#tuition music drill

[satrs]

WICKED GAMES. @Gojo.satoru

SYNOPSIS; Satoru Gojo is your nemesis - vise versa. Or so you thought.

FEATURING; Virgin!Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

WK; 4k.

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI! college au. richhhh Gojo. enemies to lovers. insulting. gojo hurts readers feelings with insults, vise versa. clothed grinding. unprotected sex. virginity loss. prn with plot.

"And who exactly invited you here?"

It's loud, thick air from the crowded space not too far away from where you're trying to escape the loud music blasting in your ear drums, head throbbing in pain, only to increase due to the annoying and unexpected - obstacle on your way to the restroom.

Your brows crinkle in irritation at the young man's question, flashing him a look of disgust. "That's none of your business." Your eyes drill holes into his skull, clicking your tongue at his attitude. "Can you move out the fucking way?", you ask rather rhetorical, irritated, you try to stomp past him, only to be hindered by his large frame hovering above you, his intimidating aura drowning out the loud chatting and music in the background, heart thumping in your chest as you struggle to hold eye contact, eyes flickering from his to the wall right beside you, gritting your teeth in annoyance.

He looks you up and down, tongue pocking the inside of his cheek. "It's my business since you're in my house."

You scoff, a sly smirk creeping its way up your lips. "Your house? If I'm not mistaken, Suguru lives here. Rings a bell? Geto Suguru, the host of this party? Also, the one who invited me here?"

"Suguru, Satoru, same shit. What's his is mine. So, again, what in Christ's name are you doing in my house?"

Your anger only grows, rumbling up a storm inside your stomach. Who the hell does he think he is? 'What's his is mine'? Fucking bullshit. "Look, I know that you two are friends-"

"Best friends", he interrupts, a vein on his forehead almost popping out of rage. Your patience is hanging onto a thing fucking threat at this point, playing out multiple ways to beat this bastard's ass up in your mind.

"The best of friends", you mock him, eyes closing for a second to regain your composer. "Whatever, I don't give a shit. Suguru and I also happened to be friends, and he invited me here. Out of kindness, I came." You pause, scanning his posture for any slight sign of comfort to make your escape, the idea soon turning into a cloud of smoke at his focused expression, his whole attention focused solely on you. "I've tried to avoid you all night. But you're stuck to my ass like a tick."

You make sure to spit out the last word, making sure he heard it loud and clear.

"I didn't ask who invited you, I asked why, the fuck, you are here."

"Now, I swear to God, Gojo. You better know what's best for you and get. Out. Of my way."

Satoru Gojo.

You hate the taste his name left in your mouth, and you hate the sight of him. That's why you refused to attend to this shitty frat party so many times. But your friend, who also happens to be Gojo's childhood buddy, begged and pleaded, until you eventually caved in.

You know how much this party means to him. Tying new connections to various people around the area, show of status, maybe even get a taste of some hot thing. All of that high top stuff.

You're not into that kind of lifestyle, showing off money and throwing it around as if it grew on trees, especially as a college student. Most students who attend this shit-show treat their academic success was careless and straight up foolish - running around to be a part of the 'high society' on the campus, while their tuition fees light up into red numbers.

One of the many reasons you hate Satoru Gojo is exactly that. His reputation. He is, how other students would say, part of the 'high society' - got his tuition fees covered by the wealth of his parents, grades never good, but after some sweet-talk with his professor, he surprisingly passes all of his classes with flying colors. One way or the other, he gets what he wants. He always does.

He is the definition of 'money can buy anything'.

But it's not the money alone, it's his attitude of his that just has you ball your hands into a fist.

Not one day goes past without him rubbing his wealth under everyone's noses. It didn't matter who it was, he was going to show them that he was better than them, richer, stronger.

He is the strongest.

Even though he never offended you directly, his distant glares and arrogant looks were enough for you to develop the hatred you have towards him. He always looked down on everyone he talked to, if they manage to even get him to pay attention to them, that is.

You really didn't want to even see him at this party, not attempting to ruin your mood with someone like him. So, you had to avoid him at all cost. In the end you figured, it wouldn't hurt to attend a party again, enjoying the company of others more than usual in your full-scheduled student life, escaping the never ending cycle for even just a little bit of fun. Also, the chance of running into him in such a massive house was slim. Until now.

You wish you could just kill him right here, that's how deep your hatred is seated. His feelings are mutual.

It's not like he ever paid attention to your presence, hell, he didn't even know you existed until you were all up in his business, always having a remark ready when he said anything to anyone. Yeah, he can be a bit mean at times, but it's nothing harsh, just jokes. They all know, for sure.

At first, he thought you're cute, and you still are, being honest. Gorgeous even. Maybe even the prettiest girl he's ever seen. But only if you keep that damned mouth of yours shut.

He can't stand your constant sense of justice, bugging him with issues someone like him could never even bother himself with. Babbling nonsense of 'fairness' and 'inequality' when he just supports the economy. Some, with some he means, you, see his actions as cruel but, if you were in his position, wouldn't you do the same?

Why can't you just mind your business and stop bothering him with your bullshit? It's not like your endless talking would change anything.

You're a nobody.

"Hello? Is your ass that stuffed of money that you can't follow simple instructions anymore? Get out of my way!"

Who does he think he is?

You scream into his face, blood rushing up your face as your anger pours out of you, all you see is red. If he doesn't move out the way at this instant, you're going to-

Who do you think you are?

He exhales a deep breath, scanning the area around you two before he swiftly takes a hold of your arm. You spit out curses at him, roughly trying to free yourself from his grasp, only to be dragged along until he rushes you into an empty room down the hall.

"Let go-!" And he does, pushing you into the empty guest room, closing the door right behind him. You swallow at the tension, the music only faint to notice, turning the room almost dead silent.

You stand, your ground, furrowed eyebrows indicating your mood. "You-!"

Before you can even think of an insult, he interrupts you in an instant, causing your body to tense up at his unusual dark tone. It's almost scary how his expression changes into something unreadable. "Shut the fuck up", he breathed out, head falling back as his hands brushes across his face, a long sigh leaving his lips while looking at the ceiling.

"Can you? Just be quiet for one second." And you did, exhaustion washing over your body as you look around the room, turning on your heels to look at anything but him.

"It's always people like you", he begins, eyes trailing after your movements, "always those nobodies who got their nose all up in my business. You're the one who's a tick on my ass." He begins to follow your footsteps to the bathroom, halting at the door to lean against the door frame, looking down at your body seated on the closed toilette, head in hands. "You're jealous."

Jealous? Not only jealous - you're green of envy.

He was born with everything and anything you could ask for. He already got his future set, like food on a platter. You on the other hand have to work hard, to pay for college, rent, and other necessities. And he? He gets money shoved up his butt every other week, not lifting a finger. And worst of all, he's not even grateful for his privileged life. Perhaps, that's also a big reason you hate him.

"I'm obsessed? Now tell me who exactly dragged me into this room!", You snap your head up, teeth gritting together, tears threatening to trickle down your face.

"You cryin'?" You try to wipe the tear off your face unnoticed, but it's already too late. He nears you, leaning down and looking at you with that look again.

As if you're nobody.

"Don't change the topic", you sniffle between tears, turning your face away from him so you don't have to see him looking down at you. But you still feel his eyes on you, an unreadable expression on his face as he inspects your form, an odd feeling bubbling up in his stomach.

Guilt?

He feels bad for you, he feels bad for making you feel this way. An apology tickles the tip of his tongue, but he closed his mouth before he dared to shatter his own ego.

"Fuck." He lets it slip out in a whisper, trying to think of possibilities to clear the confusion. Truth was, he looked for you around the whole house with the intention of making things right with you. Because he actually doesn't hate you how you think he would.

Suguru, his childhood best friend, knows how bad Satoru is with words, and how little to no remorse he has while talking to people, especially to girls. He also knows something else about Satoru, something that nobody, maybe not even himself, is aware of. That's the whole reason why he even invited you here. For the both of you to talk things out.

He planned it all out, pleading and begging you to come, and also loosing his pride in the process, up to the empty room, knowing that only Satoru would know what part of the house would be abandoned during a party, up to talking him into finally talk to you - without any bickering or insulting. An honest talk, just the two of you, nothing else.

"Look", he feels his heart sink into his stomach as he notices your attention is on him. "I-" He stops at the sight of your teary face, every part of his body telling him to just apologize properly, and just leave it be, or kiss it better.

What is he thinking?

"I just want this shit to end. Stop bothering me. Stop pocking around my business. Then we'll be good." Fucking dumbass. He facepalms himself mentally, eyes widening in shock at the sound of your soft giggle.

"Didn't anyone teach you how to apologize?" Looking up at your face again, he can see a faint but visible smile on your face and, thank God, what a relief.

"You know I won't say that."

"Why?"

"Because there is no reason to."

His posture stiffens at the sound of you getting up from the toilet. "Alright then. There's nothing to 'be good' then," You walk past him, back into the room, "I'll leave."

"Wait."

You can hear him entering the room. You smirk to yourself before turning around, ready to see his ego shattering down, and-

"I don't hate you, Y/N."

What?

The smirk quickly washed off your face, confusion replacing it. Was this some sort of joke?

"I'll explain it to you, just-" he sighs, swallowing his pride before continuing, "stay. Please." You're taken aback by his sudden change, the soft and pleading look on his face. He never looked anywhere near unappealing to you, it was just his attitude. But now?

You don't know what's gotten into you, but you feel like staying, like something will happen. Suddenly you're not angry anymore, you're calm, collected, but most of all, curious.

He sighs in relief as you halt your movements, slowly expecting him to continue. His feet drag to the bed, awkwardly sitting at the edge of it as his hand motions you to sit beside him, eyes looking up at you expectantly.

You hesitate at first, you want to turn back and get out, but something just keeps your feet moving, your eyes never leaving his face.

And when you sit beside him, you come to realize how handsome he is up close, observing his bright ocean blue eyes, searching for something you can't explain in them.

You snap back to reality, eyes now looking down at your fingers tapping at your thigh awkwardly. "So?", you whisper into the thin air, for no reason at all. Slowly you look up at him face again, and instead of an answer, you found what you were looking for.

His lips smash onto yours as your eyes widen before you sigh into the kiss in relief, leaning your head into the hand he held up at your cheek. You push right into him, softly crawling onto his lap while your hands tangle into his hair as you feel him shiver underneath you at the feeling of your clothed heat covering his groin.

Breaking the kiss to catch your both's breaths, you look at each other in pure bliss. You lose yourself in his angelic eyes as his flicker from your eyes to your lips expectantly, hoping - no, begging for you to catch on.

"I like you," he curses under his breath once your cunt sits right on his half-hard length, breathing turning ragged, "I really like you."

You catch onto his intention and breath out s light laugh, placing a quick kiss to his lips, causing him to chase after your lips right after, and you bite back a laugh right after. "I figured." Your lips are back on his as you begin to grind your hips against his in a needy manner, a soft moan being swallowed by his lips as his hands firmly hold onto your rear, setting a steady rhythm.

With every move of your hips, the tent in his pants only grows, his hands turn rougher with each friction of your clother cunt against his hard length.

Fuck, he might burst into his pants right now. You look so angelic above him, breaking from the kiss to carefully tearing the shirt from him so you could admire his fine build before softly pushing him onto the sheets, his white hair spread across the silk as his chest heaves with every further inch your delicate fingers took towards his groin with the intention of freeing his aching cock from his painfully tight boxers.

And you do just that, eyes sparkling in anticipation at the sight of his gorgeous cock, pre leaking from the tip as he hisses at the hit of cold air he feels against his head.

"Hah- I-", his head pushes back into the sheets, eyes closing while he lets out a soft whine once your hand contracts around his dick, thumb teasing his slit.

"You what? Cat caught your tongue?", you tease, your other hand occupied with lazily pushing your panties to the side, lifting your hips up, ready to aline his head to your entrance, damp folds eager to feel him inside of you.

He lifts his head up, looking at your exposed cunny right before him, his hand flying up to your hips, squeezing them to get you to halt your actions. "I never did this", he breathes out, cheeks turning into a faint tint of red at your dumbfounded expression. Your hips come back down to rest on his lap, biting your lip, aroused of the idea that you're his first. "Are you serious?" And with his nod, you feel your cunt pulsating in excitement, neck craning down to capture his lips again.

You lift your hips to rest on his exposed cock, wet cunt slowly gliding along his length. Your swollen clit catches onto his end, the both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hips speedily buck up into yours, urging you to slide his plumb tip into your entrance. The firm grip his hands have on your waist guaranteed a leaving impression on your skin - but you don't care.

Not right now, not like this- when you have him of all people imaginable underneath you, his hot breath tickling your nose while his eyes lusted over you, curious of your next move.

You smirk down at him, a breathy laugh escaping you as your hand sneaks down to take hold of his pulsating length, aligning it to your entrance.

And with your gummy walls enveloping his tip in a tight grip, every past lingering grudge flows out of the window. He swallows, hard, head tipping back in pleasure while you inch your hips down further and further, biting your lip to contain your moans.

If there's heaven, this is it. Yes, he had his fair share of make out sessions, girls soaking his fingers and he was no stranger to blowjobs. But this? This feeling, your soft walls hugging his cock so perfectly, as if your pussy was made for him, waiting for him.

"Ohhhhh, f-fuck!-" A strangled whine escapes his lips once you bottom out, sweat forming at his forehead. It feels like you're suffocating him, his breath gets caught in his lungs, his eyes threatening to move to the very back of his skull.

With his face scrunching up in pleasure, one hand leaves the bruising grip on your waist as he tries his best to get up on his elbow, mouth hanging wide open.

