#sorry for all these today at work posts but it's the darn holiday season so I haven't sewn anything recently to make a tutorial on

[20dollarlolita]

Chart demonstrating how me not telling you the inventory of a store that is a direct competitor of my store is not bad customer service. It is in my store's best interest for us to avoid encouraging you to go shop at another store that carries near-identical merchandise and caters to the same customers. We're not your buddy, pal; we're here to make money. Call them (no, I can't find their phone number for you, no, I can't call them for you) or go on their website (which, no, I don't know. Use that Google thing) and find out. Btw, "but I'm a customer and you should help me, and if you don't I won't come back," is a flowchart that also has two options. Option 1) you go to another store, find out you like them better, and stop coming here. 2) you get mad at me for not helping you find another store, you don't come back, and you have to find a better store on your own. 40% chance that that proves to be too hard, since you don't know that store and it requires original research, and you just come back to my store since you're familiar with it. Either way, if you're not a customer, you're not a customer. Telling someone to check the nearby party store or the hardware store for an item my store doesn't even remotely carry is very different from sending someone to my direct competitor. If you want to find a different craft store, you're on your own. On the list of stuff that I don't explain to customers this way: this. (the customer version, "No, I'm sorry, I don't know what keeps in stock. No, I'm sorry, I can't look that up for you. The computers here will only pull up .com sites. No, my phone's in my locker," *shoves phone deeper into pocket* "and I can't access the internet from my handheld computer. You can try Google. They usually have it. No, I can't search it up from your phone, sorry. Yeah, it's g-o-o-g-l-e dot com. Did you have anything you're ready to purchase from us today?")

[kristannastuff]

The Post-Holiday Surprise

A/N: I don't know if I'll be doing kristanna advent or not, but I have been writing a heck ton of kristanna fanfics lately so we'll see. Anyway, this is just a cute, fluffy, (probably too) cheesy kristanna fic for your Monday that I wrote last night instead of sleeping so I was at work all day hating my life.����

Find it here: [ff.net] or [AO3]

WC: 1,875

Rating: K+

Summary: Anna is feeling extra tired after the holidays and Kristoff is concerned. Both of them are surprised to find out why.

