masks and goggles. “What the heck?” You say.

“Suit up,” The doll said. You tossed Jade a mask, “Oh, we are now the Men in Black.”

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s gonna ask us to rob a bank now, are we?”

“You’re gonna have to walk out to the street to find an undercover Hydra operative, so you’re gonna have to very subtly, casually start asking around,”Jade throws on the goggles and poses.

“I feel like I look cute,” She says, you rolled your eyes as you were not happy about wearing these things. “These goggles are squeezing my brain, I can’t think straight. Come on.” You and Jade walk out of the store to the side walk.

“Start asking around,” The doll says. Jade walks up to a man, “Excuse me, sir. Are you a Hydra operative?”

The man shakes his head confusingly. “Jade, stop you look like you’re gonna kidnap them!”

“What? He said ask!” She says.

You threw your arms out, “I think the safest thing to do would be scream, ‘Hail Hydra’,” Your shoulders drop at the sound of the doll’s voice. 

“Jade, give me the dang doll,” You took the doll back, Jade looks around, “I’m gonna scream it.”

“No, Jade!”

“Hail Hydra!” You rubbed your forehead as Jade looks around. “That was good,” The doll says. You look over to see a man in shades walk up to you two.

He slips something into your hand, “Head back to the start.”

“What did he give you?” The doll asks, Jade watched him leave you two at the front of the store. “A flashlight and a Hydra pin,” You said.

“Good work, girls. Head back inside and find where in the store that Hydra emblem could fit.” You and Jade walk into the store again and you ripped off the goggles. “If we put on some tactical suits next, we’re gonna die,” You say.

Jade looks around the room, “Oh, there! Y/N, here!” Jade waves at you so you come over and saw the same hydra marking on the wall. “Okay,” You gave Jade the pin and she puts it right on the spot and a door opens causing you two to yelp and back up.

“God damn it, Cap, you have reflexes what’s going on? You gotta tell us these things!” You said.

“Okay, girls, you’re gonna go through that door and I think the Hydra base is downstairs.” Jade shoves the flashlight into your hands, “I’ll take your boyfriend, you take the flashlight,” She says.

You glare at her before turning on the flashlight, “If I die, I’m haunting your home.” Jade laughs as you two head down the stairs. “I got your boyfriend, don’t worry. Hey, Y/N’s boyfriend, what do we do now?” Jade asked.

You saw the fog at the bottom of the steps and you felt chills run up your spine. The doll never responded. “Hello? Hail hydra? AH!” Jade screams when the light cuts out and you’re in darkness.

“Y/N! HAIL HYDRA!”

“Shut up, Jade!” You said, moving forward. “Hello?” You called.

You heard gentle breathing in front of you before you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders causing you to scream in terror and the lights go on. You see a figure stand in front of you, you quickly backed up and turned away.

The man soon laughs as Jade held the doll up for protection. “Oh my god!” Jade shouts, you turn around to see the man himself, Chris Evans.

Jade laughed, “Chris Evans!” She squeals. “You girls made it!” He says, you hold your hand to your chest. He laughs as he looks at you, “You were one of the first to get that code so quick,” He points at you.

You laughed, “I thought we were gonna die or something. But this better,” You say. Chris laughs, “Come here,” He gestures you for a hug and you got pulled into his chest.

His little belly laughs made you blush, you were so close to him. “You guys did good. I loved how much you two were arguing,” Chris held you by his side as Jade comes in for the next hug.

“Oh, god. That means you heard us say-” You cut yourself off and covered your face. Jade laughs, “She called you cute!” She laughs again, bending over her knees cackling.

Chris laughs, “Hey, it’s okay. I know I’m tough to handle,” He jokes. 

You lightly laughed, “Oh, man. That was pretty fun but kind of sketchy.”

“You guys, I gotta say, are really smart. I think you beat the high score. That had to be like 10 minutes. Maybe even five,” He says. You laughed, “I guess we were skilled. Oh, my god, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We literally came here for Marvel stuff and I was just about to get that doll.”

Chris laughs, “I spooked you guys there. I can’t believe you dropped me.” You all laughed and began to chat more. Chris had the staff who were working on this small escape room showed you the cameras, you all laughing to the video.

You gotten pictures with Chris Evans, he added some different pictures of different poses. You two hugged, stuck your tongues out, whatever, you let him check out the results of them with some laughter. And after that, you gave Chris one last hug along with your friend and you headed back to your hotel.

“I can’t believe we just met Chris Evans. I think he really likes you,” Jade said, throwing herself onto her own bed. You closed the door, “You’re just speaking nonsense now because we met him and you knew I liked him from the beginning don’t get my hopes up.”

“You don’t believe me?” She asked, she pulls out her phone, “I might’ve took some secret photos of you chatting.” You groan, “Jade, why-?”

“Because you two were adorable, you clearly his type. You two are only 6 years apart of age, how could you not date him?”

You pulled out your phone, “I would not because I know he does not like me.” You opened your phone and you saw that you were in your contact app. “Oh, no...”

Jade looks up, “What?”

You scrolled through your contacts and met the name in the ‘C’ section. Chris had added his name and number into your phone. He must’ve gotten the chance to. “He added his phone number into my contacts.”

Jade gasps, “OH MY GOD! You’re gonna have babies-!”

“Jade, stop it, you sound drunk!”

“No, that’s just how I act! You got his number!” She hops off the bed, “You’re gonna send him pictures and all the fun stuff, you’ll love it and he’ll return them back-”

“Jade, stop!” You laughed as she squeal throughout the room. “Can you relax?” Jade takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Sorry.” You sighed as she drops her shoulders.

