#i am getting so confused because when i try to play g major scale the f sounds higher?

[cookiescr]

for people who are good with music are the f's for g major scale and c major scale different or am i just hearing it wrong??

[teacup-baphomet]

G/t Drabble (Crash landed on a hostile planet trope but NOT via the a tiny vulnerable human in a planet of mean powerful alien bigs route)

tw: a bit of censored cursing. Uh. I’m not sure what else. Maybe broaching of sensitive tops such as sexuality and religion. But not really. Mostly it’s just rlly dumb word play/lame humor and a confused alien being confused (and kinda freaked/troubled due to the confusion? you’ll see if you read it i guess). there is some sad lorg boi times. idk. no romantic relationships. just a shaky friendship is forming between a crash-landed big-arse alien (a human! *gasp*  i woulda never guessed something as vile as that o: ) and one of the much smaller, very much not human locals. most want to kill the poor dude who got stuck on this planet of hostile lil guys who think he’s a monster and immediately decide they much off him asap. so like having this one ally is kinda important to him. But it’s hard. because. lots reasons rlly. culture differences. the language tech can only do so much. the size diff creates definite issues because trust is hard in general. and trusting a big being that could easily cause havoc on your planet mostly just cuz he /seems/ nice is not a very good foundation... there is much to learn between the two before they can be truly good frens. so uh good luck to them lol *raises glass* I mean. I don’t think I’ll ever write these two again. but I’m sure they’ll end up good friends. probably.

Anyway without further adieu, here have a disappointment (read: attempt to be creative but i’m kinda lazy tbh and still kinda bitter I can’t draw for more than like 10 minutes before I start spacing out :/ )

"We are called humans or the scientific name is homo sapiens" spoke the large alien, Lyle.

"Homo sapiens? That is rather long, is it not? Why is a "scientific name" even a thing? Why would that be necessary? Scientific name versus what kinda name? Emotional name? Why are these science names two words? Seems annoying. What is wrong with just calling yourselves simply homos? Or something else just as nice and concise. Straight to the point if you will. Probably. I... Uh.. I obviously don't know what exactly is the purpose of a scientific name as i already implied... Sooo..." The much shorter – and much scalier- native being (called Torrynts) awkwardly looked off the side to stare at the plain, blank, siding of their dilapidated, isolated house as if it were the most interesting thing in the entire vicinity. Which it wasn’t of course. There was a f***ing alien 15 times their size only a few them-sized lengths way…

 Lyle gave his new comrade – and only friend on this gawdforsaken planet that mostly wants him dead- th pondering, and possibly ironically, rather colourfully scaled Torrynt by the name of Kyvlar a bemused look, bordering on coy.

"Huh. 'Straight' to the point you say?" He paused with a small snort. "Well, my not-so-statuesque friend, do I got news for you~"

Kyvlar suddenly blanched, giving a Lyle a look that was like a knife to the heart while blurting out. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold up! We? There are more than one of you? Here? On this planet? Were you just a distraction the whole time. Oh... Oh no.... Have we really been victim a secret homo invasion this whole time! I-"

 Their panicked monologue was interrupted by a most horrendous noise. Like a slowly dying tornado with the hiccups or something.

"STOP. Stop I-I can't. I can't. This is too much much!" Spoke Lyle with his hand covering the bottom half of his  and his eyes scrunched shut.

 'Welp,' thought the Torrynt, 'This is the end. This is when I die. I should have known better than to immediately put my trust in such an enormous obviously dangerous specimen. Ho-'

 Kyvlar’s dramatic internal speech was interrupted when the alien surprised them by uncovering the his face, revealing a huge grin. ‘They weren't upset? Huh?’ The Torrynt blinked owlishly at the human in confusion.

 "Sh*t, bite-size (Kyvlar noticeably paled at the impromptu nickname not 100% the foreign joking tone, well it would have been noticeable to someone their size at least), I know you don't mean to, context-wise, but you reminded me of my great aunt Karen when my Uncle Todd and Uncle Copper decide to have their friends over along with relatives for a gatherin'."

Plastering on a faux distraught look and blatantly mocking tone, he  continue with exaggerated hand gestures. "Oh no, it's the...the...," he paused with snort, "... the homo invasion... No, no, no... Not here... not in this... this good, Christian neighborhood. Aren't just two of them enough? Oh woe is me!" The alien dropped the mocking tone and smirked towards the smaller being. "Heh. Good ol' great aunt Karen could never remember Uncle Todd was Jewish and so was the majority of that neighborhood.... It’s where my Uncle Todd was raised actually…"

 The said smaller being just stared blankly at the homo-no-human they supposed as just “homo” meant something else, they weren’t sure what else, beyond just something else.

 "Uhhm. Wh-what? U-Uhm, so what exactly is “homo” then? And what’s Christian? And Jewish too. What’s that? Are... Are those other types of -uh- intelligent, sentient creatures on your planet? Y-you know, b-beside hom-er-h-humans? Or are these subtypes of humans? What kinda are you? What is a great aunt? or Uncle? Does the great indicate a larger size? Oh gawd, a-aren't you humans b-big enough regularly? Oh... W-wait. O-or are you a great- uhm- great aunt, was it? E-er, g-great something? Ohhh. Zyntall (Torrynt swear). I'm sooo confused r-right now... " The timid tiny being, sighed in frustration before their eyes snapped open wide in a panic, and they did an immediate one-eighty with their behavior, and it was off all their previously trust, as wavering as it was, vanished in an instant, squeaking out a quick "sorry. oh, Z-zyntall... I'm so-so-sooo sorry. I-I hope I d-didn't offend y-you or anyth-thing... p-please, oh please, don't hurt me" while gazing everywhere except towards the much larger alien, hoping desperately the 'bite-size' nickname was just a bad joke...

