#things ought to get a bit easier after the move at least! :D

[sensitiveheartless]

hi. don't know if you'll get to read this, but I hope you're okay. your last post was about your hands, so hopefully they're fine, and you are healthy overall.

I do miss your writings and drawings, they are very comforting, but! and this is a big BUT! you need to take a break when you need it.

sorry if this is kinda pushy, that is not my intention at all. <3 for you health!

Hello! Oh my gosh this is very sweet akdsfjksfjksdf I really appreciate it! Sorry about the slight radio silence, I kept meaning to make an update and then getting distracted before I could finish it, so this is actually a great opportunity to finally do that update, thank you anon!

The current situation is that my whole household is moving this month, which overall is going to be a very good thing (my current living situation has a few problems) but it also means I am currently drowning in book boxes XD My hands are doing relatively okay, but moving tons of books is definitely hard on them (plus I have a different chronic health issue unrelated to my hands which has been making me extremely exhausted skfjkdfs). In short, I'm doing my best not to fuck up my hands and health too badly, so I've slowed down on a lot of things; I am still drawing every day, and making progress on fics, but it's slow, and I'm haven't been sure if people want to see WIP scribbles and writings on here.

^ For example, most of my art efforts have been like these sketches recently lol

Ah, a bit of positive news though! I managed to finish a very self indulgent comic today! >:D So I'll be posting that soon.

Thank you for the well wishes, and I hope you're having a good day today, anon! I will be posting when I can (and if people don't mind them being rather unpolished, I can post scribbles which would be more frequent lol)

[kylerkanw828-blog]

What Hollywood Can Teach Us About uk ceramics

What is up, men? I'm Sam Pottery. Invite to the studio. We have an incredibly amazing video clip for you today. We're speaking about my ten vital tools in the workshop. Yep, I walked around. I went to the studio. I'm in the studio today. Furthermore, I walked around, as well as I took the tools that I think I enjoy the most that I utilize the most that are the most important to my everyday success in the studio, so I want to share with you, I have the 10 things but first off.

I've been using this for at least a year currently, as well as if a man makes it one more Potter, his name is Old Forge developments on Instagram, and also he's from the United Kingdom, and he makes these, and he sells them on his website. You can acquire them. What it is a device for creating a foot on your pots while you're tossing, so you can either choose to not cut it after, or you require marginal trimming, but it's a foot completing device that saves a ton of time, as well as it looks immaculate, oh the various other point I like concerning it is it functions well as a drip catcher, so you can see http://beaunvwm566.trexgame.net/the-most-innovative-things-happening-with-earthenware-uk this is an excellent example of a time when if that little trim in there that I use.

this device would not have actually existed, or the glaze would certainly have torn right off, so that's primary, thanks to old woodland productions for such a superb device number two my fundamentals, so these are the two sponges that I throw with one of the most, so the reason I have two sponges I like this mud tool sponges this is like a synthetic it's soft, and also it grooves outstanding for keeping in my hand like if you ever before see me throw this is what I have in my hand while I'm tossing this set is to take in water, so this one is a terrific throwing sponge, but it does not take in water effectively

so I utilize this sponge while I'm throwing to stockpile any type of water reaches elope, so there ought to be a link to a number of these devices as well as these mud tool sponges in the description of the video clip trial, so throwing sponges vital number three is an additional tossing tool that I use a heap I enjoy this steel rib likewise referred to as the steel rib of death if you are a potter, and you've never obtained cut by among these then look out due to the fact that they are sharp, as well as they will certainly leave a mark, however I especially like the shape of this one possibly seeing various other metal devices where it's just a more rounded, and also it does have a straight side but this I desire this tool it's terrific for producing a shape similar to this

so I utilize the straight edge as I increase similar to this, and after that I'll turn it around and utilize this edge to produce that indent right there this metal device, and I do not really recognize I got this from a lady that I acquired a number of her old pottery stuff from, and also I just began using it and I liked it far better than those various other regular metal ribs, to make sure that is it that's number three the steel rib of life and death fine number 4 as well as number five they fit okay, so you've heard me chat perhaps or see me use this trim tool on the wheel, so this is my favorite trimming device from an additional item from mud devices

you can use either side you can utilize this side for trimming like sort of level surface areas, and afterwards this side works actually well to trim in as well as get a lot of clay out at one time and so the other number five that goes with this is this cutting spinner so if you were educated to Facility the item out when you're cutting it you possibly put little pieces of clay around it to keep in the center and also I do not actually do that any longer at all I just utilize this cutting spinner so generally what you do is you simply put it on top of the pot you put your finger in there, and it helps to spread the weight like if you just put your finger there then you can make an indent it simply does not function that well so a BEST assists disperse the weight to make sure that you can have the trimming rewriter on their after that you utilize your trim tool to spin

if you want to try a little hack for you if you want to try out this approach, as well as you don't want to get this trimming rewriter, yet you can use a cap try using a lid from a container just put it on there and utilize this, and also we'll spin around, to make sure that's number four as well as give thanks mod tools' thanks diamond core tools I intended to share with you people that we have an Etsy restock turning up March 9th at 6 p.m. so we have over 100 possibly more like 120 pots rising, so it'll be our biggest restocking, yet I know I state that every time, yet they maintain obtaining more substantial lots of great stuff gold stickers

Minnesota mugs tons of slow-moving great fire micro-crystal it's going to be exciting so check out the following FC restock if you intend to get a John the Potter pot I 'd significantly value it adhering to one number six a paint scrape, or I don't know what you call this but this you decrease to your local hardware shop as well as get a four buck among these I like these for taking clay whenever I throw on bats, and after that you take them off

I utilized to such as when I remained in my old studio, and also I was extremely unpleasant at all times as well as there was clay everywhere, and it was a mess I used to leave the little items of clay on the bat after I would throw them, and we're going to speak about baths in just a second, now I like to take all the spots off the bat and also I perfect away scrape up all the clay it's so much easier it's so much better so paint scrape you can also utilize these similarly that you make use of the metal rib of death it's just a bit much more solid it does not versatile, yet you can use it on the side of pots as well

Really helpful in the studio as well as not expensive at all right miss number six all ideal going along with paint scrape bats we're going to speak regarding bats I enjoy making use of bats for a variety of reasons I have actually tossed off the bulge and I have thrown like where you you recognize you throw it, and also after that you take a cable tool, and you relocate it I have actually done that, yet I keep coming back to bats, so these are the baths that I have actually been making use of for a couple of years now they are from continental clay I like the square shape of them due to the fact that a whole lot of what I toss is smaller sized pieces that fit right in the middle of there and also these include you can do so many of these onto like a're bored

I have these where boards that are on my racks over there, and I can fit ten of these across where if I had huge circle bats like this you can only do like 3 or four, so I enjoy the form of this, so these bats are from Connell clay they're made of like a composite wood as well as I have a brand-new bat system that I am incredibly delighted concerning that I want to share with you guys it's this Russian doll bat system from Hartley as well as Noble, so they sent me this Hartley Noble is a firm in I believe they're in Europe, or they're in the UK somewhere, and also they are a husband-and-wife team that makes these, and also it's like such a genius idea, so you have this, and also you have items that can fit inside this, so you simply have to put this on the wheel once, and also after that you can place leftovers in like that, or you can place this item in, as well as after that you can place smaller ones, so after that you can fit even much more it's all regarding space-saving so if you have a smaller workshop, and you're kind of regularly stressed regarding like we're going to put stuff like this is a fantastic space-saving device for tossing incredibly little stuff

I have all I had this for a few months or not a couple of months a few weeks probably, and also I have actually tried it out it's actually great I additionally truly like the both the Continental clay bat and also this bat system are not constructed from like a non-porous surface this is a porous surface area so if points dry much more equally on them since the water can obtain taken in by both this and continental clay bats also, so I like those composite MDF like timber bats much better opposed to the plastic ones which I utilized to utilize all the time okay bats it's not number 7 there's number 6 I can not bear in mind these things are the diamond core tools grinding discs so these I have 3 of them I have a program I have a medium and a penalty and I end up utilizing the tool a lot so if you're simply mosting likely to purchase one then hope that's not the tool this's a medium so primarily what this is it comes such as this, and afterwards it has a glue back

so you have to utilize a bat to put the pad on, however then you stick it on your wheel and also as soon as your pot appears of the kiln if it does not sit flat like if you put it on the counter, and also it resembles wobbling a little you just throw this on your wheel beginning rotating it and afterwards put a little thin down, as well as it goes as well as grinds it flawlessly level I have actually essentially conserved hundreds as well as numerous pots with these grinding pads I do I like them, so they can get they obtain glazed off truly promptly, yet they additionally just ensure that their bases are flat so ruby core tools it's an outstanding product basically each time right before I send pots that have actually sold for the Etsy replenishes I will certainly experience as well as see to it if any one of them wobble then I toss them right on the precisely the wheel exactly on the grinding disc, and afterwards they're all excellent all right so at number 8 I believe we have two more, so I lately did a whole video about these killed shelves since they are blowing my mind how much I enjoy them they are so incredible

so they're lighter they're thinner they're all that things you understand it's excellent however the most effective aspect of them is that polish drips I needed to go get this pot when polished swindle a pot, so these were this is a recent pot that I just unloaded from the kiln as well as I kept the bottom, so I can show you men so before when a polish would drip off a pot onto a kiln shelf glaze drip right there, and I 'd be like oh yes after that I would certainly lift it up, as well as it would break, and also it would be all glossy there would certainly be polish throughout on the kiln shelf and afterwards the bottom of the pot would be messed up, as well as it was simply a mess right so actually currently when you obtain a glaze drip like this you look down there, and you straight draw I'm saying literally way too much someone quits me the literal police you look in there you see the glaze trickles the pot comes straight off it do you do not have to pull it off and also the bottom appear like this and after that all you have to do is simply use among those ruby grinding pads, and also you can simply grind that right down, so it's flawlessly level compared to the option where you need to like be scraping it off and after that scratching it off the kiln rack.

We're talking about my 10 important tools in the workshop. I strolled about, and also I took the tools that I believe I enjoy the most that I utilize the most that are the most essential to my day-to-day success in the studio, so I want to share with you, I have the 10 things but initially off.

I have actually been using this for at the very least a year now, and also if a guy makes it an additional Potter, his name is Old Forge productions on Instagram, and he's from the United Kingdom, and he makes these, as well as he markets them on his web site. What it is a tool for developing a foot on your pots while you're tossing, so you can either pick to not cut it after, or you require minimal cutting, yet it's a foot completing tool that conserves a load of time, and it looks spotless, oh the various other point I love concerning it is it works well as a drip catcher, so you can see this is an exceptional example of a time when if that little trim in there that I use.

[magpiemorality]

Are We Into It?! pt.7

Sometimes fixing old hurts brings them back.

Warnings for this chapter: Blood, injury, fighting. Described but not serious.

First | Previous 

***

It was never going to be half as easy as that. Very much a case of easier said than done...

Remus and Roman started arguing again so fast Patton nearly dived for cover, and no one- least of all them- even knew what they were howling at each other but the weapons came out and that was far enough.

Logan threw himself to wrestle the sword from Roman as Deceit grabbed Remus by the face and tried to quickly talk him down, petting his anger-flushed cheek to soothe him.

"This won't work," Virgil hissed from the bed, curled back up like a frightened hedgehog. "We're never going to just talk things through!"

"We already have!" Logan protested. "You and I have discussed and I rightly apologised. And Deceit-" Deceit looked up from Remus with a raised eyebrow. "I think the willingness to try counts for a lot."

Virgil snorted, and not nicely. "Sure. And Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee are so willing to sort out their issues..."

The silence fell so suddenly over the room that Deceit had to try and subtly pop his ears to double check he could still hear. It was broken by a little sniff from Patton, clearly already overwhelmed. Deceit felt a rush of anger towards him. Why did he  get to be overwhelmed and sorry and have that be it? Why didn't he have a splitting headache and have to grit his teeth and push on through every crisis they'd ever had? He was probably only here to be absolved of all his sins so he could go on living his pretty perfect Patton life, and he ought to be the one with his head split into two perfect pieces-

He let go of Remus abruptly, looking at him sharply in betrayal. "You mojoed me!" Remus looked faintly ashamed but didn't deny it, raising his chin. "You-" Deceit couldn't stop blinking. His eyes hurt, maybe they were too dry in the hotel room air or something, so he rubbed them and it got worse, matching the increasing weight in his chest.

"I just wanted you to let go, Dee..." Remus mumbled. Deceit stood up. "Dee?"

"You and Roman are going somewhere else and you two can fight each other to the damn death until one of you emerges victorious or you sort your shit out, for all I care!" He shouted, hands balling into fists.

Remus did look ashamed then. "Dee I'm so-"

"Don't! Don't say that. Just go, please. Leave the grown ups here to sort the real issues out." It was hurtful, but it was meant to be. He turned away from Remus's stricken face, not watching as Logan took Roman aside and murmured to him. A new door opened up and Roman hurried through, followed by a more reticent Remus, who kept looking over his shoulder to see if Deceit would acknowledge him. He didn't.

Deceit sat back down heavily on the edge of the bed, gripping it tightly. "We should- we should get on with it. Who knows how long they'll be?" He muttered.

"Maybe we should talk about this first, kiddo-"

"I am not your kiddo, Patton," Deceit snapped. "Don't call me that."

Morality blinked, looking to Logan for help before acquiescing. "Oh-okay, Deceit. Sorry. Is there, um, anything else that you'd like u- me to change?"

Everything? The past, maybe? Deceit rubbed his hands over his eyes, leaving them there while he tried to organise his thoughts into something coherent. The sensation of weight dipping the mattress next to him caught him by surprise, and he uncovered an eye to see Virgil sitting next to him with a nervous expression, hand halfway out towards his shoulder. It paused there under the scrutiny, but Deceit swallowed down his bitter immediate response and nodded.

It felt nice, the warmth of anxiety leaving him and the small gesture of support from someone he'd thought he may have lost it from forever. It was just enough to topple the weight he'd been feeling and he sniffed.

Just once.

But once was all it took for the barriers to be overwhelmed by the flood building up behind them. He cried into Virgil's waiting arms, uncaring of who might be watching.

The door shut behind Remus and Roman with a definite thump, signalling the start of their mandated alone time. It was hard to feel the same burning anger and bitterness when he felt so damn guilty though. Dee had looked... heartbroken. Like Remus had taken the last of his hope from him somehow, and so when Roman's sword came towards his head he didn't move but waited. Maybe being beheaded would be fun and he could just pretend to be the headless horseman and the cheshire cat all at once? Maybe it wouldn't work and he'd turn out like Nearly Headless Nick, which was even cooler...

But Roman stopped in time, scowling at his estranged twin. "Why aren't you fighting back?!" He demanded. "You wanted this! You wanted to pick a damn fight and now here we are. So fight!"

"Ugh, you're so dramatic. And honourable. Why are you so damn honourable?" Remus scowled right back at him.

"Uh, I don't know, probably because I got all the goodness?" Roman taunted him. "And you don't even try not to be stinky and gross and a monster, so you can't talk!"

There was a clang when the morning star hit the sword, only just blocked by Roman as Remus swung at him out of the blue, face twisted. "I don't try?! I tried every day for years! I tried to be different, to be good! To be allowed to come back! I even tried to join back with you, to split again, but there's not anything left in me that's not bad so I couldn't!" He shouted, forcing Roman back and back and back with heavy swings of his weapon, ringing out on the strong but significantly more delicate katana Roman wielded. "I can't be different."

The morning star dropped just as Roman swung and Remus closed his eyes, waiting for the glorious wet thunk of impact against his side.

Somehow Roman managed to pull the blow at the last second, enough that even with momentum it only grazed a hot, thin line at an angle crossing his chest, cutting through his clothes and leaving a pink mark that darkened rapidly as it began to bleed. Remus cackled, wiping his finger through it and dropping to his knees in triumph. At last! Roman had been the one to hurt him! He wasn't perfect after all!

The laughter startled Roman out of his haze, frozen by the captivating sight of the injury. He jumped forwards, dropping his sword and pressing his hand to the wound. It was shallow and not bleeding too heavily, but he still only ended up with red on his hands, hands that Remus caught by the wrists and twisted to show to him with a blissful smile as Roman tried to breathe. "Look, we're not so different." Remus whispered, a single inky black tear rolling down from pure joy. He let go of Roman's hands to press his own to them, palm to palm, their fingers matching perfectly. "We're not so different-"

Roman threw himself backwards, glaring at Remus hotly. He nearly ran a hand over his face before he remembered, conjuring a cloth to quickly scrub the blood off and not looking at his brother. "We are not the same. You want to hurt me because it makes you feel good. I just want to stop you. And that was an accident- you wanted to be hit!"

"And you still did it! You can't-"

"I am not like you! I am better and kinder and good!"

Remus finally fell quiet, the manic energy fading. He stood up, waving a hand to repair his clothes, even though the dark stain could be seen through them. "There's no point to this, is there," he said quietly. "When they broke us they really broke us. You know, I often wonder if I'm even Creativity anymore. Maybe we were always more and then you got all that, and I got... something else. Meanness, probably. Ugliness, inside. Maybe I really could be Duke of Trash..."

"Stop trying to get me to pity you!" Roman yelled, throwing the cloth. "I don't!"

"Oh that is abundantly clear, thank you," Remus hissed.

Roman fought the childish urge to stick out his tongue. "I want to go home. And I want everything to go back to normal. I don't like this. I don't like feeling bad like this."

"Guilt, such a fu-"

"No, bad. Like I'm the bad guy." That caught Remus's attention and he turned around to look at his brother. "I made people hurt and I didn't mean to. I make you hurt and I say these things and I- I'm not supposed to be like this, Remus! I'm supposed to be the good guy!" He hid his face in his knees.

Remus sighed and sat down where he was, keeping some distance between them. "I'm supposed to be the bad guy. But I hurt someone... and I didn't mean to do that either. That's not the kind of bad guy I want to be. I just want- Roman I just want to do my job. I want Thomas to be amazing and free and wildly passionate about everything. I don't want him to be scared of anything. And I don't want to be bad because I do that. I think it's the same for D- for Dee."

"But that's the opposite of what Patton and Virgil want, and what Logan would say is good!"

Remus snorted, clicking his fingers so an extra large pair of glasses appeared on his face. "And Logan would say something silly like," he affected a serious voice, "'Homo Sapiens are supposed to function in a balance in all aspects of life with a conscious effort towards shades of grey thinking'. Or would it be 50 shades of grey thinking..."

Without thinking Roman giggled. He clapped a hand over his mouth quickly to hide it but the damage was done. "I don't think that's what it should be. Patton would pitch a fit if Thomas started thinking like that..."

"Oh I know, wouldn't it be hilarious?" Remus grinned. His smile fell. "But... I don't want you to feel like the bad guy either, okay Ro? It's not a nice way to feel. Not that kind of bad, anyway. But can you... maybe stop making me feel that way too?" Roman groaned. "I know, it's not easy. But can't we just... duel it out when we need to instead of being really actually mean?"

"It would be better for Thomas..." Roman said slowly. "We could try it out a bit? Have a temporary bad guy-good guy team up to defeat the worst villain of all... um... uh..." He struggled to think of what that might be and Remus rolled his eyes.

"The Dragon Witch still around?"

"Oh yes! The Dragon Witch! We'll stay teamed up until then. And you can be the... antihero. Maybe. If that works."

Remus didn't go to hug his brother but it was a strong impulse. He did offer his hand though, and they stood up, the room fading out as they walked to the door. "You think they're done in there?"

"There's only one way to find out."

– Next

[evans-maxed-out]

The Weight Of Our Sins-Samcedes

Who: Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans

Where: School Library

When: February 2010

Notes: Mercedes has some life-changing new to tell Sam..

Sam: It had taken weeks for him to be back in the same room with her-not his choice of course but pretty much because she'd avoided him since that night when all their inhibitions had been thrown out of the window, owing in no small part to the amount of drink they'd both consumed. His memories of that night were slightly hazy but what did seem stuck on a loop inside his head was the breathy cry of his name she had uttered as he had slid instead her for the first time. He was taking this slow, no need to spook her, but he had a goal in mind- them both together, dating, everything out in the open and on an even keel. He pushed the paper back towards her and hummed noncommittally before looking across at her. "The future? I guess.." he shrugged, the only real interest he had in the future was where he was going to take her for their first date, after he'd gotten her to agree of course.

Mercedes: “Yes, the future.” She replied slowly looking over the answers he had given on the practice quiz. Her head full of thoughts she tried so hard to will away. Would he feel trapped? Would he yell, would he hate her. Did he regret what they did the night of that party? The last one was louder than the rest cause she had asked herself that same exact thing over and over and the answer was always the same. No. Not for a second. For so long she had fought him about the type of relationship they had which was strictly associates, friends at best but they crossed that line and she loved it. Every second of it. Despite the fact that they both had way too much to drink she would get bits and pieces of that might back in tiny flashbacks and shortly after butterflies in the heart of her belly would come. Sometimes she could still feel his touch on her skin hot, wet kisses, from her neck all the way down to the spread of her thighs. She cleared her throat willing the visual away and granted Sam a small smile. “Good job. You only missed one. Maybe you’ll be that doctor after all.” She proved hoping for more entry to his thoughts.

Sam: "Maybe," he shrugged, uncertain for once of what the future held. Since he could remember he'd wanted to be like his father, a respected doctor, financially wealth and secure..but now? After one night with her...He knew she wanted to get out to LA as soon as she graduated high school..she wouldn't be sticking around and he'd be going to college to climb on the first rug of the ladder that would be his medical career..but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that maybe he ought to go with her..There were colleges in LA..and hell, being a doctor wasn't the be all and end all of everything right? His dad would be disappointed sure, but he'd followed Sam's mother across the country when she 'd left for college, so surely he'd understand right? No, he'd never understand-it wasn't like they were even dating-she wouldn't even give him five minutes of her time, as for allowing him to tag along with her to LA..he didn't stand a hope in hell's chance of convincing her to agree. "So what's with the questions? I thought you had your future all wrapped up in a neat bow?" he said, raising a blonde eyebrow at her.

Mercedes: “I was just curious is all.” She shrugged off the feeling that maybe she was annoying him with the talks of the future. “I do, or at least I thought I did. I don’t know recently I’ve been thinking about things and maybe now I want to change. It’s really hard to make it in the music industry and I can’t put all my eggs in one basket.” This was silly, she would just tell him and get it over with but she was nervous. She’s never really nervous. Maybe it was more fear than nerves. She didn’t want to be rejected. Not by him, but maybe she deserved it for all the times she rejected him. “Did you hear the rumor about Tina? About her possibly being pregnant?” She asked studying his face. “I bet she is scared. How would someone go about handling that type of thing at such a young age?”

Sam: “Wait...what? I thought your plan was to go out to LA?” he said, confused. “What would you do if you didn’t do that? Are you thinking of going to college?” His mind was racing, if she went to college, he needed to find out where...now that would be much easier..his dad would never need to know that his choice of where to go was based on where SHE was going. “Tina? Really..no I hadn’t heard that..” he replied, brow furrowing. “For sure, Mike has no idea...I think he would’ve said...D’ya know he’s taken up with Kitty Wilde? “ he shook his head, thinking about his friend. “I’m kinda hoping it’s some sort of rebound thing after breaking up with Tina and he’ll see the light..But pregnant? Wow..” He shifted in his chair, considering. “ Look..I know she’s your friend, but Mike’s a decent guy..so if that’s the case she needs to tell him..At least she won’t be handling it on her own..And honestly...they did the crime...so if there are consequences they need to be prepared to do the time..”

Mercedes: “It has always been my plan but things have changed to where I don’t know.” She could the words on the tip of her tongue yet every time she opened her mouth something different came out. “I doubt college is in the works, maybe. If I have the time.” Her eyes went wide and her jaw fell. “Mike dumped Tina for Kitty? Say what? Eww why? Kitty is the most valid soulless person I’ve ever met. At least Tina has a personality.” She was pleasantly surprised by his response half expecting him to call the situation reckless and irresponsible. Perhaps she was overreacting about letting him. “So would you do that? Step up. Be prepared to do whatever if you found out you’re going to be a dad? How would you go about it with being so close to starting your dreams?”

Sam: Ok, now he was officially confused. "Changed how? What could've changed that much that it would derail your plans?" he asked, bewildered. "If you have the time? What else are you gonna do?" There was definitely something up with her, no doubt about it, but he was in two minds whether to press any further, he knew how quickly she could shut down and he wanted to keep her talking for as long as possible. "Not exactly..He and Tina split and then he started dating Kitty. There was no cheating, Mike's not that kind of guy. Yeah..you're right about Kitty..she puts in me in mind of a deadly viper." He shrugged, considering her question. "Well what else is there to do..If i got a girl in trouble..then yeah..I guess I'd owe it to her and the kid to step up..The way I see it, as an adult, you have obligations..and there's no escaping some of them, so what good would acting out or running away do?" He leaned forward grabbing her hand. " I don't know..I'd have to cross that bridge when I came to it..But I'm not in that situation and there's no point borrowing trouble..Look..I get you're worried about Tina, Mercedes but asking me how I'd handle things isn't gonna help. This is Mike we're talking about and I can't say 100% how he'd react. Best thing Tina can do is tell him. Leastways, I can definitely tell you, that if it was me, I'd want to know, hands down."