“Text him.”

~~~~

I’m sorry I had to end it there!

Want a tag? Just ask!

TAGS OF LOVELY PEOPLE: @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @princess-evans-addict​ @ifuseekamyevans​ @lowkeycapsvision​ @mizcaptainphoenix​ @justice-avengers​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​

[bangtanstorytimetheater]

Virtuoso - A MYG Story

CHAPTER ONE

ONE

"We've decided to transfer you to the Chattanooga store."

My manager's words felt like a bad breakup. I felt my heart sink in my chest. This transfer, though unexpected and utterly terrifying, was going to be a huge leap in my career.

The music company I worked for was a small, but very well-respected chain in the tri-state area. I was proud to hold a position there, hosting field trips for elementary-aged children, and helping students demo instruments to find the perfect one. It was a rewarding job that I looked forward to every day, and I was eternally grateful for the opportunity. This transfer would have me leading the new field trip program that the company was getting ready to roll out at the other store.

I had worked at Bangtan Band Box, or BB's as the locals called it, for nearly four years. It was a great place to work, and I had watched business really take off over the time I'd been there. Thanks to a recent year-long renovation project at the store, all of the studios were now equipped with gorgeous new digital pianos and state-of-the-art soundproof walls. Everyone was thrilled with the way it turned out. We even had a grand re-opening block party. Of course, without fail, there was always at least one person who still had a complaint about something.

"The sound on these things just isn't the same. The keys don't feel right. It's not a piano..."

Ninety-two year old Jane Young was the sweetest little lady I had ever met. She was probably the only person at this store whose complaints didn't annoy me. We had grown incredibly close over the past few years I'd worked there. She was a sort of relic, being the very first ever piano teacher to teach lessons at BB's original location. Mrs. Young was the childhood piano teacher of the company CEO, and he had insisted on bringing her onboard when he opened up shop over thirty years ago.

"Jane, I completely understand where you're coming from," I said, reaching out to place my hand over hers on the counter, "They really don't feel the same as acoustic pianos, but admittedly they are pretty nice. At least we'll save a few thousand dollars a year on tuning. And I suppose all we can do at this point is just make the best of it, right?" I smiled, hoping to pull her out of her funk. Jane had been through so much over the years, spending nearly every day of the past three decades in this place, and she was not keen on all the sudden changes.

"You really are wise beyond your years, Faye. I suppose I could at least appreciate the new carpet. That iced tea stain from three years ago will certainly not be missed." she chuckled.

There's the Jane I was hoping to see today,  especially  today. Should I tell her? No, not yet.

The Following Monday

"Faye! How've you been?" Jin flashed his familiar warm smile and casually held up a hand in a lazy wave. He was always so soft spoken, but still cracking quiet jokes that had you in stitches. He'd worked at the Chattanooga BB's for a few years and we'd known each other from district meetings. He was still fairly new to being an assistant manager, but seemed to be pretty comfortable in his position.

"A bit nervous about the sudden change, but I'm looking forward to working with you. Glad that you're here on my first day. Makes it a lot easier, that's for sure." I sighed. Despite years of auditions and stressful interviews in my music career, meeting new people was still sometimes a bit stressful for me.

DING!

This store had a very loud door chime, entirely different from the one at my previous store. It was jarring, making me jump. Jin let out a louder laugh than I had ever heard come from him. I suppose being in his own store, he probably felt more at-ease than when he was attending the stuffy district meetings. It was nice to hear him laugh so genuinely.

"Didn't you guys have a bell like that at your store?" he asked, setting down his keys next to the register and taking off his coat.

"Nope. And I startle easily, so this will take some getting used to I bet."

"Hey man!" I heard a booming, but cheerful-sounding voice from somewhere over my shoulder. I turned to see a beautiful man with warm, honey skin walking towards me, his dusty blue sweater and light blue jeans accentuating his perfect tan. He had just walked in through the front door and was sweeping his wind-blown golden brown hair out of his eyes. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder, covered in happy stickers - rainbow flowers, smiley faces, Korean hearts, and the words HOPE WORLD in big, bubbled letters across the center of the case lid.

He must be a teacher here.

"Hope! Hey, this is our new transfer, Faye Jansen. She just moved here from the Woodland Hills store. Faye, this is Hope." Jin said as he motioned towards the statuesque man in blue who was now standing face to face with me at the counter. Hope flashed me a huge, toothy smile as he carefully dropped his guitar case to the floor next to him and extended his hand to shake mine.

"Pleasure to meet you, Faye. What a nice surprise!" he smiled and squeezed my hand gently, "You can call me Hobi."

Why do I feel a little flustered? Is it warm in here or...?

Nevermind.

"Y-yes. Thank you. The pleasure is all mine. It is wonderful to meet you, Hobi. What instrument do you teach?" I asked, trying to turn the attention away from myself. I had seen the guitar case, so he was obviously a guitar instructor, but I was too flustered to think straight. I wasn't normally shy around anyone, but he was strikingly handsome, in a way I had not seen in real life before, so I almost needed a moment to catch my breath.

He seemed to notice that I was feeling a little flustered, glanced down at the guitar case then back up at me and smiled, seeming a little amused.

"Guitar. I assume you play something as well?" he asked, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of the clear plastic messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"I studied classical voice in college, but I also play oboe and piano. I did all the demos for the field trips at the Woodland Hills BB's." I was proud of what I did, but I wasn't trying to sound too proud. Musicians can take perceived cockiness to be a huge turn-off.

"Ah, wind instruments. I envy that. I could never get past my initial few trumpet lessons as a kid. I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel in my face!" he laughed, "So instead I break old peoples' hips."

"Oh yeah?" I laughed, "That sounds terrible. Care to elaborate on that?"

"A group of us here have a jazz ensemble. We play shows every Thursday and Saturday. The older folks love to get up and dance. Let's just say that sometimes they dance themselves right into needing a wheelchair the next day. Anyway, we get pretty decent paying gigs at The Yeontan Lounge, playing all the old jazz standards. You should join us sometime. We love having other artists step in. Speaking of, Jin will you be at practice tonight?" Hobi said, suddenly turning towards Jin.

"You're in the ensemble too, Jin? That's amazing. What do you play?" I asked, excited to hear more about the group, and especially excited to hear them play.

"Upright bass. You should sing with us tonight, Faye. I heard you sing karaoke at the company party a few years ago. You sounded great. Are you still performing these days?" Jin asked.

"I haven't performed in quite a few months, but I'm sure I can manage a casual jam session tonight. What song should I prepare for you?" I asked, my disciplined mind already scrambling to come up with the perfect piece for my vocal range.

"Why don't you sing At Last by Etta James? That's a classic. Can't go wrong there." Jin suggested, glancing over at Hope for approval.

Hobi stuck out his lower lip and nodded, raising his eyebrows. He seemed pleased at the song suggestion.

"Hearing a classical singer take on At Last is going to be something special, I bet. Looking forward to it," he said. "See you tonight."

"Likewise," I said, watching him walk towards the hall of studios.

DING!

There's that goddamn door chime again.

Startled at the sound, I clumsily dropped the pen I had been holding against my notebook, and it loudly clinked on the glass countertop.

As I reached to pick it up, embarrassed at my unintended slapstick routine, out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone walking in my direction from the front door.

I looked up, and it was as if time slowed to a crawl. My eyes met the gaze of a tall, slender man with shaggy black hair and smooth, porcelain skin, wearing a button-up denim jacket, skinny jeans, and converse - all black. He didn't stop walking, but our eyes locked until he was out of view.

Instantly, I felt this surge of electricity throughout my body, as if he physically touched me when he walked past me. It was strange... and exhilarating. His deep chocolate eyes had so much fire behind them, they burned straight into my soul.

I had to know his name.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my book! I'll be updating every Sunday at the very least, but hopefully more frequently than that.

Looking forward to your feedback and suggestions!

This first chapter is dedicated to the lovely 0o_pervy_noona_oO who started me on my Bangtan ff addiction, and inspired me to write my own.

[unlockthelore]

One Second

Pretty late, but this was written for hananeneweek20. The prompt being: Valentines’ Day. Hope you guys enjoy it.

In Yashiro’s experience, Valentines Day had never been the best time for romance. Whether it was being rejected by one of her crushes to being bombarded as other girls or boys confessed to them whilst her own was left to the side. She simply had very little luck with romance and admittedly, it was a bit of a downer.

She was in the springtime of her youth, at a point in her life where fairy tale romances were everything — but it felt as if none of it was ever coming true. For the umpteenth time, she sighed and bumped her head against her crossed arms, ignoring the breezy chatter of her classmates exchanging gifts or talking about their significant others and other topics that were of no use to her with her plight.

There were the select few who were more taken with hanging out with their friends or loved ones. And while the thought had crossed Yashiro’s mind that she could go home and be with her hamster, Black Canyon, it would be nice to have someone give her something today or to be with someone romantically.

Drumming her fingers against the desk, Yashiro sighed and propped her chin up on her arms, staring listlessly out the window. The pad of her thumb rubbed against the underside of her ring finger, vaguely recalling the strings that wound around them.

Connections.

She could still feel them as if they were there but the invisible strings were no longer discernible to her eyes. Opening and closing her hand, she couldn’t feel their tug or see those who they connected to. The network of connections that she had in her classroom alone were a myriad of colors but now, they were gone.

Just because a bond can’t be seen doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.

She sat upright as Hanako’s words rung through her mind along with his smile, upside down but reassuring nonetheless.

“Nene-chan!”

Looking toward the doorway, Yashiro smiled as Aoi walked over with her hand raised in a friendly wave. There wasn’t a bit of chocolate to be seen on her and out of everything, that was the most confusing part of the day. Aoi was popular, the number one girl that everyone wanted to date, so it was unbelievable that she wouldn’t have received a single thing.

“Something wrong?” Aoi asked, leaning against Yashiro’s desk, her hands clasped behind her back.

“We-Well…” Yashiro stammered with a sheepish smile, unsure of how to ask this without sounding conceited or bitter. Dropping her gaze to her desk and fidgeting her fingers, she tried to form the words but nothing would come out.

A soft tap on the top of her desk caught her attention, and she pushed her thoughts aside as she peered at a white heart-shaped box adorned with a rainbow-colored ribbon sitting in the center of the wooden surface. Its glossy lid reflecting her own stricken expression.

“I-is this one of yours, Aoi?” Yashiro asked, looking up at her.

Aoi giggled softly, the back of her hand covering her mouth and the heat rose to Yashiro’s cheeks as Aoi reached out to poke the tip of her nose. “Of course not, Nene-chan,” she said sweetly, pulling her hand away. “It’s yours.”

“Mine? From..” Glancing at the surface and around the box’s sides, there was no note. And it had come out of nowhere.

“Me,” said Aoi.

Yashiro looked up at her and blinked slowly. “… You?”

“Mhm.”

It then dawned on her that a hushed silence had fallen over the room and she glanced aside, several wandering gazes centered on them while others were glued to the trembling form of Aoi Akane. The bespectacled boy stood beside Yamabuki Lemon who was keeping a discrete hold on the back of his sweater so that he wouldn’t run over.

Glaring daggers at Yashiro as she picked up the box of chocolates and slowly undid the ribbon, opening it up. There was a colorful assortment of chocolates there, some decorated while others were plain, but they all were shaped like rabbits.

In fact, they even looked a bit like the Mokke. Yashiro felt the color draining from her face and she glanced up at Aoi. A pang of hurt shooting through her chest at her friend’s crescent fallen expression, her hands worrying as she looked between Yashiro and the chocolates.

“Sorry, Nene-chan, do you not like them?”

“Wh—“

An outraged cry from Akane was quickly muffled by Yamabuki and Yashiro waved her hands quickly. “No no no, I love them, Aoi! I just think the shape is really familiar.”

Scarily familiar actually.

“Oh, it’s actually inspired by this one rumor that I heard not too long ago, do you want to hear it?”

Seeing an opening, Yashiro perked up immediately. “Of course!”

Chatter in the classroom picked up shortly after, interest waning and Yamabuki’s interference in keeping Akane from running over led both boys outside to the courtyard into a mock battle of sorts. Sitting by the window and talking about the rabbit-like thieves, Yashiro felt her mood steadily improving. Although she was quite touched that Aoi thought of her enough to want to make chocolates for her, there was a bittersweet taste on her tongue.

She hadn’t thought to do the same.

Valentines Day was supposed to be her time to shine, where the prince of her dreams or at least a boy that was desperate enough to want to be with her instead of being alone would appear. Though, how low were her standards to want something like that? Propping her arm up, she rested her chin in hand and gazed at Aoi as she went on about the Mokke rumor.

Wouldn’t it have been better to be around someone that wanted to be with her?

Did she really need love to be returned if nothing would come from it?

Was she that desperate?

The entity inside of the drawer doesn’t show you whether someone likes you or not, it shows you the bond that you have with another person.

Musubi no Kami or at least one of the god’s attendants had shown her that she wasn’t alone. There were people that cared for her and although it wasn’t romantic, they still cared. Aoi went out of her way to make chocolates for her. Akane and Yamabuki were good friends with her, and so was Kou. Minamoto-senpai was still a stranger to her, no matter how much she idolized him. It was difficult to get close to him and ease her bias aside.

But the others were different.

Did she really need the love of one person when she had them?

There was Aoi, Akane, Yamabuki, Kou, Tsuchigomori-sensei, Yako-san, the Mokke —

And Hanako-kun.

Yashiro sucked in a sharp breath and curled her fingers into a fist, pressing them close to her lips. Her vision was swimming for a split second. How could she forget?

“Nene-chan..?” Aoi asked, her head tipped to one side and eyes darkened with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Her heart stammered in a beat. Fist trembling as she forced it down to her lap and pressed her lips together in a thin line. How could she even be thinking about feeling sorry for herself when she had all of them?

“Nene—“

“Aoi.”

Aoi gasped softly at the call of her name, meeting Yashiro’s eyes, and though Yashiro wasn’t sure of the look that she was wearing — she knew what she wanted.

“Could you go with me to speak to Tsuchigomori-sensei about using the Home Ec room? There’s something that I really want to do,” Yashiro bowed her head a bit, staring at her hands, her face feeling warm.

The tips of her ears practically burning when she felt a gentle touch along the curve of her jaw, slowly tilting her head up. Aoi’s violet eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, giving a curt nod.

“Of course.”

Tsuchigomori-sensei seemed to expect them when they came into the faculty office and his permission was given without a backward glance. He even chuckled softly, the deep timbre of his far more intimidating side sending a shiver down Yashiro’s spine as she thought back to his threat of spilling her secrets over the PA system.

“Yashiro, Akane,” he called, the curve of his smile visible over his shoulder. “Make sure they’re good and clean up after you’re done, alright?”

Aoi’s affirmation was heartfelt while Yashiro’s was a highpitched affirmative before she was pulling Aoi down the hall at a breakneck pace. Hanako would just have to forgive her for being a little late to her duties —

Wait, Hanako!

Skidding to a stop in front of the Home Ec room, she turned to Aoi and clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry, Aoi, I have to go talk to someone so can we—“

“Slow down, Nene-chan,” Aoi waved her hand dismissively, taking Yashiro’s bag from her hand and shouldering it aside her own. “We still have to buy the ingredients to make the chocolates, you know.”

Ah, she had forgotten that, hadn’t she?

“H—How did you know that I wanted to make chocolates?” Yashiro took a half-step backward, truly surprised by Aoi’s perception, trying to hide her mortification at forgetting the most important thing.

“Mm, lucky guess? Or maybe because you were muttering about chocolate and doughnuts..?” Aoi shooed her away with a soft giggle. “Go go, I’ll buy everything and call you, okay?.”

“W-Wait, not everything, I—“

“It’s alright,” Aoi’s sing-song voice calmed Yashiro’s racing heart as Aoi poked the tip of her nose. “As long as I get chocolates too, okay?”

Yashiro brightened up and nodded. “It’s a promise!” She shouted over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and ran, hurrying to the old building’s third floor.

The door slammed open as she stumbled inside. “Hanako-kun! … Eh? W-What are you all doing?”

She wasn’t sure what was more unusual. Kou and Hanako crouched side by side with a pile of candy and other trinkets, including Kou’s traffic safety earring, in front of them or the Mokke that were currently pushing around cards with their ears(?). At least six sets of eyes, the two boys and four Mokke turned to her at the interruption to what she was guessing was a card game?

One that Hanako and Kou might have been losing at that.

“Oho, good timing Yashiro!” Hanako cheered, throwing his cards in the air startling both the Mokke and Kou who went very pale and looked between Hanako and Yashiro with a panicked expression. “The kid wanted to give y—“

Kou slapped his own cards down to the floor and yelled loudly, “I fold!”, effectively drowning out everything that Hanako tried to say.

The Mokke, Hanako and Yashiro stared at the blond as he heaved a sigh then pushed the pile of objects toward them although he snatched his earring at the last second. Feeling cheated out of their winnings, the Mokke hopped around like mad, forming a circle around Kou and slowly advancing on him.

“Looks like you made them mad,” Hanako cooed, floating closer to Yashiro with a snickering grin.

Yashiro wrapped her arms around herself and averted his gaze as he lingered by her side. The cold radiating off of him in waves. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she raked her nails against them, trying to keep it from showing. A soft curious hum and the cold intensified as Hanako leant closer, his gaze drifting from her face to her arms.

“Yashi—“

“Alright, alright, here!” Kou cried as the Mokke’s chanting reached a fever pitch, and he handed them a yellow box tied with a blue ribbon, lowering his head in defeat as they cheered and ran off with their earnings. Likely to cause mischief elsewhere but leaving behind a pouting boy.

Yashiro sighed, grateful for the distraction, as she brushed off Hanako’s half-baked inquiry with a faint smile then walked over to crouch by Kou. “It’s alright, Kou-kun. I’m sure that whoever gave you those chocolates would understand,” she reassured, gently petting his head.

He looked up at her with tear-glazed blue eyes, his lower lip quivering. “Senpai..”

“Actually,” Hanako chimed in, floating near them, effectively worming his way between them as he filled Yashiro’s vision with a grin. Her heart skipped a beat the closer he got, his hand cupped around the side of his mouth, voice lowered as he whispered. “Those chocolates were for—“

“Aaaaah!” Kou yelled, pressing his hands to his ears. “Senpai came for something, right? What is it? W-What’s wrong, Senpai?!”

Yashiro’s gaze flicked between them as their bickering started and she wondered for the first time if either of them even needed sugar. Hanako was a ghost, so he couldn’t get a sugar rush, could he? But Kou seemed on edge. She sighed softly and shrugged half-heartedly. It was the thought that counted after all.

“I was just wondering… since today is Valentines, would you both want chocolates?”

Their bickering died almost immediately and the ensuing silence was so daunting that Yashiro was hard pressed not to take a step back. Both boys staring up at her with widened eyes and stricken expressions of disbelief. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and she poked her fingers together, trying to find a way to unfreeze them.

“I-It won’t just be you two, there’ll be Aoi, Akane-kun, Yamabuki-kun, Tsuchigomori-sensei, Yako-san, a-a lot of people…”

Hanako was the first to recover and his stricken expression shifted into one of quiet contemplation, his eyes narrowing and seeming more golden than orange. Sweeping over her appraisingly and lingering on her own before he rose to his feet, brushing aside Kou’s hands and returning to the window ledge, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Don’t want any.”

Yashiro didn’t expect the cold words to strike her so quickly. What did that even mean? Hanako seemed to be a fan of sweets especially the ones gifted to him from the Mokke. She never knew him to have an aversion to them before, so why…?

Stunned into silence, she wasn’t sure what to say but Kou recovered from his shock, scrambling to his feet and turning on Hanako with an outstretched hand. “Oi! What do you mean you don’t want them? Chocolates from Senpai— I mean — chocolates from anyone on Valentines day is a gift, y’know!?”

“Exactly. And I don’t want it,” Hanako said with a slight shrug. Another stab going through Yashiro’s chest.

Kou took in a deep breath and his cheeks were beginning to darken pink, a sure sign that he was raring for a fight. Yashiro pressed her hand to her chest and took a step forward, avoiding the cards on the floor and laying her hand gently on Kou’s arm. All the fight left him immediately and he watched as she walked over to stand a few inches away from Hanako. With his back to her, and the evening sunlight slanting through the mosaic window — it was easy to see his translucent form.

To see that he wasn’t human at all.

Perhaps his tastes had changed since the time that he died. And from what she saw from Tsuchigomori-sensei’s yorishiro, his school life might not have been the best.

I’ve never had a girl tell me she likes me before.

Letting her hand fall to her side in a closed fist, Yashiro took a deep breath then opened her mouth.

“What do you want then, Hanako-kun?”

Hanako’s head tipped to one side before he turned to look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched and sunset-colored eyes wide.

“What do I want?” He echoed back as if the question was spoken in some foreign language he didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“Chocolates aren’t the only thing exchanged today,” Yashiro explained, ignoring the choked gasp from Kou although she felt her cheeks reddening at the implication. “If you want a different sort of gift, then just let me know. I’m sure I can do it.”

