free structures

The Signs as Music Hoe Aesthetics
  • Aries: The slight rumbling you feel on the floor when you sit in front of the percussion
  • Taurus: the sound of the orchestra tuning, and you already feel your heart beating faster from a simple concert A
  • Gemini: The low chatter of anticipation from the audience before the performance
  • Cancer: Music torn at the edges with pencil writings scrawled all over the notes, a testament to somebody's time and passion
  • Leo: The feeling of playing a piece memorized; not just thinking about the notes but letting the music and your fingers work their magic
  • Virgo: The bright reflective lights on the keys of woodwinds and brass in the shining concert lights
  • Capricorn: When a person is so into the music that they start to dance and become a fluid structure, free and unbridled and emotional
  • Sagittarius: The feeling you get when you are in concert black with all of your friends, kind of like being a blurry smoke cloud in the night that moves together, breathes together, and performs together
  • Scorpio: when the string players are so into their music that their bow hairs start to fray and unravel and it's a mess of blurry lines moving like liquid silver
  • Libra: the conductor's arms, especially in staccato/scherzo moments, where movement is light and graceful and just there, showing its presence but not forcing it on
  • Aquarius: The adrenaline rush of playing a solo in a piece and the honor of standing up after it ends, where you have those few seconds just for you and only you
  • Pisces: The last note ringing around the air and the heavy, almost tangible silence which occurs for a microsecond afterwards

When it is time to review it, use:

GRAMMARLY - free version does the basics of punctuation and spell check

SLICK WRITE- completely FREE, tells what sentence structure you have, if it flows, repeated words, cliches etc….


EASYBIB For Citations - type what you know, copy, paste, done

Patriarchy vs. Matriarchy

Because of the unequal nature of human reproduction, patriarchy is an inherently violent structure. Patriarchy is founded on the belief of male supremacy: that males should own and control the female reproductive ability. This is reinforced through culture and the threat of male violence.

Women must be subjugated in order to maintain the patriarchal family structure; liberated, free women would not choose to devote their lives and their bodies in total service to husbands. Patriarchal culture grooms women from birth to expect to cater to husbands when they grow older, and teaches women that the key to happiness is to provide men with children.

Matriarchy, however, does not require the subjugation of men. This is because men do not have to sacrifice their own bodies in order to reproduce. Men do not need to be convinced to give up their lives in devotion to women in a matriarchal culture the way that women need to be convinced to devote themselves to men in a patriarchal culture.

Under matriarchy, men could retain full independence from women, men would retain their human rights, and could choose on their own whether to engage in a heterosexual family life or to live as a free bachelor or with their male lover(s).

Families would be structured so that lineage is tracked through the mother, who retains the rights of parentage. There would be no gendered hierarchy or economic disadvantage for women pressuring us to remain partnered with men; similarly, men would not be culturally coerced to remain partnered with women, either. Should men and women partner together and become unhappy, divorce would be easily obtainable and stigma-free. Men and women would only partner together when genuinely desired. 

Women would not be required to disclose paternity of a child to a man; the child would be considered hers. Single motherhood, or motherhood by women partnered together would be normal. Bisexual women who live their lives together with a female partner might engage in a sexually open lifestyle with side partners of both sexes. Polyamoury of all types would be accepted, because it would not be a cultural imperative to determine paternity.

This doesn’t mean that men would be completely alienated from family life; heterosexuality is a biological orientation, and men and women who genuinely love each other would still choose to live together. The man would not have a cultural safety net for any bad behavior on his part, however, and he would be raised in a culture that recognizes women as men’s intellectual equals. He would not feel superior or a sense of ownership over his female partner, and their relationship would be built upon an ongoing act of continued mutual respect, rather than staying together for any other socially pressured reason. 

When it comes to those who reproduce, because of the biological, sacrificial nature of pregnancy, women who partner with men would still have reasons to find their male partners valuable (though if the relationship turned south, both partners would have the economic freedom to have the option of independence available to them), which men can do by demonstrating their care and respect for women. Humans still have bonding hormones, after all. Because a man would still be able to be financially independent from women if he desired to do so, he would not be trapped in a relationship, and would have the power to leave any time he wished. In this way, healthy relationships would be the norm, and the power imbalance of biology corrected by culture.

