#Best Personal Training Course in India

[fitnessmattes]

https://www.launchora.com/story/how-a-personal-training-course-can-boost-your-care

[lmiindia]

Harness the power of visualization and affirmation for greater focus and success. Mr. M. K. Tribhubavan shares his journey of how structured time management and prioritization can lead to personal and professional growth.

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For program details visit our website by clicking here

[aafmindia]

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply. 

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her. 

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct. 

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.” 

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.” 

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension. 

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window. 

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled. 

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

Part two || Series masterlist

[macaiv]

Source: Sky Sports Italy Twitter

Transcript:

Meeting Esteban Ocon So I met Esteban for the first time in Abu Dhabi and then we worked together for the post-season test and then also we did TPC testing in Jerez so we've already spent quite a long time together on track. Then we did a training camp together end of January in Geneva so that was quite fun and I think we got to know each other on a personal level as well so I think that's a good start to the year. Embedding Esteban into the team I think because Esteban's already been in the paddock for a long time and the F1 paddock is like a big family, a lot of people already know him from past teams or something. So that obviously went quite easy and since we're a British team with British humour we integrate people quite well so that's never an issue and on things he's been taking from other teams with him I think there's some things he's still used to from Force India even but since we're a small team it's quite easy to implement changes very quickly. Key to relationship between Driver and Race Engineer It's actually been quite fun because the responsibilities completely change. I think performance engineer is actually quite a hard job in this team but you stay very much in your own bubble with your car. As a race engineer you obviously have to coordinate much more and just make decisions all the time so knowing what all the other groups are doing and how they work also the guys on the car helps a lot to just make better decisions so I think that was a big bonus for me to be a performance engineer in this team before. New role as Race Engineer It's actually been quite fun because the responsibilities completely change from a performance engineer. So I think the performance engineer job is actually very hard but you're kind of stuck in the bubble of your own car. So as a race engineer you just have to zoom out and make a lot of decisions, listen to a lot of people and organise a lot of stuff. But understanding how all of these groups work, the guys on the car but also the people who focus on car performance helps you a lot to just make better decisions. Pre-season testing So obviously we have two new drivers and also the key people, loads of key people have changed. So I think their focus was mostly on integrating all the key people and improving communication amongst each other. And obviously also we're focusing on getting the most out of the car we've built. And I think so far not just in Bahrain but also the filming day in Silverstone and even TPC testing in Jerez, I think we've definitely achieved that and made good progress. Personal lessons Personally I've learnt a lot how to communicate better with Esteban and how we get the most out of each other. But also working with the team and understanding which course to make to the mechanics. That's, I think, been my biggest takeaway. Expectations going into Melbourne I think I never really have expectations and also we won't know until qualifying or even the race, but so far I think there's nothing saying we can't be on par with our performance last year or even improve from that, so I'm quite positive. Becoming First Female Race Engineer in Formula 1 Personally, I just want to focus on doing a good job and getting the best out of the team and the car. For me, being the first female race engineer in F1 is actually quite sad, but I think the problem with that is just representation. So if my face being on TV can make girls and young women think they can achieve this too, I'm actually quite happy.

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Understanding the Fees for Acting Classes in Mumbai and Choosing the Right Acting Studio

Mumbai, the nucleus of the entertainment industry in India, is truly the ultimate dream destination for aspiring actors. Loads of training options are available, but one major issue for many is understanding the acting class fees in Mumbai and picking out the available best acting studio in Mumbai that is right for them in terms of budget and requirements.

Factors Determining Acting Class Fees in Mumbai

Acting classes are set in different price ranges per the following considerations. Here are the key determinants:

The reputation of the Academy—Celeb Studios maintains its fees to ensure its credibility and successful alumni network.

Course Duration—Workshops are always cheaper than a full series of diploma classes.

Trainer Experience—Workshops by industry professionals or veteran actors will go for a higher fee.

Facilities Provided—A good-quality studio with the latest technical equipment, casting training, and facilities will increase the fee.

Batch Size—Smaller batch sizes warrant a higher fee since they amount to personalized coaching.

Acting class fees in Mumbai range from about INR 10,000 for any short-term workshops to some INR 200,000 for full-fledged programs. Prospective students must decide according to their budgets weighed against career goals.

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Choosing the right Indian studio in Mumbai becomes extremely significant if you wish to receive adequate training and exposure to the industry.

Comprehensive Training Modules: Modules cover method acting, improvisation, voice modulation, and on-camera techniques.

Experienced Faculty: Get trained by actors, directors, and theatre veterans.