The Christmas season had been wonderful- truly everything Anna had wanted and more. The uninterrupted time she had been able to spend with her family had been just what she needed after working seemingly nonstop for the past year since she had become queen. The last time she had had such a long break was after she and Kristoff had gotten married that summer and they had gone on a three-week trip for their honeymoon. Now, however, the holidays were over and things were getting busy once again for the young queen. Which seemed backwards to her as overseeing events such as the ringing of the Yule bell and the annual Christmas party the palace now held were major events that took a lot of time and effort. Maybe the difference was that Christmas was Anna's favorite time of year so those things didn't really seem like work to her. Or maybe having Elsa at the palace for a few weeks in a row was what made it all seem less overwhelming. She had missed her sister as they hadn't had as much time to spend together prior to the holidays. Elsa had truly grown in so many ways over the last year and few months since she had taken on her role as the fifth spirit. Her powers had grown, and Anna had never seen her happier. Not to mention, Anna was thriving herself as queen. And with Kristoff by her side, she truly felt there was nothing she couldn't accomplish. Yes, she was thriving. That is, she had been up until the past few weeks. Maybe it was post-holiday burnout or maybe she was getting sick. Anna wasn't really sure, but it was beginning taking a toll. Kristoff had noticed, but Anna insisted she was fine. Because she was. Just tired. So, so tired- "Your Majesty?" Anna jumped, sitting up suddenly. She cleared her throat, facing General Mattias- who was sitting in the chair across from her- once again. "Yes, General, you were saying?" "We were looking at the blueprints for the new bridge on the southside of town," he supplied, indicating the parchment that was rolled out across her desk. "Yes, o-of course." "Queen Anna, are you feeling all right?" Anna nodded. "Of course, I am, Mattias. Why would you ask such a thing?" "Well, because you just fell asleep. And you have a little something-" he pointed to his mouth. Anna mirrored his actions only to find drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps we should finish this some other time," Mattias suggested. Anna opened her mouth to protest but then nodded instead. "Perhaps you're right." "And if I may suggest, you go lie down for a while? With all due respect, ma'am, you look- tired." She certainly felt tired. "Yes, I- I think I will. Thank you, Mattias." With that, Anna waited for him to exit the room before standing herself. She made her way out into the hall and up to her and Kristoff's bedchambers. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she needed to stop and catch her breath, feeling quite winded. 'What is wrong with me?' She wondered to herself. As soon as she was in the privacy of her room, she immediately kicked her shoes off, took off her crown, and laid down on the bed. It wasn't long at all before sleep claimed her. "Anna," a soft, deep voice pulled her out of her sleep. She opened her eyes to see Kristoff sitting next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?" Her husband asked, rubbing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I've been better," Anna admitted. Kristoff moved his hand from her cheek to her forehead. "Hmm," he said, frowning, "you don't seem to be running a fever." "I'm sure it's nothing," Anna told him, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. "Well, if you're getting sick, you need to take care of yourself. Maybe I should call for the doctor." "Kristoff," Anna said, sitting up, "it's nothing. I'm just tired. That's it." "If you're sure-" he replied, although he didn't look very convinced. "I am." She kissed his hand again. "What time is it?" "It's a little after six. I asked Gerda to bring up a tray up for you. Are you hungry at all?" He asked, reaching over to transfer the tray from the side table to her lap. Anna frowned, realizing that she wasn't- a very rare occurrence for her. "Not really." "When was the last time you ate?" Kristoff asked. "Umm, this morning at breakfast?" Anna answered timidly, realizing she had skipped lunch. "Anna." "What?" She asked. "Are you sure you're all right? You're tired and not hungry. Neither of those things are normal for you." She shrugged. "I know." "How long have you felt this way?" He asked. Before she could answer however, he added, "And be honest with me." "A week or so. Not long." "A week is six days too long," Kristoff said, standing. "I'm going to call for the doctor." Anna set the tray aside, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. "Kristoff, honey, you're overreacting. I'm fine." "And I just want to make sure of that," he replied. Anna bit her lip. "I know. But let's not disturb him tonight. He's probably eating his dinner." "There's more than one doctor in Arendelle," Kristoff said. "Kristoff." "All right," he replied, picking up the tray and setting it on her lap once again. "But you need to at least try to eat some of this while I go draw you a bath." "Excuse me sir, you are speaking to the queen of Arendelle." Kristoff smirked. "Oh, I am well aware of who I'm speaking to." He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "Aren't you afraid you'll catch my diseases?" Anna teased. "I'll take my chances," Kristoff replied before his lips met hers again briefly. "Now eat." Anna smiled up at him. "Yes sir." A few minutes later, after Anna had managed to finish about half of her dinner, she went into the adjoining bathroom where Kristoff had just finished preparing her bath. Anna soaked for a long time in the tub while Kristoff washed her hair and then massaged the knots out of her neck and shoulders. He even insisted on carrying her back to bed which was almost necessary given how relaxed she now felt. "I feel like a little kid," Anna joked after Kristoff had successfully tucked her into bed- a little too snugly, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Kristoff climbed into bed next to her and she cuddled close to him, craving his warmth. "Thank you," she whispered a few minutes later. Kristoff stroked her still-damp hair. "For what?" "For always taking care of me." He kissed her forehead. "You don't need to thank me for that. It's my privilege as your husband to take care of you in any way that I can." Anna yawned, feeling sleep coming closer and closer. "I love you-" she yawned again, "so much." Kristoff wrapped his arms around her tighter. "I love you too." The next morning, Anna reached for her husband, seeking his wamrth against the early-morning January chill, but his side of the bed was cold. 'Darn him,' Anna thought when she realized that it actually wasn't early-morning and the sun was quite high in the sky. How long had he let her sleep? She was just about to crawl out of bed when the door opened and in walked Kristoff. "You're awake," he said, going over to sit next to her. "How are you feeling?" "Not as tired," Anna replied, "that's for sure. How long did you let me sleep?" "It's almost eleven," Kristoff replied. Anna sat up on her knees. "Almost elev- Kristoff Bjorgman! I have a million things to do today!" "Woah there, fesitypants. No, you don't," Kristoff replied. "The only thing you have to do today is rest. Mattias and I took care or are in the process of taking care of everything else. Are you ready for the Doctor now?" "I just told you, I feel better." "No, you said 'not as tired'." Anna rolled her eyes. She slumped back against the pillows, crossing her arms. "Fine. Send him in." Kristoff kissed her forehead and made his way to the door. "I'll be right back. Better safe than sorry." "You sound like an old mother hen." Kristoff turned and smirked at her before exclaiming, "Cluck, cluck!" He just barely had time to shut the door behind him before Anna sent a pillow flying in his direction. Kristoff glanced up at the clock. The doctor had been in there for a while now. He would've stayed with Anna had he not been needed elsewhere. One thing was for certain, filling in for her certainly wasn't easy. "Kristoff," Mattias said, entering the room through the open door. "You had better come quickly. The doctor is finished and the queen is- well, she's apparently in a very emotional state." Kristoff pushed away from Anna's desk, hitting his knee on the corner of it. Barely noticing, he followed Mattias out of the study and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Why oh why hadn't he insisted she see the doctor last night? Why had he let her sleep in so long this morning when she could've seen the doctor sooner? As soon as he was at the top of the stairs, he rushed down the hallway toward their bedchambers. The doctor was just exiting their room. "Doctor-" "Your wife wishes to speak with you," was all he said and Kristoff pushed past the man and entered their bedroom. Anna was a sobbing mess, her face in her hands. Kristoff rushed over to sit next to her. "Anna, sweetheart?" Anna looked up at him then and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing harder. "Oh, Kristoff." "What? Wha-what is it?" He asked, very confused and concerned by all of this. "Oh Kristoff," Anna repeated, pulling away only to fall into his arms again. Kristoff had no idea what was going on, but he held his wife while she cried, trying to remain calm. "Anna," he said finally, not able to take it anymore. He took her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "What's the matter?" "N-nothing's the matter." 'Oh thank God,' he thought. But he was still confused. He took Anna's hands in his. "Well, I'm relieved nothing's wrong too, sweetheart, but why are you crying so much?" "Oh, Kristoff," she repeated for the third time, but this time it was followed by something he was not expecting. "Because I'm going to have a baby." "You're- wait, what?" Anna smiled through her tears. "I'm pregnant." "W-with a baby?" "That's typically how these things work." He gave himself a little shake. "I'm sorry, I just- a baby?" "We're gonna have a baby," Anna said. Kristoff couldn't say anything else. He didn't know what to say. Words weren't necessary however, as he pulled Anna close, his lips meeting hers. "A baby," he said at last, smiling at her between kisses.

