#class 12 maths determinants

[fligniuz]

sex for homework

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you ask your cute tutor to help you study for your math final.

word count: 5.5k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; dumbification if U squint; praise; oral (m! receiving); pre calc lol

notes : crossposting my shit to tumblr and starting with arguably one of my greatest uses of free will in history. title frommm:

You have a bit of a dilemma.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that you had a dilemma, have had one for quite a while now—your current grievances are merely extensions of a constant, one raging, blood-thirsty, borderline psychopathic problem of a class. MTH121, Concepts & Applications, is the only remaining mathematics credit required for your degree, and, coincidentally, absolutely no one told you that that’s really just a fancy name for pre-calculus. Because the universe hates you.

Your final is tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. If that wasn’t bad enough, your brain has utterly fucked you; months spent poring over formulas and right triangles amounts to nothing in the moment, every relevant fragment of knowledge completely foreign to your burnt out, sleep deprived, caffeine ridden psyche. So here you sit, “studying”, armed with just your textbook and Khan Academy tutorials.

Is it too late to switch majors? Yes, you decide, massaging your temples as you take another glance at your notes. A mass of numbers, variables, and scribbled matrices clogs the pages, complete with your near ineligible annotations, details added in the heat of a lecture. You never knew there could be so many different types of numbers. Solve for x. 5 + 2x to the 2nd power = 8x. Factor x3 - 3x to the 2nd power - 4x + 12. Find the vertex of the function f(x) = x to the 2nd power + 4x + 3. Determine the value of x if the sum of the following sequence converges to 5. How any of this is relevant to your future non-mathematics degree is beyond you.

What the hell is a vertex again? And what does it matter? You’d rather be sleeping, or drunk. Whatever.

You have one saving grace. Since your freshman year you’ve been employing a little cheat-sheet, your one-way ticket to having math explained to you in a language understood by plebeians like yourself: one Luigi Mangione, a friend of a friend of a friend, possibly the smartest guy you know (and you’re far from the only person to voice that opinion). Your self-appointed tutor—and unfortunately for you, probably the most appetizing of any of the frat guys you’ve met in college, to put it chastely. The actual knowledge is just a bonus, really, because unlike other tutors you’ve worked with Luigi seems to actually care; he wants you to walk away from him with a solid understanding of the material, rather than a temporary knowledge that gets your homework done but is absent from your memory by the time of your exams. And it’s hard to write off the fact that he’s easy on the eyes.

…Pretty damn hard, actually. Because—in all honesty—you’re really into Luigi. Another thing that’s hard to do is get your math homework done when you’re busy fucking yourself with your fingers, like you tend to do after your time with him, thinking about his cock, his hands, the way he would fill you, pin you down underneath him, smirk at you and tell you dirty things like that’s my girl, that’s my good fucking girl, that’s it, give it to me, show me how pretty you look when you come all over me like this…

Great. At this pace, you’ll never get anything done.

Your phone buzzes.

About an hour ago, you sent him a photo of your current predicament: your laptop and notebook open, and you sitting criss-crossed in front of it, an exaggerated pout on your lips. A few moments later, you sent another, this time of your middle finger pointed directly at your professor’s official portrait. Now, he responds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Smh

Who studies the night before their final?? Dummy

You smile, replying:

i do :(

help pls :((

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : You poor thing

And then:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Come over. In like 15

We’ll work it out together

Score. He adds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : And I better not hear any complaining when I make you actually do the math

Your crush feels elementary, like you’ve got the hots for the nerdy jock on the playground that’s miles out of your league and that every girl on planet Earth is fighting tooth and nail for. You respond:

no promises :P

You pray to your lucky stars that you can study as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

You told him you wouldn’t complain, and you’ve tried, you really have. But dividing radicals is fucking stupid and useless and the more you look at your paper the more these numbers and symbols really start to look all the same to you, just scribbles, meaningless scribbles of made-up concepts that have nothing to do with your career prospects whatsoever. Who gives a flying fuck about solving equations with these weird ass numbers that normal people don’t even use?

You must be thinking out loud, because Luigi laughs next to you on the couch. He is laughing at your frustration. What an emotionally supportive tutor. You groan and thread your fingers through your hair, massaging your temples.

Still smiling just slightly, he starts to gather up your things. “Alright, look, how about we take a break?” He glances over at you, still holding your head in your hands. “Yeah, let’s take a break for a minute.”

He gets up from the couch, disappears into the kitchen for just a moment. Comes back with a glass of orange juice. For you. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the most romantic gesture a man has done for you in the past three years is bring you juice. Instead you watch him, sipping slowly—no pulp, he knows you so well—and peeking through your eyelashes as he scuttles around his dorm, just the two of you alone together, while he throws some laundry into a basket and absentmindedly closes doors of unoccupied rooms. You have never noticed how defined his calves are before, nor how his curls bounce just slightly when he walks fast or how his shorts sag on his hips just right, just enough for you to get a peek of his V-line and the waistband of his boxers when he raises his arms to stretch—

Nonchalant. Demure. Mindful. You are failing so hard at the one thing you’ve forbidden yourself from doing: staring at him until your eyes are practically burning holes in his clothes and he’s melting into the floor. Not entirely your fault. He should’ve known to dress modestly around you. Around anybody, for that matter.