"Are you alright?", you breathe out, breathing turning rapid. You can feel each vein of his dick pulsating inside your soaking cunt, your hand brushing across his defined abdomen.

"More than alright", he scoffed, his eyebrows furrowing, now fully propped up against the headboard. His absent hand finds its way to your ass, squeezing it, a desperate gaze inspecting every inch of your body. "Please, move."

And you comply, bracing yourself on his shoulders as you begin a steady pace, breasts bouncing up his face with each movement of your hips.

"Fuckkkkkk, yesyesyes!", his mouth captured your neglected nipple, his wet muscle swiping across the bud whilst his occupied hand harshly squeezes your rear, fat spilling between the gaps of his slender fingers as he roughly moves your hips against his, the newfound rhythm causing him to let out a sob.

Each rut of your hips only makes his love for you grow even stronger, now that you took the most precious thing he claimed to be his as your own, he's sure that this is right. If he had any doubts before this, then it's certain that they now disappeared into the thin air. There's nothing but desperation and desire for you clouding his mind - he needs you, he needs to feel the comfort of your velvet walls, your moans against his lips, your skin against his - you, you you.

Your clit continuously brushes against his pelvic bone. "Mhmmm, right there", you whine, hands desperately clawing at his shoulders with your eyes squeezed shut.

It's almost embarrassing how fast you're threatening to near your release, considering that he was the virgin. On top of that, the he in question being Gojo Satoru. You hated-

Your eyes shoot open, back coming in contact with the silk sheets before you feel his mouth on yours again, his tongue prodding at your lip. "You feel so fucking good, baby", he mumbled against your lips, his hips speed up while his hands roam your body in such a longing manner. "Don't want anything but this", he lifts your leg up his shoulder, straightening his back as he felt a tightness in his stomach. "Nothing 's better but this perfect cunt. Love it so much, fuck- love you, I love you baby."

Wait, why did you hate him again?

You moan at his words, the confusing mist clearing up with each mesmerizing thrust of his hips, your eyes full of admiration when you view him leaving open mouth kisses against your ankle, his eyes never daring to leave yours.

"'m gonna cum, toru- fuckfuckfuck, yes! Don't stop pleaseee-" And with that, you fall into the tantalizing sea of pleasure, sucking your stomach in while reaching your hand to his hip in an attempt to stop him, the pleasure too much for you to bear.

A low groan leaves him at the sound of the nickname you gave him, hips unintentionally speeding up, sweat rolling down his chest. He feels like he's gonna bust any second now, his tip nudging your gummy spot with each stroke, taking the shaky hand on his stomach in his to reach it up to his lips and plant a quick kiss on it.

"A-atta, girl. Fuck, you're so goddamn pretty. Can't last much longer, baby." His glistening eyes look between your bodies, the movement of his hips flattering as he nears his release.

"Shiiiiit, never felt so good in my entire life. Wanna stay inside of you forever. T-think I'm gonna cum."

The sight of your spasming cunt spurting against his lower abdomen was enough for him to burst right inside your welcoming hole, one last drive of his hips following to dwell a little longer in the pleasure before pulling out of your hole.

His body slumps onto of yours, nuzzling his head into your neck. You let out a breathy giggle, still out of breath, as your hand reaches up to stroke his hair affectionately.

Soon, the both of your breathings calm down, silence drowning the room, no one daring to continue where you left off.

"You sure this was your first time?", you joke, earning a laugh from the young man. He lifts his head, eyes locking with yours. "I'm a natural, you know."

You hide your laugh while turning to the side. His eyes roam your face with pure affection, love struck from your wholehearted laugh and suddenly, he regrets every past resentment he had against you.

" You're so damn pretty", he whispers, causing you to turn and look at him, his eyes wandering aver your features. "I'm serious", he continues, in answer to your skeptical stare.

It was weird, seeing his usual distasteful expression being replaced by such an adoring gaze, tempting you to look into his ocean kissed eyes for all eternity.

Every past resentment you had against him long forgotten, the future the only thing occupying your mind now. If he's really serious, could you both-

"Let me make it up to you."

You snap out of your thoughts, perplexed by his words. Before you can say anything, he continues.

" Take you out on a date. A proper date. Apologize for real." He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth again, nervous about what was about to come.

"I was serious about earlier, you know. I really do like you. I'm just-" he breathes out, trying to find the right words.

"An asshole?", you answer for him, earning a quick laugh in return. "Yeah. A big one at that." he raises from his position, looking down at you, almost pleading for your approval. "Please, y/n. I'll do anything for you to make it up. Give this - us a chance."

You look up at him, a small smile on your face. "Please," he whispered again once you sit up, carefully taking your hand in his, eyes pleading for a response.

Once your hand reaches up for his cheek, stroking it lovingly while you place a fond kiss against his lips, he got the answer he always wanted.

"Okay, let's try."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[belle--ofthebrawl]

2, 14, 20 for the fanfic asks!

What is your least favorite trope to write?

I'm so sorry, I can not take Dark Academia seriously. Is dark academia a trope? I get the vibe and respect it but...all I can think of is that one post about the dark jock bullying the dark academia nerds before practicing for the big dark football game.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just not approaching it the right way because expensive private schools rotting from within both metaphorically and physically should be right up my alley. Very gothic. But I can't. I'm too busy cackling over dark lunchladies. Dark homecoming with dark chaperones. Dark...I don't know, fire drills, since everyone is always reading by candlelight with piles of old books. All that tuition and it doesn't buy an ounce of common sense...I did enjoy that documentary about Bama Rush and The Machine but bleach blonde hair and pink tennis skirts don't scream dark academia, despite aligning perfectly with what I think dark academia is trying to do but ~make it spooky~.

First fandom you ever wrote fanfiction for?

...

Yu-Gi-Oh. If I remember correctly.

Hardest character to write/get the characterization correct for?

Since all of this is pure fanon, there's not much real characterization besides what we get on stage. But I will say Cirrus, for the longest time. So finally I sat down with her and let her do her thing in Aeolian Music and now I get her down a lot easier. She's strikingly similar to Dew, I think. Good at what she does, a tease when she wants to be, terrifying if you catch her in the wrong mood but sit and stay with her long enough and she'll be soft with you. I love her.

[meteortutors]

Unlock Your Musical Potential This Summer with Group Tuition!

🎶 Are you a passionate music lover looking to take your skills to new heights? Look no further! Join our exclusive summer group tuition program tailored specifically for mastering musical aptitude tests. 🎶

🎵 Pitch Perfect: Learn to identify and reproduce pitches flawlessly. Our experienced instructors will guide you through various exercises and techniques, ensuring your pitch recognition reaches unmatched levels. 🎵

🎶 Melody Mastery: Dive into the world of captivating melodies as our experts teach you the secrets of crafting unforgettable musical lines. Unleash your creativity and learn to compose enchanting melodies that will leave a lasting impression. 🎶

🎵 Rhythm Revolution: Get ready to groove! Develop a rock-solid sense of rhythm through our dynamic exercises and drills. Discover the intricacies of different rhythmic patterns and syncopations, enhancing your ability to perform with precision and flair. 🎵

🎶 Texture Techniques: Explore the layers of music as we delve into the fascinating world of musical texture. Learn how to identify and create rich, harmonious textures that add depth and complexity to your compositions. 🎶

🎵 Why Choose Our Summer Group Tuition? 🎵

🎶 Don't miss out on this incredible opportunity to enhance your musical abilities! Spaces are limited, so enroll now to secure your spot in our summer group tuition program. 🎶

🎵 To register or learn more, visit our website at https://www.meteortutors.com/workshops or call us at 07912 607657. Unleash your musical potential this summer - let the harmony begin! 🎵

[mismaeve]

After Hours

↳ Armitage Summer Splash, Nr.9 Trope: Coffee Shop Prompt: "You've never cared about me. Only yourself" RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader, Modern AU Warnings: None Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Well, I don't know what this is, all I know is that I was rushing and I was excited. I've not written for him before at all, so go easy on me. I'm very insecure about this piece, but here it is. Hope it will be somewhat enjoyable. And also, thank you so much @i-did-not-mean-to for encouraging me and believing in me. Love you tons!

Why you had agreed to this disaster in the making, you couldn’t tell, but when the dark-haired bundle of muscle and unruly gruff finally arrived – an hour late as per usual – you realised it no longer mattered.

It wasn’t surprising either when you caught yourself sporting a self-indulgent look of smugness while watching the star quarterback stroll past the group of cheerleaders and otherwise swooning girls that stalked his every move with dreamy eyes and wishful sighs – made even better by the fact that Thorin appeared to be completely oblivious to it all – as he made his way towards the counter where you were waiting for him. You had to admit, it felt good being the sole reason for his being there. Not to mention, it would give them all something to talk about, even if they didn’t know the full story as to why Thorin kept meeting you at the café where you worked at precisely – a good hour later – 5pm every day.

Having long decided that you weren’t going to be one of those girls, you quickly replaced your smug grin with a slightly annoyed expression, after all – he was late.

“Hey,” Thorin greeted you with his usual half-smile, half-smirk, otherwise known as the lady charmer, that was fool-proof and bound to work on any female in the near vicinity. Except for you, that is.

“You’re late again, Thorin,” you offered him an unimpressed look while reaching for a clean mug to fill it with freshly pressed coffee. No milk and two sugars; you could thank your lucky stars that he wasn’t one of those coffee-snobs who somehow always managed to make complete fools out of themselves by using words they barely knew or understood and subjecting themselves to trendy drinks they’d otherwise find repulsive. No, Thorin was into the classics.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Coach wanted to talk after practice,” he sighed, a formless shadow descending upon his sun-kissed features, making him appear somewhat thoughtful, regretful even.

“Bad news?” you asked as you placed the steaming hot cup of coffee in front of his now sulking frame.

Although football wasn’t necessarily the one thing Thorin was most passionate about, he still enjoyed it, and judging by the looks of him now, something must have gone wrong. It couldn’t have been that bad though, he was too good to be taken off the team or even benched for the season for whatever reasons, so it had to be something else. A healthy rivalry among teammates gone too far? Early practice drills when normally half the town would still be snoozing?

“I’ve been offered varsity captain,” Thorin mumbled while avoiding meeting your questioning gaze.

Varsity captain was a huge deal, the kind that often came with scholarships and Ivy League Schools. While Thorin wasn’t interested in becoming the new poster boy for Princeton, he was in sore need of those scholarships. His foster parents had been good to him, but they lacked the funds to lend Thorin a helping hand in terms of college tuition.

“And that’s bad?” you raised an eyebrow, not understanding why he was acting as if someone had just told him his entire life was over when in fact it was getting brighter by the minute.

Slowly, almost begrudgingly, Thorin met your gaze. He looked very serious and almost mournful, the complete opposite of how a guy should look like after being offered varsity captain.

“Means I’ll have no time for music,” he said at last, his dark eyes watching and waiting for your reaction. Music had been the reason behind you starting to meet at your workplace after school to begin with, naturally Thorin thought you wouldn’t be too thrilled about his latest accomplishment on the football field when he had spent the better half of the first semester trying to talk you into mentoring him, after which you had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to do both things at once. Or do them well, for that matter.

Your heart sank against your will once you realized where he was going with this. You had known better than to ever dream that he’d pick music – you – over football if it ever came down to it. As passionate as Thorin was about music, he found himself pressured to lead the kind of life that was expected of him, and no one expected or even suspected him of being interested in music, let alone humbly dreaming of making a life out of it.

But what broke your heart even more was the devastating realization that he wasn’t even going to try and make it work, hence the guilty gleam in his brown eyes. He was going to sacrifice one for the other, just like any other sane and rational – impulsive and stupid – teenage boy would do, never mind the consequences or whose feelings might get hurt in the process.

“You’re unbelievable,” you breathed out while slowly shaking your head, a part of you still refusing to believe the madness he was knowingly subjecting himself to. His best years wasted and spent on doing something that would leave a bleeding hole in his heart.

“You don’t get it,” Thorin insisted, hoping that he’d be able to make you see things his way, or at least try and make you respect his decision however moronic you might think it to be.

“I’m pretty sure I do. You’re about to throw everything that you worked so hard for away at the slightest inconvenience. Instead of trying and putting effort into both things, you choose the easy way out by ditching one for the other,” you felt you couldn’t control yourself, the hurt had taken you by surprise and just like any smart girl, you knew the best defense was a very good offense.

“And what pisses me off the most is you don’t even love football!”

You hadn’t realized you were shouting until it was already too late. Half the café had heard you and would soon be tweeting about how Thorin Oakenshield, the best quarterback Erebor High had seen in decades, turned out to be blasphemous about the very thing that would secure his golden ticket out of their sorry excuse of a town.

Not only had you embarrassed Thorin – who looked positively taken aback by your sudden surge of fiery temper – in front of half the Pep Squad and other patrons, but you had also humiliated yourself at the place you worked and would probably continue to work long after Thorin had gone away for college. Provided your superiors would see fit to forgive you this little – horrific – incident.

“Look, I’m sorry, really I am,” Thorin tried to take your hand in his, but you moved yours away before he could reach it.

“Sorry? For wasting my time? For having me foolishly believe in you?” you demanded as you felt yourself surrender to another eruption of blind rage, caused by the bitter and foul betrayal of your so-called friend. Thankfully, you could restrain yourself enough to keep your voice down.

“You’ve never really cared about music or making it work. You’ve never cared about me. Only yourself,” your uttered words embodied the heartbreaking realization that made your stomach hurt, a heavy fist gripping your insides and pulling them whichever way was possible. What a little fool you had been after all, falling for his charm and empty platitudes, thinking he had been sincere when you should have known better.