“Yashiro…” Hanako turned to face her, the sunlight haloing him in a soft golden-white hue, his translucent body solidifying as he took a few steps forward. “You…”

His shoes came to rest in front of hers, and she had to lean back to look him in the eye. Kou’s hitched breath mirroring her own as Hanako leant down with half-lidded eyes. Yashiro’s body, numbed to the cold, pricked with warmth as he closed his eyes. W-Wait, wasn’t this moving too fast? All she wanted to know was what gift he wanted but what if..

Was he going to ki—

Closing her eyes tightly to cancel the thought out, she didn’t expect to hear him sniffing.

“Eh?” She opened her eyes, taking a half-step backward as Hanako sniffed the air around her. “What are you doing, Hanako-kun?”

“Mm.. Trying to figure this out,” he tapped his finger against his chin then glanced at her slyly. “You didn’t get many chocolates, did you?”

The observation shot her directly in the heart and she shuddered, averting her gaze. “W-Well..”

“I’m sure Senpai got plenty of chocolates!” Kou blurted out, and despite his best effort, he only made her feel worse. Her head hanging and he realized belatedly his mistake but also the harsh reality. “… W-Wait, not a single one? Really?”

Did he really have to add the really, she thought wearily. “Well, I got chocolates from Aoi… but they were friend chocolates. It’s different..” She muttered softly, scratching at her cheek.

“Is it any less important?”

Hanako’s voice cut through with the sharpness of a knife and Nene’s gaze snapped back to him. With his hat tipped over upturned eyes reminding her of half moons, he looked different. The usual smile that he wore was thinned and almost tight at the corners. Red flags bloomed everywhere in her mind and she wondered if she said something odd, scratching her cheek and curling her fingers in the hem of her dress. From the corner of her eye, Kou straightened up, seemingly noticing the change in the mood.

“Are friend chocolates any less important than those from a lover?” Hanako asked, his voice increasingly patient despite her lack of a response. Though Yashiro wasn’t sure what to say to this. “Is doing a gesture for a friend lesser than what you’d do for a lover?”

“Well, no…” Yashiro muttered, almost in wonder. What was she supposed to do with this sort of atmosphere? Glancing at Kou for help, she found none as the blond peered at Hanako a bit closer then leant back with a hum. He gave her a slight smile and nodded his head toward Hanako, crossing his arms behind his head as he averted his gaze to the mirror. What was that supposed mean?

“Ya - shi - ro~”

The sudden cold chill and whisper by her ear made her squeak and she stepped aside, noticing Hanako standing right beside her, peering at her from the corner of his eye beneath the brim of his hat.

“It’s just different,” Yashiro said lamely, poking her fingers together, her cheeks burning.

Hanako hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side. “How so?”

Yashiro wasn’t sure what to say. When did this turn into an interrogation? Wasn’t it enough to just want to give someone chocolates because of the connection that they had? And even then, the difference between friends and lovers was pretty stark wasn’t it. Her face felt warm and she shuffled her feet.

“Well, when you’re in love, it’s like… you’re with someone that understands you and wants to do things with you like going to the movies or on dates or…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of the pressure of his lips against her cheek, soft yet cold, but no less lovely.

“And you can’t do that with friends?” Hanako muttered, his voice close enough to her ear that he might have been speaking in her head. Belatedly she realized it was because he was close and she squeaked, stepping aside. Kou, who’d been quiet up til then, startling at the closeness and threw his arm out in front of her.

“O-Oi Hanako, I know what point you’re trying to make, but don’t startle senpai!”

Yashiro blinked slowly, glancing up at Kou. She knew what point he was trying to make? What did that mean?

Hanako chuckled softly, flicking up the brim of his hat. “Yashiro,” he called knowingly, tilting his head. “You asked me what I wanted.” With an outstretched hand, he pointed directly at her and Yashiro clutched the hem of her dress tighter. “So, that’s that! I’ll excuse you from your duty for today, as long as you think on that question…” He brought his finger back and rested it at the curve of his chin, his half-moon eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled mischievously. “Then tell me.”

With that, he crossed his arms behind his head and walked past them humming an unfamiliar tune. Yashiro and Kou following him with their eyes before looking up at one another then back.

“That’s all, Hanako-kun?” Yashiro managed to ask as he pulled the door open.

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Hanako smiled then vanished from sight.

Kou sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “What was that about, senpai?”

“I don’t know…” Yashiro tapped her forefingers together, pouting slightly as she leveled him with a flat look. “And what did you mean by understanding his point?”

“Hrk! Ahaha… “ Kou smiled sheepishly, inching away from her side. “W-Well, you know.. Uhm..” He glanced around the bathroom, eyeing the mirror for a moment longer before clapping his hands together. “Right! Teru-nii, I-I mean, Minamoto-senpai needed me so I should go help him.”

“Wait, Kou—“

“Bye bye!” Kou shouted, practically tripping over his feet as he left in a hurry. His blond hair barely visible as he beat around the corner, Yashiro peering around the doorway at him as he vanished from sight.

A soft chime from her pocket turned her attention to her phone. Aoi’s number popping up with a message that she got everything although the rabbit emoticon she used reminded Yashiro that the Mokke were around and they were very partial to sweets. She tucked her phone away, trying to push the odd request from Hanako to the back of her mind as she hurried back to the Home Ec room.

Though she couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. With the look in his eyes, and that smile, what did it all mean? She often found herself flustered by his voice and his teasing, his backhanded way of complimenting or messing with her. But right then, it felt as if he was trying to tell her something. And he even seemed troubled despite his smile.

What did that even mean?

Sliding the door open, Yashiro was fairly surprised to see that Aoi wasn’t the only one there. Akane and Yamabuki had also joined their merry little band and Yashiro smiled wide.

“Akane-kun and Yamabuki-kun said that they wanted to help,” Aoi told Yashiro as she walked over. “Though Akane-kun has been talking about making chocolates for someone, I wonder who..”

Looking at the squabbling boys and the not so subtle looks Akane was giving Aoi, Yashiro was certain that she knew who the chocolates were for. And there was no doubt I her mind that Aoi didn’t know.

“Nene-chan,” Aoi whispered, leaning closer to her. “Were you upset because you didn’t receive chocolates from anyone you liked?”

Yashiro stiffened up, glancing at Aoi then down at her hands. “Well…” She couldn’t tell her that was spot on because that would make Aoi feel like her chocolates were lesser. But if she didn’t, then she was lying which would’ve been worse. As if sensing her mental panicking, Aoi’s hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Nene-chan,” she mutters softly, worry piercing through Yashiro’s guard.

“Y-Yeah,” Yashiro admitted reluctantly, hanging her head as she poked her fingers together. “I was…”

The sound of Yamabuki and Akane’s bickering in the background filled the silence between them.

Aoi let out a quiet sigh. “What kind of love do you want, Nene-chan?”

“Kind of love?” Yashiro asks, lifting her head and peeking at Aoi. “What do you mean…?”

It almost sounded like the question that Hanako asked her but phrased differently. In an even more confusing what.

“There’s all kinds of love, you know, and one isn’t more important than the other…” Aoi explains, giggling softly when she saw the confusion on Yashiro’s face. “Put it this way…” She hooked her elbow in the crook of Yashiro’s own and turned them toward Yamabuki and Akane, pointing toward the latter while whispering close to Yashiro’s ear. “If I started dating Akane-kun, and I loved him a lot, would that mean that he’s more important to me than you?”

“Eh?” Yashiro hesitated, looking from Aoi’s patient smile to Akane who was currently frozen and looking back at them with wide eyes. Yamabuki poking at his cheek to try and spur him into movement. “W-Well… No.”

“Good, because we’re childhood friends and even then, I like him just as much as I like you.”

A loud thud coupled with a soft cry as Akane’s head dropped to the tabletop, his dreams of Aoi liking him back likely shattered for the time being. Yashiro laughed nervously, averting her gaze back to Aoi who didn’t seem to notice at all or if she had wasn’t speaking on it.

“Receiving chocolates from me isn’t the same as receiving them from someone who likes you like that, but I still like you,” Aoi explained, wrapping her arms around Yashiro’s shoulders and hugging her close, their cheeks pressing and rubbing together. Yashiro tried not to laugh from how Aoi’s hair tickled her. “Valentines Day isn’t about romance, it’s about knowing someone cares and loves you for you, Nene-chan.”

Is it any less important?

Yashiro didn’t answer. She curled her fingers in the hem of her dress and looked at Aoi with a mixture of guilt and awe. Hanako’s face in her mind, Kou’s words, the strings —

‘“I know you want a fairy tale ending,” Aoi gently brushed her fingers against Yashiro’s cheek as she left her side. “But you deserve someone who loves you..” She flashes a smile over her shoulder. “And you have plenty of people who do.”

Yashiro’s heart skipped a beat, hammering in her chest hard enough that it might’ve escaped her ribs if she wasn’t careful. Aoi starting to pull out all that they needed to make chocolates, looked up when she felt a hand curl in her sleeve and tug lightly.

“Aoi…”

“Hm?”

“Is it bad… wanting a fairy tale ending?”

Aoi didn’t say anything for a moment then carefully, she laid her hand on Yashiro’s and squeezed. “Only when you hurt yourself to try and have it,” she finally said, squeezing her hand then letting go. “You’re perfect in your own way, Nene-chan. And I pray you find someone who can see that too.”

Making chocolates was easy and fun with Yamabuki and Akane’s antics, the proposals that were graded harshly by Aoi, and the number of failed chocolates they ate. Tying the parcels with colorful ribbons, Yashiro handed Yamabuki and Akane theirs while giving Aoi her own with a hug. Seeing them off at the gate, she smiled down at the remaining boxes and hurried off to bring them to who they belonged.

Yako was easy enough to find on her steps and she took the chocolates with a huff. Not even biting Yashiro’s hand when she reached out to ruffle her hair.

Kou was next, and his eyes widened when the chocolates touched his fingers. His cheeks were bright pink and he grinned widely while his older brother flashed her a smile, waving politely from behind him. Yashiro clutched her school bag to her chest and smiled shyly in return, turning away.

“Senpai!” Kou called after her, hanging out of the doorway as she walked down the corridor.

“Hm?”

“Uhm… well, those chocolates from before..” He glanced back inside of the student council room before stepping out and closing the door behind him. His hand tightening against the door handle until it creaked, slowly pulling away.

Yashiro wasn’t sure what to think of Kou’s downcast eyes and the sharp tinge of pink powdering across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He fidgeted, mouth opening and closing before a sharp inhale and an upward jerk of the head stunned her into silence.

“Those chocolates from before,” he began loudly, his voice quieting as he searched her gaze. “Were for you.”

“... Really..?” Yashiro said softly, disbelief in widened eyes as she turned to face him.

“You’re always trying hard and even though you can be clumsy and a little forgetful and idealistic — I like...” Kou inhaled sharply, cutting off his words, and Yashiro dared not to take a breath. Quietly urging him to go on. “everything about you. I..” he pressed his lips together, clenching his fist. “I’m glad that I got to know you and I’m always on your side.. as your friend.”

Yashiro stared at him. One second stretching into two, then two into a minute and a minute into who knew how long. He fidgeted and blushed, likely flustered beyond belief and seemed to wither under the heavy quiet.

“Kou-kun..”

“Y-Yes?!”

So that’s what Hanako meant. She smiled softly, shifting her bag to one arm and scratching her cheek.

“You don’t mind.. about my legs?”

Kou blinked at her then tilted his head. “Why would I?”

Yashiro smiled, walking closer to lay her hand on Kou’s shoulder. He stiffened up beneath her touch, but melted as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, hugging him close.

“Thank you, Kou-kun..”

“For what?”

She pulled away and poked his cheek, lightly wiggling her finger making him mumble indignantly. It was a little cute.

“Being you.”

Pulling her hand away, she shouldered her bag and stepped back, waving to him as she walked down the hall.

“U-Uhm.. senpai!”

Looking back at him, Yashiro tilted her head. “Hm?”

“Uh... g-good luck answering Hanako’s question!”

He really was too kind for his own good. Yashiro pumped her fist in the air, giggling as Kou mimicked her. As she turned and ran down the hall, it felt as if she was slugging through molasses. Her feet heavy with every step and heart hammering, searching the halls, peering in the bathroom and looking around for where he could be. The Mokke, playing with their haul, pointed her to the rooftop and the steps were daunting. Staring up them, she swallowed thickly.

What if it was the wrong answer?

What if she hurt him?

But what if what he was trying to tell her was that —

He teased her about her legs. He laughed with her. He protected her. He was there for her as her friend but she was always —

It was so frustrating.

Climbing the steps one after another, pushing open the door, her eyes softened at the sight of an evening sky dappled with violets, orange and gold. Hanako standing on the railing with his hands clasped behind his back, untouched not only by time but the elements. A cool breeze whipping Yashiro’s hair, obscuring her view of him, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

And why would he be? As cold as he was and as cold as he could be.

She swallowed, hugging her bag closer to her and pressing her lips in a firm line, shaking her head defiantly. No, she was going to answer his question and prove —

Prove what, exactly?

That she changed was the first thought that came to mind.

That she valued him just as much as she would anyone else.

That even though she might fall in love someday, he would still be important to her.

“There you are,” Hanako said cheerily, peering over his shoulder with a mirthless grin. “Sure took you awhile, Yashiro.”

A number of responses weighed heavily on her tongue and each one vied for a place in this silence punctuated by the sounds of the city, students in their extracurricular activities, the distant sound of birdsong, chirping insects, and the pounding of her heart.

“Hanako-kun,” she started, her mouth feeling dry and tongue brushing along her lower lip before she tucked it between her teeth. “You know… being with you, spending time with you…”

She wasn’t sure if she was conveying this well but Hanako was still there so she must have been doing something right. Even so, it was a little embarrassing talking about her feelings like this.

“It won’t change even if I change,” she blurted out, pressing her hands to her stomach to try and stifle the fluttering. “I’ll always cherish this and it’ll mean something.”

How could it not? Ever since she met Hanako, her world seemed to open up more and more. There were plenty of things that were terrifying and ones that scared her witless. Hanako was bereft with secrets, some so deep and imposing that she was afraid to unearth them. But she liked him — enough to stay even when she was scared.

“Even if I fall in love…” Her initial wish came to mind, the boy with sunset eyes who held her hands in an empty classroom filled with the reddened twilight sunrays, the one who started everything. “You’ll always matter to me.”

Twisting her hands in her dress, she hesitantly looked up and hunched her shoulders. “I-Is that okay?” she asked, gazing up at him as he stared back at her impassively. His grinning smile shifting into a thoughtful one, still betraying the thoughts he might have had. Nervousness ran through her and the courage she mustered drained away, embarrassment making her cheeks warm as she fumbled with her bag for something to fill the quiet.

“And I…” She pushed aside her literature notebook, finding the colorful bag adorned with rabbits and tied off with an orange ribbon, pulling it out and settling it in her hands. A cold chill ran down her spine and slowly, she raised her head, meeting his eyes as he stood before her with his hands behind his back and eyebrow raised. Gazing at her curiously with that childish innocence that his eyes betrayed. “Made you chocolates anyway…”

Hanako leaned closer and Yashiro stiffened up, watching as he analyzed the chocolates with a drawn out hum. “They’re shaped like doughnuts,” he stated plainly.

She blinked once then twice, glancing down at the chocolates. “Do you like them?” she asked quietly, holding the bag out to him. “I know that you said you didn’t want any but everyone should get something on Valentines’ Day to… uhm…”

“Uhm..?” Hanako repeated, tilting his head.

“Know someone… cares.”

Her face was burning the longer Hanako stared at her and the silence was drawn out. Then all at once, it broke with one of his trademark laughs that both irritated and warmed her heart.

“W-What’s so funny, Hanako-kun?”

“Well, I feel a little bad,” he said with a snicker. “I didn’t make you any chocolates at all.”

“W—”

“So I guess we’ll just have to share these, hm?” He plucked the bag from her hands, drifting back over to the railing and sitting down. His back facing her as he rummaged through, taking one of the doughnut shaped chocolates and popping it in his mouth.

“Share…?”

“Mhm. If we share, it’s like I’m giving chocolates to you. A gift to me is a gift to you,” he waved his finger back and forth in the air as he explained, smiling at her over his shoulder. “Get it?”

Giving chocolates. A gift from her is one to him. Because she cared — because he cares.

Yashiro giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Hanako’s eyes widening as he turned around, straddling the railing with the bag of chocolates cradled in his hand, lips pressed in a pout.

“What’s so funny, Yashiro?”

“Hanako-kun… you’re not very honest, are you?”

Hanako’s eyes widened, his cheeks warming scarlet and he huffed. “Hey, what do you mean?”

Yashiro continued laughing even as he drifted over, poking at her shoulder and her cheek, badgering for what she meant as he clung to her. Dipping her hand into the bag of chocolates, she pulled one out and popped it in his mouth. Delighting in his wide-eyed and flustered expression, her own lips curving into a smile.

“Happy Valentines’ Day, Hanako-kun. Thank you...”

[ghostbustermelanieking]

1 and/or 58?

1. “Pull over.  Let me drive for awhile.”

58. “You don’t have to say anything.”

---

He calls her on a Tuesday morning when he is supposed to be resting, only three weeks after his discharge from the hospital, with a proposal. He is supposed to be taking two months of medical leave, and she tells him “But this isn't exactly work-related, Scully,” he teases. She can practically see his eyebrows waggling, as if he was standing right across from her.

She bites her lower lip, putting her feet up on the desk. “This had better not be another proposal to run off to Scotland and look for the Loch Ness Monster,” she tells him seriously, pretending she wouldn't jump on that in a minute if it weren't for his head injury. She'd do almost anything to feel normal again. She pretends that the sentence I have a proposal for you, Scully didn't make her instantly, childishly think of marriage, of his voice over the phone in Maine. (Her cheeks are red with embarrassment.)

“No, not again,” he says coyly. “Well. Not exactly.”

“Mulder,” she says at length, knowingly.

“Scully,” he says, mimicking her, and she rolls her eyes gently. “I've been watching some sighting blogs lately, and I've noticed a pattern up in New Hampshire. Four sightings within the last two months.”

“Sightings of what?” she asks, suspicious.

“Sasquatch,” he clarifies. She bites her lip again, although she isn't sure if it's to stifle a grimace or a smile. She's missed arguing with him. “It's perfectly harmless, no danger or anything, and even you admitted that the Files are on a bit of a dry run right now. Which I'm guessing means you're as bored as I am.” She can hear his grin over the phone. “C'mon, Scully,” he cajoles gently. “I'll pay for gas. I won't exert myself past what you say I should exert myself.”

“Mulder, three weeks ago, you were in the hospital because some madman did botched brain surgery on you. You shouldn't be exerting yourself at all.”

“Then it's a good thing I'm inviting my doctor along.”

She can hear the tiniest pleading in his voice. She casts her eyes down on the paperwork covering her desk and swallows back a sigh. She has been bored. She's stir-crazy. If Mulder hadn't been calling her every single day, she probably would be making excuses to call him: just to check up, just to ask if he remembers this one detail for her report.  

As his doctor, she should be more sensible. But as his partner, she can't help it. Sasquatch is a pitiful excuse for an X-File, but it is still an X-File.

“I'll be there within an hour,” she says.

---

Mulder makes food for the road as if he were an elementary school mother. Sloppy sandwiches—peanut butter for him and turkey for her—stored in brown paper bags, carrot sticks, almonds, and three bags of sunflower seeds. Plus a couple packets of peanut M&Ms. His bandages came off a few days ago, and the line of stitches at his temple are just finished under the thatch of regrowing hair, the bill of his baseball cap from two weeks ago. “You look all ready for a field trip, Mulder,” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him. He shakes his head ruefully and plops his baseball cap down on her head as he climbs into the car. Hands her a packet of M&Ms and takes the lid off of her water bottle for her while she drives. They bicker over the radio all the way to Baltimore.

---

Near the Pennsylvania border, Mulder reads aloud to her from print-outs from his sighting blogs. He starts with the Sasquatch sightings, but he's moved onto other cryptids and the like within a few minutes. “Hey, look, Scully, more Big Blue sightings,” he says, flapping a piece of paper in her face. A blurry picture is accompanied by equally blurry text, the ink smudged by the pads of Mulder's fingers. “Want to go to Georgia next?”

She makes a face at the road. “Mulder, I thought we agreed that the deaths in Georgia—the deaths in Georgia that occurred almost four years ago—were due to the alligator.”

“But look at that picture, Scully!” He waves the print-out again. “Does that look like an alligator to you?”

She squints at the photo in brief increments before looking back to the road. “It looks vaguely like a tree branch.”

Feigning insult, he pouts. She reaches over and pats his knee, partially in reassurance and partially teasing. “We may be partners, Mulder,” she says gently, “but I am not galumphing up and down the East Coast all these next few weeks with your head energy. Especially not back to the place where my dog died. Let's take it one sighting at a time, okay?”

There's a sudden, straggling silence following that, and she suddenly worries that she's hurt his feelings. (She doesn't blame him for Queequeg's death. She doesn't; and it was a long time ago, anyways.) She looks over at him, and her stomach twists at the guilt on his face. She's ready to apologize when he speaks, and his voice is even and steady. Not the self-loathing reaction she expected; a little guilty, but only a little. “I'll buy you a new dog, Scully,” he says. “Or a cat. Or some fish, even. Fish are amazing, Scully, I speak from experience.”

Something like fear curdles in her gut, something like a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Discussions like this is the type of thing she desperately wants, but is too afraid to ask for. She remembers her lips on his forehead, his soft, slurred voice in the hospital as he described his brain surgery-induced dreams of a suburban life with Diana, the guilty lurch when he whispered, But I don't want that with her. The unsaid implications there. She grips the wheel hard. “We'll see, Mulder,” she says, trying to sound amused, but her voice trembles. “We'll see.”

