#piano can write

[pianokantzart]

The One to Blame (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Content Warning: Blood, trauma, graphic description of injuries

______

As the airship rose to the top of the castle where Bowser stood, Mario, Toad, and Princess Peach shared a silent agreement that their only goal at this point was to get Luigi to safety. They soon learned, once they got a better look at the situation, that this would require the difficult task of freeing Luigi from Bowser’s grasp without accidentally breaking his neck, as the koopa’s hand was still clamped down over the man’s face like the teeth of a bulldog. But they had the element of surprise on their side. The appearance of Peach outside of her cage and the reemergence of a “conquered” foe was a dual shock that caused Bowser to lower his guard, and Toad used the opening to launch a cannonball into the koopa king’s shoulder. Incredibly, the impact wasn’t enough to cause any serious damage, but it was enough to elicit a roar of pain as he released his captive to hold his injury. The second Luigi was dropped Mario and Peach rushed in and ushered his limp form to the deck of their airship.

Their greatest stroke of luck was that the warp whistle hadn't been wasted. Early in Mario's journey there was no small amount of temptation to use it to avoid certain dangers they encountered on their way to The Dark Lands, though they knew it was far wiser to save it for the journey back when things would likely be at their worst– which proved to be an understatement. By the time Luigi was on board the stollen vessel, Bowser’s pursuing forces had joined the battle, and the great flying galleon was rendered barely able to stay airborne amidst the damage laid into its hull by the attacking clown cars, bullet bills, and the jet of flames Bowser spat out in rage.

Toad, clinging to the ship’s controls in a struggle to keep them from free falling, blew into the whistle on Peach’s command, and with a shrill tweet the quartet disappeared from Bowser’s view along with the crumbling ship.

In a flash, they reappeared in The Mushroom Forest just outside of Peach’s beloved kingdom. A gentle rain shower had blown in during their absence; another stroke of luck that extinguished the flames of the airship as it finally succumbed to the damage and crashed, toppling giant mushrooms in its path as it landed with a heavy thud in the cool, damp earth. Toad braced himself against the steering wheel. Princess Peach and Mario pressed around Luigi to hold him steady.

Once all was still, save for the sound of falling rain and the creak of the airship as it settled deeper into the mud, Mario was first to act, his greatest impulse being to start carrying his brother toward civilization. When Toad emerged from the driver’s seat and finally got a proper look at the severity of Luigi’s condition, he followed suit, struggling to find some unbroken part of the man by which to pick him up until Princess Peach stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We’ve moved him around too much already. Wait for help to come.”

She pointed to the Mushroom Kingdom in the distance. Toad looked, and could see glimmer of lamp lights already venturing closer– excited soldiers and citizens who had noticed the ship’s appearance from a distance, and were now eager to see whether or not Mario’s mission had been successful.

Toad nodded and stayed put.

Mario, however, seemed blind and deaf to everything except his own misguided determination. He grabbed Luigi under his arms, struggling to lift his dead weight until he caught a good look at his brother’s face, and froze. Up until now, Mario had seen little of Luigi’s features through the fog of adrenaline. They had mostly been either hidden in Bowser’s hand, or masked by a thick layer of blood. 

The rain had now washed most of the blood away, though more continued to flow from Luigi’s mouth, nose, and ears, turning Mario’s white gloves a ghoulish shade of pink in his effort to carry him.

Mario's mind– struggling to comprehend what it was seeing– couldn’t help but compare the appearance to smashed bread dough or a dropped cake. He felt lightheaded and distant, like all was little more than a lucid nightmare.