Luigi comes to sit by you now. As you tuck your hair behind your ears you can feel his arm move to rest along the back of the couch, almost around you, but not quite.

“Hi,” you say, propping your head up on your arm.

He smiles at you. You can’t even look him in the eye. “Did you think more about your radicals?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

You swallow the conspiratorial intuition that he has to be fucking with you. Maybe he sees it on your face. Can smell it on you. Something.

“I was trying to think of some things I’d rather be doing,” you offer. “Instead of math.”

Your heart feels three beats faster all of a sudden, and when did he get so close to you? Your thighs are touching, his knee brushing against yours. “And what did you come up with?” he asks.

Oh, fuck. He’s definitely fucking with you. Right? He has that goddamn smirk on his face, that one that makes your insides twist with a feeling reserved only for boys who look at you just like this, like you’re busted, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about every second you’ve spent sitting next to him doing algebra. You want to kiss it right off of him.

“Nothing,” you lie, sitting up straight and trying to pretend like you really are interested in your studies. “Here, will you show me how to do it again?”

He calls your name. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to look at him; the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head makes his intentions entirely clear. When your eyes meet his he inches closer, and all you can manage to do is stare at his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stern and warm enough to boil.

If he truly knew what he was asking for he wouldn’t be asking at all, you think. Not unless he was prepared for whatever your fervent need has in store for him. Embarrassment feels bright red and prickly on your skin. “I shouldn’t say.”

”But I think you should,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh. All bets are off, now. This has officially progressed from studying to “studying”.

Luigi lets you lead, his hand settling on the small of your back as you come a little closer to kiss him, properly. You hear him giggle before your lips meet; the curve of his smile against you is unmistakable, casting sparks through your body and down your thighs. He tastes like spearmint. You learn quickly that he is a fantastic kisser, and his tongue finds yours with curious excitement when your breathing starts to pick up. Without question, he claims the expanse of you, drinking in your essence, licking, biting. Those irresistible curls demand attention, and so you thread your fingers through his hair, your hand sweeping from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. Luigi shivers under your touch, exhaling softly against you.

When the fingers of his left hand raise to grasp your leg, you stop kissing him only to swing your body over his lap so that you’re straddling him. Luigi breathes in deep then, like his nervous system collectively seizes at the feeling of you so close. To give him room to breathe you stop short of settling all your weight onto him. Lips meeting once more, his hands greet your hips; his touch is warm, and timid, like you’re made of sand, like you might collapse and dissolve into immeasurable particles between his fingers.

He groans into your mouth. Murmurs your name. “This isn’t very productive,” he quips.

“Intellectually, no,” you agree, nails brushing the back of his neck. He has goosebumps. A ghost of a smile dancing on your lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his lap; there are two layers of clothes between your bare skin but he is impossibly warm against you. “But what about physically?”

Luigi smiles, and fuck, he is too fucking beautiful. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

And so you kiss him again and again and again, your heart doing backflips inside your chest when his big hands glide lower, and lower, thumb toying with the waistband of your skirt, and lower still, until he’s gripping your ass. You can’t help but nuzzle against the growing stiffness underneath you, poking between your thighs—and you definitely can’t help but love the way he grinds back, hips meeting yours with just as much enthusiasm. Fuck. About an hour ago you were working through polynomials and linear equations, and now the dreamiest guy you’ve ever met is hard for you, holding you in his lap. You might as well thank your professor.

When Luigi sucks at your bottom lip for a few euphoric moments, you make the most pathetic sound into his mouth, and he growls, his hands suddenly coming up to grasp your hips and hold them steady. “Was this your plan all along?” he rasps, his lips moving swiftly to the side of your face, your jaw, the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Sharp teeth graze skin and you whimper. “What do you mean?”

“What, now you’re playing coy?” Luigi finds the pulse point in your throat and bites, softly at first, then harder when your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. “You didn’t want to study. You called me because you wanted to get fucked, because you knew I’d want to touch you just like this, didn’t you?”

This boy is out of his mind. First he practically eye-fucks you while schooling you about imaginary numbers, and then he “scolds” you like he’s disappointed in your lack of interest in algebra, like he’s mad that you can’t resist him for being so damn gorgeous. That half-hearted meanness in his tone leaves butterflies in your stomach, in no way helped by the feeling of his tongue sliding over your collarbone.

“No,” you mutter. It’s not completely a lie. You really did need his help with the math, which he is really good at…but you can’t deny that you were really hoping you two would end up like this, with him kissing your neck all over until you’re speckled with purple and pink. You don’t even care about the obvious evidence of him on your skin—you want his entire dorm hall to know just how well-acquainted the two of you are by the time he’s done with you. The thought of everyone knowing you’re his makes you weak.