---

They stop for dinner somewhere in New York. She checks his condition, leaning over the table and the basket of chips he talked her into ordering to check his pupils. She brushes hair away from his eyes and he looks up at her almost shyly. She sits back in her seat too hard.

Halfway through dinner, Mulder reveals a folded up map from the car and traces their route with his ink-smudged finger. He's marked the specific spots where there's been sightings, boxed them off, and she moves to his booth to look, unintentionally pressing their arms together. She's missed this. She's missed him at the office, she thinks, and is saying it nearly before she realizes it—”I've missed you in the office.”

He looks at her in surprise, blinking with huge eyes. She leans closer to look at the map, and her hair brushes across his jaw; she can feel his eyes on her, astonished and affectionate.

---

She starts yawning somewhere in Connecticut. She's not too tired yet—she wants to get as far as they can tonight—so she keeps going. But she keeps yawning, her mouth gaping wider and wider, until she feels Mulder's hand brushing over her cheek. “Pull over,” he says in a soft, gentle voice. “Let me drive for awhile.”

She blinks at the road, the blur of headlights stubbornly. She'd thought he was asleep. “Oh, Mulder, I'm fine,” she says. “And besides that, you shouldn't be driving.”

“You're tired,” he says matter-of-factly. “You've been yawning for forty-five minutes now.”

“I thought you were asleep, Mulder,” she murmurs. Her chest is warm, swelling with affection; she feels foolish and tired and strangely, deliriously happy.

“I was. Your yawn is pretty loud.” She shoots him a look, eyebrow cocked, and he grins goofily. “Endearingly loud. Endearingly.”

“Uh-huh.” She stifles another yawn with her fist, shaking her head.

“C'mon, Scully.” His voice is low and warm. “C'mon. Pull over and let me drive to a hotel, at least.” He taps her kneecap with one finger. “We don't have to get there tonight.”

She links thumbs with him on an impulse before he moves his hand away, wraps her fingers around his. “You're not driving,” she says sternly. “Not with your injury. Doctor's orders. You should get some sleep.”

He rubs a slow circle on her palm with his thumb. “You should get some sleep.”

They both should get some sleep. Scully nods, her jaw clenched. They pass an exit sign with a singular hotel listed. She flips her blinker on.

---

There is only one room available, she tells him at the car. He throws her a wry smile. “Of course there is.” (They've dealt with their share of the only-one-room-left in their time.)

“I went ahead and took it,” she says, shifting from foot to foot. “So we can get some sleep.”

He nods, a whisper of a grin on his face. “Good call,” he says. “We can head up to New Hampshire in the morning.”

The room is fairly nice, considering their standard accommodations. Queen-sized bed, mutely patterned comforter, striped wallpaper. Scully checks Mulder out again, examining his stitches on the edge of the bed. He's as tired as she is, his eyelids lolling. She sifts her fingers softly through his hair and he turns his head towards her touch, their foreheads nearly bumping. He swallows, his  eyes dark, fathomless. “What's the prognosis, doc?”

“You're fine.” Her hand drops from his hair, brushing down his stubbly cheek. “But you need to sleep on the bed, okay? Not the floor. Absolutely not,” she tells him sternly. “Okay?”

He swallows. She can see his Adam's apple bobbing. “Only if you do the same.”

She nods. She looks away, down at the carpet under their feet, clustered together at the edge of the bed. She can feel his warmth against her side, resists the urge to lean into it. She starts to stand, their knees bumping together, and his hand curls around hers. “Scully, I, uh…” he begins, his voice warm with sincerely. “I have some things I wanted to—” He breaks off in the middle with an enormous yawn that surely rivals her own yawning, and she smiles. She cannot help it. That warm feeling, that anticipation is back, and there is no fear accompanying it. “... to, uh, to say to you,” he finishes, blinking rapidly as if to try to stay awake. He squeezes her hand.

She's still smiling as she shakes her head, still biting back her own yawns. “That's very sweet, Mulder,” she says quietly, “but I think it can wait until the morning.”

He shakes his head, nearly pouting, stubborn as always. “I don't want to wait,” he says, and he sounds half-drunk on fatigue, but somehow, it's one of the most serious moments she's seen from him. He lifts his free hand to thumb her cheek, the hair slipped out from behind her ear. “I… I-I've wanted to say these things to you for a long time, and I've… I've waited too long to say them. I need to say them now.”

Overwhelmed tears well up in Scully's eyes. In the past, over the course of their partnership, she's been so unsure—never knowing how to interpret the little things, never being confident in what an interaction means, in how much Mulder cares for her or in the manner in which she cares for him. But now she knows. She just knows; it feels like everything has snapped into place. They're exhausted and half-asleep in a hotel room in Connecticut, and he's trying to say something to her that she desperately wants to hear, but he doesn't even have to say it. They don't need it.

She wipes her eye with one hand, whispers, “Oh, Mulder.” He's shooting her a concerned look; she leans up to press a sleepy kiss to his forehead. “It's okay,” she says, and leans bonelessly into his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” I know, she thinks, the words on her lips. I know.

She worries, briefly, that he won't understand, that he'll be hurt or think her dismissive.

But he doesn't say a word. He winds an arm around her back and pulls her close. He puts his lips to her hair and doesn't say anything, and she thinks, Oh. He knows, too.

They sit there together, unmoving, her face hidden against his shirt and their fingers tangled together, some silent understanding between them: This is enough. It's everything.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/ /15/ /16/ /17/ /18/ /19/ /20/ /21/ /22/ /23/ /24/ /25/ /26/ /27/ /28/ /29/ /30/ A/N: Cuddles, pizza from the old neighborhood, and some competitive plans for the night. What more could you want? Worlds begin to collide in this chapter and I hope you’re here for it.

Chapter 31.

“Up since four-thirty?” I question, a sympathetic scrunch to my cheek. I duck into a clean t-shirt, pull it down and move over to the nightstand.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan.” Noble says. “We could only get the early flight.”

“Well I do like you here this early.” I smile at him, securing the band on my watch.

“Me too,” he murmurs with a smirk before he leans in and presses a kiss on my face. “We have all day. That is a perk.”

“Do you need to go get some sleep then?” I offer.

He considers the shirt in his hand that he’s about to put on, as if he’s weighing it against the option of getting into bed. “I couldn’t really sleep now, but–” Then he tosses the shirt aside before he flops onto my bed which we just made with fresh sheets.

Unable to resist, I make my way onto the bed beside him and let my weight settle there.

“So Bianca thinks she has this whole night planned out, just so you’re aware,” he informs me.

“Oh really? Well is she aware that Vinny wants to hang out with us tonight?”

Shifting to rest his head back against the inside of my shoulder, he glances up at me. “He does?”

“Yeah. He wants to meet you.” I drag the hand that’s resting across the bed along his arm, idle fingers tracing a path there.

Noble pushes himself up a little, questioning this with the quirk of an eyebrow.

“Is that okay?” I wonder.

“Yeah.” He nods as if to process it and a gradual smile surfaces, along with a nervous slant to his brow. “Oh shit–”

“It’s fine,” I assure him.

“I haven’t like, met anyone from your life yet.”

“I know.” My eyes flash. “Vinny’s a good place to start.”

“You’ve told me a little about him,” he muses, settling back down on me. “How much does he know? About me?”

“I’ve told him the basics of that undercover. How I got the assignment.” My touch combs through his soft hair. “He knows you testified and what some of the charges were against your family–”

Noble inhales deep, holds it for a beat, and then blows the breath out hard between puffed cheeks. “Cool,” he manages.

“He knows–” I continue. “That I’m really into you. And he suspected it before I ever even told him I was seeing someone.”

“What?” He tips his head to look at me. “You? You made it that obvious?”

“Apparently.”

“Oh-ho-ho–” he chuckles. “I’ll have to question him about that.”

“Mm.” I hum, my fingertips digging into his shoulder. “But it’ll be good. We’re not gonna sit around and talk about that case, I promise. He’s a really good guy. Funny, laid back,” I list to ease his concerns. “You’ll like him. And he’ll like you. Everybody likes you.”

He looks at me again, a hopeful shine in his eyes and pauses a thoughtful beat.  “What do you think about Bianca being back?” He wonders

I return the question. “Well what does she think about it?”

“I think she got pretty anxious once we were about to land.”

With a nod, I consider it. “What’s she doing while you’re over here?”

“Getting a massage and probably a bunch of other crap at the hotel spa.” He laughs and stretches against me. “So hopefully she’s forgotten about everything. She can’t reach out to anyone, though, and I know that’s the hardest part. She gets all sentimental and wants to go like, visit the girl who used to cut her hair or her favorite diner or whatever and I have to reel her in.”

“So what’s her plan for us tonight then?”

Noble peers up at me, a slant at his lips. “All I know is it involves bowling.”

“Bowling?”

He holds up his hands as if he claims no involvement. “Look. It’s her first time back to the city. I told her it was her trip.”

“Aww–”

“Yeah, yeah.” He finds my hand and brings it lower over his shoulder, sliding his own palm beneath mine. “I gotta steer her away from any of her old hangouts.”

“No, I like bowling.” I shrug, watching my fingers stroke between his.

“Really? Because I’m an excellent bowler.”

I laugh, exhaling a skeptical puff of air. “We’ll see about that. Where is this place?”

“The Village somewhere.” With a smirk, I drag my fingertips down his open palm. “What do I get if I beat you?”

“Let me think about that so I can plan it to my advantage.”

***

“I can’t guarantee how good this is after a twenty minute cab ride,” I announce, making my way into Noble’s penthouse with two pizza boxes from Lucali in my arms.

“Oh my god, I don’t care! I’m so excited.” I hear Bianca shout from some place further inside. “I’ll stick it in the microwave if I have to.”

I let out a happy laugh at the sound of her voice and round the corner into the kitchen. Then glancing over, I see Noble get up from the couch in the living room to meet me.

With a face of disapproval, he turns to call back, “Put pizza in the microwave? See what Florida does to people?” Then he offers me a smirk and that smooth voice of his. “Hey you.”

“Hi.” I slide the pizza boxes onto the counter and turn to him. Gesturing further into the apartment, my brow furrows. “Where is she?”

“Getting ready.”

Nodding I lean into his kiss.

He holds a hand at the edge of my jaw before it slips to the back of my head. I grip him firmly at his sides, smiling against his lips at the way he playfully backs me into the edge of the counter.

I fight back with a squeeze at his waist that makes him flinch and he falls away with a surprised chuckle.

Reaching out, he swipes the side of his thumb across my cheek. I know it’s him approving of a fresh shave and he presses one more kiss there before he moves past me. “Mm. You look good.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Glancing down, I appreciate the well-fitting dress shirt he wears untucked over jeans, a standard look for him but always an attractive one.

“You want a glass of wine?”

“Sure.”

While I take off my coat, Noble reaches into the cabinet to pull down a few glasses.

“Hello, hello!” I hear Bianca call, her quick steps bringing her out from the far hallway.

“Well hey,” I greet her as she approaches for a hug.

She stretches to swing her arms around my neck. “I’m not dressed yet.”

“Oh, I thought that’s what you’re wearing to go bowling,” I remark, leaving her with a squeeze before I step away and note the fluffy, short white bathrobe she wears, cinched at the waist.

“Maybe I should.” Flitting thick black eyelashes, she presents herself. “It’s a look.” Then she gasps, turning her attention to the counter where she lays her fingertips on the edge of the box there. “Jamie…”

I have to laugh at how affected she is by this pizza from home when she lifts open the lid and squeaks a little.

“Here you go, Belle.” Noble passes a glass of red wine her way, then hands one to me.

“I might get emotional,” Bianca warns and her brother cuts her an unimpressed gaze. She scoots the box to show off the classic black, white and red design on the lid and offers a pretend pouty lip. “Noble look–”

“It’s just pizza.” He points. “We’re leaving tomorrow and you can’t get like this.”

I scoff, looking over to narrow my eyes at him. “Um. I think someone else was pretty excited when I offered to pick this up and bring it over tonight.”

He holds up an innocent hand as he swallows a sip of his wine. “I never claimed to be emotional about it.”

My brow draws together, feigning insult. “It’s just pizza?” I question.

He acknowledges the regret with a tilt of his head. “That was out of line, I know.”

With a laugh, I move past him to get to some plates.

***

Sitting in the living room after finishing up dinner, Noble and I wait on Bianca to get ready. We hear her making her way around the guest bedroom, heels knocking the floor with her steps until finally she emerges from the hallway.

“What do you mean partner? I thought that was you!” She questions.

Noble tips his head to roll his eyes from the armchair where he’s waiting. “No, his work partner.”

“Wait, now we’re going out with two cops?” She comes closer into the room while she secures an earring, actually dressed this time in tight black jeans, tall boots and a black sweater.

I look over at her. “What’s wrong with that?”

She offers up this concerned face then rests her hands on her hips. “I don’t know. It just makes me nervous. What all does he know?”

“Just act like you’re meeting anyone else,” I tell her.

With the pull of her cheek, she sticks her tongue out as if that advice is hardly appealing.

“After you,” I go on. “He was the first person I told about Noble and me. And yeah, a little about the case. But we’re not gonna talk about it.”

Bianca draws in a deep inhale. “Alright, are you guys ready then?”

“We’ve been ready,” Noble insists. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” She shakes out her hair, flipping it out of the back of her sweater and turns away. As she walks down the hall to turn out the light, she calls out, “So is he cute?”

“No!” I shout back.

Noble turns off the TV and lets out a heavy laugh as he stands up.

When Bianca returns, she pauses at the dining room table to fit her phone inside her purse. A mischievous smile plays at her lips. “No?”

“Just– no.”

“Is he straight?” She questions.

“He’s too straight,” I tell her as we move to get our coats on. “And you’re not going there.”

[harringrovehouse]

AU where Steve’s Mother is from a small town in the Northern most part of Alaska and they’re just a little too much into Christmas.

Steve takes Billy ‘home’ the second year they’re together, because now Steve’s sure Billy’s the one, the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with and Steve wants his extended family to get to know Billy. So he takes Billy with them to Derevnyasanty, Alaska to the village his grandparents own. It’s rustic, and red and everything is covered with wreaths and holly, and all the residents are much shorter than the standard American. Steve talks Billy’s ear off about his four Aunts and their nine daughters.

“Dancers! All nine of them! It’s nuts man, let me tell you how many times I had to watch their routines growing up!!” Billy watches Steve ramble with a dopey smile on his face. “I have to warn you that my Nana, Mary, she’ll probably try to force feed you milk and cookies the second you get inside the house, we can work those off later, and my Aunt Noel will need our help checking her many, many lists! She’s got one for every member of the family, sorry. I hope Auntie Christy isn’t gonna ask you to dress up as Santa with me, they think it’s funny cause I’m the only boy. Every year I get this huge red coat and this massive black boots but we go to the local children’s clinic and I get to play ‘Santa’ for the day so it isn’t too bad. Aunt Carol is in charge of the deer, she makes sure they’re all penned up for the night and by the time we get there she will just be starting to round them up, can’t wait to see you rope a deer.”

“Just after my body, and at Christmas none the less.” Billy winked and Steve snorted, leaning into the wheel as he laughed.

“My Aunt Tinsel is the youngest, so her kids are pretty young too. They always need help repairing gifts and she’s also in charge of wrapping for the older kids so she’ll definitely need our help at some point.” Steve tossed Bilyl an apologetic look as he turned the car down brick road.

“Tinsel?”

“Yeah. Like the decorations. My family is pretty into Christmas, all my Aunts are born in the summer but they all have Christmasy names. It’s weird but kinda cool.” Steve shrugged. “Even my mom’s name is Christmas themed. She’s Eve, and my Aunt Christy is Christmas. They’re twins.” Billy opened his mouth to ask why on Earth anyone would name their babies Christmas Eve when Steve turned the car again and they came to a stop in front a huge white gold gate. It stood open, a clear invitation that anyone was welcome. Billy stared in awe at the gate, marveling at the beautiful red ribbon that wrapped around the bars, making the whole gate look like a million dollar candy cane. “They never close the gate, I don’t even think the pinpad works anymore.” Steve smiled as he continued up the drive.

Billy marveled as the large main house came into view. It was a huge stone and log cabin, it’s many windows adorn with lights and bushy wreaths. Tiny candles sat on each sill, a bussle of holly under them. Steve beamed at him and Billy stared back, this was a damn winter wet dream.

“Come on, we’ll grab the bags later!” Steve smiled wider and Billy wondered when his cheeks became so red.

“Wear your scarf babe! You’re cheeks are so rosy.” Billy followed Steve out of the car, tightening his scarf as he made his way towards the red front door. A huge pine cone wreath hung between the stain glass panels set in the door. The heavy smell of baking hung around the house, and warmed Billy’s insides. Behind them Steve’s mother and father climbed out of their own car, Eve Harrington smiling ear to ear as she rushed forward, throwing the door open for them.

“Mama! Papa!” She called out. “Tinny! Carol! Christy! Noel!” The sound of dozens of voices chattering away stoped and then an explosion of noise happened, and what seemed to be hundreds of people decended upon them. Billy let out a small yelp as a wave of hands pulled Steve and Eve into the house, leaving him and Jack Harrington standing on the porch.

“Don’t relax just yet.” Jack sent Billy a dark look. “They’ll realize we’re here any second.” And sure enough, a woman slightly older than Eve turned to look at them. Her huge amber eyes widening as she detatched herself from the huge group and made her way to them. She beamed at Billy, and gave Jack a curt look.

“And this must be Billy! Our little Stevie new turtle dove!” Billy nodded, he’s never heard anyone refer to someone’s boyfriend as their ‘turtle dove’. “Hi Jack Frost, blow into to any foreign ports lately?” Billy tired not to snort at the look Jack Harrington gave his sister in law. “Come in! Mama is just finising dinner, once that’s done we’ll put the deer away and then we can eat.” So this must be Aunt Carol, the deer hearder.

Billy followed Aunt Carol into the house, eyes wide as he took in the many, many pictures on the walls. Images of a young Steve sitting a top a man dressed as Santa’s knee, pictures of young Eve and her sister playing with some deer, a huge red wood sleigh filled with boxes and boxes of gifts sitting outside a hospital surrounded by the family and a few of the patients. They looked like such a happy family, it made Billy feel like an imposter.

“Aren’t they lovely!” A warm voice whispered in his ear, and Billy jumped. Behind him stood a plump woman, her grey hair tucked under a limp red cheifs hat. Nana. “We take one every year! The one from last year us above the mantle, come on.” She lead Billy through a maze of halls and into a massive living room. A fire roared in the harth, and a massive 10 foot tall Christmas tree sat in the corner. Presents of every color sat under and in it’s heavy branches. Steve and his mother sat surrounded by people in the middle of the room. Their eyes sparkled, and their skin glowed. Everyone in the room looked like something out of a water color Christmas card. Billy’s mouth fell open, as he watched the scene. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here for Christmas.” Nana said as she tucked her hands into her apron. “Come help me bring out the coco Billy, then I’ll have them all introduce themselves to you properly.” Billy nodded, following Nana into the kitchen. Where a little over a dozen people were working.

They were short people, and Billy felt bad for staring at them until he saw their ears. Pointed ears, that stuck out under their hair and hats. Elfs? One of them smiled, and handed Billy a tray before returning to her large pot. No, people wearing costumes, right! Nana began loading cup after cup onto the tray, smiling as she dropped different colored marshmallows into each of the cups.

“And a blue one for Billy, you’re favorite color.” Billy wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, Steve didn’t need to tell his family everything about Billy! “Come on now dear.” She lead him back into the living room and guilded him to an ornate coffee table and helped him set the tray down. “Okay, now the fun begins!” And then she starter calling out names. The youngest to the oldest. It started with a small girl, Joy, no older than two, who pushed herself up onto shaky legs and waddled over to her grandma. Billy handed her a small sippy cup filled with warm milk and a sinlge pink marshmellow. Five more girls followed little Joy, Faith, Hope, Ella, Fae, Nicole, before Billy was handed his cup, and then Steve, who got a cup shaped like a Santa. His family giggled and Steve blushed, sipping his coco happily nonetheless. Next the last three girls were called, Mary, May and Dove, then their mothers, Tinsel, Noel, Eve, Christmas and Carol. Finally Nana took her cup, blowing softly at the steam. Six cups remained on the tray, Billy glanced down at them wondering for the first time were the husbands and fathers of these girls were. “They’re in the den downstairs dear, watching the game of all things!” Nana laughed. “Papa is in his work shop right now, I was actually wondering if you and Stevie would take him his coco and remind him that dinner is almost ready. He’s so busy at the moment, but his family still needs him.” Nana lifted the only lidded cup and set it in Billy’s free hand.

Steve disentangled himself from his manu aunts and cousins and made his way over to Billy. “Let me guess, we’re on workshop duty?” Nana laughed softly.

“Well someone needs to stay here and make sure the ham doesn’t burn!” Steve pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before taking the cup from Billy and motioning for him to follow.

“My Granddad’s workshop is in the back yard. He builds toy prototypes for a company based in Anchorage.”

“He makes toys?” Billy asked, carefully avoiding a second smaller tree in the hall that lead to the backdoor. A pile of boots lay next to the door, coats of every color and size lay on the bench next to the huge pile, Steve picked through them before eventually finding his and Billy’s.

“Yeah. Toys of every kind! Some stay here in the US, others go overseas to like Japan and stuff.” Billy shrugged his coat on, taking the cup back from Steve who shrugged his coat on while Billy waited by the back door. “You’d be surprised how in demand toys are.” Steve lead him out of the backdoor and down a stone path, to a second even larger cabin. Smoke billowed from the many chimneys and music could be heard from just behind the doors and windows. Steve didn’t even bother knocking, just pushed his way inside. Billy followed at a slower pace, every bit of Steve family home was amazing. This workshop was filled with toys, old toys, new toys, pictures of toys that dated to the victorian era if Billy was correct.