Mercedes: Mercedes: WOW. He really seemed to be more level headed than she imagined. “It’s me.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap took a deep breath and looked back up again. “Tina isn’t pregnant. It’s me. I’m pregnant.” She stood nerves all of sudden coming back to her and began to pace. “I know this isn’t what you wanted nor expected but hell neither did I. We were careful. I mean weren’t we? I know we had been drinking and things are a little hazy but then I missed my period and I never miss my period and guess what? A baby. A freaking baby. I am freaking out. Are you freaking out? This is crazy. We are 17.” She continued pacing and ranting. “You have plans to be a doctor and me a singer and can we do that with a baby? I swear I didn’t try to trap you. I’m not that type of girl. This is crazy. I took test after test and they’re all positive...”

Sam: He sat, completely poleaxed, her words echoing in his ears..pregnant, she was pregnant, he’d knocked her up and fuck..fuck...He knew better than to ask if it was his- she wasn’t like that, there was no way it could be anyone else’s but his. “Shit..I don’t understand...I wore a condom...I might have been drunk but I remember that much...It is crazy..but ok..ok..don’t freak out..we need to think Cedes...Fuck my plans..” he stood moving around to drop down to his knees in front of her. “What about you? You’ve always wanted to be a big star..” He but his lip hard, struggling not to panic, knowing he needed to be strong for her. “ I know you wouldn’t do that, that’s not even in question...I’m just..oh fuck..I’m so sorry, Cedes...I got you pregnant...” Taking a deep breath he struggled for control. “ Ok..we need to think baby...we need to think..calmly..We have options..what do you want to do..” He forced the words past his lips, wincing as he looked at her face. “We could give it up for adoption..we could abort it...”

Mercedes: Oh boy, he was panicking just like she was. This was a hot mess. They were a hot mess. She watched as he kinda mimicked her flying off the rails routine and this actually calmed her. She shook her head at the boy kneeling in front her a slight bit of fear rising. He better not pull a ring from his pockets or anywhere else. She thought to herself. “Sam,” she reached out cupping his cheeks. “This isn’t all on you. We both were there when this baby was made. This is on us. I’ve had a days to think about things clearly. One, I know this is sudden. Two, I’m not doing adoption or abortion. I’m keeping it. If you don’t want to be apart of this, I understand. I can do it alone. I just wanted you to know. Lastly, This is your out. You can walk away right now and I swear I you won’t ever have to worry about me or this baby ever again.” She took her seat and waited for him to respond.

Sam: What? She was keeping it and she was giving him an out? Sam thought about his dad, how disappointed he’s be and the tiniest, most cowardly part of him wondered if he shouldn’t just grab the opportunity and run...Hell no. This was Mercedes, the girl he’d told one day that he was going to marry her, his long ago playmate and the girl he’d been trying so hard to connect with over the past couple of years. She had hopes and dreams- and she was going to give them all up to become a mom to HIS baby. He thought if her facing the wrath of her parents, the censure and whispers of their peers and shook his head. “You’re not doing this alone. No way. Like you said, this is on US. Not you, US. If you think I’m just gonna walk away, pretend like this has nothing to do with me then you’re crazy. Whichever way you look at it, I got you pregnant. You wanna keep it?” he asked, his hands rising to grip hers, fingers sliding through her smaller ones. A curious glow seemed to light his chest as he thought of her wanting to keep their baby. He realized with a jolt that yes, while abortion and adoption were both valid ways out of this situation, he would have struggled with either one of those outcomes. “ Then fine, we keep it. Emphasis on the WE, Cedes. I’m not going anywhere, so please don’t tell me that mess again. You have every right to demand everything from me for gig and the baby, don’t think you don’t, just like I have every right to stand by you and take care of you. I’m not leaving, and we’re gonna do this.” He disentangled one hand gently, moving it to rest on her stomach lightly. “It’s not what we would’ve chosen but we’ll deal.There’s no choice.”

Mercedes: He was stepping up, being responsible and she couldn’t help the feeling of relief that washed over her in that moment. She’d go about it alone if she had but she didn’t. Sam was different. She should’ve known he would stand by her side no matter what. Believe it or not he was someone she could always depend on even when they were little and ran about no worries or cares in the world. “I feel a lot silly now,” she admitted. “I’m sorry for avoiding you all this time I was just scared of how you would react to finding out.” She gave him a smile as he placed one hand on her stomach. “You’re right, we will deal but first we have to do something.” Her face serious as she spoke to him. “We have to tell our parents.”

[calleo-bricriu]

Just a short flight.

((Two different threads that, as usual, I spaced on cleaning up for a post. Some things added for clarity as it was a quick back and forth at a lot of points. Hello there @absintheabsence being so nice with not explaining how this type of flight worked then just shoving Calleo out the window. :D ))

This letter is, of course, in the form of a little bird that flies around the room several times before shifting into a question mark and hanging itself obnoxiously in front of Gellert’s face.

It’s smacked aside, but not unkindly. “Silly bird.”

“Don’t want to go flying in the snow, hm?” Calleo pulled himself up to kneel on the couch, draping his arms over the back of it to wait for an answer.

“Queerly enough, I hadn’t caught that meaning at all. I worried you had been enquiring after such dangerous territory as my mental state.” He’s already flicking the window open. Grindelwald clucked his tongue at the wolpertinger that raises his head, sleepily, from one of his baskets. “No, little one, not for you.”

“Your mental state is as reasonably solid as mine is at any given time anyway,” He was at the window already as well, “One of these times, I ought to try it the way you do it just to see how it differs.”

“Knife or pin?” Right down to business.

​ “I’m in a knife mood." Calleo laughed far to brightly for the situation. "No particular reason beyond I’m less likely to drop it.”

“You assume much in thinking that I hadn’t at least toyed with the prospect of doing the honors myself- but ah well, that’s how we learn after all. Carefully, wait for the wind, three drops.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no," Calleo offered, "especially since I have no idea what I’m actually doing or what you specifically did the last time.”

“That pretty hand, then, if you please.” Gellert waited with as much patience as he ever had.

Calleo’s hand (still attached to the wrist and arm at least!) as handed over without hesitation.

Grindelwald’s bony fingers close tight around it for a moment with a strength that may have surprised anyone else before deeply pricking the pad of Calleo’s middle finger. The rich color welling up is almost brighter than the silver blade that now sees use nearly every day.

Better use for that thing than leaving it in a Ministry wall, hm?” Even if Calleo hadn’t known better than to whine about being lightly stabbed, it never really hurt that much anyway, though it always did seem to make the finger instinctively curl inward.

“And this trick is typically reserved for Dark Lords- we all find new purposes." “Tap gently against your thumb for each drop; the wind will carry them once it picks up again.” Snow is swirling into the cell now.

“I always wondered how they did that! It’s so–less horrible than I suppose everyone would imagine,” he gently tapped against his thumb for each drop and just…kind of stood there watching.

Grindelwald watched them fall into the mist and the spray of the sea far, far below them. Then he laid a tender hand on the center of his paramour’s back- and pushed.

Calleo’s first instinct was to shift into a form he knew could fly but, doing that would defeat the purpose of learning how to do it this way. It wouldn’t be right to say he was graceful but, at the very least, he didn’t slam face first into the ground and managed to gain some measure of control–at least enough to turn around grin up at the positively lovely man who had pushed him out the window. “Sweet of you to remember I learn best under immense pressure!” He called over the ever present howling wind and lighting--even if it was snowing, there was still lightning somehow.

Drifting gracefully down over him, the crash of the icy waves close enough to wet their heels, the old man chucks him under the chin. “Would you love me if I forgot such things?”

“This is definitely interesting. A bit easier to control as well but, in fairness, I don’t spend a lot of time as a bird.”

“And I would love you if you forgot such things, but I’d wonder how you forgot!”

“Oh, hey!” Calleo’s generalised curiosity about the flying shifted back to Gellert, and a slow, stupid grin spread across his face, “I know it’s a bit cold and all but exactly how much concentration does it take to not fall?”

“Queerly enough, I’ve never tested it.” Those hands are strong.

“Want to find out? Because I do.” Another borderline stupid grin. “Probably a totally inappropriate use if the ability to do this at all but where’s the fun in proper?”

“You’re incorrigible. Lead on, spirit; do your worst.”

“Well, maybe not my worst until I figure out if we’ll stay up here and not end up on the rocks. Or in the water.” Calleo squinted toward the ground, definitely not wanting to land on rocks just as a general rule.

“I can carry us both if you begin to fail.” Grindelwald’s statement was, for the most part, matter-of-fact. Possibly with a mild hint to hurry it up.

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll do my worst! This should be fun!” Calleo clapped his hands together before taking a minute to figure out how to actually move around reasonably well.

“Pay at least a touch of attention to the updrafts-“ And the rest is swearing, snatched away by the wind.

I can multitask.” Not strictly a verbal reply, but clear enough.

((And back inside the cell for the new thread--the technicality is that he only has to remain confined to Nurmengard, and they did not leave Nurmengard. Follow the letter of the law, not the spirit!))

"I just went through all of the motions of making coffee and forgot to add the actual coffee," Calleo grinned up at Gellert, "If there was ever a sign I needed coffee, that would be it."

“What would you like in it?”

“You mean apart from coffee I assume. Nothing really. Just black.”

“You’re getting a drop of something stronger to warm you up.” From the sound of it, Calleo didn’t have the option to say no there; he probably could have but, really, it was just alcohol.

“That’ll probably take more than a drop.” He got a sly little grin with that statement.

“Noted.”

“You know, that’ll probably be much nicer come Spring. Oh! Or even Summer or Autumn! Still, no complaints and now I know it’s a thing that’s possible!” Still grinning, "Really, it was great fun!"

“Mad little magpie." Grindelwald shook his head, "You haven’t even dried your hair yet; let me do it for you.”

“I’m not about to stop you; it takes ages to dry on its own. I still can’t believe that worked!”

“I still can’t believe I neglected to realize the real danger until it was- forgive me- a tad late.” A twist of his wand and Calleo is shrouded in hot steam for an instant, before suffering from an unfortunate case of puffiness.

"Well, nobody died or got injured--I look like a Puffskein!–and being a bit wet isn’t injured–so no harm done!”

“And you’re absolutely certain nothing harmful… escaped, shall we say.” Possibly a little tinge of paranoia in that statement.

“Yeah," Calleo shrugged almost dismissively up at Gellert, as though it should have been obvious, "I kept a little set of containment charms around the immediate area. Anything that hit them would have been–removed I guess. Or at least rendered inert and unidentifiable.”

“Mm.” He’s clearly pleased as he uncorks a bottle of something strong-smelling. “Shame on me for underestimating you. I should have known better.”

“I do like to think I’m familiar enough with you at this point to just know the sorts of little things that would bother you.” Calleo craned his neck a little, “What’s in the bottle then?”

“Extremely loosely- schnapps.” There’s a small conflagration in the cup as he pours.

“Stronger than that if it lights up just being poured!” Still, Calleo had to admit the idea of coffee mixed with something that exploded on contact with it was interesting, to say the least.

“It’s the closest in taste, at least." The cup was handed over. "Drink up.”

“This seems like an unnecessary and convenient excuse to get me drunk.” The statement is good natured enough and he does take the offered cup, “If it were schnapps I’d probably just take it as a shot since it’s not mixed with anything.”

“There’s drinking, my dear, and there’s medicine; this is the latter.”

“For what, exactly?” Regardless, he drank it anyway. “I’m pretty sure it’s a myth that you catch cold by being out in the cold–or by getting wet.”

[asterythm]

Born of the Same Impulse

Or; The Abolition of Man(a)

Pairing: Romantic LAMP Prompt: Written for Secret Sanders 2018 with the prompt “magic AUs (especially if someone doesn’t know about the others)” Word Count: 12.8k (oops.) Warnings: Very occasional caps lock, panic, negative thinking, food mention. (But don’t worry, the end is fluffy!!)

General Summary: When an experiment goes wrong, the wizard-slash-scientist Logan finds himself stranded in an alternate, magic-less dimension -- but the more he explores, the less anxious he is to find his way back home again.

A/N: @soft-transboy​ Surpriiise!! It’s me -- @secretsanders herself :D Hoo boy. I had so much fun writing this one, but... let's just say that I definitely bit off wayyyyy more than I could chew with this story (as you might be able to tell from the word count, which is well into the double digits). In fact, I spent so long planning this thing that I ended up being left with under a week to write it all. Meaning I finished this about ten minutes ago, and it’s completely unedited. Oops.  That said, I'm still super proud of how it came out, for the most part. Hopefully, you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

AO3

xxx 

“The serious magical endeavour and the serious scientific endeavour are twins: one was sickly and died, the other strong and throve. But they were twins. They were born of the same impulse.” — C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man

xxx

Logan Sanders does not believe in magic.

This perhaps will seem to most people like an illogical sort of statement, once they’ve taken into consideration the fact that Logan Sanders is a wizard.

Illogical or not, Logan’s mind is made up. Unlike Most People, Logan never has believed in magic. And he never will, either. It’s one of those beliefs that transcend tenses, you see — does not, did not, will not. Past, present, or future, the fact remains that magic is impractical at best.

Magic is real, of course. Logan can hardly deny the presence of magic in his everyday life, seeing as it’s damn near impossible to do anything without it, in this day and age. He’s not saying that magic doesn’t exist. Logan only means that, the way he sees it, magic on its own is completely and utterly useless. In fact, he’s quite certain that he’d be perfectly capable of surviving without relying on any magic at all, given the opportunity.

Life would be so much easier if more people just believed in science.

This is the second of many (many, many, many) seemingly illogical statements — at least, to Most People. Science? Most People scoff. Impossible! A fully automatic life reliant on science is a nice thought, but that’s all it will ever be — a nice thought. Science simply isn’t capable enough to accomplish all that magic does. Whoever this Logan fellow is, he ought to get his head out of the clouds and do some actual thinking. Blah, blah, blah. On and on and on.

Logan, of course, hates hearing Most People saying these things, but frankly he’s come to expect responses like that. He hears the same kind of thing almost every day, after all. It’s quite normal for Most People to doubt that science could ever be useful. And why even bother, really? Magic is perfectly fine as is.

But of course, the first thing you will notice about Logan Sanders is that he is most certainly not Most People.

xxx

Weekends, reflects Logan in between sips of hot tea, are the only part of the week ever worth paying any attention to.

For Logan, Saturdays and Sundays are the busiest days of the week — but they’re also far and away the best. Because rather than spending his hours working a boring day job, he’s hard at work inventing things that he’s passionate about. On weekends, Logan is free to play around with the concept of using science to enhance day-to-day magic. (Or perhaps the magic is enhancing the science? One or the other. Logan isn’t completely sure.) It’s been his favourite hobby for years and years, creating these little devices that make simple daily tasks even simpler by relying on science, rather than on magic.

Take, for example, Logan’s kettle. The one that he’d put away only moments before, after pouring himself a cup of tea. On the outside, it appears to be quite unremarkable. But Logan can assure you that this kettle is anything but. It’s a one-of-a-kind design that Logan invented himself, many moons ago, and it is easily the most efficient kettle that he’s ever known.

Boiling water, as you surely already know, is a tedious and boring task that requires one to channel their mana into heat-energy, focus that heat-energy into a stream, and then direct that stream continuously towards the water until it finally begins to boil. It’s a time-consuming task that Logan’s tight schedule simply cannot afford.

Logan’s innovative kettle combines magic with science in order to significantly cut down the amount of time and energy one needs to boil water. There’s a metal coil inside of it that allows the kettle to heat up water almost all by itself, by converting electric energy into heat energy — meaning that Logan only needs to fire off a quick spark, and his kettle takes care of the rest.

Despite the simplicity of the design, it has always been one of Logan’s favourite pieces of work, if only because of how often he uses it. On the other hand, he’s got plenty of favourites to choose from. Logan’s cozy little apartment is nearly covered with his own gizmos and trinkets, some fully functional, some half-finished with pieces spilling out the sides, some completely abandoned. He doesn’t consider those latter ones “failures”, though. Logan prefers to call them “learning experiences”.

And he does learn. Logan enjoys his work, regardless of whether or not his creations work out the way he plans, because every experiment teaches him something new. Science is so (woefully) underexplored that Logan finds himself discovering new and exciting concepts left, right and centre. Indeed, it's not at all an uncommon occurrence for him to find something that he's never read of or even heard of before. The sense of accomplishment he gets from these not-so-rare occasions is just about enough to make up for the inconveniences of his lifestyle.

The keywords in that sentence being "just about".

Recently, he's been finding aforementioned inconveniences to be growing more and more, well, inconvenient. The impermanence of his living situation, for example. (Just thinking about this subject makes Logan's chest tighten involuntarily. Though he isn't all the way finished yet, he sets his teacup down.) Logan hasn't been able to hold onto a home for more than a matter of months ever since he first picked up this hobby of his.

For some completely unfathomable reason, the idea of having a mad scientist living in their building is apparently one that most landlords consider to be somewhat unsettling.

There are other difficulties, too, that prevent him from finding a permanent place to call home: noise complaints from neighbours, property damage from explosions and acid burns, that one time that he accidentally gave sentience to a small tin-can-and-soy-sauce-packet robot, leading to the creation of an army of small but hostile rodents. The usual.

(Now that Logan thinks about it, he's starting to see where the whole "unsettling" thing might come from.)

The first one or two or twelve times he was kicked out, Logan didn't mind terribly. Change doesn't bother him too much. But as his collection of knick-knacks and doo-dads continued to grow, it began to become a real nuisance to have to pack everything up and relocate so often.

Not to mention, the constant moving means that Logan has never had the time to make any sort of lasting social connections, either. That's not a huge issue, though, since Logan isn't exactly the most social of people anyway. Even when he was younger and by extension wasn't constantly being forced to move around, Logan had never had much luck with friendship. So although his life is a lonely one, Logan's grown quite accustomed to having things be this way. He doesn't mind. Not as much as he used to, at least.

Logan picks his teacup back up again. He swishes the cup around a few times, watching the half-disintegrated leaves swish with it. After a moment, the leaves settle down into a shape that almost resembles a dragon if Logan squints and turns his head a certain way. He takes a sip, notes with displeasure that the liquid inside has grown unpleasantly cold, but finishes it anyway. After his cup is empty, Logan takes a moment to gaze out the window and appreciate how nice of a day it is; both suns are happily shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. The perfect weather for a weekend, even if he is going to spend the whole day cooped up in his apartment.

Stretching, Logan rises from the comfortable armchair on which he had been sitting and crosses the room to where his latest invention awaits him. Today is going to be a good day, he thinks, allowing a rare smile to slip out as he approaches. He's been working hard on this one, and he thinks now that it may be finished at last; his tests last week, he had been amazed to find, had all gone off without a hitch.

That is, all but one. But that's only because he has yet to run the final test. Logan thought he would save that one for today, just to be on the safe side. But he’s got high hopes for the outcome of this final test. A good day, indeed.

In fact, the best, worst day of Logan's life has already begun — and it's all thanks to the pair of two little round creations sitting right in front of him.

xxx

THREE MONTHS AGO

"Okay, but… I still don't get it," grunts the landlord. "What are they supposed to do?"

Logan smiles wryly. "Permanently revolutionise the way that people get from place to place, that's what."

"Looks pretty typical for something that's supposed to be so 'revolutionary'. Honestly, it kind of looks like a regular TP-circle. Except, uh, portable."

"Yes? Well, I'm glad to hear that, since that's exactly what it is. A portable teleportation-circle. I've very nearly completed the design, and I can promise you that as soon as I've added the final touches, this is going to completely change life as we know it. Then I'll have more than enough money to pay rent. Just you wait, sir." The other man still doesn't look convinced. Logan is getting desperate — he doesn't know where else he can find a home if this doesn't work out. "At least allow me to explain to you how it works before you turn me away."

After a moment, the gruff older man relents. "Alright, fine," he sighs. "How does your portable TP-circle work?"

"Well, the general concept is more or less the same as a regular TP-circle. You step in, it collects a bit of your mana and converts it into a path between the circle you're standing in and whichever circle you want to TP to. The difference is that my design is, well, portable. I mean, TP-circle stations are all well and good, but sometimes they're just located in such inconvenient places. Add that to the fact that there's always such long line-ups for those stations, and... well, suffice it to say, I'm surprised that they've been in use for this long.

"With my portable TP-circles, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want, and you don't have to deal with those annoying line-ups anymore. You can just fold one of these up and use a simple object-TP to send it wherever you want. Anyone can do this. Object-TPs are one of the first spells they teach in school. So, portable TP-circles will make transportation easier and more accessible for everyone. Like I said before, I've already almost perfected the design. I only need to iron out a couple of kinks, then figure out how to make it more lightweight. Once I’ve done that, it’ll be completely ready. Ready for use, and ready to change the world, by extension. I only need a few months, half a year at most. I promise." He’s nearly begging by the time he finishes talking. This location is his last chance, after all. Logan holds his breath, watching the landlord's face change as he weighs Logan's words.

And then, after what feels like an eternity of waiting, Logan finally hears the words he's been hoping for.

"Okay. Four months. That's all you get. You'd better have your portable thingamajig finished by then. Otherwise, you're outta here. You hear me? Out. Of. Here. Don't let me down."

Logan sighs, a wave of relief washing over him. Four months... a quarter of a year. That's going to be tight, but Logan's sure that he'll be able to manage that deadline if he works hard enough.

If there's one thing that Logan has never had a problem with, it's working hard.

xxx

And work hard, he did. For three months straight, Logan’s devoted every second of his free time to perfecting his design. He’s long since lost count of how many tests he’s run, how many times he’s taken his invention apart and put it back together in a completely different way, how many times he’s had to entirely scrap an idea or component… yes, the journey has been anything but smooth. And yet, looking at his finished creation now, Logan realises that every single second spent has been completely worth it.

Technically, Logan shouldn’t be using the word “finished”, since his invention has yet passed its final and most important test. But last week’s testing was the farthest that any of his prototypes had ever come, so Logan can’t help but hope that today, it’ll go just one step farther.

Well. There’s only one way to find out, now isn’t there?

Logan quickly pulls his trusty notebook and pen out of the ether, where he keeps his most important items. He flips the book open to a fresh new page. At the top, he writes the date, then a title: TEST RUN # —

He hesitates.

TEST RUN #WHO EVEN KNOWS ANYMORE, HONESTLY.

There, perfect.

And so he begins. The first twenty or so tests, he completes without even thinking. Logan has done those ones so many times, to say that he could complete them in his sleep would be an under-exaggeration. He tests the prototype’s durability, folding ability, resistance to wind and cold and heat and water. Of course, he doesn’t run into any problems there.

Next comes the slightly more interesting tests. Logan places one of the two circles onto his apartment floor, then folds the second one up so that it’s smaller and therefore easier to transport. With a snap of his fingers, he sends it off to the location that he’s been using for testing: a vast and empty flower field that, as far as Logan knows, no one besides him has set foot in for a couple of years at least.

Next, Logan picks up a small six-sided dice and places it gently onto the circle that he’d laid on the table. He’s barely let go of the dice and pulled his hand back when a familiar flash of bright blue light fills the room. By the time the light is gone, the dice is, too.

Logan grabs a looking-glass off his bookshelf, the one that he’s enchanted to always show the flower field. It only takes him a second to spot his circle lying surrounded by tall blades of grass, and then only a second more to find the dice sitting right there in the center of the circle. Looks like the dice test was successful. Logan isn’t surprised. The dice test is another easy one.

His next few tests are all more or less the same as the dice test. The only difference is that he’s no longer transporting dice; for each test, Logan uses a slightly more difficult object. First, he picks up a —

Hold on.

If Logan were writing this story, he would surely go into incredible detail about each and every test, listing off every single object he tries, telling you which tests have stood in his way in the past and explaining what he did to get around them.

Luckily for you, dear reader, Logan is not writing this story. He's only living it.

Suffice it to say, his portable-teleportation-circles pass each and every test with flying colours, just like they did last week. With every test passed, Logan grows more and more excited. He had already known when he began test run number who-even-knows-anymore-honestly that it was going to be an overwhelming success, but of course there’s such a difference between knowing something is going to happen versus seeing it happen with your own two eyes. Last week felt like a fluke, you see. This week is proof that it was not.

xxx

By the time Logan completes his second-to-last test, he is so giddy with excitement and passion, he can hardly think straight (although to be fair, “straight” never really has been a strength of his). A rush of adrenaline courses through the young inventor as he jots down two familiar words: Trial successful.

And then suddenly, the time has come. “This is it. I am... about to perform the final test,” Logan says to himself, scarce able to believe that he’s actually made it until he says the words out loud. They come out no louder than an awed whisper.

