silent rehearsal

Huntress- Part Three: I Have To Go

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E2, so (duh)warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two

You lie awake in bed. So much had happened in just under a week. You were tired -obviously you were tired- but you didn’t feel like sleeping.

This…"bunker" wasn’t your home. Not yet.
The amount of crazy events that had happened had thrown you out of it so much you’d reached a point where you had no idea what to feel. So many questions raced through your mind but how could you pick any to focus on?

The bandage in your foot was fraying and in desperate need of changing…maybe you could find a first aid kit?
Instantly, you reached to your right side where your backpack always was. You throw your head back “idiot.”.
All of your belongings were…well, still in England.
You hoped Mick would maybe be able to find a piece of his spewed heart to send you some of it…you weren’t desperate enough to call him yet.

With an excuse to move about, you threw your hoodie back on and headed out. You waited the moment you opened your door, hearing voices.
“How long did it take you to feel like you fit in?” It was Mary.
Mary was your Dad’s Mum. She was technically your Grandma but it seemed too strange to say it aloud. She was nice. Spaced out, but nice.
“I’m not sure if I do fit in.” that was Cas.
An Angel…apparently those are real. But they didn’t seem as holy and glorified as the Bible made out in Primary school. All those hymns they made you sing in assembly and these were who you were praying to? Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Angels were more like humans than everyone was willing to admit.

You crept along the hallway to see the pair of them watching you. Unfortunately your rehearsed silent steps weren’t silent enough for an Angel’s mojo. “Hello, Y/N.” Cas nodded, he hadn’t talked to you much but you could tell he cared about Sam and Dean.
Maybe even more than Mary did.

“Hi…” you say awkwardly.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Mary asked.
“Yeah I uh…” you gulped, not used to so much concern from anyone but your Mum “was just looking for a first aid kit.”

“Why?” Cas was to the point.

You glance down at your foot “It needs changing-” Before you could finish whatever you were about to say, Castiel walked forward.

“Here.” He knelt down and put his hand over your foot. You tensed up. But, the soreness left along with a small glow beneath his palm.
“My powers aren’t all that strong at the moment, but that should heal the worst of it.”
“Thank you.” You smile at him, still not completely over the fact that he had such an ability.
He nodded sternly before completely disappearing and you try your best not to look shocked.

“You should get some sleep.” Mary advised.
You wanted to say ‘You too’ but you couldn’t manage it.
“Goodnight.” She squeezed your hand in hers momentarily before heading over to her room.
You stood in the bunker, watching her open her room and walk in like a routine shed been doing for ages.
Maybe she felt like she didn’t fit in, but she sure knew how to hide it.

Sleepily, you switch the light off before heading back to your bed and lying down. Come on sleep, do your thing.

You wake to the smell of bacon, the sound of voices, and the feeling of being more tired than you started off as.
You didn’t need to get changed: this was all you had.
You just put the same boots back on and patted your hair down with your fingers.
Thankfully your gun, phone, and headphones were still in your pockets.

As silly as it sounded, you didn’t want to go towards the voices. You wanted to change into your favourite shirt, charge your phone and hug your Mum. You wanted to go to school and see your friends. Hell, you even missed the rain.

Instead, you took a deep breath and headed out the room.
Before you’d made it past the first floorboard Mary stopped you. “Y/N, here.” She handed you a hairbrush and toothbrush. Supplies she was brave enough to find…or ask for.
“Thank you.” You took them gratefully and placed them in the room you’d slept in, giving your hair a quick brush over and your teeth a good clean before leaving again.
Mary was gone.

The smell of bacon drew you to the kitchen, you hovered in the doorway, considering turning back  when your Dad spied you.
“Sleep well?” He asked it so loudly and confidently you wondered how you could be his daughter. Sure, you weren’t a complete wreck but you didn’t exactly have tonnes of confidence.
You nodded and mustered a weak smile “Yeah, thanks.”
He frowned but smiled anyway.
“Hey kid, you like bacon?” Dean glanced up from the frying pan.
“Doesn’t everyone?” You answer, trying to seem happier than you felt.

