#Affordable Spoken English Classes

[insightengy]

Dear parents,

Great day!

Pleased to inform you that a State Level Competition will be conducted at our institution. Drawing and Handwriting competitions will be conducted for one hour.

Drawing sheets, colour pencils, sketch pens, pencils with rubber tip, Doms sharpener, participation certificate, and chocolates will be provided at free of cost. Topics will be given for each standard.

Fees:

Drawing: Rs.150/- only.

Handwriting: Rs.150/- only.

District Level and State Level winners are announced and prizes and shields will be distributed!

You may invite your friends and family members. ALL THE VERY BEST WISHES!

Contact: Tr. Manikandan on 8870085410.

[eltis-sifil-blog]

Enroll in Symbiosis ELTIS Spoken English courses starting from 25th and 28th September 2024. Choose between regular (Monday to Friday) or weekend batches with both online and offline options available. Improve your English with courses ranging from Level A1 to B2+ over 60 hours of learning. Affordable fees starting from ₹3,800 online and ₹4,550 offline. Limited slots! Scan the QR code to register or contact info@eltis.edu.in / WhatsApp at 8055221628 for more details.

[barcaatthemoon]

in your corner || barcelona x teen!reader ||

the team shows up to your graduation when your parents don't.

it didn't feel right sitting in the back of a taxi. you should have been riding to your graduation with your family, but they had deemed your brother's track meet more important. they believed that one day, he'd be an olympian, despite the fact that you already were. it had always been like that in your family though, your brother's accomplishments outshining yours no matter the difference.

today, you graduated from school, which you had attended while also easing your way into soccer full time. anybody else would have thought that was a marvel in and of itself except for your parents. because it was you, they only questioned why you weren't top of your class. any bit of excellence on your part looked like the pinnacle of mediocracy in your parents' eyes.

in hindsight, yelling at them to just forget about you was not your best idea. it was why after this, you were packing up your things and moving them into a new apartment. there had been an opening in bruna's building, so you took it. you could easily afford the apartment with your salary at the club, especially not that you'd be getting starter time.

the taxi came to a stop, and you were careful in picking your facial expression for the day. this was a happy day, and you couldn't let your peers know how disappointed you were about your parents abandoning you. you kept a happy face on during the ceremony, one that was fake until you looked out into the crowd while you accepted your diploma to see your teammates.

it was unmistakablely every single one of them sitting there, including girls who you had briefly played with on the b and youth teams. your heart swelled with joy, and for the first time that day, your tears were happy ones. suddenly, you couldn't wait for the ceremony to end so you could go see them. each of those girls had become like family for you, and it was your first taste of what family was supposed to be like. they were your support system, always cheering you on no matter what endeavor you pursued.

"no more homework!" mapi exclaimed as she scooped you up into a hug. you laughed as she spun you around and around. her least favorite part of every practice was when alexia made you sit with vicky while you studied or finished up your school work. in mapi's mind, that was always during prime goofing off time. "come on, my mami wants pictures."

you let yourself get pushed around for several sets of pictures with your teammates. none of them mentioned the absence of your parents, most likely thanks to a briefing from alexia and patri. slowly, they all began to shuffle out and disperse, leaving you to catch a ride with aitana and keira for lunch. it was a team thing, so more of the girls would be there, but keira had quickly claimed the spot to drive you there.

"i'm proud of you kiddo," keira said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. there had been a lot of changes during the season, and while the change scared you, keira had been like your rock. she was the biggest help to you learning english and solidifying your spot in one of the best midfields in the world. "i've got a surprise for you when we get to the restaurant."

"a surprise?" you perked up instantly. it was somewhat childish, but you loved surprises. usually, they were good when it came to your teammates. you knew that keira would never do anything to hurt you, having taken you under her wing like you were her child. both of your english teammates had, but lucy had departed from spain a couple weeks ago.

you had been more than a bit bummed out by the news, but you understood. lucy had done what she felt she needed to at barcelona. you were also going to be on your way out temporarily. you had spoken with your coaches and management about going to college, and they had signed off on you taking a gap year to play the next season before you went off to america. you were committed to a school, but you had yet to tell your teammates which one.

lunch was nice, despite the fact that you couldn't focus because you kept trying to figure out what keira's surprise was. it wasn't until you noticed several of your teammates filming you that you got a bit nervous. luckily, you didn't have to wait too long after the cameras were brought out. alexia mentioned something about dessert, and when you turned around expecting to see the waiter, you saw lucy standing there in a tarheels shirt.

"i didn't tell anybody," you mumbled, unaware of how they could have known where you were going.

"sorry that i missed your graduation, but i'm so proud of you. i can't wait to watch you next year in carolina," lucy said as she wrapped one arm around you. the little plate with a slice of cake was set in front of you, but you didn't pay it any mind. you wrapped your arms around lucy's body in a tight hug. "score some goals for me, okay?"

"i'll try for more than what i score against you." everybody at the table laughed at your joke, except for lucy, who knew that you were serious. she could be the best in the world, and you'd still managed to get one or two past her. the whole team would work to make sure that you did. they wanted the world to know how good you were, which lucy knew would make for an interesting champion's league with her new team.

"we'll see about that," lucy mumbled as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. you glanced around you at your teammates and friends surrounding you. it was the happiest that you'd ever been, but something told you that there was only going to be more to come with them in your life.

[taasgirl]

say something pt 2.

summary: although playing for the same club, pedri and y/n cannot stand the thought of being around each other. enemies to lovers for all my slow burn girlies out there - i got u

a/n: not proofread and all in english + more installments coming soon!!

read part one here!

We were sat just above the bench, watching over one of the men's games. We had to do this regularly, to show our club spirit or something. The men, however, barely ever came to our games. I swear they only came for our Champions League Final and were out of the stadium when the ninety minutes were up.

“You’d think that such an expensive team would be good.” Ingrid was not impressed with the team playing. Her face had disgust written all over it and was really not afraid to show it.

“Don’t be mean. Not everyone can be as good as us.” Salma bolstered a smile, rubbing my leg aggressively. Rolling my eyes, I kept my focus on the game in front of me. It was a tight game. Real Betis were really putting up a fight, and I couldn't help but ogle at Hector Bellerin. He was genuinely so beautiful.

"Enjoying the game Y/N?" Salma asked, making the girls around us laugh. "Yeah funny Sal."

By the time the game had ended it was a 2-1 win for Betis, a real shock to almost everyone. The boys were fuming.

We walked down to the field, players from both of teams were still there. Making my way through with the girls, I heard my name called out. "Y/N! Wait up!" I turned around, running over with a cheesy smile was Hector. Hector Bellerin.

We followed each other on Instagram, and occasionally left friendly comments, but we had never spoken before. "How you doing?" I could hear his awkward English accent. "I'm doing pretty well. Congrats on the win you guys deserved it." He smiled.

"Ah, thank you. None of us were really expecting it." We spoke for another few minutes until he was called over by his coach.

"I'll see you around, I hope that next time you watch me play, you're in a Betis jersey." Smirking, he ran back to his team while I followed the girls into the tunnel.

When I caught up with Salma she couldn't look at me. "Already cheating on class boy with a footballer." She sarcastically sighed. "I always knew you were destined to be a wag." I lightly shoved her until I felt a push on my back.

"Get the fuck out of the way." Pedri spat at me. "Talking to the fucking opposition. If you want to fuck him so badly do it after the game." He pushed the changeroom door open, following closely behind him was Gavi and Ferran who looked at me sympathetically.

"Come on don't listen to him. Let's get home." Salma's hand found my shoulder pulling me close into her. "I'm happy to sleep over at Mapi's if you want to bring a certain someone over." God I hope she never changes.

"Girl there's no way I'm inviting him over. Let him celebrate the win." I smiled at her and she looked confused. "I wasn't talking about Hector." She stuck her tongue at as we walked to the parking lot.

I couldn't stop thinking about what Pedri had said to me that night. It almost shocked me how I didn't slap him. And although I wanted to hate him for it, a part of me hoped he didn't mean it. A part of me wanted it to just be a spur-of-the-moment comment which he would regret.

"Y/N are you okay?" Alex lightly tapped me. "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm just um tired." I focused back at my teacher. School was kicking my ass, I received my assessment schedule and these last few weeks were my last moments of peace before I locked in.

Once class was over I hurried myself as usual to the door. I had to get to training asap and I couldn't afford to be late. Again.

"Need a ride?" Alex caught up to me. There was no way I would decline, I was gonna be late. "Yes please, I need to get to work." We hoped in his car and he drove me to the grounds.

"I really enjoyed hanging out with you the other day. If it's alright with you, I'd like to come to one of your games?" I laughed but quickly refrained myself. "Oh um yeah. I can try and hook you up with some tickets if you wanna bring people."

We drove through the back streets of Barcelona until we got to where I needed to be. "Do you need me to pick you up? I'm happy to hang around for a while." He pulled up kerbside. "Yeah you'd be waiting for a very long time. It's all good, Salma drives me home." He'd met Salma a few times after we'd hookup as he tried to escape my room.

"But seriously, thank you so much. You don't understand how much easier you just made my life." I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek before I left the car.

"The fuck is that?" I recognised the voice immediately, B-lining for the buildings' entrance. "Oh ok yeah very mature, just ignore me." I waved to reception as I walked down to the changerooms.

"Was that your boyfriend? Or just another guy you hook up with." I snapped at him "He's a classmate." I continued walking down the hall. "So, tell me, did you sleep with Hector." That was it.

I turned to face him and slapped him across the face. Hard. A red mark coloured his cheeks. Realising what I had down, I regretted it immediately. "Oh my god Pedri I'm so sorry." I placed my hand on his cheek. "Holy fuck I don't know what came over me." Firstly, he looked at me disappointed, then he smirked. "So I'll take it that you didn't sleep with him." I walked right past him.