You were worse than a walking and singing cliché.

You had expected there to be ‘I’m sorry’ texts and a couple of missed calls, maybe even a groveling voicemail or two. But there had been none of that. Nothing.

As days went by, you were suddenly faced with the harsh reality of how your life would look like without Thorin Oakenshield. The morning shift no longer rushed by, fueled by your excitement to see your friend – crush – and your afternoons were spent in deafening solitude, no longer filled with the hearty laughs of the dark-haired boy who dreamed of becoming a musician.

His sheet music laid untouched on your desk, devoid of his nearly undecipherable scribbles and remarks. The sweet and thoughtful notes remained a dark ink on white paper, unable to be heard and loved.

Had it really been your right to be this harsh with him, or had it been your wounded pride and heart that had lashed out irrationally without a single regard for the consequences of your petulant outburst. Who were you to tell him how he should or shouldn’t live his life when all you had ever done was mess up your own? How despicable you were for calling him selfish, how rich it must have sounded – the kettle calling the pot black.

With a sigh that spoke volumes of your inner disgust towards yourself, you closed the book and let it slip from your hands and onto your lap. Your eyes drifted to your cellphone, right there on your nightstand where you had left it after your previous debate of whether you should bite the bullet and call Thorin first.

What would you say anyway? I’m sorry for being a bitch? For being such a girl about it – that alone was enough to make you shiver in subtle loathing – when we both know it makes sense for you to see it through as varsity captain. I’m sorry for having thought there could be more between us? None of them sounded right, yet all of them were the truth.

 Were you scared? Ashamed? Worried that you might have lost the best thing to ever dare venture into the dumpster fire that was your life? Devastated because maybe you had already fallen for him and now there was no hope left?

All of the above.

Just as you had decided to take a break from your own personal pity-party and see if the next chapter of your book would manage to restore your will to live, the screen of your cell lit up with a picture of Thorin.

Reassuring yourself that a heart skipping a beat or two was not life threatening, you threw aside your book and reached for the cellphone.

The café was deserted, all the blinds had been lowered and drawn, and the majority of the lights were off save for the one directly above where Thorin was sitting on one of the barstools with his hand-me-down guitar on his lap. His expression was stone hard and unreadable when he motioned with his hand for you to take a seat at the table closest to him.

Confused as you were, but not about to disobey and ruin any luck of moving past your argument, you stiffly led yourself to your ordained seat while your eyes remained peeled on Thorin who held your gaze until he was certain you weren’t going to get up and storm out. Again.

A few nervous heartbeats later, he began to play his guitar, filling the dark and desolate café with a beautiful melody. It wasn’t one you had heard before and you had listened to them all which made you suspect that this one must be new and composed entirely without your help and expert guidance. It sounded lovely even as it bore faint hints of sadness and regret - that could have easily just been wishful thinking on your part.

And then Thorin Oakenshield began to sing. The usual gruff and edginess were replaced by a deep soft velvety voice that got the hairs on your arms rising in awe and a swarm of spring butterflies burst free from their timeless cocoons. His voice was filled with love and longing as he told the story of the girl with the beautiful gift, one she had tried to share with a silly boy who hadn’t been ready for her yet.

Fighting the tears that were beginning to sting your eyes was pointless, how could you resist when Thorin sang about the girl with the gentle soul and burning heart, whose love was a great vast ocean, so deep and wild; whose courage was an endless blue sky for as far as the eye could see; whose temper was a hot and bright blaze, wicked in its untamed ways. And how all the silly boy could do was try his best to keep up and not drown and pray that one day the girl might take pity on him and forgive him his ignorant ways, for despite his less than admirable actions, his heart too was longing and burning for hers.

 Hot tears of gratitude and relief trickled down your cheeks, your heart undeniably touched by his creative apology and thoughtful gesture, one that had ultimately left you speechless and fluttery, and wanting for more.

More songs, more love, more nights like this one and more of Thorin Oakenshield and that angelic voice he possessed.

Liked it? Likes/reblogs/comments are hugely appreciated and encouraged!

Thank you @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for organising the event!

Divider by @firefly-graphics, moodboard created by me

[marxsound]

optimism? (for the new new year)

couple things came to light in december 2020... might be important a 7 TRILLION dollar investment firm told their investors that from now on they would be demanding action on climate change from the companies they invest in. 7 THOUSAND billion dollars is a LOT of clout. archimedes said “if you show me where to place my Lever i could move the world”  them folks got a very long lever-hope they use it well... at the same time the Largest pension fund in the U.S. threatened exxon-mobil management “clean up yor ACT or we will hurt you” that is ownership talking to paid employees. i guess they got very tired of urging and demanding and getting no where couple more things to know... last i knew exxon mobil management*s position was something like “we are Always gonna drill for more oil and Always gonna sell more oil and we will continue to pay folks to lie about climate- for ever and ever” ( btw no one at the upper levels of finance thinks that*s gonna work) this post is too Damn long already-sorry.... management is NOT programmed to think long term. they think about the next bonus cycle and the next private school tuition increase and country club dues and WHEN does the new Sexier private jet come out?.... it seems that capitalists might be thinking that saving the human biosphere might be good for their long-term interests... can they use their Lever to move the management World in the right direction? don*t u wish i would shut up and post some more “difficult” music? cheers

[willow-lane]

I saw [WILLOW LANE] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [MADELYN CLINE]. They are a [TWENTY-THREE] year old [WAITRESS] who’s been in NYC for [A YEAR] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [SPONTANEOUS AND FREE SPIRITED] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [NON-COMMITTAL AND SELF-INDULGENT]. [OUT OF THE BLUE BY KATIE PRUITT] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. / @villagestart​

Hello everyone! I’m Ella and I’m super excited to be part of this roleplay and introduce Willow to all of you, she’s a new muse but she’s based on an old muse of mine so I think I have her figured out or mostly lol. I’d love to plot with all of you, so please like this or hmu. If you want my discord, I’d be happy to give it to you, just ask :D

basics

NAME: ava willow lane

NICKNAME: will, lolo, pillow

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: burlington, vermont

DATE OF BIRTH: september 28, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: waitress

NEIGHBORHOOD: brooklyn

background

Burlington was a dream within a dream, the station next to heaven. A town in love with itself and whose residents gloated about the wooded land, creased by hills, and threaded by streams. 

The Lanes were living the typical American dream: the big house with the white picket fence, a large backyard and two perfect children. It was dreamlike.

Their kids could count themselves lucky and Willow Lane certainly did for most of her life. As the youngest daughter of a successful surgeon and a renowned psychotherapist who taught at the University of Vermont, she was taught that receiving an education was the only way to get ahead in life.

Her parents made sure to set their kids to success and while most of the kids from her street were out there playing, she was holed up in her room, reading the stacks of encyclopedia books her parents bought me for her birthday. 

As a young child, Willow was filled with a sense of wonder, and encouraged by her curious personality she wanted to learn everything.

By the time she was in the sixth grade, she was smarter than most of the kids in her class, still her parents reminded her every day that she must outrank them all. Her parents took pride in her achievements. They were quick to boast about it in public, but they remained strict in private. Anything less than gold didn’t deserve a place on the wall.

Her afternoons were always full. Whether it was ballet class, french lessons, piano lessons or soccer practice. She had no time for herself.

Then high school started and by then she was overworked. Tired of chasing perfection and only being met with a “try harder”. 

TW: DRUGS, ADDICTION, VOMIT MENTION, PANIC ATTACK: While she was still number one at her school, it was taking everything in her to keep it that way. Her parents didn’t know about those panic attacks she suffered at night or how she threw up before any competition. To them, she was handling well and she was very good at pretending but she also had a little secret. In her sophomore year, she was introduced to Adderall and she was quickly hooked. END OF TW

When she got accepted into a prestigious university, her parents didn’t hesitate to brag about how their kid would attend an Ivy League but Willow was mortified. 

Back in Burlington, she was the biggest fish in the sea but at Princeton there were students who were better and shone brighter than her. 

Maybe it was because she was suddenly cast into a whole new world that was so different from the one she grew up in. Maybe it was because she had harbored a bit of resentment towards her parents for her wasted youth. Whatever it was, by the end of her freshman year, university had swallowed her up. 

TW ALCOHOL, DRUGS, DEPRESSION She got into a bad crowd, drank herself into oblivion, partied harder than anyone, and developed a penchant for bad boys who were much older than her. All this while trying to maintain a perfect GPA. Thanks to her magic pill, she was able to function and not feel guilty about not being as perfect as her parents wanted her to be. After all, she was only trying to recover the freedom that they took from her. 

But this coping mechanism only turned to worse. The more she tried to drown her feelings in alcohol, the harder it came to bite her in the ass. It was clear as water: Willow Lane, picture perfect daughter, was depressed and had been for a while, and now it had caught up to her. 

She was fighting a battle she was slowly losing. Willow was in a constant state of helplessness, staring into the void, and completely unable to pull herself out of it. If it hadn’t been for the upbringing she had, she would have been completely fine with self-destruct. END OF TW

The summer after her freshman year, she came back home and decided to have a talk with her parents. Her parents sat across the table, and they were not celebrating the end of a successful first semester, instead, they were fuming with betrayal. 

Willow told them that she had dropped most of her classes and she explained to them how she was exhausted beyond repair. They were displeased, so disappointed that looking at them was painful. For the first time in their life, their perfect daughter had failed them.

By the end of the evening, her father was livid. Threatened her that if she didn’t take more classes and got excellent grades he would stop paying her tuition. That’s when it hit her. To her parents, she was nothing but an object, an accomplishment to brag about to her friends. That was not love, that was selfish and a wake up call.

She packed up her stuff that evening, went back to Princeton and emptied her dorm as well as she dropped out completely. 

Freedom at last. With only a few bucks in her account, she bought a random bus ticket that took her to Montreal, Canada where she stayed for a couple of weeks, while working as a waitress before she moved to a new location. For the past three years, Willow has been living off a backpack. 

She moved to New York a year ago, but she comes and goes. Whenever she gets bored or too attached to someone she escapes. 

She’s been clean for three years when it comes to Adderall, although she still drinks but only socially.

personality

Despite her strict upbringing, Willow is a free-spirit! She’s always looking for a new adventure and she wants to live her life to the fullest, she doesn’t care about rules or schedules. She lives a pretty hedonistic lifestyle, always chasing a high in life and sometimes that makes her take some reckless decisions. A naturally loving person, Willow is always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or offer to wipe off your tears, however, she does struggle with connections. If she feels a deep connection with someone she runs away as she believes that being attached to someone will tie her up to one place and as we know, Willow lives a pretty nomad life. She keeps coming back to New York because she loves the vibe but when she gets bored or overwhelmed she leaves without warning. As loving as she is, she can also be ruthless and cold, especially when feeling vulnerable. She has a sharp tongue and it’s not afraid to hurt some feelings if that means shattering the pristine image some people have of her.

headcanons

She has a rib cage tattoo that reads “Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.” It’s a quote from Sylvia Plath.

Speaks French fluently and sometimes she likes to pretend she’s a lost French tourist just for fun.

Volunteers at the animal shelter. Because she doesn’t have a set home, she can’t have a pet but she loves animals.

Never has enough battery on her phone and sometimes she sings in the subway to earn some coins because she tends to forget her wallet.

Really good friends with the homeless woman who lives down her street, she brings her food from the restaurant.

Keeps many scrapbooks from the places she’s been.

Sometimes she goes to music stores and plays the piano, one of the few activities she enjoyed as a child.

Loves reading and whenever she’s not getting in trouble or working, she’s at the library.

Wears too many rings, so don’t try to mug her.

connections

Older brother: Willow has an older brother who followed her parents’ plan. He graduated college and now has a very important job. Willow hasn’t spoken to him in three years, even if he’s tried to contact her. She just doesn’t want any ties to her old life, including her family.

“Best Friend”: I put it between quotations because she doesn’t stay in one place long enough to actually form long lasting friendships but this person is the closest to that. She adores them and actually sends them a postcard when she leaves.

Partner in crime: As stated, Willow is pretty reckless and she does a lot of stupid shit but she’s always seeking for someone to be her partner in crime and just go crazy with them.

Co-workers/Clients: She works as a waitress at a restaurant (if your character has a restaurant let me know, bc idk where she would work). 

Neighbor: She lives in a small apartment in Brooklyn with two other roommates, it’s not ideal but it’s what she has.

College friends/hook ups: Oh during her college year, she was a party girl and she made a lot of “friends” (She attended Princeton btw) and also hooked up with a lot of people (f/m/nb), most of them were older than her.

Flirtationship: She is a natural flirt and she doesn’t even try to hide it.

Unrequited: Maybe your character has a crush on her (and depending on chemistry maybe she does as well but since she moves often she tries to ignore it). It’s angsty, it’s fun, give it to me. (f/m/nb)

Hook ups: Y’all know the drill

Bad tinder date: Willow thought it would be fun to go on a tinder date and she proposed some crazy scheme and they both had to spend the night in a jail cell.

Roommates: She lives in Brooklyn with two more roommates.

[smartguyreviewed]

2x6 - Trial and Error

Original air date: Oct 15, 1997

Okay, so we begin this infuriating episode with Floyd coming home and calling out for his biological children. None of them are home. Except for Mo. Mo broke into the house. No, seriously. He broke into the house and started eating somebody’s leftovers. Now in any other case, this would warrant a passionate ass whooping and a call to the parents of this child because what the fuck are you doing so wrong to have your son breaking into houses and not stealing anything except for food? However, this is sitcom world and Floyd just seems more annoyed than anything since Mo is always there anyway.