Your Dad pulled a chair out, gesturing for you to sit. It was next to his.
You sat down, looking over the news papers and documents he had out on the table. There was so much research, but what for you had no idea.
“Do you have anything else on you, besides the gun?” He asked gently, having noticed you were wearing the same thing again, only your hair was tied to the side.

You shake your head before adding a “Just my phone an headphones. I don’t know whether to call Mick or not.”

“We’ll get you some clothes and anything else you might need.” He encouraged. You noticed he’d ignored your suggestion.

“Is that bacon?” Mary’s voice makes you smile a little more.

“It’s probably cold by now.” Your Dad pointed out.

“And? It’s bacon.” She took a bite and grinned.

“I think I found us a case.” Mary then piped up.

Online?” Your Dad seemed impressed yet suspicious.
“No…I asked Dean to pick me up some papers.”
“I didn’t know you were gonna look for a case!” Dean protested, clearly more annoyed about this.
“I wasn’t planning on it but I just found it on the page!” 
She explained the case and you listened, taking in the information and trying to assemble it in your mind. Taking a theoretical approach was something the Chapter House seemed to encourage a lot more than you thought necessary. 
There wasn’t much field work for a hunter without any hunts. Still, you were fully trained with a variety of weapons and hand to hand combat. Even if there wasn’t much actual practice.

“Look, I figured that maybe hunting will help me get back into the swing of things.” She argued her case well.


Dean and your Dad got up to go after Mary who headed out to pack a bag. You got up to follow but all three of them stopped and turned around as though you’d thrown a knife at them. “What?” You squinted.

“Sorry kid, but you’re not hunting.” Your Uncle scfoffed.

“And how old were you when you started?”
“That’s not the point.” Your Dad sighed “It’s dangerous.”
“I know.” You nodded.
“You’re young and I don’t want you getting hurt.” He continued.
And? You guys are old and I don’t want you cramping out…I know how to hunt.” You argue, pushing past them.

Mary grabbed your arm to stop you. You shook it off immediately and glared at her. 
“I say she’s coming…Mother knows best.” Mary smirked.
You relaxed a little and smiled back.

The four of you stood outside an old abandoned house, decaying wood ready to splinter it’s next victim bordered the windows up where small rays of light squeezed through the cracks.
Keeping a straight face, you didn’t want to admit how happy you were that you were actually hunting. Sure, the barriers didn’t protect everything back home but it was enough to mean Hunt’s were rare. You hunted no more than once a month…once a fortnight in the summer.

Your Uncle Dean went first, you last. The door silently opened, no noise could be heard besides the quiet footsteps of you all. You closed the door behind yourself and got your gun out. “Stay close to me.” Your Dad ordered and you rolled your eyes but nodded.
There wasn’t much. Just cobwebs and rat droppings which was pretty standard when it came to haunted houses.

Despite your Dad’s firm words you slipped away when the door to a basement caught your eye. Only, a mumbled “Dammit.” Made you look back. You could just make out your Dad and Uncle and hear them clicking their torches only nothing was shining.
“What the hell? These were on full?”

“Y/N!” Your Dad looked terrified when he saw you were almost an entire two feet away from him. You sighed and wandered back over, only your torch light also switched off. Now it was pitch black.

You instantly got out your phone and switched the torch on.
Two faces stared at you in confusion.
“How did you…?” Your Uncle looked amazed. Maybe he’d start shouting sorcery and throw you in a dungeon: “She’s a witch!”. 

“It’s called a phone, Granddad.” You remarked sarcastically- he shot you a bitch face.

You then realised you had the say in where you went next. you smiled and headed back to the basement you wanted to explore. There was always something creepy in a basement.

This time a door slamming shut made you shine your torchlight in the direction of the sound. 
“Sam!” Mary cried.
She didn’t call your name. She just repeated those two as they tried to bash the door down.

