score book

2

Cause God, when life here ends
I’ll beg you for m o r e
In temper, I’ll hate you
But please keep no score.

ID #22012

Name: Nikki
Age: 16
Country: USA

I’m looking for an internet friend. You don’t have to have the same interests as me. I like books (sic-fi), tv shows (like black mirror, game of thrones, shameless), movies (favorites include interstellar, perks of being a wallflower, gone girl, about time, bridesmaids) , music (hip hop, remixes, movie scores, pop), dance (hip hop), calligraphy, different languages and so much more. I also spend my time volunteering as well as filming and editing videos. We could talk about so many different things or send each other memes. I would love to send you mail with little trinkets and postcards every few weeks or so. We could also send messages over social media or email!

Preferences: I’m looking to talk to someone that is mainly the same age as me(16-17). I would prefer to talk in English but I am also fluent in Tagalog and took 3 years of Spanish(not that great tbh but I’d love to practice). I’m open any race or gender. Please don’t be a creep or an asshole. Just looking a friend that’s all.

I absolutely hate the theory that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t have lasted because Hermione is too smart and too good for him. I was basically the Hermione of my high school, really book smart, scored highest on all the tests, but guess what I learned from being in relationships and out of high school? Book smarts aren’t everything. Not even close. My boyfriend isn’t the best at that stuff, but he’s so amazing at a lot of other things. I’ve been with someone who was book smart like me, and THAT was boring.

Feelings

Okay I’m devastated, of course. But also, season 13 of resurrected human!Cas and Dean openly embracing being in love with this entity despite his lack of supernatural powers is pretty much my endgame.

Because even this episode had Dean fawning over Cas’ ability to heal that knee (the elongated injury … much meta). But I want Dean’s “I love you” to Cas to have nothing to do with power.

But rather, how he adores the being who’d read two scores of parenting books. Who values bulk diaper shopping and IKEA crib assembling.

Because I love Cas and how that episode ended convinced me Dean is finally coming to terms with the fact that, without planning it, he sorta fell in love with the baby in the trench coat.

Can you imagine Hide and Seek at Hogwarts? Like, the entire castle is full of endless nooks and crannies, all sorts of places no one knows about. You could hide for hours. The stairs move during games, picking sides, as the castle chooses its favorites. The kitchens flood with a steady stream of both hiders and seekers, although no one ever seems to settle in the house elves’ domain. Common rooms and dormitories are off limits, because it’s an inter-house competition. 

Gryffindors would end up in corridors rumored to be dangerous, leaving the games victorious, with new stories about the boggart trapped in the unused classroom next to Professor Sinistra’s supply closet. 

Hufflepuffs would make friends with the castle, getting the stairs on their side, so the classrooms they choose to hunker down in for the afternoon become unreachable. 

Ravenclaws using tracking spells to find their friends first. 

Slytherins being in charge of the rule book, keeping score and writing lots of loopholes to use later, winning on hour limits and arbitrary castle bounds.

Hide and seek, man!  

we live for love

We Live For Love

It was a short ride on the 6 train to Canal Street – just steps from Claire’s fourth floor walk-up apartment on Mott Street.

“It’s not much,” she told him, voice echoing in the stairwell, laughing at how his guitar case bounced off the narrow walls. “But it’s been a sanctuary for me.”

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to the social club,” he replied, nodding a hello to the old, wizened woman who appeared at one of the doorways.

“Claire!” she exclaimed. “How are you? And who is *this*?”

Claire stooped to give the woman a quick hug. “Hi, Mrs. Fitz – this is Jamie. He’s the guitar player in my band.”

Mrs. Fitz raised one faded eyebrow. “Oh, is he? Well, Claire – you’ve certainly done well for yourself! Accomplishing your dreams, and meeting this nice-looking man…”

“We’re going to rehearse a bit – I hope it won’t bother you?” Jamie interrupted.

“Oh! No! I’ll be fine!”

Then she winked at Claire. “You have a good night, now!”

Claire took Jamie’s hand and pulled him up the final flight of stairs – not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to talk about it.

God, they *had* to talk about it. About whatever – this – was between them.

Jamie swallowed as Claire unlocked her door and pushed it open. The lyrics of the song – she was a smart woman. She would figure it out instantly.

And then what?

Claire flicked the lightswitch, revealing a small, dated, but very cozy apartment. The door opened to her living room – a couch, dining table, battered TV, and easy chair. A small kitchen curved off to the right – and what had to be her bedroom and bathroom off to the left.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked softly.

He licked his lips. “Um – no. No thanks. Where can I set up?”

He set down his guitar case and slipped out of his leather jacket, laying it gently on the couch.

“I’ll make us some tea – it helps relax my voice after a long day. And why don’t you get set up at the table? I won’t be long.”

She flitted into the kitchen and he heard her turn on the stove, fishing around in the cupboard.

He wasn’t a tea drinker – but he’d do anything for her.

As he sifted in his guitar case, his eyes darted around the apartment.

Posters of art adorned the walls – the Impressionists, mostly. Promotional posters from her favorite Broadway shows, too. And a bookshelf crammed with all kinds of books – musical scores, science fiction novels, cookbooks. With a few framed photographs.

Everything was small – compact. Comfortable.

He lay the three pieces of paper side by side. The sweat on his thumb smudged the notes he’d penciled in the margins.

And there she was, holding two steaming mugs, smiling at him.