 Clearly they not only didn't get what so hilarious about the whole thing but also thought he was a monster prone to violence – still. Lyle sighed, all the mirth that was previously in his expression draining out of him leaving him with an uncomfortable grimace on their face. How disappointing... They really wish there was another human here to share in the jesting. But alas, that was not meant to be. At least as far as they knew there was no "homo invasion" in the making. Lyle wasn’t naïve. He knew humans were easy to slip into a gray moral state, at best. The role of villains at worst. And many of his kind would likely take advantage of a planet full of tiny, vulnerable people. Lyle couldn’t help but inwardly cringe at the thought, getting nervous about something that wasn’t an issue. At least now. Currently, human-wise, it was just him on this distant planet. And as far as he knew, no one - well, no other human at least- had any clue where they were. It probably just seemed he simply disappeared. Never to be seen again most likely. Trapped on this random alien planet in scenario that is akin to some sort of a personal hell of sorts.

'Wow. Hello, major depressive episode that’s making me overly dramatic. I haven't seen you since I was - what - eighteen?' thought Lyle regretfully. Calling this planet a personal hell was probably a bit over the top. But still, he couldn’t even seem to keep the trust of his single native ally. It only adds to his feelings of lonely isolation. And he feared his lonely angst will only get worse and worse. But only time will tell.

Giving a small sigh, he mentally prepped himself to try and get back his small friend’s trust. At least he was able to laugh for a wee bit earlier. It had been so long since he had done such. It was nice. Hopefully next time it will not lead to a backtracking in his attempted friendly ships with an open local, or even worse, a hostile local. The little laser guns that native being had stung like a b*tch. It reminded him when he got bit a couple times by some fire ants during a vacation as a child.

-----------

So yeah these were rando improvised characters made on the spot.

But Lyle is a guy (he/him. He’d be chill with they/them too)

And Kyvlar is… a Torrynt. So like they/them I guess. Torrynts don’t have genders. Like at all. I guess they hermaphroditic (intersex if talking by human terms but not really as they are capable of reproduction and they aren’t human so… I dunno… Not even sure if hermaphrodite is a useful term. As idk if hermaphroditic animals, in nature, are capable of reproduction… I don’t think so? But I’m not sure tbh…). There is no variants like there are with human “sex”. And male/female concepts are 200+% foreign to these wee reptile-like aliens (albeit warm-blooded minded, so perhaps more draconian than reptilian idk. Also aliens being described as reptilian gives me hives due to a conspiracy theory that is like super bigoted actually n’ stuff. Very yikes. Don’t want to talk it about it rlly…). Their reaction would def be “wtf. That’s the weirdest sh*t ever” to such a thought as male n female binary dynamics & whatnot. No exceptions. They’d be like why a lot of you guys limiting yourself because of whether or not you are a potential offspring vessel or not. I don’t understand.

So Yeah. Uh. Anyways.

Their conversation about this prolly (or close to this):

Lyle: Hi. I’m Lyle. Just some random dude form Earth I guess.

Kyvlar: a random dude what?

Lyle: uh. I’m a dude. I guess I meant that I’m a boy though dudes don’t really have to be boys I think. But not to derail too much… Yeah. I’m a man/guy/boy/brosef, whatever you wanna call the male gender. Please not by brosef actually, heh. Anyway. Yep. A boy. That is what I am. Uh. How about you. I can just tell… you ….you have uhm two legs. Oh damn. Wait. That sounded so stupid. I wouldn’t assume your gender or anything. I just… You don’t look exactly human so..uh. UGH. Nevermind. I don’t even know where I was going with that... Heh. ANYWAY, so yeah what’s your gender is what I’m trying to say. Sorry I’m awkward as f***. I’m not used to socializing much. Been doing deep space sh** on my own for a few years now and.. uh.. yeahhhh….

Kyvlar: *stares blankly*

Lyle: Uh. Yeah. So. A Gender? Do you, uhm, have one? Or…????

Kyvlar: Uh. I think so? I mean I’m mostly a day-by-day I’ll figure it out then type but I, I really want be able to fix my home up. I want to learn to cook. Kinda suck at it now. Uhm. I guess… Uh. I should probably help you get on good terms with my people so they stop trying to kill you. You seem nice n’ stuff… so yeah. There’s that. I could use a little more purpose in my life. Not to-

Lyle: wait. Huh? What are you talking about? Are you talking about an agenda?

Kyvlar: Yes????

Lyle: *snorts* I didn’t say an agenda. I said a gender. As in A. Gen. Durr. Like are male or female or maybe something off the typical binary track??

Kyvlar: Uh. Er. Huh??? I, I’m so confused right now…

Lyle: Hooo boy. I’m so not prepared for this discussion at all.

-----------

One of these days I’m gonna have a character that’s silver-tongue and smooth af and not some bumbling awkward doofus (*cough* like I am *cough*).

[quickspinner]

Finding Harmony - Ch 1 The Key of M

This story is complete on AO3

Season 3 was still coming out when I wrote this one, but it’s still probably my favorite of my works so far, so I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my ongoing effort to get my AO3 works posted to tumblr; you can filter the tag ‘backlog’ if you’d rather not see them.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Summary: Before any note can harmonize with another, it has to be on pitch. When Luka agrees to work with Marinette on a design project, he's happy to see that she's started making some changes for her own happiness. “It’s like you’re tuning your strings right now. You started out a little flat, and then you tuned too sharp. So now you're working back towards your true pitch." As she gets closer to striking her true note, he can't help but think how beautiful they sound together. He wishes she could hear it too.

“Marinette wants your body.”

Luka nearly swallowed the guitar pick he had clamped between his lips. He made a muffled sound and dropped the sheet music he’d been trying to arrange so he could whip the pick out of his mouth to demand, “What did you say?” He moved his guitar off his lap and turned to hang his legs off the edge of the bed so he could face his sister as she crossed from the door towards her end of the cabin.

“Finally,” Juleka smirked. “I’ve called your name three times. Marinette’s been trying to call you for like an hour.” 

“What?” Luka frowned and shuffled around on his bed, finally finding his phone half-buried under his pillow. Sure enough, he had a bunch of missed notifications. “Oops,” he muttered.

“I just got back from her place,” Juleka told him, sitting sideways in her vanity chair to face him. “She’s got an idea that she’s all fired up on and she’s wondering if you’d be willing to model with me for it.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Jul,” he said almost automatically.