Luigi’s lips, purple, swelled, and split, parted to mutter something that Mario struggled in vain to understand, and in his anxiousness he mistakenly stepped on the ruined remains of the shattered leg, causing the mutter to break into a gargled scream so horrible that Mario panicked and collapsed under his brother’s weight. Toad and Princess Peach acted quickly. They grabbed the duo as they fell, Toad taking charge of Luigi to carefully guide him back down to the floor while Peach wrapped her arms around Mario and pulled him off the deck of the downed ship, away onto the grass at the base of the wreckage. She did so with more aggression than intended. She was expecting a fight, but was dismayed when the plumber numbly allowed himself to be dragged away without resistance, fists clenched and shaking with sobs. Seeing this, she switched tactics. She held him tight and spoke quiet reassurances, struggling to hold back tears of her own. “He’ll be fine. You did it. You saved him. I promise you, with all of my heart, he’ll be alright.” Mario barely heard her over the continued patter of rain. The distant lantern lights rushed closer, rumbling in on a blur of color and voices. There were tugs on his sleeve that were batted away and a few muffled voices saying his name– conversations swelling and falling in volume as his mind drifted. ___

Mario recalled that in the short span of time since he had moved to The Mushroom Kingdom, he became renowned as the one who put an end to Bowser's reign of terror. Naturally, this meant Mario was the first person everyone looked to when Bowser was broken out of prison by his minions and successfully captured Princess Peach during his escape. They gave a lot less credence to Luigi’s abilities. The toads liked him well enough, but he was rarely regarded as anything more than “Mario’s brother.” Up until Bowser’s escape Mario had found this annoying, but when his own reputation came with the burden of responsibility he saw a bright side: Luigi had no obligation to go anywhere or do anything that would put him in danger. Mario had hoped to one day go on adventure with his brother (albeit in circumstances far less dire), but he knew that his own dreams and those of the ever-cautious Luigi were not always going to perfectly align, and this time Mario was determined not to act mindlessly like he did back in Brooklyn when he first started the plumbing business, or when he tried to save the flooding city. He would not throw himself into danger while fully expecting his sibling to follow in his footsteps.

To his surprise, Luigi had already readied a backpack full of supplies the moment he heard word of The Princess’ capture, fully anticipating adventure well before Mario relayed his plan to embark on a rescue mission. He even seemed almost disappointed to hear that the effort was in vain, as Toad already had a pack prepared with the essentials. “Well, it couldn’t hurt,” Luigi shrugged, shoving an extra box of matches into the front flap of the backpack before hoisting the straps onto his shoulders and heading toward the doorway. In the long run, his extra provisions would provide them with only some ramen cups and an extra blanket before the pack met its end in The Seaside Kingdom– grabbed in the beak of a cataquack, ripped from his back, and torn to pieces. But in that moment of preparation, losing spare supplies was the last thing Mario was worried about, and with a determination that surprised even himself he moved to intercept his brother before he reached the doorway. “Wait! Luigi, are you sure you want to do this?” Luigi stopped and stared with a confused expression. “What do you mean?” “This journey is going to eventually take us to The Dark Lands. Do you really want to go back there?” “Ha! no!” Luigi said, forcing a laugh. “But The Princess risked her life to save me. It’s only right that I do the same for her.” Luigi tried to side-step his brother, but Mario mirrored his motions to stay in the way. “We may end up facing up against Bowser again! This time we won’t have any superstar to help us out.” “But I’ll have you, won’t I? And nothing can hurt us as long-” “-As long as we’re together. I know. I know. I just…” Mario trailed off, unable to quite find the words to explain why he was so uncertain. There was more to his hesitation than just a desire to allow Luigi to make his own choices. At this point, his choice his clear. But ever since the incident in the warp pipe (and everything that followed), Mario had become far too aware of the effect his actions had on his brother. He suspected that was why he had this ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach that if they took on this mission as a team, something terrible would happen. Luigi sighed. He gave the tops of his hands an anxious rub before he spoke again. “Look, Mario, I won’t go if you don’t want me to, but first you gotta look me in the eye and say it…” He leaned down so they were face-to-face, and stared at him with a somewhat comedic intensity. “… Just say ‘Luigi, I don’t want you to come with me,’ and I’ll leave you to it. Promise.” In the end, Mario didn’t have the heart to say it. His nagging fear did not outweigh his desire to embark on this adventure with his brother by his side, and part of him knew Luigi wouldn’t have given that ultimatum if he suspected he’d actually follow through. He wanted to come, that much was clear. Who was he to tell him “no”? And it had gone so well up until the end! They were as good adventurers as they were plumbers, if not better. Mario was certain he wouldn’t of gotten half as far as he did without Luigi watching his back, and whenever Luigi was scared or cornered all he needed to do was shout “Mario” and– ___