Mo tells Floyd he needs to be more careful about locking the windows. So linebacker ass Mo really needed to eat and somehow oozed through a window just to get food? Ok, I take back what I said about him needing his ass kicked. Mo is clearly malnourished even though he’s huge. His parents must be poor and therefore can’t afford to feed him. Holy shit was that dark. Moving on. 

Food and TJ’s brain are the reasons for his crime. His parents are going to kill him if he brings home another D. This is really helping me build a theory that Mo’s parents are abusive, so let’s assume his parents are literal this time about the kill thing. Floyd then realizes that Mo’s punishment would equal him not being over again to eat up their food and casually break in so he tells Mo that TJ joined the Marines. Nice, Floyd.

Just then, the rest of Floyd’s flock comes in babbling about who got what part in a play. TJ is naturally upset because he wanted a bigger role, still not getting used to the idea that he’s a 10 year old and unless he’s playing the role of a character with dwarfism, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have a huge part. TJ storms off in a huff. Typical TJ things.

The next day, everyone is atwitter over a test from their more over it than Lisa Simpson teacher. This man wants all of his students to fail. He hates his students. He’s a teacher and yet he hates teaching. Maybe this is the wrong profession for you, bruh? And it’s evident his ‘over it’ level is on a million from the way he comes in and tells his class to “get ready to hate me.” The deadpan, dry delivery was funny though. 

His first task is to give his students an assignment so hard that even he doesn’t know all the answers. Um, why? If you don’t know the answers, how are you gonna grade the tests? Isn’t this just creating more work for you, someone who already hates his job? Why the fuck does Piedmont hire such bad teachers and faculty, dammit?

Even TJ is intimidated by this test! Mo asks Mr. Bringleman why stuff from another chapter he previously said wouldn’t be on the test is on the test. He simply says he lied. This man is evil. I hated teachers who did that bitch ass shit. Yes, I only studied for what you said was going to be on the test because I have other classes too, ya know. I’m a teenager, not a machine!

I’m just gonna call him Mr. B for the rest of this review because fuck this most likely racist white man. His ass was listening to the boys talking about how hard the test was and then Mo says he wishes he could do to Mr. B what he does to all of them. Mr. B asks if he’s threatening him and Mo stammers. Then Mr. B insults his intelligence by asking if he ever has a complete thought. Before he can even fix his mouth to call him the N word, not Linda Ellerbee shows up to see what’s going on. Oh yeah, and she’s the new principal. She’s the third one so far and this is only the first half of the second season.

Anyways, she needs someone to cover a class and outright forces him to do it. Ha-ha. When the boys laugh at him, Mr. B says he’s going to grade Mo’s test. Nice, I just love seeing teachers bully students.

At the play rehearsal, TJ is still campaigning for a lead role. Mackey has to be the one to humble him, asking for duct tape. Marcus’s play related arc in this episode is pursuing acting seriously in case music doesn’t work out. His part has no lines so he’s trying to act with his face. He can just feel the SAG membership card in his hands.

Just then, Yvette bursts in wearing a Prince-inspired outfit and lets everyone know there was a fire in the chem lab. Dun du--pause. Why the fuck is she telling everyone? Wouldn’t they have had a fire drill? Are there no fire alarms in this blasted school? How the fuck did nobody know about it or smell smoke and why is Yvette bursting in like the town crier in this Purple Rain ass outfit???

All the students are happy until Linda Ellerbee hands Mo his charred playbook and asks him to come into her office. Dun dun dun. Later we find out that Mo was expelled. Because he is an abused child who only feels safe at the Hendersons, Mo has once again broke into their house and begun working out in their garage. Floyd is over it.

TJ comes home and talks to Mo. He is sad to learn that nobody thinks he’s innocent but says that TJ has to believe him because he has the “wide-eyed innocence of a child.” He follows this up with shitty examples of kids trusting adults who end up being assholes. Once they finally get on a good example, TJ is able to see that Mo is innocent and decides to help Mo get back into school.

The next day, TJ is in the principal’s office waiting for Linda Ellerbee. She has mice in her office because Piedmont is the worst public school ever and is resorting to playing the Spice Girls to get them out. Is that supposed to be a diss to the Spice Girls? Fuck anyone who disses the Spice Girls.

Sis is not budging when it comes to letting Mo back in the school. Sounds like a job for TJ’s cuteness and persistence! He gets her to agree to a mock trial where Mo would have to come back to the school. I...whatever. Order in the courtroom!

TJ is Mo’s defense. The opposinjg side calls Marcus to the stand so we already know this will end in disaster. It takes less than a minute for Marcus to admit that Mo threatened Mr. B. Ugh! Stupid Marcus. But he doesn’t even do the worst on the stand. Mo actually manages to fuck it all up! Marcus and TJ are trying to paint Mo out to be, what the kids today would call it, a “punk ass bitch.” Rather than play along and accept it, dumb ass Mo puts his stupid, fragile masculinity ahead of his chance to get back into school and says that he follows through on all threats. Once he realizes his gaffe, he immediately sits his ass down. Yvette is annoyed.

Vice principal Millitch, who will later replace Linda Ellerbee in one of the only sensical things I’ve seen regarding Piedmont, qualifies that Mo’s playbook was found at the scene next to Mr. B’s burnt gradebook. It was nice knowing ya, Mo. We know how the legal system works.

So then the loser teacher gets on the stand and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t intentionally make his students suffer by giving them ridiculously hard tests and lying about what’s even going to be on the test. To him, Mo is just a stupid, violent nigger so of course he’d want to commit a crime instead of studying harder. And then he lays it on thicker by insulting his intelligence again, explaining what the word combust means in the most smug ass, irritating way. It’s fucked up upon re-watch but at least it’s super realistic how predominately black public schools get racist white teachers often. They’re usually there for the tuition reimbursement.

TJ is now realizing that he may not be able to help Mo out of this jam. While eating dinner, Yvette comes in and apologizes for her lateness, saying the trial is over and now the school can continue with the play rehearsals. She tells an adamant TJ that Mr. B, also assuming the trial’s conclusion, was chain smoking cigarettes and humming “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Floyd is appalled at the latter. TJ’s gears begin shifting. Side note but doesn’t Mr. B just look like a miserable ass teacher who smokes in the classroom?

TJ and Mo break into the school. Geez, so much trespassing in this episode! Mo isn’t even worried about being caught because what are they gonna do, “expel him from college?” Slapstick ensues while TJ collects samples from the gradebook. Mo, on the other hand, is battling a mouse trap. I was super high when I watched this last night but this scene had me in stitches. Omar Gooding is really good with physical comedy. Look, even TJ gets stuck to him when they’re leaving! Priceless!

At court the next morning, TJ calls Mr. B to the stand. He brilliantly examines him and exposes him for smoking in the classroom, which was the actual cause for the fire. This man is fucking evil! He was actually about to get away with very possibly ruining a teenager’s life until a fucking 10 year old stepped in and dug deeper. He could have seriously gotten him disowned by his parents, making him homeless, forcing him to turn to the streets for survival. All because he’s an asshole and didn’t have the heart to own up to what he did. Hell, it’s fucking Piedmont! I’m sure they would have kept him!

Seeing as he just gets sent to Linda’s office, he’s most likely getting a slap on the wrist and paid vacation leave. Oh well. Also frustratingly realistic. At least Mo isn’t expelled anymore. Too bad Mo’s unwashed hands are still sticky when he shakes the principal’s hand and the joke continues.

At the end, Marcus gets bumped up to the illustrious Juror #2. Gotta love a true thespian! Case dismissed. Bring out the dancing lobsters.

Things I noticed:

- Stinky Steve is Mr. B’s defense.

- Piedmont has no respect for their students’ time. The mock trial began at 8am. Assuming that their school day begins at 9am, I bet the play participants probably hate TJ for forcing them to get up an hour earlier than normal, on top of having to do the play after school.

[rebelcap]

We are not just friends — Part 15

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.  

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually) 

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally. 

Series masterlist

She was already drunk but still managed to get her shit together witch she was kind of surprised too.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was going to come with her and I already give her a piece of my mind because he's being an asshole," Amanda said as Sofia was downing her six beer.

"Whatever Mandy, he can't do whatever" She shrugged and then shrugged again. "She's fucking gorgeous, did you see her?"

"She's another generic brunette white girl, you're gorgeous," Amanda said and Sofia smile.

"Thanks, I'm in need of a little ego boost lately,"

"It wasn't an ego boost, just stating the facts girl." Amanda laughed and give her a strong hug. "I love you, idiot."

"Me too, darling." She bit her lip, trying not to cry. "You ready to cut that damn cake?"

"Oh my fucking God yes. Also, I'm seeing your dress, it's that—

"I just like pink, Mandy," She laughed. "Besides it's a color, you know I'm not very into gender norms."

"Yeah, tell that to my whole ass catholic family," Amanda laughed and Sofia joined her.

~~

Sofía went in the little stage, winking at the girl that was singing a few tunes and she gave her the microphone.

"Hello, hola, everyone," She said awkwardly and everyone on the floor looked at her and a few of them starting whistle at her. "Yeah, yeah. I know," She pointed at herself and everyone laughed. "This isn't my time to shine, yet but everyone knows our dear Amanda is pregnant with my Godchild, she didn't ask me but I already know,"

"Of course you know!" Amanda shouted and Sofia pointed at her.

"And we are officially opening bets, Amanda's family already know the drill, let's explain all the white people over there," She pointed at Luke's family making them laugh. "Basically, the lowest bet starts at 20 bucks and you don't win nothing more than bragging rights for the rest of your life. All the money it's going to the kid college tuition."

The crowd cheered and someone shouted. "What about a date with you!?" and some dudes cheered. It was Hernando, one of Mandy's tíos.

"I prefer to date your wife, tío. Ya, preocúpese por el sobrino," She said and everyone laughs. "So, bets. Please, everyone put money on the jar and write your name and preferred gender and we are also accepting Venmo, because of technology." Sofia said pointing out at the little table that they set up, where people could write their bets. "don't be cheap I know you'll get money," They laughed again. "Amanda, please come over here so people can see you and guess," She called her friend and Amanda walked up to the stage and grabbed the microphone.

"While you all place bets, imma be watching you!" Amanda shouted as they started placing bets. Sofia was policing and busting everyone chops when they put little money, it was all on good light.

~~~

Of course, he couldn't stop looking at her, he was more invested to just staring at Sofia from afar than the girl he was with. It wasn't fair for her and he should feel bad, but he didn't.

Chris wanted to approach her, wanted to just talk with her more than anything after what Mandy had told him. He obviously was still into her, those months apart just make him miss her, longing for her. Feelings were still raw, he just needed her on his life all the time. He's trying to stop those feelings, he knows it's not healthy—he doesn't want one of those guys that can't get over their exes. He never was but he never loved someone as he loved her. He was in love before but the intensity it's nothing compared what he feels for her.

It was absolutely crazy.

"You could at least tone it down a bit," Scott elbow him and Chris sighed deeply and looked at him.

"Should I talk with her?"

"I don't know, should you?"

"I'm asking you, because my brain it's just noise and her," He said downing a fifth of whiskey in one go.

"You think it's the right time?"

"Is there a right time to talk to her? my body fucking hurts, man." Chris said and leave the glass on the little table. "It's fucking crazy, I've never felt this way before."

"I don't know what to tell you, Chris." Scott sighed, he didn't want to be a mediator. Obviously, his brother is always a priority as well his family but he's a big boy, he's almost forty, and he should know how to navigate this.

And he also cared a lot about that girl in pink, that had been maintaining her distance and being all adult about he pulling the shit he was pulling.

That didn't mean that Sofia wasn't discreetly looking at him and the girl he came with actually dancing with one of Luke's friends, obviously, she didn't give a fuck about whatever Chris was doing.

"I wish I was like her," She pointed out. "She doesn't give a fuck," Sofia laughed and looked at Mandy.

"Stop comparing, I know what are you doing."

"I'm trying, okay, okay," She sighed and grabbed her drink again. "I'm getting sober, I can't be sober."

"Let's cut my baby's cake and you can get fucked up and dance with my cousin." and looked at her phone and made a face. "Damn Chris, he isn't cheap."

"What?"

"He just Venmo ten k for my kid, you know what bless his heart, he ain't that bad," Amanda said smiling and Sofia laughed.

"You're an idiot," She shakes her head and pushed her carefully towards the stage. "go and cut the cake,"

So the cake got cut, everyone cried and Amanda's father was the most excited jumping up from his seat when it was revealed that it was a boy.

Luke was over the moon, so was Amanda because she wanted to have a little boy, men. This was so right now, so right.

Sofia sigh and walked out for a moment, she needed some air after all that. Just to get her shit together and keep going because the party just started.

She lights up a cigarette, nasty habit that she was into lately and leans on the wall, listening to the music and moving her hips lightly to keep herself warm.

"Hey," She heard behind her and shut her eyes, feeling her heart jumping out of her chest.

~~~~~

I can't even,

Tag list:

@smediumsmeatbae

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

@lovepeacefood

@thegirlwithpaperheart

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Heart to Heart

Missing scene from the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair. My MC comforts Sofia after being publicly embarrassed by her father. I hated that scene, and I hate that Sofia is such a one dimensional character. 

Background MC (Luna Stafford) x Sam Dalton, but only if you tilt your head and squint.

Tags: @choices-lurker @paulfwesley @zodiacsign1 @thatysn @ermidc @badchoicesposts @senseofduties @canknot @drakewalker04

~v~

Luna can’t enjoy the fact that she’s drinking her salary in fancy champagne, enjoying a rooftop dinner with some of the richest people in the tri-state area. Any other day, this would be a dream come true, but in reality, she’s stuck in a nightmare.