"Is something up with you Y/N?" Lucy said in my ear while marking me during training. I looked at her puzzled. "You're a lot more, I don't know. You're very tense." I scoffed. No wonder I was tense, I was literally studying for my degree while playing professional football.

"Well a few of us are going to go out tonight if you wanted to join? Girls only type of thing." Actually, I liked that idea. I needed time to just chill. Preferably away from home.

"Yeah actually I'd like that. You'll send me the address?" She agreed and soon enough we were back to tackling each other.

Once training had finished, Ona and I walked to the gym. She was still recovering from an ankle injury and wanted someone to give her motivation during the workout. As we entered the gym, sets of eyes laid straight onto us.

The men's team.

I looked at her, displeased to be trapped in a room filled with sweaty men, however, she didn't seem to care too much. "I think I'm gonna get deodorant poisoning if I'm in here any longer." She dragged me over to a machine.

I took a walk around the gym, trying to find the spot with the best reception. "Fancy seeing you around." Pedri called out to me.

I didn't look at him. No bother in giving him the time of day. "Okay then." He turned back to his group, they were making fun of his failed attempt at grabbing my attention.

"Y/N can you come over here for a sec?" Gavi called out to me. I was less than willing to walk over to a slightly intimidating group of boys, but I didn't want to give Pablo the same response that I gave Pedri.

Walking over, I could feel the eyes of the boys on me. "How you been baby?" I smiled at him. He's always been affectionate towards me, but this was artificial in a way. He was trying to make someone jealous. "You going out tonight?" I nodded. "Clubbing downtown." He looked impressed. "Going with Salma? I can try and ask around for that girl to be there."

"I'm so happy that you're finally going out with me. It's been what, four months?" Salma put on one of her sexiest outfits. I told her that the girl from before would be there, to that she immediately went looking for the hottest thing she owned.

"Yeah well you're obviously not planning on hanging out with me." Since she had gone out the other night, she couldn't stop talking about this girl she met.

We got picked up in a cab and made our way downtown. Upon entering the club we realised it wasn't exactly how we had pictured it. It wasn't so much a 'casual' club as it was a 'celebrity' club.

I recognised majority of the people as other footballers and internally rolled my eyes at the idea of spending time with some stuck up male footballer. Like Pedri for example.

When we found Lucy and a few of the other girls, we took a seat at the bar and ordered a round of shots. It had been a while since I had drunk alcohol, but I promised myself that I wouldn't drink too much. And I was usually good at keeping to my word, so I limited myself to three drinks.

"Y/N, Salma's been telling me about this guy you've been seeing." Ona said, taking a shot in full. "I hope he's hot at least." I looked at Salma unimpressed, she loved telling people about my life, to the point where even the physios knew who Alex was. "He's just a classmate, I mean like we've hooked up a few times but I'm not really into him."

The girls and I chatted for at least twenty minuets before suggesting we move to the dance floor. The DJ was playing mostly Bad Bunny with a few western songs, and soon enough the alcohol hit me, and I was in my groove. I was dancing with so many different people, and I could've sworn I had accidentally grinded up on Jude Bellingham before Ingrid came over to me, telling that someone was looking for me.

I followed in the direction of where she had pointed and found myself on the outside of the floor, but next to a tall man. "Hola Y/N." Hector bent down to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Hola."

"I really think we should hang out some day." I blushed at his words. "I'd like that. Maybe you could come to one of my games? Hang up your pride and wear the jersey of your old club." I nudged him playfully as he sarcastically shook his head. "Let's dance." He pulled me by the hand into the centre of the floor.

He held my hips as we swayed together, feeling the music and each other. "I though you'd be a better dancer Y/N." I looked up at him confused. "I'm only joking Carino. You look beautiful." I dug my head into his chest as we danced.

Now did I want to hook up with him? No, not really. But you can't hate a girl for giving into some attention. "Hector." He looked at me, almost freezing. "Does Pedri hate me?" He laughed. A guttural laugh.

"I'm not sure. Why?" I sighed. "He's just been a real dickhead lately. Always up in my personal businesses and constantly trying to piss me off." Hector smiled at me. "Yeah I don't think he hates you." He continued, "If it makes you feel any better, I think he actually likes you. I mean at least when I was at Barca he wouldn't shut up about this new prodigy." Ok now I was intrigued. "Go on."

"Well I mean he would always hang around at training to watch you play. To me at least I found it a little creepy, but I think it all stemmed from a crush." Yeah what the fuck.

"There's no way. Like he actually despises me." Hector shrugged as we came to a full stop of dancing. "Well maybe something's changed, but trust me, he likes you. Or used to I don't know."

I literally did not know what to think. So Pedri has been a fan all along??? Interesting…

After leaving Hector for the bathroom I felt a presence behind me as I walked down the corridor. Turning around nonchalantly, I came face to face with Pedri. Of fucking course he’d be here.

"Having fun?" He was holding a glass of what looked like water. Of course he didn't drink. "Yeah it's chill." I went to turn around when he grabbed my shoulder. "Sorry if I've been a dick, I've just, I don't know. Sorry." He was smiling at me. Smiling.

"Oh, um yeah okay you're all good." Before I could make my way back to the bathroom, his hands clasped my face, pulling me in for a kiss.

My brain wanted to push him away, but my body wanted more of him. I kissed him back passionately before he pulled away, hands still on my cheek. "Holy shit, I'm so sorry." He looked at me for no more than a second before walking back out.

He just kissed me. I kissed him. Pedri. Fucking Pedri.

"Y/N you're on, get up." Jonatan called for me, I was cozy on the bench watching my team struggle against Wolfsburg in a tight Champions League group stage match.

I hopped out of my seat and walked over to him. "I need you to turn this around. It's looking sloppy out there." He pointed to the field, everyone was tired, and Wolfsburg would break the deadlock soon enough if no stepped up. "I need a goal. I need you to be the captain out there, ok?" I nodded.

It was going to be tough. A thousand things were running through my head. Pedri was one of them, and I knew he was in the crowd. Alex too. God why do I do this to myself.

As I walked over to the fourth official, I could hear the crowd begin to get louder. I knew I was popular amongst the Barca fans, but hearing how excited they were to see me come on, gave me a new type of confidence.

I ran onto the pitch after I was subbed on, and genuinely put my heart into it. I had a few shots, although none were good enough to get past the keeper.

I built up with Keira, and finally had a chance to bury the game. I struck the ball with my laces from a few meters outside the box. I watched it curl into the top right of the goal and the crowd erupted.

I ran to the corner post where I did a knee slide, and was followed closely behind my teammates. Everyone was cheering.

The whistle blew after an agonizingly long fifteen minutes and the stadium erupted once more. We had slid past into a comfortable 1-0 win and I was absolutely buzzing. Jonatan pulled me in for a hug, and soon enough I was being thrown in the air by my teammates.

We did a lap of the field, taking photos and thanking the fans for supporting us. I had given my jersey to a young fan, in exchange for a bag of Haribos which were delicious.

When we had reached the bench and tunnel, I made direct eye contact with Pedri. It wasn't short either. He was still in the stands, in a full Barca tracksuit, looking down at me. And then he smiled.

I smiled back at him before I almost got practically tackled. Alex lifted me off the ground, and spun my around. "You did so well." He placed me back on the ground and leaned in for a kiss, I pulled back. "Oh, thanks Alex." I looked back into the crowd to where Pedri was standing, but I couldn't see him anymore.

"Please let me take you out tonight. I have us booked in for a beautiful Italian restaurant." I physically cringed. I don't know why I have such conflicting feeling towards Alex.

"Sorry Alex, but I've got recovery and stuff. I'd love to go another day." Lieeeeee. He looked down to the ground. "Yeah uh you're all good. Well done today." He smiled cowardly and grazed my arm before walking away.

"Rejected lover boy once again?" Salma came up to me, linking her arm through mine. I hadn't yet told her about Pedri. At first I didn't even see why I should, but I really needed to tell somebody.

"I feel like I'm leading him on, but I seriously do not wanna be his girlfriend or whatever he thinks we are." We walked into the tunnel and I was pulled into an interview.

"Y/N, that was a spectacular performance. However, many fans are confused as to why you weren't in the starting line up. Can you give us some insight into that?"

"Yeah well I wasn't training to me best standards in all honesty." The journalist nodded, signalling for me to continue. "Here at Barca everyone's replaceable. If you're not performing, someone else takes your place. It's the nature of this club. It's one of the reasons why I love it so much."

"How'd it feel to get a goal? It was a real tight game there, and you seemed to loosen it all up.

"I never take scoring for granted. It's a feeling I chase. As much as I love dribbling or assisting, or even tackling, nothing brings me as much joy as scoring does."

The interview continued for another couple of minutes before I made my way to a presumably empty changeroom.

Walking in, it was exactly what I guessed. I had a shower and changed into comfy clothes. Salma was driving us home, so she was probably waiting for me somewhere. I opened the door to leave the changeroom when I was met with a group. The group being Gavi, Pedri, and Salma.

Immediately, I made eye contact with Pedri who looked away. "Come on sissy, let's get home." We began walking in twos, Salma and I, Pedri and Gavi.

"You two were on fire today. There's surely a Ballon D'or coming your way Y/N." Gavi patted my back from behind, to which I turned around and smiled. "Thanks Pablo." Salma directed most of the conversation, Pedri barely spoke. Something was up with him.

"Pepi and I were so pissed when we couldn't see you on the starting lineup." Gavi said, making Pedri blush. "He started freaking out, thought you were injured and everything." I smiled to myself. It was cute I couldn't even lie.

"That's not true." His cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. He was embarrassed and it was adorable.