He tucks his notebook and pen back into the ether, smoothes down the wrinkles on his button-up shirt, adjusts his necktie, combs through his hair with his fingers. Not because he thinks someone is watching him; it’s just that Logan can’t help but feel that he should look his best for a moment like this. It’s, he thinks, a moment deserving of trumpet fanfare, of multi-coloured confetti, of a loud and dramatic drumroll.

Alas, Logan has none of these. He’ll have to settle for the loud drumbeat of his heart thumping in his chest, instead.

Logan stares at the devices sitting in front of him. He gets to his feet. Dusts himself off. Starts to back away. As he walks backwards, something swells inside of him; something big and bright and demanding. Pride? Hope? Fear? Perhaps a mixture of the three? Whatever it is, it grows and grows until it threatens to engulf the normally-so-unemotional young man. It’s now or never, Logan suddenly realises. He’s got to move before this strange Feeling-Thing immobilises him.

So move, he does. Logan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then before he knows it he’s running forward, forward, forward and onward as fast as his legs can go.

Because it’s him, of course; Logan is the final test. Transporting around little objects is all well and good, but the purpose of his invention has always been to transport people, after all.

The tip of Logan’s toe lands in the transportation circle, the rest of him following close behind. As soon as he’s landed, a familiar tingling begins to spread through him; the circle is harnessing his mana and converting it into a teleportation path, exactly as it’s meant to do. For precisely two instants, Logan’s body is suspended in a strange little pocket between time and space. He’s surrounded on all sides by pure light, bright enough to blind even with his eyes closed.

Then, just like that, it’s over. Logan touches down on solid ground, somehow feeling at once like he’s drifted down gently as a feather and like his entire body has been slammed into the ground hard enough to rattle the teeth in his skull. Slowly, warily, Logan opens his eyes to see that… something’s different.

No, scratch that. Everything’s different.

Logan turns around cautiously. The new location he’s found himself in is dimly lit, but it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to adjust.

He takes in old and cracked wooden planks, stains marking leaky spots on the ceiling, and spiderwebs strewn all over the place. He’s standing in what appears to be the attic of an abandoned warehouse of sorts. Maybe not a warehouse — maybe a workshop, or an old storage unit. No matter. Whatever this place is, it’s very clearly not the empty flower field that Logan had been expecting to open his eyes in.

As disappointment shoots through him like an arrow to the heart, Logan realises that he can literally feel his hopes being ground to dust. How curious. It’s not a very pleasant sensation, to say the least. The young scientist had been trying his best not to let his hopes run away from him too much, but after all the success of the previous tests, you can hardly blame him for getting excited, now can you?

Logan sighs heavily. I suppose I have some work to do. He’s not looking forward to resigning himself to yet another month of tinkering and testing, especially now that he’s tasted success. Who knows how long it’ll take to identify and fix whatever problem caused him to end up here?

Speaking of, where is “here”, anyway? Logan, quite frankly, hasn’t the foggiest idea where he is. He probably should figure that out, before he begins worrying about repairs and re-runs. Stretching, Logan looks around for the exit.

Aha! There’s a staircase. Following these stairs down onto the next floor, Logan comes across a door, standing the slightest bit ajar. A warm glow surrounds the doorway; sunlight from the outside world. He smiles triumphantly, allowing himself a little bit of celebration for this small victory (he needs the validation to keep going, after the crushing failure — er — learning experience he’s just suffered).

After the darkness of the warehouse-slash-workshop-slash-storage unit, the sunlight’s sudden harshness startles Logan a little bit when he opens the door. That’s odd, he thinks. I could swear that the suns weren’t nearly that bright a moment ago. He’s still a little lightheaded from the brightness of the transportation spell, so suffice it to say, the abnormally bright sunlight isn’t doing him any favours. Logan blinks as he steps out the door into a forest thick with trees and shrubs. “You’d think that the foliage would block out the suns a little, now wouldn’t you,” he deadpans under his breath. Logan rubs his eyes. Then he rubs them again.

Goodness gracious, why is it so bright? Logan fights back an angry growl as the white spots in his field of vision persist, refusing to diminish even the slightest amount. Today was supposed to be a good day! Channeling his frustration towards the most immediate cause, Logan glares up through the leaves, at the sun —

Hold on.

The sun, singular?

That can’t be right. What happened to the other one? Logan looks away, then looks back, as if he might have somehow missed the presence of a massive star in the sky. Nothing. He stumbles around, straining to see if it’s somehow hidden behind one of the larger leaves. But no — there’s still nothing.

Suddenly, it looks like Logan might have a bigger problem on his hands than simply needing to do some minor repairs.

xxx

There’s a sort of throbbing pain coming somewhere from Logan’s left elbow.

He’s only vaguely aware of this, but vague is better than none-at-all, so he focuses in on that pain to try and ground himself. It works; after a moment, the fractured world begins coming back into focus.

Logan tries to inspect the wound, only to realise that he can’t turn his head, since it’s currently locked tight in an iron grip between his hands. His legs are curled up beneath him, too. He doesn’t remember assuming this bizarre fetal position. In fact, there’s a lot he doesn’t remember. How he got here, for example. From the darkness surrounding him and the hard wooden floor beneath him, Logan guesses that he’s somehow ended up back in the attic of the warehouse. His mind is still too scattered to grasp anything beyond that. But it’s a start.

Stiffly, Logan forces his fingers to relax and, stretching his neck, begins to massage the life back into them. How long did I spend, just… sitting there, waiting for nothing? he wonders, marvelling at how tense his arms still are. As he starts doing the same for his cramped legs, bits and pieces of memories start breaking away and swimming to the surface of his consciousness at last.

He remembers staring. He’d always been taught not to stare directly at the suns as a child; the ultraviolet light might burn his retinas, causing permanent damage or even blindness. But frankly, solar retinopathy had been the last of his concerns once he’d realised that there was an entire star missing from the great blue sky above.

He remembers shouting. Who can blame him for that, really? Something about knowing that you are completely lost and alone… it triggers something primal within the soul, awakening a beast that can only be pacified with a roar. “Lost? Of course not. I’m right here,” Logan wants to argue with himself, but he can’t. He doesn’t have any idea where ‘here’ is, you see.

He remembers sprinting. Illogical, perhaps, to think that by putting distance between himself and the ugly truth, he can make it go away. But we as humans do tend to fear that which we don’t understand, and to run from that which we fear. Logan had always considered himself fearless, and therefore powerful. To have that power taken away? That’s one more thing to run from.

He remembers stumbling. He took the stairs two at a time as he went, trying to go ever faster. At one point, when he wasn’t paying attention, he missed a step and went flailing downwards, landing hard on… his left elbow. The sudden fall didn’t bother him too much, though. In fact, it was almost reassuring, in a twisted way, to have his body’s state match his mind’s.

He remembers squeezing, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, telling himself again and again that he must be dreaming. Only dreaming. It’s all just a dream, and when he opens his eyes back up again he’ll be resting, safe and sound, in his cozy little apartment with his kettle and his teacup and his comfortable armchair and —

And…

He’s not dreaming, of course. This whole — what even is it that Logan’s gotten himself into, here? Is he in an entirely different world? A different dimension, even? — whatever it is, it’s here to stay. The realisation almost makes Logan want to retreat right back into fetal position.

But… no. No, no, no. Logan catches himself before he can slip back into the apathetic zone. He mustn’t panic; not a second time, at least. Hold it together, Logan tells himself. In through the nose. Hold. Out through the mouth.

What he wouldn’t give for a calming cup of tea right about now.

The deep breathing does the trick well enough, though; Logan’s head is now much clearer than it had been only moments before. He’s still afraid, of course (he’s just been dumped out all alone into an unfamiliar land; who wouldn’t be?), but for the most part, his logic and reason have returned; thank goodness for that.

There’s a lot about his current situation that Logan cannot control. Not least of all, the fact that his unsuccessful experiment has stranded him in what very well might be an alternate dimension. He can’t control what’s happened to him, or what will happen to him next, for that matter. All that Logan can control is how he reacts.

It’s not about what’s happened. It’s about what he’s going to do about it.

“Giving up” is a completely foreign concept to Logan. He is a scientist, for goodness’ sakes! Not only is he used to things not going exactly the way he plans them to, his hobby hinges entirely on staying determined and finding solutions. Logan does not simply “give up”. And he’s certainly not planning on starting now.

Instead, he approaches the problem like he’s analyzing the results of an experiment gone off the tracks and trying to figure out what went wrong. Step one: observe and gather data. He’ll only be able to figure out the “what comes next” after he’s got all the pieces of the puzzle.

The second time that Logan walks out of the empty warehouse, the immediate glare of the sunlight doesn’t affect him quite as much — possibly because this time, he’s expecting it. Now, this may be silly, but the fact that he copes with the sun so easily this time around gives him a bit of a confidence boost; it’s almost like he’s just managed to defeat an enemy that, the first time around, he couldn’t even bring himself to face. This might not be so bad after all, Logan allows, striding out the door with a newfound sureness in his stride.

And his good mood only gets better as he continues to explore the forest surrounding him, distancing himself with every step from the abandoned warehouse where he had shed his insecurities. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that, besides the singular sun (which he can almost forget about, provided he doesn’t look up), the forest appears to be… exceedingly normal. It’s one that he wouldn’t even take a second look at, back in his origin dimension.

(Goodness, Logan reflects absently, the phrase “origin dimension” sounds so strange, doesn’t it?)

But of course, the flora and fauna in this forest aren’t exactly the same. There’s just enough variation between the two dimensions to fascinate Logan without frightening him, in fact.

That fascination, as it turns out, leads perfectly into step two: record observations, preferably on paper, for reference. Logan quickly conjures back up his notebook and pen to scribble down notes and make rough sketches of the forest’s almost-but-not-entirely-familiar specimens.

The conjuring takes a little more effort than usual, making Logan realise that his mana supply is probably getting dangerously low. Of course — he must have used up quite a lot of it earlier, when he was casting all of those teleportation spells. I’ll have to be a bit more conservative with my mana, Logan decides, until I can find a place to sleep and replenish, that is. The prospect scares him a little. He doesn’t like the fact that people depend on magic so much, but disliking it doesn’t make it any less true, and he’s certainly not exempt from that dependance. What will he do if he runs out?

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan’s attention is drawn a beautiful species of butterfly landing on an equally beautiful flower. Uncapping his pen, Logan smiles, grateful for the distraction. Mana can wait, can’t it? For now, he’s merely a scientist investigating an alien world — nothing more, nothing less.

xxx

He’s not sure how long he spends wandering through the forest, jotting down notes and observations, before his feet bring to a well-beaten path. This comes as quite a surprise to Logan, who had somehow been under the impression that he’s alone in the forest. The idea of finding another civilization both excites and unnerves him.

To journey or not to journey? Logan is conflicted on what he should do next. On one hand, if he doesn’t follow the path, he just knows that this decision will come back to haunt him. It’ll simply eat him up inside, the not knowing.

On the other hand… he has no idea what to expect, following this path. Where, or who, will the earth lead him to? How long will he spend walking? Does the path even end, or is this world nothing more than one big forest with a path circling all the way around? Does he want it to end? A path that leads to nowhere is better than a path that leads to danger, but in an unfamiliar land such as this one, the latter option seems a lot more likely.

Yes, it’s clear that the cons far outweigh the pros. Safety ought to be his priority here. The correct course of action, therefore, is to ignore the path and turn back to the forest. Just… just walk away. Walk... away.

Logan tucks his notebook into his back pocket and walks towards the path, cursing his incurable curiosity every step of the way.

xxx

Seconds stretch into minutes, then minutes into hours, as Logan follows the mysterious trail. There are times when he feels like he should stop, turn back before it’s too late, before the universe can throw anything else at him. But he’s too damned curious for his own good, and he can’t bring himself to.

Luckily for Logan, the universe seems to have had its fill of tormenting him today. The path does have an end, one that he reaches without encountering any hostile entities, and what he finds at the end is more than enough to make up for the hours of walking and waiting and worrying.

It’s a city. A city with people walking casually around, completely normal people just like Logan himself, which is exciting enough on its own — but what makes this discovery go from good to great is the city itself.

Simply put, the city looks like it’s been pulled straight out of one of Logan’s favourite science fantasy novels. He sees people riding around in elegant and futuristic vehicles with sleek metal bodies and four perfectly round, perfectly uniform wheels. He sees tall, towering buildings with bright yellow or white lights flickering in their windows rather than the dim, disappointing blue glow that he’s accustomed to. And everywhere he looks, he sees people tap-tap-tapping away on these tiny little handheld devices.

A gaggle of people pushes past him, every one of them fixated on their screens. When he catches a glimpse of what’s on these screens, he doesn’t blame them for being so tuned out to the rest of the world; if he had one, he’d be fixated, too.

On every screen is something different: digital calendars and checklists, looping pictures, games, perfectly uniform writing. Some people even have their devices held up to their ear and are talking into them, showing Logan that they’re able to pick up and store audio.

What kind of world must this be, for every single person to be able to own a piece of technology like this and not think twice about it?

The answer to his own question comes to him almost immediately. “A world where science is king, and magic comes second,” Logan realises out loud.

He knew it. He knew it! Science isn’t useless — it’s not, it’s not, it’s not! And it’s not hopeless to try and pursue a future of science. The proof that it’s possible is right here, in front of him!

His excitement fuels him forwards and into the city, where he begins flitting from building to building in a manner much like the butterfly he’d been sketching earlier; mostly arbitrary, based only on whichever locations catch his fancy. This results in him zig-zagging erratically from place to place, as there’s scarcely a single storefront or skyscraper that doesn’t catch his fancy. Everywhere he looks, he sees unthinkably advanced innovations being used in perfectly natural, casual fashions. Logan’s dreamed of places like this, but never imagined actually getting to see one someday!

What’s more — in all his exploring, he doesn’t once see anyone using magic. The life of these people is completely effortless. Completely automatic.

It’s the very life he’s been dreaming of for over twenty years now.

xxx

As the sun begins to go down, so too does Logan’s stamina. Panic had brought him out of the warehouse, concern had fueled him through the forest, curiosity had led him down the path, and finally intrigue had pulled him through the city — but though the intrigue is still fresh, the burst of energy he’d gained is wearing off, and now Logan finds himself at the unhappy tail end of an exhausting day.

All those emotions!  Goodness, Logan is in no way used to dealing with so many conflicting emotions in one day (indeed, he is in no way used to dealing with emotions, period). A long, long day of feeling has taken its toll on the young man.

He finds a city bench, which he trudges over to and parks himself down upon. Then, his thoughts finally settling down, Logan reflects and starts to develop some hypotheses on his current situation.

First of all, what went wrong with his invention? That seems as good a place to start as any. And he thinks that he might already have a vague idea:

As a general rule of thumb, small, inanimate objects are the easiest to transport from place to place; they’re much less demanding. Logan had tested large objects and they had gone through just fine. He’d tested small plants, with similar results. But his mistake was assuming that this was sufficient proof that his design was advanced enough to handle something as large and… well, “animate” as a human being. The fact is that his devices, despite how long he’d been working on them, were still primitive designs. Too primitive to safely teleport humans, at least. Add that to the fact that he must have already been running low on mana when he stepped in, and it’s not hard to see what went wrong. The teleportation pat created by the circles must have become unstable and broken somewhere between point A and point B, dumping Logan out and into this brave new world of his.

As to what this ‘brave new world’ actually is… now, that’s a little trickier. His best guess is that he’s ended up in some kind of sister dimension to his own. Centuries ago, Logan recalls learning, people had much more faith in the capabilities of science. Nowadays, everyone seems to assume that science was a much more ancient concept than magic, and it was then replaced when intellectuals started “proving” that magic was more reliable — but that’s not true in the slightest. In fact, the two of them started developing around the same time. One might say they were born of the same impulse, as it were: to control and shape the world to fit one’s own desires. That was what introduced science and magic into the world.

During that time, science was at its peak, whereas magic had only just begun to peek out. Over the years, the two battled for dominance. And in the end, magic came out on top and science unfortunately faded into obscurity.

Or at least, that’s what happened to Logan’s dimension. What if this world, then, had the same history up until that point, and then the two timelines… fractured? Magic was considered a foolish endeavour and was cast aside, while science stepped into the spotlight and thrived there.

So, then, it’s not only that people abstain from using magic because science is enough to sustain them. Rather, magic may have in fact been completely erased. But despite that… at its core, this dimension is remarkably similar to his own.

My own. It doesn’t feel exactly right, referring to the magical world as if it belongs to him. Logan suddenly realises that not once since getting here has he thought of that other dimension, or the things in it, as “home”.

A home ought to be a place where he feels comfortable, oughtn’t it? A place that he shares an intimate connection with. By that criteria, then, the ever-changing apartments he’s always cycling through are not his home. The dimension where everyone accepts magic and disregards science is not his home. Even his inventions — they’ve always been an attempt to make up for what he feels he lacks, and therefore artificially construct a home where there is none.

Logan gets back to his feet, leaving the bench behind, and looks around at the buildings surrounding him. At the sun still steadily dipping its way below the horizon, painting the heavens in all sorts of colour. The sight of it all fills him with a sort of serenity that he’s never known before.

Never once has Logan felt a sense of belonging, in the other dimension. Whereas here…

xxx

For some reason, much later, Logan is still walking. He is tired, yes, but his legs seem to have a mind of their own, growing restless whenever he sits still for too long. It’s as if they refuse to relax until he’s walked the length of this city, seen all that it has to offer him. So while the sky goes dark and more and more of those peculiar yellow lights appear in the windows, Logan keeps on keeping on.

Logan doesn’t know what he’s looking for until he’s already found it.

A small theatre, not at all unlike one Logan would expect to see near his old apartment(s), but for the glowing sign on the front.

EVEREST ETHEREUM, ENCHANTER EXTRAORDINAIRE, its large, bold letters loudly proclaim. Directly underneath, in text that’s a much smaller size: Today only — mind-muddling magical marvels for guys, gals, and non-binary pals of all ages!

A little tacky, perhaps, and whoever came up with the name and slogan could definitely stand to ease up on the alliteration, but the message grabs Logan’s attention all the same.

A magician, here! And one powerful enough to call themselves an enchanter to boot. Could Logan have been too quick in assuming that magic doesn’t play a role in this dimension? Perhaps it still exists, to a smaller degree. Perhaps only a select few people have magical capabilities. Perhaps Logan is jumping to conclusions again and really ought to stop doing that.

No, that last one isn’t much of a “perhaps”.

Rather than drive himself crazy with what-ifs, Logan decides to go inside and see this enchanter’s performance for himself. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do.

The inside of the theatre is… underwhelming. That’s not to say the few posters and decorations hung up aren’t nice ones — they’re just not very impressive, that’s all. There’s a very conspicuous lack of the colourful banners and red-carpetry that he’d been expecting. The only other person in the room sits behind a simple folding table, head resting on the surface of said table and the rest of his body completely swallowed up by a baggy black-and-purple hoodie. All the audience members must already be in the theatre. Still, Logan is a little put out by how empty the room is. Surely, someone as powerful as an enchanter deserves a much more handsome welcome than this.

The door swings shut behind him with a loud beep. Logan gives a start and scrambles further into the theatre. As he does, the hooded figure resting on the table looks up for the first time, revealing a young man’s tired-looking face.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat. Speaking of handsome.

The other man blinks blearily a few times before he notices Logan. His eyes (which are smudged with some kind of dark substance — at least, Logan hopes that it’s artificial and not natural bags from sleep deprivation) immediately widen as he scrambles to sit up straight, jostling a plate of cookies resting on the table. The shadows cast by the man’s large hood aren’t quite enough to hide a deep flush colouring his cheeks; Logan guesses that he must be embarrassed at having been caught asleep on the job. “Don’t worry.” Logan quickly tries to reassure the man, seeing as he already appears to have enough stress as is. “I won’t tell your boss.”

The man’s hard, jagged fear visibly softens. “I — Um — thanks.” His voice is gravelly, but not unpleasantly so. Logan thinks the quiet scratchiness is in fact strangely soothing. “I swear that’s not, like, an everyday thing, I’m just…”

Logan quirks a brow, amused. The man checks himself.

“I’m just going to stop talking now. Thanks. Sorry.” Rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, the man’s eyes dart away. “You’re here to see the show, right?”

Logan nods.

“Great. Tickets are twenty dollars.”

That makes Logan hesitate. “Twenty...?” What does dollars mean? It’s an unfamiliar word to Logan, who’s used to using precious stones or mana to make payments. Does the man perhaps mean sand dollars?

Then Logan notices the metal box that the man is pointing to. It’s filled with colourful pieces of paper and perfectly round metal pieces. Those must be dollars, then. Do they use paper and metal disks as payment here? That’s new.

The man in the hoodie apparently misinterprets Logan’s hesitation. “It’s actually not that expensive,” he reassures Logan. “Like, if you’ve ever tried to get tickets to, say, a Broadway show… well, heh. Let’s just say, twenty dollars is peanuts. Besides, these guys are really good magicians. You’ll never be the same once you’ve watched them perform.” He pauses. “And I’m not just saying that ‘cause they’re my boyfriends.”

If Logan wasn’t already convinced before, he certainly is now. Only problem is, he doesn’t have any dollars.

Then again…

Logan eyes the money box carefully. Many of the pieces of colourful paper are printed with a detailed design and a big number 20. That’s most likely worth twenty dollars, then. So he only needs one of those papers to get a ticket, right?

Or, alternatively, something that looks like one of those papers.

“Pardon me, but would you mind terribly if I...” As casually as he can, Logan reaches into the box and plucks out a paper.

“Hey,” protests the man, leaning forward. “What are you —”

“I promise you, I am not going to steal your dollars. I would merely like to take a good look at this for a moment, that’s all.” He turns it over in his hands, inspecting the detailed design on the front and the back, feeling its weight, even giving it a subtle sniff to confirm that it doesn’t smell of anything. He debates licking it, but something tells him that would be a bad idea.

Then he snaps his fingers, and where there was one piece of paper, there now lies two.

Creating a convincing Duplicate of an item is a difficult task in the magical world, but that’s only because people’s eyes are trained to spot little tells such as slight distortions when held up to the light, or corners and edges that are ever-so-slightly darker or lighter than the original object, or details that seem to blur when you look directly at them.

But people might be less used to spotting Dupes here, since they don’t seem to use magic as often. That’s what Logan is hoping for, at least. He’s just used up the last of his mana creating that Dupe, so it had better work.

Only one way to find out. Feigning calm, Logan hands both of the dollars back to the man with the hoodie.

Their hands briefly touch as he does so; the other man’s fingers are surprisingly soft, especially compared to Logan’s own calloused ones. As you might imagine, this doesn’t help his nerves any.

Then Logan steps back, feeling his heart rate speeding up (for more reasons than one). The man’s mouth has fallen open, and he seems dumbfounded… but he accepts the papers without question. Phew. Logan lets out a sigh of relief and feels himself relax. He’s safe. Nothing to fear.

“That’s a nifty little trick you’ve got there,” a new voice quite suddenly speaks directly into his ear, startling Logan so badly that he lets out a small scream and crashes directly into the folding table, very nearly knocking the dollar-box and plate of cookies over.

With both his tailbone and pride sorely bruised, Logan scrambles to his feet, automatically adjusting his necktie, trying to ignore the burning warmth spreading across his face and neck. So much for ‘nothing to fear’, he thinks, humiliated.

“I’m so sorry!” exclaims the newcomer, who Logan now sees is another young man. His eyes are wide behind the thin frames of his round glasses. “Oh gosh, I didn’t realise I would scare you like that. Did I sneak up on you? Are you hurt? Ah, darn. I should’ve given you some warning, or something, shouldn’t I? Are you okay?”

“I — no — well, yes, but — that is —” Unsure of which question to answer first, Logan fumbles with his words for some time before finally settling on a simple, “I am fine, thank you.”

The newcomer begins to say something else, but he is interrupted before he can get anything out. “Hang on, what do you think you’re doing?” At this, Logan turns to look at the first man, the one selling tickets, worried that he has discovered Logan’s Dupe, but he isn’t looking at Logan. Instead, his finger is pointed accusingly at the newcomer, whose bottom lip is now stuck out in a pout.

“I know, Virgil, I just missed you!” ‘Virgil?’ Ah, that must be the ticketmaster’s name. “Roman and I have been stuck all alone without you for, like, two years already!” Two years? This man has been in isolation for two years? That seems... cruel. “Plus I got hungry and wanted to come grab some cookies.”

“I thought you had cookies backstage, Patton!” the ticketmaster — Virgil — replies, sounding exasperated. (Oh. Backstage. He was exaggerating when he said two years, then, Logan corrects himself.)

Patton shuffles his feet. “Well, yeah, we did. But, uh, we… lost them?” he tries unconvincingly.

“Lost them in your stomach, huh,” deadpans Virgil.

“Hey! No!”

Virgil gives Patton a skeptical stare.

“...Maybe a little. Anyway, the cookies don’t matter!” insists Patton, quickly changing the subject. “Either way, I wanted to come see you again before the show starts. Maybe help you out here, give you less work to do. Um, but that might have backfired, I guess? You know, since I almost scared this poor fellow right out of his pants just now.” He turns to the poor fellow in question, who has been watching this exchange play out, unsure of whether he should be saying anything. “Sorry about that, by the way. I thought that trick you did was really terrific, that’s all, and I guess I got carried away.”