For the past two hours, they’ve been forced to listen to Paolo make snide remarks on everything under the sun from her nannying skills to Sofia’s business acumen. Luna is not a fan of Paolo Russo. He seems like a miserable, stuffy old man whose only joy in life comes from whining and looking down on other people.

She casts a quick glance at Sam. The always poised and out together man looks as bored as she feels. His elbows are on the table, a finger lazily tracing the rim of his champagne flute. Gone are the manners and the fine dining etiquette that’s been drilled into him since infancy.

He looks up, sneaking a glance at her. An easy grin adorns his features as they lock eyes, and she quickly looks away, heat blooming on the apples of her cheeks. It’s rare that Sam is so unapologetic in his flirting with her, especially in the presence of his kids. 

The sound of a knife hitting the stem of a champagne flute is all it takes to pull Luna out of her thoughts. Paolo is standing at the head of the table, waiting on everyone to watch him with rapt attention.

He clears his throat obnoxiously, “Ahem. Thank you all for coming to congratulate my beautiful daughter and her future husband on their upcoming nuptials.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia sit up a bit straighter, eagerly awaiting the praise she’s sure her father is going to heap onto her.

“Sofia has been run ragged at Russo Industries for far too long,” Paolo continues. “Now she can finally fulfill her purpose to become a wife and mother. After all, a woman in a position of power in the business world is like an unstable explosive, especially around that time of the month.” The older man turns toward Sam, hoping to get a co-sign on his speech. “Right, Sam?”

Luna clenches her fist tightly underneath the table. She can’t believe the unmitigated fall that his man has. “Did he really just say that?”

Sam turns to her with a mournful expression. “Unfortunately.”

Luna isn’t the only one at the table embarrassed by Paolo’s speech. Sam’s mother Vivian leans over to her husband, whispering harshly. “Mason honey, I thought you talked to him about this.”

“I tried, but you know how it goes with Paolo.”

Luna balks at the scene unfolding in front of her. So they all just let Paolo get away with talking like this? It’s just talk, that they all chalk up to Paolo just being Paolo?

Paolo, the arrogant man, is far too caught up in his own spiel to notice that they’re all openly horrified. He just keeps going. “...A family disarms the bomb! That’s why it’s called a biological clock.”

Luna wants to scream. She wants to hit something. She wants to do anything else but listen to this man continue on with his horribly misinformed and misogynistic speech.

“Finally we’re getting to the good stuff.”

“I predict a Sofia meltdown in three...two…”

The countdown doesn’t have to finish as Sofia all but slams her champagne flute down on the table. The noise startles Luna and she flinches slightly.

“I’ve heard this speech before. I don’t need to hear it again.”

Sofia scrambles, attempting to gather her belongings. Luna notices that her hands are slightly trembling and her eyes are glossy, tears threatening to spill.

Before she can stop herself, she’s opening her mouth, “Actually Paolo, men and women have the same brains. Neurologists have been searching for differences for years, but nothing ever turns up. And this society makes girls lesser than men, which is a gross assumption that’s pushed by men like you.”

The admonishment causes a faint blush to appear at Paolo’s neck. “And what does that have to do with my daughter’s role at Russo Industries?”

Luna shrugs. “Even I can tell she would make a great CEO. In fact, I bet you’ve already seen gains under her management.”

“My daughter’s abilities aren’t in question. It’s a matter of right and wrong. Women belong at home. It’s why you became a nanny, right?”

“Paolo, you are way out of line,” Sam says, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically gruff tone. “I won’t have you speaking to Luna like that.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia rush off, heading back into the country club, not sticking around for any more of the conversation.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Luna says. The last thing she wants to do is cause a confrontation. It’d raise too many questions. Why is Sam so quick to defend the nanny and not his own fiancée? “This conversation is done anyway.”

Pushing her seat back, Luna throws her napkin on the table and gets up, leaving behind an awkwardly silent dinner party.

Sofia is a very fast walker, but Luna manages to keep a decent pace behind her, her platinum blonde hair making her an easy target to follow. The older woman heads to the restroom, angrily pushing open the door. Luna weaves through patrons of the club and various waiters carrying trays until she reaches the bathroom as well.

Luna is instantly swept up in just how fancy this restroom is. The lighting is dim, it smells like eucalyptus and mint, there’s soft music playing, and she’s pretty sure the faucets are made of real gold.

It isn’t until she hears a sniffle coming from one of the stalls that she is reminded of the reason she entered the restroom in the first place. Taking a peek under the stall, she sees Sofia’s signature Louboutin heels.

“Sofia, I know you’re in there.”

“Go away,” Sofia orders. Her tone doesn’t have its usual bite or chill. Luna frowns at how small she sounds. “I don’t need you here to coddle me.”

“I can’t do that. My conscience won’t let me leave a sad woman crying in the restroom alone.”

“I’m not crying!”

“Sure you’re not. But my point remains, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

A minute ticks by and Luna is met with silence. Sofia is just as stubborn as she anticipated, maybe even more so.

She leans against the marble countertop, careful to not lean against any wet spots. “If anyone knows how you feel, it would be me.”

More silence.

“I’m a black woman in STEM,” Luna continues, not waiting for a response. “I don’t know what it’s like in the business world, but if I got a dime for every time a man, and sometimes other women, told me to not pursue chemistry, I’d probably be able to afford your shoes.”

“Really?”

Luna smiles to herself. Sofia actually responded to her! She’s making progress! “Really. I was told to focus on nursing or a social science, like sociology or anthropology by multiple teachers, classmates and counselors. Not saying there’s anything wrong with those fields, I think they’re great, but that wasn’t the path for me. I’ve always loved chemistry. I’ve had the periodic table memorized since I was in 3rd grade. Thankfully I have parents that support my passion, because everyone isn’t so lucky.”

Sofia scoffs. “Got that right. I got my BA from Yale, I graduated summa cum laude and I went to Wharton for grad school, but let my dad tell it, I simply wasted 6 years and half a million dollars in tuition costs. Those degrees mean nothing to him because he’s the stereotypical, conservative and traditional Italian man. I’m not the correct sex or gender for him. In a perfect world, I’d be the perfect song but instead, I’m his fussy daughter. I’m not supposed to do anything other than get pregnant and cook, and how dare I want anything else out of life.”

“I say this with the utmost respect, but your father is a sexist jerk,” Luna deadpans. “You can yell at me for saying it, but I don’t regret it. And I’m shocked Russo Industries is still standing because I can only imagine the HR complaints and harassment lawsuits against your father over the years.”

“There’s no need to apologize because it’s the truth. My father doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect women at all. My mother was never allowed to have an opinion, and mine isn’t all that valued either.”

“I thought taking the initiative and getting engaged to Sam would make him respect me,” Sofia adds. “I wanted to do this in order to prove to him that I’m worthy. I thought he’d see that I’m a go-getter, and I’m ambitious, and I want the Russo family to thrive, but he doesn’t care about the business aspect of the merger like I do. He’s just glad I found a rich husband.”

Another bout of silence falls between the two women, but this time it’s not as awkward as before. it’s almost peaceful. Luna still hears the occasional sniffle, but she doesn’t call any attention to it. Crying is too vulnerable for Sofia to be open about.

“Besides, I don’t know if things will even pan out the way I want them to,” Sofia says. “The boys aren’t that fond of me, and Sam is just so...cold. I’m trying to make this a decent transition, and I’m trying to find out where I fit in that family dynamic, but it’s not working. He didn’t want me around for his birthday, he doesn’t respect my opinion on how to raise Mickey and Mason. More times than not, it feels like he’s counting down the minutes until he has to be in my presence anymore.” The stall door opens up and Sofia steps out. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red and raw. Luna averts her gaze quickly, not wanting to draw too much attention to it.

“I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore. I’m exhausted, and I’m trying to sustain a relationship all by myself. Sam can barely sustain a conversation with me, and my dad isn’t impressed, so what’s the point? What am I doing this all for?”

Luna frowns. Sofia has always seemed so...bold and intimidating, like nothing ever rattled her. But looking underneath the perfectly put together surface, Sofia is just a woman trying to fight and claw for every inch of success, despite the lack of a support system.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luna says. “I think you’re smart, and I think you’d make an excellent CEO of Russo Industries. And I don’t think you need Sam at your side to do so.”

That shocks Sofia. Her eyebrows shoot up past her hairline at the compliment. “You really think so? You have that much faith in me?”

Luna doesn’t know if she’s giving Sofia this advice because she truly believes in it, or if a selfish part of her wants the other woman to leave Sam alone, so they can finally be together. Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought, full of guilt. Does this count as manipulation?

She swallows thickly, pushing down whatever guilt is trying to bubble to the surface and nods. “I do. You don’t need a man to be successful and fulfilled. You don’t need your dad’s approval. And you don’t need to feed into the bullshit cycle of misogyny that your dad perpetuates.”

Sofia walks over to the sink and turns the faucet. After she splashes cool water on her face, she turns back to Luna. “Thank you, I guess. No one has ever talked to my dad the way you did, especially not in defense of me. And thank you for coming in here.”

“You’re welcome. Even the rich and powerful Sofia Russos of the world need 5 minutes to vent and cry.”

“Never mention to anyone that you’ve seen me like this,” Sofia orders sharply. No one, especially people in New York high society, can know that the ice queen herself shows emotion. 

“What happens in the ladies’ room, stays in the ladies’ room. Scout’s honor.”

“Good.” Sofia sighs and straightens herself up. Luna watches the cool facade slip back into place as Sofia fixes her makeup and runs a brush through her hair. Sofia is back to being the poised, elegant woman everyone knows.

Once she’s done, she straightens out her clothes and heads to the door. Hesitating, Sofia lingers by the door. She turns back to Luna, her eyes softer than the younger woman has ever seen them. “You know what? Maybe I misjudged you. You aren’t as bad as I originally thought.”

A soft smile tugs on the corner of Luna’s mouth. “That’s high praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

Without another word, Sofia sweeps out of the restroom, leaving Luna all alone, the sound of her heels clicking against the floors now an echo. With the presence of the other woman no longer stifling her, Luna lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in.

She didn’t know what to expect coming in here to comfort Sofia, but now everything feels much more complicated.

[purplesurveys]

637

Random questions about your significant other. Yay I love these

What's their name? Y’all know the drill. Her name is Gabie. :) Are you dating, engaged, or married? We’re dating, because it’s too early to be getting into the other two just yet. How old are they? She’s 21. How long have you been together? It’ll be our fourth anniversary next month, but before that we also dated for eight months. When and how did you meet? It was in Grade 7, my friend and her friend were friends, so they introduced us to each other. We were a group of four friends for a while, but Gab and I ended up being the closest so we branched out. I took a liking to her because she was the only one in our batch who seemed to know about the fangirling culture, and I fucked with that lmao. Were you friends before you started dating? Yeah, super. We were each other’s best friends for a couple of years. She always says I’m one of the few people who understood her weirdness and quirks and rode along with it, and I can say the same for her with my own quirks. That really helped us become more close with each other.

- Beyond the basics - What did they have for dinner yesterday? We didn’t really have dinner. I know she had Chowking late in the afternoon, and then she met up with me in the evening and we had drinks out with friends. Sam’s uncle covered the food so we had grilled liempo, spicy hotdog, and isaw which technically was our pulutan, but I guess it counts as dinner too. What car do they drive? Her cars change all the time because of her dad’s business, but right now she alternates between a BMW (not sure which model) and a Toyota Vios. Where would they love to travel to the most? I don’t know, she hasn’t really expressed this with me. What is their favorite dog breed? She loves all dogs but I’m pretty sure her favorite breed is golden retriever. Are they more of a dog person or a cat person? She’s definitely more of a dog person, but she recently realized that she loooooves cats and that she’s a cat person as well. What do they do for a living? She doesn’t have a full-time job but I know she used to work at her dad’s company doing publicity materials for their social media, photography, working on Photoshop, etc. Not sure if she’s still doing the gig now since I don’t hear much of it from her these days. Have they ever worked two or more jobs at once? She juggled two executive positions in her two orgs a year ago, if that counts. What's their hair style/color? She used to have blonde tips but she chopped them off a few months ago, so now she’s back to just having her normal, wavy, black hair.   Name some of their favorite foods. Chicken pesto pasta, potato chips, and anything her dad cooks? I’m not sure about that last one, but generally I never trust her with having ‘favorites’ because hers changes every single day. What would they consider to be their greatest accomplishment? I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that it was when she scored a 100% scholarship at her present university. The tuition there per year is around P200K but thanks to her hard work and good grades her parents have never had to pay a single cent for her studies. How many cousins do they have? I know she has... a lot but they’re either too old (almost like her aunts and uncles) or live in the States. Her mom is the youngest among her siblings and all of them were already pretty grown-up when she came around; and her dad’s siblings live in the States, hence most of her cousins living there as well. Where did they go to elementary/primary school? She went to the same school I did. We met in Grade 7, or I think what you guys refer to as ~middle school. What's their highest level of education? We’re both in university but graduating this year. How many times have they moved? I’m only aware of the one time she moved, and I’ve also already been to that previous house. If there were any other periods that they moved houses, she hasn’t told me about them. (If married/living together) How many times have you two moved together? Do they have a celebrity look-a-like? She told me that her grandmother used to tell her she looked like Brooke Shields when Brooke was younger, but that was many years ago. Nowadays I hype her up cos she shares a resemblance with Gal Gadot, heh. Do they talk in their sleep? Sometimes. Usually it comes out as gibberish mumbles, but there are times she’d say actual words so for almost four years, I’ve kept a list of all the stuff she’ll say in her sleep. Some of the funnier/more interesting entries include “hot math,” “my knees are still stuck,” “I’m going to shate,” and simply “mutts.”