"Salma I need to tell you something." She jumped over the couch and sat next to me. "Spill." She then handed me a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries.

"Ok. So I may have kissed Pedri. No he kissed me. But I kissed him back." Her jaw dropped, and jumped straight up, dancing around me. "I called it! I fucking knew it!" I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah well you can calm it down because I think he hates me again." She sat down immediately. "Well you know how Alex came down?" She nodded. "Well I guess Pedri must've seen because he's been giving me the cold shoulder. He didn't even speak to me while we were all walking."

"So do you want me to set you two up?" I smacked her. "Don't you fucking dare."

omg guys sorry this took so long. lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part and send me reqs!!

PART THREE HEREEEE

[oleworm]

With white actors, their stereotypes are clear satire, while their authentic portrayals of accents are taken seriously—African accents are not afforded that luxury. Part of the authenticity and grit we’ve come to love in Good Will Hunting (1997) owes to the fact that both Matt Damon and Ben Affleck speak in accents native to South Boston—which successfully shows the importance of class distinctions, Will’s intellectual ability despite his “rough” surroundings, and rooting him in his neighborhood and background even as he progresses to new places and opportunities. Part of the joy of watching Mary Poppins (1964), is the grating sound of Dick Van Dyke’s bizarre “Cockney” accent. Often noted as one of the worst accents in film history, Van Dyke’s character sounded like he came from New Jersey, Australia, but Poppins is a children’s comfort film filled with magic, so audiences are already prepared to suspend their disbelief.  Language, voice, and tone are vital parts of storytelling, but somehow caricature-like portrayals of African accents still manage to win Oscars, while Dick Van Dyke’s “Cockney” failure is an actor’s cautionary tale. This speaks to a larger issue: the hierarchy of occidental languages over languages from the global south, the (lack of) knowledge of African dialects, and a general laziness toward the research required to thoughtfully and effectively learn regional African accents. Alongside my research for this article, I also spoke to Djeneba Bagayoko, a linguist who specializes in African languages and is currently working on a book exploring the similarities in Ebonics and continental languages. When we discussed Beasts of No Nation—no nation indeed, as the film is set in an “unspecified” West African country—Djeneba pointed out the prevalence of guttural sounds and line delivery in a lower vocal pitch. While having a lower-pitched voice is completely within the rights of directors and actors to be a stylistic choice for a character, its unfortunate prevalence goes beyond artistic prerogative and seems closer to laziness or ignorance. Viola Davis’s accent in The Woman King is also delivered in a lower register, with an emphasis on guttural sounds and a sprinkling of that American English rhotic R that would not be present in a West African accent during the 1820s. Winston Duke’s accent in Black Panther (2018) also features guttural sounds, a low pitch, and even Nigerian facets of speech (adding “o” as a standalone sound at the end of sentences), despite the fact that the fictional nation of Wakanda is supposedly located in southeast Africa. Bagayoko rightly asked, “Why, when it comes to Africa, are we all lumped together?” Reducing Western and Southern African accents down to hard, low-pitched noises positioned at the back of the throat perpetuates the idea that African languages are too “other” for any attention to detail. The frequency with which we see this technique reiterates the view of Africans as homogenized and underdeveloped—a colonial perspective.

[pumpkinsy0]

I love basing characters off random things so from the previous ask, I wanna talk about the Curtis Parents!

(I am aware that their names are not middle eastern, but I’m gonna go off and say that they were changed to better fit with Americans so not much problems would arise with their family.)

It would make sense that they’re white But I’m gonna go off ‘canon’ here and say that they were both born in a Middle Eastern country (it can be any country,) I’d say Darrel was already born into a not so wealthy family, lower than the middle class. So in order to take care of his family, he would always worked from a young age in many different jobs to bring back money to the family so they would be able to afford basic necessities for everyone. When he is much older, he meets his wife, in which he falls in love with her and asks her family for her hand in marriage. During this time, they would talk and communicate with one another, eventually them falling deeply in love with each other due to sharing common interests.

It’s cultural tradition that Arab families would have gold jewellery in their possession, in which Mr Curtis would work extremely hard in order to get these gifts for his wife. But during this time, when they were already married and having their first child, Darry, mr Curtis realised he wanted to have a better life for their family, he never wanted to raise them in a village where he had to work hard at a small age. So talking to his wife, they made a deal. They would sell their jewelleries (in which he promised his wife, he would buy it back,) to build up the money to transport only one person. (He decided it would be better to figure out a job and a house before bringing his family over.)

Darrel was born and somewhat raised in his native country, while Soda and Pony were born in America, making them Arab Americans.

I think because it was already expensive enough to transport them to America, they couldn’t exactly afford to go back to their native country. Not only because they didn’t have the money, but because they couldn’t. They missed their families and their food, but they had nothing else going on for them there. America was already limited with ingredients to make traditional food, so they make what they can get, but usually they would make what’s considered American food. Some they already have would be rice stuffed vegetables, kebab, and Kofta. They always wished their sons would be more connected to their culture.

Since having expensive jewellery is considered cultural, Ms Curtis left her belongings in her room, kept safely. And after they die in an auto wreck, I don’t think either brother would sell her jewellery, considering it would be one of the only things that reminded them of her, and thought it’d be disrespectful to give their mothers’ treasures away.

With languages, I think with Darry, he speaks pretty fluently considering their parents first language would be Arabic, they mostly talked to him in Arabic before they self taught themselves to speak proper English so that they would better fit in. With Soda, I think he would be the type to have spoken Arabic at first when he was younger, but when he started going to school, he forgot when he grew older.

With Pony, I think that Darry would sort of teach him to keep up with his language skills. (Making him revise the alphabet, learning grammar, etc.) whenever he is able to do so. He knew their parents never wanted them to forget their family heritage, so after they were gone and couldn’t help Ponyboy (nor Soda,) he opted to help them out when he was free from work,

(This based off my Family juuuust a smidge 😅)

This would be more thought out well if I wasn’t typing so late, so hopefully this is coherent-able!

OOOOO I LOVE IT!!! I LOVE IT SO MUCH IM ADDING IT TO MY CHARACTER MULTIVERSE WOOOOOO

never worry about race canon here anon look at who ur talking to,,,/lh

if i could choose like a country from the middle east i would hc the curtis family of coming from it would either b iraq, lebanon, jordan, MAYBE saudi arabia or afghanistan and idk y??? its those in particular??? idk squat about the places or culture i just feel those places in particular

BUT I LOVE THESE HCS THEYRE SO COOL!!!!

pls,,,pls tell me each of the brothers kept a jewelry from their mom,,,im begging u,,,,they dont even wear it they have it some place sacred

also unrelated, but mrs curtis w henna???aw yea baybee,,,i feel like pony would really b i to the designs, theyve always just fascinated him

ik when darrys frustrated he mumbles something in arabic i can feel it in my bones

in my head black black curtis family and ur arab curtis family r shaking hands and going off into the sunset together

AND AND look IF it was sandy that i did hc to b arab, ik they would love her bc they dont see many middle eastern ppl in tulsa, its like a connection between em

also anon ur arab??? thats so cool!!!

i love learning about different cultures i go insane over it,,,thank u anon,,,

[applbottmjeens]

Sgt. Annabelle "Gremlin" Pham

AKA: Annie (Graves), Belle, Kit, Grem, "GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!", "Little Monster" (Graves)

Blood type: O Positive

Age:

23 (Modern Warfare, 2019),

26 (Modern Warefare 2, 2022),

27 (Present, Modern Warfare 3, 2023)

Height: 4'11

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Asian/Pacific Islander (Vietnamese + Filipino)

Languages Spoken: English, Tagalog, Vietnamese, Chinese, Spanish

Religion: Catholic

Marital Status: Single (MW1-2), Complicated (MW3)

Faceclaim: Janella Salvador

Family:

Isabella Reyes - Maternal grandmother (deceased)

Cpt. Francisco "Capitan Kiko" Delgado - Paternal grandfather (deceased)

Ph��m Ngọc Anh - Paternal grandmother (alive)

Phạm Vinh Trường / Thomas Pham - Father (alive)

Phạm Vũ / David Pham - Uncle (alive)

Maria Soledad Pham née Delgado - Mother (alive)

Ryan Joseph "RJ" Pham - brother (alive)

-

CHILDREN (non canon)

Spc. Sylas Thomas "Tommy" Pham/ Phạm Teo Sỹ / "SAINT"/ (ACES AU)

Phillip Fernando Graves II / "Junior" / Ace (ACES AU)

Affiliates:

TASKFORCE 141:

BRAVO 0-6 / Cpt. John Price

WATCHER-1 / Kate Laswell

BRAVO 0-7 / Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

BRAVO 7-1 / Sgt. John "Soap" MacTavish

BRAVO 2-6 / Sgt. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

ECHO 0-1 /Lt. Isobel "Medusa" Williams (@gipsyavnger)

ECHO 1-1 / Sgt. Maj. Hannah "Sparrow" Clayton (@revnah1406)

2ND COMMANDO REGIMENT : (@kaitaiga)

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez (@alypink)

TANGO 0-1 / Cpt. Lachlan Jones

LOS VAQUEROS:

TANGO 2-1 / Sgt. Damien Whitlock (what're YOU doing here?!)

Col. Alejandro Vargas, Sgt. Maj. Rodolfo Parra, Jesus "Chuy" Ordaz

SHADOW COMPANY (QUEEN OF HEARTS AU + MW3):

Comd. Phillip Graves, Ms Sgt. Shane Sparks (formerly), Rozlin "Rose" Helms (formerly). Velikan, SO. Marcus "Lerch" Ortega

Annabelle Pham was born in San Jose, California and raised in an Asian immigrant household in South San Francisco. Growing up working class, her parents encouraged her to pursue her education while also helping raise her sickly younger brother, RJ. Playing softball and being a bit of a rebel, despite her shortcomings, Annabelle had the opportunity to attend an Ivy league college on a partial scholarship, which she rejected after her father's restaurant was vandalized and robbed.