“Not a problem,” Logan replies briskly. “Why don’t we both… forget that whole thing ever happened, please.”

“Aw, but I was going to ask if you could teach me how to do that!” says Patton.

Logan isn’t sure how to answer that. I’m actually a magician from an alternate dimension, and that money is nothing more than an illegal illusion. No, thank you. Besides, from what he’s heard so far, Patton is going to be performing in the show he’s about to see. If that’s the case, shouldn’t he already know how to make a Duplicate? It’s a very simple spell, after all…

Luckily, he’s saved from having to come up with a response when Virgil breaks in once more. “Hey, I hate to cut this whole bonding moment short—”

“I cradled you in my arms,” giggles Patton; Virgil ignores him.

“— but I don’t think you’ve got time to learn an entirely new trick before the show starts. Seriously, you can’t be out here. You’re going onstage in fifteen minutes, tops.”

Patton sighs. “You’re right, you’re right, you’re right you’re right you’re right,” he says, though his voice is barely above a mumble.”

“What was that?” Virgil pointedly cups a hand around his ear.

“You’re right! You always are. Ever the level-headed one, aren’t you?” Patton walks around the table to embrace Virgil affectionately, pulling down the purple-and-black hood to give him a kiss on the cheek. Virgil shrugs out of the hug and shoos Patton away, babbling about showtimes and baked goods and tickets, and all the while trying to hide his wide smile behind dainty hands that aren’t nearly large enough to cover up his joy. Logan pretends not to notice.

“Enjoy the show!” is the last thing that Patton says, grinning with unabashed cheerfulness at Logan and — are his eyes deceiving him, or was that a wink? Before Logan can even process Patton’s words, the charmingly cheerful man has reached around Virgil, snagged a cookie or three, and strolled away. Logan watches him nibble at his newly acquired treat as he disappears through a large door marked BACKSTAGE.

“Don’t worry,” murmurs Logan, fighting a smile of his own. “I have no doubt that I will.”

xxx

As he watches the enchanter sweep grandly into center stage, Logan feels like he’s staring up into the sun’s glare all over again. Everest Ethereum’s regal red velvet robes are illuminated with all manner of golden sequins and sparkling trim, glittering so brilliantly in the dark theatre that Logan briefly has to lift a hand to shield his gaze for fear that he’ll go blind otherwise. His eyes adjust quickly, though, and once they do, Logan is able to look more carefully at the enchanter, Everest. Framing his face is a meticulously styled halo that’s just as red as his robes are, and he’s got a golden crown perched on his head to match the rest of his ensemble. He is, in a word, beautiful.

Moments later, Patton comes trippingly traipsing out from the other side of the stage with a large wooden box in tow. His outfit, a blue skirt-and-tuxedo combo, is significantly less flashy than Everest’s, allowing Logan to conclude that Patton must be the enchanter’s assistant.

Patton and Everest reach the center of the stage at almost exactly the same time — was that choreographed? A coincidence? Or are they just that in touch with each other? — as thunderous applause echoes through the theatre, where Logan is seated among many other eager audience members. Once the applause dies down, the performance begins. Logan leans forward in his seat, eager to catch his first glimpse of magic from this new dimension.

It only takes a few minutes for Logan to realise that there’s about as much actual magic in this so-called “magic show” as there are dolphins in the desert.

What he’s watching is decidedly not magic. There are no spells, no incantations, no nothing. It’s all simply misdirection, distracting audience attention towards one location on the stage while a sneaky sleight-of-hand takes place in another. Patton scurries around and fetches items and tells awful puns while Everest stands center stage and dramatically waves his hands around, but Logan knows that it’s nothing but an act.

He can’t decide whether he’s disappointed or impressed, or an odd mixture of the two.

Very disappointed, for obvious reasons. He’d come into the theatre hoping to find that he isn’t completely alone in his magical abilities. It’s one thing for him to say that he can survive without magic, but it’s another thing entirely to actually try it. He’ll be able to figure it out in time; that much, Logan is certain of. It just… would have been nice to have someone who could help guide him through this transition.

But then, at the same time, very impressed. Despite the letdown, Logan has to admire how clever all of the tricks are. He can’t even begin to guess how many of them work, and isn’t at all confident that he’d be able to recreate the same things with magic. The scientific dimension has yet again proven to be far more inventive and creative than the magical one, it seems.

Plus, he has to admit that though it’s not in the traditional sense, Everest is enchanting. He is nimble fingers and laughing eyes and flaming hair and words that sing as he speaks them, and he is downright bewitching, all of him.

xxx

“Alright, guys, gals, and non-binary pals!” Patton says, walking up to the front of the stage and squinting in the brightness of the stage lights. “Gosh, it is so great to see that we have such a full house today, and especially since we’re going to need to pull up an audience member for this next trick! I’m looking for one very brave soul to come on up here and lay all his cards on the table. Let’s see, how about… you there, in the front!” Patton finishes, pointing directly at Logan.

Directly at Logan.

Logan realises quite suddenly that his hand is stuck up in the air as high as it can go.

Huh.

“Come on up! Don’t be shy, now,” calls Patton merrily, undeniable kindness colouring his every word. Logan debates pretending not to hear him, but eventually decides that that would only do more harm than good, and has no choice but to get up and pick his way through the rows and rows of seats, then climb up onto the stage where the full force of the stage lights hits him so hard, it almost makes his ears ring. Logan watches recognition flicker across Patton’s face, but the blue-tuxedoed man doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s your name?”

Logan, he tries to say. The word gets caught in his throat. He coughs and tries again, awkwardly: “My name is Logan.”

Patton turns back to the audience. “Alright, everyone, give it up for Logan!” The words have scarcely left his mouth before the building starts shaking with applause and a few scattered whoops and whistles. Patton waits for the noise to die down before turning back to Logan. There’s a mischievous expression on his face that makes Logan very uneasy indeed. “You know, I didn’t quite catch you that first time. Guess your volume was too low…”

Logan blinks.

“...gan?”

Low… gan. Lo-gan.

I might scream.

It’s a tempting notion, but before Logan can act on it, Patton seems to read his expression and hurries to move on. “Alright, Logan, your job’s going to be a super simple one, okay? We’re going back to the basics with this trick. I think everyone’s seen this one performed before. All I need you to do is pick a card, any card!” So saying, Patton gestures towards Everest with a flourish; Logan watches on in amazement as Everest pulls playing card after playing card out from behind his ear, until he’s got a full deck in his hands.

The enchanter hands the deck to Patton. The audience applauds dutifully. Patton grins.

“Okay, okay, settle down now. That’s just the beginning,” he calls. Then, turning to Logan, Patton fans the cards out face-down. “Go ahead, pick one. Now look at it. Memorise what’s on there. Don’t show it to me, okay? You can show it to the audience if you’d like, but make sure that I can’t see it.”

Logan obliges, pulling out a 5 of Diamonds and showing it off. He gets the feeling that everyone knows where this trick is going except for him.

“Great. Okay, now just slide that back in here, anywhere you’d like” continues Patton, still holding the cards in the same fanned-out position. Once Logan has done so, Patton shuffles the deck thoroughly before handing it back to Everest. Logan watches as Everest performs a series of complicated hand movements, shuffling faster and faster until his hands and the cards are nothing more than a blur of colour and motion, and then all at once —

“Is this your card?”

Logan’s eyes widen. The enchanter is brandishing the same card that he pulled out! “I — yes, it is!” he announces, nodding. “How did you…”

The other half of his question is drowned out in the cacophony of clapping that follows. Both Patton and the enchanter shake Logan’s hand while Patton’s lips move. Logan can’t hear him, of course, but it’s not difficult to infer that Patton is dismissing him.

Shakily, Logan walks off the stage and returns to his seat, feeling one part alarm, one part confusion, and ninety-eight parts exhilaration.

xxx

Much too soon, the performance is over. Logan surges to his feet along with the rest of the audience as the lights go back up, applauding until the palms of his hands are red and stinging.

The crowd carries him out into the no-longer-empty lobby, where Logan leans uncomfortably against one of the red brick walls. Perhaps he’s supposed to leave the building now, but he hesitates.

He doesn’t know where he’ll go once he’s left. And there’s something else, too, Logan realises after a moment. For some reason, leaving the theatre feels like leaving behind the last trace of magic that Logan will encounter for a long time. Yes, the show was made up of clever illusion rather than actual mana, but something undeniably magical happened in there tonight and Logan doesn’t want to walk away from it just yet.

So, he doesn’t. He stands and he waits, and he watches people animatedly talking to one another as they stream out the door, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He watches the cookies disappearing as they get snatched up into the fists of greedy toddlers and equally as greedy middle-aged men alike.

He is squinting at a young fellow’s t-shirt, trying to decide if the text on it reads Could or Couldn’t Be Gayer (he’s quite fond of the sentiment either way) when a sudden shout and the sounds of scattered applause catch his attention. Logan looks up to see the enchanter walking out the backstage door and into the lobby, Patton trailing close behind.

At the sight of the two of them, Logan is quite glad that he chose to wait around.

A group of small children run up to tug on Patton’s skirt. One of them holds up a black device larger than her own head. “Will you take a picture with us?” Logan hears her say. Patton smiles warmly.

Logan’s heart feels warm, too.

He’s about to move forward in the crowd to try and get a closer look at the pair of them when someone sidles up next to him. Logan glances over to see Virgil, still clad in his black-and-purple hoodie.

“So?”

Logan furrows his brow. “So, what?”

“What did you think of the show?” Virgil clarifies.

“Oh. Oh, it was...” Logan trails off. He’s not sure if mere words can express everything he’s feeling right now.

The silence drags on. Virgil winces. “Uh-oh. Does that mean it was bad?”

“No! Not at all. I just — argh.” Logan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at his inability to adequately express himself.

“Take your time, buddy.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I guess… it wasn’t quite so bad.” Logan finally gets out. “In fact, it was the best time that I’ve ever had.”

The ghost of a smile flits across Virgil’s chapped lips. “That good, huh? I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Roman and Patton are just amazing, aren’t they?”

“Roman?”

“Yeah. Wait, shoot, I’m not supposed to say that.” Alarm briefly darkens Virgil’s expression, but in the next instant it’s disappeared again. Whatever mistake he just made, he appears to be too tired to care. “Ah, well, secret’s out. Yeah, that’s the enchanter’s real name.”

Logan doesn’t understand. “But the sign says —”

“Yeah, I know what the sign says, I designed it. You didn’t think he was actually named Everest Ethereum, did you?” Virgil makes an odd sound, a cross between a chuckle and a sigh. “Roman just wanted a really fancy stage name and wouldn’t leave me alone until I changed it. I mean, at least it’s not as ridiculous as ‘Sir Squiggles the Brave.’ Don’t laugh.”

Logan arches a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I first heard it, too.”

“Okay, I know that you aren’t insulting Sir Squiggles,” a familiar voice interrupts their discussion. Logan and Virgil look up to see Everest — no, Roman, Logan corrects himself — standing in front of them, velvet robes and all. “Especially because you named our hamster that very same thing barely a week after shooting it down for me.”

One of Roman’s arms is slung affectionately around a giggling Patton’s shoulder. He uses the other to gather Virgil up in a tight hug.

“Hey, gross, let go of me! You’re gonna get your sweat from the show all over my new hoodie, Prince Underarm-stink,” Virgil splutters, though Logan notes that he doesn’t make any actual effort to extricate himself from the embrace as he continues to complain loudly.

Roman lets go of Patton to plant a kiss directly into Virgil’s purple hair, who suddenly goes silent. “Good to see you too, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.”

“Ugh, you are the literal worst,” Virgil tries, but the fact that he’s laughing takes away most of the insult’s sting.

Roman replies confidently, “Shut up, you love me.” And he proceeds to shut him up thoroughly with kiss after passionate kiss, until the man has been reduced to nothing more than a blushing puddle in Roman’s arms.

Logan shifts uncomfortably. He feels like he’s intruding on a very intimate moment. Apparently Patton notices, because a moment later, he grabs his shoulders and very deliberately turns Logan away from the awkward scene and towards him.

“It’s Logan, right?” Patton asks, dropping his arms. This catches Logan off-guard; he didn’t think that Patton would remember him. He nods. “Ever gone up on stage before?”

“No, never.”

“You were really brave to step up onto the stage tonight, you know. That takes guts. It’s always especially scary the first time.” Patton blows a wayward blonde curl out of his face, looking at Logan with interest. “You didn’t seem to be too worried, though.”

“Well, why would I be?” says Logan quizzically. “All I had to do was follow a few simple instructions. That’s hardly something to worry about.”

Patton looks surprised, but only for a moment. Then he starts to laugh.

Logan isn’t totally sure what he said or did that Patton finds so funny, but whatever it is, he doesn’t regret it at all. Frankly, he would be perfectly content to do nothing but listen to Patton’s bubbly laughter for the rest of his life.

“Wow. You know, it sounds so much simpler when you put it that way!” Patton tells Logan once he’s recovered enough to form words again. “Public speaking? Easy peasy, you’re just reading words off a teleprompter. Building a house? Just following the blueprints. Programming the next big social media app? Just writing a few lines of code. Painting the Mona Lisa? All you’ve gotta do is —” he’s starting to snicker again — “is — is put paint on a canvas!” And then he’s off again, laughing, laughing until he’s gasping for breath, laughing with so much joy and mirth that Logan wants to laugh too.

Because even though he doesn’t understand what the joke was or what a teleprompter or a social media app or a Mona Lisa is, he understands that Patton is carefree and smiling and it’s because of him.

How wonderful.

A minute passes, then two, before Patton is finally all laughed out. By this time, Virgil and Roman have separated and are staring at Logan so intently that Logan starts to wonder if there’s perhaps something on his face.

Fortunately, Roman speaks up then, and his words reassure Logan that nothing is wrong. “I’m impressed, specs. The necktie and button-up shirt had me thinking you were bound to be a pretty boring guy — no offense — but it looks like I misjudged you, hmm? Anyone who can make Patton laugh like that is definitely worth my time. And I don’t say that lightly.”

“Roman,” cautions Virgil. “You’re starting to sound like an entitled brat.”

“Excuse you, I am not!”

“Definitely entitled,” Logan mutters. The words come out louder than he meant them to.

Virgil’s face lights up as he pokes Roman playfully in the arm. “Ha! Hear that, Ro? Even he agrees!” He turns to Logan in approval. “You know, I like you.”

Roman huffs, putting a perfectly manicured hand to his chest. “You’re both just jealous of me.”

“Kiddos! Play nice!” It’s Patton this time, swooping in to play mediator before Virgil and Roman can take their play-fighting any further. Logan sends Patton a silent thank-you as Virgil rolls his eyes fondly.

“Okay, yep. That we are, Roman. You got us.” This seems to pacify Roman, who allows his hand to fall back down to his side. Logan is grateful for the comfortable silence that follows.

Said silence doesn’t last very long, though. After just a moment, Roman speaks up again. “Pardon me, Logan, I hope you don’t mind my asking. Where are you from?” Seeing Logan’s confusion, Roman adds, “I mean, did you move here from another country or something? Your accent, it’s one that I don’t recall ever hearing before. And trust me, I would remember if I had.”

“I… have an accent?” says Logan, unable to mask his surprise.

“It’s very subtle,” jumps in Patton reassuringly. “I didn’t even notice, actually. Roman just has a bit of a knack for these things.”

Hm. Well. Considering how Logan lived in a completely separate dimension only a few hours ago, he supposes that probably shouldn’t be that surprising to learn. He doesn’t say this out loud, of course — the three of them would definitely think him crazy if he claimed that he’d come from an alternate dimension where no one believes in science and magic is a regular, everyday kind of thing.

Instead, Logan vaguely replies, “Oh, you’ve probably never heard of the place where I come from. It’s pretty far away.” Which technically is not a lie, unless the space-time continuum works in a very different way from how he thinks it does. Before any of them can ask him for more details, Logan adds, “In fact, I’ve scarcely been in this city of yours for a full day.”

“Ooh! On vacation, are ya?” asks Patton.

“Actually… no. I’m looking to settle down somewhere here.” It’s not until the words have left his mouth that Logan realises how true they are. He doesn’t want to leave the city. “It’s been, well, challenging, adjusting to the knowledge that I’m living somewhere completely unfamiliar. Especially since it wasn’t exactly my decision. I —” He cuts himself off, unsure why he’s confiding in these near-strangers. “I’m sorry, this is probably too much information, isn’t it?”

Roman replies quickly. “No, no, don’t worry. You’re not TMI’ing.”

“I’m not… TMI’ing?”

“Yeah. Like, TMI, but used as a verb.” Roman clarifies, not very helpfully.

“What’s TMI?”

“You know, like… too much information? It’s an acronym.”

“Oh, I see.” That must be a new vocabulary word from this dimension, then. Logan grabs his notebook from out of his back pocket and scribbles that down.

Virgil squints. “Are you making a flashcard?”

“No. Yes.” Logan coughs. “Not important. Are you quite certain that I’m not, er… TMI’ing, as you say?”

“Yes, we are quite certain,” says Patton, straightening his spine and imitating Logan’s posture. He giggles. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Well, there isn’t much else to say. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s it, really. I haven’t done anything exciting yet; I haven’t yet figured out where I’m going to sleep tonight, even,” Logan admits, sliding his notebook back into his pocket. “But to be quite frank with you, sudden change is hardly a new concept for me, anyway. It’s been a while since I was able to hold onto living quarters for more than half a year at most. So you needn’t worry about me.”

The silence that follows is far from a comfortable one.

Eventually, Virgil is the first to speak. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Logan, but… from the way you just described your life in the past, it sounds like you never really felt like you fit in anywhere. And if that’s the case, then I’d honestly say that this change might be for the better. You can move on now, you know?”

“Virgil’s right,” Patton pipes up. “Why not try taking a look at what’s on the horizon, instead? Keep exploring! Don’t just tolerate change, embrace it! Get out there and meet some new people, ya know? In fact, I think you’ve already got that last one in the bag,” finishes Patton meaningfully, gesturing around at himself, Roman, and Virgil.

Roman nods, looking thoughtful. “Ah, it’s just like I always like to say: leave the past in the past, make a plan of attack. Start looking forward and stop looking back.”

“Roman, you’ve literally never said that.”

“Oh, hush, Northern Down-snore.”

Virgil sticks out his tongue.

“Ahem. Anyway. Logan, to welcome you to Florida, I’d like to offer you the best gift you could possibly get. A formality, of course, since I’m already certain that you will accept.” Roman pauses dramatically. “Would you like my phone number?”

Phone?

Logan sighs heavily. He’s getting sick and tired of hearing words he doesn’t understand.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid I don’t own a… phone.”

Virgil’s mouth falls open. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replies Logan crisply. “I’ve never made a joke in my entire life.”

“Oh. Oh, my sweet cheese pastries. In this day and age, you don’t have a phone? Seriously, where did you even come from?” Roman says, scandalised. Without waiting for an answer, he moves on. “This simply will not do. Logan, how in the name of a forest fairy’s hairy armpits do you expect to survive out here without a phone?”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No, no, don’t apologise to me.” Roman rubs his forehead. “Logan, this is unbelievable. Okay, tell you what. I always carry an extra phone around with me, just in case. I’ve decided that you will be taking that phone with you when you leave the theatre today.”

“What? Oh, no no, you don’t have to do that,” Logan protests.

“Don’t even try to argue with me, Logan. It’s an old model, but it’ll serve you well enough until you can buy a phone for yourself. And it’s already got all of our contact information in there and everything!” Roman suddenly stops. “Oh, but… I just remembered I left it at home today. Hmm. You don’t have any plans for the evening, do you?”

Logan shakes his head, dazed.

“Perfect! Everything’s coming up roses, you see? Stick around a little while, then; I just need to get out of this heavy bathrobe here and then the three of us will be heading back to our apartment. You can come with. I’ll give you my — your — phone, and then you’ll be free to go. Or,” Roman pauses and exchanges a look with Virgil and Patton, then continues, “if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you’re welcome to spend the night at our place. There’s a pullout bed in the couch. It’s not exactly a luxury mattress, but it’s comfortable enough.”

“Roman!” hisses Virgil. “You can’t just invite people into our house like that! Like, obviously I’m cool with Logan staying over, but… that’s a really creepy move, dude.” Virgil turns to Logan. “Sorry about him.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, Roman gets fired up a lot — hang on, what did you say?”

Logan shrugs. “I said, I don’t mind.” And it’s true; he doesn’t. In fact, Logan is absolutely blown away by the incredible kindness he’s just been shown. These three young men only learned about his situation moments ago, and now they’re offering him a place to stay and a ‘phone’, free of charge? It all seems almost too good to be true.

Logan opens his mouth to tell Roman something along the lines of thanks, but no thanks, but stops. His only other option, he realises, is to make the long trek back into the forest and along the path, then stumble around with no mana until he can find that abandoned warehouse again. Which sounds less than ideal. Who knows what might be hiding in the dark?

Fortunately, Patton’s voice breaks into Logan’s thoughts before his imagination can answer that question. “So?”

Logan pushes up his glasses. “You’d be willing to let me stay the night with you, just like that?”

“Absolutely,” replies Patton firmly.

“Well, if you’re certain, then…” Logan is aware that this is most likely exactly how most kidnappings begin. But then, there are far worse fates than getting kidnapped by three beautiful young men the same age as him. And he really doesn’t have much of a choice. Logan swallows his pride and nods. “Then, thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this —”

“Don’t worry about it, Logan,” beams Patton. “I’m just glad you’re not going to spend your first night in Florida alone.” Virgil nods. “Seriously, it’s no sweat. You don’t need to repay us with anything.”

“We-ell…” Three sets of heads turn towards Roman as he makes a vague gesture, flourishing a long, crimson sleeve. “There is one thing.”

Logan feels his heart plummet into his shoes. Of course there’s a catch.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” protests Roman. “I’m not about to make you polish our bathroom with a toothbrush or anything; I’m no evil stepmother. All I ask is this: once you’ve found a place to live and gotten all settled in, you give us a call.”

As Patton gasps and Virgil’s eyes widen in understanding, Roman grins.

“Let us all take you out on a date sometime, yeah?”

[vagrantblvrd]

A Better Place to Land (1/1)

Summary: Gavin’s been in trouble before, but nothing like this.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for hacker!Gavin running into the Fake AH Crew, :D?

AO3

Nature of his line of work and all. Up until this point he’s been fortunate enough that no one’s been able to identify him, just think of him as an anonymous figure on the other end of a phone call or internet connection.

Granted, there had been the situation in England that made coming to the US seem like a good idea. And that other situation about a year or so later that led Meg to his door and so on. A few close calls since then, but really, nothing like this.

Stumbling over a pile of secrets left sitting around where just anyone could find them and realizing too late how important they were. The kind of idiots who’d left said secrets all but unattended discovering someone (Gavin) had found them, and now-

Well.

Now there are people running about the city looking for him. Nasty little smirks and this look in their eyes like they’re going to enjoy collecting on his bounty. (Dead or alive, or so it goes, and dead is always easier for their sort.)

The worst bit is that there’s nothing impersonal to it at all, with them. No “just business and no hard feelings”, because that he could tolerate. Understand a bit better, but the ones who get sent after him all tend to be of the twisted sort who like their jobs a little too much to be considered wholly sane.

He doesn’t feel nearly as bad as he ought to then, when he catches them in his little traps around the city. The ones he leads straight into the hands of hostile gangs or the police. (Both of which are notoriously territorial and tend to shoot first and ask questions later in this city.)

It works out for a bit, although it’s inconvenient as all hell. Has him running about all over the city and it’s exhausting. So it’s no surprise at all when his luck runs out on him in the figure of the Vagabond and his little friend with appalling fashion sense. (Rimmy something, and he hopes for his sake it’s not his given name, because that would just be cruel.)

They’ve run him to a roadside motel outside the city. First place he’s had time to get more than an hour of sleep at a time and stepping off point to leave Los Santos and his troubles there behind. Maybe go back to England or take Meg up on her offer to cause a little mischief across Europe for a bit, but it looks like those plans aren’t going to happen after all.

(Point of pride, stupid as it is, that he’s led them in circles around the city as long as he has. Cat and mouse and a ruined car or two for them that made it costly for them, although that might come back on him soon enough.)

“Well then, that’s that, is it?” Gavin says, still half asleep because he’s been on the move for days now and exhaustion finally caught up to him.

That, and the bullet graze from some bastard a few days ago.

Caught Gavin with his guard down, and he’s still annoyed about that one because it makes running far more painful. (He suspects it might be infected with the way he feels, all tired and slow and stupid and aching all over.)

The Vagabond stares at him. Tall, dark, and menacing in his ridiculously effective outfit as he blocks the only escape route in the room while Rimmy-whatsit pokes around Gavin’s laptop.

Every so often he’ll look over at Gavin like he thinks Gavin will up and hand over his passwords because the Vagabond’s looming over him. (To be fair, it’s a good intimidation tactic, but Gavin’s seen better.)