Have they ever had braces? Yes. We started wearing braces at around the same time but she had to keep hers on longer than I did. What size shoe do they wear? Her feet can fit in either a size 5 or 6. Do they have a good relationship with their parents? Yes. I’ll sometimes confide in her about how lucky she is and about how I wish we had the same set of parents, especially whenever I’m upset with mine. Her parents were very busy with work when she was younger so she wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with them then, but as time passed they were able to catch up and now she has a healthy relationship with both. At what age did they get their drivers license? 18. What was their first car? She changes her car every few months so she’s gone through A LOT and it’ll be hard for me to remember her first...but I’m gonna take a wild-ass guess and say her first was either like a blue-green Toyota Corolla or something similar, or a red Honda CRV. What were they wearing the last time you saw them? Plain gray t-shirt and black jeans. What was their first word? No clue. We’ve never talked about this. Are any of their grandparents still living? She has one living grandmother. What sort of books do they like to read? She’ll read anything I think, but right now she’s into coming-of-age stuff because of the last book she read. What was the last book they read, or are currently reading? ^ That. HAHAHA she didn’t tell me the title or delve too much into the book with me, but yeah it was coming-of-age and she ended up loving it. Do they wear a watch? Sometimes. Most of the time she doesn’t. Do they smoke? Yes. For a long time, I told her not to just cos I found it disgusting, but eventually I realized I can’t prohibit her from doing what she wants to do the whole time we’re together; so I slowly came to terms with her smoking so I just let her. I don’t know if it’ll be a habit of hers but I do know she does it socially. Do they drink? Yes. Are they more introverted or more extroverted? Definitely an extrovert; she can jive with anybody. What was their last reason for going to a doctor? She had a bad asthma attack so she needed to have an IV thing pricked on her for a few hours. What are some of their pet peeves? She HATES moochers, like those who ask for free stuff all the time hahaha I know this because we have a friend who shamelessly does this. She also dislikes freeloaders, laziness, and being scolded especially for something that isn’t her fault. What are some of their fears? On the shallow side, I know she’s scared of horror movies, driving at night, and having to kill cockroaches. But she’s generally a deep person ehhffdrjfld and I know that more than anything, she’s terrified of failing and of the future. What are some of their bad habits? She’s super forgetful but I think it’s endearing. Hmmm she overworks herself a lot, and overthinks as well. What are some of their talents? She’s amazing at writing, creating videos, shooting short films, doing tricks on the balisong, acting, and fixing everything I’ve ever broken haha. What's their favorite amusement park? I’m not a big amusement park person so we haven’t been to any, but I think she likes Disneyland? Have they ever broken a bone? I don’t think so. Which do they tend to remember more - names or faces? Neither. What are their religious beliefs? Or are they not religious? She’s agnostic. She believes there must be something or someone out there that caused the universe and why everything in it has happened so seamlessly, but she is in no pressure to find out who or what it is. Have they ever volunteered anywhere? To my knowledge, she has not. What's their favorite season? I dunno, we only have two. What sports have they played? Basketball and softball. What musical instruments have they played? Guitar and ukulele. What is a cause they feel strongly about? Women’s rights, and women in general.   What's their ancestry? She’s Turkish on her mom’s side, but other than that she’s Filipino. Which do they prefer - coffee or tea? Coffee. Do they believe in astrology? Ugh. Yes. Are they more of a night owl or a morning person? Night owl.

[namjoonchronicles]

Love, Diligently - [BTS] Husband!Yoongi Au

[A/N] Moodswing can be tiring and is a given in all marriage. The ups and down of marriage can be emotionally taxing, but Yoongi is definitely a creature of intense and smouldering emotion...but can he handle them?

He took the keys. He took the keys you threw on the bed, and exited the room.

You hang your head down and, silently consoled yourself. Your lips quiver in a helpless attempt to calm yourself. "This mouth..."

Yoongi lunged through the hallway in haste steps, gripping the car keys tighter in one hand and he wore a frown on his face, unable to shake away the burning fire in his heart but thankfully, his brain took control. He stopped in front of the kitchen and hung the car key on the key holder there, chewing his lips. His severed skin around the thumb from anxiety he had been suffering, are finally healing after awhile. He ruffled his own hair and sat in the living room in his shorts and tees. He sat there in silence, elbows on knees, the blank TV screen reflecting himself. The wedding picture hanging on the wall was tilted a little to the right and Yoongi gave it a burning stare. An unforgiving death stare. He was hungry. But he wants to sit here and overthink stuff until he decides to do something with his body. He doesn't want to work, he's not happy enough to do that. He doesn't want to do the laundry, and the trash isn't full to throw. He lifts his butt from the sofa to travel down the guest's bathroom, and,

...cleaned.

Scrubbing the tiles, the sink, the mirror. He cleaned. Spraying everything with disinfectant, more scrubbing, cleaning the tub, the shower curtain, the window, the areas around the faucet's neck, rinse, and repeat. He took out all his frustrations to the scrubbing until his muscles felt the ache from the aggressive manoeuvre. This was a more promising workout than his $300 a month gym membership. Maybe you two should fight more.

"We've been through this many times..." Yoongi thought. We've been through this, many times. He chanted. How is this any different from the ones before?

Yoongi would fight the world for your hand. He is and has done it before. He would walk through storm and back, for you. If you call out for him, he will definitely run to you, no second thoughts. And he knows you'd do the same. During this straining moments, flashes of happy times would come through his mind. Drilling through, cascading in multiple screens in his mind where he lived life at the fullest. His salvation is the sound of your heartbeat in his ear. His manuscripts contains your name and his rendition of addictive love would be your lullabies.

Stay, his heart whispers. When his head is screaming, leave.

How can those whispers be louder than the screams? It was unfathomable. Maybe it was in the way you cradle his head in your hands when he is close to breaking apart--that makes it so hard to leave. Maybe it was in the way you stared into his orbs, with so much intensity and belief that everything would work out in the end. Maybe it was how you fueled his dreams and create a world only you two understood, and everything else cease to exist, disappear into thin air, the storms and hellfire around him dissipates when you're around. Maybe, just maybe.

He was foolish. But I'd walk through hellfire for that hands and those eyes, and hell, those beautiful soul.

Loving Yoongi is like tiptoeing on a thin sheath of ice. But it is also like walking in the garden in Spring, filled with blue hydrangea. It's like being in a small unsteady boat underneath a clear sky where the sun shines the brightest but the warmth comforts instead of burning your skin. It was through Yoongi, you understood what divine was and what it could bring. Nights of fathomless blackness seemed to console his soul and his mysterious allure gave you excitement. And when he revealed his selfless heart for you to see, you knew he was made for you. You have entrusted this man with your whole-being and the worst thing was, you didn't know how it happened. His fervour kisses, and the intensity in his gaze, the sweetness in his smile and the way his eyes crinkle, everything about Yoongi; was and is breathtaking. The way your hands fit in his like a lock and key, how he held so tight and yet so loose; Yoongi doesn't lie when he says he needs you. That twilight by the beach in the morning of a summer, when he wore that white shirt, and a Hawaiian flower casual over, black shorts and a straw hat in one hand, another was lacing fingers with yours; and how his bony feet left prints in the sand--you remembered the words he said, word by word.

The ocean washes the shore, as he led the way. You stopped in your step and he turns around to see you. "Why, what's wrong sweetie?"

"...I'm tired, I want to go home." Yoongi frowned at you. The naggings come before he could breathe a word. You wanted him to get angry at you, you want to push him over the edge, you want to push him away and see if he comes back. You want some kind of proof that he was the one. You will find his fault and you will press on until he breaks under pressure. But Yoongi halted and brushed your hair away, towering over you. "But we just got here," he smiled, kept his eyes contact short, and "...you said you wanted to walk along the coast. I know what I heard." He turns his back to you and knelt, he held his hand to you for you to take and carried you on his back to walk along the coast. With your face so close to his ear, you stared into his porcelain imperfect skin. The sound of the waves overpowered you, and you traced his features with your index finger, in silent awe. You ran them down his helixes, and his pierces. "Why did you take them off?" You whispered that he surprisingly heard.

Yoongi shot his eyes to the sand, your legs on each side of him as he coasted the shores with his bare feet, the seaside wind brushing his hair back once in awhile. His straw hat is on you right now. "It was starting to hurt, and I usually forgot to take them off before I sleep," you heard him say. He lied.

Moments like these you began to wonder, if it was all worth it.

Being with you, hurts him. He had to change his appearance, be silent most of the time when he could be loud, rendered his beliefs so he could fit into your families' expectation. This was why you deemed it was unnecessary for him to come home to his in-laws. You haven't told them that you married someone. Their words are ruthless, and insensitive. They didn't want him here, they made it clear. With their body language and their eyes. Welcoming with their mouth, but didn't share the warmthness Yoongi deserved. In the kitchen alone, while you watch your mother wash the dishes, you heard her say to you, "...he has piercings. That's why I don't like him. He talks about dreams, music and possibilities. He doesn't even have a real job..." With each words she chose, a dagger strike through your heart. How can someone you lived with for so long, felt like a stranger? 

"Musicians make money too, mom."

"Tell me the truth, darling. Have you been spending money on him?" She wipes her hand. "Mom, I'm not stupid..." You darted in hushes, after scanning the whole room to make sure Yoongi isn't there. "I'm just asking," she stresses, "There's no need for you to be so worked up by it. I'm just curious, because he doesn't look like he has...a lot." You bit your tongue and shot your glances elsewhere. "Let's be honest, he's just a fling, isn't he? Does he has tattoo, is it nice?"

And then you disappeared to the living room and grabbed your handbag to take out a file.

"I didn't mean to reveal it this way, it was suppose to be tomorrow during the family dinner, but you're making it hard for me to stay civilized," you revealed a degree certification on the dinner table. The degree you've been wanting to do. "Wow...when?" Mom puts away the table cloth and took a closer look. "He's not a fling, he doesn't have a tattoo and I'm marrying him. I've married him. He paid my tuition fees. With his 'non-existent' money. The tuition fees our family can't afford and has been with me through thick and thin..." you exhaled sharp. "Now wait a minute, young lady, are you throwing your family away for this boy?" Mom raised her voice a little.

"If they prove to be otherwise, I don't see why not..." You shot. 

And earned a slap across your cheek.

The stinging was still there and you hung your head low before pushing your hair back to scoff and smile.

"All these years of raising me, you have no idea that I self-harm, had suicidal thoughts and told me to 'suck it up' because 'it's all in my head'. Push me, push me further over the edge, making me question my worth, telling me that no one cares about me but my family, I remember every single thing you did to me, mom," you grinded your jaws.

Every slap, every yank, every push. Everything.

"You push my face into a bowl of rice when I was 8 because I said I was hungry when you're meeting your friends. You locked me in my room, I have scratch marks on the door, that's why we moved, remember? And you push me down the floor, for asking about my dad, that's why I have this scar under my chin. And we moved again. Remember that mom? How you blame me over everything, did you ever think that I didn't ask to be born?!" You readied your face for another blow but before her palm could reach you, Yoongi stepped in between and held her wrist from you.

You ran upstairs before your tears could fall.

Yoongi stared into her iris, and breathed, "Please forgive her. She's a good daughter. She holds grudges, but she's a good daughter." Yoongi begged in your place, he set his knees to touch the floor and he begged. "You don't have to hit her anymore, I'm here in her place," he said, and lowered his head. Your mother leaned her back to the counter and cried. "...I was trying to be a good wife for a horrible husband that I forgot that I am also a mother..." She sobbed.

Upstairs.

Brushing your teeth, you sniffed. Your eyes are red and half of your face were swollen. Even though the things that she did were many years ago, the incidents are still vivid in your mind. The memories replays precisely where it happen, how she looked like. Because no one really forget pain. You always sleep with your fist clenched tight, and on your side, holding on to whatever invincible strength there is. The only person who was supposed to protect you, is making you run away from them.

So all you ever had was yourself.

"It's useless, holding on to these memories," you'd scold yourself, "...but pretending that it didn't happen, will not change the fact that it did. Someone out there must hear my stories. It didn't matter who, or when, someone must know that I went through this."

You heard the knob twisted open and then closed, gently. Yoongi's footstep circled the bed and to the bathroom door, opposed to the wall you're facing. He set his foot into the bathroom and shut the door. And in there, he stared into his own reflection. His double-helix, his multiple piercings he got when he was younger, and slowly, he lifted his hand and unfastened the earrings. Some of them clink against the counter when they fell out of his hand. He quickly presses his palm over them so it will stop making noises.

You watched his shadow from the door gaps and let nothingness consume you. Your mind is blank, you felt no remorse, no hurt, no happiness--nothing.

And true what they say: People who don't feel pain anymore, are the most damaged. 

Yoongi opened the door to your glassy eyes, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, right in front of the bathroom door. The rest of the room is dark, only the light from the bathroom came through. You were hugging your knees and looked up at Yoongi. His face darkened by the shadow of light behind his head that it looked like halo. You struggled to swallow your spit, looking intently at him with a gaze that he understood as a cry for help from the way his soul whispered. "Yoongi," his name spill out like a prayer through your tantalizing petal of lips, taking in shaky breaths and out in a tiny squeak, 

"...I can't feel anything." 

And you fell into the paroxysm of grief and despair, submerging beneath the surface of the water, drowning. Yoongi drop to his knees and collected your shoulders into his powerful healing embrace. And it was as if he was the arm that came out from above to rescue you. The way the fingers spread far and wide, trying to reach you, as you fell further and further deeper into the sea.