Rather than use the money for school, she pushed her family to use it to repair their restaurant. Annabelle would choose to attend a 2 year college in a CTE program since it was more affordable, working part time in her family's restaurant while she searched for new employment.

While job searching, she became curious about the recruiters office in her neighborhood, and next thing she knew, she was in the army (much to her mother and father's disappointment.)

At some point, then Private Annabelle "Kit" Pham would meet CIA Station Chief Kate Laswell while fighting alongside SAC/SOG officer Alex Keller. Impressed by the young woman's resolve and improvisation, Laswell would choose Anna as one of the three women she'd first suggest to join Taskforce 141 to John Price.

While hiding from enemy forces who'd kidnapped her in a foreign city, Annabelle's quick thinking kept her alive while her teammates were delayed on their rescue.

Anna got her callsign "Gremlin" from her unpredictable and unhinged behavior thanks to her fellow Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. Hiding in walls, crawling in vents and ambushing enemies easily thanks to her small stature and the old fashioned element of surprise.

Smart, resourceful and good with her hands, she's a loyal friend and a cautious person whose instincts are good if they aren't clouded by her own feelings. Anna is a hopeless romantic who wears her heart on her sleeve, which can be a good and a bad thing...Especially when a certain Commander seeks to exploit it.

[learningsanctum]

May 8th, 2024

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to offend anyone, this is only my complex and conflicting journey to connect myself to my culture.

Why am I ashamed?

What am I ashamed of?

Growing up my parents ultimate goal was to move to the USA, they told me "the green card makes your life easier". All they wanted was to make more money so they could afford a better education for me.

I went to private schools for as long as they could pay it for me and they still couldn't put Brazilian private schools on the same level of USA public schools.

They had me having English lessons for years. "English is the most spoken language in the world" my father said "you have to know English to be successful". And I was an impressionable child with corporate dreams to pursue, so I committed to the bit.

Soon enough I started writing in English.

Then, one of our acquaintances made it to the USA. He made the dream real, solid, reachable. We had hopes for a better life.

In one of our Skype calls he told me the weirdest - and most wonderful - part was the "dreaming in English", as he put it, when after a long day speaking the language you couldn't help but dream on it too.

In my mind, then, it clicked: the more English I consume the more native I become.

A though.

Everything always starts with a thought.

One damn thought.

It was what it took to put me on the road to self-hatred and to make me detach myself from my culture. All it took for me to segregate all the culture available to me- to categorize and "villainize" my culture as a whole. Music, poetry, movies, soap operas, everything was inferior if compared to the big nation.

My cellphone settings were changed to English and I proudly carried around the fact I spoke the language as a badge. I was over the moon when I first read USA texts and could understand them.

For long - too long in my opinion - I was the "English girl" I knew about stuff kids from my country around my age didn't because I would spend a lot of time on forums and alike consuming media like I was about to move to there any moment. I molded my personality to fit their standards so I wouldn't be a fish out of water once I got there.

I found friends who spoke English and taught the ones who didn't so we would speak it in school. A way to talk bad about someone in front of them. A way to mock teachers at the same time they would compliment us for being - god help me, this one will always haunt me - "way ahead of the other children our age". If I could go back and make they take it back...

American high school was the dream to be achieved.

So long being superior, knowing more, quoting Edgar Alan Poe.

"The higher you step, the bigger is the fall".

I didn't go to the USA.

Never even traveled by plane 'till this day.

And in no time, the lack of knowledge of my culture started to catch up with me.

High school took a tool on me. Of all the problems I had probably the frustration of being in Brazil was the biggest of them. Classes weren't interesting because they weren't in English. I didn't have to change classrooms every period and I wouldn't get my driver's license by sixteen. I didn't have a locker. There are no lockers on Brazilian high school.

I was devastated and fought furiously with my - this guy is a saint, I swear, watch it - Portuguese teacher. Professor, actually, he had a doctorate if I remember correctly. Me, a fifteen years or something old fighting a doctor on how Joaquim Machado de Assis is not "good literature". In my head, back then, it wasn't even literature worthy.

God, if I knew back then.

I wasn't "the prodigy" anymore. I was just rebellious. At everything. Closed in the trap I designed to myself and unable to connect with other teenager.

It wasn't until lockdown that I started to feel a certain need to be a proud Brazilian citizen. Not for politics, economy or raising poverty rates. Those are always present and I was never aware to them. There wasn't time to pay attention to my country's situation if my dream was a white picket fence house instead of a big terrain with a gate or bars and electronic security system.

With TikTok came the trends, and even in my self spite I couldn't help but keep my social medias American.

Call it irony if you will but it was an USA trend with a Russian song that brought me back to my roots. Or at least helped me question my actions towards my country.

"I'm just a simple Russian girl, I've got vodka in my veins, so I dance with brown bears and my soul is torn apart."

I stopped and then thought "after everything I have done and I am still not American enough. I will never be a USA citizen" and then "but I am American" and I was in shock. Because I always have been American. Not USA but Brazilian. Sharing the same America with them. Living on the same America they do.

Such a line of thought, however controversial, made me think that if I were to make an edit to this trend what could I use to refer to Brazil?

Making me follow all the way to the question I dreaded the most: "what do I love about Brazil? what is it that even makes me Brazilian after so long hiding from my nationality?"

To be completely honest I was stupefied by how quick the culture flowed in my blood and I realized:

I don't need Little Red Riding Hood. I have the Saci.

We don't have the big white house but we have a fucking palace in our capital.

I want to play games with Narizinho, Pedrinho and Emília at the Yellow Woodpecker farm.

I want to draw in any sheet a yellow sun burning bright.

I can read Capitães de Areia instead of Lord of Flies.

And I should study more about the anti-asylum movement and read about Barbacena's tragedy documented by Daniela Arbex in her GENIUS book Brazilian Holocaust instead of hearing more and more about the USA "gun problem" or "cameras on police officers' clothes".

I don't mean it as disrespectful or unimportant but I had spent so many time trying to reach the outside, the exterior, that I never once looked around to see the wonderful culture surrounding me.

The soccer, the music, the dance- God, I want to try capoeira before I die, I want to travel to see the Cataratas do Iguaçu and I want to truly understand my ancestors and the explosion of ethnics and cultures my country has to share.

And as the thoughts came and went I realized that I love being Brazilian.

"Festa de Ipanema, meu amor" - Movie: Rio, 2011.

Carnival, axé, samba, pagode, I want to dance.

Mônica, Cebolinha, Cascão, Magali, Chico Bento, I want to live at Limoeiro street.

O Auto da Compadecida (A Dog's Will), - and even Minha mãe é uma peça - it's a comedy I can laugh to with no effort, I can understand the accent and from which region of my country it comes from and I can relate to the joke.

Carolina Maria de Jesus is my Anne Frank.

Coconut, avocado, passion fruit, lime, mango, melon, cashew are not "exotic" foods, those are natural fruits I find with "seu" João at the small vending at the end of the block.

My fruits, my music, my tragedies, my country.

I still accepting this reality. But I don't want to be ashamed to put, even if under a username, in my bio, description or whatever that I am Brazilian.

It's part of who I am.

It's reality is not perfect but it's mine.

I'm not ever giving it up again without a fight.

[eucabroadstudy]

Why France is the Perfect Destination for Higher Education

France has long been a top choice for international students seeking quality education and memorable cultural experiences. Here are some compelling reasons why studying in France is a great decision.

World-Class Education

France is home to some of the world's most prestigious universities and business schools. Institutions like Sorbonne University and HEC Paris offer a wide range of programs in various fields, ensuring you receive top-notch education. The country is known for its rigorous academic standards and innovative teaching methods, preparing students for successful careers globally.

Affordable Tuition Fees

Compared to other popular study destinations, France offers relatively affordable tuition fees. Public universities charge low fees, especially for EU students. Even non-EU students find the costs reasonable, particularly given the high quality of education. Additionally, various scholarships and financial aid options are available to help ease the financial burden.

Rich Cultural Experience

Living in France means immersing yourself in a rich cultural heritage. From world-famous landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre to charming cafes and vibrant street markets, every day in France is an opportunity to explore and learn. The country’s diverse regions offer unique traditions, cuisines, and festivals, ensuring a culturally enriching experience.

Language Learning Opportunities

Studying in France is a great way to learn or improve your French, one of the most widely spoken languages in the world. Many programs are offered in English, but being in a French-speaking environment helps you pick up the language quickly, adding a valuable skill to your resume.

High Quality of Life

France offers an excellent quality of life with its high standard of living, efficient public transportation, and world-class healthcare system. The French lifestyle emphasizes work-life balance, allowing you to enjoy your studies without overwhelming stress.

Networking and Career Opportunities

France is a hub for international business, technology, and innovation. Studying here provides numerous networking opportunities through internships, industry partnerships, and events. Graduates from French institutions are highly regarded by employers worldwide, enhancing your career prospects.

In conclusion, studying in France combines high-quality education, cultural richness, and a vibrant lifestyle, making it an ideal destination for higher education.

[livingmybestfictionallife]

The Geek and the Freak

To say Eddie Munson was unmotivated was a bit of an understatement. All of his teachers for the past five years of high school continually reported back to Wayne that, "Eddie is an incredibly gifted student, however he doesn't seem to apply himself in class." He would absorb those words and regurgitate them at Eddie the second he had the opportunity to, and after a while, Wayne began to see an improvement in Eddie's educational performance. Of course he didn't go from being a straight D student to a getting straight A's, but he was able to bump up his scores in History, English, and art to B's with the occasional A. However, not matter how much complaining from his teachers or pushing from his uncle, Eddie couldn't get his math scores to jump above a D.