Before he could finish the thought, Mario felt his heart seize up. His whole body felt in free-fall when he suddenly realized what Luigi had been trying to say earlier through shattered teeth and a broken jaw. Mario. “My name.” Mario looked up from his daze with a frantic desperation. “He was trying to… oh Luigi…” As the world came back into view, Mario saw that there were toad guards scattered about, working on the wrecked airship to unload its artillery and ensure that the fire was fully put out. A few of them startled when Mario moved, most of them giving sympathetic glances before returning to work, but the only truly familiar face to be seen anywhere was Toad. He was holding out his umbrella, dedicating its entirety to shielding Mario from the steadily increasing downpour, paying no mind to how soaked his own clothes were becoming with every passing second. When Toad saw Mario finally recover his senses he couldn’t help but smile with relief as he stepped a little closer.

“Hey! You' okay?” “Luigi.” Mario gasped like he was coming up for air, “Where’s Luigi?” “Don’t worry, he’s safe. The Princess is with him. He’s going to– well, he’s probably at a hospital by now. We can–” He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Mario bolted toward town. Toad tried to fold his umbrella and put it away, but finding he didn’t quite have the time he simply tossed it aside before chasing after his friend, struggling to keep up with the plumber through the heavy rain.

[thisdorkyblogthing]

Thorki AU where Thor and Loki start a band when they're teens but it's mostly just the two of them because they're messy little fuckers who constantly butt heads and no one can stand to be around them for too long. Somehow, they're still really good and end up getting picked up by a record label and become a hit. This, of course, makes them even messier fuckers and their constant drama makes them an even bigger draw to more people. They manage to find a small team of people who are (mostly) willing to stick it out with them and make a few hit albums and get through a few tours. (They just barely manage to get through them by the skin of their teeth, but still!)

Unfortunately, their latest album hasn't done as well critically or commercially and the tension between Thor and Loki has been at an all time high, which has really made touring unbearable for everyone involved. A particularly rough performance the night before ended up with Loki and Thor getting into a(nother) nasty little ruckus that had their manager calling up the front desk of the hotel with a preemptive "I'm sorry for whatever happens to that suite, we'll pay for the damages, please don't call the cops, thank you."

They show up to the tour bus the next morning and something's... different. Sure, usually after a bad argument they're a bit quiet and sulky until one of them cracks a joke that makes the other laugh and everything's good again until the next shitfit ensues, but this time they're real quiet and avoiding looking at each other(and everyone else) and everyone's getting worried that this might be the fight that finally breaks them up.

Except actually they had an angry fuck after Loki said 'We'Re NoT EvEn ReEeEeAl BrOtHeRs!!?!' for like, the 700th time and Thor was like 'FINE!' and smashed their mouths together. Things Happened and now they're a bit shell shocked and trying to figure how to feel about it. (And trying valiantly to convince themselves It Wasn't That Good.)

(It was That Good. Oops.)

[bogos-bint3d]

I had a thought of something today while I was trying to play the piano but I kept getting the wrong notes because my hands were shaking

[saphstories]

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

A ShadowxAurora One Shot

Shadow never meant to keep it. With the limited space in his apartment, a piano wasn't exactly practical. But he'd seen it sitting on the street while on a run, a pathetic little spinet that apparently wasn't worth the effort for repair according to the owner, so it sat in wait for the dump truck.

Omega thought he was nuts when Shadow had used Chaos Control to transport the piano into the apartment, and perhaps he was. The instrument had definitely seen better days, and it would take more than a simple tune up to get it in pristine condition again.

That didn't stop Shadow from shoving the spinet against the wall between his mattress and the front door and then going out to purchase the necessary items for piano repairs.

The spinet became Shadow's passion project over the next several weeks. Any spare moment between his mercenary work with Omega and dates with Aurora, Shadow could be found with the spinet piano, painstakingly doting over the instrument to set it to rights again.

"You never told me you can fix instruments." Aurora had noted once, sitting on the little bench with her legs swinging while half of Shadow's body was inside the back of the spinet.

"Never came up." Shadow had grunted.

"Where'd you learn?" She'd pressed.