Juleka smirked. “I know you’d do anything for Marinette.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Yeah, that too.”

“Sap.” 

“Like you can talk. I’m gonna go call her back now.” He stood up and walked out to the deck.

Marinette picked up on the first ring with a delighted “Luka!” that made his heart skip a bit. 

“Hey, Marinette, sorry I missed your messages, I was kinda in the zone and I wasn’t paying attention to my phone. Juleka just told me you were trying to reach me.”

“No problem, I understand, I’ve been there! I’m sorry I interrupted, though, I guess this could have waited, it’s just I was excited and you know I’m a planner and—”

“Breathe, Marinette, it’s fine.” He smiled, leaning on the rail of the boat. “What do you need?”

“Well, you know I felt really bad about that whole Reflekdoll thing a while back—”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but—“ Marinette sighed. “Well, never mind about that. I still feel bad for Juleka and now that I know she wants to model I started thinking about what would look good on her, because you know the suit before was cute all but it didn’t really scream Juleka, and so I started messing around with some designs, more of my edgy stuff, you know, the kind of thing I do for Jagged Stone and Kitty Section, and the more I thought about it the more excited I got and I think I have some really cool concepts—”

“Breathe, Marinette,” he repeated, grinning. 

“Right. Sorry. Anyway um I guess designing for Juleka kind of got me thinking about you, and I have some things in mind that I think would look really good on you and I was wondering if you would mind taking some pictures with Juleka when the pieces are done? What do you think?”

“I think all you had to say was ‘Hey Luka, will you model my designs with Juleka,’ and I’d have been sold,” Luka chuckled. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good but you know I’d do anything to help my two favorite girls. Just tell me when and where and what you need me to do.”

The delighted squeal that answered him left him grinning for an hour.

***

“Mom Luka’s here we’ll be in my room see you later!”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cheng,” Luka said with a chuckle, as he followed Marinette through the bakery at a slightly more civilized pace.

“Good to see you, Luka. There’s a plate of snacks in the fridge if you two get hungry.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

It was a good thing he’d been to Marinette’s place with the rest of the band, because she was so far ahead of him he might as well have been by himself. When he climbed up through the hatch into her bedroom (her room was really pretty cool for not being a boat), Marinette nearly barreled right into him. “Whoa!” he cried, catching her around the waist just in time to keep her from falling over. “Relax, Marinette, I’m not going to turn into a pumpkin. You can slow down a little.” He waited until she was sure she had her balance back, and then let her go.

“Sorry,” Marinette said, bouncing slightly on her toes and then grabbing his hand to drag him to her chaise. “I’m just so excited to show you. I hope you’ll like it.”

Luka took a seat on her chaise as she directed and smiled as he watched her rush around. “It’s great to see you so inspired. Maybe I’m off base, but it just feels like you’ve been missing a little bit of your spark lately.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, and it was like all the frenetic energy drained out of her at once. She came and sat next to him on the chaise, looking almost...mournful. “A lot of things have been happening, and I’m starting to realize that I’ve been...prioritizing the wrong things. Sometimes the wrong people.” She glanced at him and then away, twisting her fingers. “I didn’t like the person I was becoming. Which is complicated, because I didn’t like the person I was before, either. Before I met Alya and A-Adrien and got to be better friends with Nino and Kitty Section.” She flashed him a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t have liked me then either. I was a pushover and a victim and a...a bystander.” Luka moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder in silent encouragement. “Some things happened at the beginning of the school year that really pushed me out of that comfort zone, and I started really trying to be a friend, someone my friends can rely on, and for a while it was great. I still messed up a lot but I started standing up for myself and other people, and I wasn’t such a spectator. But...” Marinette chewed her lip. “I don’t know, I feel like somewhere in the last few months I got confused.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “I need to find a way back to the person I wanted to be. Except I don’t even know who that is, because if I don’t like who I was before and I don’t like who I became, then where am I trying to go?” She moaned faintly and put her face in her hands. “And all you did was compliment me and now I’m just spewing this out all over you and you didn’t ask for any of this, I’m so sorry. I’m probably not even making sense.”

“Marinette, you’re making perfect sense,” Luka said, squeezing her shoulder, and reaching down for the guitar case. “It sounds like you’ve been bottling that up for a while.” She nodded, face still in her hands. “It’s like...you’re tuning your strings right now,” he continued. He set his guitar on his lap, set his fingers and plucked a string. “That’s G, right? You started out a little flat.” He moved his fingers and played a G flat. “So you started tuning towards your true pitch.” He played G again. “But you overshot and you went sharp.” He played the G sharp. “So now you’re working back towards G again.” He plucked the G one more time and grinned. “Or maybe it’s M in your case.”

”There isn’t any M, Luka,” Marinette giggled. 

“I think there is,” Luka smiled, fingers fluttering in a familiar pattern as he played up and down a G major scale. “I think you’ll find it.” He looked up and met her eyes. “And when you do, it’ll be beautiful.” 

Marinette held his gaze for a moment, then blushed and looked at her hands. “Thanks Luka. I know—well, you’re one of the people I haven’t treated so well, so...thanks for understanding.”

“I could tell it wasn’t the true note, the real you. We all make mistakes, Marinette. You’ve always been honest and sincere with me, and I value that more than anything.”

Marinette smiled weakly. “I feel like that should be part of the Couffaine family motto. Liberté, sincerité, originalité.”

Luka laughed out loud. “I like it.” 

Marinette, smiled, and the light came back into her eyes as she jumped up. “Enough navel gazing. How do you feel about snakes?”

Luka’s eyes widened slightly and he felt a flicker of panic. “Uh—”

“Because I have the greatest plan for you,” Marinette said, rushing over to her desk. “Check this out.” She pulled up a board that had been laying flat on her desk and held it vertical so he could see it. Front and center was a large picture of a blue and black striped snake with a red head and tail. It was bold and striking and it looked nothing like Viperion. Luka relaxed a little. He should have known better.

“Snakes are cool,” he grinned. “I like the colors.” 