Maybe it was something about the numbers, or maybe it was the lack of a creative outlet in the projects. He wasn't exactly sure, but the more he tried, the more he struggled, and the more he struggled, the more he was nagged to do better, which only perpetuated the cyclical downfall of disappointment he existed in.

"You're really a bright kid, Eddie," his math teacher reassured him. "Trust me, we all want you to succeed. You deserve to graduate this year, especially after all the hard work you've put into raising your grades, we don't want this to be the thing that keeps you from getting your diploma."

"So you're going to sweep my math grades under the rug?" he suggested with a mildly sly smirk playing on his lips. His teacher laughed at Eddie's attempt to get the school to ignore his failing grade, but spoke to clear any confusion.

"How would you feel about getting a tutor?"

"I don't think my uncle can afford a tutor, Mr. Klein," Eddie said in a somewhat defeated tone. He'd heard the richer kids at school talk about how they had either a subject specific, or college-prep tutor come to their homes a few days a week to bring up their grades or to prepare for higher education. Never did he think someone would even confuse him for the type of person who would be able to obtain such a luxury. He knew he wasn't going to college unless he had a scholarship--which by his grades and lack of involvement in athletics seemed to be an impossibility. All he wanted was his damned diploma and to flip the bird to his principal one final time.

"I have a student in one of my advanced classes who has some free-time after school. If you're interested, I can arrange for you two to meet so you can work on the materials in one-on-one setting, perform some extra-credit work, and study for the last test of the year."

That's how Eddie Munson ended up at the library after school on a Friday sitting across the table from Helen McKillop. He'd known of Helen since kindergarten, but never spoke to her in their years of attending the same school. Part of it was that they never shared any classes--he was in all on-level courses while she was enrolled in every advanced course the school offered. The other reason he'd never spoken to her before was because it seemed as if she would run the other way if he so much as looked at her.

He'd always remembered her as this timid girl who avoided getting to know anyone outside of her immediate friend group. Barbra Holland and Nancy Wheeler were two of the only people in school Eddie ever remembered Helen interacting with, and after Barb's disappearance and death, she stopped talking to Nancy altogether. Her last two years of high school were spent in the background of everyone else's story. It was as if she were a non-player character that existed simply to further the plot of everyone else's high school life.

Eddie sat across from her, his metal rings clanking loudly on the table as he anxiously tapped to the drumming of his heart. His knee bounced impatiently as he waited for her to say something in regards to the notes he'd taken and the small assignment he completed in class that his teacher wanted her to look over before Eddie officially turned it in. However, her fingers continued to turn the paper over, and her eyes continued to scan his chicken-scratched writing from behind her glasses lenses.

Helen McKillop...the geek he thought to himself in a slight tone of either disgust or dread. Of course he knew that the social hierarchy of high school was bullshit, but it still existed, and people within varying stages of that hierarchy developed opinions of people in others. He knew his place among the hierarchy as a "freak" and he knew what others thought of him. He had mostly come to accept the bullshit stigma of being labeled a freak, and he embraced making the jocks feel uncomfortable. It was nice, in a weird way, having anyone be intimidated by the kid who, in elementary school, was teased for how often he cried. In hindsight, he shouldn't have believed the stereotypes and rumors that were spread about Helen, and he shouldn't have approached their first tutoring session with those in mind, but he did.

Helen had always been quiet, and she could tell her silence was beginning to drive Eddie Munson up a wall. She'd only known of Eddie in passing, but there was something about him that always made her feel uneasy in a good way. She couldn't describe it, but whenever she noticed him being his authentic self among his friends, she could pinpoint this desire and urge within herself to break out of her shell and participate in whatever shenanigans and tomfoolery he was getting into. To be honest, that urge scared her, and given the choice between fight and flight, her body would choose flight ten out of ten times. Helen McKillop didn't step out of her comfort zone. She kept her head down, didn't make a fuss, and avoided the whims of adolescence.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Helen pushed the paper back to Eddie after erasing every last pencil mark on the page.

"What was that for?" he asked abruptly as she handed him a blank page.

"I think it's better to start over with a clean slate," she admitted as a piece of her conscious mind recognized the sub-conscious decision to get over her, for lack of a better combination of words, enamored fear of the boy before her.

"Did you have to erase my name?" he grumbled under his breath as he printed E-d-d-i-e M-u-n-s-o-n back in the top right corner of the page.

With a great sense of apprehension, Helen opened Eddie's textbook to the section Mr. Klein told her Eddie's class was in. While Helen was in Pre-Calculus, Eddie was still in Algebra, so his homework was a breath of fresh air to her; however, within seconds of watching the boy before her shove his pencil into his hair and begin twirling it around a coiled lock, she quickly realized the difficulty Eddie was experiencing.

"Is it that you don't know how to do it, or is it that it seems like a lot to do and it's overwhelming to look at?" Helen asked as she studied the boy across from her.

Eddie's bottom lip was pinched between his teeth, his narrowed eyes peered vengefully down at the paper before him, and his nose was ever so lightly scrunched that it would have been impossible to make out had she not been searching for it. She recognized the look on his face--hell, she'd worn that look a number of times herself--and immediately knew the answer to her question.

"I can do it!" Eddie retorted a little too loudly and ended up being shushed by some nearby middle schoolers.

"I didn't say you couldn't," Helen quickly responded in a shy and reserved tone. She took a deep breath and found herself letting it out abruptly in frustration at Eddie's defiance. "You're a musician, right?" she pressed in hopes he'd stop being so closed off and defensive around her. He nodded in response as he continued to absentmindedly stare at the numbers and letters on the page before him. "What do you play?" her voice was what he'd expected based on the type of girl he thought Helen to be--soft and light, like a feather drifting in the wind.

"Guitar mostly."

"I take it the guitar didn't just come to you super easily, right?"

"No, things don't come easily to me," Eddie nearly hissed in frustration. Here was this girl--this nerdy, goody-two-shoes, teacher's pet girl--who probably has never had to struggle for a descent grade in her whole life, trying to talk to him about what comes easy?

"All I'm saying is, like with music and learning an instrument, things take practice. It's okay to not know where to start."

"The thing is, I know what to do, I just don't know how to make it through these damn questions without wanting to fall asleep. Learning guitar was easy because it was something that was interesting to me. I'm just taking this class because I have to."

Understanding the root of the problem, Helen silently began digging around in her bag until she found a d20. The di certainly caught Eddie's attention since Helen McKillop was the last person he'd expect to play Dungeons and Dragons.

"The good thing is, we don't have to start at the beginning and work our way to the end," she said as she rolled the di and noticed the number 12 appear right side up. "Sometimes I don't know where to start with things either, so I leave it up to chance. Chance says we start at question number twelve," she said and turned his homework over. "Focusing is hard for me, so I have to make little games of things to hold my attention."

"And so you use DND dice to decide how to do your homework?" Eddie asked with a slight laugh as he began to work through the problem.

"My parents took me to be evaluated for ADD in middle school. I've had a few years to find things that work for me. DND dice keeps school a bit more interesting, however I've found them to be more effective to add a few incentives though."

"You had problems in school?" The shock in his voice was evident as Helen anxiously bit at her lower lip.

"I never had to try on assignments," she admitted, only to have the looming judgement of Eddie Munson's words 'things don't come easily for me' echo in her ears. "When I did struggle with something I took it out on myself and thought I was just too stupid or lazy to grasp it. Knowing how to motivate myself to do the things I don't want to do helped me with my boring subjects, but also made me even stronger in the ones I liked."

"So you also just didn't try to do things you thought were too complicated to just start doing?" Eddie's voice was now gentle as he realized he couldn't have been more wrong about Helen.

"Correct," she said as her gaze lifted from where she'd been staring at where his ring clad fingers rested upon the paper in order to meet his eyes. "I promise that if you find ways to keep your brain engaged in what you're doing, you'll find it easier to get things you don't want to do done."

"You promise?" Eddie repeated her words hesitantly as he playfully yet skeptically raised an eyebrow at the girl before him.

"I do," she assured him with what had to be the sweetest, most wholesome smiles he'd seen grace another person's face.

"Well then, I guess I'll keep at it," he said with a joyful grin landing on his lips until it faltered into a coy smirk. "After all, I want to know more about those incentives you were talking about." With a curt wink, he could see her cheeks begin to flush and could feel the heat rising into his own ears. And so the freak began to fall for the geek.

[aparedes]

❝ I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. ❞

Age: 40

Gender identification: Cis female, she/her

Residential area: Masonboro

Occupation: Book cover artist & voice actor

Two positive traits: Independent & compassionate

Two negative traits: Hedonistic & aloof

Length of time in Wilmington: 25 years

Faceclaim: Nathalie Kelley

sunset gazing from the porch, wine drunk late night texts and calls to ghosts, paint stained fingers, always remembers your name, a wild spark that devours from within, an ipad pro and sketchbook weighing down her bag, a faint accent from a distant life, and eyes that can't hide the pain of unfulfillment

Trigger warnings: death

Born and raised in Lima, Peru, Angelia’s earliest memories are of running around the resort hotel both of her parents worked at. Her mother was a desk clerk and her father was a groundskeeper. They were a small but happy family that loved smiling and the company of each other. It was Angelia’s childhood where she remembers feeling the most love in her life. Even before she could walk her body was in motion trying to dance and wiggle around. So once she’d taken those first steps and elated her parents, Angelia was enrolled in dance class with what little money they could set aside for it. Sometimes each of her parents worked overtime and extra shifts just so that they could afford things for her, and their sacrifices and hard work has never been forgotten. Passionate, competitive, and a bit of a perfectionist, Angelia excelled in dance and began performing with a dance team all over the city. No matter how tough the schedules her parents had they always made it to her recitals and performances. Even more, they always expressed just how proud they were of her..