Shadow had shrugged. "I did a lot of things while off world, Light. Sometimes I was asked to fix things, and music is universal." Aurora had accepted that answer, and Shadow minutely relaxed.

No way he was EVER going to tell her that some aristocrat across the galaxy had taken fancy to him and tried to get his attention by breaking her piano, just so he'd come and fix it. It was the fastest he'd ever fled a planet. Omega still hadn't let him live it down.

The plan for the spinet once he'd finished repairs was simple enough: take it to the resale shop and get a decent sum of cash for it. He'd contacted the shop, gotten a good offer, and was set to deliver and receive his rings, but when he arrived and saw the buyer...a mother and son duo, the latter whom was whining about how much he HATED piano lessons and was currently and carelessly swinging a baseball bat around in his fit....Shadow took his piano and left.

No way was Shadow going to let all his hard work repairing his baby go to waste on some ungrateful brat that lacked basic appreciation. So, the little spinet piano became a permanent fixture in his apartment.

Shadow had never considered himself a musician of any sort. He was a warrior, a mercenary, the Ultimate Lifeform, a guardian. Music...required a certain softness that Shadow, with all his broken pieces and jagged edges, simply did not possess. But, somehow, that didn't matter. Sitting at his little spinet, gingerly filling his apartment with the soft tones of the classics centered him with a kind of peace he rarely ever achieved...with one exception. When he played, Shadow could pretend that was all there was. Just him and his spinet, creating something beautiful together. It was almost magical, if he believed in such a thing.

Shadow huffed a quiet chuckle, gently resting his hand atop the keys but not pressing down, his thoughts drifting towards the other almost-magical thing in his life. Honestly, if it magic was a thing, Shadow could believe it, because of her. The way she pranced through life, with such light and arms wide open, eager and excited for whatever came her way...could anything else but magical describe his precious Light?

Almost without his command, his fingers gently drifted across the spinet's keys, a delicate melody that swirled and danced through the air. Shadow sighed.

"Though I tried before to tell her

Of the feelings I have for her

In my heart.

Every time that I come near her

I just lose my nerve as I've done

From the start."

How many times has Shadow looked into those emerald eyes, seen that smile, and choked? It was three simple words, why was it so difficult? He's made peace with the past, hasn't he?

"Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

A sniffle behind him had Shadow whirling around, Chaos Spear halfway formed in his hand and a snarl on his muzzle, when those same piercing emerald eyes damp with tears stopped him dead. Shadow gulped, his ears flattening against his head. Damn. How long had she- Shadow made get up, averting his eyes as embarrassment colored his cheeks rosy red.

And then she's right there, pushing him back down on the bench with pleas of "Please don't stop, don't mind me-," and she's still looking at him with those eyes, pleading and wet, her body pressed tight against his side, lips protruding in the most pitiful pout...

Chaos, he was screwed, wasn't he?

Shadow sighed and tapped her nose with his finger. "You will say nothing to anyone about this." He commanded, and tried to ignore how distracting that beaming smile was in order to return to the piano. He gulped, frozen with his fingers in position. He knew his voice was not what anyone would call gifted, hers was so much better, and he chanced a glance down to his shoulder where she'd laid her head. She smiled at him again, eager and encouraging, and Shadow gulped and resumed playing.

"Do I have to tell the story

Of a thousand rainy days

SInce we first met?

It's a big enough umbrella

But it's always me

That ends up getting wet.

Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

Shadow rested his cheek against the top of her head, mindful of the short grouping of quills that acted as bangs, closing his eyes momentarily and just breathing.

"I resolve to call her up

A thousand times a day

And ask her if she'll marry me

In some old fashioned way.

But my silent fears have gripped me

Long before I reach the phone.

Long before my tongue has tripped me

Must I always be alone?"

Her arms squeezed him gently, reassuringly, around his middle, and he pressed a kiss to her head in response, smiling at the growing damp spot on his shoulder.

"Every little thing she does is magic,

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on,"

Shadow dropped one hand from the piano and cupped Aurora's cheek, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, shining with light and joy, and he knew his words wouldn't fail him this time. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Every little thing you do is magic

Everything you do just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Know that my love for you goes on."