Marinette squealed and bounced a little. “I know, they’re perfect for you! I mean blue was the easy choice but I was afraid that would be predictable and boring but then I found this picture and—Can you help me hold this? Thanks. So the snake—it’s called a Malasian coral snake by the way—is the inspiration for collection, see? I’m working out an embroidery design, and I’m also incorporating the colors, although not as much on Juleka’s, I want to use mostly black for her with maybe a bright pop of color, maybe the red, see? And if she’s posing with you, maybe she won’t be so nervous. It’ll be a good way to help her get a little more experience so she’ll be more comfortable next time, and if the photos turn out well she’ll have a start to her portfolio.”

“Sounds great. You’re so thoughtful, Marinette. I know Juleka will appreciate it,” he told her admiringly.

“I really haven’t been lately,” Marinette sighed, as he helped her lay the board back down flat. “But I’m trying to be better.”

Luka touched her shoulder. “If you really want to change yourself, I know you can, Marinette. If it’s worth anything, I think you’re pretty great the way you are.”

He jolted when Marinette turned to him and threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight, but he put one arm around her and hugged her back. “Thanks Luka,” she whispered. “You’re the best.”

He patted her back gently, resisting the urge to really hold her. “So, what do I need to do?”

“Measurements!” Marinette snapped back on task. “I need to take some measurements. Especially for the shirts and jacket, I’ve got to make sure there’s room for all—” she gestured vaguely at his shoulders. “That.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “All what?”

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to her desk to dig out a measuring tape. “Take off your jacket, Luka.”

He did as she asked, laying the guitar back in the open case and dropping his denim jacket and hoodie on the end of the chaise. Marinette pursed her lips as she turned back to him, then took his wrist and held up his arm so that his bicep was flexed. “Yep. That’s what I meant.” Luka felt a sudden flush as she ran her hand up his arm and onto his shoulders. “You’ve got a lot more muscle than the guys in my class—except Kim but he’s a special case—and your shoulders are broader.”

“Um...thanks?” Luka cleared his throat.

Marinette jumped back. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just thinking out loud.”

“It’s fine,” he said, though he knew he was blushing, and he couldn’t quite keep from smirking just a little bit. “Go ahead.”

Luka stood patiently while she measured what felt like every inch of him. 

“Sorry,” she said, writing numbers down. “I just don’t want to have to make you come back, so I’m trying to get everything I think I possibly could need. Once I’ve gotten a little further in the designs, I can bring fabric samples over to the Liberty for you guys to look at.”

“I appreciate that, Marinette, but these are your designs, you don’t need our approval.” 

“I know, but I want you guys to be comfortable with the clothes, especially Juleka now that I know she’s so nervous. And the best part of designing is seeing how excited people are to wear the finished product. I really want you guys to be thrilled.”

Luka smiled at her enthusiasm. “I have confidence in you, Marinette.”

She flashed him a soft smile that made his heart flutter. “You always have, Luka. I appreciate it.” She straightened up and put her pencil down. “I think that’s everything I need.” Marinette bit her lip, and looked a bit...shy? That was new. “Um...do you have to go right away? We could hang out for a bit if you’re free...do you play video games?”

“Not really,” he admitted, with a shrug, and then added quickly as her face fell, “I’m always up for trying something new though.”

The way she lit up at that was not good for his heart. “Well, I’ll go easy on you since you’re a beginner.”

Luka chuckled. “Teach me your ways, master.”

Even ‘going easy,’ she destroyed him. His quick fingers and excellent hand-eye coordination were his only chance for redemption. At the same time, he’d never enjoyed losing more. Competitive Marinette was a side she’d never shown him before and Luka was hard pressed to pay attention to the game, distracted as he was by her wide smile and sparkling eyes. After she’d pounded him a few times, she had mercy on him and switched modes so that they battled together against online opponents. He was still pretty useless but she didn’t seem to need him to win anyway, and playing cooperatively gave her more opportunity to coach him. By the time he had to leave, he could at least survive through the fight while Marinette took their opponents apart. That was good enough for him; the game was okay but he mostly just enjoyed watching her have fun. This was clearly one of her passions and he loved watching her be so gung-ho over it.

“You’re amazing,” he sighed finally, putting down the controller. “I think I’d have to practice a long time to get good enough to even come close to beating you.” 

“Oh, I didn’t—you did really well for your first time!” She hastened to reassure him. He laughed at her round eyes and panicked expression.

“Relax, Marinette, I don’t mind. Even losing to you is fun. You’re cute when you win.” He winked at her and she blushed, but recovered quickly.

“You’re right, I am amazing,” Marinette said airily, and then giggled. “At least at video games. My classmate Max and I played in the interschool tournament and we tore the competition apart.” She looked down at the controller and sighed, putting it down on the coffee table. “I actually haven’t taken much time to play lately, I’ve been so busy. Another reason to make some changes.”

Luka put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I don’t know what happened and I wish you weren’t so sad about whatever it was, but it sounds like you’ve got a good handle on what you need to do, so I know you’ll be fine. Thanks for teaching me, Marinette. I had fun.” 

“Me too,” she smiled at him. “Thanks, Luka, your support means a lot to me. And,” she blushed a little, “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“I love spending time with you,” Luka said, letting go of her shoulder and getting to his feet. “I do need to get home now though. I’ll go grab my stuff.” He went up the stairs to her room, giving her time to recover from her spluttering. Luka sensed that she felt lonely and unappreciated lately, and he didn’t want to pass up a chance to let her know how much he appreciated her, or how happy he was to spend time with her.

Luka put his jackets back on, zipped up the open guitar case, and lifted the strap over his head. He stopped by the desk, looking down at the snake image, and smiled to himself before going back down the stairs.

Marinette walked him out through the bakery, where her mother pressed a small box of sweets into his hands. “Be safe getting home, Luka,” Marinette told him at the door.

“See you soon, Marinette.” He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder once more before walking away.

As he walked he thought about what Marinette had said to him. Luka was glad she was taking some time and space to take care of herself, but he couldn’t help wondering what brought on the change. Marinette seemed so down about it...He hoped she felt better about it soon, because the changes she was making seemed good for her. So far, he certainly liked what he was seeing. It was great to see her investing in her art. Just spending time with Marinette was enough for him, but getting to be involved in something she loved so much made it that much better.