She set the mugs in the middle of the table, pushing one over to him.

“Thanks.”

He cleared his throat.

“So – I’ve been writing for a while. All kinds of songs – rock songs, jazz songs, blues songs. But none of them are right for you, Claire. None are right for your voice – or for what the band is doing.”

She wrapped her hands around her mug, sipping her tea. Waiting.

“So I wrote this song for you, Claire. I – I’ve never shared it with anyone before. But I think it’s perfect for you. And I think we should show it to MacNab tomorrow, and I’ll be damned if he won’t let us record it.”

Her cheeks flushed – from the tea, or his words, he couldn’t say.

But he *could* start to play. So he clenched his fingers, settled his guitar on his knees, and played the song.

He didn’t need the papers spread out in front of him – for he had played the song so many times already.

It was raw, to be sure. Would be very different when they played with the band, compared to the acoustic guitar he was using. And his voice was more than an octave below hers.

But it would work.

Eight bars of intro – then he began to sang.

Your love’s contagious // One kiss is dangerous

But I have more to risk // Than you to lose

I feel a passion growing

I know that love is only just one inch away from striking us

His voice rose into the chorus – the chorus he knew she would sing so beautifully.

We live for love

We live for love

We live for love

We live for love

Jamie’s eyes bore into Claire’s. She had set down her tea – one hand covering her mouth, the other resting on her heart.

Two more bars – then the next verse.

When we get tired // And watch the summer fade away

Will you think of romance? // What will we do?

Is there a place where we can go?

Where time stands still for those who know?

Till eternity we’ll fulfill our desires

Then the chorus again. And Claire – beautiful, strong, courageous Claire – began singing in harmony with him.

We live for love

We live for love

We live for love

We live for love

He didn’t have a third verse – couldn’t think of how to continue.

Not when she was singing with him – singing the words he had written for her.

He strummed his guitar, hoping he hadn’t made a big mistake, watching her.

Hoping with every fiber in his being that he hadn’t screwed up.

So finally he ended – plucking all six strings with a flourish.

And for an eternity she stared at him – not moving.

Then – slowly, dreamlike – she stood, and walked over to him. Reached out one hand to caress his cheek. He leaned into the palm of her hand, closing his eyes.

And she bent to kiss him.

Sometime later, Claire woke, untangled herself from Jamie’s arms, slipped his t-shirt over her bare shoulders, and staggered to the bathroom.

Quickly she fumbled for the lipstick on the sink, scribbling on the mirror.

Jamie sleepily padded in a few minutes later, yawning, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her to nestle against him, squinting at the mirror.

“I wrote the third verse,” she said softly, gasping a bit as he sucked on her neck.

“Mm?” he asked, grinding his pelvis against the small of her back. “Read it to me?”

She sighed, so happy.

I never planned to win the race

But you convinced me face to face

There was never a chance of losing at all

“Never a chance, hmm?” he murmured in her ear.

“Never.” She turned in his arms – taking in his tousled hair and the stubble on his chin.

This man was perfection – in every way.

“There was never a chance of us not ending up right here, right now. Together.”

He smiled. His heart raced under her fingertips as he bent down for a long, slow, sweet kiss.

“I love you, Claire.” He framed her face in his hands, eyes boring into hers. “I love you. I pledge myself to you. I will be whatever you need. I will be by your side always.”

“Even when I want to kick your ass, and yell and scream at you?” she teased.

“Even then. Especially then.”

She lifted her arms – and he helped her out of his t-shirt. She jumped into his arms – and clung to him as he walked them back to bed, kissing madly all the way.

Rob MacNab looked to Murtagh FitzGibbons and Joe Abernathy.

Jamie and Claire took a small bow, exhilarated from their first performance of “We Live For Love.”

The three older men nodded to each other – and clapped.

They finally had a bona fide hit for their bona fide rock and roll singer.

Ian and Willie whooped with joy.

And Claire – not caring – leaned over to kiss Jamie’s smile.

“We Live For Love” was the debut single – and raced up the charts to become the fastest-selling number one record of 1981.

They toured the northeast – and then the country – and then the world.

The album produced hit after hit after hit.

They played sold-out crowds, with thousands of men and women screaming and cheering for them. Singing with them.

Especially the final song in their set every night – the one that Jamie always introduced with the same words: “You know what this song is – and it’s a favorite of ours, because it’s the first I wrote for her.”

Her – Claire Fraser.

His muse – his light.

His wife.


Pat Benatar - We Live For Love. The first song written for her by her guitarist - and later husband - Neil Giraldo. They’ve been married since 1982. This story is based on their story.

4

Outlander Season 2 Meme: [5/9] Favourite Visual Moments: You are so like him.

Worst Wand Fight / Warnicorn Stampede FTW
Brian H. Kim
Worst Wand Fight / Warnicorn Stampede FTW

From Star vs. the Forces of Evil - By the Book. Trying something different here, bundling a few cues together when they are part of a large sequence in the episode. (There’s also this huge thing I just finished for a later episode that I hope to post in one big chunk later.)

The fight was fun because I got to switch back and forth between Star’s themes and Ludo’s themes, while also using a bunch of Ludo’s new prepared-piano instrumentation.

Then it all hits the fan, and Star is in trouble, Ludo finally has the upper hand, and it looks like Glossaryck is smushed, and then the book gets all mobile, and it gets epic.