[nolongerironicteenwrites]

5 of 10

 on the fifth day of ficmas admin gave to me five different fandoms, four late nights, three writing prompts, two fics no one asked for, and the hopes someone sends me something.

reader insert: “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess?”

send me something: https://kodalinx.tumblr.com/post/189175158618/christmas-is-coming-so-heres-some https://barnesrogersvstheworld.tumblr.com/post/189150819281/1-youre-freezing-come-here-2-thats-the

im not sure if i wanna write for this fandom, but however, i have been playing a few visual novels and we’re gonna write for that because no one can tell me what to do with my blog. 

Jullian Devorack x Aprentinace!Reader 

Julian paced the floor of his practice. He was anxious all of a sudden, nothing was sticking and time was getting thin. He needed to make this right. A knock pulled him from his trance and his feet drug him to the door. He swung it open and a mop of white hair slipped in under his arms. 

  “Hello to you Ilya, how are you today? Here is some sage for what you needed and- Julian!” 

The auburn-haired doctor jumped. 

  “I’m sorry Asra, thank you.Yes.” 

Asra handed over the pouch of sage to the doctor and looked at him hard. Asra was concerned. They hopped up on Jullian’s desk and crossed their legs. Jullian replaced a jar and kept up his busy work. Asra checked their nails and watched their friend frantically work around his shop. 

  “So are you going to explain to me what’s wrong or am I going to avoid my responsibilities forever and wait for you to tell me?” Asra inquired. 

  “You avoid your responsibilities anyway, (y/n) basically runs you guys shop.” Julian snapped, “I’m sorry.” 

Julian’s face was flushed as he collapsed into himself. He felt like something was odd. He sighed to himself and looked at Asra utterly defeated and Asra wanted to understand why he looked so upset. 

  “Ilya, you can talk to me.” Asra edged. 

  “It’s just, winter is upon us here and there is just a feeling around and I feel it. Tell me, how it (y/n)?” 

Asra smiled to themself. 

  “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess?” Asra waved off. 

Julian looked at them with a slight glare to his gaze. Julian was thrown off by what Asra commented. 

  “Excuse me?” Julian asked, eyebrow arched. 

Asra winked and hopped down. He waved his hand and made a slight twinkle happen in his eye. Julian glared at the back of his head on his way out. He never answered how (y/n) was and that simply won’t do. 

  “I’m head practicer I’m going see how my favorite magician is doing, darn it.” Julian huffed whipping off his jacket and leaving. 

Julian walked a few shops down to the shop. He knocked, announcing his presence and walking in. There was a bang and Julian rushed to where the bang was. There you were sitting trying to clean up vials that you knocked over in fright. 

  “Oh Julian, I should have known, hello, may I help you? Did Asra actually bring you the sage?” you asked. 

  “Yes, he did. Thank you. I needed to cleanse the, you know.” Julian referenced.

You looked up at Julian who was on his knees with you cleaning up. Your hands lightly brushed and his cheeks ignited. You looked at him confused. 

  “How are you?” Julian asked. 