You raced over just as they managed to tear away enough wood to open it up. There was a boy, no older than five…maybe four. He was staring up at Mary with wide scared eyes, they were glossy and hopeful but before you could watch what he did next an iron bar swung through him and he disappeared.

Mary had a handprint of harsh red on her, but it wasn’t an attack. It was far too neat and defined to be one. It was a parley. 

“Okay so when are gonna go ask around? Get some information.” Mary piped up, walking in on the three of you researching already. You forgot how unused to the internet and modern technology Mary was. You thought you had it bad, but she unintentionally time-traveled. She was forced into a whole new life style.

“We’re already doing it.” Your Dad laughed gently, before swiveling his laptop round so Mary could see.
You stared at your phone screen, not used to researching much. There was a huge library in the Chapter House fr the monsters and there was never a case complicated enough to search through police files or anything.
You’d found a few old newspapers but that was something anyone could do. You needed to find more than that…you just didn’t know how.

“We should go burn the bones.” Dean decided, slamming his laptop shut, followed by his brother. Mar agreed but before she could stand properly she stumbled and held her head in her hand. Her eyes squinted in pain as she groaned.
“Mom?” Sam…your Dad…rushed to her side, but she pushed them off.
“I’m fine.”She lied.
“Maybe you should…stay here?” Your Dad suggested, leaving her dumbfounded.
“We’ll be back as soon as possible, Y/N, stay with her and call if anything happens.

With that they left the pair of you staring at the closed Motel room door. 
You didn’t even have his number.

“Are you okay?” You asked, sitting down on one of the beds.
“I uh,” She sat down next to you, fiddling with her thumbs in her lap “I’m not sure.”

“Me neither.” You laughed quietly through your breath.
“I just…the room looked so much like when Sam…” She trailed off and wiped her eyes even though she hadn’t started crying.
You didn’t know what to say.You weren’t one hundred percent sure what she meant. All you knew was that she had died when your Dad and Uncle were very young.
“What happened?” You didn’t want to press but you were curious.
“I suppose I should tell you…”
You listened in awe as she explained the story. A yellow eyed demon sounded far worse than anything you’d experienced in London. Or before you moved down to the SouthEast. 

“I know it sounds strange, but…” She paused, as if rehearsing what to say “I know that that little boy wasn’t trying to hurt me. He asked for my help.”
“He looked scared.” You agreed, expanding on her point.

You watched as she sat up, taking the telephone and putting it to her ear. She asked about speaking to someone, the words “I’m not everyone else.” stuck in your mind.

You and Mary crept through the Haunted house once again. Only this time with more of a plan. For starters they’d burnt the wrong bones.
This time you knew you wanted to see what was in the basement. You went straight for it, only Mary held you back. “Be careful.” She whispered, before nodding.

You crept down the steps, hearing a faint door slam followed by the shouts of Mary. You raced back up the steps to free her but the door slammed, sending you tumbling back down the stairs. Your arm scraping against a piece of old wood, gashing your arm. Blood trickled through the graze but you shook it off, determined to see more than a flight of stairs.
As far as you could see, there wasn’t much. Maybe the hunch you had was wrong. Of course it was, what Hunter does a case on a hunch?

In attempt to get the door open, the sounds of more voices, shouting, and crashing could be heard. It sounded like your Dad and Uncle had found Mary.
A flicker of movement flashed in your peripheral vision. Instantly, your head turned and a small child -again no older than 5- was staring up at you.
Their pale bony hand lifted slowly, pointing at a boarded up area you’d failed to notice. “He’s still here.” They whispered, flickering in and out of existence. 
You kicked at the wood, luckily it had rotted due to age and fell away easily. Another kick. More wood crashed to the floor.

More crashed up stairs.
More shouts.
You even heard your name.