His mind whirled. Steve’s family was in the toy making business, had been for apprently hundreds of years, they employed short people with ears so pointy they could probably pop balloons, they were obsessed with Christmas, had a freaking deer in their yard. This had to be a joke, Billy turned to smile at Steve who seemed utterly clueless that Billy’s mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. There was no way, Steve’s familt wasn’t, they couldn’t be.

“Oh! There he is!” Steve said pointing up the winding stairs to a figure. A figure all in red, with heavy boots on and a fuzzy hat.

Billy watched, mouth open as the man turned around to face them. His cheeks red, and his smile huge. His belly shook as he laughed, a latge booming ‘Stevie!’ echoed around them followed by what could only be described as a ‘hohoho’. Billy felt Steve take the cup of coco from him, which was good because Billy was sure he was about to faint as he watched his boyfriend cross in front of the many workers to embrace Santa Claus.

[thiskryptonite]

Faerielands

Tagging: Aria Fawn, Alexander “Vitalis” Drakos, August Knight

Timeframe: January 13th - January 19th, 2019

Location: Ashbourne, The Otherworld, Faerielands

Notes: Sarau Event, as awarded for completion of task: nostalgia. August receives an invitation to attend a Sarau hosted by High Queen Nymphadora of the Faerielands. August was permitted to bring a +1 and so he opted to bring Aria while Xander escorted them from Ashbourne, through the Otherworld, and into the Faerielands within. 

August

August had spent the last twenty-four hours preparing, the High Queen had not given him much notice, and no small part of August couldn’t help but feel that the court had decided to do so intentionally. There were a million questions that ran through his mind, though what he should wear was least among them. The Otherworld was dangerous, more so even than Ashbourne, and at the heart of it all, sat the Unseen Realm. A place where, as far as he was aware, few witches had ever been brought to before. Arrogance would’ve liked him to believe that he’d earned such an honor, but Aria had been quick to remind him that there were several other witches that were much more highly esteemed. He’d done a job for a Fae before, in what now felt like another life, but August could not see how the two might be related. What could he possibly offer a Queen?

It was a serious question, he’d asked around and apparently it was customary to offer her something. He did not know what an Earthborn-Fae Queen might desire, but he’d rooted around special through his belongings to find something that was by no means commonplace. His hands closed around the jar as it thumped lightly, a black cloth was draped over and sealed beneath the lid, but there was a warmth that came through the glass still. To say it was taboo would be an understatement, and parting with it was not something August enjoyed doing, but if his offering did not make him suffer in some way, somehow, he doubted it would do very well to appease the High Queen. He’d chosen simple attire for the ceremony, August was an undertaker and truthfully, he didn’t own anything that would come close to the likely impossible standards of such a race, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least willing to put in some effort. He even shaved. August tucked the bell jar into the breast pocket of his jacket, it rested over his own heart, the offbeat, rhythmic thumping so close to his own was off-putting at first, but he acclimated quickly. He’d left the funeral home early and was leaving now from his apartment, dusk was approaching, and August needed to make sure he met up with Xander and Aria before they headed into the woods together. August positioned himself near the edge of the wood, in the clearest path to the Sacred Tree and shot an updated text to Xander and Aria about where he was waiting. Dusk was still half an hour away, but August could feel himself tensing and relaxing reflexively. He was nervous, he never got nervous.

Xander

Xander had taken his sweet, sweet time to pick out what he was going to bring for the faerie queen. He'd given her many gifts over the centuries he'd been alive, but he always fell back on the golden and jeweled treasures from the ancient world. Humans had made many, many wonderful things. And he'd met so many witches who had gifted him with different objects as well. However, the treasures of Egypt and Greece looked splendid in the faerie realm, and he was always one who drifted towards the glitter and shine of earthly treasures. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't know when to part with them. He'd been going to the Otherworld anyway, but it'd been centuries since he'd taken someone like August along – let alone whoever he was bringing. The faerie hardly looked out for anyone but himself, and it was rare that he even cared for a human's wellbeing. Witches were different, maybe. "August – what did you bring for the Queen?" he asked curiously, walking up in a simple jeans and t-shirt combo. In a moment, however, it shimmered into a black suit, the lapels dusted with what looked like glitter because of course he had to shine. "And who did you decide to drag along to the orgy? I hope they know what they're getting into."

Aria

Lately, Aria rarely attended parties . Her wardrobe had old, worn dresses that probably didn’t even fit her anymore. Otherwise she might have not even bothered commissioning something new from Kolya. Even now as she looked herself over in the mirror, she would have taken the thing off and resolved to wear something old and worn that she was comfortable with if not for the fact she was seeing the one and only High Queen in the Faerielands. The dress was high quality and gorgeous, very suitable for a royal faerie audience, there was no doubt about that… but it was not at all Aria’s style. It was far too much for her tastes, even if it might appeal to fae folk. Aria frowned at her reflection as she turned on the spot to see all sides of it. Well, this was it. With a quick goodbye to her Familiar and a dagger strapped to her thigh underneath the dress, Aria left her home and made towards the meeting spot. The dress wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, Kolya had made sure of that, but it felt uncomfortable to know she had something like that on herself. So as she caught sight of August in the distance and his friend, she could only feel her tension rise. To make matters worse, she walked up just in time to hear something about an orgy. “Excuse me?” Aria asked, raising a brow and waiting for the man to turn. “Did you say orgy? Because I did not sign up for that.” She turned her sights to give August a look.

August

August was pleased to see Xander, and then Aria following a short distance behind him. The fae’s attire seemed boring but was typically deceptive as he all but shimmered into a black suit, it wasn’t anything wholly extravagant and absently August let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He just wanted to make a good impression, and Aria was all but gliding as she walked, August could guess who the tastemaker was behind her attire, but he wouldn’t comment. He looked up at Xander’s question and a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, though he supposed that his friend would know best. “I took a guess – I wasn’t really sure what she’d be into, but,” he withdrew the jar from his jacket, there was a light red glow from beneath the black drape, it shimmered with an ethereal light as well when he lifted the drape. “Heart of the beast, still beating.” As if on cue he heard Aria start objecting almost immediately, “Ariana Fawn, a fellow witch.” August said evenly, not at all certain if the two of them had any sort of history together already or not. “Relax, I’m pretty sure the orgy isn’t mandatory.” He was pretty sure, anyways. They started into the forest, headed for the Sacred Tree. His attention directed between the two of them, “did you two also bring an offering for the High Queen?”

Xander

Xander huffed out a laugh, glancing at Aria, "Sometimes they're optional." He was mostly joking. Mostly. The fae hummed a little bit, nodding towards Aria, "Call me Xander. I'm your tour guide for the next few hours – so, anyway, now that we're all happy and together, can we get going?" He glanced back at the offering August had mentioned, and he gave a small smile, "She'll like that. She appreciates things that are difficult to part with – shows you mean it." The air fae turned towards the tree, taking it in before he reached out, the Hidden Gateway clear to him as day. "I brought something a little holder than I am. I always bring jewelry; something pure gold with lapis lazuli." He turned back towards his two companions, taking in a breath, "Ground rules for the Otherworld. Don't touch anything, it might bite back. I wish I could say I was kidding, but honestly, who knows what'll happen to you two if you lose me. So don't lose me, got it? And no, I don't want to hold your hand, August. So if you can follow these simple rules, are we ready to go?"(edited)

Aria

Aria glared at August. “You didn’t tell me to bring anything!” Muttering unintelligibly to herself, she put out her hand and then worded a conjuring spell. A moment later, a tiny jewelry box appeared on her palm. “I told you to do your research, August and tell me.” She started to take off the large pearl ring was wearing, one ocean pearl nestled into the gold circle around her finger with intricate swirling patterns. “Now my most expensive, antique ring will have to do.” She grumbled as she placed it into the jewelry box and shut it. Aria knew she should have done her own research but with getting a dress appropriate for the hugely important event ready, there’d been hardly enough time to read on the Otherworld, let alone the High Queen. She looked up at the stranger and sighed. “It’s Aria,” she said, correcting August. “Pleasure.” Aria didn’t seem all too excited about meeting Xander but that had more to do with the stress of doing something she’d never done before. Passing this up would be passing up the opportunity of a lifetime when one wasn’t a fae. But Aria couldn’t help the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that she didn’t know enough of what she was getting herself into. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Lead the way.”(edited)

August

“Yeah, we should, I really don’t want to know what happens if we’re late.” Approval was a good sign, but he couldn’t be certain until he had presented it to the Queen herself. He tucked the jar away as Aria and Xander got acquainted. Not even Aria and Xander’s jabs could shake him, the excitement was buzzing under his skin like a sort of static. A current that was compelling him onwards, absently he had wondered if it was some work of the Otherworld, some assurance he’d make it there. August of course knew that wasn’t the case, he was a kid in a candy store and wordlessly he approved of Aria’s offering, even though it was never something she’d intended to give up. Maybe the High Queen would even recognize that. “Must’ve slipped my mind,” he breezed, though somewhere he was incredibly jealous at the addition of the golden laurel leaves to her attire, why didn’t I think of that? “Do you know any Fae?” “Super dangerous, don’t touch anything, got it,” August winked, eager to press through the portal and follow through to the Otherworld. Where Arachne called home, where there was still so much that he did not understand. The fae were trapped as well, there could be puzzle pieces hidden beneath the surface of this Sarau, and while he recognized that it was a party. A chill passed through the air as they went through the gateway, a fog rolled over the surroundings; so dense and thick that it could swallow any of them if they wandered more than a few feet from one another. August noted that even though Xander and Aria were only a couple feet from him, already their visage was distorted, grey and distant like a curtain was being drawn between them. They were in the woods, just as they’d been a moment ago, but their surroundings were distorted in a way, like he was looking at the Forest of Eyes as it was reflected in a shallow pond: far and reaching. Shadows crawled and played tricks of light, and August, was exhilarated.

Xander

Xander didn't comment on anything else, finding it amusing that August left out important details. He simply made his way forward, the old path familiar as it always had been. "I spent decades here at a time," he murmured, though he didn't care much if they weren't listening. The Otherworld was a lot to take in – and it was easy to get pulled astray by words and whispers of answers people didn't even know they were seeking. For the fae, however, it was almost just as much home as the faerielands were. "It's always spring in the realm of the fae. Constant wind, my favorite, and parties that last weeks. Sometimes it's hard to remember that there aren't very many of us still out there." Xander took in a deep breath, the winter chill hitting his arms, even as his eyes began to glow. His human form was still somewhat present, though his skin was slowly becoming iridescent. Glowing green eyes turned back towards August and Aria, "If you ever try to come here without one of us, you'll get pulled into that," he glanced back towards the fog and distorted vision of a forest. "You can say you have the most self-control out of everyone, but it'll still happen. You just need to hope you survive. Any questions? Hope you feel better about it."

Aria

“Just one,” she muttered in response to August’s question. But she didn’t elaborate. The prospect of venturing into the Otherworld had her feeling on edge. And it wasn’t all apprehension for the bad feeling she had. In fact, most of what she felt was pure excitement. It wasn’t everyday the daughter of Ashbourne got to venture outside the norms of town. Her skin tingled and her eyes were alight with attention and elation hidden well beneath her stern visage. Aria had no intention of making it easier for the group to lower their guard by seeming childishly excited. She kept that to herself as well as she could as she followed August and Xander into the gateway. As soon as they were through, Aria held her breath in amazement. The fog lingered between her fingers as she moved them and crept along the folds of her long dress like snakes. It was eerie but it was different. And different was always what she’d longed for. Aria listened to Xander, nodding vaguely afterwards and returning her gaze to her surroundings. “I’m not planning on getting lost or dying today,” she muttered softly. “And how exactly are we finding the place from here?” Part of her hoped there wasn’t too much walking involved. Her heels were higher and thinner than usual.(edited)

August

For a moment, August thought the shifting gray that has seeped between the three of them was altering his perception, while Aria appeared the same, it was Xander’s eyes as they pierced the gloom of the Otherworld that first caught his attention as he listened to the fae’s explanation, directing his question towards Xander, “so I take it you know the High Queen well, then?” He knew Aria had been concerned about the safety of this venture, and had mentioned bringing along a weapons - just in case. He was happy to see Stevros was not with her, August had no intention of having to summon his own familiar again so he had assumed Aria would have the foresight to leave her own on the other side. “Did you bring anything? You know, in case this goes south?” He didn’t think there was much they could bring that would be in any way effectual against the High Queen, but he was curious, just in case they did need to make a run for it. It was not news to anyone that the Otherworld was dangerous, at least not to him, his aunt, a conjurer like himself, had drilled the dangers of spirits and the other side into his head for years and years. “So it’s even worse somehow than the actual Forest of Eyes. Great.” He looked between the two of them, “we should keep moving, then.”

Xander

Xander refrained from rolling his eyes, trying to remember that these two were basically toddlers to him at this point. Despite that, he didn’t really want anything to happen to them. “Aria, isn’t it? I recommend not attempting anything if this goes south. You’ll be horribly outnumbered, and useless against fae glamour that’ll make you spin your head. The queen is...close with all the fae. You learn the ways of tradition really early on, and it doesn’t change.” Xander’s eyes shifted from green to a bright blue, the blue iridescence settling into his skin and glimmering shirt. “You don’t understand that this is literally our world; you should only focus on what the queen wants from you.” The air fae took in a deep breath, a smirk tugging at his features, “We’re almost there. Any questions? Once we reach the palace, you’re going to be left to your own devices. Fae will stare, probably, so don’t get into anything you shouldn’t. And if you want in on an orgy, Aria, you only have to ask.”

Aria

“No, I didn’t,” she lied. Xander was not someone she trusted just yet. She looked over to August, wondering if maybe he would understand the subtle look she shot him that yes, she had brought something. But no, she didn’t trust their fae company enough to share she was willing to stab them if things got bad. Aria then looked over to Xander as he addressed her and tried not to roll her eyes. Maybe she’d be more tame when it came to having August with her, but she was not the docile type. If things went south, there would be no holding back with her once reason failed. She tried not to worry about it - reason rarely failed with her. Instead, she tried to focus on admiring all the beautiful colors that seemed to come out of Xander. It was like his own personal aurora and she wished, not for the first time, that she could take a picture of the view. “Good to know,” she muttered sarcastically. Aria nervously pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and inhaled deeply. Staring was something she was rather used to but staring by a bunch of shiny fae while she was wearing something so strange to her and in a place she had no confidence in was new. And some of her excitement gave way to a little more nerves once more.(edited)

August

He picked up on Aria’s cue, truthfully, he could have guessed that she had brought something. She was the one who had mentioned bringing along something for self-defense, just in case, and rarely had August known her to ever show up unprepared. With their exchange he hoped to provide a follow-up piece of information traded only through their eyes as Aria stated she hadn’t brought any such thing. She was probably right not to trust Xander, but when he’d needed answers and safe passage, it was the air fae who had provided. Just the same, he would not be caught unarmed, either. He couldn't help but wonder what Xander would do, though, in truth, August didn't need to ask. As he'd said, this was Xander's world, this was his home, and this Queen was a friend of his. “Never?” Came August’s question, never was a long time for tradition to remain unchanged, inflexible came to mind. He wondered if it was possible for the High Queen to be close with all the fae under such circumstance, as Xander had stated. “What happens to the fae who try to break or change tradition?” Rigid formality was not something he excelled at, quite the opposite, August had a habit of breaking such things. “Sounds charming,” August rolled his eyes, he was already ready to feel this warmth that Xander had mentioned, “I’m used to getting ogled by fae so shouldn’t be too far of a break from the norm,” August quipped, “seriously though, do you have any ideas why she might have summoned me? – Us?”

Xander

Xander only hummed, though he wasn’t ignorant. He chose not to ask what the look was for, as it was most likely none of his business. He laughed a little at her indignant attitude when she rolled her eyes, but he simply figured they’d learn the hard way if they didn’t believe what he said. “We’re not like that, August. I guess I worded that wrong. Tradition keeps us safe; what’s there to change? It’s not like we’re waging wars or doing something outside of tradition.” “Are you? Can’t say I’ve ever met a fae in the water wheel who was mildly interested in you when I’m standing right there,” the air fae’s smile was wicked as he teased August, managing to keep the air light despite the murky fog seemingly closing in around them. “We’re almost there. Stay close, and don’t stray from the path. It gets messier the closer we get,” he murmured, mostly unbothered. He worried for the humans, though. Voices and figures that offered answers were only false prophets, and well, the Otherworld was unforgiving. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not really any of my business, either. The high queen does everything for a reason. If she shares that with you, then let me know. You just owe me for getting you here safe in the first place. Anyone else might’ve just let you get lost,” he grinned. “The entrance is up ahead. You can call me Xander; here, I go by my given name, Vitalis. Don’t pick any flowers, also. They might kill you.”

Aria

Aria kept herself as close to August as she could without making it obvious the place was starting to chip away at her excitement and play around with nerves more and more. The fog didn’t bother her and neither did the new, strange scenery. Not even the shadows that lurked at the edges of her vision did too much too move her. It was really the voices. The whispers that were filling her ears. Aria did not have a great experience dealing with spirits and whispers when it they didn’t come from Stevros. She was getting wary that they’d get to her or to August before they arrived. Hearing that they almost arrived there quelled her growing worries just a little. “We’re going into the faerielands as the only witches, no defenses and no idea what they want with us… And all we have as backup is our sassy designated tour guide…” A pause. “Sounds great.” Aria smiled to herself and walked past the two boys, eager to get out of the fog and into the place they were meant to be in. Finally - a place unseen by her eyes. She made sure August was right by her before making her way through and finally taking in her new surroundings. Her breath hitched in her throat almost immediately. As long as there wasn’t any trouble for her or August, this was going to be amazing.

August

“I suppose that makes sense.” August didn't know enough about their cultures or their traditions really to comment, and truthfully, he didn’t need to know what happened to the fae who broke tradition, but rarely could a wheel spin eternally without ever needing a change. Still, the conversation was a good distraction from the spirits that attempted to ebb at his mind. He wasn’t unfamiliar. August had sent enough people to this place to know he needed to be mindful of what was and was not real. His mother screaming for help, then in another instant promising to tell him everything she’d kept from him. There was Cassandra in his peripherals, standing amidst the fog as she leaned languidly against a tree – she was beautiful, she’d always been beautiful, but her head was in the same mangled condition that he’d left it in when he buried her. There were others, but they were distant enough that he could block them out. His father hung with a broken neck, another face he was still trying to forget. More still of people whose names he’d never bothered to learn, faces he only recognized because they recognized him. Nearest the gate, however, there stood Lisa, and for a moment he faltered. He had not seen her die, had not known if he’d succeeded. He’d been too afraid to ever find out, his eyes fixed but he tried to shake her, though her lips never parted, her eyes never wavered, she spoke to him: foolish boy.

He kept his thoughts trained on Xander and Aria, though the Otherworld was beginning to take its toll. “How could anyone ever see past that big head of yours, Vitalis?” August quipped as he tested the Fae’s true name across his tongue, though a smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth. He could feel the warmth of the faerielands, and although he needed to walk right past his aunt lisa, he did not look twice. The faerielands were more than he had ever expected, flowers bloomed beautifully all around them, a magic nature almost calling to him. He suspected that to be their nature and could only imagine the agony that the no touching rule would put Aria through. August marveled at the architecture, the fountains, the stones, the trees, even the lushness of the grass. It had been years since he’d seen anything not draped in the dreary clouds of Ashbourne, dredged in death and misery, this place was bursting with life. He looked to Aria, fully aware that he was in the company of two people who liked to talk a lot, it was nice, although August was still unnerved he did his best not to show it. “Aria we should try and stick together if we can,” though already he had an urge to wander into the nearest well of wine he could find and drown himself(edited)