Hands-on Experience: Applied training by way of short films, theatre plays, and mock auditions.

Networking Opportunities: They should provide access to professionals from the industry, including casting directors and production houses.

Flexible Learning Options: Weekend or part-time batches should be available for working professionals.

How to Choose the Right Acting Studio for Your Price Point

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Research and Compare—Find the student reviews of past students, the success stories of students, and the course curriculum before you finalise the institute.

Visit the Studio—Inspect the infrastructure, training atmosphere, and expertise of the trainer.

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Asanas (Postures): Learn the foundational poses that form the core of yoga practice.

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Choosing the Right Yoga School in India

Selecting the right school is crucial for a fulfilling YTT experience. Look for:

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Experienced Teachers: Check the credentials and teaching experience of the faculty.

Curriculum: Opt for a program that aligns with your goals.

Location: Choose a location that complements your learning and personal growth journey.

The Benefits of Yoga Teacher Training in India

Professional Certification

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Personal Transformation

Beyond professional growth, YTT in India fosters profound personal transformation, instilling discipline, mindfulness, and a deeper connection with oneself.

Global Networking

Studying in India brings together yoga enthusiasts from all corners of the globe, offering opportunities to form lasting friendships and professional networks.

Practical Tips for Your Yoga Journey in India

Pack Smart: Bring comfortable yoga attire and essentials like a yoga mat and reusable water bottle.

Embrace Simplicity: Many schools offer basic accommodations and vegetarian meals, encouraging a minimalist lifestyle.

Stay Open-Minded: Immerse yourself fully in the culture and practices, even if they seem unfamiliar at first.

Health Precautions: Ensure you’re vaccinated and carry any necessary medications.

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[leonidasxx]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Leonidas 'Leo’ Desai, the 32 year old caretaker at Cardinal Hill Cemetery/bartender at Breaking Glass Bar originally from Ahmedabad, India. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're resilient and standoffish, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something... Avan Jogia, bisexual, cismale, he/him

trigger warnings: alcoholism, parent death

Name: Leonidas "Leo" Desai - formerly Raja St. James Age: 33 years old Birthday: October 31 Zodiac sign: Scorpio Witch or human: witch Hometown: Ahmedabad, India Occupation: Caretaker at Cardinal Hill Cemetery/bartender at Breaking Glass Bar Sexuality: bisexual Family: Mother Shavi - formerly Anju (deceased), father Owen

Leonidas Desai wasn't always Leonidas Desai. He was born Raja St. James to a Canadian father and Indian Gujarati mother. His parents were both academics, his father teaching at CEPT University in Ahmedabad when he met Raja's mother, Anju. Raja came from a long line of powerful witches on both sides of his family, his bloodline ancient and respected for their power as much as their discretion about which to use it, or at least that was how it used to be. It still was on his mother's side of the family, but the same could not be said for his father's. Over the generations, that side of the family began to use their power for less than virtuous reasons, aiming to advance their own personal agendas rather than to use their power for the greater good. For awhile though, it seemed that Raja's father Owen had escaped the curse of greed that had befallen so much of his family, but Raja and Anju would learn that Owen was just adept at hiding his true intentions. In fact, he may have been the worst of them all.

It started slowly at first, but more and more, Owen became tempted by dark magic, at first simply "researching" it. But eventually Owen began to succumb to its thrall. When Raja was seven, they could no longer ignore what Owen was doing, and when Anju tried to pull her husband out of the clutches of this dark power, he became threatening - and absolutely terrifying. Anju knew what she had to do. There was no saving her husband, but she could save her son. So they left in the night, using magic to keep Owen from finding them. With their escape, they needed to adopt new names. And thus Anju and Raja St. James became Shavi and Leonidas Desai, Meanwhile, Shavi was inspired by a man who faced impossible odds bravely while choosing a new name for her son, and she chose the name Leonidas. She called him Leo.

Coming from such a long line of witches, Leo of course proved to be a witch himself, his powers first making themselves known at a young age - he was only nine at the time. And they showed themselves in full force, and very quickly he developed them and gained a remarkable level of mastery over them, especially considering his youth. Shavi trained her son, and he grew powerful so quickly that it almost scared her. She knew that power had corrupted her husband's family line, and she briefly worried that her son would succumb to the same temptation. But Shavi also knew that Leo had a good heart, so she taught him her values and morals the best she could, and overtime Leo developed a respect and reverence for what he could do. The young man knew he had a gift, one that should not be used for unsavory purposes, and Shavi had never been prouder of her only child. But Leo's father had other intentions. He knew that his son would grow into a powerful witch, and he wanted to pass down his own values; he wanted to teach Leo what he could be with the power of dark magic, and Owen aimed to track down his wife and son.