Luka sighed, adjusting the guitar case and smiling at himself. He’d long ago accepted that he was hopelessly deep in a hopeless love when it came to Marinette. He knew Juleka thought he was an idiot, but he really just didn’t mind it. 

Loving her made him happy.

[firelord-frowny]

I think I’m gonna Forrealsies write a book or ~academic paper~ about my experience and continuing journey in learning to play the violin. 

My story is one of tremendous potential, bad teaching, frustration, misunderstanding and misdiagnosis, and I see younger players facing issues EXACTLY like mine all. the. time. I see their teachers making the SAME mistakes that mine made with me, and I see the students suffering the same way I suffered, and it makes me so sad and upset. 

The #1 Bad Thing that my old violin teacher from high school did to me was force me to play pieces that were way too hard for me - pieces that I just completely lacked the technique to play. She wanted me to play shit with entire passages of doublestops and octaves, shit with upbow stacatto and ricochet bowing, shit with artificial harmonics all up and through, shit that was lightning fast, all without EVER actually teaching me how to do any of it. 

There was a more advanced student that I taught at my job - she was an 11th grader who wanted to go on to major in music. She was deeeefinitely good enough to get into any not-that-competitive music school, but I wanted her to be able to also stand a chance of getting into Peabody or even just UMD. So I drew up a tentative plan of pieces she could learn that would help her develop the skills that would allow her to be capable of something like that. 

The piece I suggested she learn immediately was ~Czardas~. Czardas is basically a student piece that isn’t tooooo difficult, but introduces a lot of important advanced techniques. The techniques are given in small doses that allow a student to get comfortable with the basics before tackling something more complex. It’s got fast, slurred arpeggios, double stops of 3rds and 6ths, artificial harmonics, passages that are played only on the G string... it’s a GREAT piece to transition from more basic ~student~ repertoire, to more legit professional repertoire. 

So, this student comes back to her lesson the next week and tells me that the orchestra teacher told her that Czardas was “too easy” for her, and to learn the Lalo concerto instead. 

I honestly fucking laughed. I laughed and shook my head and said NO. WAY. 

She had listened to the Lalo concerto, and really liked it and had been looking forward to learning it, so she was disappointed and confused by my reaction and asked why I didn’t think she could do it. I told her: “You can do it. Just not yet. You don’t have the prerequesite skills for it.” To demonstrate, I asked her to play a 3 octave D minor scale in 16th notes at 160bpm, ascending in a slurred upbow and descending in a slurred downbow, followed by major and minor arpeggios in triplets at the same tempo.

She could not do it. Obviously. Because she hasn’t been taught that skill yet. 

So I told her: The Lalo is made up of like 90% fast, slurred D minor scales and arpeggios. If you try to learn this piece now, it is going to take you MANY TIMES LONGER to stumble through it than if you were to learn it after you’ve begun to master scales and arpeggios. You will waste time struggling to learn techniques in the context of a difficult piece when you instead should be learning them from good old fashioned scale exercises, etudes, and technical studies. The ONLY way I am going to bother teaching this to you now is if you, right now, begin an intensive regimen of technical study. 

And since the orchestra teacher fucking INSISTED on the matter, I gave the student a list and step-by-step instructions of how she needs to practice scales in order be capable of learning the piece. 

It was VERY slow going. But it was working. I required that she not even ATTEMPT to play the piece at a tempo she could not play the scales at. So, it was super under tempo, but it was in tune, and accurate. 

There’s a particularly challenging part of the piece where the player has to quickly alternate between a high and low shifts. The low note is a D which is to be played on the G string in 3rd position. But since that’s Not Easy, the student asked me if she could use an open D instead. I told her, “Nope. It’s not meant to be an open D. You’ll just have to practice it. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.” So I spent a few minutes teaching her how to break it down into tiny steps, and how to put those steps back together in her practice. 

The next week, she comes to her lesson like: “[orchestra teacher] told me to use an open D.” 

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

EXCUSE ME?????

WHY THE FUCK. WOULD SHE INSIST THAT YOU PLAY THIS PIECE IS TOO HARD FOR YOU AND ENCOURAGE YOU TO LEARN IT INCORRECTLY WHEN INSTEAD SHE COULD HAVE JUST LET YOU PLAY SOMETHING THAT IS ACTUALLY WITHIN YOUR REACH???

How the FUCK does it make sense to half-learn shit that is too difficult instead of actually-learning shit that is juuuuust difficult enough to require that the student learn new techniques, but still manageable enough that the student can actually play it perfectly??

It does not. make. sense. Yet almost every single teacher I have EVER had seems to think this is okay. 

You know which teachers understand that that isn’t okay? The teachers of Hilary Hahn and Ray Chen and Soo-Been Lee and Julia Fischer and In Mo Yang and Yu-Chein Benny Tseng and every other player in the world who doesn’t fucking suck. 

It’s not rocket science. It’s literally just “if you can’t play it right, then you haven’t learned it.” Which, I mean... fucking DUH!!!

I see masters and doctoral recitals where there is narry an in-tune note in sight, yet these students are still being awarded their degrees. 

FOR WHY????

Don’t fucking perform the Tchaik concerto if you can’t play it in tune. Don’t perform the Bach chaccone if you can’t break the chords properly. What is the POINT in performing a piece if you’re just going to do it wrong?? What is the POINT of performing shit that’s too difficult for you?? I mean, jeez, if you aren’t going to actually teach a student how to break chords or play fast scales... DON’T MAKE THEM PLAY PIECES WITH CHORDS AND FAST SCALES.

It’s apalling and enraging and I really need for it to stop and I think one thing I can do about it is contribute something academic on the matter to the world of string pedagogy. 

[book-pirate]

Looks like I’m back on my bullshit y’all. Prompt is: “witch tattoo artists who secretly disguise protective runes into all their tattoos” Lizzie/Dary ofc.

Check out my podcast with @oakleaves if you want more Jane Austen geeking out! Link is at @theaustenarchives

“Um, I’m looking for Lizzie Bennet?”