Women would have complete financial independence from men in such a society, and because mothers would have default parental rights, fathers would not have to pay child support, either (which is only necessary in a patriarchal culture where men maintain economic control). Men would not be subjugated by matriarchy in any manner.

What do men lose under matriarchy? Men lose their artificial, socially constructed ownership over women and children. A man is not entitled to children, a man is not entitled to shape the minds of the children a woman’s body created.

Handing an artist a bucket of paint is not the same as creating the art.

The only women who become mothers under matriarchy would be women with the legitimate desire to do so. Abortion access would be widely available, as would birth control for both male and female people. Men who are sexually active with female partners would be socially expected to take control of their own fertility–it makes more sense to take the bullets out of a gun than it does to shoot live rounds at a bullet proof vest. No woman would ever be told that motherhood is the only way she could be happy or that motherhood is an obligation for women, because the intense sacrifice required would be understood and respected. Motherhood would be given the respect it deserves, as a woman’s intense experience of creating a child with her body would be given the cultural admiration and acceptance it deserves. Motherhood would be an aspect of public life rather than private life; there would be no stigma to breastfeeding. Society would be structured to accommodate mothers, with childcare facilities available to working women, with fair maternity leave available to women, with sex education available to everyone.

Because women would be seen as intellectually capable autonomous human beings, and because the sacrifice required for motherhood would be given the weight it deserves, women who live child free lifestyles would be seen as living happy and satisfying lives. Women would not be looked at as reproductive objects. Child free lifestyles for women would be very common, normal, and accepted, and everyone would understand why child free women live the way that they do.

Lesbians would be able to live openly and freely in a matriarchal society, as there would be no compulsory heterosexuality fueled by male entitlement to female bodies. Lesbians would never be told that they are “wasted resources” that a man could have possessed.

Gay and bisexual men would be free to partner and love each other, as well, because there would be no social pressure on men to partner heterosexually with women when they have no desire to do so.

Matriarchy as a family structure is good for everyone. 

Dare to dream. 

Lover's Rhapsody: Jungkook (M)

Lover’s Rhapsody

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: This piece contains explicit sexual situations. Discretion is advised.

A/N: I recommend listening to Once Again by Mad Clown and Kim Na Young. If you can’t tell, this fic mayyyyyyy be loosely based off of Descendants of the Sun. It’s a great drama and I recommend that you check it out!


Rhapsody /n: A rhapsody in music is a one-movement work that is episodic yet integrated, free-flowing in structure, featuring a range of highly contrasted moods, colour and tonality. An air of spontaneous inspiration and a sense of improvisation make it freer in form than a set of variations.

You stood at the back of the dingy, terribly lit club and watched as your boyfriend was pummeled to the ground by a much taller and bulkier male. Although it was clear that the fight was over, Jungkook refused to give up , lunching at the man over and over again. The opponent was merely swiping at him now, Jungkook too weak with his oddly bent fingers and nearly swollen shut eye.

You stood silently stoic, observing the scene before you and wondering just how much gauze you would need this time around.

Finally, with the crowd roaring to “finish him!” the larger man grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yanked him close. In one swift movement, the bulky man whipped his forehead into Jungkook’s’. He pulled back, seemingly unharmed while Jungkook slumped completely in his grip. The man dumped him on the cold concrete and gave a scoff before leaving Jungkook and collecting his money.

You left the club and hailed a cab, leaving Jungkook to somehow find his way home to you. He always did. As the taxi sped past swanky apartments and expensive clubs, your mind drifted as you contemplated your relationship.

Jungkook was an ex-army command officer, specially trained for reconnaissance and take down missions. The relationship had always been strained because of distance, but you loved him anyway. While he was on leave from his job, Jungkook took up a much more irresponsible pass time. He was an underground boxer. It was a weak-paying and highly illegal hobby to have, not to mention the fact that it was possibly deadly every time he went into a club. The only positive thing was that it gave him an outlet for the anger that boiled under his skin from his missions. He loved working for his country, but the mental price took a toll on him.