When Angelia was 15 there was an incident at the hotel resort and her father ended up as collateral damage in trying to intervene and deescalate a terrible situation. The sudden loss was devastating to that small, close-knit family. Angelia and her mother ended up moving not long following her father’s funeral to Wilmington, North Carolina where her mother had obtained a job transfer. There was a lot to work through when it came to immigration, but seeing as Angelia’s aunt and her mother’s sister had made the move some near 10 years earlier she helped the grieving pair through the process. The loss had tormented Angelia’s mother so much that home didn’t feel like home anymore. Without her father her mother couldn’t stay in Lima and be reminded of him everywhere. Plus, she needed to be close to her sister.

For the teenager the move was difficult. Not just because of losing her father but also due to transitioning to an American school system where her strong Peruvian accent proved to be a challenge. Angelia had always been fluent in English, she’d been raised speaking both languages, but Spanish had always been the preferred and most spoken in her household. Too often, out of habit, she would slip into Spanish when speaking. Angelia struggled in school but that led her to discover an unknown talent— she could draw and draw quite well. She began filling up notebooks of sketches and doodles, at first not really thinking anything of it, until she came across an ad placed by a local publishing company. They were looking for a book cover artist. Out of curiosity Angelia applied and interviewed, showing her notebooks full of her abilities. They tested her, gave her a book synopsis and a note from an author and told her to return it in a week with mock covers. Angelia blew the executives away with her creations and she was hired immediately. They loved her interpretations but the job didn’t pay the best and the then 20 year old had to take up work at a local bar as a waitress and then eventually a bartender.

It was tough juggling everything at times, especially since she also liked to travel and see a bit of the world, but Angelia actually really loved her life. She loved being an artist and loved the social aspect of working in a bar. Eventually her talents would be snagged by a bigger publishing house and a much better paycheck would come her way because of it. At that time Angelia came upon yet another job opportunity on a whim. Audiobooks were on the rise and the publishing firm had just begun devotinga department to that medium. After overhearing talk of needing narrators and voice actors she offered herself up despite having zero experience. How hard could it be narrating a book?

It turned out to be very tough and required a lot of patience and skill. But, like everything else, Angelia was determined to become good at it. Now, she’s sought out by authors by name. For two reasons.

[cd-covington]

Hey friendo, also linguistics and fictional universes nerd!

I heard that you're game to share your wisdom with us mere mortals (aka authors) so here goes.

I'm writing a cyberpunk novel. Everyone speaks english cause writing a new language is FAR beyond my skill set, but I want to play with grammar as a way to show the reader class differences. (This is what happens when you let a socialist write a novel.)

In this futuristic dystopia, only the very rich can afford unlimited data (aka Canada in 2023). My thought is the working class have adopted speech patterns to minimize unnecessary words--dropped their article (goodbye 'the'), drop context markers unless necessary (goodbye 'that'), that kinda thing. The rich, being rich, speak in sentences the reader will recognize as grammatically 'correct.'

Two questions for Your Lingistic Eminance:

What do the middle class do? How do they sound?

2. Are there any great grammatical patterns I could include that I haven't thought of yet?

Thanks so much! I am VERY EXCITED to hear.

This is a great question! The short answer to part 1 is that they’ll mimic the upper class/upper middle class aspirationally, as least in situations where the UC/UMC will notice them, in what we call hypercorrection. A couple ideas for part 2 are dropping the subject of the verb if it’s obvious (which we already do in English - “love you” as a sign-off in a text message, or diary-style “went to the store. Didn’t find avocados.”) or deciding that even the limited verbal inflection that remains in English is unnecessary, so no more 3rd-person-singular s. (This is already present in several varieties of English, including African American English.)

The long answer for part 1 is really cool and relies on one of the foundational studies of sociolinguistics, published by Bill Labov in 1966. A 2012 paper by Mather replicates Labov’s study and points out some methodological problems caused by increased movement within the US and from outside the US (more on that in a minute), but it finds essentially the same stratification of this particular phoneme by social class.

For his original study, Labov wanted to see if socioeconomic class affected the way people spoke. He lived in New York City, and one of the distinctive features of a New Yorker accent is the absence of /r/ sounds (New Yawk). (As I wrote a little bit ago, rhotics aren’t real, but their presence or absence (or the ghosts of their presence) is a key feature of accents.) But Mainstream American English does have /r/ sounds, and this variety has what we call prestige.

Prestige varieties are typically spoken by the group with the most social (political, economic, etc) power – and, crucially, there is nothing inherent to the variety that makes it “better” than another variety. It’s just the one that the powerful use, and thus the one “correctness” is measured against.

So. New York English typically does not contain /r/ sounds, but the prestigious (standard) variety of US English does, and various social factors lead to the upper & upper middle classes preferring the more standard variety, while the lower and lower middle classes will prefer the non-standard variety. (Some of this has to do with group identity and using the non-standard variety to showcase group membership, but that’s an entirely different question.)

When Labov designed his study, he wanted to look at /r/ immediately after a vowel, because that’s where you notice its presence or absence most readily, so he used the phrase “fourth floor.” In fourth, you have a vowel followed by an /r/ which is followed by an obstruent /th/, which is phonotactically a different beast from floor, where the post-vocalic /r/ is the end of the word. And in the most typical New York English of 1962 (when he gathered his data), both of these /r/s were absent. But he wanted to study the effects of social stratification on the presence of /r/, so he devised a study based on proxy variables (aka markers).

The marker he used for socioeconomic class was department stores, assuming that employees would come from a similar class to the store they worked in (i.e. someone from the upper middle class isn’t going to work at TJ Maxx). He picked a low-cost one (S. Klein, now defunct) to represent the lower class, Macy’s to represent the middle class, and Saks Fifth Avenue to represent the upper middle class. (All stores are on the Lower East Side.)

To gather his data, he approached an employee of the store and asked where he could find a department that he knew was on the fourth floor. When they answered, he pretended he didn’t understand, and the employee repeated themself. This gave him proxy data for casual (first ask) and careful (repeated) speech.

What did he find? As expected, the employees of the lower-class store used /r/ far less often than in the other stores – in fact, barely 10% of the time. The charts in Labov 1972* are confusing, so I’ll use ones from Mather 2012, because I think they’re clearer. 

The working-class proxy store had, and still has, very few employees who pronounce the /r/ in fouRth flooR 100% of the time, while the middle- and upper-middle-class proxy stores have higher and increasing rates of 100%  /r/ pronunciation. (This indicates that /r/ pronunciation is probably a prestige variation, and increasing use indicates that the middle class and higher is adopting this variation.)

This graph confused me for about 5 minutes, because all [r-1] isn’t the same as “all [r-1],” so what it shows is the percentage of /r/-pronunciation in total. If someone said, for example, “fou’th flooR,” they would get an [r-1] for the category R2 and an [r-0] for R1. (The study may be foundational, but his coding of variables leaves something to be desired.) So, you can see that Klein, representing the working class, has between 5% and 18% of people pronouncing an /r/ at least once, while Macy’s and Saks are all 20% or higher. (The drop in /r/-pronunciation in R3 at Macy’s is interesting, but it’s not explained in the papers I read.)

*I have a scan of one chapter of something labelled “Labov 1972,” but not the 1966 book or the 2006 2nd edition.

I can’t find the paper I’m looking for that shows the crossover effect, where upper middle class speakers use /r/ less than middle class speakers (it may have been on paper, not a pdf, so it’s lost to the recycling bin of time), but fortunately it’s summarized in Allan Bell’s textbook (The Guidebook to Sociolinguistics, 2014). This didn’t come from the “fourth floor” study, but one where he had people read word lists or phrases, as well as elicit them in regular speech. Most interesting is the line “class 6-8” (lower middle class), where it spikes between C (reading) and D (word lists) and crosses over the line “class 9” (upper middle class). I don’t think I can improve on Bell’s wording, so I’ll quote him. The lower middle class hypercorrects: “in pursuit of prestige, the class that is just below the most prestigious actually overshoots their model. This became known as the lower-middle-class crossover effect” (168). 

So, 1000 words later, we have evidence for the existence of social stratification of a particular variable, and the theoretical methodology has been applied again and again in different situations and with different variables in the last nearly 60 years, and it seems pretty robust (with caveats and methodological improvements and so on, of course). You can, in fact, stratify linguistic variables by categories that include race, gender, and class. The aspirational class (the one just below the most prestigious class) wants to sound like the prestige class, so they imitate what they think the prestige class sounds like, and in so doing frequently overshoot and use the variable in question more than the prestige class, while the lower classes are far less likely to use the prestige variety. (And I haven’t even mentioned covert prestige yet, which is when a non-prestige variant is preferred in certain groups, because it symbolizes membership in the non-prestige group.)

If you think this is interesting, consider backing my Kickstarter, where I’ll be writing a book about how to use linguistics in your worldbuilding process. Or if tumblr ever sorts out tipping for my account, leave me a tip.