Unfortunately, Leo had a far from idyllic childhood. Because Owen - full of rage over what his wife had done - was looking for them, Leo and his mother were forced to always be on the move. The longest they ever stayed anywhere after leaving India was for six months, and even that was rare. On the one hand, Leo saw so much of the world, living on every continent (well, except Antarctica) at some point in his life and gaining some level of knowledge in many languages apart from his native Gujarati and English, including proficiency in Hindi, Spanish, French, Italian, Bengali, Romanian, Swahili, Japanese, Welsh, and Russian, among others, along with fluency. It was a fascinating upbringing, Leo feeling like he was always learning, but it was a lonely one too. While he would sometimes make friends for the brief time he was living somewhere new, it was usually just Leo and his mother. And though Shavi loved her son, Leo still felt very much cut off from other people, and in time it became difficult for him to connect with others. To make it even worse, Leo had no idea why they even needed to be constantly moving since Shavi hadn't told her son the truth about his father. All Leo knew was that Owen was a bad man, and he couldn't find them, but Leo had no idea the full extent of his father's corruption - or his intentions for his son.

Even after becoming a legal adult, Leo felt like he needed to stay with his mother. His power had surpassed hers, and he sensed before his mother did that something was wrong. She was sick, and for awhile neither of them acknowledged it, but eventually they couldn't ignore it anymore. So just as Shavi had protected Leo his entire life, Leo now became his mother's protector, and they continued to move around as much as they could, though the frequency with which they moved somewhere new lessened as his mother sought treatment. It was around this time that Leo began drinking. The weight of his unusual childhood - and now young adulthood - sat heavily on his shoulders, and Leo felt himself nearly collapsing under the weight of it. He was lonely, and as his mother grew sicker, he was sad too. Leo's life had been marked by solitude and inconsistency and fear, and as his mother slipped away, sorrow seeped its way into his heart as well. Drinking was the only way he could forget, though as he realized the effect it had on his powers, he tried to keep it under control.

Leo and his mother eventually moved to Cardinal Hill, and they remained here for a full year. Shavi had told Leo that she could receive good treatment here in a town full of witches, and while that was true, Leo knew his mother was lying. This was where she would die, and Shavi wanted Leo to be among his people while he figured out what to do next. And as she came to the end of her long road, Shavi knew she needed to tell Leo the whole truth. Allies back in India had kept her appraised of her husband's machinations and misdeeds, and she knew that Owen had not turned over a new leaf in the time she and Leo had been away. If anything, he had fallen even more under the thrall of dark magic, and he'd never stopped looking for them. So Shavi told Leo everything, told him the terrible truth about his father, and with the last of her energy, she cast a spell of protection to keep her son safe and hopefully conceal his whereabouts from Owen. And then Shavi died.

With his mother gone, Leo was adrift. He understood now why they had always been moving, why he'd lived the life that he had, but it didn't change the fact that he was shattered. Leo felt like he had no true identity, like he'd never been able to figure out who he was beyond a nomadic witch. What did he want to do with his life? What were his goals and dreams and aspirations? These were things Leo had never really thought about, and even though he finally could now, the loss of everything he'd ever known destroyed him. What was the point in thinking about those things now? So Leo stayed in Cardinal Hill, and he kept drinking, even more so now than before. It didn't matter to Leo anymore how it affected his powers; nothing mattered anymore. He went from being a magical prodigy to a burnout. Leo became a bartender at Breaking Glass Bar, mostly for the free (well sort of free as long as the owner didn't find out) alcohol, and he also became the caretaker at Cardinal Hill Cemetery. He felt more at peace there among the dead than anywhere else, and this way Leo could ensure his mother's grave was given the respect it deserved.

There was one thing that troubled Leo more than anything else though. His mother's friends back in India now kept Leo informed about what his father was doing, and it was horrifying. Owen was a husk of the man who'd been the husband to Anju, father to Raja. He exerted his control in every way he could, a terror among the magical community of India, even to the people loyal to him. And increasingly, his influence was spreading beyond Ahmedabad, beyond India, extending further and further to far reaches of the world. Leo sometimes felt like he was being watched, though rationally he knew it was most likely just paranoia; his psychic acuity had been dampened by his alcohol use. Still, Leo worried it was only a matter of time before Owen would finally find him. And even more than that, Leo was afraid that he wouldn't be ready if or when that happened.