  “Oh I’m grand, things are kind of crazy with the holidays and people coming in and out trying to make sure they are well enough,” you responded. 

  “Yeah, yeah. I understand.” 

  “Well bye, Julian.” You waved getting up. 

Julian got up and nodded and walked with you to the front of the store. The store was festively for the holidays coming up. There were holly leaves and ivy around. The garland was snow-covered and there was a charm to keep everything smelling like cinnamon and twinkling lights.  

  “I’ll have to get you to come to help me decorate my clinic.” 

  “I would love to come to help you Julian!” you beamed.

Julian was taken aback by how excited you seemed to get. He found himself smiling with you. 

  “You’re cute..” he muttered. 

  “I’m sorry?” you asked not paying complete attention. 

  “I mean, I’ll see you soon.” 

And Julian rushed out. You quickly waved and dropped down under the counter. 

  “He called me cute,” you whispered to yourself. 

Julian felt his heels clicking as he walked down to his clinic. Running through what he said. He called her cute. Instead of going to the clinic, he just went to see Portia, maybe she had a solution.  

[lonelypond]

Jingle Bell Jazz, Ch. 2

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2.8K, 2/?

Bibi hits the rehearsal room, but the mood is less than jolly...

Chapter Two

Nico was running late. She hated that. And too darn pretty and smelling like money and musk would probably be ten minutes early, having been dropped off by the family chauffeur. Nico couldn’t stop imagining what that would do to the redhead’s already snooty attitude. But Nozomi had put all of her comfortable winter wear in the wash, leaving her with a very form fitting pencil skirt and a pretty white blouse with a holly pattern scattered over it. Nico had draped a gray shawl over her hair before putting on her pea coat.

Maki was at the piano, shuffling through sheets of music, Eli running through scales on her sax at the window.

“Good morning, ladies. Let’s get to it.” Nico announced brightly as she opened the door.

“You’re late.” Eli grumped, interrupting her warm up.

“That’s Nozomi’s fault. She decided to mix Nico’s laundry with hers so Nico had to improvise.”

Maki had guessed wrong. No pants. Today, Nico had opted for a form fitting skirt, black, and a white blouse, three quarter sleeves, with a seasonal holly branch pattern scattered all over it. Maki wondered if the singer had opted for stockings again, stretching out a little as she settled into the piano so she could get a better view of the lower half of Nico’s outfit. Nope, black tights. Probably warm. Maki had leaned back from the piano to catch her glimpse, which when Nico noticed, her hands went to her hips and she met the curious purple gaze with a discouraging scowl. Maki put her nose back into the music propped in front of her.

Maki had dressed down as far as she was willing, gray turtleneck and one of her favorite black pleated skirts. Ayase, as seemed to be her habit, had opted for a flashier style than anyone else, in a green and blue windowpane shirtwaist dress, shorter than what was considered fashionable.

“All right, ladies, let’s get to it.” Nico did a quick shuffle, spinning, “I’m tired of picking the next train wreck. How about you, Eli?”

“I was working on “Silver Bells.”" Maki would have given half her trust fund for her voice to sound more confident, “It’s new. People will probably appreciate the novelty.”

Nico twisted her lip, glancing at Eli, who nodded.

“All right ki…”

“MA…”

“Maki,” Nico corrected herself with an apologetic tilt of her head and Maki felt hopeful that this session might be both more productive and friendly. ”At least it’s not in French.”

There went Maki’s optimism.

###

"Silver Bells" clanged. Badly. Even Eli’s temper was fraying. Nico had been stomping around the room during Eli’s solos, all of which Maki had interrupted, starting to rejoin the melody too early.

“Do you even know how to listen?” Nico snarled, on the divan, head in her hands, no longer able to look at the piano or its mistress.

“Yes…”

“We can’t play a show like this, Nico…” Eli sounded panicky, “That audience’ll eat us alive. It’ll ruin our reputation. And your chances with Tsubasa.”

“Nico knows.”

Nico looked tiny, Eli sat next to her, sax in one hand, the other around Nico’s shoulders, “What are we going to do?”

Maki knew the gloom in the room was her fault. But it wasn’t her fault that jazz piano was so different from classical piano. Or that she had never played with a group before. Her initial arrogance was taunting her now, undermining any empathy she might express for Nico and Eli’s distress. Nico stood, somehow elegant in her simple skirt and blouse, twisting her hair up again with a graceful gesture, then tapping Eli on the forehead, “Nico can do anything. We’ll do what Maki suggested. After all, It’s only one night.” Nico’s forced enough confidence in her voice to share with Eli, “You play, Nico will figure out a way to signal the rookie, and no one will have enough time to catch on.”