As another decaying plank fell to the floor you crawled through the gap and there he was. A pile of bones making up a skeleton hunched in the corner.You grimaced and grabbed the salt you had on hand, shaking it over the skeleton. The smell was almost unbearable.
Your lighter took a few flicks but eventually it lit. You threw it on the bones, not waiting around to see if they disappeared or not. Instead, you raced back out of the hole and up the stairs. “Thank you.” Came a whisper.
You turned round but no one was there…not anymore. You continued to stare, just in case they decided to show themselves, or maybe they’d whisper something else and this time you could hear them properly.
The door swung open before you’d reached it, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the bare room. 

It was your Dad. out of breath and covered in dirt. But he was grinning at you. You might say he was proud.

So many questions ran through your mind.

In less than a fortnight you’d managed all this. You’d met a side to the family you didn’t know you had, a Father you’d been lead to believe was dead, and moved to a country you were told was too unsafe to go near.
Your Mum was still with you- the engraved initials on the side of your pistol.

Sat in the room you were okay with calling your own, you stood up from when the door opened. It was Mary, she looked happy but also something seemed to be troubling her. “Hi, sweetheart.” She smiled, taking a step closer to you. She took your hands in hers and squeezed them gently.
“I want you to understand that when I say this, it’s nobody’s fault. It’d my decision. I’m telling you first because I think you’ll understand a little more than my boys will.” She paused, taking in a deep breath which made you even more curious “I have to go.” 

It was barely a whisper. Perhaps she was scared someone would overhear, but maybe she just didn’t want to say it. You nodded slowly, understanding but also wanting to ask her so many more questions.
“I haven’t known you for even a week but you’re beautiful, feisty, clever, and already a brilliant Hunter. You’re my Grand daughter, Y/N. And I’m proud to say it.”
You smile, feeling your eyes tear up from the kindness “I want you to take care of your Dad for me. And your Uncle Dean. They’re really gonna need their girl.” She sniffed, taking your face in her hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. She then let go and hovered in the doorway, smiling kindly before closing it behind herself.

You didn’t follow after her. You waited in the room. Not moving.
You’d already lost someone. 

You liked Mary, you really did. Could you cope loosing another person?
Were they really lost? 

It must have been no more than ten minutes later when the door to the Bunker echoed it’s crestfallen hallways. Followed by a long creak, as if declaring her gone.
Nothing but silence crept through the building as you felt your new family’s worlds fall away.

Huntress- P4: Like Me

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  • Can I request 14 with Jackson please
  • 14 w jackson? Pelase?

14) You are seated next to your bias on a plane

Member: Got7′s Jackson x Y/N

Type: Fluff

You curled and uncurled your tense fingers, gripping tight to the arm wrests on either side of you. The plane hadn’t taken off yet, but you were dreading the initial feeling of being lifted from the ground and into the air. 

You looked around with nervous eyes and bit on your lip softly. No one else seemed to be even the slightest bit concerned with the situation. Husbands talked calmly to wives, business men fiddled with stock options on their laptops, Jackson Wang sauntered down the aisle.  

You paused for a moment, furrowing your brows as your mind went over the last part of that thought. 

Jackson. Wang. Sauntered. Down. The. Aisle. 

You tilted your head, taking in his muscular frame, a loose t-shirt hanging from his chest. He ran a tired hand through his disheveled hair, tugging on a baseball cap shortly after.  His eyes searched the rows, confident in his direction. 

You had been an unapologetic Got7 fan for years now, falling into their style of Korean pop shortly after their debut. Your family didn’t necessarily understand why you were so interested in music from the other side of the world, but you didn’t care. The beats, rhythms, and words spoke to you more than most western music could. Korean pop, and Got7 by extension, had brought immense happiness to you, and you wouldn’t shy away from that pride. 

For a moment you thought you were dreaming. You held your breath as he approached your row, eying each person, and granted a kind smile to those who returned his eye contact. You felt your own creepiness emanating as you continued watching him, unable to stop yourself. His face wore slight stubble and he was bare of any makeup. You were sure he was self conscious in this state, but you thought he looked incredible. 

He glowed. He radiated. He shone. 

“Sorry, I think I have the window,” he said lowly to the woman sitting to the left of you in the isle. 