This wouldn’t be Gavin’s choice of places to die – unbelievably drafty and the carpeting is some ungodly pattern - but he suppose most people don’t get a say in that sort  of thing.

Gavin opens his mouth to say something, anything really, because all this silence is unnerving, when a third person bursts through the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, c'mon, we have to leave. Travis’ goons are on their way here. Grab the little shitweasle and let's get the fuck out of here!”

Gavin frowns, because ‘shitweasel’ is a new one, isn’t it  - but the Vagabond’s already moving, Pulling Gavin to his feet as he jams a gun against his side.

The new figure starts packing up Gavin’s gear and he catches what looks like a snarling wolf’s head on the back of his jacket as he moves past.

The Vagabond is recognizable enough, and he’s been known to work with others in the past, most notably Rimmy-whatsit.

It’s the one with the wolf on his back that really brings home the amount of trouble Gavin’s found himself in because he must be Mogar, and everyone in the city knows he’s a Fake. (There are rumors starting to make the rounds that the Fakes have managed to snare the Vagabond somehow, and Mogar’s presence is rather damning.)

Gavin’s still coming to terms with that realization, which is why he reacts without thinking when he sees Mogar and the other one packing up his laptop and gear carelessly.

“Hey, be careful with that!” Gavin snaps, and gets a little shake from the Vagabond as a warning.

“Could you not?” the Vagabond asks, first thing Gavin’s heard him say this whole time.

Mild enough, but the hand around Gavin’s arm tightens in time with the pointed  jab of the gun in his ribs, and right, right.

Not really the time.

Gavin ducks his head, fingers twitching as he watches the others treating his gear without the necessary care in their haste to clear out.

He gets shoved into the back of a car idling in front of the motel. Dark red and armored from the looks of her, and Rimmy-whatsit gets in beside him.

Unspoken threat in the flash of his teeth, and Gavin plays meek and mild because he’s not in the best position at the moment and it pays to be underestimated.

========

They take him to a warehouse and leave him in a room tied to a chair with Rimmy-whatsit keeping an eye on him.

Mirrored Aviators and that damnable cowboy hat and perfectly neutral expression on his face. Not even a twitch when Gavin tries to engage him in idle chatter, and that’s just disheartening.

There’s a chair sitting opposite Gavin, and he feels tired just looking at it knowing what’s to come.

Offers and incentives and when those don’t work, out come the threats. When those don’t work, they’ll start with the so-called “demonstrations” that tend to leave scars. It never changes, as though all these people are working off the same script. No originality to them at all.

With Rimmy-whatsit doing his best impression of a statue, Gavin has four blank walls to stare out as he considers the situation he’s in and all the ways it could go badly for him if he doesn’t cooperate with them. (Better than it could be, because the Fakes, at least, can be reasoned with.)

At some point Mogar comes in with a medical kit and sees to the bullet graze on Gavin’s leg. There’s angry little scowl on his face, and this snarl in his voice as he looks at the makeshift bandage.

“The fuck is this?”

Gavin shrugs as well as he’s able given his binds.

“Well,” he says, not quite sure what to make of the fact they’re giving him medical care. “Not like I could just pop down to the store to get medical supplies with you lot looking for me, now could I?”

It’s not just the Fakes Gavin’s talking about, but they’re the ones who gave him the most trouble. Never fell for any of his tricks or traps, and that had been more than a little annoying.

Mogar growls, and Gavin has to bite back a laugh because he’s not sure it would be appreciated at the moment.

“Well good job on that one idiot, because it’s infected.”

Hmm, yes, it does seem to be, doesn’t it.

Red and angry and foul enough that Gavin can’t look at it without feeling nauseous, but Mogar’s careful about it as he cleans the graze and bandages it. Sits back on his heels and gives Gavin this odd look as though he wants to say something, but isn’t sure how to go about it.

“Thank you,” Gavin says, because his grandfather taught him manners, and there’s no reason not to use them now when Mogar’s shown him unexpected kindness.

“Let one of us know if it gets worse,” Mogar says, disgruntled look on his face as he leaves.

========

Gavin spends another hour mapping various water stains on the ceiling before he decides enough time has passed that it won’t seem too suspicious to request a bathroom break.

Close enough to the truth, and he didn’t get a good look around when they bundled him in here earlier.

He’s not even sure where the damn place is located thanks to the armored car. (Helpful things, those, but by their nature not great for taking in the scenery, what with the armor plating over the windows and such.)

Rimmy-whatsit gives Gavin a deeply suspicious look, but apparently would rather Gavin try something stupid than make a mess while he’s stuck guarding him.

Gavin gets a brief look around on the way. Sees empty storage racks forming aisles on one side and a space for vehicles on one side. (No mystery what the warehouse is normally used for then, although the state of it implies it’s new property for the Fakes or hasn’t been used in some time.)

They happen upon the Vagabond and Mogar along the way, the two of them arguing with someone over speakerphone.

Rimmy-whatsit shrugs at them as they pass by, and then they reach the restroom.

“Don’t fucking think about trying anything,” Rimmy-whatsit warns as Gavin steps inside.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gavin says brightly, and quickly does his business as he contemplates what he knows.

Honestly, it’s not a hopeless situation.

While these three are hardly thrilled with him after what he’s put them through this past little while, they’ve treated him well. Gone so far to give him medical treatment, even, and that’s promising.

The warehouse is laid out about as he’d suspected and the lack of noise filtering through makes him think it’s somewhat isolated. At the very least not in a high traffic area, which -

“You done in there?”

Gavin makes a face and looks around for something to dry his hands with and realizes too late there isn’t anything at all. He settles for shaking water off his hands best he can and opens the door to see Rimmy-whatsit eyeing him suspiciously.

“You’re out of paper towels,” Gavin says brightly, and holds his hands up.

Rimmy-whatsit sighs as he grabs Gavin’s arm and gives him a gentle push to get him moving.

“Sorry to hear that, pal. Sounds rough.”

=========

Gavin’s in the middle of formulating an escape plan. Terribly risky with a minimal chance of success, but awfully tempting all the same, when the door opens.

A pair of familiar figures walk in with the Vagabond and the others taking up flanking positions. (A bit overkill, really, considering Gavin’s not much of a threat at the moment.)

Ramsey and Patillo, and oh, what a day it’s been.

Gavin smiles, this tired little thing as Los Santos’ very own Kingpin strolls up to him, head tilted just so.

“You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the run around?” he asks, like Gavin’s not at all what he expected, and honestly, Gavin gets that a lot.

He blames Vinewood.

All those dashing actors playing the parts of hackers in terribly cliché movies which just leads to disappointment when people meet him.

Gavin just looks at him, because first off, rude, and secondly -

Well, it’s not like this is going to go well for him, so he’s not about to make this easy on the bastard.

The corner of Ramsey’s mouth ticks up in this amused little smile as he glances to the Vagabond and the others.

“Do you realize that these assholes have been trying to find you for a while now?”

Oddly enough, yes.

Gavin is very much aware of that fact.

He’s lost the use of several safehouses and boltholes, called in favors on top of favors to slow them down. Feed them false information to buy Gavin just a little more time, and it’s been a bit of a bother, overall.

“Have they?” he asks, mimicking Ramsey. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Patillo snorts, smiling placidly when Ramsey shoots him a look.

“Jack?”

Patillo shakes his head, little smile on his face as he takes a step back, fading into the background, and Gavin goes very, very still.

He’s been warned about Patillo.

Ramsey’s right-hand man and the one who handled the less glamorous aspects of a crew like the Fakes in its early days. Not much else is known about him aside from the largely unhelpful bits about him being an amazing pilot. Said to be quiet and mild-mannered in contrast to certain other members of his crew. (Until he’s not.)

Ramsey turns back to Gavin with this look on his face. Gaze dropping to the bandage on his leg and Gavin -

“Michael looked at that for you?” he asks, sounding as though he’s genuinely concerned Gavin’s being taken care of while they have him tied to a chair in a warehouse.

(Such a gracious host.)

Gavin glances at Mogar – Michael? He’s scowling a little even now, and it’s charming.

Such a grumpy bastard, that one. Snappish and snarlish and surprisingly kind under it all.

“He was lovely,” Gavin says with a little smile tacked on. “They’ve all been very, very lovely.”

The strangest thing about it is that they have, really. Despite the chase Gavin led them on and little inconveniences (somewhat annoying that that’s all amounted to in the end) he threw at them they’ve been more than hospitable.

Ramsey eyes him as though he’s trying to decide if Gavin’s manage to hit his head somewhere along the way or if he’s always been the way he is.

“Have they now,” he says, and now the man’s mimicking Gavin mimicking him, as if things couldn’t get any more bizarre. “Interesting.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and the whole thing must be too much for the others because -

“For fuck’s sake, get on with it, Geoff. We don’t have all fucking day for you two to dick around.”

“Michael has a point,” Ramsey says, and it looks like they’re finally going to get to the matter at hand.

Ramsey sits down in the chair across from Gavin and leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together loosely as he studies Gavin. Calm and relaxed and very much in control.

And Gavin -

He’s not exactly at his best right now, really. Tired and worn down, bit battered and bruised and that nasty bullet graze that’s made matter worse for him by becoming infected in spite of his best efforts.)

“You wouldn’t happen to be in the market for a job, would you?” Ramsey asks, definitely not at all what Gavin was expecting from him.

Gavin stares at him.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but the city’s in an uproar at the moment.” Ramsey pauses for dramatic effect. “Word on the street is that you’re the reason.”

Not so much Gavin himself as what he found. Bout of idle curiosity and the kind of luck that lands him in all kinds of interesting situations.

People always react badly when they realize their dirty little secrets aren’t quite as secure as they’d like. Go to great lengths in order to prevent them from being exposed, do all kinds of terrible things. (Especially politicians when they happen to have close ties with criminal organizations they’d rather the public not know about, such as Travis.)

Ramsey smiles, spreads his hands as he lays out an offer.

Contract work, by the sounds of it. Help them with a situation their pet hacker is having difficulties with – and no wonder when it involves the IAA’s database – and some intel that requires finesse to acquire.

“You might have noticed,” Ramsey says,  wry twist to his mouth as he gestures at the others. “These assholes wouldn’t know subtle it if bit them in the ass.”

The Fake AH Crew do have a reputation for being a bit...rambunctious.

“A bit, yes,” Gavin says, because his third favorite safehouse went up in flames thanks to them.

Ramsey snorts, and it’s an interesting process to watch the Kingpin facade melt away to reveal the man underneath it all.

“Travis isn’t going to forget about you,” he says, as though they’re old friends catching up after a long time apart. “He’s got a long memory, and with as many...supporters he has in our line of work, he’s got the resources.”

And the will, because the man’s making a bid for city.

Thinks the title of mayor would suit him wonderfully, and after that there are higher seats of power he plans to aim for. All of those dirty little secrets Gavin found would ruin him if they ever got out.

Gavin says nothing, waiting to see -

“We’re not exactly fans of the man ourselves,” Ramsey says with a grimace.

They wouldn’t be, would they. Not when Travis has been exceedingly vocal about “dealing with” the Fake AH Crew, has made it something of the basis of his campaign.

“I wouldn’t think so, no,” Gavin says, and knows what Ramsey wants.

Travis’ secrets, and in exchange they’ll offer him protection.

It’s not the worst idea, really.

They’re known for being rambunctious, yes, but also for dealing fairly with those who deal fairly with them. Reputations for looking after their own, and little love for bastards like Travis and his ilk. (And somehow they’ve managed to do what no one else in this damned city has by somehow getting the Vagabond on board with them.)

At the very least, it will prove to be interesting.

“The IAA’s database you said?” Gavin asks, because he’s never tried something with that level of security to it.

“They think they own us,” Ramsey says, little flash of teeth to show what he thinks about that. “Keep coming to us to fix their mistakes, and it’s getting a little old.”

Oh, there’s clearly more to it than just that. (Too much anger in the man’s eyes for something as simple as that.)

Gavin should think about it, consider his options and all, but -

“Sounds interesting,” Gavin says, because he could do worse for himself than see what this lot have to offer, where it might lead. “I wouldn’t mind giving things a try.”

========

Complications

[dhyanposts]

How to Play Guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

How to play guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

Learn the way to play guitar - Today we learn how to play guitar easily both how you played the guitar or how to learn the guitar, then you're on the proper post, today we'll tell you ways to play the guitar. Both of those posts wanted to write down about an equivalent day but today I'm getting to share this post with you. A lot of individuals have told us that we should always share the tactic and method of playing guitar with us and also tell us the way to learn to play guitar, we took these decisions and today we are sharing this post with you. We hope that today's post will sound and you'll skill to play guitar. Both of today's young boys like playing guitar and everybody wants to play guitar, but sadly, they are doing not know the tactic of playing guitar. Some people are keen on playing tabla, some need to read something, but some people wish to play guitar and that they want to play guitar. Buy Guitar From Here

Guitar Kaise Sikhe (How to play guitar)

People feel that playing the guitar is extremely much a task, but there's nothing like that within the world if an individual can do everything and if somebody else can do this work and this is often only a guitar, you'll only mention it. you'll learn how to play it easily and if you read this post given to us completely and till the top.

How to Play Guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

The Types of the guitars

First of all, allow us to tell you ways many guitars are popular and the hottest guitar is Acoustic and the second is electrical guitar. The guitar gets a touch bit costlier and therefore the guitar may be a bit expensive but if you learn to play guitar then you'll also play the electrical guitar. But if you're absolutely sherry and you are doing not skills to play the guitar in the least, then we'll tell you that you simply can learn to play with guitar, it's easier than playing the electrical guitar. And every beginner should learn from guitar, so today we'll also tell you the tactic and method of playing guitar. But before that, we share photos of both the guitars and can tell you about the guitars, which you'll get information about the guitars. 1. Acoustic guitar parts

  2. Electric guitar parts

So both of you'll see in both of the above images, check out all the columns and you recognize all the parts carefully then read what we'll tell you, you'll find it very easy to know. So now you recognize that there are guitar parts and that we tell you that you simply can play any song or song from the guitar, only you'll got to play it and zip else.

Learn from which class to Play Guitar

If you are doing not the skills to play the guitar in the least, then we speak to you and every one the beginners that you simply can do that with a wooden guitar and Learn how to play the electrical guitar the maximum amount as once you play the wooden guitar. you'll learn that you simply can try your hand on guitar also, there's no room in it. But once you are learning to play the guitar, you ought to only hear the guitar. First of all, we would like to inform you that your guitar is formed entirely of wood and therefore the wires that are attached thereto are of copper. Your guitar consists of a complete of 4 stars, the highest of which is that the very pearl which makes a really loud sound then the celebs become thin.

Complete information about Guitar the way to play guitar for Beginners

1. Headstock - Your chord wire is connected to the headstock and is tightened in bridgepins. 2. Tuners - With the item of tuners you'll tighten the wires and proper the tunning of your guitar. If your tunning isn't correct, then once you perform the guitars, the guitars won't sound properly because the strings aren't set correctly. If you are doing not skills to perform the tuner guitars, then there's no got to panic because from Google you'll fine tune your guitars with the item of the guitars tunning app. 3. Fretboard - Fretboard is simply like your guitar and here you've got frets that are at rock bottom of the wire and once you press these wires into different frets a special tune comes out. 4. Position markers - These are white points that tell you which of them fret you're on and it'll get to ascertain you on the 3rd, 5th, 4th, 9th and 12th fret. 5. Pick Guard - Pick guard is that the place of your guitar where you hold your hand and play the guitar together with your finger item 4. hole - The hole is that the lifetime of your guitar and once you tell the celebs of the guitar, then the sound from this hole comes out and if you are doing not have a hole in your guitar then your voice also won't get right. Both of those are the most parts of your guitar that help your guitar the maximum amount because it plays and make sounds from your guitar. How to arrest the tactic of arrest Now it comes then the proper thanks to catching the guitar is that you simply won't be ready to play the guitar properly until you catch the guitar and first of all you've got to take a seat on a cushty cushion and place the guitar together with your chest and stomach. need to stick And then you've got to grab the fretboard of the guitar's neck from the ledge and therefore the right is to put it at the rock bottom of the guitar hole in order that you'll play the guitar's string comfortably. The most pearl wire of the guitars should be upwards and therefore the thinnest wire of your feet and this is often the proper thanks to catching the guitars. Now you've got to play on the fretboard of the guitars from your lap and move the chords from the right and once you do that, the voice will come from your guitars. Buy Guitar From Here Set the chord strings Now that you simply skills to catch the guitar, now let's examine the way to set the string of the guitar and as we told you that you simply can take the guitar tuner, which you'll download from Google is For your information, i would like to inform you that once you tighten a string, the sound are going to be tuned and once you hit the wire loosely, the sound doesn't sound nearly as good and you'll set the chord string by yourself. Ho The guild consists of a complete of 4 strings that we call E, A, D, G, B, and E because the thickest wire, E and therefore the thinnest wire using E and every one these stars correctly. tuning are often removed If you would like , you'll also use the pick to ring the celebs and it'll do your utmost to urge the precise sound. A pick may be a small piece of rock that helps ring the guitar's string.

Second Method to Play Guitar

Guitar Bajana Kaise Sikhen | Learn how to play the guitar (The way to Learn Play Guitar) In the world, everyone likes music and everybody has their own choice, like a number of the tabla, some just like the drum, and a few just like the flute. many sorts of instruments are wont to make music. one among them may be a guitar. The guitar is that the most liked instrument within the world of music, which is why every concert-goer wants to learn to play the guitar. The guitar usually consists of 6 strings with the assistance of which the musical sound is emitted from it. to urge the melody of the music from its strings, the fingers and pick (Guitar Pick or Plectrum) are used.

With the assistance of a guitar, you'll make any quiet music out. If you wish the guitar too, but you are doing not the skills to play the guitar then don't worry because today we are supplying you with detailed information about the melody of music from the guitar. Things required: A guitar A pick A tuner Know the guitar: Before playing any instrument, it's important to understand it, so you ought to choose only the great guitar. to urge a melodious sound from a guitar, you ought to choose a wooden guitar, also as make sure it's copper strings. you ought to note that the wire is sticking to the pegs and is connected to the headstock. The neck of the guitar should even be of wood. It should be flat from one side and round from the opposite side. there's also a hole within the back from which the sound comes out. If you're using guitar, then it'll have amplifiers. - Hold the guitar: After knowing the guitar, you ought to come to carry it in order that you'll use it properly. to try to do this, you initially sit comfortably during a chair, then hold the guitar neck together with your |along with your"> together with your left and hold rock bottom of the guitar with your right in such how that your fingers will shake the guitar strings easily. Can give confine mind that the guitar touches your chest and abdomen and therefore the thinnest chord of the guitar is towards the world and the pearl string is towards the highest. Your left has got to do two tasks, first - it holds the neck of the guitar and keeps it steady, and second its fingers are helpful in producing the sound of the strings above the guitar within the guitar.

Learn how to play guitar

Tie the strings of the guitar. you've got learned to carry the guitar, but would you be happy to play guitar that doesn't have any pleasure in taking note of the tune? No no So let's Play how to tie guitar strings. The guitar consists of 6 strings and every chord is given a reputation like E, A, D, G, B, and E (from thickest to thinnest). So if you would like to extend the sound of any string, then pull the string and tie it and if you would like a lighter tone, then you allow the wire to lose. If you would like, you'll also tie each wire separately. Whenever you tie the strings of your guitar and choose the sound, there should be peace within the room. If you would like, you'll set your tune alongside the melody of the pianos. Use of the pick: If you employ the pick for enjoying the guitar, then you hold it together with your thumb and therefore the finger near it. remove about 1 centimeter from your finger and use it to shake between the celebs. you ought to use it carefully in order that it doesn't break any wires. Start playing: As we told you that a guitar has 6 strings, these strings are divided into 2 groups. Of these, C, A, G, E, and D are considered to be the most strings. Now you're taking a book and with its help practice to urge the melody of the music. confine mind that you simply must also practice it regularly. To get a hold of the tune, you initially practice pure music. You practice each chord to know the sound of every chord. confine mind that once you are playing the string, no other wires are buried downwards. To try, you ought to play all the strings within the rhythm for the raga. Buy Guitar From Here Finger pain: Every guitarist has got to undergo finger pain and this is often also true because rigorous exercises are required regularly to Learn guitar. there'll come a time once you won't be ready to bear this pain, but you ought to twiddle my thumbs. We are telling you some tips by which you'll get relief from the pain of your fingers. - How to Play Guitar – Learn to Play Guitar - How To Block Or Unblock Someone On Facebook: Android & Desktop - How To Convert Image To PDF For Free Using Mobile or Laptop: Easy Steps - How To Password Protect Documents And PDFs With Microsoft Office - How To Recover Deleted Emails In Gmail And Back to Inbox

How to Learn Play Guitar

After practicing the guitar, soak your fingers in cold water, ice, or apple vinegar. this provides relief to your fingers. - Make your mind hard and whenever you are feeling pain, then you say in your mind that you simply want to practice it more now. If you would like to extend your enthusiasm, you'll also put an image of your inspiration in your room. Fear doesn't cause your mental pain.

If you create your fingers hard, then albeit you are doing not feel pain, then you'll use rubbing alcohol for this. After practicing the guitar, keep your fingers in it a few times, you'll get relief and your fingers also will get stiff. Practice: The last task is your practice. The more you practice, the higher you'll play the guitar. For this, you retain trying to play some songs, initially remove the slow sound and slowly you reach the upper vocals. you'll also take help of the internet and you'll watch videos of learning guitar online or on youtube. Which is extremely helpful in teaching you guitar. Or if you would like, you'll take help from an honest music player within the beginning. Because they will teach you some such lessons which are very helpful in teaching you the guitar. Learning guitar isn't easy, but your vision helps you learn it quickly. within the beginning, you'll not get an honest tune, but don't be discouraged and trust in yourself to continue your efforts. you create the water fingers your strength. Slowly your fingers become full and conversant in the guitar strings and you're ready to learn to play the guitar. For the other help associated with learning guitar, you'll immediately get information by commenting below.

Third Method to Play Guitar

Learning to play guitar is a lot of fun, though playing chords could seem a touch intimidating initially. Fear not, it's not much different than playing single notes: you're just playing all of them at once! this text will walk you thru the method of understanding the fingering, and show you ways to play some common chords. Pull out your ax, and rock on! Learning to play guitar is a lot of fun, though playing chords could seem a touch intimidating initially. Fear not, it's not much different than playing single notes: you're just playing all of them at once! this text will walk you thru the method of understanding the fingering, and show you ways to play some common chords. Pull out your ax, and rock on!

Understanding Chords

Learn the strings. the simplest thanks to start is by becoming conversant with the strings on your guitar and the way they relate to your fingers. From this easier, we're getting to number them both. The strings on your guitar are numbered like this: Vertically, the strings are numbered 1 through 6, from highest pitch to lowest. Horizontally, the numbering is predicated on the fret positions. Note that when the directions say "put your first finger on the 3rd fret," meaning you really place your finger between the 2nd and 3rd fret. it is the string itself that must be in touch with the 3rd fret. Use this mnemonic to recollect which note each string is tuned to, from the lowest pitch (top string) to highest pitch (bottom string): Eat All Day, Get Big Easy. Buy Guitar From Here Number your fingers. Take a glance at your left , and picture you've got numbers stamped on your fingers. Your index is 1, your finger is 2, your annualry is 3, and your pinky finger is 4. Your thumb we'll call "T," but you'll not be using it for chords during this article. Learn the C chord. the primary chord we'll cover maybe a C chord—one of the foremost basic chords in music. Before we do, let's break down just what meaning. a correct chord, whether played on a piano, a guitar, or sung by well-trained mice, is just three or more notes sounded together. (Two notes are named a "diad," and while musically useful, isn't a chord.) Chords also can contain much more than three notes, but that's well beyond the scope of this text. this is often what a C chord seems like on the guitar: The lowest note is that the 3rd fret of the A string: C The next note up is played on the 2nd fret of the D string: E Note there's no finger on the G string. This string remains "open" when strumming a C. The highest note is played on the first fret of the B string: C The highest and lowest strings on the guitar aren't played for the essential C major chord. Try out the notes. Play each note within the chord, from low to high, one at a time. Take some time and be deliberate: depress firmly on the fret, and pluck the string. Let the note ring for as long as you'll, then move to subsequent note: Press your 3rd finger onto the 3rd fret of the A string, as indicated above, pluck, and let it ring until it fades out. you only played a C note. Press your 2nd finger onto the 2nd fret of the D string, then do the pluck-and-ring to play an E. Break time! Simply pluck the open, un-fingered G string. Press your 1st finger on the first fret of the B string, and let that C note sound loud! Play the notes, one at a time, a couple of times. When you're ready, sweep your pick or fingers across all four middle strings quickly. You've just played a C chord! It may sting a touch the primary few times you are doing it, but as you develop calluses, the pain goes away.