Eli glanced up, hopeful, “That could work.”

“It’s going to have to.” Nico had her hands behind her neck, as she wandered, “Nico will sell it, no one will be the wiser.”

Eli nodded.

“What kind of signal?” Maki’s voice was soft, but snapped the other two musicians out of their private moment.

Nico tilted her head back, eyes closed, hands still behind her neck. “Not a wink, maybe Nico will wrinkle her nose or flick a finger or something.”

“There could be a few.” Maki suggested.

“Yeah.” Nico put her hands on her hips, chin tucked down, blowing out a long breath as she reshuffled the cards she had available for this show. “But you just play, Eli, and don’t fret. Nico will work out a system.”

The saxophonist relaxed, her shoulders easing down, and her grip on the sax becoming less like holding onto the rail of the Titanic.

Eli was relieved, but Maki sensed Nico steeling herself, armoring up inside. How could jazz be this hard? Music was supposed to be orderly and organized, notes and measures solid foundations for art and culture. Jazz seemed to take that and paint mad notes and crazy colors all over, a slapstick mural of innovation. Maki had only a rudimentary knowledge of the genre and was a fan of a few singers, Ella Fitzgerald and Nancy Wilson for two, but she had never really considered the mechanics of the music they produced, how each singer, each quartet or quintet could take the same song and deliver it with such individual flair.

“Nico, Eli?”

Both of the women looked toward the piano, surprised at Maki’s contrite tone.

“I’m sorry.” Maki half smiled.

Nico waved off the apology. “You’re doing us a favor, actually, Maki, so don’t sweat it. We’ll cope. You don’t have to worry either.”

Eli nodded, “We appreciate you taking time away from your family during the holiday season.”

“Let’s try a new song.” The atmosphere in the room had eased and Maki decided to try to be more of a team player, “Winter Wonderland is one of my favorites. And works just as well post Christmas.”

“Especially if we get the first snowfall by then.” Eli’s eyes brightened.

“Eli’s part reindeer.” Nico chuckled, “She prances once there’s enough snow to make everything Christmas card perfect.”

Eli, as best she could with sax still in hand, swept into an Arabesque.

Nico was leaning on the piano, “Too many Nutcrackers as a child. Ruined her for the season.”

Maki, emboldened by the increasingly friendly vibe, started the “Waltz Of The Snowflakes.” Eli handed her sax to Nico, who accepted it with a respectful bow, and then the blonde began to dance across the rooms, arms smoothly transitioning from first to second position as she spun to the pace of the waltz.

“If you like that, try Ellington’s.” Nico was drumming her fingers to the tune, watching Eli, but finally comfortable in casual conversation with Maki. “He just released a version for Christmas. Nico is a little sorry there’s no lyrics.”

Eli stopped, with a graceful curtsey, “Thank you, Maki. I needed that.”

“And now we need lunch.” Nico announced, “I packed sandwiches and a Thermos of coffee. You like sandwiches, right?”

Maki nodded, trying not to salivate. Breakfast had been burnt toast. She’d expected to be in Maine by now so she’d run through the meals prepared by the now vacationing chef and been forced to rummage in the pantry.

Eli perched on the windowsill, loosening her ponytail, “Nico is the best cook. Nozomi and I are spoiled when she has the time.”

“Nico looks forward to not spending hours hustling drinks when this Tsubasa deal goes through.” Nico handed Maki a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, “Ham and cheese, okay?”

“Sounds great.”

Maki bit in, savoring the warmth of the clove that had spread through the ham and the slight tang of mustard where the sharpness of the cheese met the airiness of the bread. The Nishikino chef could take notes. "This is delicious.”

Nico gleamed at the praise, eyes sparkling.

###

Maki went back to the piano slowly, reluctant to touch the instrument for the first time in her memory. Nothing musical Maki had done on purpose had worked yet and she did not want to be responsible for dispelling the air of camaraderie lingering in the room. Nico had been to the piano first, pulling the "Silver Bells" music off the stand, staring at it for a minute like she was going to tear it into pieces.

“What do you want to try, Nico?” Post break, Eli sounded much cheerier.

Nico was sorting through sheets of music, “"White Christmas""? Kinda slow, but maybe that’ll help us.” Nico offered pages to Maki, “Unless there’s something else you’re interested in?”

Maki slid into the bench, near enough to Nico that they were leaning over the music together.

“What do you think, Maki?”

Maki propped the music on the stand. “"White" Christmas it is. We are supposed to get snow sometime, so might as well get ready.”

“Harasho!” Eli blew a herald’s greeting on her sax.

Maki glanced up at Nico, who shook her head, “Winter weather brings out her Russian blood.”

And a "White Christmas" began.