Upon entering the correct terminal, you were aware that your plane was sold out. You had some idea, as only middle seats were left when you booked your ticket, but held out hope that you’d be able to switch your circumstances upon arrival. You now silently screamed to you past self as the isle seat woman nodded, moving to allow Jackson into the row. You nodded as well, creating a small pocked of room to allow him to slide by, landing with a plop in the window seat. 

I just want to say thank you to my mother, you rehearsed silently in your head, your eyes nearly tearing up with happiness. For giving birth to me and allowing me to live in this moment. I want to say thank you to God, for giving me life in a day and age when Got7 exists. I want to thank Ms. Hainey, my eighth grade biology teacher for teaching me that dreams do come true…

“Sorry,” Jackson said quietly as you took your spot again. 

You nodded your head, giving him a small smile. You were unsure if you’d actually be able to use your voice to speak at any point of this flight. It was too much strain and you knew you were choked up by emotion. 

As you settled down once again, you actively tried to avoid Jackson’s presence, looking anywhere but at him. The longer you ignored, the more aware you became. It was almost as if he begged for attention without begging at all. You averted your gaze, quietly gasping to yourself as the rest of the members of Got7 struggled onto the plane. You furrowed your brows, reflecting on where you were going. 

Home. You cursed at yourself. You were a lousy Got7 stan.  You had been studying for exams, and were now on the flight back home to visit your family for the holidays. You knew Got7 had been doing a US tour, but you didn’t have any idea of the schedule. All you knew was that as soon as you landed, you and your friends would prepare for their concert, which would be the next night.

You looked up again, sighing as each member encountered a stranger with an embarrassed smile, trying to sidestep their way into their respective seats. Some of the members had snagged seats together, while others like Jackson had to make due with being separated. Jinyoung grinned broadly at Jackson as he squeezed into the window seat directly in front of us, spitting rapid fire Korean as he went. Jackson let out a loud and cackling laugh, nodding at Jinyoung’s brief words. 

“Um hi,” you said shortly, not being able to contain yourself any longer. You winced at the simplicity of your statement and waited for Jackson to acknowledge you. 

“Hi,” he smiled, unwinding his headphones from around his phone. The flight was only a few hours and you knew he would probably sleep. He deserved to after his schedules. 

“I um…I just wanted to say…” you began quietly, trying to recall any rehearsal of any speech you had prepared for this type of situation. You took a deep breath before beginning to speak again, attempting to calm your nerves. “I’m a huge fan. I’ve listened to Got7 since you’ve debuted…and I want you to know how wonderful and hardworking you all are.” 

Jackson’s face, which had initially been covered with confusion, slowly eased into a wide smile, his ears turning red from the attention. 

“Really?” he gasped, his tone had completely changed from the quiet man he was only moments before. 

“Really,” you nodded. “I’m actually going to your show tomorrow night. Ahgase are really happy with you Jackson. You’ve grown into a man we can all be proud of.”

“No, no,” Jackson said quickly. “We’re proud of ahgase. We’ll grow and get even better to match how amazing you all are.”

He smacked the back of JInyoung’s seat excitedly. Jinyoung turned, shooting Jackson a weary glare and pulled his earbuds from his ears. “Hm?”

“She’s an iGot7!” Jackson gasped, motioning to you.

Jinyoung smiled kindly. “Thank you for supporting us.”

“Thank you for giving ahgase wonderful music,” you nodded in return. You beamed with satisfaction at yourself. Not in a million years did you think you’d ever be able to say anything like that to the men you had loved and cherished from afar. 

Jinyoung nodded again, slinking back into his seat and returning his headphones. Jackson continued to smile at you, something you could only associate as disbelief on his face. 

“I just wanted to let you know…how loved and appreciated you are,” you nodded. “Now that I’ve said that, get some rest. You deserve it.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped with a small laugh as he continued to look at you. He had never had the privilege of riding along side a fan before. The managers and coordinators for the tour usually managed to block them off sections of the plane so they could be given privacy, but with a previous flight cancellation, they had to accept what they could find. He couldn’t have been any more happy than to be placed beside a fan. 