Xander

Xander paused at the threshold, watching August as carefully as he could. His shoulders eased their tension when the witch finally walked into the fae lands. He allowed himself a smile, though he still didn’t feel like he was home. They were all trapped here. One could throw in their everlasting paradise; the prison walls of Ashbourne were only hidden from view. “Maybe one day you’ll come back when we’re all free from this place.” Vitalis turned towards his company, “I know you both think yourselves all powerful and capable, but remember you’re in the presence of our high queen, and you can easily die here. So try not to cause too much trouble.” With that, Vitalis continued to walk, the iridescent faerie reflecting the same blue that littered the water nearby. Since air was his element, a silver glow finally took over his eyes, replacing the earlier blue. It was his true form, and the silver iridescence set in completely. As he walked towards the palace, he motioned to the doors, “This is the only way in or out, really. Don’t wander through the faerielands without someone else. It’s still dangerous - spirits are everywhere. Anyway, the queen will probably summon you. Or, there’ll be a line where you enter to give her your offering.” He turned to face Aria and August, silver glowing eyes shining with mirth, “Good luck. I have other people to see.”

[dipulb3]

2022 Volkswagen Golf GTI is predictably top-notch

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2022-volkswagen-golf-gti-is-predictably-top-notch/

2022 Volkswagen Golf GTI is predictably top-notch

There’s a full-width LED running light hidden between the headlights. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like a unibrow at night.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

We have no choice but to warn you that this entire review is one big tease. The pair of 2022 Volkswagen GTIs we tested have German front license plates, a forewarning of sorts, since the eighth-gen GTI is still months away from going on sale in the US, along with its higher-performance sibling, the Golf R. If you can keep it in your pants, though, the reward will be worth it, because VW’s latest hot hatch is such a delight.

Like

Torquey turbo four-pot

Sharp handling

Plaid!

Don’t Like

Iffy front-end styling

Dumb new cup holders

The Volkswagen Golf is not a car of radical reinvention, and the 2022 GTI’s style more than reinforces that notion. From the rear, the hatchback looks more like a refreshed seventh-gen, with some more polygonal taillights and some additional bumper creases. Only forward of the A-pillars do you begin to see some true newness. But I’m still not fully sold on the sloping-brow front end, which gives the car a dose of Geico caveman aesthetic. The full-width running lights and quintuple-hexagon fog lights are cool additions, though. The 19-inch alloy wheels look great, too, and while they’re pretty large for a compact car, they don’t look like caricatures, leaving more than enough space for some sidewall meat.

There’s more revolution than evolution inside, and said revolution clearly came for the buttons, because they’re almost all gone. Touch-sensitive panels now cover the steering wheel and dashboard, eliminating nearly every piece of physical switchgear. Provided you’re cool with that, it makes for a clean, uncluttered look. While the general shape of the dashboard has changed, the interior feels just about as roomy as it did before, with ample glass making way for ample sunshine and strong visibility from all sides. The GTI’s plaid seats are back and just as comfortable and supportive as ever; leather is overrated, folks.

Other parts of the interior are a little hit or miss. While the center console’s armrest storage is still small, VW straight-up made the cup holders worse. Now, two drinks are relegated to this weird indentation where a small button pops out a spring-loaded cup holder for smaller-diameter beverages. The problem, though, comes with trying to fit a second drink in there; while it’s possible, anything larger than the smallest Red Bull can is going to smash uncomfortably against the drink next to it, which can spell trouble. Some of the plastics feel flimsier than on its predecessor. Take the “phone house” ahead of the shifter, for example; while we love that it holds a phone in place and out of view, its lid feels like it’s always about 3 seconds from snapping off. The use of piano-black trim on every surface meant for touching means fingerprints will almost always be visible.

Those touch-sensitive bits can prove tricky in other ways. The GTI’s steering wheel buttons are clicky, but they’re also capable of working by a light touch alone, so you can drag your finger along the volume slider and make larger adjustments more quickly. However, accuracy is not great, so your eardrums might get more than they bargained for. Also, VW didn’t think to illuminate the volume and temperature sliders at the bottom of the screen, making any adjustments way more frustrating at night.

If you’ve driven any other recent GTI, the eighth-gen model will feel like second nature.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

VW’s latest infotainment system is a solid step forward, with a fresh aesthetic and an admirable boot time when cold. There’s a home screen that can display multiple types of information at once, and a quick tap of the home button on the left side of the screen makes jumping between pages sufficiently easy. Wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto are nice touches, especially if you’ve been lagging on updating your phone cords, since the 2022 GTI is a USB-C-only affair. The gauge cluster is a screen, now, too, carrying some fun graphics while allowing for a great degree of customizability. An available HUD brings relevant information much closer to my eyes, although we wouldn’t exactly call it necessary given how well the gauges convey things.

All those cares melt away the second you start driving the 2022 VW GTI in earnest. High-quality caning has always been at the heart of the GTI experience, and the eighth-gen car makes no major alterations in that regard. It’s more fun than some sports cars costing twice as much, and it all starts with the GTI’s turbo four-cylinder gas engine, which in its latest iteration produces 242 horsepower and 273 pound-feet of torque, all of which is routed to the front wheels through a standard limited-slip differential and either a six-speed manual or seven-speed dual-clutch transmission.

Using a light foot and short-shifting around town returns smooth, gradual forward motion, but dig a little deeper into the pedal throw and the 2.0-liter EA888 will throw an absolute wall of torque at you, pushing the hatch forward with surprising haste. The clutch pedal is nicely weighted and has a definitive bite point, making for smooth starts and shifts, and the lever itself offers just the right amount of notch as it slinks between gates.

The EA888 might not look like much from a distance, but there’s a mountain of torque emanating from under that engine cover.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

As for the DSG-equipped car we tested in California, it’s more proof that Volkswagen’s dual-clutch unit is one of the best. Yes, it still has a tendency to jerkily engage first gear when starting off, but from that point on, shifts are seamless and quick. The steering wheel-mounted paddle shifters themselves are pretty small, but they offer instant response. If paddles aren’t your thing, you’ll be happy to know the DSG ‘box will hold gears as long as you want in Sport mode, with the cutest little farty brapp with each upshift.

The GTI is positively sublime in the switchbacks. Adaptive dampers eliminate any hint of body roll without making the ride so stiff as to be annoying, and the mode switch also adds a nice bit of weight to the electric power steering. Combined with the aforementioned limited-slip diff, the new GTI is noticeably more agile while cornering. The seventh-gen car was no slouch while carving through California canyons, but the new car is simply more eager to dive into hairpins and offers better traction on corner exit. Honestly, the new GTI is closer to last-gen Golf R levels of on-road excitement.

Yet, when it’s time to chill, rolling in Comfort almost feels like a different car entirely. The stiff damping ceding to a smoothness that dispatches annoying bumps and jostles with very little movement transferring to the occupants; over Michigan potholes and California highway expansion joints, the GTI is a doll. Cabin isolation feels a step above its predecessor, too. In fact, the whole shebang feels significantly more adult without losing sight of the GTI’s inherent playful nature. If there’s one formula that we’re happy to see over and over again with little adjustment, it’s this one.

We’re so far away from the 2022 GTI’s US launch that the EPA has not yet released fuel-economy figures, but that’s what the trip computer is for. Over a couple hundred miles of mixed city and highway, we see around 26 or 27 mpg, which is what the feds rate the outgoing GTI in combined use. Longer stretches of freeway push the needle north of 30 mpg, provided you stop glomming on the throttle just to feel the torque do its thing.

The GTI’s makeover doesn’t mess with that handsome shape.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Even with some newfound power and features — and, assumingly, the slightly higher price tag to match — the GTI’s competition remains about the same as usual. The Honda Civic Si is due to enter a new generation in the near future, and while it’s still available in two body styles (coupe and sedan), it’s not as fun to drive as the GTI. The Hyundai Veloster N gives the VW a pretty solid run for its money, but it’s not available as a true five-door and its cabin simply isn’t as nice. If you want an interior more closely resembling a luxury car, you can step it up with the Mazda3 Turbo, which isn’t a performance variant per se, yet it still moves like one.

The wait will be worth it for the 2022 Volkswagen GTI. The parts that were given a dose of radical reinvention don’t get in the way of the driving experience, which remains as exhilarating and redeeming as ever. There’s a good reason this is the hot hatch by which most are compared, and it doesn’t appear that trend will be changing any time soon.

[merriammusicinc]

How To Connect Your Roland Digital Piano to Bluetooth | Piano Partner 2, GarageBand, Bluetooth MIDI

Introduction

In this article we are going to solve the the age-old question - how do you get your device connected through Bluetooth to your Roland digital piano? When it comes to mobile devices, whether Android devices or iOS/iPad/Apple devices, we have a lot of people who come into our showroom who want to know the quickest, simplest way to hook up their device to their Roland digital piano. Whether you own a Roland FP-10, 30, 60, 90, the DP603 - virtually the entire Roland lineup has Bluetooth connectivity potential. And if you're not using the Bluetooth connection, you're missing out on a huge part of the experience that the latest digital technology provides.

How to Connect Your Roland Digital Piano to Bluetooth Review Video Transcription

The first thing to keep in mind is that there are two separate Bluetooth functions available on most of the Roland products. The first Bluetooth function is being able to stream Bluetooth audio to the piano, which allows you to use the instrument's speakers as if it was a Bluetooth speaker system. Function number two is having a two way MIDI connection between the device and your piano. Almost all of the Roland 88 note digital pianos have that second function. Only some of them have the Bluetooth Audio function. Make sure that you know which of these functions apply to the instrument that you have at home because there's the potential for frustration if you've got an FP-10 and you're expecting to get Bluetooth Audio working since that function isn't available on the FP10.

For the purposes of this article, we're going to use a Roland FP-90 as our example, because this is a model where both of the Bluetooth functions are available. We'll look at Bluetooth MIDI first because this function applies to almost all of Roland's digital pianos. I have spent many hours figuring out a consistent way that I use to get this connected and while it might not be the only way, I can tell you that this method works pretty much without fail.

Connecting With Bluetooth MIDI

Step One

Let's start with step number one, which is making sure that your Bluetooth radio is activated on your piano. If you're using an FP-60, FP-90 or DP603 for example, or any other model that has a graphic display, it's pretty easy to navigate because the function is right in front of you. In the case of the FP90, if you press the 'Function' button, you can use your left and right cursor keys to scroll through the different function options. Eventually, you'll turn over to the Bluetooth MIDI function, which is function number nine on here. From there you'll press 'Enter, which is again the function key, and you can use your left and right cursor to find all the different settings for the Bluetooth MIDI. The very first setting is Bluetooth MIDI 'on' or 'off' and you can use your plus or minus keys to flip it on or off. Once you've switched it to 'on' you're good to go. From there you can exit back out of that menu and we are now ready to connect the device.

If you are using an FP-10, FP-30, or something from the RP series, it's a little more complex in that there's no visual indicator on the screen for you to see the functions. On the FP-10 for example, you are going to hold the function key, and then press C#7 to turn Bluetooth MIDI on, or D7 to turn it off. The combination of Function button plus specific key will depend on which instrument you have, so you'll want to double check the user manual for that.

Step Two

Once your Bluetooth radio is turned on, grab the mobile device you want to connect the piano to. I'm using an iPhone 10 in this case, but the Roland software will connect with any Android device and any relatively recent Apple iOS device as long as the device itself has a fairly current Bluetooth radio system inside it.

The first thing I'm going to suggest you do, and Roland doesn't necessarily tell you to do this but I've seen this come up so many times while troubleshooting which is why I'm mentioning it here, is to turn your Bluetooth radio on in the settings of your mobile device, and even if the piano is showing up as a nearby device you can connect to, you'll want to select 'forget this device'. This avoids some potential problems down the road.

Step Three

Next, get out of the Bluetooth menu, and go into Roland's Piano Partner 2 app (if you haven't done so already, download this free app). Just a heads up, you need to be connected to Wi-Fi or cellular data needs to be on for the Roland Piano Partner 2 app to work.  Once you're in the app, go to the top right corner where it has the settings menu option, and then you'll see three boxes here. Bluetooth MIDI device, connection and initialize app settings. Now, the connection will not list anything so you want to press Bluetooth MIDI device. This is going to pull up all of the devices in the area that you can potentially connect to. You'll see the piano, in this case FP-90, and it will say it's set up for input and output but not connected. Click on that and it will say Bluetooth pairing request, and then click yes to pairing. Now you will see your device is connected. On the piano itself, the little Bluetooth symbol will blink a couple of times which indicates that these two are now ready to talk to each other.

Another useful thing to know is that you can always connect the Piano Partner 2 app to your Roland piano via a hard-wired connection. This connection needs to go from the USB port on the back of your piano (sqaure shaped port), into your USB device.  This will likely require an adaptor, as you'll need to be able to plug a standard USB cable, or USB flash drive into your device.

Step Four

Once the connection is established, Roland Piano Partner 2 detects which model you've connected to, and will download the relevant data so that it offers up all of the different menus settings. This is a really deep app with all kinds of features such as a variety of rhythms you can play along to, and various demo music you can sit back and enjoy. One of my favorite wireless features within the Piano Partner 2 is the ability to wirelessly record MIDI information and play it back as a MIDI track. It's very easy to organize recordings and you have virtually unlimited capacity if you've got a fairly modern smartphone or tablet. One of the most useful applications of that Bluetooth MIDI connection, is being able to use the Piano Partner 2.

Piano Designer

There's another Roland app which should touch on as well which is called Piano Designer. This app is compatible with virtually all of the digital piano models as well and allows you to completely customize the acoustic piano sound of your instrument with parameters like, how open the lid is, cabinet resonance, soundboard type, hammer noise, and many more. You can spend a lot of time tinkering in here to get your ideal piano sound. The Bluetooth MIDI connection also allows you to send MIDI information in and out of popular DA software such as Logic, GarageBand, some educational software, such as Notejoy, Piano Maestro, and things like that.

Connecting With Bluetooth Audio

Now, let's talk about the other type of connection - Bluetooth audio. Again, on the device that has the Bluetooth audio enabled, the FP-90 being the one for this example.

You're going to want to go into the menu make sure that Bluetooth Audio is turned on and enabled, just like we did for the Bluetooth MIDI.

Now, there is no Roland app specifically for Bluetooth Audio as it works directly through the native Apple iOS software, and so you actually need to go to the iOS Bluetooth app within your normal settings.

This is where the FP-90 audio is actually going to show up. Once you're there, you'll simply click on FP-90 on your device and now they'll be paired.

That permits us to go into something like iTunes, select a song, and listen to it as it's streamed through the speakers of your piano. This makes for super easy play along.

Summary

So, let's just quickly review. We've got two different types of functions - Bluetooth Audio, which will only work on some models, and Bluetooth MIDI which almost every Roland digital piano is equipped with. If your piano has a visual menu it's quite easy to turn the Bluetooth on, and if not, you'll need to press the function key and another model specific key on the keyboard itself. For connecting the Piano Partner, make sure you're not connecting through the iOS menu, but rather the software itself. This will be the same when connecting to Piano Designer but for the audio function, you will use the menu on your mobile device.

If you're an Android user, a lot of the tips in this article will also apply. However, there's a known issue with Roland's connecting with Android through their two pieces of software, namely the Piano Partner 2 and the Piano Designer, with some of the features not quite working correctly. That's something both companies are working on and can hopefully get resolved soon.

The post How To Connect Your Roland Digital Piano to Bluetooth | Piano Partner 2, GarageBand, Bluetooth MIDI first appeared on Merriam Pianos

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[cyberphuck]

Golden Afternoon

As much time as we spent together, Adrian and I didn't actually share a lot of classes: we had different homerooms and different lunch periods and were even in different biology classes with the same teacher, like the educational powers that be wanted to keep us apart.

Or his mom did. I didn't know what kind of stuff witches could do. Adrian said she did stuff with plants, but maybe she had a plant that could warp the fabric of reality to keep that pink-haired girl away from her beloved only child. Chastity plant. Cockblock plant.

But she couldn't actually forbid him from seeing me, because even Mrs. Varsh knew that would only lead to me immediately becoming pregnant with his baby or something. So I could still come and visit him in his mom's shop after softball practice.

The best time to hang out with Adrian without his mom looking over our shoulders and making sure we left room between us for the Mother Goddess was just after he closed up the shop, around six. School let out at four, and I got out of softball practice at five thirty, which meant that after taking the bus to the library on Superior street and walking down to what some people called "Broomstick Boulevard" I only had to loiter among the foxglove and bergamot for fifteen minutes before Adrian locked the front door and we could hang out upstairs in the house, or downstairs in his mom's work room, where we were definitely not allowed to be under any circumstances. She kept a lot of cool stuff in there, though.

On a warm, bright afternoon on a day that hadn't bothered deciding whether it was late spring or early summer, I pushed open the door to Mrs. Varsh's apothecary shop, hearing the bell on the door jingle at the same time that magic prickled up my arm. Adrian called the feeling "like a spider wearing stilettos," and it got sharper the stronger the magic was. Sometimes it was pleasant. Other times not so much.

A pink-haired sophomore in dirt-smeared white pants and a Cooperhawks jersey didn't really fit in most places, but I stuck out like a goddamn pink-haired high schooler in a softball uniform in the shop, practically neon-bright in a place that was all earthtones and dusty sunlight filtering through the front window. There were three customers still browsing when I came to lean against the front counter where Adrian was marking things down in a ledger in his awful scribbly handwriting. He flashed me a "too cool and handsome to smile" look in greeting, and I gave him a "it's good to be so much cooler than anyone over thirty" nod back before turning to inspect what were considered impulse buys for a witch: bundles of sage, glass bottles, crystals of every color. Adrian was one of the slouchiest, sneering, fuck-the-system people I knew, so it was always weird to watch him stand up straight and smile charmingly at customers as they approached the counter, the piercings in his lips flashing as he said things like "Good afternoon Ms. Hemlock" and "Yes ma'am" and "Have a wonderful evening, say hello to the other ladies in your coven." I knew his mom was strict about manners, especially when it came to people who could give you crossed eyes and watery shits for a week if you pissed them off, but I still snickered at him and got a sub-zero glare in return.

A couple of sales and "Thank you ma'am, come back soon"s and insincere smiles later, Adrian was finally able to dash up to the front door and lock it, flipping the sign hanging in the window to 'CLOSED.' "I thought that broad with the purple hat was never going to decide what strain of marigold she wanted," he groaned as he came back to the counter. "For fuck's sake, if you've got a rash just get some cream for it. There's a reason western medicine exists, people, it's because it, like, works."

"It wasn't for a spell?"

"Nobody uses marigold in spellwork," Adrian snorted. "It's the main ingredient in poultices for skin conditions. She had her hands bandaged. Either she's been carving runes directly into her palms, which is stupid as hell, or she's got some kind of itch from forgetting to wash her hands after she works."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew."

"Ew is right, and I wish they'd just take it to the clinic, because when mom finds out she's gonna make me wipe everything down with vinegar and lemon again." He leaned against the counter. "As if she isn't already piling work on me. I told her that if she wanted a slave, she should just build a Construct."

My eyebrows went up. "You said that to your mother?"

He shrugged. "Yeah." A pause. "Sort of. But she's been making me do all kinds of boring shit-- grinding down herbs, cleaning out the silk screens, poking plants."

"Grunt work," I said, stepping behind the counter and looking at the boxes of crystals lined up beside the cash register. "I bet you wouldn't have to do that stuff if you were a girl."

He throws his hands up. "I know! I'd be elbow-deep in all kinds of cool witchy shit by now if I were a chick, but I'm not even allowed to practice magic just because I'm a son instead of a daughter. I don't want to wear a pointy hat and dance naked under the moon or anything, I just want to learn to lay runes a little better. I've been looking at them, a little, and I think I can almost understand how they work. If I could just get a little training-- but if I even mentioned it to my mom, she'd freak out."