You murmured a thank you to the driver when he pulled up outside your apartment. A long sigh filled the empty, quiet house when you clicked the door shut behind you. That hadn’t been the first time you’d snuck in to watch Jungkook. A part of you needed to know that he was okay; he almost always was not.

You sat on the couch, waiting for him to eventually come stumbling through the door with a bloodied face and broken fingers.

Eventually, you heard the tell tale shuffling out in the hallway before the soft click of the door. You turned to see Jungkook slumped in the doorway, struggling to remove his sneakers. You couldn’t help the gasp as you took in his battered appearance.

He hadn’t cleaned up in the least bit, blood dried in drops down his temple. His fingers on one hand were wrapped and he took special caution with them. You figured he’d at least broken a few. His left eye was completely swollen shut and sickly colors of purple and blue. You could only imagine what the rest of his body looked like beneath his clothing.

He went silently to the kitchen without greeting you. You stood up and followed him in, rubbing your arms at the uncomfortable tension.

“Tonight was bad, huh?” You spoke up. You cleared your throat, already trying to fight against tears at seeing him in so much pain.

“Not too bad,” he murmured. He still hasn’t faced you as he made his way to the fridge to presumably grab a beer.

“Did you make any money?” You tried again and kept the ignorant act afloat. Jungkook never knew that you watched him every now and then. He had always warned you of how dangerous the clubs could be and how bloody and violent the fights would get.

He pulled a crumpled ten dollar bill from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the island. The turn of his body gave you the slightest glimpse of his split lip and puffed skin.

“I won once. The others I lost,” he continued in his rummaging through the fridge. “Where’s the goddamn beer?” He gritted through his teeth, seemingly speaking to himself.

“You should get to bed and rest up if you want to get better, captain. And that’s an order,” you chuckled as you made the joke in an effort to lighten the mood.

“I’m not on duty right now, and you’re not my superior,” his voice sounded stone cold.

“You’re just hurt so badly, especially this time. I worry about you. It seems like every time you come home, it’s worse-”

“I said I’m fine, (Y/N). Now go to bed. I’ll be in later,” he spit. He finally found his drink and brushed past you without another word. In his mind, the conversation was over.

All the pain and worry and stress you’d been holding in seemed to come flooding out in you next words.

“You didn’t seem fine when that huge guy knocked you out cold,” you blurted out. The tears came forward like a waterfall and you let out one loud sob. You turned to find Jungkook frozen mid-step.

“(Y/N),” he started. His voice was dangerously low, and you put a hand over your mouth to try and stop the body wracking sniffs that shook you. “Did you come to the club tonight?” He turned around to stare at you with no humor or messing around in his eyes. Your eyes dropped to the floor and you fiddled with your fingers, refusing to look at him.

“Sometimes I go to check on you, and you’re always getting beat on by big guys. One of these days I’m afraid that you won’t-”

“Alright, alright. That’s enough,” his voice was gentler and held none of the malice from a few minutes before. He set his drink down and came to cradle you against him as you let the sobs loose. His mood had dramatically changed as he realized how hard it must be for you to see him in so much pain so often.

“I got one hell of a shiner that could use some attending to,” he murmured after your sobs has quieted to a few hiccups now and then.

“O-okay,” you sniffed. He led you to the bathroom with his good hand and helped you get out the supplies.

You sat on the counter a half hour later, still finding new nicks and bruises that needed creams and bandages. He stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs, his eyes closed as you dabbed an alcohol swab on his broken skin.

You grabbed the butterfly bandages and started to hold the skin together.

“You’re gonna need ice for your eye,” you mumbled. The emotions were welling up again, and your eyes blurred. “You idiot,” you cried through a husky voice. “How could you do this to me? How could you do this to yourself?” You weakly hit his shoulder.

He waited for you to catch your breath but they only grew more shaky as he surveyed you. You hid your face from him, a little embarrassed at the second outburst.

“You leave to go on missions where you might get shot, and then you come home and go get yourself beat to a pulp and I’m always so worried-”

He lifted your chin to look you straight in the eyes.