Learning More Chords

Expand your musical vocabulary. Playing a C chord is good , and it's definitely a gateway chord which will lead you into more interesting musical territory, but there's far more to music than that! Here are two other chords commonly used when playing in C Major. F, and G. Play a basic F chord like this: The notes in an F chord are F, A, and C. Note that the F and therefore the C are being played by an equivalent finger: the primary finger is placed across the first fret of both the first and 2nd strings. Read the full article

[removalssimonwjgi476-blog]

Not Known Factual Statements About All Removals

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[sroloc--elbisivni]

since i’ve found serenity

On 7/21/16, at 10:53 AM, Steph wrote: > I'm thinking about the Firefly au again

Since @secretlystephaniebrown​ has already heroically gotten Part 1 up and running, it’s my turn! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YA NERD

One year ago today Steph sent me a message about an au we'd previously tossed around that ended up (d)evolving into some seriously intense worldbuilding and Steph writing, what was it, 7k words in a week? XD

Originally we'd been planning on the Valhalla just replacing the Serenity but then I had to go and point out how much potential for FUN there was if they both existed. And then I had to write it.

Summary: Five conversations between the crews of the Valhalla and the Serenity. ao3

Carolina stares down at the Mahjong board for a long moment and dully flips over a tile at random before taking another swig of her beer.

This is entirely Donut’s fault. He has some crazy idea that she needs to interact more with people who aren’t her crew and had kicked her off as soon as they had set down for engine repairs. At least she’d dragged Wash with her after Tucker had gone to meet up with an old pilot school friend, and Tex had sworn that she knew a good, quiet bar.

Of course, Tex forgot—they all forgot—exactly what day it was.

There’s a scraping of chairs and a holler for the chatter and noise to shut up as one of the idiot Alliance fanatics who apparently frequents this bar—thank you, Tex—stands up for a toast.

Carolina tunes it out as Wash makes a careful selection and proceeds to clear half the board. Tex snorts under her breath as she sloshes her drink around the dusty cocktail glass she’d glared out of the bartender.

“Idiot.”

“Idiots have a right to speak, same as anybody else,” Carolina says, quietly. She’s been sitting on her coat for a long while now and is trying not to drink too fast to avoid going back up to the bar. Normally on U-Day she hunkers down, hides out, and waits for tempers to cool because both sides are all too happy to punch her in a fight.

Tex makes a rather impressive disgusted noise to express her thoughts on freedom of speech. Carolina flips over another tile and sighs when it turns out to be one that let her play a combination, dutifully turning over three more tiles and collecting them with another sigh.

“This is too sad to even mock,” Tex says. “Can we go back to the ship now?”

“Donut will just kick us out again,” Wash says with the weight of experience. “We might as well finish our—is that Zoë?”

Carolina looks over just in time to see the start of what looks like a very one-sided barfight consisting of, well, the bar against, of all people, Zoë Washburne and Malcolm Reynolds.

She and Tex trade looks. Tex cracks her knuckles, then her neck.

Carolina downs the rest of her beer and gets to her feet, shrugging on her coat.

Wash lets out an enormous sigh and sweeps the Mahjong tiles back into their case before hurling a glass at a drunkard’s head.

“Well, we can never come back here ever again.” Wash nudges some poor bastard on the floor with his foot.

Next to him, Reynolds stares at where Carolina and Tex are having fun taking on three fighters each. “What just happened?”

“I think we won a barfight.” Zoë had retrieved their hunk of muscle from where he’d been watching the show with an appropriate amount of fear.

“You can do that?”

Wash sees the bartender’s hand creeping for the transponder and sighs. “Not as such. Captain! We’re about to have company, quit playing with your food!”

Carolina takes out her last couple of opponents while Tex does something with a stool that will probably require a doctor’s care. Reynolds and the muscle wince.

“Don’t suppose your ship is close?”

Reynolds pulls out a transmitter, keeping one wary eye on the proceedings. “We’re having a bit of local color over here. A speedy pickup would not go amiss.”

The two captains spend the brief trip from the bar to the Valhalla warily eying each other across the cargo bay. Wash decides not to worry about it—as long as they aren’t shooting at each other, they’re already ahead of most of their past encounters.

The ship sets down finally, a bit bumpier than usual, and the door swings down, settling onto the dusty planet’s surface. The Valhalla is visible in the distance, and crossing the interim are—

Wash sighs quietly and returns his husband’s cheerful wave with a brief salute. Of course Tucker’s “old pilot school friend” would turn out to be Zoë’s husband. Of course.

Tex leaves immediately with only a quick nod goodbye, heading down the ramp at a brisk pace.

Carolina watches her go, and Wash can see as her gaze catches on Tucker and his friend, pulling her face into a thoughtful frown.

“Well, this has been fun. We should do this again sometime.” Reynolds seems far more amiable now that them leaving his ship is an immediate prospect.

“Maybe we should,” Wash replies, hoping to continue the friendly relations. His life will get much easier if he doesn’t have to worry about running up against this particular ship on a job. He can see that Zoë’s thinking the same thing.

“Maybe,” Carolina says, that frown lingering. “Say, Reynolds, did you get a new pilot?”

Wash doesn’t miss the look the captain swaps with his second, or the way Zoë’s face drops into something cold and hard.

“Might’ve.” Captain Reynolds’ tone stays very light, before changing to something very close to ‘intimidating.' “Might be none of your business.”

“Really.” Carolina’s gaze stays on Reynolds’ face, a clear challenge.

Never let it be said that Wash doesn’t know how to read a situation.

“Captain.” He waits until she looks at him before jerking his head towards the door. “We should go. Passengers might be getting antsy.”

She catches the hint and nods, before extending a hand to Reynolds.

“Thanks for the lift.”

Reynolds keeps his hands tucked firmly in his pockets and smirks. “My pleasure.”

Carolina’s lips thin as she withdraws her hand. Wash sighs in unison with Zoë.

Of course, the next time the two crews run across each other and certain secrets come to light, Wash will have to admit a certain sympathy for Reynolds’ desire to keep them out.

The Valhalla had learned all too well how hard it was keeping the Academy away.

Mal’s on a late-night circuit of Serenity when he finds York in the cargo hold, leaning on the railing and looking out over the empty space, lost in thought.

“Don’t you got your own ship to go to?” Mal asks, coming up next to him.

“Someone’s excited to see River again. It’s a bit louder than I’d prefer to be around right now, especially since I think she’s trying to get Tex to fight her.”

When Mal freezes, York is quick to reassure, “Tex knows better than to fight someone enhanced, much less someone enhanced who can predict her moves.” He pauses. “At least, I hope she does. I’ll wait to worry about it until after she comes to me for a drink.”

Mal can respect that. “Still doesn’t explain what brings you to my ship.”

“I like seeing new places. And it’s….intriguing, to look at the differences.” He shifts to the side, gesturing to a corner. “We’ve had the same crates of rubber boots stacked almost to the ceiling for about a year now. Client dropped the ball on picking them up, haven’t found anywhere to dump them yet. And over there—“ York points. “—actually, you can’t see it, because we’ve been covering it, but there are some scorch marks from when Carolina tried teaching Junior how to shoot. Tucker still doesn’t know about it.”

Mal snorts and finds himself leaning on the railing right next to York. “Don’t know what the hell she was thinking, taking a kid on board. Least we don’t got one of those.”

York hums, turning to face Mal. “Well, you know how it goes with crew.” There’s a smile playing around his lips.

Mal’s a bit taken aback. “Yeah, but I tend to make sure all of mine are old enough to see over the dash!”

York laughs. “Fair. Although if that’s all you want, we do keep a box around for Junior in case Tucker’s otherwise occupied.”

He sounds so earnest that Mal had to squint at him. “Do—you—no.”

York just smiles.

“Not even your captain is that fei hua.”

“If you say so.” York turns back to look at the hold, smile on his lips.

“I do say so! Gorram, your ship almost makes mine look sane!” Mal’s on the verge of laughter.

York grins in a way that suggests a smart remark is imminent, but ends up interrupted before he could speak.

“York.”

Both men turn around to see Inara, lovely in emerald tones, standing behind them. She doesn’t even nod at Mal, moving instead towards York.

He steps in gracefully to kiss her on both cheeks. “Inara Serra. You’re a vision, as always.”

“And you remain an inveterate charmer.” Her smiles brings out her dimples. “What brings you to the wilds of space?”

“I decided I ought to follow your example before the Guild could throw me out themselves. It’s definitely been an experience—you meet the most interesting people out here.” He glances at Mal, who’s too busy staring at him to catch the way Inara’s expression freezes.

“You do indeed.” Her voice is as pleasant and musical as always. “I’m afraid I was sent to find you—it seems that you’re needed back on your ship.”

York sighs. “And now I go to soothe the children’s ruffled tempers. It was lovely to see you, Inara.” He lets his gaze linger on Mal, who knows he’s staring and can’t stop himself. “Captain Reynolds.”

The way he walks back into the corridors of the ship is not quite an amble and not quite a glide, but it’s mesmerizing.

“York is known for his casual way of putting a client at ease,” Inara remarks, neutrally.

Mal manages to scrape some semblance of his thought processes back together. “Wait, you mean to tell me he’s a—“ he couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

The look Inara gives him is downright withering. “Sometimes. Malcolm Reynolds, you are the most dense man I have ever met.”

Mal wanders back out of the cargo hold with his head spinning after Inara stalks off.

’most dense man she’s ever met’ my sweet pistol. can’t blame a man for not catching on to something hasn’t been said.

Everyone knows Companions re supposed to look shiny and polished and regal. Like they know that mayors and lords would bow to kiss their feet if they fluttered their lashes. Like the only reason they don’t have the stars for gems is because the things don’t shine enough. Like her smile could hop right inside his head—

Mal grabs that thought and stomps on it as he turns into the kitchen. Point is, York doesn’t look like none of those things. York is loose-limbed and friendly and pulls you in before you could realize he was flirt—

Mal stiffens and changes course to grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it to the table.

Goddammit. The man had been—like it was a game—

“Mind if I join you?”

Mal looks up to see Church—the captain Church, not the craz—not the reader Church—standing in the doorway. He gestures absently with the bottle. “Be my guest.”

They share the glass in silence for a few minutes, before Mal blurts out his mind. “Turns out your renter knows my renter.”

She raises her eyebrows in a mild reaction and sips at her glass. “Both trained on Sihnon, didn’t they?”

She wasn’t even surprised. “Didn’t realize you were renting to a whore, ’s all,” he mutters.

Church sets her glass down with an audible clack. “Pardon?”

Mal stops with the glass halfway to his lips. “Uh.”

“Care to repeat that.” Her tone leaves absolutely no space for a question.

“No. No I do not.” Mal looks back at his glass.

He can feel when her gaze drops off him. “Smart move. I know we’re supposed to be making nice for the psychics and all, Reynolds, but if you call my friend a whore again, I’ll punch you in the face. For starters.”

Mal raises his eyebrows into his glass and waits to speak again. “He’s very…casual.”

“Part of his charm.”

“I think he was flirting with me.”

Church pauses with the bottle in her hand, so it seems like he had surprised her, but she continues without much disruption. “Also part of his charm. He’s a friendly person. Likes to make people comfortable.”

“Not ‘xactly what you’d expect of a—“ Her green eyes laser-focus on him. “…Companion.”

“Wouldn’t exactly expect a Companion to leave the Core, now, would you.”

“Grant ya that.”

“But he’s definitely…unexpected.” Something like a smile curs at her lips. “When I was first looking to rent the shuttle, he showed up looking like he’d wandered in from further out and I almost threw him off my ship. Told him I would only deal with the renter and no go-between.” Church shakes her head. “Thought I’d screwed myself out of my only chance to rent the shuttle when he told me who he was.”

“Well, I’m sure you could have made up the difference somehow.” Her roots have never been a secret. Alliance probably falls over themselves to hand her jobs.

“You think?” Her voice takes on a sharp note. “I’ve got more hands, Reynolds. More mouths to feed. I can’t run the lean routes with this many people, I can’t run the risky routes with a child onboard, and I can’t run the shady routes with the Alliance watching me like a hawk for the slightest slip. I started out with nothing but a barely-clean record, cessations pay, and my cat. Don’t take it upon yourself to tell me what about me you’re sure of. Captain.” As she goes along, her Core accent becomes crisper and crisper until you could slice vegetables on it.

Once again, Mal looks away first.

“Guess I never figured that the trouble with being a turncoat is that neither side wants you,” he mutters, after another long silence.

Church snorts and downs the rest of her glass. “Astute as ever, Reynolds."

Between them, the two captains manage to finish off the bottle of whiskey in a mutual silence. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it is peaceful.

When she’s drained the last of her glass, Carolina sighs and pushs back her chair.

“Well, thanks for the drink, Reynolds.”

“You can pay next time."

She can’t quite stop a rising snort. “Don’t suppose I can pay by pulling your ass out of another barfight?”

He grumbles something inaudible and hunkers down into his glass.

Carolina sighs, because she had promised to play nice.

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

She leaves the glass in the sink, and pauses. “No hard feelings, about last time.”

“Hard feelings?” He sounds almost offended.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted you on my ship either.”

“Oh. Right. Last time.” He’s enormously subdued.

Carolina shakes her head before walking closer and holding out her hand.

He stares at it for a long moment, and then reaches out his own hand.

They shake, and it feels like the start of something.

“It’s a deal, then.”

He seems to collect himself, and withdraws his hand to point at her. “No rotgut, either. Gotta be something good.”

“Drink some water, Reynolds,” is all she says before heading back to her own ship.

She can hear Kaylee and Donut near Serenity’s engine on her way out, so she detours to the Valhalla’s to try and find some privacy.

Privacy turns out to not be an option, but York is there, so that’s okay. He’s draped himself over the lower turbine, his head vanishing into the mechanism. Delta’s sitting on his foot.

The parrot opens one eye, whistles at her, and then to all appearances, goes back to sleep. There’s a faint bonk from somewhere further up York’s body.

“Ow.”

Carolina snorts, again, settling in on the floor. “Watch your head.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His voice comes out muffled and echo-y. “How’s your reunion going?”

“Had a drink with Reynolds. Bit of a conversation.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“Apparently, you were flirting with him.” She tries to aim for amusement, rather than hurt. She has no right to be hurt. York flirts with everyone—she’d meant what she told Reynolds. He liked to charm people, liked to make them comfortable. He isn’t interested in being tied down to anyone, and he certainly isn’t serious.

Not even with her. Especially not with her.

“I was testing a personal theory.”

“Really?” She shifts against the wall, settling in. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Inara cares about him. And…unless I’m mistaken, he cares about her as well. It’s rather sweet.” He sighs. “Even if neither of them seem willing to admit it.”

“Well then.” Something occurs to her, and she closes her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t make Inara Serra dislike us too.”

“Oh, she knows I wasn’t serious. I think.”

“Not serious? Are you sure?” And this is a little too much like prodding a bruise, but she can’t resist poking it. “He’s not bad-looking. I suppose.” She’s known since the first day she rented to York that he’d be moving on, eventually. Everyone always leaves. So what if it’s sooner, rather than later?

“No fear of that.” And York finally starts to wiggle his way out, jostling Delta into flapping down to the floor and wadding over to Carolina, perching on her leg with a grumble. “He’s cute, but he’s not my captain.”

The effect of York winking as he slides out is effectively ruined by the dust covering everything from his ribs on up.

Carolina couldn’t have stopped the laugh coming up if she tried.

[mercymiku]

Ghost: 3

You walked back in with tea at that moment. Chris sat shooting startled glances into the space behind him. 

“D-did you say something whilst you were in the kitchen?” He asked, trying to compose himself. It didn’t work. You just eyed him oddly as you shook your head. He laughed it off. “Just hearing things.”

“Going mad in your old age are you?” You teased. It was sickening watching his pupils dilate and his whole countenance change. The fear vanished entirely to be replaced by a grotesque smirk. 

“The term is ‘experienced’ not old. And I don’t think I can blame any man for going mad in your presence.” He flirted back. 

For some reason you giggled and sunk further into the sofa opposite him, blushing profusely and making an utter fool of yourself. I think it was that that pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand how easily impressed you were with this blatant moron. You weren’t being yourself. You weren’t being the you that you were when you were alone and I didn’t like it. At all.

And so I sat next to you. You flinched but you didn’t turn. I couldn’t tell if you could see me or not. But I made sure that I was visible to him. 

For a second he squinted at the space beside you, shaking his head as you rambled on awkwardly about something he couldn’t care less about. Eventually his eyes widened and locked on to mine. I sent him a smirk and a sardonic wave. He gasped in shock.

In the background you mumbled to your unresponsive audience, caught up in whatever story you were telling. 

He couldn’t find the words to tell you that I was there, lounging beside you and taking to stroking your hair. You didn’t move when I did so, my touch was too light for you to notice in your reverie. Chris continued to gape at me in the meantime, opening and closing that yappy trap of his, malfunctioning as I challenged his belief, and his masculinity.

In the meantime you had stopped. 

“Chris?” You sent a few questioning glances between him and the space beside you. Uneasiness seeped into your voice. “Are you ok?”

He didn’t respond. Or at least he didn’t respond coherently. “G-g-g-g...” Stuttered the macho man, extending a quavering arm to point me out.

“G-g-g-g-ghost?” I responded, to his horror. “You are looking a little pale Chrissy, perhaps you ought to go home.”

“Ahh!” He shrieked as he leapt from his seat.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked, suddenly alert. 

“Yeah, what is wrong?” I added, leaning closer to you. You twitched. 

Chris, meanwhile, was clambering over the furniture and clawing for the hallway. You chased after him. I followed. He fumbled at the door, desperately rattling the handle and shooting crazed glances backwards. 

“Damn handle!” He cursed manically.

“It’s much easier to operate simple mechanics when you’re not being psychotic.” I offered from right beside him. He flung himself on the floor at your feet and you just kept telling him to calm down. He wasn’t listening, however. Rather he was much too captivated by my sinister smile as I nudged the door open and disappeared. A cold draft blew in and you turned, hugging your arms as the bitter evening air assaulted your exposed skin. Chris remained on the floor, whipping his head round so fast it should have snapped off in looking for me. 

I laughed at the sight and he started up again, crawling for the door. As he started off, your consolations stopped and you cast your eyes around the hall contemplatively.

“Alice!” Chris called after reaching the safety of your porch. “Alice you need to get out of that house now!” He kept shooting fearful looks around himself.

“What?” You stepped into the doorway, regarding him with concern. Not the friendly sort of concern you reserve for people in times of need but the judgemental ‘you need help’ kind of concern reserved for moments when people lose their grip on reality. “What do you mean? I can’t just leave my own house- and why should I?”

“Because,” He started in a low whisper. I drew up behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s-” He stopped short. I smiled spectacularly back at his startled features.

“It’s...” We said in unison. 

He went to begin again but I drew my thumb across my neck. Blood started pouring out of the line I had traced and my eyes, and from between my teeth. He let out a squeal of panic.

“Because it’s been nice seeing you.” He yelped before scrambling away into the night.

You walked back in and slammed the door shut behind you, muttering something along the lines of “What an ass. Why did I even invite him over?” 

Sighing, you returned to your seat and finished your tea. I sat opposite you this time. I watched as you drew your legs up to your chest and pulled out a scarf to wrap round your shoulders. I watched as you bit your lip and looked up as if to make the sprouting tears fall back into your tear ducts. I watched as you trembled lightly into slumber, as I crouched beside you when your breathing became steady and I ran my fingers through your hair.

I hadn’t meant to scare you.

But you were livid when you woke up.

~Wow, Chris is such a loser. Glad he left. GhostXAlice is my dream team.

[jadagul]

Integer Programming: When Approximation is Not Enough

After my last post on linear programming, I promised a followup discussing integer programming.  A year later I’ve finally written it.

Summary of this post: I remind you of what I said last time when I introduced linear programming.  I define integer programming, which is solving the same type of problem, but looking for the best integer-valued solution, and talk about some important applications.  I show a few examples of why this is relatively hard, and talk about a couple of methods people use to try to solve the problems anyway.  I talk about how hard these problems really are to solve, and I end up getting a little philosophical about what this tells us about reasoning.

Let’s start with a quick review.

 In the first post in this series I talked about what it means to have a linear function. These are simple to compute functions, of the type that generate lines and planes; much of the purpose of differential calculus is to turn difficult problems into linear algebra problems, which are typically much easier.

In the second post I discussed linear optimization and the simplex method, a famous and important algorithm for maximizing a linear function subject to linear constraints. Essentially, we drew the set of feasible solutions (solutions which satisfy the constraints), and we know that the optimum has to occur at some vertex, so we move along the vertices until we find the best one. Towards the end of the post I talked about the generalization to convex optimization, and then to a couple of classes of problems that this doesn't generalize well to.

In this post I'm going to focus on a particular problem. The simplex algorithm (and other approaches used for convex optimization) assume that our solution can be made up of arbitrary real, or at least rational, numbers. But in real world applications this assumption often fails. If I want to know how many computers I ought to buy to outfit a lab, and my algorithm tells me I should buy 7.8 computers, something somewhere has gone wrong, because four fifths of a computer is not actually useful.

It turns out there are a lot of problems that come up, both in theory and in real-life applications, where this sort of "integrality constraint" is important. We call these problems "integer programming" problems or "integer linear optimization" problems.

This would be much easier if you could order 69/116 of an appetizer.

One common example is the knapsack problem, which often appears in computer science. The prototypical setup is to take a collection of items with different weights and values, and maximize the total value that can be packed into a knapsack that can only hold fifteen pounds.

We can model this as a linear programming problem: we are maximizing a linear function (the sum of the values of the objects) subject to a linear constraint (on the sum of the weights of the objects), and the constraint that we can't chop any objects in half. This is in fact about the simplest possible integer programming problem.

This problem has applications to division of raw materials and the selection of assets to go into investment portfolios, among other common computations; it also underlies a few families of cryptosystems.

We can also encode most binary decision problems into an integer programming problem. If we impose constraints requiring all of our variables to be $\leq 1$ as well as $\geq 0$ then, with the integrality constraint, all of our variables have to be either $1$ or $0$, and thus give us "yes" or "no" answers.

In integer programming there are no halfway measures

In fact the knapsack problem, and thus integer programming, is a really generalizable type of problem; we'll see exactly how general, and what implications this has, a bit later on.

Let's look back at the example of the previous post. We were trying to maximize our profit of $F(T,R) = 5T + 3R$, subject to three constraints: $$\begin{array}{c} T+R  \leq 100 \\\\ 4T + 2R \leq 300 \\\\ 40 T + 30 R \leq 3300 \end{array}$$ And we calculated that we maximize our profit when $T=60, R = 30, f(T,R) = 390$. 

 We drew a picture to represent this problem.  The blue region represents the “feasible region” of solutions that fit the constraints; we’re looking for the point in the blue region that gives the biggest value to $F$.  The dashed gray lines are each contours of $F$; two points on the same line give the same output value.  We’re essentially looking for the highest line that still intersects the feasible region.  In the picture below, this is the black line, which gives a maximum output of $390$.

Two variable problems are easy; you can solve them by sliding a ruler across your graph.

But let's tweak the problem a bit; we'll make all the constraints twelve times as harsh. So our new constraints are $$\begin{array}{c} T+R  \leq 25/3 \\\\ 4T + 2R \leq 25 \\\\ 40 T + 30 R \leq 275 \end{array} $$ We can solve this problem just as we did before. But since everything has changed proportionately, we should expect our solution to be one-twelfth the old solution: $T=5, R = 2.5$.

And now we have a problem. We can't actually sell half a Rubik's cube. The answer we got doesn't actually make sense.

So let's look at a picture of this situation. The shaded region is the region that satisfies the constraints; the black dots are points with integer coordinates, where we're not trying to sell anyone half a board game or two fifths of a Rubik's cube. (We often call these integer-valued points "lattice points"). The red dot is our non-integer valued optimum.

This would be the best we could do, if we could do it.

We can see the rational optimum happens at $T=5, R = 2.5$, and the profit is $F(5,2.5) = 32.5$, which is what we'd expect. But this isn't a possible solution. However, we can test all the points and see that the optimum integer solution is at the point $(5,2)$, which is the closest point to our rational optimum. We have a profit of $F(5,2) = 31$. In the picture below, we see the level curve through the corresponding lattice point is above all the other lattice points.  Clearly we can’t move this line “up” any and still hit a lattice point in the blue region.

This is as close as we can actually get.

Now you might think that this isn't so bad. We can find the real-number optimum (or solve the "linear relaxation" of our integral problem) and then look at the integer solutions around it and see which is best. Unfortunately, this doesn't actually work. First, let's tweak the previous problem a bit: instead of dividing through by twelve, we divide through by nine. This gives us the constraints $$\begin{array}{c} T+R \leq 100/9 \\\\ 4T + 2R \leq 100/3 \\\\ 40 T + 30 R \leq 1100/3 \end{array} $$ and the rational optimum is $T = 20/3, R = 10/3$. We get a picture with lattice points:

This might look the same.  It’s sneaky that way.