"That's bullshit." Stuck into a corner beside the register is a little white box about half the size of my hand; I winkle it out with my finger and then pull it towards me to open it.

"She hasn't found out yet, but I've been experimenting with-- oh shit, don't open that, Ash!"

I grin, already pulling the lid off. "What's in there, a horrible gooey demon? Severed finger? Used needle?" Nestled on a bed of cotton is a shiny black stone, a little chunkier than I was used to seeing in the shop. Someone's carved a simple little rune into it, rubbed with gold leaf to make it stand out.

"Don't look, it was supposed to be a surprise," Adrian whined, then shook his head. "God, I'm glad there isn't actually anything dangerous in there, I'd have a hard time explaining your stupid dead ass to my mom when she gets home."

"It's pretty," I said, staring down at it. "...Is it safe to touch?"

"Now you ask me," Adrian muttered. "Yeah, you can touch it. Just don't drop it, it's pretty fragile. I broke two of those damn things carving the rune before I figure out how to do it with a lighter hand."

I lifted the crystal out of the cotton, running a thumb over the rune. "What is it?"

"Black tourmaline." He wasn't looking at me. "It's a pretty standard protection crystal, with a really simple strengthening rune on it to make it, uh, louder." He rolled his shoulders stiffly, trying to look casual and failing. "It's for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah for you, and it was gonna be a surprise but you've got klepto hands apparently," he said, cheeks pink. "I was gonna cage it in something nice, like silver, and get a chain for it so you could wear it around your neck. It dispels negative energy and stuff. I thought you'd like it."

I could feel myself smiling, the crystal warming in my hand. "I do like it. It's really cool."

"...You think so?"

"Yeah. The gold looks good too." I looked up at him. "I know you could get into a lot of trouble for making this for me. It's kind of badass. Thanks, Adrian."

"Uh." He lifted his chin. "Yeah. You're welcome. I mean, you can't have it yet, it's too fragile to just carry around. But, uh. You're welcome."

"You said that." I leaned across the counter to kiss him on the cheek. "Dumbass. Hey, do you think your mom would let you off Saturday? They're doing that music thing in the park. I think it's just a dumb local band, but there's food trucks there too."

"Uh."

"Lots of people from school are going. If you want."

"Yeah, I--" he swallowed. "Yeah, I want. I mean." He cleared his throat. "It sounds okay. I'll go if you're going."

"You can text me tonight," I said, setting the crystal back in it's padded box and replacing the lid. "How long until your mom gets home? I brought that song I keep telling you about. You've got the thing to hook up to your stereo, right?"

Adrian shook his head, as if waking up from a dream. "Somewhere. I think it's in a drawer upstairs. C'mon." - Ko-Fi Twitter: @su1cidesauce

[weeklyhumorist]

The Admissions Committee on Reincarnated Souls (ACORS)

Alan shuffled papers back into a manila folder and placed it atop the tall stack next to him on the table. “Alright, how many more are there?” he asked, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose.

Rodney briefly picked through the messy pile of papers scattered in front of him. “A handful.”

“I have to be out of here by four today,” Susan reminded. “Not sure if I mentioned that before, but—”

“You heard Rodney,” Alan said gruffly. “Let’s press through these last few souls.” He put his glasses back on. “Who’s next on the list?”

“Jim Hodges,” Rodney said, glancing down at an oversized chart written in blue ballpoint pen and littered with coffee stains and streaks of red, yellow, and green highlighter. “Owned a small house-painting business in Indiana. Drinking problem. Threatened his wife a few times, but never any more than that.”

Susan exhaled contemplatively. “I don’t like the sound of the wife-threatening. What do you say we put him someplace where he’ll really have no control? Someone whose entire existence is just to be a human wastebin for others’ misplaced aggression?”

“I see we have an opening for an Associate Marketing Manager in Kentucky,” Rodney said, flipping through a Rolodex.

“Fine,” Susan said, rapping her nails on the table. “Next soul.”

“Amanda Desantis,” Rodney answered. “Born middle class. Died….” he trailed off, skimming the rest of the page he held in front of him, “middle class.” He flipped through pink and yellow carbon-copy pages stapled to the back of the page. “Gave good birthday presents. Dropped out of community college. Never moved to another car when a homeless person got on the subway.”

“Any extracurriculars?” Alan asked.

Rodney looked through the files. “Above-average at drawing 3-D cubes, according to her optional supplement. Here are some samples.” He handed a pad of Post-It notes to Alan.

Alan peered over the rims of his glasses. “I’ve seen better.” He passed the Post-Its to Susan. “She sounds decent, but I’m not seeing that she took advantage of her opportunities, which, of course, is what we’d need to see to consider a promotion.”

“I see she has two girls,” Susan remarked. “Single mother? She could be eligible for our FastTrack to Universal Oneness Jump-Start Initiative.”

  Alan shook his head no. “Section 10-9840.2(b), remember. The cycle of death and rebirth can only be completed by the achievement of pure divinity, or by minority students with an unweighted GPA above 3.75.”

  “Well, maybe she’s there?” Rodney suggested. “I’m not seeing anything bad in this file.”

  Alan tsked. “Really? Amanda Desantis is our standard-bearer for pure divinity now? It’s says here she’d post a ton of stories to Instagram.”

  “How many stories are we talking?” Susan asked.

  “Fifteen. Like everyday.” He squinted at the page. “And she preferred Michael McDonald’s versions of Motown songs.”

  Susan whistled through her teeth.

  Alan shrugged. “I say we reincarnate her as Amanda Desantis.”

  “Alrighty, Amanda’s taking a mulligan.” Susan grabbed a rubber stamp from the table, pressed it down firmly on the top page of the stack in front of her, and then tossed the entire file over her shoulder. “Next?”

  Rodney thrust his hand into the pile of manila folders in the center of the table and pulled one out. “Sparky. Labrador Retriever. Liked to lay in the sun for a while and then move into the shade. Killed a squirrel once.”

  “I always like it when dogs have people names,” Susan commented. “Like George. George the dog.”

  “There’s a note in the file that Sparky is a potential candidate for our First Generation Human Adult Fellowship.”

  “Do we think he’s ready for that?” Rodney asked.

  “Says here he was early acceptance to stillborn in his previous life.” Alan flipped through the pages in the file. “Obviously, not a lot he could do to prove himself at that time, but he built on that experience to come back as a Lab this time.” He pointed to the top line of the page before him. “Before that, he was a poodle.”

  Susan removed a sheet of heavy cream-colored stationary from her folder. “He does have a letter of recommendation,” she interjected. “I’m sure we all remember Bowser, the seeing-eye dog who’s now a state senator in California.” Rodney and Alan murmured solemnly. “Bowser and Sparky were apparently in the same doggy day center for many summers. Bowser learned a great deal from Sparky about sitting, staying, and looking adorably sad to get behind-the-ear-scratches.”

  “He sounds like a strong candidate. But I see here he was only in the middle of his obedience school class,” Rodney cautioned. “We don’t want another Carter Page situation on our hands.”

  “Everyone knows those obedience school tests favor German Shepherds,” Susan grumbled, glancing at her watch.

  “I’m sold,” Alan declared. “That doctor we like in Maine is expecting a boy soon. Sparky will love growing up to become an adult ultimate frisbee coach.”

  Rodney nodded in assent. “His strengths will come in handy there.” He glanced down at his sheet. “Next, we have Hank Thomas. African-American. Ninety-two. Drove a cab in Manhattan for fifty-seven years. Loved jazz. Devoted husband, father, and grandfather. Apparently wrote some poetry on the side. Penned a song in his twenties, but some guy downtown stole the rights and made a mint on it.”

  Alan chewed the inside of his lip. “We can bring him back as a white guy,” he decided.

  “Sounds good.” Rodney made a sweeping check mark next to Hank’s name and dropped the paper onto a pile to his left.

  “And then one item of outstanding business,” Susan said briskly, as she pulled a banker’s box out from under the table, blew a thin layer of dust off the lid, and removed a stack of yellowed pages. “We still have some undecided celebrity files that have to be dealt with by the end of the month, per the guidance issued on April 14. As you know, we’ve been unsure how to resolve the many contradictions in the John Lennon file for decades now.”

  “Oh, I was thinking about this on the train the other day,” Rodney said. “How about we bring him back as the only child of that lady who’s been dying to have a son, Alana Finkelstein?”

  “She’ll eat him alive,” Alan chuckled. “You know what we always say, be careful what you wish for.”

  Susan nodded and made a small notation on the page. Then she rolled up the paper, secured it in a plastic canister, and sent it zipping up a pneumatic tube mounted in the corner of the room. “Is that it, then?”

  “I’m afraid we still have the Associate Messiah matter to wrap up.”

  Susan slumped down in her seat and groaned.

  “We’ve had virtually no one in the Upper Great Lakes since our last messiah was beat to death outside of that strip club in Duluth,” Rodney said emotionlessly, thumbing through a banker’s box to his right.

   “Does it even matter?” Susan complained. “We still have our District Manager of Messianic Operations in Chicago, and he seems to be holding down the fort alright.”

  Alan shook his head. “We really need boots on the ground. Reports out of the area are showing increased levels of theft and masturbation.”

  Susan sighed. “Who are our top candidates, then?”

  “Well, we’ve got Sam Riley,” Rodney said. “The guy who volunteered at the soup kitchen once a week and recycled. He sent a check to the ACLU last January after the travel ban.”

  Alan inclined his head slightly. “Bachelor’s from Vassar, right? We’re familiar with the Rileys, I believe. Fine family.”

  Rodney nodded in agreement. “Of course, we’re all appreciative of the Riley Multimedia Center.” Susan rolled her eyes. “Or we have Valencia Rodriguez. Activist and community organizer based out of Detroit, so she would be somewhat local. Vegan. Lent her boyfriend $3000 once and never got it back.”

  “Well, she sounds promising,” Susan said, brightening. “It sounds like she has a propensity for leadership. Strong empathy levels.”

  Alan wrinkled his nose. “It says here she participated in slam poetry readings from 1988 to 2015.” He tsked. “Bearing in mind the clarifying regulations issued by the Board after the Martin Luther King, Jr. assassination, we try to avoid promoting potentially divisive individuals to this position.” He glanced at Susan. “Also, we could really use a small fitness center for some of the diabetics we’re reincarnating as lacrosse players.”

  “So Sam, then?” Rodney asked.

  Alan nodded. “We’ll start him off as Associate Messiah on a three-month probationary period, pending review and permanent installment.”

  “Sure,” Rodney agreed, “although there’s going to be pretty fierce competition for this guy from the South American branch. He did spend a summer backpacking in Patagonia after his sophomore year.”

  “We’ll throw him a Magdalene,” Alan shrugged. “Besides, if he has any interest in transcending the physical world and becoming pure energy, we offer much more substantive opportunities, anyway.”

  “Terrific,” Susan said, standing and slapping the tabletop definitively. “I gotta skate. I made plans to play dominos with the Buddha at six.”

The Admissions Committee on Reincarnated Souls (ACORS) was originally published on Weekly Humorist

[hindiworld]

August 08, 2018 at 03:36AM Microsoft Surface Laptop Review

HIGHLIGHTS

The Surface Laptop has a unique Alcantara fabric layer on its inner deck

Performance is good for everyday work, but connectivity is limited

The Surface Laptop is available in five different configurations in India

We waited years for Microsoft to launch its Surface tabletsin India, and it's taken even longer for the Surface Bookand Surface Laptop to arrive. This family of devices is meant to showcase Windows to the best possible extent - they're all unapologetically premium, but more than that, they're genuinely fresh and interesting. Microsoft is competing with its own partners by pushing out PC hardware, and is emphasising design and engineering to set itself apart. It's pretty obvious that Apple's success integrating hardware and software has influenced this strategy.

Of all the Surface devices, the Surface Laptop is the most conventional. It isn't a 2-in-1, and it doesn't have a fancy engineered hinge or kickstand. It's meant to strike a balance between portability and productivity, and will appeal to those for whom the Surface Pro with its keyboard cover won't cut it.

Microsoft Surface Laptop design

Everyone who sees photos of the Surface Laptop will want to know how its fabric deck feels, and honestly, it isn't easy to describe even though we've used it before on the Surface Pro's Type Cover. Alcantara is a material that's 68 percent polyester and 32 percent polyurethane, and it's a bit like suede with a slightly waxy coating. It isn't perfectly smooth, but it doesn't have the texture of cloth either. It didn't fray or come undone even when we scratched it hard, and it's moulded like plastic around the keyboard tray. The Alcantara extends all the way to the edges of the deck and is pinched down, leaving room for a fingernail to help you lift the lid when it's closed.

The material is supposed to be resistant to spills and stains, and Microsoft even says it can be cleaned with warm water and mild soap, two things we wouldn't want anywhere near a laptop. We can't yet say how well it will hold up to long-term use, especially for people who tend to use their gadgets while eating.

It's worth pointing out that the fabric has one major downside - it's permanently stuck on to the metal chassis. The only way to replace or repair anything on the inside of this laptop is to rip the layers apart with a knife, and there's no putting it back together after that. In fact, when the Surface Laptop first launched in the USA, it famously received a repairability index score of zero from iFixit.

As for the rest of this laptop, it's fairly minimalist but still very noticeable. The lid has a simple matte aluminium finish, but with a prominent and highly reflective Windows logo in the centre. Microsoft has said that it isn't bringing the Burgundy, Cobalt Blue, or Graphite Gold options to India, which is a pity. The lid is pretty thin and it does bend and flex under pressure, but surprisingly there's no distortion whatsoever on the screen. The hinge is sunken and completely hidden under the fabric layer. It feels firm, and at least on our brand new unit, the lid didn't fall even if it was left just barely open. Overall, despite its waif-like appearance, the Surface Laptop seems to be built very well.

The lack of connectivity will be a huge concern for many buyers. The Surface Laptop is even more minimalist than the MacBook Air, with only a single USB 3.0 port, a 3.5mm audio socket, and a Mini-DisplayPort for video output. There isn't even an SD card slot. Many ultraportables are light on ports, but the Surface Laptop isn't even that thin or light. In this day and age we would have expected USB Type-C and preferred Thunderbolt 3, but most people will be fine with the far more common Type-A standard.

Your only relief comes in the form of Microsoft's Surface Connect Port, the tab-like slot on the right used by the bundled charger, which also supports Microsoft's Surface Dock. This accessory will give you four more USB 3.0 ports, two more Mini-DisplayPorts, Gigabit Ethernet and another audio output, but it's listed for Rs. 17,560 online in India, which is an absurd amount to pay.

The ports are also a little hard to reach thanks to the Surface Laptop's inward-slanting sides. Slotting the charger into the narrow Surface Connect Port in particular is an extremely fiddly process, and we wound up having to lift the laptop and bend over to see exactly what we were doing each time.

Next to the ports on either side of this laptop are white patches that look a lot like the antenna lines that are now common on smartphones. They stand out quite distinctly, and unfortunately they look like additional ports or slots that have been blanked out.

The keyboard has one major quirk, which is the placement of the power button. Microsoft obviously wanted the Delete key to be in the corner above the Backspace key, but we found ourselves still likely to hit the power button by accident. It also isn't flatter or stiffer than the keys surrounding it, which would have been the obvious precaution to take. The Fn row has been displaced by the paging keys and various shortcuts, but you can swap the keys' primary and secondary roles by simply tapping the Fn modifier once, which is quite convenient.

The Surface Laptop is only 14.47mm thick at its thickest point, and weighs only 1.25kg. It's super portable and super convenient to whip out of a sling bag or backpack. The only thing you get in the box with the Surface Laptop is its proprietary 44W charger, and we love its integrated USB port. You might not have enough ports on the laptop itself, but you can at least charge your phone on the go. However, we found the power cable to be a bit too short.

Microsoft Surface Laptop specifications and software

Microsoft is selling the Surface Laptop in five different configurations, ranging in price from Rs. 86,999 to Rs. 2,33,999. At the bottom of the stack you get an Intel Core i5-7200U CPU with integrated Intel HD Graphics 620, 8GB of RAM, and a 128GB SSD. The top-end variant has a Core i7-7660U processor with Intel Iris Plus Graphics 640, 16GB of RAM, and a 1TB SSD. This is a pretty wide range, and so the Surface Laptop competes with premium thin-and-light models including the MacBook Air as well as luxury laptops and 2-in-1s such as the Lenovo Yoga 920 and Dell XPS 13 9370. It's worth noting that these 7th Gen Intel Core processors are nearly two years old and significantly weaker than current offerings. It's also surprising that Microsoft has launched such expensive variants here but not the entry-level ones with Core m3 processors and 4GB of RAM.

We're reviewing the variant priced at Rs. 1,14,999, which has the Core i5, 8GB of RAM, and 256GB of storage. Considering that the RAM and SSD are soldered to the motherboard and there's no access to them anyway, you're going to want to account for future needs right from the start. Upgrades are simply not possible.

The touchscreen measures 13.5 inches diagonally but has a unique old-school 3:2 aspect ratio. Microsoft chose this squarish shape for its Surface tablets, and it makes sense when trying to use a device in portrait or landscape. While the look is consistent here, it isn't necessarily useful. You might think of it as extra vertical space or reduced width. It isn't the best choice if you watch a lot of videos or need to work on two documents side by side, but it works well for general productivity.

The resolution is completely non-standard at 2256x1504, and makes for a density of 201ppi. Windows 10 scales to 150 percent by default and we found this to be comfortable and crisp. This might not be a 2-in-1, but the touchscreen can still come in handy. We didn't wind up using touch a lot, but it's always nice to have. The Surface Pen is supported, but won't be particularly comfortable to use.

One thing that we don't often see even on premium laptops is an ambient light sensor, which means that brightness adjusts itself automatically. Above the screen is also a 720p webcam and the sensors needed to support Windows Hello face recognition. Stereo speakers are embedded beneath the keyboard. Microsoft isn't publishing an exact battery capacity, but iFixit has discovered that it's a 45.2Whr unit. It's rated for 14.5 hours of video playback which is impressive on paper, but we'll see shortly how well it really performs.

Our review unit was running Windows 10 Pro. The Surface Laptop was initially meant to ship running Windows 10 S, a reduced-functionality version of Windows. Somewhat like Windows RT, Windows 10 S made Edge and Bing the default Web browser and search engine respectively, without any ability to change them. Users could also only install apps from the Windows Store rather than just downloading anything they like. This was meant to usher users into an iOS-like walled garden, but due to massive backlash, this edition of Windows has been discontinued. Instead, the Surface Laptop ships with Windows 10 in "S Mode", which behaves the same. This mode can be disabled at no cost - as long as you find an option that's buried within the Microsoft Store app. With no clear direction, this might confuse a lot of buyers who just want to download Google Chrome or any other common software.

from Blogger https://ift.tt/2vvzyoq via My Channel on YouTube

[dragonscanbeplantstoo]

Oil & Sky: echoes from the trash

After The Rain

Corin taps his fingers in four-four time against the plastic frame of the hospital bed. It is a flat, ugly sound. The wall in front of him is equally ugly; pastel yellow, like all the others, in effort to give this place cheer. Hard to do when the yard is fully enclosed in chicken wire, and everything he owns is locked up in the cabinets across the room.

He sighs and taps in three-four time. The dullness of the sound clings to his ears like stray hairs, but there is no other noise to be had. They had taken the 24/7 watch off him two days ago. His basic clothes were given back. His headphones were not. Without another set of breaths in the room, he desperately needs a sound to occupy his mind, something to keep his skin steady on his bones.  

Corin stands and circles the room again. He looks out the barred window again, beats his fingertips against the cabinet tops some more, rolls a crayon under his palm again. He goes to the bookshelf and touches each of the peeling paperbacks. They must coordinate the books in the room to the patient. He doubts any of the others have a biography of Luciano Pavarotti, or three different books on musical theory. He hasn’t even opened them. Each of the regular books, he has torn through twice.

“Corin?” His nurse knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he says. It’s a weird process of courtesy; if he says no, she’ll just call in larger people.

She pokes her head through and smiles at him. He glares back.  

“Do you want to go down to the chapel dear?”

No. No he does not. The corners of her mouth begin to turn down. She has asked him diligently today, full of hope that after weeks in this dungeon, boredom would finally win. He would accept the psychiatrist’s terms, and make his exit far less dramatic than his arrival.

His parents, really, are to blame for his extended stay here. The psychiatrist had asked what their stubborn son loved to do, and they had given the only answer. Sing. He loves to sing. And when asked what he cared about most: his voice.

Clearly, that care had done so much good. Corin wraps his hands around the warm lump of his Adam’s apple, and tries to keep from shaking. The bandages on his wrists scrape together.  

“Corin?” The nurse again.

Her face looks like the lid of a raw pie to him now. Just pale. Just smooth. Just round.

What he wants, is to go home. Unpack his instrument and place it in a hard-shell case lined with blue velvet. Close it, lock it, put it far away so he can’t hurt it again. He swallows. The swelling is gone. But when he swallows, he can feel where it had been.  

“I’ll…” he takes a deep breath, “I’ll try.”

The nurse’s cheeks puff and color, the pie crust doused with warmth.  

“Oh, how wonderful!” She claps her hands. “I’ll go find someone to walk you down.”

Coring guides a smile over his face in response. Her eyes scrunch, and she scurries back out the door, leaving it ajar. He pokes his head into the hall, watching her weave through the gridlock of nurses and patients. The woman she finds looks at her, takes one look at him, and begins shaking her head. She shakes, and snarls her brow, and shakes her head again. It’s an interaction that says she knows exactly which patient he is, and exactly how long her shift has been. Or, it could be a race thing. He isn’t sure how far they are from home, but if they are even a couple of towns over, it could definitely be a race thing.  