Shadow ended the song with a soft kiss to her lips, sealing his declaration of devotion with all the love and passion and dedication he had in his heart in the best way he knew how. Words always failed him, but somehow, in this moment, it didn't matter. Aurora wept through his kiss, and he smiled as they parted, a quirk of his mouth so gentle and loving that only she would ever get to see it.

Aurora pounced on him a single moment later, using her own gift of speed to press kiss after kiss on his lips, face, head, everywhere she could reach, glowing so brightly and joyfully exclaiming "I love you"s between kisses. Shadow briefly wondered how she wasn't suffocating before dismissing the thought and basking in their shared love, trading her kisses and words with ones of his own. It didn't matter anyway.

Every little thing she did was magic, after all.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

me, earlier this week: the characters in this one are 1920s showbiz folks, i should write a little cole porter-style song for it, that'd be fun

me today, up to my fucking eyebrows in rhymezone.com: oh right, cole porter's famous because what he did was hard

[siblingshuffle]

Day 8!

So, uh. Evil energy, yeah? It invades a person’s mind, enhancing any evil found within them to aid in its spread… and Bass used it as a power-up at one point…

————————————————————————

Piano: Roll. I was beginning to wonder whether or not you would show up.

Roll: Piano! Is there any chance we can fight some other time?

Piano: Unfortunately not. You see, my creator has given me new powers, and I have been eager to test them.

Roll: You don’t mean…

(An Evil Energy orb drops down.)

Roll: No! Piano, you don’t know what you’re messing with!

Piano: …?

Roll: It’s called Evil Energy. It’s very dangerous!

Piano: …

Piano: …That is the point.

Roll: !

Roll: …Fine! I’ll beat you like I always do!

Piano: I expect no less than your best effort.

————————————————————————

(Her regular Treble adaptor under the cut.)

Surprise Poll!

[littencloud9]

It’s a selfie that Lippmann took last year when they were at the bar, all of them in various positions. Albatross is chugging a glass of beer, having not noticed the camera yet. Doc is wearing Albatross’s sunglasses on his head and giggling. Piano Man has Chuuya in a headlock, grinning widely at the camera. Iceman is holding up a singular peace sign, cigarette still hanging between his lips. Chuuya doesn’t remember much from that night, but he does remember the feeling of warmth and laughter and home. “Damn you,” he whispers, heart feeling fond, “you’re gonna make me cry.” - or, 5 times chuuya felt what it was like to be loved + 1 time he was in love

🎉 teen and up, 6.5k, chuuya & the flags + minor skk

🎉 written for vik birthday @minusboy and also church server fic exchange :)

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I want to be an artistic generalist but it’s so unrealistic for me rn!!

[00fairylights00]

Pinocchio is not immune to the effects of being called a Pretty Boy, send post

[hamable]

HEAR ME OUT!!!

Bakudeku/Class-1A Camp Rock AU

DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THE VISION

[itsamenickname]

Can someone please recreate the "Peaches" scenes from the Mario movie, but instead of Bowser singing about Peach, change it to where Luigi is singing about Bowser?

[askblueandviolet]

Can you play any other musical instruments?

MASTER POST

Asks Start 💙

Previous 💙

Next 💙

[mellotronmkll]

Wverytime I sit down at a computer to make music I get so scared

[not-poignant]

Hello Pia, you recently shared a post about an idea "too good" to write. Could you maybe elaborate a little on that point? What does that mean to someone who appears to be quite skilled in creating stories and characters?

Sure!

I think everyone, at every stage in a skill they're honing, have goals they're trying to reach and skills they know they still need to work on. Even the folks who - from other people's perspective - seem like they (mostly) have it all together.

When I was working as an artist for example, I used inks and pencils at a professional level. I did natural history illustration at a professional level. I was very good at what I did and have sold the vast majority of everything I've ever illustrated!

But I'm still not skilled at drawing people (I'm getting better). I'm not skilled at oil paints or acrylics. And while some of my skills would transfer over pretty well (having a good eye, having a great sense of colour, having a decent sense of composition), it still remains that I have a lot to learn because being skilled in one thing is not being skilled at another.