[elbienamado]

Is that BIBIANO DE LA CRUZ? A JUNIOR originally from MANHATTAN, NY, they decided to come to Ogden College to study PRE-MED. They’re THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

updated 8/17/2023

tw: implied death of sibling(s), child/infant death, implied parental neglect, references to religion (Catholicism)

The Basics:

Full Name: Bibiano Yasiel De La Cruz-Aguilera

Nick Names: Bibi, B, {Big Man,B-Man, Mr. President, Biber, Beebs} (by Hyatt but they're (mostly)free game), BB (Dartboard only, negative connotations so don't call him this haha)

Pronouns: He/him

Ethnicity: Afro-Cubano

Sexuality: Straight

Gender: Cismale

Age: 22

Birthday: December 28, 2000

Zodiac: Capricorn Sun, Aquarius Moon, Libra Rising

MBTI: INFJ-T

Enneagram: 2w1

Religion: Roman Catholic

Family: Abraham De La Cruz - Father, 55 (Andre Royo), Consuelo De La Cruz-Aguilera - Mother, 54 (Gina Torres), Maricruz Acosta - Au pair, 45 (Rosario Dawson), Sibling(s) † TBD (his parents had 5 failed pregnancies before Bibi was born)

Language: English, Spanish, can understand spoken and written Portuguese (doesn't actually know the language but because of the similarities to Spanish he is able to gage what is being said), very basic conversational spoken Japanese

Appearance:

Face Claim: Rome Flynn

Height: 5'11" 

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Black

Hair Style: Close skin fade with roughly 2 inches of longer curls at the top front of his head

Tattoos: None (if you see one of Rome Flynn's tattoos in a pic I used, no you didn't 🤫)

Style: Cocktail Attire to Business Formal during school hours, Athleisure to Soft Boy Aesthetic on off hours

Piercings: Single piercings on both ears

How he embodies THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS:

The son of a prosecutor turned senate hopeful and a brain surgeon, Bibiano has always been destined for success. And he’s done a good job so far, if you ask him. As Ogden’s football team Captain, the President of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, and a member of the Junior Class Board, he’s got a lot on his plate besides his studies. But if there’s one thing his parents instilled in him since childhood, it’s that good things come to those who work hard. So work hard he does. It’s fine. After all, what more could he ask when his entire life had been preordained?

Extracurriculars: President of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, Football team Captain (Quarterback), Junior Class Board, Pre-Med Society, Ultimate Frisbee, Squash

Relationship to Greer:

If you had asked Bibiano last year how his relationship with Greer was going, he would have smiled brightly and answered, ‘Never better!’ while brushing a stray curl away from his face, letting his promise ring catch the light in the down stroke. Saddest thing was that he would have meant it. Wholeheartedly. Things were going great between him and Greer. Fantastic even. Despite the fact that they were talking and seeing each other less and less every year. It’s not like he hadn’t noticed, but with the MCAT looming over the horizon, he couldn’t afford to slack off. He thought she would understand, but once he had ‘stopped being fun’, she had stopped telling him whenever she’d go out and blocked his number. He’d only learn about what she was up to because she hadn’t bothered to block him on Snapchat. But all couples have their ups and downs, and he wouldn’t be the first boyfriend to get blocked during a fight. It was fine though, because Bibiano knew that they would make up eventually and everything would go back to how it’d always been.  Greer and him were an inevitability. They were destined to get married and start a family. 2.5 kids, the picket fence, all of it. They were the New American Dream. Idyllic, yet achievable if you just put in the work. It was as true as the celestial bodies in the sky that circled the Earth. As true as the love of the Lord. A year later and his promise ring was tucked neatly into the black velvet box that had originally held Greer’s.

Character Inspirations:

Scott McCall (MTV's Teen Wolf), Wolfgang Grimmer (Naoki Urasawa's Monster), Shima Sousuke (Skip and Loafer), Finn Hudson (Glee), Aaron Samuels (Mean Girls), James Wilson, M.D (House MD), Ann Perkins (Parks and Recreation), Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney), Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi), Papyrus (Undertale), Noelle (Deltarune), Kota Ibushi (DDT/NJPW/AEW - Wrestling, Seiya Sanada [j5g era] (NJPW - Wrestling) (i'm being so real rn wrestling is just professional sports larping where the audience is also part of the collaborative story telling and the wrestlers are constantly rping in real life i cannot stress enough that i am being so so real rn))

Character Tropes:

Lovable Jock, Captain Oblivious, The Unwitting Comedian, The McCoy, Mr. Nice Guy, Extreme Doormat, The Cutie, Horrible Judge Of Character, Perpetual Smiler, Only Sane Man, Beware the Nice Ones, Reluctant Fanservice Guy, Adorkable, I Just Want to Be Normal, Creature of Habit, Token Good Teammate, Super Gullible, The Teetotaler, Crisis of Faith

Vibes:

a puppy with paws still too large for their body ; awkward and sweet he stumbles over his own two feet / a single deer fawn in the middle of a forest clearing, their round eyes sparkle with curiosity, not yet knowing the cruelty of the world they clumsily walk towards you ; far too trusting for his own good, that naivety will only cause him more pain / what if we erased all of our mistakes? i want to be nice to you ; a man who doesn't guard his own heart, he says he won't trust like that again but makes the same mistake over and over again / i wanna be a fool, but you're not making it easy for me ; it's in his nature to forgive far to easily, he'll almost always bend first, but be careful, even a perpetual doormat can grow a spine if pushed too far /

Expanded Personality:

Bibiano's father has been trying to run for the senate for as long as Bibi can remember. However, as an Afro-Latino immigrant, securing the conservative vote has been quite the challenge, to say the least. To that end, Bibiano is under unending pressure to be the perfect All American Boy.

This upbringing has forced him to be more down to earth than most of the other affluent kids in Greer’s circle and thus allows him to make fast friends with people way out of his parent’s tax bracket.

Tw: references to religion, death of a child/ death of siblings (brief references to miscarriages, still born children): Bibi comes from a conservative Roman Catholic Afro-Cuban family. According to his parents, his conception was a miracle from God, a gift to reward them for their years of faith despite the siblings he had lost before they could be born. So, no, he’s not an only child, he’s the youngest of six. They’re his guardian angels, taken far too soon by their God so they could watch over him. Bibiano lives for them. To make them and their parents proud.

more to come 🕺

Connections: { here }

Playlist, Pinterest

Sample RP:

“You wouldn’t have wanted Greer to disappear, would you?”

“Excuse me?” The words were spat out of Bibiano's mouth with far more venom than he had intended. He realized his mistake when he turned his head and matched gazes with a pair of detectives in neat business casual. All in all, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The ex is always one of the first people they looked at, especially when they hadn't exactly broken up in amicable terms. And despite Greer's valiant attempt at astroturfing the reason for their split, no one had really bought the lies. (At least Bibiano sure hadn’t.) So of course Bibi knew this was coming. From the instant he had heard that she was officially a missing person he knew. He wasn’t stupid. He just, somehow, hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. Call it naivety. It was fine. He had learned how to handle these types of situations after he hit his first major growth spurt and was 5’8” at 14. Pursing his lips, Bibiano regarded the detectives for a moment before cocking his head slightly and giving them an exasperated smile. “I’d really love to answer any question you have, detectives, but it’ll have to go through my father first. You two know how he is; a real by-the-book type of guy," Bibiano chuckled softly, scratching lightly at the side of his neck. “You have Prosecutor De La Cruz’s number, right?” Bibi then pressed his lips together in a tight lipped smile, eyebrows rising good naturedly. The challenge had been clear. They should have known better.  “I’m sure the guys back in the office can help you find it if you don’t.”

Does it ever bother you, how small of a school Ogden is? And how everyone is everyone else’s business?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective.” Bibiano answered, turning away from the computer screen to look at his lab partner from over his shoulder. “Personally, I like to think of it more as…  ‘cozy’. Like, yeah, people know way more about my business than I’d like them to but the benefits outweigh the cons by a long shot.” Bibi laughed when he heard multiple grumbles in response. He hadn’t realized he had an audience. “I’m serious! Just think about it, college is half studying half networking. Where else would you have a chance to meet and make connections with all these rich kids?” Bibi asked, pushing away from the desk so he could spin his chair in a lazy circle to get a better look at the others. “Aren’t you one of the rich kids, too?” Someone said. Bibiano quirked an eyebrow at that, his lips pushed forward in an annoyed pout. “I mean, yeah, technically. But they’re old money; my family is what they call ‘new money’. Big difference,” Bibi said, tapping the side of his forehead. “Even though I grew up with the Morrisons, I don’t think they ever really thought of me as an equal. I mean, look at how fast Greer dropped me when–” Bibiano snapped his mouth shut as he noticed eyes light up with interest. He had almost said too much. “Y’know what, that’s not important. Stop distracting me, cuz if we turn in a half finished assignment I got no problem throwing you under the bus to save myself.” Bibi snarked, pointing at his lab partner. His laughter bounced off the walls when he was forced to dodge a quickly formed paper ball thrown his way. “Let’s just get back to work, okay?”

“Popularity isn’t supposed to matter past high school, but do you think Ogden has a popular crowd? Like…Greer was popular, wasn’t she?”

“Why the fuck are you talking about her in the past tense?” Bibiano snarled, glaring daggers down at the party goer that had pulled him into a private room. “Cuz last time I checked, Greer’s still marked as a missing person. Unless there’s something you know that I don’t?” Bibiano took two steps forward, closing the distance between them. “Well?” He lifted his eyebrows, his smile warped into something unfamiliar and dangerous. The usually gentle warmth in his eyes burned hotter, fueled by indignant rage. “If you got any new information, I’m dying to hear it.” It was silent in the room except for the muffled sounds of music and chatter coming from the frat party on the other side of the door. “Nothing to say now? Figures.” Bibiano sneered, pushing past them to walk towards the door. He reached for the handle and paused before turning back. “Y’know what? Do me a favor and don’t speak to me again. Matter of fact, stay away from the Morrison twins, too. God knows they have way more important things to worry about than another know-nothing clout chaser looking for the next juicy piece of gossip.” With that, Bibi stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A few heads turned towards the noise, but he didn’t wait to see if anyone called out. Taking long strides, he made it to a familiar gaudily furnished bathroom, stepped in, and locked the door behind him with trembling hands. Dropping clumsily onto the sink countertop he gripped it like a lifeline as the adrenaline slowly drained out of him. His mind was a jumbled mess, the thoughts racing far too quickly for him to make sense of anything. Bloodshot eyes flickered up to the antique gold mirror hung in front of him. He looked awful. There’s no way he could face the rest of the party looking like this. Not after the scene he had just made. They probably were already whispering among themselves, chomping at the bit to watch another star ignite into flames on their fall from grace.  Well, too bad for them. They’d have to wait a little longer before he’d let himself burn up into ash and dust.