“Okay, do you have an appointment?”

Lizzie pushes away from her station on her roller chair and peeks around the corner. The girl talking with Kitty at the receptionist’s desk is young, probably at least as young as Kitty. She’s nervous, playing with her blonde hair. Lizzie would bet money she’s never gotten a tattoo before. And certainly not a magical one.

Lizzie’s been a tattoo artist for four years and a witch for much longer. Her parents despaired over her career choice but she didn’t want to be a healer or consultant or whatever it is more respectable witches do. Since she was old enough to hold a crayon she’s wanted to be an artist. And there was something, well, magical about tattoos.

In a literal sense, her tattoos don’t move, or catch the sun, or any other flashy tricks some would expect. Those tattoos really only work if the person is magical themselves; the spells and runes involved in making something like that work needs a larger power base than she can afford to give people who can’t maintain it.

No, the only way her tattoos are magical is that she hides runes in her lines, protective ones or good luck ones based on what she thinks her clients need. The kind of magic needed for those runes is much more bone deep, and the ink will hold it for as long as the person she tattoos lives.

It’s nothing major, just a little push into whatever she thinks would help. And that’s part of her magic, too, knowing what people need. What they’re missing in a big way. Like security or love, family or a little peace.

“Lizzie, do you have a minute?”

Kitty’s eyes meet hers around the corner, and she realizes she’s been staring too long. “Uh, yeah, come on back.”

The girl walks over to her hesitantly, sitting gingerly in the chair next to Lizzie’s station. “Sorry for, um, just walking in.”

Lizzie gives her a warm smile. “No worries, we welcome walk-ins. What can I do for you?”

“I’m not,” the girl exhales, “I’m not even sure I want a tattoo, to be honest.”

“That’s totally fine.” Lizzie pauses, considers. “What’s your name?” “Georgiana.” She finally meets Lizzie’s eye. “Well, Gigi to my friends.”

“Okay, Gigi. What’re your thoughts?”

“Um,” she pulls out her phone and swipes through a few things, “so, without getting in to it, it’s been a rough year. But I made it, and I’m set to graduate in two weeks with my Bachelor’s, so I’m finally in a good place. And I wanted to celebrate that.”

Lizzie smiles at her again, a little brighter this time. She can feel it, the heartache and the resolve thrumming in the girl’s veins. “I think that’s a great reason to get a tattoo. Not that you really need one, but, if you wanted one, it’s good.”

“Yeah?” Gigi brightens up, relaxes even further. “So, my degree is in music theory, and I play the piano. I was wondering, would it be possible to get a like, well, growing up my brother bought me an upright piano, and I’ve got a picture of it? If I could get it in, well, obviously the piano at a much smaller scale, and some notes? My brother used to play me, I guess it doesn’t really matter, but there’s this Tchaikovsky waltz? The one they used for Sleeping Beauty? The first five notes of my favorite part.”

It’s a lot of information to take in, but Lizzie thinks she’s got the idea. “Alright, let’s see that piano.”

Lizzie sketches as Gigi continues to talk, listens to the way she loves her big brother and how she feels music has saved her life more than once. In the back of Lizzie’s mind she’s also planning on how she’ll incorporate the runes, maybe in place of the stems that flow along the side of the piano. She’ll fix it so Gigi can’t even tell the difference.

At the end of it, Gigi gasps and is a little speechless, touching the rough draft almost reverently. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. My sister Mary plays the piano, too, so I’m pretty familiar with how to tattoo musical notes, too.”

Gigi smiles at her. “I know I made the right choice. Your instagram is what brought me here.” She looks back at the rough draft. “So, how much? When can I get it done?”

Lizzie sets the sketch done with a laugh. “Do you want color?”

“Yes, please. So like $1,000?”

“Jesus.” Lizzie chokes a little. “No, it’s really not that big. I’d say $350? If you want color that’ll have to be two different sessions, is that okay?”

Gigi nods. “Can we start today?”

Lizzie checks her watch. “I’ve got an appointment in thirty minutes, which won’t be enough time. Can you come in tomorrow?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much!”

Lizzie smiles at her again. “Really, the pleasure is all mine.”

* * * * *

Gigi’s first session goes really well. Lizzie was right in that she’d never gotten a tattoo before, but she lies perfectly still and doesn’t flinch away from the needle like she’s had some first-time clients do. No, it seems like all Gigi was waiting for to get a tattoo was an idea.

Lizzie really likes Gigi, too. She senses some loneliness that she hopes possibly becoming friends with Kitty would fix, since they chatted extensively before and after Lizzie gave her the first part of her tattoo.

Charlotte laughs at her a little, as they grab lunch at the reception desk. Kitty’s stepped out to grab herself something to eat, leaving Charlotte alone to tease Lizzie.

“You can’t just adopt everyone who comes into your shop, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lizzie waves her off. “If you met her you’d understand.”

“Except you’ve scheduled her for Sundays, which is one of the two days I’m off.”

Lizzie sighs dramatically. “Yeah, too bad for those damn labor laws.”

Charlotte snorts, and is about to respond when the doors to the shop are thrown open by a very tall, very angry looking man. “I’m looking for Elizabeth Bennet.”

There’s something about him that reminds Lizzie of her high school principal, when he’d learned it was her that caused the mirror in the boys’ bathroom to shout insults at them. “Uh,” she raises her hand, “present?”

Much like her old principal, the humor is lost on him, and he walks with quick steps toward the desk, brown eyes flashing in anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Eating?” she asks, rising to anger herself. “Mind telling me who the fuck you are?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy.” His nostrils flare almost comically. “You tattooed my sister. Against my permission.”

Her eyebrow raises. “You mean Gigi, right? Unless she got a super great fake made, she’s definitely 20. And able to make her own decisions.”

“That’s,” he frowns, stopping short, “you don’t have to be 21?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’ solely because she thinks it’ll annoy him. “Also, it’s super gross how you’re trying to police her choices.”