The first thing we might want to do is round these numbers off to $(7,3)$. But we see that this point isn't in the feasible region, since $40 \cdot 7 + 30 \cdot 3 = 370 > 1100/3 \approx 366.7$. The closest point in the feasible region to $(20/3, 10/3)$ is $(6,3)$, which gives us a profit of $39$. But when we look at the picture, we see that this obviously isn't the integer-valued optimum, because we can get a strict improvement moving to $(6,4)$. This is the actual lattice-point optimum, giving a profit of $42$.

See?  Sneaky.  The solution crept up and to the left when you weren’t looking.

Even this might not seem so bad. We can't take the closest lattice point to the real optimum, but we can look at all the nearby points. But this doesn't actually work either. With bad luck the integer-valued optimum can be arbitrarily far away from the real optimum.

Look at a different optimization problem, with different constraints and thus a differently-shaped feasible region.  We’ll optimize $G(x,y) = 5x+8y$ subject to the constraints $$\begin{array}{c} x+y  \leq 6 \\\\ 5x + 9y \leq 45 \\\\ x \geq 0 \\\\ y \geq 0 \end{array}$$

Using the simplex method (or simply by drawing a picture with a level curve), we can find the real optimum at the point $(9/4,15/4)$, which is not integer-valued. Take a look at the picture and see if you can guess which integer point is optimal? (No peeking ahead!)

This one doesn’t look the same.  That’s because it’s different.

Rounding would give us the lattice point $(2,4)$, but that point is not inside the feasible region, since $5 \cdot 2 + 9 \cdot 4 = 46 > 45$. We could try taking the nearest feasible point in various ways: if we take the nearest feasible value in each coordinate we get the point $(2,3)$, with value 34. This is also the literal closest lattice point to the real optimum.  

But is it the integer optimum? This problem is simple enough that we can actually solve it by brute force, just by computing our outcome for every lattice point near the boundary. We get the following table: $$\begin{array}{ccc} x & y& G(x,y) \\\\ 0 & 5 & 40 \\\\ 1 & 4 & 37 \\\\ 2 & 3 & 34 \\\\ 3 &3 & 39 \\\\ 4 & 2 & 36 \\\\ 5 & 1 & 33 \\\\ 6 & 0 & 30 \end{array}$$ and we see that the integer optimum actually occurs at the point $(5,0)$, with an optimum output of 40.

Red is the real optimum.  Blue are what you get when you round off the red point.  The black is the actual integer optimum.

(We can check this by seeing that the line with slope $-8/5$ that passes through $(0,5)$ has all the other lattice points below it). So just taking the real-valued optimum and rounding doesn't get us to the integer-valued optimum.

(However, notice that the points near the real-valued optimum are still "pretty good". We'll come back to this thought later).

So what can we do to solve these integer programming problems? The simplest and most boring answer is just to check every lattice point, or perhaps every lattice point near the boundary. This will work but isn't really practical in large problems.  (It’s actually fine if you stay in two dimensions; all of this is easy if you only have two variables to work with.  But the number of points near the boundary scales exponentially with the number of variables you’re optimizing, and real-world problems can involve (thousands of variables).  

What we'd really like to do is take advantage of the fact that it's easy to solve the linear relaxation of our integral problem. There are two basic techniques people have used for this; most commercial solving algorithms actually mix the two ideas together, since they somewhat cover for each other's weaknesses.

Cutting Plane Methods

The basic idea of cutting plane methods is to approximate our integrality constraints with a sequence of linear constraints. Thus we solve a series of linear programming problems, each of which is straightforward to solve using the simplex method.

We start by solving the linear relaxation of our original problem. We get some real-valued optimal solution $P$. If it is already integer-valued, we have the integer optimum and can stop.

If the real-valued optimum $P$ is not integer-valued, we need some way to throw it (and everything near it) out of the set. We can do this by finding a hyperplane (the “cutting plane”) that has $P$ on one side, and every feasible integer point on the other side. (This is always possible, and pretty easy if you already have the equations for your problem).

We then use this hyperplane to give us a new linear constraint, and solve our new (real) linear programming problem. If this solution is an integer, we're done (since we didn't throw away any integer-valued solutions); if this new solution is not an integer, we find a new hyperplane.

We've actually seen an example of this cutting plane idea already. Back when we did our last example, I drew the line $y = 5 - 8x/5$, which had the real-valued optimum above it, but every feasible lattice point on or below it. So this line was a cutting plane!

Every lattice point in the blue region is also in the yellow region.  But the non-integer red optimum is not.

Thus the integer solution to the system 

$$\begin{array}{c} x+y  \leq 6 \\\\ 5x + 9y \leq 45 \\\\ y + 8x/5 \leq 5 \\\\ x \geq 0 \\\\ y \geq 0 \end{array}$$ 

is the same as the integer solution to our original system. But the real optimum for this new system is the point $(0,5)$, which is an integer. Thus it is the solution to our integer programming problem.

This method generalizes easily to non-linear convex optimization problems.

Branch and Bound Methods

In branch and bound methods we recursively split (or branch) our problem into multiple smaller problems; in this case we split our feasible region into multiple smaller regions and optimize for each of them. We can use this to save time by computing bounds on the regions: if the real maximum for a region is smaller than some integer solution we've already tested, we can ignore the entire region.

Returning to our example, we saw that the real optimum occurred at the point $(9/4, 15/4)$. We need both points to be an integer, so we add a new constraint forcing one of them away from its current non-integer valuation.  Since both variables are currently non-integers, we can start with either; right now I’ll start by branching on $y$.  

We’ll split our old problem into two new problems: in one, we’ll add the constraint $y \geq 4$, and in the other we’ll add the constraint $y \leq 3$.  This gives us the following picture containing two separate feasible regions for the two problems.  The upper triangle is the feasible region for the $y \geq 4$ constraint, and the lower trapezoid is the feasible region for the $y \leq 3$ constraint.  Now we can solve each one separately.

Running the simplex method in the upper triangle gives us an optimum of $(9/5,4)$, which is still not integral.

Some people, when confronted with an integer programming problem, think “I know, I’ll use branch-and-bound methods.”  Now they have two problems.

$y$ is already an integer, so we have to branch on $x$. We create and solve two new problems, one where we require $x \leq 1$ and another where we require $x \geq 2$. The second branch actually doesn't contain any points, integer or otherwise.  You can see in the picture above that there are no lattice points in the upper triangle with $x \geq 2$.  So we can ignore this branch entirely.

But the first branch does contain (three) feasible integer points. We could keep branching, but at this point it's probably more efficient to just check all three remaining integer points, and see that the optimal one is $(0,5)$, which produces an output of 40.

The real optimum in this picture is at $(1,40/9)$, but that isn’t a lattice point.

We successfully found the integer optimum in the upper triangle, but that might not be the integer optimum for the whole problem.  Now we need to return to our other branch, on the bottom trapezoid, and see if we can do any better there. We can also run the simplex method here; we find that the optimum value in this region occurs at the point $(3,3)$, and produces and output of 39.

If this had been our original problem, things would have been much easier.

And...now we're done. First, because we've found the integer optimum in each branch, so we just need to check all of these integer optima and see which one is best.

But it actually doesn't matter that we found the actual integer optimum in the lower region. We know that the real-valued optimum in the lower region is smaller than the integer optimum in the upper region---so we can discard it entirely.

So we have two different algorithms for solving integer linear programming problems.  But you'll notice that both of these processes require us to run the simplex algorithm a lot of times---potentially exponentially many times.  Can we make this actually efficient?

Those of you who were paying attention to the XKCD comic earlier, or who are familiar with computational complexity, may have already guessed the punchline: the integer programming problem is NP-complete.

All that work moved us from the left-hand panel into the middle.

This doesn't mean that there's no efficient way so solve these problems, but it does mean that we've tried very, very hard and can't find any.  (And that we mostly don't think there's a way to do so). Basically, if any NP-complete problem can be solved efficiently, then all of them can be.

We've already discussed the knapsack problem, which is a famous NP-complete problem.  It's also pretty easy to formulate the Traveling Salesman problem---which asks us to minimize travel time subject to constraints given by geometry---as an integer programming problem. With enough work most NP-complete problems can be re-expressed as an integer programming problem fairly naturally.

So unlike the continuous real-valued problem, which is usually solved efficiently by the simplex algorithm and always by interior-point methods, these integer programming problems are generally quite difficult and computationally expensive to solve.

Consequently, real-world solutions to these problems tend to involve a lot of heuristics.  The simplest is just to solve the linear relaxation, round the answer, and cross your fingers.  More sophisticated approaches involve hill-climbing, simulated annealing, and genetic algorithms (as in this paper modelling the airline boarding process).

The part of this I find most interesting is how bad the “obvious” approximation can be.

It’s easy to find the real-valued optimum for the function.  And it’s intuitively plausible that the integer optimum will be the closest integer solution to the real valued optimum.  But that’s not actually the case!  And in general, the integer optimum can be as far away from the real optimum as you want it to be, with sufficiently malicious problem construction.

This is a really important and general idea.  You can see it come up in e.g. this post about the pitfalls of Bayesianism: even if you believe that Bayesian reasoning from a (uncomputable) Solomonoff prior is perfectly ideal reasoning, that doesn’t mean that your finite approximation is anywhere near the best finite thing we can do.

We’re used to thinking of convex low-dimensional problems, and in those everything is usually easy.  But as problems get more complicated, it’s easy to get stuck at an okay solution that’s actually nowhere near the optimum of what you’re looking at.

This same idea is the main reason most of number theory is hard. It's generally easy to tell whether an equation has real or complex solutions. (Not always! But usually). Figuring out whether an equation has integer solutions is much harder.

[dhyanposts]

How to Play Guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

How to play guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

Learn the way to play guitar - Today we learn how to play guitar easily both how you played the guitar or how to learn the guitar, then you're on the proper post, today we'll tell you ways to play the guitar. Both of those posts wanted to write down about an equivalent day but today I'm getting to share this post with you. A lot of individuals have told us that we should always share the tactic and method of playing guitar with us and also tell us the way to learn to play guitar, we took these decisions and today we are sharing this post with you. We hope that today's post will sound and you'll skill to play guitar. Both of today's young boys like playing guitar and everybody wants to play guitar, but sadly, they are doing not know the tactic of playing guitar. Some people are keen on playing tabla, some need to read something, but some people wish to play guitar and that they want to play guitar. Buy Guitar From Here

Guitar Kaise Sikhe (How to play guitar)

People feel that playing the guitar is extremely much a task, but there's nothing like that within the world if an individual can do everything and if somebody else can do this work and this is often only a guitar, you'll only mention it. you'll learn how to play it easily and if you read this post given to us completely and till the top.

How to Play Guitar - Learn to Play Guitar

The Types of the guitars

First of all, allow us to tell you ways many guitars are popular and the hottest guitar is Acoustic and the second is electrical guitar. The guitar gets a touch bit costlier and therefore the guitar may be a bit expensive but if you learn to play guitar then you'll also play the electrical guitar. But if you're absolutely sherry and you are doing not skills to play the guitar in the least, then we'll tell you that you simply can learn to play with guitar, it's easier than playing the electrical guitar. And every beginner should learn from guitar, so today we'll also tell you the tactic and method of playing guitar. But before that, we share photos of both the guitars and can tell you about the guitars, which you'll get information about the guitars. 1. Acoustic guitar parts

  2. Electric guitar parts

So both of you'll see in both of the above images, check out all the columns and you recognize all the parts carefully then read what we'll tell you, you'll find it very easy to know. So now you recognize that there are guitar parts and that we tell you that you simply can play any song or song from the guitar, only you'll got to play it and zip else.

Learn from which class to Play Guitar

If you are doing not the skills to play the guitar in the least, then we speak to you and every one the beginners that you simply can do that with a wooden guitar and Learn how to play the electrical guitar the maximum amount as once you play the wooden guitar. you'll learn that you simply can try your hand on guitar also, there's no room in it. But once you are learning to play the guitar, you ought to only hear the guitar. First of all, we would like to inform you that your guitar is formed entirely of wood and therefore the wires that are attached thereto are of copper. Your guitar consists of a complete of 4 stars, the highest of which is that the very pearl which makes a really loud sound then the celebs become thin.

Complete information about Guitar the way to play guitar for Beginners

1. Headstock - Your chord wire is connected to the headstock and is tightened in bridgepins. 2. Tuners - With the item of tuners you'll tighten the wires and proper the tunning of your guitar. If your tunning isn't correct, then once you perform the guitars, the guitars won't sound properly because the strings aren't set correctly. If you are doing not skills to perform the tuner guitars, then there's no got to panic because from Google you'll fine tune your guitars with the item of the guitars tunning app. 3. Fretboard - Fretboard is simply like your guitar and here you've got frets that are at rock bottom of the wire and once you press these wires into different frets a special tune comes out. 4. Position markers - These are white points that tell you which of them fret you're on and it'll get to ascertain you on the 3rd, 5th, 4th, 9th and 12th fret. 5. Pick Guard - Pick guard is that the place of your guitar where you hold your hand and play the guitar together with your finger item 4. hole - The hole is that the lifetime of your guitar and once you tell the celebs of the guitar, then the sound from this hole comes out and if you are doing not have a hole in your guitar then your voice also won't get right. Both of those are the most parts of your guitar that help your guitar the maximum amount because it plays and make sounds from your guitar. How to arrest the tactic of arrest Now it comes then the proper thanks to catching the guitar is that you simply won't be ready to play the guitar properly until you catch the guitar and first of all you've got to take a seat on a cushty cushion and place the guitar together with your chest and stomach. need to stick And then you've got to grab the fretboard of the guitar's neck from the ledge and therefore the right is to put it at the rock bottom of the guitar hole in order that you'll play the guitar's string comfortably. The most pearl wire of the guitars should be upwards and therefore the thinnest wire of your feet and this is often the proper thanks to catching the guitars. Now you've got to play on the fretboard of the guitars from your lap and move the chords from the right and once you do that, the voice will come from your guitars. Buy Guitar From Here Set the chord strings Now that you simply skills to catch the guitar, now let's examine the way to set the string of the guitar and as we told you that you simply can take the guitar tuner, which you'll download from Google is For your information, i would like to inform you that once you tighten a string, the sound are going to be tuned and once you hit the wire loosely, the sound doesn't sound nearly as good and you'll set the chord string by yourself. Ho The guild consists of a complete of 4 strings that we call E, A, D, G, B, and E because the thickest wire, E and therefore the thinnest wire using E and every one these stars correctly. tuning are often removed If you would like , you'll also use the pick to ring the celebs and it'll do your utmost to urge the precise sound. A pick may be a small piece of rock that helps ring the guitar's string.

Second Method to Play Guitar

Guitar Bajana Kaise Sikhen | Learn how to play the guitar (The way to Learn Play Guitar) In the world, everyone likes music and everybody has their own choice, like a number of the tabla, some just like the drum, and a few just like the flute. many sorts of instruments are wont to make music. one among them may be a guitar. The guitar is that the most liked instrument within the world of music, which is why every concert-goer wants to learn to play the guitar. The guitar usually consists of 6 strings with the assistance of which the musical sound is emitted from it. to urge the melody of the music from its strings, the fingers and pick (Guitar Pick or Plectrum) are used.

With the assistance of a guitar, you'll make any quiet music out. If you wish the guitar too, but you are doing not the skills to play the guitar then don't worry because today we are supplying you with detailed information about the melody of music from the guitar. Things required: A guitar A pick A tuner Know the guitar: Before playing any instrument, it's important to understand it, so you ought to choose only the great guitar. to urge a melodious sound from a guitar, you ought to choose a wooden guitar, also as make sure it's copper strings. you ought to note that the wire is sticking to the pegs and is connected to the headstock. The neck of the guitar should even be of wood. It should be flat from one side and round from the opposite side. there's also a hole within the back from which the sound comes out. If you're using guitar, then it'll have amplifiers. - Hold the guitar: After knowing the guitar, you ought to come to carry it in order that you'll use it properly. to try to do this, you initially sit comfortably during a chair, then hold the guitar neck together with your |along with your"> together with your left and hold rock bottom of the guitar with your right in such how that your fingers will shake the guitar strings easily. Can give confine mind that the guitar touches your chest and abdomen and therefore the thinnest chord of the guitar is towards the world and the pearl string is towards the highest. Your left has got to do two tasks, first - it holds the neck of the guitar and keeps it steady, and second its fingers are helpful in producing the sound of the strings above the guitar within the guitar.

Learn how to play guitar

Tie the strings of the guitar. you've got learned to carry the guitar, but would you be happy to play guitar that doesn't have any pleasure in taking note of the tune? No no So let's Play how to tie guitar strings. The guitar consists of 6 strings and every chord is given a reputation like E, A, D, G, B, and E (from thickest to thinnest). So if you would like to extend the sound of any string, then pull the string and tie it and if you would like a lighter tone, then you allow the wire to lose. If you would like, you'll also tie each wire separately. Whenever you tie the strings of your guitar and choose the sound, there should be peace within the room. If you would like, you'll set your tune alongside the melody of the pianos. Use of the pick: If you employ the pick for enjoying the guitar, then you hold it together with your thumb and therefore the finger near it. remove about 1 centimeter from your finger and use it to shake between the celebs. you ought to use it carefully in order that it doesn't break any wires. Start playing: As we told you that a guitar has 6 strings, these strings are divided into 2 groups. Of these, C, A, G, E, and D are considered to be the most strings. Now you're taking a book and with its help practice to urge the melody of the music. confine mind that you simply must also practice it regularly. To get a hold of the tune, you initially practice pure music. You practice each chord to know the sound of every chord. confine mind that once you are playing the string, no other wires are buried downwards. To try, you ought to play all the strings within the rhythm for the raga. Buy Guitar From Here Finger pain: Every guitarist has got to undergo finger pain and this is often also true because rigorous exercises are required regularly to Learn guitar. there'll come a time once you won't be ready to bear this pain, but you ought to twiddle my thumbs. We are telling you some tips by which you'll get relief from the pain of your fingers. - How to Play Guitar – Learn to Play Guitar - How To Block Or Unblock Someone On Facebook: Android & Desktop - How To Convert Image To PDF For Free Using Mobile or Laptop: Easy Steps - How To Password Protect Documents And PDFs With Microsoft Office - How To Recover Deleted Emails In Gmail And Back to Inbox

How to Learn Play Guitar

After practicing the guitar, soak your fingers in cold water, ice, or apple vinegar. this provides relief to your fingers. - Make your mind hard and whenever you are feeling pain, then you say in your mind that you simply want to practice it more now. If you would like to extend your enthusiasm, you'll also put an image of your inspiration in your room. Fear doesn't cause your mental pain.

If you create your fingers hard, then albeit you are doing not feel pain, then you'll use rubbing alcohol for this. After practicing the guitar, keep your fingers in it a few times, you'll get relief and your fingers also will get stiff. Practice: The last task is your practice. The more you practice, the higher you'll play the guitar. For this, you retain trying to play some songs, initially remove the slow sound and slowly you reach the upper vocals. you'll also take help of the internet and you'll watch videos of learning guitar online or on youtube. Which is extremely helpful in teaching you guitar. Or if you would like, you'll take help from an honest music player within the beginning. Because they will teach you some such lessons which are very helpful in teaching you the guitar. Learning guitar isn't easy, but your vision helps you learn it quickly. within the beginning, you'll not get an honest tune, but don't be discouraged and trust in yourself to continue your efforts. you create the water fingers your strength. Slowly your fingers become full and conversant in the guitar strings and you're ready to learn to play the guitar. For the other help associated with learning guitar, you'll immediately get information by commenting below.

Third Method to Play Guitar

Learning to play guitar is a lot of fun, though playing chords could seem a touch intimidating initially. Fear not, it's not much different than playing single notes: you're just playing all of them at once! this text will walk you thru the method of understanding the fingering, and show you ways to play some common chords. Pull out your ax, and rock on! Learning to play guitar is a lot of fun, though playing chords could seem a touch intimidating initially. Fear not, it's not much different than playing single notes: you're just playing all of them at once! this text will walk you thru the method of understanding the fingering, and show you ways to play some common chords. Pull out your ax, and rock on!

Understanding Chords

Learn the strings. the simplest thanks to start is by becoming conversant with the strings on your guitar and the way they relate to your fingers. From this easier, we're getting to number them both. The strings on your guitar are numbered like this: Vertically, the strings are numbered 1 through 6, from highest pitch to lowest. Horizontally, the numbering is predicated on the fret positions. Note that when the directions say "put your first finger on the 3rd fret," meaning you really place your finger between the 2nd and 3rd fret. it is the string itself that must be in touch with the 3rd fret. Use this mnemonic to recollect which note each string is tuned to, from the lowest pitch (top string) to highest pitch (bottom string): Eat All Day, Get Big Easy. Buy Guitar From Here Number your fingers. Take a glance at your left , and picture you've got numbers stamped on your fingers. Your index is 1, your finger is 2, your annualry is 3, and your pinky finger is 4. Your thumb we'll call "T," but you'll not be using it for chords during this article. Learn the C chord. the primary chord we'll cover maybe a C chord—one of the foremost basic chords in music. Before we do, let's break down just what meaning. a correct chord, whether played on a piano, a guitar, or sung by well-trained mice, is just three or more notes sounded together. (Two notes are named a "diad," and while musically useful, isn't a chord.) Chords also can contain much more than three notes, but that's well beyond the scope of this text. this is often what a C chord seems like on the guitar: The lowest note is that the 3rd fret of the A string: C The next note up is played on the 2nd fret of the D string: E Note there's no finger on the G string. This string remains "open" when strumming a C. The highest note is played on the first fret of the B string: C The highest and lowest strings on the guitar aren't played for the essential C major chord. Try out the notes. Play each note within the chord, from low to high, one at a time. Take some time and be deliberate: depress firmly on the fret, and pluck the string. Let the note ring for as long as you'll, then move to subsequent note: Press your 3rd finger onto the 3rd fret of the A string, as indicated above, pluck, and let it ring until it fades out. you only played a C note. Press your 2nd finger onto the 2nd fret of the D string, then do the pluck-and-ring to play an E. Break time! Simply pluck the open, un-fingered G string. Press your 1st finger on the first fret of the B string, and let that C note sound loud! Play the notes, one at a time, a couple of times. When you're ready, sweep your pick or fingers across all four middle strings quickly. You've just played a C chord! It may sting a touch the primary few times you are doing it, but as you develop calluses, the pain goes away.

Learning More Chords

Expand your musical vocabulary. Playing a C chord is good , and it's definitely a gateway chord which will lead you into more interesting musical territory, but there's far more to music than that! Here are two other chords commonly used when playing in C Major. F, and G. Play a basic F chord like this: The notes in an F chord are F, A, and C. Note that the F and therefore the C are being played by an equivalent finger: the primary finger is placed across the first fret of both the first and 2nd strings. Read the full article

[galacticjonah]

I wrote a little nonsense thing, inspired by a concert I attended yesterday.

(Taagnus, RealLifeAU, Magnus is overwhelmed by a performance and doesn’t know how to deal with stuff. Avi helps a little bit. Brad is worried about dental work. Might write more of this?)

F L I P W I Z A R D

Would this ever become easier? Would there be a time when it would just pass him by, a fleeting moment of clouds covering the sun before returning to the good old feeling of summer. Maybe. He didn't know. Some things had changed of course. This was a different city, a different life, there were people around him, having his back, knowing what it meant when his eyes looked dark in the morning and the shadows on his face seemed to hold on a little tighter than usually.

So, he wasn't alone today. On this day. Avi's elbow pressed against his own as the man moved to welcome another bottle of beer from the waiter, opening it up with his teeth like an absolute idiot. "You ought to stop doing that, you won't have any teeth left when you hit your fifties.", commented Brad from the other side, his brows knit together in the typically sincere worry right above his thickly rimmed glasses. Avi only laughed and gently shoved at Brad's arm while taking a swig from the bottle.

"Don't make that face, come on! I'm fine!"

Yes, Magnus was not alone in here today and it felt good, healing almost. The rambling of his friends passed by like a gentle river, only mixed with the taste of his whiskey, the dull ache between his lungs and the swirling sensation in his head that was getting stronger hour by hour. Seemed like he still wouldn't make it through this without ending up completely drunk - at least he had someone to watch out for him this year.

"It is a serious risk you're taking, you know how expensive dental work is and even though it's covered on your insurance plan you should-"

"Magnus, Magnus please tell him to shut up, if he starts to go on about work now, my brain will literally melt and come out of my ears."

They got a tired smile out of him and he gently swung his glass in his palm, watching the ice dance on the amber surface of the liquid, clinking together again and again and again. He longed to be floating like that - but for that he'd need a few more drinks.

"Come on boys…behave.", he mumbled softly and then finally downed the rest of his whiskey, which earned him another one of Brad's concerned looks, but no comments were made. They knew. Today was the day and they knew better than to try and give him advice. They were there and that was all that mattered.