He continued to watch you as you readjusted, looking away from him and up to the flight attendant who was addressing some safety procedures. The plane began slow forward motion, triggering you to once again grab tightly for the arm rests on either side of you. 

“Hey,” Jackson cooed softly. “Are you alright?”

“Not a huge fan of flying,” you muttered, keeping your eyes locked shut. “Lift off, turbulence, landing…not things I generally fantasize about.”

Jackson giggled, shaking his head as he placed his large hand on top of yours. You slowly opened one eye, then the other as you analyzed the situation before you. He lifted your hand from the rest slowly, intertwining your fingers. “It’ll be alright…what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you squeaked out. You were surprised by how soft his hands were. You had never really thought about how exactly his hands would feel, but you didn’t think soft would have been the first descriptor. 

“It’ll be alright, Y/N,” he nodded. “It’s okay to be scared. Being scared means you’re about to do something brave.”

“Flying isn’t brave,” you muttered, shaking your head. “It’s the most convenient method of transportation.”

Jackson tilted his head, a small noise of indignation falling from his lips. “Flying isn’t brave? Have you not heard the concepts for our past two albums.”

You bit your tongue and grimace. Good job, Y/N. 

“Flying, literally or figuratively, is brave,” Jackson continued. “Humans weren’t meant to fly, but we do it anyway.”

“You’re right,” you croaked, your eyes sealed shut again as the plane bumped along the runway, attempting to lift into the sky. 

“Of course I’m right,” Jackson giggled. “We didn’t write two albums for nothing.”

You chuckled as well, trying to tell yourself to loosen your grip on Jackson’s hand. You had to be nearly breaking his fingers by now. As the flight eased into the sky, you found yourself slowly opening your eyes again and looking over to Jackson. His gaze hadn’t left your direction in the entirety of takeoff and he smiled as you finally became less tense. You let out a deep breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding and looked over to the woman on the opposite side of you. She was in her mid to late sixties and smiled kindly in your direction. 

“Nervous traveler?” she nodded. You suddenly became aware that she had been watching you almost as closely as Jackson had. 

“A bit,” you nodded, your hand limp in Jackson’s still. You were scared to move it and break contact. If it was an inconvenience, surely he would retract his fingers from the situation. 

“At least you have your boyfriend,” she smiled, her hand instantly flying up to her mouth in embaressment. “You two are dating, right?”

“Oh, I - we-” you stuttered as Jackson leaned over so he was able to look at the older woman as well. 

“We are! We just made our three year anniversary,” he grinned, shooting a wink at you. You hissed in amusement, unable to believe him. 

“You two make a very pretty couple,” the older woman gushed. “I wish you lots of happiness for the future.”

“Thank you,” you managed, trying to keep an attack of laughter from escaping your lips. 

The woman nodded again, lifting her book to signify the end of your exchange. You looked back over to Jackson who leaned into his seat, a large grin on his face. 

“She’s not wrong,” Jackson whispered. “We are a pretty couple. Mostly because of you though.”

“Jackson Wang,” you muttered, more as a warning than a statement. 

“Really! Ahgase are the most beautiful people any of us have ever seen. But you…you’re something else,” he grinned. “You said you are going to the fan meet?

“I am,” you nodded. “P2, so I’ll be seeing you again.”

“Good,” he nodded, squeezing your hand lightly. “I can’t wait to see that pretty face more at ease on the ground.” 

Originally posted by kookihyunnie

2Jae Update

Last night, after an intensely silent and aggressively avoidant rehearsal, members saw YoungJae and Jaebum talking together quietly on a bench in the hallway. We then witnessed them holding hands as Jaebum walked YoungJae back to his dormitory. It seems 2Jae is okay. Thank god. Now let’s just get to work on markson.



The Theremini is a re-imagination of one of the oldest electronic musical instruments in history, and Bob Moog’s first love – the Theremin. Its design fuses the experience of performing with an instrument you don’t actually touch, with a powerful sound engine derived from Moog’s award winning synthesizer, Animoog. The Theremini guarantees immediate success to any player at any skill level, while providing new ways to experiment with music, education, and gestural control.