“How worried?” He asked. The teasing tone in his voice confused you, and you tilted your head. “How worried were you?”

“What do you mean? You almost died over a few dollars. I was sick to my-”

He shut you up by tugging your lips to his. You quickly forgot what you were saying and melted into his soft, swollen lips. You took his bottom lips between yours and suckled lightly, pulling back slightly before releasing him.

“You look cute when you’re worried,” he hummed. His doe eyes stared deep into yours. You huffed and hit his shoulder again, earning you a grimace.

“This isn’t funny, Jungkook. You were seriously hurt tonight. How many fingers did you break? Two? Three?” You fiddled with the dirty hem of his shirt sleeve.

“Three.” His voice was no louder than a husky whisper.

“I can only help you so much. One of these days-”

He cut you off again, pushing his lips to yours hastily to stop the words he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to face the gravity of the situation he created for himself. While he focused on kissing you deeply, his hand smoothed up your thigh to tug at your loose shorts, signaling exactly what he wanted. You released his lips with a sigh.

“I wish you’d stop cutting me off like that,” you complained.

“How can I help myself when I have such a pretty girl right in front of me?” He pinched at the soft skin of your thigh, eliciting a yelp from you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whimpered, pushing your forehead against his lightly. Your hand was still absentmindedly stroking his dark locks as you pouted.

“We’ll be careful then. I want to make it up to you… though you’ll have to do all the work, so I’ll make it up to you when I’m healed,” he promised.

“You’ll be gone for duty again by then. And then I’ll have to deal with it all on my own,” you teased. You knew bringing something up like that would rile him up which was exactly what you wanted.

“Baby, I’ll make it up to you in a month if I have to. Just know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled, giving a loud laugh as he pinched you again. You yelped once more, falling forward onto him. He took your weight as best as he could with his weakened body could, scooping you up under your legs and hauling you both to the shared bedroom. You pretended not to see the grimace on his face as he pulled at the wounds around his body.

He sat back slowly on the bed, moving to help you straddle him. The first thing you removed was his grubby shirt, tapping his arms so that you could tug it over his head. You couldn’t help the single tear that rolled down your cheek at the sight of his battered body.

Deep purple bruises littered his chest and abdomen. They looked angry and painful, mocking you from their seemingly permanent place on his skin. Jungkook tugged your chin upwards and wiped away the tear with his thumb.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you. “I’ll be okay,” he corrected after a moment of thought. When you didn’t respond, he sighed and used his strength to pull you into him. You gasped, struggling for a moment as you tried not to lean on him too much. “I won’t shatter,” he mumbled on your lips. He momentarily detached his hands from your hair to grip your wrists and yank you fully to him. He rested your hands on the headboard behind him which left your faces extremely close to one another. His hands smoothed comfortingly on your sides and nuzzled his nose into your cheek. He inhaled deeply, and you watched as his eyes fluttered closed.

“You’ll always smell like home to me,” he began. You felt your cheeks heat up and you felt inclined to pull away, but even in his hurt state his grip held you firmly on his lap. “Even when I’m half way across the world, or in some shit hole trying to make a few dollars,” he sighed. It was your turn to cut him off as you surged forward and shoved your lips to his.

You couldn’t hold yourself back as you poured every swirling emotion into your movements. You used the leverage that you had on the bed to take control, nipping and licking at his lips. He was eager enough already and allowed you to slip your tongue into his mouth, caressing his sweet mouth with your own. He groaned lightly, the grip on your waist tightening just a fraction. It was enough for you to get the signal, the lust he was truly feeling.

You pushed your hips down on his crotch, moving your hips in a manner that caused his to groan again and pull away from your lips. His breathing was already picking up, and you claimed the silently victory. The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed at you deliciously through the thin, flimsy fabric of your shorts. You hummed, your eyes closing to relish in the sweet pressure that was just right on your clit. Jungkook watched you move with hooded eyes, his wrists tightening every so often to guide your movements.

Soft, breathy moans that sounded like music infiltrated Jungkook’s ears as you pleasured yourself on him. He could hardly hold himself back as he felt his pants grow tighter and tighter. He tapped your thigh a few minutes after that, trying not to lose himself so quickly in the bliss you so eagerly provided.