"Anyways.", Avi started, restlessly playing with the bottle cap of his beer, shoving it around on their table, back and forth. "Everything's set up for next week's fishing trip, I think I can even get us another tent, so Carey and Killian could come with us too. It would be-"

Magnus' attention trailed off, pulling his eyes over the dimly lit landscape of his favorite bar, to the right where there was a small stage. Some people had gathered at the tables right at the front and some staff was setting up a table. Magnus slowly slid his fingers inside the whiskey glass on the table, without even looking at it, touching the leftover ice in it, the cold impulse to his skin serving as an anchor, a grounding sting. It was ridiculously hard not to think. He was so painfully aware of that in this very moment. A gentle static seemed to press onto his whole body, a flickering, swinging sensation, unreal. The lights dimmed even more. And then, the crack of a microphone.

Someone had appeared on the stage, standing behind the table that was now the setup surface of a few confusing devices and a Microkorg synthesizer. The person was fiddling with a few buttons, but looked completely relaxed, uncaring towards the fact that there were quite a few people looking on. The musician was a short, round guy, wearing a ridiculously big, floppy hat that cast solid shadows over his face, making him look like something out of another dimension. The only thing peeking out of the inky dark was a long braid of messy, washed out lavender hair, and a bead necklace. Two taps to the microphone, then he leaned in and mumbled into it.

"Hey, I'm Flipwizard, what's up."

And then he just started to play. A harmony of tones rose over the room like a wave of warm water. Softly swinging, vibrating, it spread in the whole bar. Pleasant rays of sunlight in the form of sound. And then raindrops in gentle rhythms, falling into the empty space, repeating, repeating, swinging. Magnus pulled his fingers out of the glass and closed his fist around his icy fingers, staring to the stage. The quality of the music was surprising, the way it hit home with him was…strange. Maybe Brad was saying something, maybe Avi was laughing. He didn't hear it. Magnus' mind was filled with  music and with the music there were colours. And then the stranger on stage started to sing. A soft, warm voice, stringing words onto a fragile thread like the shiny beads around his neck. And his fingers slipped over the synth in complete control, back and forth between switches, buttons and keys, a surreal little dance, elegant and precise and with such a…otherworldly result.

Magnus forgot about the whiskey he had thought about before. He forgot about the ache beneath his heart. He…forgot.

At some point he had gotten up to get a better look. Somehow he hadn't dared to approach the stage completely, feeling a strange awe weakening his knees with surprising strength, so he stuck to the middle grounds, awkwardly lingering in the dark. Neither Brad nor Avi had tried to stop the man and so Magnus was leaning against one of the wooden support beams, bracing himself against the trusty material, while taking in the show.

The musician did not talk much between the different songs, he just took a sip from a bottle every now and then and commented applause with 'cool cool cool' before going right back to the next song. And the next. And next. They all blurred together, weaved into a tight, colorful carpet, all made by those quick hands and his voice. He sang of magic, of things out of another world, painted a vibrant picture from a faraway place and Magnus felt at home, felt centered. It spread like a warm blanket.

At some point the 'wizard' leaned back his head. The spotlights spread out, wiping the shadows away from under the broad brim of his hat, lighting up what was beneath. Magnus held his breath. The musician seemed to be in a state of trance, his eyes were closed. His lips were curved into a content smile, giving free view onto a small tooth gap. Curls fell down to his brows as he moved and then the moment passed, shadow reclaimed him as he lowered his upper body to lean towards the microphone.

The rhythm of the bass was replacing the beat of Magnus' heart at this point, the vibration of the notes surged through his whole body, washing the gray from his veins.

Cascades of music carried him away to another place where things were maybe not quite as heavy and not quite as painful. This was as close to floating as he'd get today.

Eventually, after an eternity, it ended and Magnus felt deflated, strangely exhausted. The musician, Flipwizard like he had called himself, thanked the audience and then started to clear up the table, unplugging cables, rolling them up again. Magnus was still buzzing somehow. So much even, that he didn't notice Avi appearing by his side.

"Hey man."

Magnus twitched and turned his head, looking down at his friend who was eying him with raised brows and a careful smile. He had been standing there for almost a full minute already.

"Didn't know you were into that kind of sound."

"Mh…"

He hummed and slowly rubbed his beard, glancing to the stage again.

"Me neither."

Avi followed his gaze and they both quietly watched the artist bagging up his equipment. Nothing was said, but many things were thought.

"You…should go talk to him.", Avi eventually offered very carefully, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning a bit, probably to give Brad a look. Magnus didn't notice it, he just awkwardly shifted, rubbing his palm along the supporting beam, the warm wooden texture.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, man. He seems like a cool guy, I mean. You're a people person, you'll be fine, Mag."

"I don't even know…I mean what would I say…it's…this is…it's stupid, Avi."

"Don't worry, brother! Just go up there. Tell him you liked it or something."

Avi patted him on the back, gently shoving at Magnus' big frame until the man moved, insecurely making steps through the room as if walking out onto thin ice.

He felt terribly awkward approaching the stage, it was like wading through water, a clammy weird sea that reached up to his chest, but he still made it, somehow. Maybe he bumped into a table and a few chairs, he wasn't sure, and he definitely stumbled while walking up the stairs to the left. (Avi would later tell him that he had looked like a drunk person walking around a ship's deck.)

Nervously, Magnus then peeked behind the curtain that covered the side of the stage that lead to a little backstage area. There he was, with his back to Magnus and without his hat, rolling up a cable in big elegant coils around his arm, slow and relaxed, in absolutely no hurry. Oxygen seemed to have fled this realm all of the sudden and Magnus was painfully aware of how sweaty his palms were.

"Hey.", he said. It was the most clumsy thing he had ever said, probably. It felt like a pebble falling out of his mouth and the regret was instant and vicious.

But it had an effect.The musician turned around. His eyes looked dark in the dim light, but they were still striking and immediately wandered all over Magnus' body, completely unashamed. Running suddenly seemed like a really good idea - luckily his legs did not comply at all and so he just made an awkward side step. Silence.

"Got lost, big boy?", the 'wizard' asked after a few terrible seconds and there was that smile again. This time it hit Magnus right in the guts. Oh man.

"No.", he said carefully, his mouth feeling completely dry. He tried to figure out how words worked, how breathing was even a thing.

"I…just wanted….I mean…your music. It was…..it was really good."

The smile grew, the little tooth gap was fully visible and very prominent now. Magnus had never spent a second thought on anyone's teeth but this….

"A fan, then. I see! You want an autograph? Bet I got a pen somewhere."

Magnus could've sworn that his feet were sinking into the ground. He looked down to check, like a complete idiot.

"No…no I…just…"

What did he want!? Avi had sent him here, he hadn't even thought about what he wanted to say, let alone do when he was back here, face to face with this…no doubt, clearly magical being. It was all Avi's fault. He'd punch him for this, later. Yes he would.

The musician placed the cable roll into a suitcase and then came closer. He was a quite a bit smaller than Magnus but made up for it with very bold fashion choices and a charisma that burned like the sun itself. And still…that grin. Again he was looked over from head to toe and it made him feel all kinds of things.

"Okay then…how about you buy me a drink, bubula."

Oh. Ohhhhh.

Magnus nodded slowly.

That…he could do.

[alittleoptimistic]

The Monster On Abington Street

There is a monster that lives on Abington Street. It creeps in dark corners and leaves the smell of burning in its wake. It oozes strange black goo and sometimes, late at night when every eye is shut and the moon flickers behind a cloud, you can hear it crackle a spiteful and melancholy challenge at the sky. People go missing, and they don’t come back, and the next morning the whole street smells burnt. Like burning beans. What sort of creature is this?

I, Benjamin Garrick, am going to find this monster and nothing as absurd as a bedtime is going to stop me.

I set out with the knife I took from Davy’s secret box under his bed, and, slowly, I open my window and let cool air waft into my bedroom. The wind speaks of dew and quiet and just that hint of burnt. The monster is nearby. I am glad Davy was gone this evening because it made it easier to get the knife. I think he’s gone to his girlfriend’s again...

Carefully, I ease my way down, catching the button of my shirt on the window ledge. It tears, and I say one of the bad words Davy says when Mom or isn’t around as the button pops and bounds downward to be swallowed by the yawning night.

I dangle by my fingertips, kicking my feet, and it hurts a bit, but I don’t know if this hurts less than letting go will. But then the wind speaks again and brings that smell, and I clench my jaw. I have a mission. A sacred duty.

I drop, and the fall isn’t nearly as frightening as I thought it would be. Landing as quietly as I can (which isn’t very quiet, to be honest) I scramble to my feet and poke my knife at that thick darkness breathing in slow groans around me. It flinches back at the touch of my blade. Or perhaps it is I who flinched.

The burning, smoky smell grows stronger.

Mom says the smell is the broken sewer pipe. She says Mrs. Nancy is always flushing things down her toilet she ought not to, and eventually, it’s messed up the entire street. This seems like an awful complex explanation when the true answer is fairly obvious. The monster leaves the smell as a warning. But Mom doesn’t see it that way, and Mrs. Nancy won’t admit to sticking rocks and toothbrushes and little stuffed cats toys down the toilet. She’s an old lady who has to be at least five hundred years old with more wrinkles than a face. She clutches her little golden cross necklace and holds it up when Davy walks near. That’s because he wears black and talks too loud and plays loud music and watches bad movies, but I think it still kinda shocks him every time she does that.

Carefully, I ease across our lawn, avoiding the orange street lights. Orange streetlights are gaps where things don’t quite line up correctly and everything becomes plastic, and I need my wits about me. Besides, I do want to bring the monster’s attention to me. Kneading the knife in my hand, I run my fingers along the initials engraved inside. D. G. Dad got it for Davy back when he was around a lot. He used to tell me he’d get me one when I turned ten, but I’m eleven now, and he’s gone. Mrs. Nancy said he wasn’t a good person, but I don’t see how that can be true.

That’s okay, though because when I get the monster, Dad will think that’s pretty cool. And he’ll know I’m old enough to have my own knife. Then I won’t have to take Davy’s. And then Dad will come back.

The smell is getting stronger. As I walk down the street, my shadow stretches before me, and cat ears grow from the top of its head. A tail swishes behind me and my fingers sharpened like claws. The shadow’s head tilts slightly in a confused, wild sort of way. This does not startle me. It is just the monster messing with my mind. Besides, if I could be anything, being a panther would be a good option for my current mission.

I press on until I reach Dr. Orn’s house. Dr. Orn hates everything. He hates the color yellow and he hates lawn clippings, and I think the only thing he doesn’t hate is giving people disgusting medicine. For the most part, the medicines are horribly tasting, and he thinks its funny to watch you squirm. In his defense, though, his medicine does work, and he is quite rich because of it. He is handsome and cheeky and has a car he takes to the car wash every three days because birds seem to love a nice, clear target. That’s another thing he hates. Birds. And I’d like to say he’d not very fond of children either. He used to babysit me and Davy, and every time we went, he’d spend the entire time reading us a list of rules until we passed out from boredom. Mom adores him. She thinks he should start his own radio show and give life advice.

Next to his house, there is an old house with ivy growing up the side and more of a dirt patch along the front than a lawn. The house is pressed into the earth by the many comments made by its neighbor Ms. May, who has garden flamingos and color coordinated flowerbeds. She likes to sit on her front porch with her hands glued to her hips, and she waits until someone walks past. Then, she catches them quickly with her words and makes to you listen to forty minutes of all the awful grievances she has gone through lately and how they all have sprouted, in one way or another, from the owner of the horrible house next door.

Mr. Dunkin, who owns the house with the ivy and the old rusted car and the tree that dips down lifeless limbs to tap at the windows on rainy, cold days, thinks Ms. May is amusing, I imagine. I personally think he lets it get this bad just because it irritates her. There are stories about Mr. Dunkin being mean to kids a long, long time ago. Mom used to always make us walk on the other side of the street when we passed by. Don’t want him getting any ideas, she’d say. Just to be safe.

I don’t know Mr. Dunkin, so I can’t say whether this is a necessary step or not, but many people believe it is. No one’s seen him in a long time and people are starting to talk about selling the house.

After passing his house and Ms. May’s house, I reach the end of the road. Beyond, a large forest stretches into infinity. It has woven branches and beaded eyes and is overall very temperamental. If there is something we all can agree on, it is that it is only a good idea to enter the forest when it invites you.

I don’t think the monster is in the forest this way. The forest smells like dirt and more dew and pine needles. No burning.

I turn and am about to head in a new direction when a flicker catches my eye. I squint at it.

Just between two houses on the left, something scampers. My heart bubbles up into my throat, and my grip tightens on the knife. If I kill this monster, things will be okay. I know they will.

Quiet as a panther, I glide across the lawns and sidewalks, and I press my back against the rough bricks of the house I’d seen the flicker near. Something skids again. It whispers something I cannot hear and shoves cold shivers down my spines. This monster is a thing of shadows and ash. Fire and darkness all at once. Taking a deep breath, I hold up my knife and step around the corner. All is quiet. All is dark.

A burnt darkness.

The air is heavy with smoke, but I still can’t see where the smell is coming from. The monster moves the air around me and propels me forward, and I cannot do anything but follow. Deeper and deeper between the ever narrowing crack between the houses. Soon both houses scrape my shoulders, and then I am turned to the side to continue on. And I cannot go back. I am pressed forward. A trembling sets into my bones like a great cold and I almost drop my knife. But I do not. I push and tug and struggle until finally, I reach the edges of the houses. A great black curtain covers the exit. When it brushes against my face, at first I believe it to be a spider web, but soon my mistake is rectified. I press against the curtain, and it gives. The darkness eases back, and the silence disappears. I am swamped in noise all at once. Drowning in it.

They are familiar voices, talking, laughing, arguing, murmuring, snickering, complaining. They are Abington Street. I push the curtain aside once and for all, and squint at the sudden light. Inside the forest behind the houses, they have set up a circle of flat stones jabbed into the earth. They sit in lawn chairs at picnic tables with red and white checkered table clothes inside the circle and no one appears to notice me. The smell of burning beans, of cooking, is overwhelming, and I realize suddenly, that this is where the smell is coming from. This is the source.

My knife falls to my side. Carefully, I ease forward. A large bonfire in the middle of the stone circle has a very large pot on it, and they are cooking some type of chili.

Their eyes are chilly.

One by one they turn to look at me. They are dead-eyed. Sharks. I see mom and Mrs. Nancy and Ms. May, and Dr. Orn and more, and they all fall quiet. Quiet as the dead.

Hello, little boy, they say. Hello Benjamin. Thought you’d join us early, did you

What’s going on? I ask.

They look at each other. They smile.

A feast.

Something is very, very wrong, and it isn’t until then that the feeling in my gut suddenly becomes something I can see with my eyes. Someone’s black clothes lay on the floor near the fire. I know those clothes. The fire dances screaming shadows twisting in agony across the stone circle. There are names written on the inside sides of the stones.

David Dunkin, says one.

Jason Garrick, says another. That’s my dad.

And many more names. But one stone stands out from the rest. As the crowd slowly eases closer, coiling tighter and tighter around me, my hands tremble and my vision blurs, but I can still make out Davy Garrick on the newest stone. The red paint is still wet.

Mom takes a step toward me and she smiles and it looks very nice. You are the good son, Benjamin. Eat with us.

She holds out the bowl. I take it and am shaking so bad the broth spills over my fingers. And I know, right then, why the street smells like burnt beans the night after someone goes missing.

I’m holding Davy in my hands. I’m holding him.

I won’t, I say. I want to ask why. I want to ask why so desperately. But I can’t. Abington Street exchange glances with each other and shrug. They moved closer until I can’t hold the bowl anymore. It falls to my feet and spills across my shoes, and I cannot move my knife, they are holding me so tight. Like an anaconda.

Like a snake. A monster.

Gulping down a breath, I shut my eyes as they press me into the earth and pull me down with their bodies.

I was so wrong. There is not a monster that lives on Abington Street.

There are monsters.

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Fifty-Two

Welcome back!

Last time, we got the ultimate girls night of our dreams with the Dora Milaje and Natasha Romanoff.

This time, we get to see M’Baku and Okoye move into her new apartment --and celebrate Shuri and Dewani’s engagement!

Rating: PG for language.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and Shuri x OC.

@skysynclair19, @the-last-hair-bender

No two parts of the river are alike. Some stretches may bare semblance to one another, while some parts will be so vastly different that you’ll barely recognize them as part of the same river.

It’s okay to be disquieted by –even afraid of—change, my dears, as long as you don’t let it hold you in one place.

***

The new apartment was far more spacious than her old one.

Two bedrooms instead of one. One and half bathrooms instead of just one. A bigger kitchen and separate dining and living areas, instead of the single room space she’d been using for entertaining, eating, and relaxing for the past several years.

Okoye narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the space. “I think we might need more furniture than what I had.”

M’Baku wrapped his arms around behind her, hands settling on the swell of her stomach. “We’ll get it figured out.”

“I know, I know, it’s just… weird.”

“It’s change.”

“I said what I said.”

M’Baku chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Come on, ‘koye. Let’s at least get the essentials unpacked.”

***

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

M’Baku sighed, quickly smothering a smirk, and walked over to where his lover stood in the kitchen. “You’re glaring at the cabinets like they’ve personally wronged you.” He started kneading her shoulders, carefully rubbing the tension out of her muscles. “What’s bothering you?”

“I’m just… I’m not sure what the best way to organize things is,” Okoye admitted as she surveyed her new kitchen.

“Well, things are bound to change as we get settled into the space,” M’Baku pointed out. “I think we’ll find the best set up after a bit.”

“A lot of things are bound to change,” Okoye retorted, dropping one hand to press against the swell of her stomach. “I’d rather not have everything up in the air all at once.”

“I’m not sure we can avoid some of that, in the long run.” M’Baku kissed her temple gently. “Let’s just focus on unpacking the essentials right now. It’ll be easier to deal with everything else if we aren’t rifling through boxes every single day.”

Okoye sighed, then smiled. “Okay. You’re right.”

“I always am.”

“Debatable.”

***

“This feels weird.”

“What feels weird? Is the baby okay? Do we—”

Okoye chuckled and held up a hand before M’Baku could start panicking. “No, the baby’s fine; I’m fine. I meant… being here feels weird.”

They were settled in the bedroom; Okoye was sat upon the bed, supported by a mound of pillows as she opened and sorted suitcases of clothes, while M’Baku worked on putting things away in the closet and dresser.

He regarded her for a moment, leaning against the doorframe and cocking his head to the side. “I take it you’re not talking about being in the new apartment.”

“No, not really.” She sighed and tossed a shirt onto the growing pile to her left. “I mean, it’s weird to be in a new space… but I meant being here. In Wakanda. I’m not used to being separated from my team, especially when they’re in the field.”

“Ayo has everything handled.”

“Oh, I know. I have complete and total faith in Ayo. I’m just… used to being there for them. I’m not used to running things from afar and having everyone else do the dirty work.”

The corner of M’Baku’s mouth turned up in a soft smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know it’s not like that.”

“I know,” Okoye admitted, resuming her work in sorting through the clothes. “It just feels like it.”

***

The banquet hall of the palace was cast in a soft, golden glow. Boughs of flowers and greenery hung from the walls, making the room look like an ethereal, fantastical garden.

Fitting, Okoye thought with a slight smile as she watched Dewani and Shuri greet guests in turn, for an engagement party.

The two young women, despite the fact that they were supposed to be greeting the various guests, couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Their expressions were that of lovestruck smiles as they mooned over each other; every spare second that they weren’t talking to someone was spent holding each other’s hands or whispering in each other’s ears.

It was sweet, innocent.

And yet, Okoye couldn’t help but notice the gaps where Ayo, Aneka, and the other Dora Milaje off on the mission ought to be. She couldn’t help but feel disconnected from the moment, almost as though she didn’t belong there.

Because she didn’t. She was supposed to be leading the team to recover the biological warfare weaponry; she was supposed to be keeping her friends safe.

Did Ayo feel like this every time she had to stay behind on a mission? Did Aneka feel the same sense of detachment in the face of soft music and cultured conversation?

“Okoye!”

Okoye smiled and came back to the present as Dewani pulled her into a hug. Sense of displacement or not, she was genuinely happy for the two young women. “Congratulations. I feel like this has been a long time coming.”

“It has,” Dewani agreed with a grin. “I basically knew from the moment I met Shuri that I wanted to marry her.”

“Stop!” Shuri smiled bashfully. “You did not!”

“I did too! I knew there wouldn’t ever be anyone as wonderful or beautiful as you in the entire world.”

Okoye couldn’t help but beam, swept along in their excited energy. “You two will do well together. I can’t remember the last time I saw a couple that connects and communicates as well as you two do.”

“Thank you, General,” Shuri said. “How’s the baby?”

“Growing well; they really like when I eat mangos.”

“Do you have any ultrasound pictures?” Dewani asked excitedly.

“Actually, yes,” Okoye said, reaching for her kimoyo beads. “We had the latest ultrasound a few days ago.”

Dewani and Shuri both cooed at the still image of the baby.

“It’s hard to believe that I’ll be an aunt in less than half a year,” Dewani remarked as she studied the ultrasound image. “And you will, too, through me.”

“Actually, we’ll both be aunts twice over,” Shuri pointed out. “Since T’Challa and Nakia are having a baby, too.”

Dewani’s expression sobered. “Shit, we’re going to be on babysitting duty, aren’t we?”

“Bast, I didn’t even think about that.”

Okoye chuckled as she closed out of the picture. “You two will have everything handled. I have complete and utter faith in your abilities.”

“You’re going to be completely and utterly disappointed, then,” Dewani muttered, half-sarcastic and half-serious.

Shuri nudged Dewani in the shoulder. “Come on. It won’t be that bad.”

“What won’t be that bad?” M’Baku practically materialized behind Okoye, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Okoye reassured him. “And we were just talking about how Princess Shuri and your sister’s future babysitting capabilities.”

“You’ll have your hands full,” M’Baku teased. “Jabari babies can present quite a challenge to the… uninitiated.”

“I’m sure my technical know-how and modern sensibilities will suit me just fine,” Shuri retorted, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Hanuman, are you two going to be like this for the rest of our lives?” Dewani asked, smirking despite herself.

“Probably,” Okoye said.

“Definitely,” M’Baku corrected. “And I think your brother’s nearly ready to start his speech, so I thought it best we find some seats.”

“Finally!” Shuri hissed. “He’s always late for everything!”

Dewani snickered. “It’s because he spends so much time looking at Nakia.”

***

The engagement party was lovely. Tasteful. And tasty –both she and the baby had been fond of the buffet choices.

T’Challa’s speech was equal parts heartfelt and humorous –and led to about five minutes of sibling banter afterwards, which had everyone in attendance thoroughly entertained.

All in all, it was a relaxing, enjoyable evening.

And yet, Okoye still felt oddly on edge. She couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that she wasn’t in the right place –or the lingering worries about her friends and team were doing in Brazil.

She opened the door to her new apartment –she’d almost gone to her old place out of habit—and immediately sighed at the sight of all the boxes strewn across the space.

No, “displaced” didn’t even begin to cover what she was feeling.

“What’s wrong?” M’Baku asked, ever sensitive to her moods.

“I want to go back to field work,” Okoye blurted out. “Once the baby’s born.”

“Okay,” M’Baku said after a moment. He led her to the couch –one of the other things they’d gotten set up during their first wave of unpacking and organizing—and gently helped her sit down before taking off her shoes for her. “If that’s what you want.”

Okoye craned her neck to look at him as he put her shoes away by the door. “Really? That’s all you have to say about it?”

M’Baku shrugged. “I know not being there with your fellow soldiers is eating at you, ‘koye. I know how much your team means to you. If you need to be more involved after the baby’s born… I don’t see what right I have to deny you.”

Okoye frowned. “You don’t like it, though.”

M’Baku sighed as he sat down next to her. He scrubbed his hand over his face, then carefully lifted her legs into her lap and started massaging at her feet, ankles, and calves. “I’ve never liked the idea of losing you, Okoye. My father lost both his wives… the idea of raising our child without you doesn’t sit well with me, but the idea life without you doesn’t sit well with me either. That didn’t stop you from doing your job before the baby came into the picture, so I don’t see why it should stop things now.”

“But the baby changes things,” Okoye insisted.

“They do and they don’t. I take it there are other Dora who have kids and serve on field missions?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then I don’t see why it should be any different for you.” M’Baku gave her a serious look. “I’ll support whatever choice you make, ‘koye. You know I will.”

“I do.” She latched onto one of his hands and gently kissed his knuckles. “I just… I don’t like not being there. I don’t like not being able to help. I’ve always taken an active role as General. Sitting back and letting everyone else do everything feels… wrong.”

“I know.” He leaned forward to kiss her gently, then ran his thumb up and down the length of her neck. “Look, we still have four months to figure all this out. We don’t have to solve everything tonight.”

“True.”

“Besides, there are other, more entertaining things we could be focusing on right now.”

Okoye smirked as she looped her arms around his neck. “Such as?”

M’Baku’s hand slid suggestively up her thigh. “The fact that we both need to shower, but we only have one full bathroom.”

“Goodness.” Okoye pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I suppose it would be best to share and conserve water.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

She chuckled as she leaned in to kiss him properly. “Lead the way, my love.”