Assistive pitch quantization allows each player to adjust the instrument’s level of playing difficulty. At the maximum position, the Theremini will play every note in a selected scale perfectly, making it impossible to play a wrong note. As this control is decreased, more expressive control of pitch and vibrato becomes possible. When set to minimum, the Theremini will perform as a traditional Theremin - the analog heterodyning oscillator controls pitch and there is absolutely no assistance.

A built-in tuner supplies real-time visual feedback of each note as it is played, as well as its proximity to perfection. This is useful for correcting a user’s playing position, and educating younger players about pitch and scales.

The presets section allows you to select from 32 wave or wavetable-based patches, store a selected scale & root note, set and recall a specified playing range, and specify per-patch settings for the included stereo delay.

Recessed in the top of the Theremini is a compact speaker perfect for private rehearsal and quick setup anywhere. Silent rehearsal is also possible via the front panel headphone jack. Simply plug in ear-buds or headphones and the built-in speaker becomes silent.

For live performance and gestural control, the rear panel features two line level audio outputs, a pitch CV output with selectable range, and a mini USB jack for MIDI I/O and connectivity.


• Pitch correction w/ selectable scales and root note

• Built in tuner allows you to learn pitch and scales

• 32 Wavetable based presets

• Built in speaker

• Headphone output

• Two ¼" audio outputs

• Single Pitch CV output w/ selectable range

• User selectable scale and root note (stored per preset)

• User selectable range: highest note and lowest note (stored per preset)

• Adjustable Stereo Ping-Pong Delay

• Removable pitch antenna - built in storage compartment on bottom-side

• Built in 3/8” Mic stand and Camera stand adaptor

• High quality rubberized feet


LCD SCREEN:  128 X 64 pixel LCD with white backlight.

HEADPHONE JACK:  1/8” (3.5mm) TRS headphone jack. Inserting a headphone plug will disable the internal speaker

VOLUME KNOB:  Controls headphone volume and built in speaker volume.

PITCH BIAS KNOB:  Determines the amount of pitch correction from 0% to 100%

SCALE BUTTON:  Select from a list of built in scales

ROOT BUTTON:  Select the root note to be used by the scale

SETUP BUTTON:  Provides access the setup and calibration functions - also acts as a shift key.

DELAY LENGTH BUTTON:  Selects the length of delay: SHORT, MEDIUM, LONG, or OFF

DELAY AMOUNT KNOB:  Controls the amount of delay mixed with the dry signal.

PRESET KNOB:  Selects the preset played from a built in list of 32 presets


LEFT OUTPUT:  Line Level ¼” unbalanced TS

RIGHT OUTPUT:Line Level  ¼” unbalanced TS

CV OUTPUT:  ¼” TS – 0-5V or 0-10V selectable

USB:  MiniB USB2.0 for USB MIDI - Note data in not yet supported



POWER JACK:  12VDC/1.2A from 100–240VAC external supply(included)

DIMENSIONS:22.75”L  x 6.5”D x 15”H w/antenna (4”H without)

WEIGHT: 3lbs


I love you, But

My heart was beating quickly as I silently rehearsed lines

A million ways to say goodbye

A month worth of convincing myself that, in fact

This was what I needed – to move on

You were so unassuming, you tried to soothe me

I talked, I repeated all I had rehearsed

You held me, let me cry,

And heard not a word that I said

Nearly twenty solid minutes of calm before your explosion

And like a torrent of anger, pulling me under

Gone, back again

Your words held me up against a wall

 I took it on the chin, then the cheek

Then the heart, your words like guided bullets

Your manipulation was appalling, yet it held me in fear

Every nightmare I had ever dreamed you weren’t

You broke, eventually

I didn’t. Hours, I listened to you rave in heartbreak

You said “But I love you”

I said “I love you, but”.  

sing me like a choir

kiss me on the mouth and set me free

Summary:  The post-episode 7 fic I never wrote, when Yuuri and Victor finally find themselves alone. There are conversations to be had in touches instead of words, on lips and tongues that say nothing at all. 