Just when your feet touches the seabed, Yoongi grabs you.

When he held you tight, you couldn't breathe, you felt every bone constrict, every fibre in your body screaming out for him, your arms were limp on each side, your gaze are empty, darting straight to the wall's skirtings. The wind blew softly sending the curtain to sway helplessly. Your shoulders are burdened by the weights and expectations of having to be strong when she couldn't. With every cuts and bruises, you hardened up. Outweighing years of sorrow and bitterness have shed you of all the emotions you should feel. And all that's left was numbness beneath the pretense of an exterior you claimed to be, the inaccessible heart that concealed a divinity no human could have possessed. Yoongi penetrated beneath the surface to the core, from the familiarity of the path of your heartlines.

When the heart beats the same way, they'll find their way through and that was something that your parents couldn't understand.

How can they understand something they never had?

Yoongi didn't let you go for the whole night. People of the night like you two, finds sleep was unimportant. You both yearned for the moonlight, star-studded night skies,  and Yoongi led you out the front door when the rest of the house was asleep.

He took you to the beach where peace brooded over your entire being and the sound of the sea filled your head instead of the misery your family had brought upon you and for that, you were thankful. Perpetual gloom and seclusion of life begins to wane away with every step you take away from the house. "This is why isn't it?" He suddenly say, breaking the silence with lingering hold on your fingers. You looked at the never-ending shore before you, waiting for him to explain what he meant. "...This is why you told me to leave you," he glances at you and then the shores. You squinted your eyes, your hair flew at every strike of soft, subtle wind, as if to console.

"You'd think any sane guy would marry me knowing I have such an incomprehensible family?" You chuckled dryly. "You think I'm sane?" He challenged you.

You threw him a wondering glance before a smile crept up your lips and you shot your head away, perplexed at his smart mouth. He bit his lips and stared down at your reaction, he stops in his lunge of steps and waited for you to turn. He cups your face, linking your forehead to his, whispering, "I'd die for you..." ghosting your lips with his own, he clenches his eyes shut, "...today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and the years after that, even when you don't want me, anymore," he locked his jaws together, holding himself back from a kiss he wanted so much, "...I love you, and I will always protect you." You tipped his chin up, a smile disappears from your lips and kneaded your petals on him so he could be saved. When Yoongi promised, Yoongi delivered. The power to assuage the thirst of his soul has always been in your delicate hands. In a split second, you are no longer quivering in a restrained grief. And he walked with you, to the ends of the shore, like you said you wanted to. Until your thought changes and said,

"I'm tired, I want to go home." You want some kind of proof that he was the one. You will find his fault and you will press on until he breaks under pressure. In Yoongi's mind, your words from years back tangled in his wires, "...my mood swings. They're relentless to everyone around me. They all left because of it. I would leave me." But I won’t do that to you.

Fast forward to the night at the beach. To which he responded eloquently, "But we just got here," he smiled, kept his eyes contact short, and "...you said you wanted to walk along the coast. I know what I heard." He turns his back to you and knelt.

"Why did you take them off?" "It was starting to hurt, and I usually forgot to take them off before I sleep." "Don't lie to me." You overheard what my mother said, didn't you, Yoongi?

Yoongi opened the guest's bathroom after cleaning, and saw you standing in front of it. You buried your face in his chest and hung your arms low on his waist. "I'm sweaty right now..." he wriggled out of your arms but you refused to let go so he gives up, "You feel better now?"

"I thought you left me." You nuzzled your face in his chest and looked up with doe eyes. "I thought about it, seriously considering it, thought I should clean the bathroom first," he slurred the words out, mumbling with his eyes shooting everywhere but on you. "And then I thought who's gonna change your light bulb and unclog the toilet? Or bring the car to the mechanic? Or help you carry groceries? Or cook for you because you're lazy and won't do that and rather starve than having to grab a meal?" He nagged. "...How many times do I have to tell you that the white belongs to the blue basket and the coloured are in the white basket? And why are there socks in the winter glove area?" He complaint. You gave him a cross-eye and stuck out your tongue at him. "Are you serious right now? I am being serious right now, I'm not playing your little games," he stared at you and you ran off like a child. And Yoongi's heart whispered, "...Every little thing about you is gold. Is gold."

Someone whom he shared his heart beats with. Someone he could fool around with, be foolish, be a child. How you both shared the shower head and you'd spray his face with water, laughing because of how he surrenders to every little thing you do. "You look like a fish right now..." You giggled. "Well, you look like a crab." He passed.

With Yoongi, it felt like he understood everything. 

With Yoongi, crying comes naturally. 

With Yoongi, complaining is easy because it felt like he knew what the situation was like even when he wasn't there to witness it all.

Even when you were struggling to get the words out when you were sobbing, wiping the tears with the back of your hands, sitting there on the floor next to the bed, knees touching your chest, your hair in a mess, and your eyes glassy, pointed against the dry wall--even then; Yoongi understood. You poured your heart out, shattered in pieces, laid out on the concrete floor for him to see, and it's like he existed for that task. When the tears overflowed, Yoongi would place himself next to you, put his arm around your  frame, and link his forehead to your temple, and cried with you. "I just felt that the world was being unfair on me, Yoongi... Will things change if I become something I'm not? What if I become mean, will things change? Because I'm sick of being nice. I'm sick of having this heart...I'm sick of everything."

Family is an important element to you and it was the same thing for him. You feel him squeezing you, planting a soft but firm kiss on your hair and placed your head under his chin. He tipped his eyes up at the ceiling, bit his lips, the tears fell on each side that he wiped away before you could notice. He hasn't spoken a word for someone who had his own take about everything in the universe. And for that you were thankful. He circled his arms around your neck now until you stopped sobbing, pull you closer than you already are and stayed in complete silence.

"We're one messed up couple aren't we?" Yoongi sighed. "A good kind of messed up...it's like we spoke the same language and go through the same thing despite being raised in different location," Yoongi's voice was in soft whisper, fitting the pitch darkness that consumed the room. Through days that are brief and shadowed, Yoongi was at every start and every end. The first thing you see and the last one you saw. 

You've woken up to him watching you sleep more than once, with that strange look in his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" "...just."

How he pulls you closer in the middle of the night so you feel his heartbeat against the skin underneath your shoulder blade. How his soft and shallow breathing became your favourite thing to listen to. Yoongi took care of you better than he takes care of himself. Leave you little notes when he's gone, precisely telling you when he'll come home. Then he would surprise you by coming home earlier than expected, in apron, cooking in the kitchen when you returned from work. Sandalwood candle lit nearby to set the mood, with some classical piano music in the background. You walked in with wide smile, as he fetched your work bag with a chuckle kiss on the cheek while you take off your socks looking at the dining area lit with a warm lightings. "What's all these Yoongi? You said you're coming home tomorrow..." You smiled widely at him and cupped his face, pulling him down for a proper kiss on the lips. "Go shower, and have dinner with me..." He turned you around and slap your butt to get you going already. Another stalling will cost him, his precious time. He is a little impatient.

"Hurry..." he sang and he heard you say, "Okay, okay...chill, my dude."

Did she just call me, dude. He shook his head and proceed to chop mushrooms.

"I should have lit the candle after I do the cooking..." He thought and tilt his head to one side. He heard the bathroom door open and closed, and then smiled to himself. You came out with a pink pyjama with Sailormoon's print. Hair tied in a high bun and glasses sliding down the tip of your nose, waddling down the hallway and Yoongi had never seen a cuter sight in his life except that one time he caught you dancing while putting on your toner.

He reacted the same way he did now--he melted into a puddle of nonsense. The best thing was, when you got caught, instead of squealing and hiding behind the closest curtain like you did in the first two years of marriage, you turned to him and sing to him with your fist-microphone, and made him twirl in a dance, belting Leona Lewis's 'I Got You.' What five years of marriage does to a person: character development.

"...go ahead and say goodbye, I'll be alright...go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright." You feigned a sad-funny face while he grins ear to ear at your silliness. "Have you been getting vocal lessons with Jungkook?" He asked, pursing his lips, twirling because you motioned your hands above him, and began dancing out of context as you shook your head and kept singing. "...Why do you always sing this song when I caught you?" He held your waist, "Because. You can break my heart and I will hate you to guts and still run to you if you need my help. For better for worse, I got you." Yoongi scoffed at your answer.

But yes, Yoongi had never seen a cuter sight in awhile.

Yoongi kept his lingering eyes on you and when you realised that, you jutted your chin out, "What." He just smiles. He wipes his hand with a kitchen cloth and sat down at the same time you did. "...how is it?" He asked, anticipation builds as you took the first bite of the meal he prepared. His eyes twinkles at you and you clenched your eyes shut, threw your head back, placed your hand on his thigh, grip them hard with your nails briefly before you lay your head on his shoulder and he understood what you meant with that satisfied muffled moan as you relished your taste. "Don't overreact," he placed the fish meat into your plate and earned an electric gaze from you. Yoongi avoided eye contact, "...you have to eat fish. The last time you ate fish was last year, I picked the bones out for you...see," he showed you with his chopstick, "Say ah." You pouted, and he impatiently shot, "...hurry. My arms hurt, come on." You had no choice but to oblige. Munching, you asked him about his work and he blew a spoonful of soup before turning them to you for you to take.

"Nothing to worry about," he said while he watch you chew with your mouth full. You push your glasses up. "Are you going to work with female artists again?" You shot out of a sudden and he darted, "...yes." To which you choke on.

Yoongi kept a straight face when he poured out a drink for you, I knew this was going to happen. "...not in the near future, but it's in the plans," Yoongi avoided your eyes. "Ha." You threw a mocking scoff at him, digging your tongue against your cheek, staring down on him.

He busied himself by refilling your glass of water and took a sip as well, clearing his throat. "...It's work, I can't do anything about it," he shrugged and dropped his gaze to his bowl of rice and fetching himself an egg roll and fried tofu, still hanging his head, low. "You can say no..." you lift one shoulder, shaking your head a little, still looking at him with judging eyes, chewing. "Is it her?" You asked accusatively.

Yoongi didn't answer. "So it is her..." You concluded on your own. And then it was silence for the longest two minutes of his life. "I hope you win another award..." You spoke to your spoonful of rice, and swallow half of the spoon just to show your anger before sliding them back out again.

Yoongi is now deathly silent. But he hooked his feet around one peg of your stool and pulled you close. "I cooked for you, waited for you, and this is how you repay me? This is my home, you're the one I come home to and still, she's your concern?" He lowered his voice and you slipped your glasses up again as he tipped his eyes up at you, running his tongue along his top lip. His stare burning into you, and you murmured, "Of course she's my concern."

"She's a friend and a co-worker." "That's how we started out as. Friends." . . . Yoongi nodded a bit and you felt obliged to lay your next card and, "Fine. Who am I to say anything about your work. You promised to never let things go behind me, but it happened again, I mean...what's new. You do whatever you want." You cocked an eyebrow at your eggroll and shove them into your mouth. You both emptied your plates in painstaking silence and you did the dishes because you were grateful for Yoongi cooking it all. Instead of leaving you to your task, Yoongi leaned his back on the counter, palms rested on the marble finish, next to his hip, staring at the back of your head. "What's the real problem here, honestly."

"The problem is, you decided to work with female artists and failing to tell me about it, again..." "No, that's not the problem. You told me you understood the situation. This is something else entirely. What are you not telling me?"

Last plate to rinse and set on the dish rack. You turn around to see Yoongi, still in that same position, and this time he whispered at you, "What is it?"

You shrugged, and thinned your lips at him, fixing your glasses. Your hair bopping with each movement you make. Yoongi said, "Come here." To which you responded with a small stride, closing the distance between you and him.

"Who's wife are you?" "Min Yoongi's." "Who am I?" "Min Yoongi."

Yoongi looked intently into your eyes, "I'm still here. All those shit we went through? I'm still here. I still love you. I'm still with you. Min Yoongi is going nowhere but here."

----

Turbulence, chaos and storms--loving someone is to have all the reasons to leave, but holding onto one, to stay. "I gave you a chance because I thought you'd be different!" Yoongi felt chills travel down his spine and he shuddered when he heard you say those words. How could you? What else was not enough? Where is he missing the point? We are no longer in the position to have this conversation. It's all or nothing for Yoongi. 

"Just leave me Yoongi. Just go!" You cried and threw the keys on the bed and he took it, and exited the room.

It began with the exchanges of texts Yoongi had in his phone and he overruled your accusations by laying out his arguments that you were not as faithful as he thought you were too. And it just went back and forth, about the thing that you do and he did too, and it got to a point where you felt obliged to say that you are disappointed. And it didn't take long for you two to realise that you were having this fight because you two were insecure about your placements in each other's life. It wouldn't have been a huge debate if this relationship wasn't important to you. So you stood by the guest's bathroom door and waited for him to finish venting out his frustrations with the things you say by cleaning. Because honestly, no one else is going to love you like Yoongi does.

"Why did you take them off?" "It was starting to hurt, and I usually forgot to take them off before I sleep." "Don't lie to me." You overheard what my mother said, didn't you, Yoongi?

I did. But it was a small sacrifice compared to what you have to go through without me.

And when you're in bed, he made sure to kiss every inch of you. "Why are you kissing me so much..." you giggled. "To make up for all the time I was away from you, every cuts and bruises that wounded you. In hopes that through these love-making sessions, it will begin to properly heal." Maybe from this moment onwards, you can begin to breathe. 

You met Yoongi, and everything felt like it’s going to be okay. Because he loves, diligently.