“I am not trying to police her choices, I’m trying to prevent her from doing something she’s going to regret in a month.” He gives her a once over, causing her remember her untamed, pink-streaked hair and mustard stain she missed near the hem of her shirt. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Her anger settles into a cold fury. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“It’s clear you don’t give much thought to your body.”

Both eyebrows raise. “First of all, you don’t know a thing about me, and that includes what I chose to do with my body. Secondly, I feel like I need to remind you this is a place of business, namely, mine, and it’s time for you to leave.”

“Fine.”

He turns to leave, but she can’t resist one last parting shot. “Oh, and Mr. Darcy? If Gigi doesn’t show up to her appointment in two days? I’ll come looking.”

He glares at her but otherwise leaves without another word.

She sits down and huffs, anger starting to recede as Charlotte lets loose a low whistle. “So, would this be a bad time to bring up how hot he was?”

“Charlotte!”

* * * * *

“I am so sorry,” are the first words out of Gigi’s mouth as she enters the shop.

Lizzie looks up at her from where she’s going over the bills with Kitty and flashes her a grin. “I’m assuming you’re apologizing about your brother and not about any potential regrets you have?”

“No,” Gigi gives a shakey laugh, “no, this was the best idea I’ve ever had. But I really am so -”

“Stop, Gigi, it’s fine,” Lizzie assures her. “Your brother isn’t the only person I’ve ever met that’s been unhappy with a choice I’ve made. All that matters to me is that you’re okay.”

“Yes, I’m better than okay.” Gigi starts lifting up her shirt. “Want to see?”

Lizzie laughs and tugs her towards the back. “Let’s do this where you’re not providing a free show for the neighbors.”

Kitty follows, and appropriately oohs and aahs at the work on Gigi’s ribs, before asking, “So, G, how’d your brother even see this?”

Gigi blushes as she takes a seat in the chair. “We don’t live together anymore but he has a key. I’d lost track of time and was applying the ointment you gave me when he walked in for our weekly dinner date.”

The two girls continue chatting as Lizzie preps her station. She lets the conversation wash over her as she gathers her supplies, and thinks about Gigi’s brother.

She understands how people can be confused as to why some people decide to get tattoos, even to be upset that their loved ones have made that decision. But to barge in on a shop like that? She’s pretty sure that’s a first.

The shading and color goes well, and Lizzie is able to slip in the runes in the piano, a little thrum of magic from her to Gigi, to protect her and keep her strong when she needs it.

“I really, really love it, Lizzie,” Gigi gushes, when she sees the finished product. “It’s better than anything I imagined.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she gives the other girl a squeeze. “Anytime you want another tattoo, or even just to talk, I’ll be here, okay?”

Gigi hugs her back, fiercely. “I will.” She turns to Kitty. “And I’ll see you Sunday for brunch?”

Kitty grins. “Yes! 10 o’clock, Brighton Teacakes. I won’t forget.”

After Gigi leaves, Lizzie tweaks her younger sister’s nose. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Kitty scowls at her and swats her away. “Oh, shut up.” She softens though, and looks up at Lizzie. “You put the protection runes in, right? And ones for good luck?”

“Of course.” Lizzie’s a little surprised. “Why?”

Kitty shrugs. “I get the feeling she needs it. She seems a little lonely.”

Lizzie hums, reaching out with her magic, feeling the tendrils of Kitty’s own. Kitty’s still young, her magic unsure. But Lizzie can make her feel better. “You know what? I have a feeling she’s going to be just fine.”

* * * * *

It’s not very often that Lizzie is completely alone in the shop, but it does happen. Sometimes on Sundays, when she’s the only artist in the shop, she’ll let Kitty go a little early to meet up with her friends before the office work week starts. Lizzie usually spends the time doing a deep cleaning of the shop.

Not that it really needs it, but she likes making sure the glass encasing her drawings are shining on the wall, and that her equipment is running as smoothly as magically possible.

She’s just about finished up, actually, when she hears the jingle of the door behind her.

“We’re just about to close, sorry!” She calls, before she rounds the corner and sees who it is. “Oh.”

Darcy looks somewhat sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” Lizzie snaps, arms crossed in front of her.

He winces a little at that. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse, honestly, but I promised your sister I wouldn’t murder you, so,” she raises an eyebrow, “why are you here?”

“Um,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, stares at the floor, “I came in to give you an apology.”

She blinks in surprise. “What?”

“An apology?” He sighs, and meets her eyes. “I’m sorry, my treatment of you was unfounded and wrong, and extremely inappropriate.”

She feels slightly dazed, and edges a hip onto the reception desk. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I didn’t,” he sighs again, and scrubs at his face, “you have to understand. I’ve taken care of Georgiana since she was six.” At her blank stare, he continues, “I was only eighteen myself, and am convinced I screwed up all the time. She, uh, I don’t know how much she shared with you, but I wasn’t sure she was even going to graduate this year, or ever. And when she got the tattoo, I thought, well, I thought she was slipping again.”

Lizzie snaps back to herself. “That’s such a common misconception -”

“I know,” he cuts her off with a weak smile, “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

“As long as you know it’s wrong.”

“I do.” He clears his throat. “I also, uh, wanted to thank you for the tattoo.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“The runes you put into it? I noticed,” he explains, “and I really, really appreciate it.”

For the first time, she feels a magic that’s not familiar to her in the shop. She sways a little, and is glad she’s leaning against something. “But -”

“No, Gigi doesn’t have it,” he explains, guessing what she’s about to say. “For some reason, only the men get it in my family.”

“Only the women get it in mine,” she says, still in shock. “Well, mostly. My youngest sister and mother don’t have it, but.” She realizes she’s rambling. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s, it’s fine.”

It’s quiet for a minute as Lizzie tries to get her thoughts in some sort of order. Finally, she settles on, “Well, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really the least I can do.” He turns to go, before nodding once and turning back. “Actually, can I make an appointment?”

“For a tattoo?” She might actually die.

“Yes, if that’s okay.”

She stays in a daze as she sets up an appointment for next Sunday, late enough where she can make sure she’s the only one at the shop. She doesn’t know how to deal with him so she can’t even imagine what Charlotte, Kitty, and Maria would say, to him, and to her. Her heart is a confused mess.