Word Count: 2,441

A/N: I reached a follower milestone recently and opened to requests, if any of my followers had any, and this is the first of a few to come. This is for you, @jollysailorswan - I hope it’s what you were looking for!

You can also read this here on AO3.

When Yuuri was twenty, Phichit caught him kissing the framed poster of Victor Nikiforov he had brought with him to Detroit.

This isn’t what it looks like had been the only possible defense, and in Yuuri’s defense, it hadn’t exactly been what it had looked like. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been kissing a framed picture of his figure-skating idol and undeniable celebrity crush: that much had, unfortunately, been true. But he hadn’t been making out with it in an embarrassing sexual fantasy. He hadn’t even really been kissing it, if he wanted to get technical (which he did). Yuuri had been sad.

That hadn’t been the justification that Phichit had been expecting, and he’d stopped his teasing there, from where he’d been leaning against Yuuri’s bedroom doorframe with one hand over his heart and one across his forehead in a dramatic recreation of what was apparently Yuuri’s swooning fancies. Yuuri remembers pushing the frame face-down against the rumpled blue sheets on his half-made bed, pressing each corner down, wondering if it would even be possible to break it here if he just kept pushing hard enough. The frame, of course, never broke. So Yuuri had been left sitting there, ignoring the sharp, burning warning behind his eyes of mortification and shame, with his roommate still staring and the image of Victor Nikiforov still dancing in his mind.

“If he knew I’ve been trying to skate like him all this time,” Yuuri had finally said, “he’d hate it.”

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anonymous asked:

Hi, I don't know if you take any prompts, but I have, so,imagine, Scully never gives Will up, three of them lives together and one day William( still kid) tell them that he wishes he had a little brother or sister. Can you write something how M/S handle this situation and Scully really wants another baby. Nothing angst( maybe a little bit), just fluffy fluff. Thank you!

Anon, let me thank you dearly for this prompt, and also apologize from the bottom of my heart to have kept you waiting so long to answer it. 
Thank you @alldolleduppink for the being the best friend/beta/motivation in the world, and also thank you @therobbinsnest for your kind words and never ending support, I love you both 😘

As requested, nothing too angsty, but a major MSR fluffy fluff fic! 🎉❤️


Mulder ties up the small black Converse sneaker, making the laces form into bunny ears before they turn into a knot. William offers his other foot so he could do the same to that one. The question comes out of the blue, dripping out from his small lips with genuine interest.

“Daddy, does mommy have a baby in her tummy?”

Mulder lifts up his head to look into his son’s eyes. Scully had just excused herself from Will’s room — he can hear water running in the bathroom — and he doesn’t know if he should be sad or relieved that she isn’t here to hear their son’s question.

“No, she doesn’t, why do you ask?”

“My friend Billy’s mom has got a baby in her tummy,” he simply states, but his eyes stay inquiring.

“Does she?” Mulder answers to see if he’ll continue his explanation.

“Yeah, she’s got a big tummy and all,” Will says, rubbing his own stomach to emphasize his words, which makes Mulder chuckle. He retrieves his feet from his father’s grasp and looks up as Mulder comes back to a standing position.

“How come Billy’s mom has a baby in her tummy, daddy?” he asks as his father runs his thumb over the ridge of the coffee mug Scully just abandoned on the bureau of their son’s bedroom before rushing out. With a sigh, he grabs a comb to discipline the short red hair Will has inherited from his mother.

Somehow, Mulder knows he’s in for one of those conversations where his 3 year-old will soon relentlessly ask a question on top of another. He loves how curious and intelligent William is. Whenever these avalanches of questions happen, he can’t help but think about Samantha at the same age, perpetually asking her big brother to explain the world around them. She had looked up to him as if he was the smartest person on earth when he was really only four years older than her.

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