###

Things were going marginally better than ‘Silver Bells.’ Nico was working on a system where she touched her hair or her ear for Maki to get ready to go back to accompaniment. Maki almost had the knack of it, but she found herself thinking that her playing clunked, her fingers were too timid, not leading. But Nico didn’t want her to lead, Nico wanted her to respond, or just support. But the music in front of her wanted her to play it as written, although both Nico and Eli had scribbled notes about altered chords above the bars holding the traditional melody.

Just as Maki thought they were going to make it through once without a stern tap on the piano from Nico, the door flew open and Nozomi strolled in, carrying her trumpet case, white coat over one arm, pretty satin black swing dress glinting like patent leather.

“Hello, ladies. How’s the harmony?”

Eli played a few bars of “Let It Snow” as Nozomi’s hand found the saxophonist’s waist to pull her in for a kiss on the cheek. Eli’s tune got even more playful; Maki envied Eli’s ability to translate her mood so instantly into music.

Then Nozomi’s attention turned to her, so Maki concentrated on the music in front of her.

“NICO-CHI!” Nozomi sounded upset with Nico. Maki looked up, but Nozomi was heading straight for her. Maki pushed the piano bench back, arms in a protective posture, not sure what to do as Nico and Eli both seemed confused. “No wonder things aren’t going well. This...” Nozomi grabbed the music off the holder, “is not how we learn.” Nozomi bent over, face too too close to Maki’s, green eyes searching for agreement, her hand heavy on Maki’s shoulder. Maki fought the urge to shake it off. “I’m sorry they did this to you, Maki. I won’t let them do it again.”

“What...what...what’s going on?” Maki was starting to panic. Why was there all this drama about Christmas music in her life suddenly? Christmas music should be a way to herald in harmony, kindness, and Santa, pleasant instrumental exercises in shared cultural traditions, and yet, Nozomi was literally in her face, making music in potentia, on the page, seem like a murder weapon.

Nozomi was pulled away from Maki, tossed back to where Eli caught her before she could stumble. Nico, looking tired again, didn’t bother to glance in Maki’s direction, just turning to confront Nozomi, “She’s not ready for…”

“She’s a classically trained musician, Nico. And a good one, if the rumors in the halls are right. You should give her a chance. This...” Nozomi raised a sheet of music she’d retained, holding it by one corner as if it had been dragged through a storm water runoff drain, “is an insult.”

Insult? Maki stood up. What hadn’t Nico or Eli told her? Was there another way?

Eli put her sax to the side, “We don’t have the time, sugar.”

“No.” Nico voice had dropped, like the sash when a window was slammed shut. “And she isn’t picking up on…”

“MAKI!” Temper, lost, “MAKI isn’t picking up on…” vocal fury dwindled as Maki actually heard what she was quoting.

“See.” Nico sounded kinder, tapping her temple, eyes slanting in Maki’s direction, “there’s a delay up there. It’ll kill us.”

“Yeah.” Eli’s agreement was somber, dragged out. Nozomi actually paused, brow wrinkled.

Maki grabbed Nozomi, dragging her out of the room, “Tell me…” a pause as Nozomi focused on her, “what you’re talking about.”

Nozomi’s hands were together, palms touching, in front of her mouth, as she thought. Speaking, she shook them at Maki, “If you don’t learn the music by ear, you’ll never keep up.”

Maki was processing, considering performance versus practice, how a piece by Saint-Saëns looked on paper compared to how it flowed through her fingers, what altered between reading a piece and hearing it.

“Maki?” Nozomi prodded, gently. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Maki could hear Nico grumbling on the other side of the door, but she had her weight against it and the doorknob stopped between her hands. Nico wasn’t getting through unless Eli helped her and Maki would have bet that Eli was back at the window, babying her sax.

“I think so.”

“But can you feel it?” Nozomi sighed.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes on the music alter how you think, your ears stop working as well as they could.”

“No, they don’t.” Maki’s denial was instant.

“Really? Have you ever even considered it might before?”

Maki was suddenly fascinated by the wear on the floor.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Why don’t you play with them?” Maki counterthrust.

Nico had gotten to cursing as the door bounced a little back and forth in Maki’s hands. Maki was still smirking with amusement, but If Nico didn’t give up soon, Maki was going to have to let go. No sense in risking fatigue damage to her hands.

Nozomi giggled, “Eli loves performing; I love watching her perform. She and Nico have amazing chemistry. A trumpet just doesn’t fit their sound. And Eli just adores…” Nozomi paused as Nico could be heard…

“Let me out you snobby stupid ass.”

“That midget gremlin.” Nozomi practically cooed while speaking with enough volume that Nico could hear over her struggles.