[sarahtheflutist]

In the pantheon of 19th-century composers, Anton Bruckner holds a unique if not enigmatic place. Widely known as a composer of symphonies at a time when the music drama and the symphonic poem were all the rage, this heir to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony managed to avoid the infusion of literary concerns that so influenced the Romantics. That Bruckner should recognize the purely absolute music of the symphonic genre to be his ideal, resulting from his encounter with the music of the arch literary composer Richard Wagner, is one of history’s supreme ironies. It was a hearing of Wagner’s opera Tannhauser in Linz in 1863 at the age of 39 that initiated Bruckner’s inward path to self-discovery. Wagner, the master of harmonic innovation, was the key to artistic freedom.

Up to this time in his career, Bruckner had been a perennial student of music theory. After securing a position as organist at the cathedral at Linz at the age of 31 in December of 1855, he set himself on a path of intense theoretical studies (by way a correspondence course with rigorous exams once a year in Vienna) with the then-renowned Austrian theorist Simon Sechter. Under the tuition of Sechter, from 1856-1861, Bruckner became an expert in strict counterpoint and harmony. Upon completion of these studies, at age 37 he felt compelled to acquire full expertise in symphonic form and orchestration, which he did with Otto Kitzler, principal cellist and occasional conductor at the Linz Municipal Theater. (Kitzler was also the conductor of the Tannhäuser performance that was revelatory to Bruckner.) Wagner’s example showed that a composer could break the rules of harmonic progression drilled into him by Sechter and still create a work of genius. Bruckner had found a new master from which to learn, at the age of 41.

Bruckner became a great composer nearly overnight. As a consequence of this encounter with Wagner he immediately began to compose his first significant works of instrumental music, his first three symphonies, under the spell of this master. Bruckner’s individuality and steadfast assuredness proved effective in his not being overwhelmed by the theatrical values of Wagner’s operatic work, but by the sonority of his orchestration and perhaps the musical filling of great swaths of time.

The Symphony No. 7 was Bruckner’s memorial monument to Wagner. Much of the Symphony had been completed when he attended a performance of Parsifal at Bayreuth in July 1882. That was to be his last meeting with Wagner, who died in February of 1883.

The first movement opens with a theme first heard in horn and cellos that emerges out of a hushed, sustained dyad accompaniment in the violins. Two more important themes ensue, followed by a development and coda. The Adagio begins with music for four Wagner tubas (the first appearance of these instruments in symphonic music). The movement consists of two contrasting themes, each one given to elaboration. Bruckner was at work on this movement when he heard of Wagner’s death in Venice.

The Scherzo, with its rustic atmosphere brings contrasting comic relief to the intensity of the Adagio. The first theme of the finale shares the basic outline of the first theme of the first movement. The link between the two movements is further enhanced by the return of the Symphony’s first theme in the fanfares of the closing measures.

– Composer Steve Lacoste

[omg-physics]

Deep Space Nine Study Moods

(This is my first study moods attempt so cut me some slack)

Kira Nerys

Knowing exactly what you want and doing absolutely everything it takes. Making time for religion. High key willing to fight for what you believe in. Studying so one day you’ll have the power to help the underdog. Bold black gel pen. Herbal teas. Studying with the pomodoro technique. Sending professors “strongly worded emails” when you don’t agree with them. Red.

Jadzia Dax

Work hard play hard. School-life balance. Using hand-me down notes from older siblings. Literally could not function without coffee. Taking classes outside of your major just for the fun of it. Aesthetic workspace full of succulents. Piano music. Drilling material over and over again until you get it right. Picking yourself up after a failure. Turqouise.

Julian Bashir

Somehow constantly running on 3 hours of sleep with no consequences. First hand in the air to answer a question 15 times out of 10. Not telling people your test scores for fear of sounding like you’re bragging. No sense of aesthetics but still tries to make pretty notes. Studying notes while pacing around room. Always willing to help someone else understand a concept even when you also have things to do. Purple and orange.

Elim Garak

“I’m probably wrong but--” (Is always right.) Perfect aesthetic notes. Classic literature and flowers. Studying alone because you have no patience with other students when they can’t keep up. Skeptical of everything. Working retail to pay tuition. Keeping your mess to yourself and showing the world a mask. Writing scathing commentary in the margins of books. Has no mercy on incompetent teachers. Shades of gray.

Miles O’Brien

Too many things to do and not enough time. Messy notes scribbled in pencil. Doing calculations on any scrap of paper within reach. Stressed out is your default state. Listening to sci-fi movie soundtracks. Figuring out answers to problem sets minutes before they are due. Studying anywhere except dorm room to get away from annoying roommate (actually best friends with roommate). Gold.

Worf

Takes everything way too seriously. Opera music. Epic poetry. Austere workspace to minimize distraction. Drinking trendy juices for energy. Getting up several hours before classes so you have time to review notes. Secretly runs a studyblr. Unwavering discipline. Maroon.

Ezri Dax

Not really sure if you have what it takes but still giving it your all anyways. Constantly the new student. Dreaming of going to a university far, far away. Living in the shadow of your older sibling. Taking mental health breaks. Not quite sure what you want to do with your life. Quizzing yourself out loud (sometimes in public). Pastels.

Odo

Has wanted to be a lawyer since before you can remember. Constantly moving your study space to avoid getting fatigued. Doesn’t drink caffeine. Competing with your friends for motivation. Feels strongly about cheating. Does yoga during study breaks. Yellow.

Captain Sisko

The dad friend. Super calm until the night before an exam and then freaks out. Has baseball games playing as background noise while studying. Will start a debate with a professor in the middle of class. Has no tolerance for professors who just want to make students suffer. Takes notes on computer. Purple.

[meteortutors]

Calling all Music Aptitude Test candidates! 🎵

Unlock Your Musical Potential This Summer with Group Tuition!

🎶 Are you a passionate music lover looking to take your skills to new heights? Look no further! Join our exclusive summer group tuition program tailored specifically for mastering musical aptitude tests. 🎶

🎵 Pitch Perfect: Learn to identify and reproduce pitches flawlessly. Our experienced instructors will guide you through various exercises and techniques, ensuring your pitch recognition reaches unmatched levels. 🎵

🎶 Melody Mastery: Dive into the world of captivating melodies as our experts teach you the secrets of crafting unforgettable musical lines. Unleash your creativity and learn to compose enchanting melodies that will leave a lasting impression. 🎶

🎵 Rhythm Revolution: Get ready to groove! Develop a rock-solid sense of rhythm through our dynamic exercises and drills. Discover the intricacies of different rhythmic patterns and syncopations, enhancing your ability to perform with precision and flair. 🎵

🎶 Texture Techniques: Explore the layers of music as we delve into the fascinating world of musical texture. Learn how to identify and create rich, harmonious textures that add depth and complexity to your compositions. 🎶

🎵 Why Choose Our Summer Group Tuition? 🎵

🎶 Don't miss out on this incredible opportunity to enhance your musical abilities! Spaces are limited, so enroll now to secure your spot in our summer group tuition program. 🎶

🎵 To register or learn more, visit our website at https://www.meteortutors.com/workshops or call us at 07912 607657. Unleash your musical potential this summer - let the harmony begin! 🎵

[theblackguywhotips]

2487: White Patience Has Limits

2487: White Patience Has Limits

Rod and Karen discuss the Super Bowl, Coronavirus News, Dollywood offering free tuition, Chicken wing news, Eric Adams is against drill music, Time Traveller claims NYC in for hard times in 27 years, Kanye West, Van Jones has baby with a friend, Wordle helps find kidnapped woman, man shoots up McDonald’s, man babysitting alligator and sword ratchetness. Our Anchor Referral…

[smrtiacademy]

Effective Ways to Choose the Best School for Your Child

The process to select the best school for your child is very similar to the process to buy any other product. If you are looking to buy any product, you talk to your friends & family, do online research, read magazines, or read on other online mediums to gather enough information before making the final decision. Similarly, when researching about school for your child, you may also have to research schools online, make calls to schools, and collect admission booklets from different schools, research about the best schools in school information sites. The hard work will be worth your while if you find a school that brings out the best in your child.

Apart from the school's curriculum & the education board, parents must also know about school policies and services. Parents may also wish to consider the after-school programs a school offers, for example, sports, clubs, tutoring, or academic enrichment. Some schools have an after-school program, these centres provide educational activities outside of the regular school hours’ before and after school or during summer vacation' that complement what is taught in school. You may also want to ask if the school has supplemental educational hours before including free tutoring, which is offered outside of the regular school hours under No Child Left Behind.

 Curriculum

Find out the school has a     strong program of core academic subjects such as English, Maths, Science,     second & third language, arts, music, and other foreign languages.

Research about what other     courses school offering apart from main subjects.

What evidence is there to     check that the school is effectively teaching the students?

Does the school have a     special focus on the weak students or any program for weaker students?

Does the school have     extracurricular activities that support what they have learned in     classrooms?

If your child has special     learning needs, does the school have a curriculum and the necessary     supports to appropriately accommodate those needs?

 Approach to learning

Does the school have a     particular approach     to teaching and learning (e.g., group projects, individual     performance, frequent testing)?

If yes, do you think your     child will enjoy and learn from this approach?

Does the school do all it     can to make sure each child learns? Does it provide opportunities for     children to get extra help when they need it?

Is the school staff able to     communicate in the language that your child understands?

Are children with limited     English language skills, learning disabilities, or other special needs     learning and performing well on tests?

What is the homework policy?     Does it match your expectations for how much homework your child should     do?

Do you want your child to go     to a single-sex (all-boy or all-girl) school, or a coeducational school?

How large are the classes?

 Academic performance

How do the school's test     scores compare to those of other schools? (Check the school's report card     if it is a public school or ask for information from the school if it is a     private school. See 'Parent Tip' on school report cards.)

In the past few years, have     test scores risen or declined?

How does the school explain     the rise or decline? How well have children similar to yours performed on     these tests?

How do students moving on to     the next level of schooling perform in their new schools?

How many students leave school     before completing the last grade?

What special achievements or     recognition has the school received?

 Behaviour policy

What does the school do to     help develop character and citizenship?

What is the discipline     policy? How does the school handle students who misbehave?

Are teachers fair in their     responses to students? Does the school have a program and supports to     prevent and address behavior problems?

Are students allowed to     leave school by themselves?

What measures has the school     taken to ensure safety? What security measures are in place?

What is the policy on school     absences? How does the school encourage daily attendance?

Do school personnel call     parents when students are absent?

Does the school have a drug     and alcohol abuse prevention program?

Does the school have a dress     code?

Do students wear uniforms?

 Safety

Is the school safe?

How does the school prevent     and handle problems with drugs, alcohol, and tobacco?

How does the school prevent     and handle violence, bullying, harassment, and other forms of abusive behaviour?

What measures does the     school take to ensure safety? What security measures are in place?

What is the school's     relationship with the local police?

Is there a police officer on     duty during school hours and for extracurricular activities?

What information is     available on serious crime in the school?

What information is     available on students bringing weapons to school?

Does the school have an     emergency plan for local and national emergencies?

What does the school do to     ensure that parents and all school administrators know the emergency plan?

Are there drills?

How does the school notify     parents about emergency closings? How does the school communicate with     parents in other languages?

 Special offerings

What extracurricular     activities does the school offer after school or on weekends?

Do all students have the     opportunity to participate in extracurricular activities?

What interscholastic     activities are available to students?

What intramural activities     are available to students?

What activities receive the     most attention and resources?

Are there school and student     publications?

Does the school sponsor     field trips?

Are they available to all     students?

Any publications for parents     available in other languages?

 Facilities and services

Is there a well-stocked     library where students can check out books and do research? Are reading     materials available in other languages?

Is there an interlibrary     loan?

Is the time provided in the     day for students to go to the library?

Do students have access to     computers and the Internet in the classroom and library?

Is the use of the Internet     monitored?

Is there an auditorium or a     large room for school assemblies?

Is a school nurse on duty     daily?

Is there a cafeteria, and     does the school offer a nutritionally well-balanced lunch program?     Breakfast program?

Is supervised before- and     after-school care offered?

Are there tutoring programs?

Are counselling services     available to students?

Is the school accessible to     children with mobility limitations?

 Admissions procedures for public schools of choice and private schools

Is there an application     process?

What is the application     deadline?

Is anything else required in     the application (test scores, interview, recommendations, application     fees, etc.)?

Are test scores required for     admission?

What are the ranges of     scores for admitted students?

Do admissions requirements     include a portfolio, an audition, or a statement of interest?

Are there any other     admissions requirements?

Are admissions requirements     published in languages other than English?

  Additional questions about private schools

What is the tuition?

Is there a payment plan?

Is there a sliding scale for     tuition, based on the parish, church affiliation, or family income?

What are the other fees and     expenses (room and board, uniforms, books, transportation, lab and     computer fees, activity fees)?

What scholarships and loans     are available?

Are students or their     parents required to be of a particular faith?

Does the school have a     policy on student participation in religious instruction and worship?

Does the school close for     religious and federal holidays?

Does the school have the     same schedule as the local public school?

 Smrti Academy is one of the best CBSE schools in Kasavanahalli Bangalore and neighbourhood like Sarjapur Road, Huskur, Dommasandra, Hosa Road, Ananth Nagar, Electronic City, Dommasandra, Silk Board, and surrounding areas.

Admissions are open in Smrti Academy from Montessori to Primary schools (Montessori to Grade VIII) for the 2021-22 batch. Apply Now!

Smrti Academy has designed its learning program according to modern education. Smrti prepares a child for the real world. An age-appropriate curriculum, activity-based learning, connecting books to real life, and “building for change” sums up our approach. The focus is Knowledge, Skills, Values, and Attitude.