You halted to your movements when he tapped you as an idea entered your mind. You scooted down so you sat on his knees, and laid across his so your face hovered right by his straining erection.

“What are you doing?” He obviously knew your answer but was still confused nonetheless. He ran his fingers through your hair, gingerly tugging at the strands.

“I want to make you feel better. I want to take your mind off of the pain. You can pay me back later when you’re really feeling better,” you winked. Your hand came to rest on his bulge, and you pressed into him, putting pressure on his sensitive member.

“Are you gonna tease me then, or actually make me feel better?” He taunted. You rolled your eyes with a small smile and unbuckled his belt, pulling down the restricting material. He let out a happy sigh as he was finally released from the uncomfortably tight confines. Your hand returned to his erection, and you grabbed hold of him through the material. Your hand flitted about, taking time to squeeze him lightly or drag your nails over his briefs. With one final glance up at him, you pulled down the waistband and released his already dripping member. Your mouth flooded with saliva as you took him in. The sight of him hot, hard, and red was something you’d never get enough of.

You licked your lips and brought the weeping head to your lips, pressing feather light kisses on the tip. With a few tugs on your hair, you got the message and sunk down on him. He let out a long sigh and his body relaxed when you began bobbing your head.

“That’s it, baby. You take me so well. You’re gonna suck my cock like a good girl?” He taunted. He knew that slightly dirty words never failed to soak your panties. You made small noises of agreement to which he groaned as your mouth hummed around him.

You swirled your tongue around his hot flesh, taking time to swipe the leaking precum from his slit. Every time you pulled back to suckle on his swollen head, you were rewarded with small, breathless wines.

He decided he’d finally had enough of your teasing when he used his hand to wind itself in your hair. You knew exactly what that meant and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to be pushed down onto him. He did just that, and you took him as far as you could until your nose was nestled in the curls surrounding his hips.

“Swallow,” he commanded. You did as he said, gagging around his pulsing length. However much the pain you were experiencing, the sounds he provided you with were worth a sore throat. He allowed himself to sit in your tight throat for another few seconds before you gagged on him and he yanked you off of him with a lewd pop.

“Fuck,” he heaved. “You’re mouth is like heaven. I can’t wait to have that pretty little cunt on me now. Can you do that for me, baby?” He asked. You couldn’t scramble up him fast enough as you nodded your head furiously.

“Yes, captain,” you purred. He yanked you up to sit on his lower stomach, taking his time in staring deep into your eyes. He wiped the remaining spit that had leaked down your chin and chuckled.

“You know, I don’t know what I’ll do when I’m addressed as captain when I’m back on duty. You’ll be in for it if I get a boner in front of my commanders,” he squeezed your butt hard, causing you to squeal. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing,” he observed.

You nodded eagerly once more, helping him hastily undress you until you sat on him once more in nothing but your silk underwear and bra. He pulled down the cup of your bra to play and tweak at the nipple.

You whimpered into his touch and couldn’t stop the stuttering of your hips on his hard member. You could feel him hot and ready beneath you.

“I can feel you through those panties,” he smirked. His hand snuck down from your chest to run at you through the silk. He lifted his fingers after a moment to find them slick and shiny. He made sure you didn’t look away as he slipped them into his mouth and cleaned them off. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he murmured to himself.

“Then get to it, captain,” you smirked to him. Your fingernails trailed lightly down his abdomen, but you carefully avoided his painful, carmine bruises. You leaned forward to pepper kisses on his jawline and sucked lightly at the soft skin of his neck.

“Is that an order?” He teased you by only running one finger over your clit through the fabric. You mewled into his neck, grinding down on the little pleasure he gave you.

“Yes,” you whined. Your hips bucked against his hand, and he chuckled at your neediness. You couldn’t focus on his neck anymore when he slipped his fingers down the front of your panties. Your head rested in the crook of his neck while your hips rode his fingers. A thin sheen of sweat coated your hot skin as he work you.

He started with heavy swipes over your slick nub, and the combination of that while feeling him bare and hard between your thighs was almost too much. You keened harder into him when he finally slid two fingers into your heat. A long moan echoed in the room when he began moving his fingers rapidly.