And when you work like that and understand the craft like that, it gives you a different perspective. Folks who have zero ability in art might look at an artist's illustrations and simply assume they can easily transfer that to any medium or subject or technique, and folks who have more ability than the artist might look at their art and be like 'oh they're very good at animals and pencils but I've noticed they're weak on dynamic posturing and perspective.'

So where I'm at in writing is like this. I have a fair idea of my strengths, but I also have a fair idea of my weaknesses. There's certain very large scale ideas that I suspect I'm not yet ready for, because of either the scope of the plotting, or the depth of the worldbuilding. (I find worldbuilding easy. I find remembering all the details I created very hard).

There's also the fact that some of it is almost certainly fear. Like, fear of trying something new, fear of it going wrong, fear of making mistakes to get better. That absolutely is part of the journey, and the only way to overcome that is to get started and begin making the mistakes.

But no matter what level you're at, there's always a level you know you can't reach without more training and practice. The good news is a person doesn't always have to "grow" their skills relentlessly, just practicing what they love keeps what they do honed anyway. Like, I could stop here and keep writing the kinds of stories I write and do that for another ten years.

But I do want to keep growing, and keep learning new ways of telling stories, so...yeah, I do have story ideas that I know I'm not good enough to write (well) yet.

[izloveshorses]

I didn't teach her that...

canon compliant act ii missing scene, 1.4k. we can never get enough of dimya in their besties era <3 (also on ao3)

The hotel was nice, to say the least. 

Dmitry felt a little like a fish out of water, to be honest, since he had never known such luxury. The lobby alone was grand with its tall marble columns and massive paintings adorning the walls and rich ladies with Chanel on their shoulders and heavy doses of perfume lingering in the air. He and Vlad had found a place to purchase new shirts and trousers and shoes for the pair of them and Anya had a new dress and some kitten heels, needing to look the part of suitable patrons for such an establishment. This was Paris, after all. And since they were right on the Seine, they needed to fit in. 

Vlad had some stipulations to discuss with the concierge before they went out to eat, so Dmitry found a spot on the plush love seat, content with watching the busy Parisians enter and exit. Anya was too excited to sit still. 

“Oh, look!” she said before she even sat down. She’d been saying that nearly all day, Dmitry didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t know how many more famous paintings he had in him, but instead he watched as she moved towards a shiny black piano as grand as the lobby. 

As if transfixed, Anya’s fingers ghosted over the top of the instrument. Dmitry didn’t see any signs and no one stopped them, so he didn’t try to stop her when she sat on the leather seat and opened the fallboard, revealing a row of ivory white keys. Her fingers ran over the keys and then tentatively pressed down on one. Nobody intervened at the sound of the single note. So she plucked a few more, like a child learning to walk. Dmitry grinned. She was always so easily entertained, it was endearing. 

And then out of nowhere, Anya started playing a song, a real song, the melody sounding eerily familiar and new all at once, slowly at first, and then with the surprising confidence of a pianist playing with a full piece orchestra behind her. 

His eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected that. From across the lobby, he and Vlad made eye contact, equally amazed. I didn’t teach her that, Vlad said with just a mere shrug. 

When the song finished— or when she ran out of notes— Dmitry asked, “Where did you learn that?” 

“I don’t know,” she answered, as if coming out of a trance. He felt stupid for asking. But she didn’t seem lost in a memory, unreachable and haunted, like what had happened countless times since he’d known her. Her eyes were bright and clear, not cloudy with the haze of distant dreams. “I couldn’t tell you who taught me, but I can tell you this was Debussy.”

Dmitry didn’t know what she was talking about, but she tossed a wicked grin over her shoulder and curled her finger at him, beckoning him closer. He hesitated, just for a moment. But how could he resist? His feet pulled him to the open space next to her on the leather stool. Her body was warm against his. She tapped another song, much smoother and shorter, sounding like purple flowers and summer time. 

“This is Beethoven,” she said over the music. Dmitry still didn’t know how to respond, so he just sat dumbly with his hands in his lap. 

It was good to see her like this. She had always been so somber, so grave, so serious. She did carry a certain warmth or joy within her, sure, but back in Russia she had to set that aside for the sake of pragmatism and survival. Now she seemed lighter. Easier. Less tired. Perhaps this was who Anya really was, deep down, when she didn’t have to worry about finding her next meal. Dmitry wondered what type of person Paris would reveal him to be. Who he was without strife.