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[salvadorbonaparte]

Sry if you've been asked this before, but did you learn all the languages that you know on your own or through school programs?

Hello. First of all, I don't actually know that many languages. I know German and English and I terribly neglected my Spanish. The other languages I've learned or dabbled in I'm beginner level at most.

I English learned in school but I became fluent through a lot of additional self study and immersion. Moving abroad also helped.

I also learned Spanish in school/university. Again, I passed a C1 class but I haven't really spoken Spanish since the start of the pandemic and I'm pretty sure my language skills are awful at the moment. I can understand Spanish but I can't speak it.

I started self studying Yiddish but currently I'm taking a weekly class to really push me to get a good foundation in the language.

I started dabbling in Portuguese for a holiday, then took a class during my year abroad but the class was horrible and I feel like I learned more by self studying and just trying to talk to people. I paused my Portuguese studies at the moment but I will return to them.

I had to take about 12h of private classes in Romanian for my volunteering. I can no longer afford those so I'll continue with self study.

I wanted to take a Croatian class but it ended up clashing with my thesis deadline. I'll self study it instead.

In general I enjoy the freedom of self study but I often need the structure of lessons to keep me motivated. Ideally I'd love to have regular private or small group meetings as check points, reasons for motivation, practice sessions or opportunities to ask questions but also a lot of opportunities for self study and immersion between those.

[sacrilegiious]

hi, my loves ! 4am but we're finally here, intro almost posted. i'm daisy ( she/her ) and this is my bby dawn. i've been playing her for a while now and i'm so excited to get to it again and see how she will interact with all of your lovely muses. dawn is my headstrong, always down to fight, antisocial girl - genuinely an all round asshole but with her heart in the right place i think ? i guess that judgment is yours to make. def looking forward to plotting w all of u okay byyyee ! <;33

꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀shin ryujin.   twenty-one.   cis woman.   she/her.⠀⠀⠀⠀꒱        hold your f*** horses !   ’dawn'  soojin jeong   has just been spotted walking into revolution headquarters. they are best known for being the   drummer   in   rad   and have been signed with the label for   six months.   they share a lot of interesting things about life in the music industry on their social media, so make sure you don’t forget to follow them at   @fuckoffjake.  fans know them for being   ruthless   but i swear they’ve got a   protective   side as well. maybe that explains why they’re always associated with   sleepless nights spent under neon lights, fingers impatiently drumming on a desk, dark eyes that refuse to look away first.   stan twitter even voted them most likely to   overthrow the government.   we’ll see how they live up to that reputation.

basics.

name:  soojin “dawn” jeong.

nicknames:  u can try i guess.

gender:  cis woman

pronouns:  she/her.

age:  21.

date of birth:  march 23rd 2001.

astrological sign: aries

place of birth: seoul, sk

nationality: korean-american

ethnicity: korean

occupation:  drummer at rad / architecture student.

sexual & romantic orientation:  bisexual, biromatic.

longest relationship: like a month probs.

appearance.

height:  1.64m / 5′4″  (as i’m being told)

weight:  50kg / 110lbs.

hair colour:  naturally black (does like dying it though).

hair style:  rn short-ish, almost reaching her shoulders.

eye colour: brown.

clothing style:  tomboy meets goth witch. almost exclusively black.

tattoos:  has several. a little D and a moon on her left hand, a rythmic score on her right ribs, a little black cat on her hip.

piercings:  ear lobes & left ear helix.

defining features:  whisker dimples, mole under left eyebrow.

character.

positive traits:  ambitious, charismatic, intelligent, self-reliant, daring, witty.

negative traits:  controlling, haughty, choleric, abrasive, impatient, judgy.

likes:  rock music, cats, the city at dawn, cool architecture, hot chocolate, asmr.

dislikes:  people (especially cis men), planes, haunted houses, brussels sprouts.

skills & languages.

notable skills: drumming, drawing, good memory, pen / drum stick spinning.

secret talents: lock picking, horseback riding.

languages spoken: Korean, English, Japanese & a bit of French.

biography.

tw: v minor mention of violence

born as jeong soojin in seoul, her life has always been predetermined by her last name, her family. she was the first child of her rather prominent parents, alongside her twin brother and both of them grew up surrounded by wealth, learning a second language by the age they were four and a third one from age nine. generally, their parents tried their best to give them everything you were supposed to give a child in order for it to develop promisingly. if raising a child were similar to a math equation that is. the only thing that they were missing, that no money or good intentions could afford them, was privacy. being one of the children of the ceo of a successful real estate company and a prominent politician meant they were always somewhat in the eye of the public. not enough to constantly be of relevance to the media but enough for any missteps to find an audience. 

making mistakes was never an option. failure not in her vocabulary as she grew up and became the over-achiever her parents had always hoped for. she was on top of her class ever since starting school and later on became not only student body president in her high school but also picked up all the right hobbies. playing the violin, horseback riding, fencing - excelling in apparently everything she touched. all the success came with a price though, the rigorous self-discipline, the complete disregard of her actual nature. inside all she felt was emptiness and that emptiness was only replaced by burning, raging anger. when she was thirteen, her blood absolutely boiling with unbridled rage, she became violent towards a classmate of hers. an incident that didn’t cause a big scandal solely because once she got home, bloody fists and all, her parents immediately paid off both the parents of said classmate as well as the members of the press who had heard of the story. everything was kept under tight wraps but it was clear there was an issue, a problem, with the golden child. therefore, she was brought to therapy, diagnosed with anger management issues and recommended to pick up a hobby that might help her with her situation. among the provided examples was drumming, something soojin would have never been allowed previously but that soon became her favorite thing to do. 

in the end, graduating with stellar results was no issue, if one thing came relatively easy to her it was academic success. still, however, she felt empty inside. felt caged in this life she had never picked yet never really tried to fight either. that was until now, when she could finally convince her parents to let her study abroad. embellishing her arguments with how impressive it would look on her CV and how it would help both her cultural and language education, she was allowed to leave the country and therefore also her parents’ and the press’ watchful eyes. she started her bachelors in architecture at ucla, actually quite passionate about the subject but she also didn’t lose sight of another thing she felt passionate about: drumming. ever since she got to the us, she changed her name to dawn, affording herself further anonymity and has finally become her own person. style, chaotic flatshare, political views and all. together with, what would soon become her two closest friends, she created the band r.a.d. about three years ago.

for a long time they were a small underground group, playing feminist punk rock was after all not truly what would catapult you into a life of stardom, or at least that is what they thought. however, after over two years of playing a lot of dingey bars, one of their songs gained some notoriety on tik tok, becoming what you might call a feminine rage hymn. with that hit song under their belt, they were approached by several record labels. dawn never felt inclined to sign, for her life was easier this way. nobody to tell them what direction to take with their music, absolute freedom. she would simply bankroll them herself. but when revolution records approached them and considering her existence of living in between the two worlds might come with an expiry date, rad agreed to sign. it gave them a sense of financial security, while also preserving their artistic freedom. for revolution, they moved across the country where now dawn is finishing up her bachelors degree mostly online.  

headcanons.

character wise she quite controlling and reckless, which can be difficult for social interactions, especially since she is absolutely unwilling to compromise in her ideals or to admit defeat. has absolutely no issue with telling people just how wrong she thinks they are. on the other hand, she has quite the dry sense of humor, can be incredibly charming if she wishes so.

is having the time of her life ever since she joined rad, she is now dressing completely different than she used to at home.  she has also started expressing her own thoughts and opinions a lot... most would say too much.

very much a destroy the patriarchy, anti-capitalistic, eat the rich, acab kind of babe.

AH YES R.A.D. dawn is the youngest member of the band and their drummer. just like at uni, she’s known exclusively as dawn in this context bc she’s still kinda trying to avoid people back at home finding out eek (hello ms hannah montana lol) - esp since r.a.d.’s specialty is angry feminist punk rock.

studies architecture and actually rlly loves it? like she will def geek out about architecture if you give her the chance.

dawn of justice was funnily enough the name of her first horse back home, so do with that info as you will.

she has the kind of personality that makes her a natural leader even though? she is an introvert? so yeah, she does prefer her solitude most of the time but don’t expect her to keep her mouth shut in social situations.

she sleeps very very little, which only adds to her high-strung personality. most of those sleepless nights are either spent performing with the band or studying.

when speaking she does have a slight korean accent.

wanted connections (wip).

i do have this sort of fun ideak that idek what to call but basically your muse and dawn got into a loud argument outside the building and somebody took pictures or videos and posted them to twitter saying they were having a lover spat. actually, they probably don’t get along great and have been trying to vehemently deny it on their social media, both losing some not so nice words about the other but it was simply interpreted by the netizens as them lovingly teasing each other soo.... that’s where we’re at basically. 

enemies / antagonists   — basically, dawn does tend to be a rude lil dickish so she’d def have quite some people who dislike her. for example that could be somebody she made fun off bc she didn’t like their music (probably called it something like mushy fluff or whatever skdfjsdf).

former hook up   —   this was definitely just casual, especially on her part. clean, no strings attached fun. well, unless maybe it wasn’t for your muse ?!  that could be a fun option as well. open for all genders.

the rare friends   —   this is the exclusive group of people she likes to be friends with asdfahd. it just be like that but ya def hmu and give my antisocial gal some friendss. maybe somebody who she actually connected with through music, or perhaps architecture.