He caressed your walls, stopping to curl his fingers against a spot that made you loose control. The lewd squelching sound that you produced only encouraged him. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing quick circles. He stretched you out with his long and thick fingers, a feeling that you’d never grow bored of.

Your head felt fuzzy as your body tensed with the oncoming orgasm. Jungkook felt you pulsing around his fingers, and he slipped them from you. A needy whine slipped from your lips as you slumped over him. You already felt spent, but the hunger of a promised euphoria made you rut your hips over him. His hands held roughly onto your hips to stop your movements and lift you up over him.

“You good?” He asked before continuing. You nodded fervently, your head still in the crook of his neck. You were completely soaked, your juices slowly beginning to trickle down your thighs.

He positioned himself at your entrance, slowing allowing you to sink down on him. The both of you were already so needy and wet that you slipped fully on to him until you bottomed out on him. A high pitched whimper escaped your mouth at the feeling of being so filled to the brim.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moaned. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” you sighed. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes closed and mouth wide open.

“You feel so good, (Y/N). You take my cock so well, honey,” his words came out in shorts huffs. “But I’m gonna need you to move.”

You rested your hands on the backboard again because you were too afraid to touch his injured shoulders. You rolled your hips once and a strangled groan came from Jungkook. He was already so sensitive that one move of your walls around him made his vision blur.

“Keep doing that,” he gasped. His stronger hand did its best to guide your hasty movements.

His length caressed the softest and most vulnerable parts of you, and you never had felt so full before you’d met Jungkook. He satisfied all your needs, your cravings that no one else could.

You moved your hips to bounce on him, setting a beat to a song that only he and you could hear, one that consisted on moans and breathy wines and the loud smack of skin on skin.

He felt you contracting around him and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips upward. You let out a sharp cry as he hit new depths within you.

The pace only increased in tempo. You were too worked up and starving to care about making this last. Jungkook was uncharacteristically loud, letting himself go completely. His loud moans and shiny skin made your womanhood tremble.

He reached between your moving bodies to rub harshly at your clit. Your hips stuttered on his as hot electricity flooded your veins. You struggled to stay upright as the euphoria overtook you.

You clenched around him and your hips sputtered around him, desperately following after your high to ride it out. He took control as your body was consumed with lethargy. You laid over him, pressing wet kisses on his collar bone while he slid you up and down his cock with a strong grip on your ass.

He came a few minutes later after you were shuddering and mewling from the sensitivity of your core. You fluttered around him and your womanhood welcomed his warm cum that coated your walls. He groaned loudly as the intense pleasure seized him, and he still inside of you.

You laid together in a happy haze until he was grumbling about you being too heavy for his bruises. You snuggled under his arm and craned to kiss his wounds. He smiled down at you and brushed back the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty skin.

“Your eye must be hurting. We didn’t put any ice on it,” you broke the silence.

“Throbbing,” he answered. You sighed and looked up at him. The bruise reached across his temple and down his cheek while his eyes was almost fully swollen shut. Your chest seized at his battered appearance, knowing that just making love couldn’t solve all problems.

“I don’t like when you fight,” your eyes drifted to the cut above his eyes where the butterfly stitches were peeling off.

“I know,” his soft fingers drew patterns in your bare hip.

“But you won’t stop,” you affirmed. He neither apologized nor promised anything.

“No,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his lips while trying to be careful of the agitated split that was healing.

“Remind me to put ace bandages and bandaids on the grocery list.”

This was your normal. You loved him too much for it not to be. You loved Jungkook. You loved every bit of him. Laying with him in the late night after sex glow, you realized that this was your lover’s rhapsody. And that was okay.