Maki snorted as Nozomi smiled angelically and Nico continued finding insults that built off snob.

“You heard me, super snooty...arrrgghh.”

“Try listening. You can always go back to the page if you need.”

Maki nodded, then let go of the door knob at the same time as she stepped to the side, to watch Nico come stumbling out in the hall, “what the...are you TRYING TO DAMAGE NICO.”

Nozomi softened Nico’s potential head injury as the singer rammed into breast not corridor wall. Before Nozomi could say anything, Maki went back into the room, Nico pivoting immediately, rushing to keep up, ignoring Nozomi. Maki stood, waiting for Nico to catch up, and met Nico’s glance, stunned by all the reactions twisting like threads of crimson, hope, worry, suspicion, frustration, hesitation.

“I can do "Silent Night" from memory. Let’s start there.”

“Oh good, it’s a holy jam. Nico’ll need a different dress. And a veil.”

Eli snorted. Maki wondered exactly what about Nico’s dress made it inappropriate for religious carols.

###

Infuriating. It was infuriating that Maki couldn’t stop her piano playing from running away from her intentions and running over Nico’s vocals, unable to keep an even tempo. It was infuriating how Eli had taken to sitting next to Maki on the piano bench, and nudging when a solo was about to start or finish. It was infuriating that after the first ten times when Nico stopped to glare enough that Maki could feel her fight or curl up in a ball response kick in, that pity began to dilute the rage in Nico’s eyes. And when Eli stood up and called the session, after Maki had somehow stabbed "Silent Night" with chords stolen straight from "A Night On Bald Mountain", Maki just kept ripping into the holiday solemnity, ferociously pounding keys. Nico and Eli let her play it out, Eli putting away her sax, Nico taking a drink of water and silently watching the seemingly possessed redhead.

Maki stopped, panting into the silence, the torrent and torment of the notes she’d just played still reverberating everywhere. She hung her head over the keyboard, hair falling in front of her eyes, sweat dripping, heart pounding. No one said anything and then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and the vibrations stilled.

“We’ll figure it out, Maki.” Nico squeezed. Maki, suddenly tired, let her head fall to the side, until it collided with Nico’s forearm, “Take it easy.”

Maki shook her head. No taking it easy, She was going to figure this out. If it took until her fingers bled.

A/N: Clothes from the 50's, music from the early 60's, Nico and Maki being timeless Nico and Maki..cheers.

[thesporadicstoryteller-blog]

Tranquility

A Kuroshitsuji fanfiction, inspired by the following prompt: Ciel Phantomhive is a world-renowned actor, flitting from set to set, hounded incessantly by paparazzi. Searching for a moment of quiet while visiting London, he stumbles into Sebastian Michaelis’ unassuming tea shop. https://kuro-prompts.tumblr.com/post/161039212724/prompt-notting-hill-au

