Emily's original Facebook Status: Does anyone else have this weird THING with needing to figure out what instrument any given character would play in band?
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Title: Sonata 106 Hammerklavier Must Die
Prompt: Encouragement before a piano concert in front of a large/important audience.
Notes: Beethoven's piano sonata No. 29, also known as Sonata 106 Hammerklavier, is generally agreed to be, in musical terms, Really Freakin' Hard. Here are some Youtube videos.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Austria, Hungary
Genre(s): Friendship, pre-romance if you want.
Summary: While the world falls in little pieces, Austria and Hungary share a quiet moment with the piano.
Notes: I am lucky I don't have a flist to spam as I continue to get all this crap on here. Other than that, no notes, really, just a fic that's way more Chibitalia-canon-y than historical-canon-y.
"The End of the World," which does not appear on this list but which
would, now that I think about it, fit right in.
The woman beams. The woman glows—she literally glows. "You're perfect for each other! Now, go live happily ever after!" And then—
She looks at the man she's destined to spend the rest of forever with, the man who will only ever love her for all eternity. He looks agitated. He looks like he might say something angry. Mostly, he looks inhumanly beautiful.
"Um... what just happened?" she asks.
A scowl on his face. It's perfect. "I can't tell you."
"You wouldn't understand."
"We just met five minutes ago. How would you know what I can understand?"
"You wouldn't understand."
She accepts his proclamation and judgment, as she is fated to accept all he says. For, as she is beginning to know, he is perfect, and perfection is never wrong.
Our kitchen is infested with ants. Not tiny ants you can get rid of with a little poison. Not friendly A Bug's Life ants. Big, mean, scary ants. Remember those ants from the fourth Indiana Jones movie? If those ants saw our ants, they'd run screaming (they'd spontaneously develop vocal cords, okay?) for their ant mamas. Then they'd abruptly stop screaming on account of they got stepped on by ants.
Our ants are called carpenter ants, and there's a reason for that. Carpenter ants are not all that unusual in places where there's lots of wood. They like to eat people food, like cereal, candy, fruit, and small children. (Wait, Swift was joking? Oops.) Is it really surprising that they showed up in a place where we store all our food, all our cabinetry and furniture (including the refrigerator. What's up with that?) is made of wood, we have hardwood floors, and there's a sliding glass door that opens onto a deck made of— go on, guess what it's made of— wood?
(I'm starting to think whoever planned our house out didn't really think things through.)
My mother'll kill any ant she sees—Marie, too, if she's not feeling particularly squeamish and/or lazy and she didn’t watch A Bug's Life recently. My father stomps them with extreme prejudice. Who cares if he's barefoot? The squishing they make in his toes reminds him of their well-deserved pain!
That's half the people in our house. Olivia and Sean have this thing where We can't kill them! They don't know any better! Ants have families! Let's put them outside! Yeah, well, the ants with families who don't know any better are infesting our house. They've given up all right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of my cookies. These ants have proven that if we put them outside, they'll just come back in, back for our precious cereal (you know, that we keep in our wooden cupboards. That the carpenter ants can chew through. WTF, House Designer People?) I say it's time we start punishing their crimes and using the punished as examples. I'd do it myself, but I have this fundamental aversion to getting near anything icky.
Too bad the ants don't know that. A scene that actually happened:
ME: *gets a bowl of fruit out of the refrigerator; starts heading upstairs*
MY MOTHER: Don't bring that in your room.
ME: Why not?
MY MOTHER: You'll drop it and it'll stain your carpet.
ME: Nonsense. I'm always careful.
MY MOTHER: Or you'll leave the bowl on your desk.
ME: I will not.
MY MOTHER: Just eat down here....
ME: *stops paying attention because, out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving in my bangs*
MY MOTHER: Why are you shaking your head around like that?
ME: THERE WAS AN ANT IN MY HAIR! AN ANT! IN! MY HAIR! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! LOOK, THERE IT IS ON THE FLOOR! HOW DID AN ANT GET IN MY HAIR?
MY MOTHER: AAAAAAHHHHHH! STEP ON IT!
ME: I'M WEARING SOCKS! YOU STEP ON IT!
THE ANT: *scurries into hiding; awaits its next victim*
ME: *takes my fruit upstairs, away from the ants*
And that's not even an unusual occurrence. We have to examine food before we eat it. Cereal is sifted through; orange juice is either carried with one at all times or strained after being left alone for a few minutes; each strawberry has its leaves looked under. Once, I picked up a cookie and didn't see the ants until after I had bitten it. I don't think I slept that night. Needless to say, we threw that batch out. We did the same with all the taffy the other day. Not a big deal for me, since I don't like taffy, but Sean pitched a fit, and when Sean pitches a fit, everybody gets to hear it. I found one crawling on the inside of the microwave door after the microwave beeped (I looked through the tea in there very carefully.) You guys, I'm just not ready for indestructible radioactive ants.
I'm about thiiis close to waging actual warfare. I'll purchase poison and traps. To heck with people who complain about getting their feet caught or nearly dying because they can't tell sugar from borax. If poison and traps don't work, then I'll train my cats to kill all crawly things on sight (not that they will. Cats are notoriously hard to train, and ours are kind of stupid anyway. Willow, for example, is confused by the existence of such things as meat and fish, and is even more confused as to why her
owners staff would put them in her food bowl when they could be putting in, y'know, actual food. AJ routinely falls off furniture.) If When my cats prove useless allies in the war against the Buggers Formics, I'll pinch one of the parents' credit cards and hire an exterminator. When the ants eat the exterminator, I'll adapt a tactic the ancient Greeks are rumored to have used on enemy ships: I'll train a giant magnifying glass on our house.