Louisiana Creole- Similar to the Métis, the Creoles are the result of intermarriage between Colonial Europeans (primarily Spanish and French), African slaves, and Native Americans. The result was a group of people who where French speaking and mostly Catholic, while still practicing many African traditions and religious rituals. This proved to be a problem when Louisiana became part of the United States, as they did not fit neatly into the binary caste structure of free Whites and enslaved Blacks. The end result was most Creoles being considered “free people of color”, a social caste that existed between Whites and Blacks. While the group was not without severe discrimination, Creoles became well educated, especially in New Orleans where many worked as artisans and skilled crafts men. They also contributed much to the culture of New Orleans, with their cuisine and music becoming distinctive parts of the city. Famous people of Louisiana Creole descent include Marie LaveauDelphine LaLaurieTroian BellisarioIce-T, and Beyoncé.

Essai not Essay

So we had an essaI to write for French class.

And don’t mistake it for an essay, this is free writing no structure or anything. Free for all.

Well guess whos teacher is getting a four page rant about Donald J. Trump.

Translation: “Alright listen here Miss, you asked me to write a personal essai on a subject that interests me. No rules. No structure. Well, listen well because I am going to rant for four pages about Donald J. Trump. Yes, the biggest mistake and joke born in the United States, and if by the end of this you still believe he should be President you deserve all the consequences that comes with that choice. 

So pay attention cause it’s about to begin.”



my weekly spread when i started vs. now, ft. shinee! ✨ ADVICE: find out whether a strict or free structure works better for you~ i use my bujo more now i’m freer with it!!

as you can see, the past week or so has been kinda terrible mental health-wise, here’s hoping my brain is nicer to me soon!! 🙏

Trial by Fire #29

Chapter 29: Fire Devil

  • A small, burning cyclone that results when heated gases from a fire rise and cooler air rushes into the resulting areas of low pressure; usually occurs during forest and brush fires but also in free-burning structural fires.

summary: When a series of fires unsettles the city of Magnolia, Detective Lucy Heartfilia unwittingly reignites a war between old rivals. But when she finds herself drawn to one of her suspects, the lines between right and wrong begin to blur.

A/N: ….ahem. So, watching you all scream was basically the best part of my day. snogfairy let it slip there will be a sequel. All three of us will be writing it soon. Hahahaha

Rating: M No NSFW in this chapter

read: part I | part II | part III | part IV | part V | part VI | part VII | part VIII | part IX | part X | part XI | part XII | part XIII | part XIV | part XV | part XVI | part XVII | part XVIII | part XVIIII | part XX | part XXI | part XXII | part XXIII | part XXIIII | part XXV | part XXVI | part XXVII | part XXVIII | on | all parts


It was like a lead weight was buried in his chest, choking all the air from his lungs.  Nausea unrelated to Gray’s frantic driving rolled around in his gut and tugged at his nerves. How could he be so stupid?  

Jackal had known about Lucy.  He had known about her connection to Natsu and he had practically given him a detailed explanation on how he felt about her. If something happened to her…

If she was hurt in any way.

Natsu would never be able to forgive himself.

“Come on, Lucy,” Gray growled into the phone glued to his ear, twisting the wheel of the car through the blaring of the sirens, “Pick up the damn phone!”

Natsu had his ear pressed against the receiver of his terrible phone, grateful he had plugged Lucy’s number into the directory the moment he realize she was going to be sticking around. His hand was tight around his archaic phone, the hard plastic biting into his palm and shaking against his white knuckled grip.

Lucy picked up and his heart almost soared in relief.

“Hello?” Her voice buzzed through the ancient speakers.

Natsu laughed, his voice shaky and trembling at the sound of her okay. Oblivious. But fine.

“Thank god,” Gray’s knuckles were white around his steering wheel, “Tell her to get out of there! Now.”

Natsu nodded, his mouth opening to do just that, when a sudden thought flashed in his head.

“Natsu?” Lucy asked, “What’s the matter?”

Keep reading

What if future archaeologists have just enough written records of modern civilisation to know that “ritual purposes” doesn’t quite make sense - what catch-all explanation will they come up with?

“The excavation of a possible site of the late-20th/early-21st Century monument known as the ‘London Eye’ discovered the remains of a large, apparently free-standing wheel structure. Professor Micah Oston of Marianas University theorises that this is in fact the ‘Millenial Wheel’ referred to in some remaining records; like so many artefacts of that period, its purpose is unknown, but experts’ current leading theory is that it was built as part of an Internet meme.”