“I don’t know how you do that,” he finally said when she slowed. 

“It’s easy, here,” she took his wrist and angled his hand over the keys. 

He panicked. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” 

She gave him an unimpressed look. “We’ll play a different song, this one’s a duet.” She manipulated his hand until he was hovering over the correct keys. “Just play this,” she tapped out a simple, one-handed pattern on a set of keys closer to her, “until we’re done.” 

His ears burned, but he did as told, clumsily until it was smooth enough to satisfy her. And then she started a melody in time with his, something plucky and simple and joyful that made her smile with her tongue between her teeth and his own lips tug. 

“It’s a waltz,” she explained as the melody began to repeat itself for a second verse. 

He bit his lip, concentrating on the four notes he was instructed to play. “Maybe this song would’ve helped our dancing.”

She giggled. “Maybe.”

It was a simple song, really. Could’ve repeated for hours or stopped after a single verse. Dmitry thought about messing up on purpose so her hand would have to touch his again, but he thought that was a little pathetic so he didn’t. 

“How do you remember the notes without sheet music?” he asked eventually. 

“It’s not about the notes, necessarily, it’s…” she stopped playing, and so did he, and the silence was abrupt and yawning. “More like muscle memory. Like my body remembers.” 

He nodded. 

“I don’t think I liked playing,” she said in the quiet. The statement was so absurd he laughed. “The lessons must’ve always been awfully inconvenient and tedious.” 

“Well, you’re very good.”

She waved a hand. “These are simple songs. It’s not that impressive.” 

“Still, I don’t think I would make a very good musician. Clumsy fingers.”

“Nonsense. You played this waltz well,” she insisted. 

“Only because you taught me.” 

That made her eyebrows rise. He felt a flush in his neck when he realized what he said, but it was too late to walk it back, so he just stared down at his hands stupidly. This kept happening. Whatever you wanted to call it. No, it wasn’t quite flirting, not yet, but they were toeing that line closer and closer each day. Dmitry couldn’t decide if Anya was amused or delighted by his attempts or what. He couldn’t figure it out. Because, sometimes, he dared to believe she was almost-flirting right back. 

And then a wave of either bravery or stupidity washed over him when he asked, “What was that you were playing a minute ago…”

“Beethoven? Here,” she took his hands again, and he had to bite his lip to keep his smile small, while she showed him what patterns to play. 

He tried focusing on their hands, tried memorizing which keys to press, but he mostly just watched her. The way her brow knit with concentration, lip between her teeth, smile quirking at the corners when he hit a wrong note. Even though they were playing music there was still a quietness about it, something undemanding and soft. Her hands were so small but her fingers still managed to reach all the notes she needed. 

“Well,” Vlad appeared out of nowhere, startling both Dmitry and Anya enough to make their hands�� and shoulders, and hips, and sides— spring apart, “aren’t you full of lovely surprises, my dear.”

Anya smiled up at him. Dmitry had never been more irritated with his friend. 

“Shall we go to dinner, maestro?”

Anya giggled and accepted the hand he offered to help her up. “Where are we going?”

“I had to ask the concierge if my favorite cafe is still around. It is not, unfortunately. But he recommended a spot on the way to Little Russia.”

Without Anya sitting next to him, Dmitry felt the piano bench was much too wide, so he stood. “We’re still going to the Neva Club?” he asked. “What happened to the old man complaining about his aching feet the entire way here?” 

To his satisfaction, Anya gave him a private, amused smile. She agreed. He liked it when she agreed with him. 

“It’s the Parisian air,” Vlad deadpanned. “I feel ten years younger already.” 

Anya and Dmitry shared one more secret, microscopic smile as they followed their friend to the brasserie. But his thoughts still lingered on that piano, floating there like the notes echoing over the lobby. He wondered if he could get Anya back there again. If she would like it if he bought her some sheet music. If he would be silently tapping out the notes Anya taught him on the table for a long while. 

[coconut530]

AN. EPISODE. 🎸🪕🎻🪈🎺🎷🪘🥁🪇