When they come back, it is with a strong scent of lavender perfume that reminds Corin of Avignon. The nurse smiles at him, but it is a tight smile. It is a smile that has run out of sympathy, that will not react well to trouble.  

Corin does not smile back. He stares. No one has had to hold him down since he finished the worst of the heroin withdrawals. But no one has tried to make him play a piano since then, either.  

The tired nurse, introduced as Alissa, walks beside Corin with a clomping gait. She presses for the lift a bunch of times, the futile way people do when they know it won’t help, but do it just to feel better about wasting time.  

“So, are you a nurse, or an assistant?”

“Assistant.”

“How long?”

“Eight years.”

Corin raises his brows. That seems plenty long enough to be bitter. He steps into the elevator first. Inside, she presses the L, and his stomach starts to slither up his body. The elevator jerks, and that stomach shoots up to brush the back of his throat. He swallows, pinching at that point of swelling again. He does not want to go do this.  

When the elevator door opens, Alissa leads the way out. The lobby smells like hand sanitizer, an orderly scent to go with the orderly sound that fills the lobby. Feet shuffling in the line, rhythmic clacking on the keyboard, and the long, flat note of the printer. In an alcove of silence on the far wall, double gray doors are thrown open under a sign that reads: CHAPEL.  

Corin stands in front of the sign and stares at it. His eyes slip down to the cream-colored carpets and walls. It smells like incense. He cannot see the piano from here. Alissa is close behind him and the printer makes another long scree.  

He sucks the spicy dry air into his mouth and walks inside. All of the sun outside comes through the windows in wide, warm bars that point right to the upright piano in the far wall. Corin walks the opposite direction. Alissa watches him wander for a few seconds, until it is clear he is not panicking. Then she plops into a chair and flips disinterestedly through a Bible.  

Corin continues to explore the room. He looks out the window, reads a pamphlet about Catholic mass on Sunday, and touches each of the tissue boxes scattered around the chairs. The music stand on the piano sits like eyes, staring at his shoulder blade. When he was little, and upset, he would go sit under the piano, protected between the legs under that huge white grin. Now, the grin is wide and sharp. He looks between the palm tree outside and the dusty piano. The dust in here is terrible for his throat.  

He minces up to the instrument and touches the keys. They are warm from the sun, like they are happy to see him. It would be easier if they were cold, as upset with him as he is with them. He tries to play a C scale, but his hands are shaking too hard.  

Corin grumbles and circles away, shaking out his hands. He comes back, picks it out again. His diaphragm tenses to respond. The psychiatrist had said one song. A scale isn’t a song. Corin takes off his shoes while he thinks of a song. Something boilerplate that neither he nor his cords must think about. He starts a familiar string of notes. Each one makes his chest a little tighter, makes the nerve endings in his brain fire faster. Lyrics croak in his mouth.

Corin stops to scrub his hands through his hair. A deep breath, like the therapists have been teaching him. It’s only one song. Another breath, and he starts again.

J'aime tes yeux  

J'aime ton front  

Better. His voice teachers would be nodding at him. He keeps going, moving carefully over the keys. He measures his breath for the bigger interval in the next measure. It’s not a big change, but if he messes it up, he won’t be able to start again.

Où mes bises s'épuiseront

He snorts between versus. It seems silly, playing a love song for a piano. But it makes sense, for him, in this moment. He feels like he is making amends, singing to this thing he had abandoned, when it has always been there for him. It kept him alive for a year. The next song, the next recital, the next show. They kept him going, until the one night they didn’t.

His slide between registers is slow and sad. The voice had failed him. Just once, but once had been more than enough. He blamed it, hated it, or, he thought he had. But his mother had been right. He loves the satisfaction of pushing on the keys. He loves the pretty sounds his throat makes.

His favorite thing about this song is the flourish just before the end, the sudden burst of sustained notes. He fills up his lungs and lets it fly. He doesn’t feel the fear anymore, the resistance in the pedals, or the nurse staring at him. He had missed singing his heart out, wishes he had stopped being afraid a lot sooner.

Où mes bises s'épuiseront.

Corin finishes the song with a last press of his ring finger. The final note settles around his ears, close and warm like silky headphones.  

“Thank you,” he tells the piano, “I really needed to do that.  

He stands and puts his shoes back on—he doesn’t remember when he had started playing barefoot. His father tells him that one day, while practicing a tricky bridge, he had thrown them across the room, and never put them back on. It must have been when he was little. He had been an emotional child; lord forbid if he was slightly underfed or insulted. He has stopped asking himself why his parents hadn’t taken him to a doctor then, it only makes him blame them for everything. For his moods and his wrists and the fat new bottle of pills he’ll be taking home with him.

He shakes his head and turns back to Alissa. She is string at him with red on the edges of her eyes, Bible forgotten in her lap.

He frowns, “are you alright?”

She stutters and rubs her eyes, “uh, yeah. You’re ready to go?”

Go. Corin looks at the doorway and lets a real smile tear its way across his face. He leads Alissa out the door. People in the lobby are watching them come out. Corin raises a brow.

“They look like they’re at the zoo?”  

Alissa shakes her head, “they were probably listening. You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” the standard response rolls out of him, “I’ve just been doing it a long time.”

Alissa smiles, “I guess you get that a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to know what to say,” Corin steps into the elevator with her, “because, yes, I know my voice is good, but saying that just makes me look like an ass, you know?”

Alissa laughs and presses their floor.

When they get upstairs, Corin’s dressings are changed, his clothes are returned to him, and his father arrives to help his mother sort through a huge pile of paperwork. The doctor explains Corin’s meds for the fifth or sixth time. Atypical antipsychotics to take once a day with a full glass of water, and food if he feels nauseated. He is to change his dressings every time he showers, and report back next week to have the scars checked.  

Corin is putting his favorite gray scarf back on, looping it twice to insulate his voice box, when the doctor says he can’t go back to school for another month.

“What?” He screeches out a solid F sharp.

The doctor and nurses put their hands to their ears. His parents are well used to it.

“You need time to recover and adjust to being out of the hospital.”

“I’m already six weeks behind, I’ll never catch up in time for finals if I wait longer!” Corin hollers, “I’ll go back to school whenever I feel like it!”

“Son, you’ll give yourself nodes screaming like that,” his father glances up.

It is the magic warning. Corin shuts up.

The doctor finishes rubbing his ears, “Corin, I understand how important your studying is to you—”

“I already missed the Royal Vienna Opera House coming to headhunt me for this.”

“And despite that incredible opportunity, you tried to kill yourself,” the psychiatrist says. He leans deeper into the space between them. “Corin, what are you being treated for?

Corin rolls his eyes. The psychiatrist tsks his tongue.

“I am being treated for bipolar disorder and heroin addiction.” Big words, the psychiatrist calls them. Words that take time to chew on, to integrate into the body.

“Dealing with that while going to an intensive school is not possible.” He says. “If you can stay on your treatment plan for a month, you can go back to school. I’m sure someone as talented as you will have no trouble catching up.”

“Fine,” Corin folds his arms. He is going back to school on Monday.  

The discharge meeting ends with a few pointers and contact numbers for his parents. Corin nearly runs out the lobby doors. Heat and real smells crash into his face. Sugar-syrup scented flowers in the driveway, soured by car exhaust, and salt, from the Mediterranean not far away. Like table salt and taste, the presence of it on the air sharpens everything that hits the nose.  

In the car, his mother toys with the radio until she finds a nice compromise for everyone. Corin hums along to a good 80s song and watches the hospital melt away. It doesn’t feel the way he expected. He expected everything—the bandages, the treatment plan, the memories—to disappear with the building. Like it’s over now, and he can forget about it. No.  

He’ll be back there. He doesn’t know why yet. Maybe he’ll relapse, cash in on that chance of overdose, and roll in with blue lips and no air, despite his huge lungs. Maybe he’ll wake up one day, and decide he needs to die. Either way, there will always be the rain, blood on the cobblestones, and the girl.

The girl. Corin leans over the center console.

“Maman? Do you know anything about the girl who,” he doesn’t like the words, “found me?”

His mother turns around in her seat, “oh, I’m surprised you remember her.”

“I mean, barely. I remember she was a girl with black hair.”

“She was,” His mother puts on a smile, “I talked to her about a week after you were admitted. Her name is Maeva. She goes to your school, actually.”

“Maeva…” he frowns over the name; it’s familiar, but it’s also a reasonably common name. “I can’t place it.”

“She’s an artist, you probably wouldn’t have met her.”

“Yeah. Hm.”

He looks out the window as they head back toward home. They are in a lot of green right now, but he can just see the coastline glittering in the distance. His fingers drum out the beat of whatever song is playing. He tries to think about something else. He can’t.  

“So what’s she like?” He leans to see his mother again.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, what did you talk about? Was she nice to you?”

“Oh, I wanted to thank her, of course. Ask her a few things about what happened,” his mother’s eyes dim. “It was nice of her to indulge me. You seem very interested.”

He frowns, “you think? I’m just curious, I guess.”

She puts a hand on his cheek, “she did save your life, its natural.”

He smiles tightly at her until she turns back around, and then shakes his head. He doesn’t like those words either. Saved your life. They sound like nothing. They taste like nothing. They are like an empty staff, a blank canvas, waiting for a feeling and a sound and a taste to be tacked on. He knows what it should be, but not what it is, and he’d rather not think about it.  

Corin still isn’t sure that being saved was a good thing.

______

Oil & Sky Masterpost

[hidding-in-shadows]

Resbang 2019: hot for the teacher (chapter two)

“I am not ready,” Maka groans, slumping in her chair as Blake gives her the look from where he stands in her classroom. 

She finished setting it up two days ago. Her cork boards are draped in yellow butcher paper and bordered with different rainbow patterns. There’s various streamers and decorations across the top of her whiteboard, and a magnetic holder with rainbow expo markers waiting to be used. The student’s desks are arranged into groups of four with one group of five, all of them at a slant towards the whiteboard. Her whole room is on a slant in the same direction, but it still felt spacious. 

She laid down some rainbow carpets in the library and a few yellow and orange pillows. There’s lap desks and yoga ball seats stacked in the back corner for students to use when needed, and she even had the standards for the first unit in all content areas written on the board.

“You’re ready,” Blake walks to her desk and sits on one of the stools she spray painted to match her theme, “what’s psyching you out?”

“I’m gonna fuck it up,” she groans again, “I just got the roster and I don’t know who to place where. I don’t know their levels, I don’t have data folders, I don’t know what to do.”

“Maks,” she peeks from under her bangs. Blake’s arms are folded and he had the look on his face again that basically says are you serious, “you’re a first year teacher. Everyone knows you’re just now getting ready and you don’t know everything and that is fine. That’s why you have Medusa,” Maka snorts at the mention of her teammate, “and you have a whole staff ready to help you.”

“But I don’t want to have to ask, I feel like I should already know what to do! I went through four years of college for it!”

“If you were supposed to know everything about your job, you wouldn’t be a teacher.” 

She nods to his words and looks at the roster on her desk. Seventeen names, seventeen little minds in the palm of her hands. Seventeen futures she needs to teach and guide. Seventeen lives she is going to influence for forever.

“Don’t zone off,” Blake snaps his fingers in front of her, “I see it on your face. You’re going to be fine. Remember, I’m here if you need anything. And the whole staff.”

He leaves then, leaving Maka sitting in silence in her room. She takes one last look at the roster, takes a deep breath and goes to work.

She is sitting on the floor, feeding sheets of lamination filled with name tags, calendar numbers, and probing questions, when her door opens. She doesn’t even turn around, figuring it’s Blake, and continued doing her work. But the throat clear behind her is unusual and she turns around to see someone who is definitely not Blake.

He’s tall, taller than Blake. A t-shirt marked with an inspiring quote is taunt across his chest. His hair is bleach white, eyes blood red, and face grimacing from the smell of lamination. His eyes wander over the room before falling back onto her and his lips twitch into a smile, though it looked painful.

“Maka Albarn?” his voice is gravelly as he adjusted the one-strap bag across his chest.

“In the flesh,” she pulls the laminated sheet from the machine and stands up, knees popping from sitting for so long. “Are you the tech guy? My smartboard hasn’t been working properly and I’m not sure how to set it up to my laptop.”

“No, I’m not,” he walks into the room, the door closing behind him, “but I can help you with that. The name is Soul Evans.”

“Evans? Are you the music teacher?”

“No, that would be my brother,” he scratches the back his head and his eyes flick around the room again, “it’s pretty bright in here. Kinda hurts the eyes.”

“Well, yellow is a positive color,” Maka crosses her arms, “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but who are you exactly?”

“They didn’t tell you?” he cocks a snowy brow. Maka shakes her head and shifts her weight. “Figures. This district sucks. I’m your new co.”

“Co?”

“Co-Teacher. They increased the class size and hired me to teach with you. We have twenty-six little demons to teach together.” He swings his bag around himself as the floor falls from under Maka’s feet. He digs inside his bag before pulling out of a manila folder and hands it to her. Inside is a class roster with both of their names at the top and the names of twenty-six students. Some of them were from her original roster and the others were names she didn’t recognize. If felt like the world had froze.

“Twenty-six?” Her voice hitches and she feels her heart pick up. Breathe, her mind tells her, but words are jumping around in her head and she can’t catch them.

“You had no idea,” Soul sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “okay, let’s go see the Doc and talk this out. We have time still to sort out some room stuff, discuss the lessons for the first week, maybe we can meet-up --,”

“I can’t teach twenty-six kids,” she clutches the papers, knuckles white, “I could barely wrap my head around seventeen kids. But twenty-six? That’s crazy! And now you need a-a desk?”

“Are you okay?” He knitts his eyebrows together, “I mean, we just have to do a couple trainings together to get the hang of what to do and how our styles work. I’ve co-taught in the past, so it won’t be too bad. Haven’t you worked with, like, assistants?”

“This is my first year,” she all but whimpers, looking at him. Then the tears start and she lets out a groan, spinning around and walking to her desk. She slumps behind it and looks at the list in her hands again, tears rolling down her cheeks. She lets out a deep, shaking breath and leans forward, fingers digging into the tightness at the top of her ponytail. 

“Okay, so,” Soul’s voice is moving closer to her, more calming than his previous tone, “we’ll go to the Doc, see where the message got missed. Then, we’ll figure out where to go from there, right?”

“It doesn’t matter,” her voice is breaking, “it’s already done. It’s not like-like going back through files will prepare us for what is to come. I mean, look, I am already a mess and kids haven’t even shown up yet!”

“Every teacher has a messy spot.”

“You should check out our teammate,” Maka snorts and sits back up taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to have an … outburst like that. Just, just give me a second.”

“Okay.”

She hears the sound of chair feet moving across the carpet and feels his presence across from her. She wonders if he thinks she is a freak, some kind of crazy lady who shouldn’ be teaching. But, when she opens her eyes, now free of tears, he is simply sitting with his cheek in palm and eyes half-lidded as if there was no care in the world; as if he didn’t just see his now co-teacher ball her eyes out and whine for a solid minute. 

His eyes catch hers and he smirks a little. “You okay now?”

“‘M okay,” Maka sighs, resisting the urge to allow more tears to fall, “okay, okay. Just ... I’m gonna run to the bathroom and try not look like I just bawled my eyes out for a whole minute.”

“I’ll meet you in the Doc’s office,” Soul makes the way towards her -- their classroom door. “And Maka? Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. We can talk about the details and whatnot later. We’re partners this year so, let’s keep it cool, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, eyes beginning to feel less puffy, “see you in Dr. Mortimor’s office.”

--

“The order came through about three days ago,” Dr. Mortimor is sitting in his office chair, looking at his dual screen computer, and twisting an end of his moustache between his fingers. “I requested another unit to be added because of enrollment, but the district decided to do a co-teaching classroom instead. So, I conducted some interviews and then told them my picks. They had the ultimate decision and then sent a message to our secretary. She then put the letter in Ms. Gorgon’s box to deliver to you, Ms. Albarn, because your mailbox isn’t set up yet.”

“What?” Maka feels her face go white, “But I never got that letter.”

“I’ll talk to Ms. Gorgon,” Dr. Mortimor turns in his chair and faces the two. “But for now, take the rest of the day as a chance to get to know each other and add some of Mr. Evans touch to the classroom! I am sure there only needs to be a few adjustments to make Mr. Evans comfortable. Isn’t that right?”

Soul puckers his lips slightly at Dr. Mortimor’s words but nods nonetheless. Dr. Moritmor smiles at both of them and then stands up, revealing that his bottom half is a pair of cargo shorts while his upper half dons a light blue button down and matching tie combo. His smile seems to get larger, upper lip twitching with his moustache. He excuses himself to go to a meeting and then disappears through his office door.

“So, what do you do in your free-time?” Soul smirks and Maka glares at him, crossing her arms.

“You can’t just joke at a time like this! And I can’t believe they just dumped you here, without telling me.” The two start making their way back to her -- their classroom.

“I guess they tried to,” Soul buries his hands into his pockets, “I mean, who is Ms. Gorgon that was mentioned?”

“That one teammate I mentioned even earlier. She’s, ah, kinda reserved. But she’s the team-leader because there’s only two classrooms. She’s also my mentor. She’s mostly just given me some extra books from her library to add to mine. That’s really it.”

“She’s supposed to give you resources and information from the different meetings she attends,” Soul opens the door for Maka to her -- their classroom, and she mutters a thanks, “let’s see if she put the letter on your desk. Or maybe just forgot?”

“You obviously haven’t even been in the same room as her,” Maka snorts, rubbing her hands over her face, “she drains the life out of any environment. She told me I was gonna screw up the kids.”

“That’s not a very helpful mentor,” Soul looks around the room, “so maybe we should move on from the letter. I’m here, I’m getting paid. You’re here, you’re getting paid. And, we can’t change what the district wants. So, let’s talk room arrangements. Now that there’s more kids, we need to straighten this place out.”

“And we need more desks.” Maka adds.

“And a group table for me.”

“And more materials.”

“Laptops.”

“Library books.”

The two look at each other and Maka feels a twinge of tension hit her. Her face flushes, with frustration or embarrassment, she isn’t sure. And, she isn’t sure if she wants to think too hard about which one it may be. 

She sighs and rolls her shoulders before tightening her ponytail. The two scanned the room and almost naturally they both head for the desks and start rearranging them. She had originally made the desks into groups, but because of the increase of students, they adjust the desks into more of a row style, putting three desks in each row and then making two columns with a big aisle down the middle. Soul excuses himself for a moment after they arrange the desks and returned with the custodian and ten more desks. 

They move the desks, change a group table to Soul’s desk, and set up the laptops into an accessible cabinet. While Soul ensures the laptops chargers are working, Maka moves bookshelves and creates a larger, wider classroom library. Slowly but surely, the room becomes a space that can comfortably hold twenty-six kids and two adults. 

A list had been made of the additional things they needed, materials from the store for students and supplies the school needed to provide. They sit at Maka’s desk, hunched over and mumbling about who will take what responsibility when Blake shows up with a bag of take-out.

“You must be Wes’s brother,” Blake settles at Maka’s desk and starts digging for food in the bag. 

“The one and only,” Soul takes a container of lo mein from the man with a nod, “it’s going to be a little weird working with him after all this time, but I guess it’s cool.”

“Did you guys use to work together before?” Maka asks, twisting a forkful from her own container of lo mein. The two of them had been so focused on fixing the room up they didn’t have time to actually get to know each other.

“No, when he got his degree he moved here. I stayed up north for a little longer and moved down here a few years ago. I was a reading coach at Brook Elementary but then Wes told me about your school, I contacted Doc about any positions and interviewed for here. District had the ultimate say though, as we found out.”

“So you’re a reading coach?”

“I have a Kindergarten through 5th Grade Bachelor’s Degree with Reading and ESE Endorsements. So when I got hired on at Brook, they used me for Reading.”

“I guess it must have been nice to focus on one thing,” Maka looks at her food, pushing it around, “thinking about planning for all four subjects gives me a little anxiety.”

“Aren’t you team planning?” Blake raises a brow, “Sid and I split the semester. I get K-2 planning and he does 3-5 and then we swap. Some classroom teachers will split the subjects.”

“Ah, no, I haven’t heard anything from Gorgon. She’s barely spoken to me.”

“You should talk to the Doc about that,” Soul pushes the remainder of his dinner forward, “A mentor is supposed to actually help you, you know. I’m gonna leave now, though. I’ll get here early to get some of the materials from our list. You guys have a good night.”

“You too,” Blake cracks a big smile, “look forward to working with you!”

“I’ll swing by the store tomorrow morning to get more notebooks and folders,” Maka smiles gently toward Soul who returns the gesture, “get enough sleep, long day tomorrow.”

Soul nods and leaves, closing the door gently behind him. Maka breaks her gaze from where Soul left and looks to Blake who was leaning back and smirking dangerously. She rolls her eyes and feels her cheeks flush before mumbling at him to shut up and help her clean up their dinner.