He gives her a small smile as he leaves and suddenly things come sharply into light. Oh no.

* * * * *

Darcy settles on getting his family’s crest and motto, ‘Fortis In Arduis’, on the inside of his arm. Small and, as she learns, utterly him.

She anticipates three different sessions, for the line work and shading and more line work on top of it. It shouldn’t be bigger than the palm of her hand when she’s done, something he appreciates.

“Worried you’re making a choice you’ll regret in a month?” she says, teasing him a little. They’ve met once since he asked for an appointment, to sketch out what he wanted, so some of the awkwardness has subsided.

Not all of it though, and he blushes a little at her choice of words. “I’m sure I won’t.”

She gets to know him, slowly but as intimately as it can be, with her face inches from his for hours. He’s hesitant to talk at first, but starts opening up, about his business, how he doesn’t have many friends, and how his magic is only good for little things, like knowing the weather or who to hire.

“I’m sure it’s better for more than that,” she tells him, tongue pressed up against the side of her mouth as she traces a curve. “You just have to let it speak to you.”

“Maybe,” he allows, “unfortunately, my father died when I was young, and I didn’t have any other family members to ask. The only remaining relatives I had were on my mother’s side, and they’re not magical.”

“Well,” she says, after a moment of hesitation, “if you wanted, I’m no master but I’d like to think I know my way around a spell book or two.”

His eyes are warm as they meet hers. “I would like that. Very much.”

She hums as she quickly turns her eyes back to his arm, telling herself she’s getting into very dangerous territory indeed.

It’s probably a good thing that she keeps it on the down low, though that doesn’t last too long. Honestly, looking back on it, it’s a miracle she manages to keep it a secret for as long as she does. They’ve only got one session left when Gigi drops by to pick up Kitty for lunch and says, “Lizzie my brother’s tattoo looks so good!”

Lizzie chokes on her sandwich as Charlotte thumps her on the back, grinning like a cat who’s just caught a nice meal. Kitty shoots her a look that says, ‘we’ll talk about this later’ as they leave.

“So, Mr. ‘Not-In-A-Thousand-Years’, huh?”

Lizzie shoves at her best friend. “Shut up. He changed his mind and wants a tattoo, so?”

Charlotte tsks. “That’s a pretty dramatic 180.”

“Stranger things have happened!”

“Name one.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Lizzie groans. “Damn it.”

Charlotte pats her shoulder. “At least admit he’s hot, come on.”

“You’re the worst and I hate you.”

“Love you, too, babe. Love you, too.”

* * * * *

Lizzie feels a little anxious at Darcy’s last session, almost like how she felt when she did her first tattoo. She knows, however, that instead of being afraid she’s going to fuck it up, she’s afraid she’s not going to see him again. Even though she offered to help him with his magic, they still haven’t exchanged phone numbers or made any plans. He was probably just being polite.

He finally comes in, a little later than usual and a little more quiet.

She shoots him a concerned look as he takes a seat. “Everything okay?”

He seems to give himself a little shake before smiling up at her. “Yeah. I just, uh, had a question.”

“Sure.”

“What runes were you thinking of using?”

She blanks for a moment. “Oh. I guess, I wasn’t sure if you wanted them.”

“Ah.”

He looks a little disappointed, so she scrambles to correct herself. “Not that, uh, the protection ones? But,” she goes quiet as she searches her magic, “I don’t know if that’s appropriate. Maybe good luck?”

“What about something for ease of mind?”

She hums. “Those are generally harder. If it’s too strong people will stop worrying about anything.” She searches again, an idea coming to mind. “You know what? I’ve got just the thing. But it’s a surprise.”

He laughs a little, the good humor returning to his face. “Okay, I trust you.”

There’s more silence between them, this time around. He asks how her family is, and she tells him about Jane’s new summer school students and how Mary is finally moving in with her girlfriend. After that, however, it’s quiet, but comfortable. She doesn’t feel the need to force conversation with him, and, with a sharp, fierce feeling, she realizes she’s going to miss him.

She almost wants to take the tattoo much more slowly, just to draw out the time, but she wouldn’t risk the integrity of her work for something like that.

“Okay, all done,” she says, pushing him towards the mirror. “Take a look.”

He stands up and examines the tattoo, where the golds and reds sit under the griffin that’s his family crest, and the motto with the tiny runes bordering it.

“I don’t,” he huffs, “sorry these aren’t familiar to me.”

“How do you like the rest of it?” she asks, carefully.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says, a smile breaking across his face, “but I’m sure I’d love it more if you told me what those runes mean.”

She takes a deep breath and walks over to him. “This one,” she taps a sequence, “so that you may always know your heart, even when it’s hard, and this one,” she taps the other, “so that you can recognize the love of the people around you, so you realize you’re not as alone as you think.” He’s quiet, as he stares, so she continues, “I’m sorry, if that was presumptuous of me. I can inscribe over them.”

Instead of responding, he turns to her, eyes dark with emotion, and presses his lips against hers. It’s tentative, at first, but after she gets over the initial shock and throws her arms around his neck, he gets stronger and more sure as his lips press more firmly against hers.

He’s been wearing those ribbed tank tops so she can have unrestricted access to his arms, and she appreciates it more now that she can let her hands wander over his toned arms, and slip her fingers under the hem of it, to ghost along his stomach.

In return, one hand of his goes to her hair, and the other goes to her waist, bending her over slightly for a better angle. Her magic is brushing up against his in a way that makes her think, yes, I’ve found you.

They break apart gently, the fact that they’re in her shop with the windows open coming back to them slowly. He laughs a little. “Sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, more than a little confused. Her brain seems to have shorted out.

He turns her slowly so she can see herself in the mirror. She laughs, too, to see her hair more wild than usual, and her shirt rucked up around her hips. He’s not much better, with swollen lips to match hers.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and he smiles, a little shyly. “So, are you busy tomorrow?”

She reaches over and interlaces their fingers. “Are you busy for the rest of your life?”

His smile grows then, stretches as far as it can. “Let’s see about dinner, first.”

They can do that. She’s not worried.