Wanted connection

Coworkers: Leo is a caretaker at the Cardinal Hill Cemetery and a bartender at Breaking Glass Bar. He's kind of closed off, but he probably talks to his coworkers more than anyone else because he's with them so much. It would be nice if they could maybe become more than just people who work together

Best friend: This can be a new or developing relationship. I really like the idea that Leo is usually pretty emotionally distant, but there's one person in particular who kind of breaks down (or already broke down) his defenses. He might not be totally himself around that person yet, especially if it's a developing friendship, but he'll get there

Friends from his past: Leo is from India originally and has lived all around the world, so it would be really interesting to play against someone he was friends with from somewhere he's lived before who had no idea why he had to leave suddenly

[careermantradotorg]

FORE School of Management: A Premier Institution for Future Business Leaders

When it comes to pursuing a management degree in India, FORE School of Management stands out as a top choice for aspiring business leaders. Established in 1981, the institute has consistently been ranked among the best business schools in the country. Located in the heart of South Delhi, FORE (Foundation for Organizational Research and Education) offers a dynamic learning environment that blends academic rigor with practical experience. This blog delves into why FORE School of Management should be on your radar if you’re looking to excel in the world of business.

Academic Excellence at FORE School of Management

One of the primary reasons behind the success of FORE School of Management is its commitment to academic excellence. The institute offers a range of programs including:

Post Graduate Diploma in Management (PGDM): FORE’s flagship program, recognized for its cutting-edge curriculum that aligns with industry trends.

PGDM in International Business: A specialized program focusing on the global aspects of business management.

Executive PGDM: Tailored for working professionals, this course offers flexible learning without compromising on content.

PGDM in Big Data Analytics: Preparing future leaders to handle complex data-driven decision-making.

Each of these programs is designed to equip students with both theoretical knowledge and practical skills necessary for navigating today’s business challenges.

Industry-Centric Curriculum

FORE School of Management understands that the corporate world is constantly evolving. To ensure that students are prepared for these changes, the curriculum is regularly updated in consultation with industry experts. The school’s focus on experiential learning through case studies, live projects, internships, and workshops sets it apart from other business schools. This approach bridges the gap between classroom learning and real-world business applications, ensuring that graduates are industry-ready from day one.

World-Class Faculty

A business school is only as good as its faculty, and at FORE School of Management, students are mentored by some of the best minds in the academic and business worlds. The faculty comprises experienced academicians, researchers, and industry professionals who bring a wealth of knowledge and real-world insights into the classroom. Their expertise spans various disciplines, including marketing, finance, operations, human resources, and data analytics, among others.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure

FORE School of Management provides students with a modern, tech-enabled campus that fosters learning and innovation. The school boasts:

Smart Classrooms: Equipped with the latest technology to enhance interactive learning.

Library and Information Centre: A vast repository of books, journals, and digital resources for research and study.

Computer Labs: Cutting-edge infrastructure for data analytics and other specialized software training.

Hostel Facilities: Comfortable accommodation for outstation students, ensuring a conducive living environment.

The campus also offers various recreational and fitness facilities, making it a holistic space for personal and professional development.

Strong Industry Connections and Placement Records

One of the standout features of FORE School of Management is its robust placement record. The institute has consistently attracted top-tier companies across sectors for campus recruitment. Students have landed roles in organizations like Deloitte, KPMG, EY, PwC, Nestlé, HCL, and many more.

The school’s Corporate Interaction Division (CID) plays a crucial role in fostering these relationships by organizing seminars, guest lectures, and industry visits. These initiatives provide students with the opportunity to network with industry leaders and gain valuable insights into current business practices.

Focus on Entrepreneurship and Innovation

In today’s fast-paced business world, the ability to innovate is crucial for success. FORE School of Management encourages entrepreneurial thinking and supports budding entrepreneurs through its various initiatives. The institute has an Entrepreneurship Development Cell (EDC) that provides mentorship, resources, and opportunities for students to turn their business ideas into reality.

Global Exposure

In a globalized business environment, having international exposure can set you apart. FORE School of Management offers various exchange programs and partnerships with international universities, providing students with a global perspective on business management. These programs help students gain insights into different markets, cultures, and business practices, making them well-rounded professionals ready to take on global challenges.

Conclusion

Choosing the right business school is a critical decision, and FORE School of Management offers everything you need to succeed in today’s competitive business landscape. With its strong focus on academic excellence, industry relevance, innovation, and global exposure, FORE continues to be a leader in management education. If you’re looking to build a successful career in business, FORE School of Management is undoubtedly an institution worth considering.