With a click, the door closed behind him, seemingly shutting out the entire world’s hustle and bustle. Quiet silence enveloped him, something he did not think possible in the city that London had become over the years. Not that he had seen much of his hometown over the last year, his schedule stuffed full of mostly American cities he had to travel to. However, it did not seem to differ much from other’s in his opinion, its British charm had never quite gotten to Ciel though he did enjoy, as much as he could phrase it that way, the people more than the Americans by far. Those usually were way too touchy-feely with ‘such a cute youth as him’ by giving him hugs as a greeting or touching him while conversing, constantly being too loud while talking to him and generally behaving in a manner nauseating to him. Of course, not every one of them, but the actor was still pleased to take a little vacation here in England. Not that his holiday destination proved much better right now. The nostalgia had put a little layer of mist over his mind because going to London was probably not the best idea if you wanted some much needed tranquillity. Plus, some idiot apparently had had a slip of tongue and his dear fellowship of paparazzi grew aware of where he was going. Simply wonderful. Ciel was even less than delighted now as he had to outright flee to get away, which was most unbecoming in his opinion. However, here he was. In midst of London City, now with silence droning in his ears. That was unexpected. Very welcome indeed, but not what he’d thought he’d get when he barged into this small shop somewhere in one of the less popular back alleys (if he was honest he hadn’t had the slightest clue where he was exactly, but the Internet would probably fix that problem for him later on). Apparently, the actor had stepped in a parallel dimension: the shop was tiny, stuffed full of shelves that had immaculately stacked boxes of tea leaves in them and that seemed to cover most of the space on the room’s walls. In here, it smelt like thousand different things at once, flavours reaching from vanilla, over hibiscus to an assortment of berries and winter spices, but somehow it did not get him to sneeze or be overwhelmed, it just made it feel… homey, as if he stuck his head into all nice memories of tea he’d ever had. The room was decorated in a fashion that seemed ancient as well as timeless (however that worked, but it worked very well), all dark furniture – rosewood or ebony maybe –, tables on which a single glass vase had been placed holding seasonal flower arrangements, comfy looking cushions in a dark, velvety red adorned with golden ornaments and a recamier next to the window looking over a tiny garden area that seemed to be skilfully tended to and also held another two tables. Except him, the shop was empty. Ciel blinked a few times to take everything in, before he heard the shrieking of an old kettle going off and he snapped out of his trance. A grinning smile met him. His eyes shot wide open. Two of a most extraordinary colour stared right back at him. How did that man even do that, just appear out of thin air? Ciel could’ve sworn a few seconds prior he… “You’ve been staring into nothing for the last five minutes.”, his opposite chuckled. “I thought you could use some tea, so I heated up some water.” The youth quickly regained his posture, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes, trying to look less like some sort of psycho. “Thank you.”, he answered after a short pause in which he cleared his throat. “Oh, don’t worry. As you see, I’ve not really got a full house today.” It was not like him to not know what to say, but that’s exactly what was the case now. He just took a seat on one of the plush chairs and looked at the apparent shop owner. That he did not recognise him was impressive, even here in England he’d been printed in magazines and been on TV, but that man did not seem to have any regard for who he was or conveyed any impression of even knowing that he was more than some very creepy kid that just stormed into his shop, looking around for minutes in total silence. If he had not been so embarrassed, he would have run away again by now, making that the second time today. “So,” darn, how did that guy always manage to startle him, “What brings you here?”, the man inquired with a smile that somehow sent the chills down his spine, even if it was nothing less than friendliness that was portrayed on his face. “Usually, one does not get customers right before closing time, you know?” Ciel hadn’t even thought about that. It was four minutes short of 6 o’clock now – which would probably be the recently mentioned closing time -, but a cup of steaming tea was still placed before him on a black saucer with white swirls; cream on hot chocolate fudge cake. “I’m sorry.” “And I’m Sebastian.”, the other grinned right back at him. Sebastian, huh. He seemed like a peculiar fella, all dressed in sleek black with the exception of a red tie that had an uncanny resemblance to his eyes; if he wore contact lenses, Ciel wondered, or maybe it was just the light playing tricks on him. However, he could not help but note what a good-looking man he was, all sharp lines and symmetrical features, black hair that fell into his eyes in a perfectly styled manner; he truly looked like quite the lady charmer. “Usually people would tell you their name after you told them yours.”, Sebastian continued their barely existing conversation. “But you haven’t been most people since you came in, so I probably should not wonder.” “I’m Ciel.”, the younger one told him, ears flushing. Maybe the running combined with the smells in here had messed with his head. His usually rather eloquent self had been reduced to a stammering fool. Perfect. He quickly took a sip of his tea to spare him from any nonsensical retort of his. All the while, Sebastian waited patiently, fingers crossed like in half-hearted prayer in front of his stomach, smile still in its place. He quickly averted his attention to his drink, which truly was formidable; perfectly brewed so that the aroma came out in exactly the right way, bergamot hovering directly under his nose. He had to admit, he was quite impressed and soon took another sip, the liquid soothing his tense nerves until his shoulders relaxed slightly, back slumping into the cushion. “So, Ciel.”, Sebastian hummed, taking a seat on the armrest of the opposite chair, legs crossed at the ankles. “Will you tell me now, how you got here? Usually, my place isn’t found all that often by people like you.” “People like me?” Maybe he did know who he was after all. “People under 60 that storm into my shop looking like they just ran a marathon, being very confused at that.” His eyes narrowed a bit. What should he make of that? Of course, he had been out of breath! But he felt as if that topic should be a closed chapter by now. Or did this guy usually embarrass his customers like that? Just as he opened his mouth to tell this insolent idiot exactly what he thought, Sebastian added: “Or people quite that good-looking, if I may say so.” That quickly shut him up again and Ciel closed his mouth like a fish taking his last breath. The raven-haired man however just laughed at his baffled expression. “So, do you want to answer my question or would you prefer that I continue this monologue for the time being?” “Well.” Another contemplative sip of tea. “Basically, I just wanted to get away from the city.” “Seems as if you failed miserably at that. London is right outside these doors, you know.”, Sebastian hummed and the young man nodded. “Yes. But it is not in here, is it?” “Indeed, it is not.”, a smile growing broader. Apparently, his answer had pleased the man and for some unknown reason, that pleased him. “However, what would you consider is ‘in here’, Ciel?” He answered him after two more sips and at the same moment he decided he had to visit Sebastian again. “Tranquillity.”