Luigi is kissing you again, slowly and deeply, one hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. His touch is too much and not enough simultaneously, your need overwhelming, and your hips are searching desperately for friction, rolling against him eagerly. So much for nonchalance.

He grasps your chin, firm but not at all painful, and flashes you that pretty smile, tutting, “I don’t believe you.”

Your mind is far too preoccupied with thoughts of his touch in other places to try to formulate a witty rebut. You opt instead to kiss him harder and sneak a hand between your bodies, tracing over his chest, down his carefully crafted abdomen, and then over the front of his shorts, groping his hard cock through polyester. Luigi groans into your mouth. He is big, almost intimidating, and imagining him inside of you has your body feeling hot all over.

As you palm the outline of his length through his trousers, his hands make their way underneath your sweater, the sudden warmth of him jolting through your torso. You look up at him through your lashes and he smirks.

“Do you want to sit on it?” he asks you, entirely stoic despite the weight of his words.

You kiss him, still squeezing his cock. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”

Fuck. You have him wrapped around your finger. How could he possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? Luigi is instantly pulling down his shorts for you, the rustle of fabric making your head spin. He’s left in just his boxers and a sweater that you quickly help him shrug off, too. Once you have him undressed, he takes a moment to survey you, your cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, hair tousled from his hands. You feel a surge of confidence now that you have his full attention and so you pull your top up and over your head, smiling when he reaches behind you to help you with your bra. He has it and your skirt off in just a few seconds, leaving your combined clothes to pile up next to the couch.

You shift so that you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, wearing only your panties, watching him watching you. He is grinning, his cock standing proud, and you know you must be blushing by the way his teeth flash from under the curve of his lips. You feel gooey and hot in the pit of your stomach. Swallowing your shyness, you reach forward to take him in your hand. He’s already sticky at the tip, precum glistening on his slit, and so you begin to stroke him, starting at the head of his dick and spreading slick down his shaft. His cock is probably the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, at the very least a runner-up for his face: tan and thick, his girth evenly distributed, and big enough to have you feeling your heartbeat between your legs. There is a prominent vein along the underside of him, ending at his frenulum. He pulses with each movement of your hand.

Once he’s as wet as you like, you come closer to tease him with your tongue, licking up the base, tracing his vein, passing over his slit. Luigi groans—“fuuuuuck, baby,”—and threads his fingers into your hair, tugging hard.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” he rasps. “You asked for this. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Your lips are halfway wrapped around the head of him and when you moan at his words it vibrates through him, his abs flexing deliciously. You move further down, then, mouth closed around his length, applying light pressure on your way back up. He’s too big to take all of him at once and so your left hand grasps the length you can’t reach, pumping gently. You start a subtle, easy rhythm, evenly paced and obviously satisfying enough to have Luigi panting and swearing above you: your mouth starts at his tip, sucking gently, then gliding lower, until you can feel him in the back of your throat and you’re nearly gagging on him—and then you move upward again, cheeks hollowing around him, finally reaching the head of him once more. Rinse and repeat. It is organized. Formulaic. Your process leaves you practically drooling on his cock, spit collecting at the base where you are stroking him. Fuck. You haven’t pleased a guy like this in quite a while, and under any other circumstances you’d probably feel a bit insecure about your work; but it’s difficult to justify any doubts you might have, what with the noises coming from above you:

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby, yes, just like that, fuck yes,” Luigi moans, fingers knotted tightly in your hair. “Oh my god, your mouth…”

You slip your free hand into your panties, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit.

As your ministrations intensify, his reactions do, too. You can feel his thighs and hips tensing in an effort not to fuck into your throat. But you made a promise to yourself; you want to take the entirety of his length in your mouth before all of this is over, and so you move your left hand down to his balls, kneading him and carefully lowering your face until your nose is pressed into the curly hairs of his groin, his cock as deep as it can reach. And Luigi keens, head thrown back against the couch, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the armrest tight. You can feel him twitching in your throat.

There are a few blissful moments of you sucking him just like this, sinking him deep into your throat and pinching your lips around his tip, and you almost wish the two of you were recording because the sounds he makes are top tier jerk material for at least the next few months. He’d be a natural on camera. You want to commit every second of this to your memory.

When he goes quiet for a moment you open your eyes to look at him. You find him staring down at you, mouth agape. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks.

It’s difficult to answer with his dick in your mouth, so you settle for moaning around him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, his voice sweeter than sugar.

You could sit here sucking him off for the rest of your life—you could die with his dick in your mouth—but you regrettably begin to feel your jaw aching, knowing full well that keeping this up will have you hurting. Not that you really mind. When you begin to sputter and tear up around him, he grabs both sides of your face and pulls your mouth off of his cock. You are crying, just a little, crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks, your throat raw.

Luigi looks down at you sweetly. “Oh, baby,” he coos, wiping your wet face dry with his thumbs. “That’s my perfect girl. So good to me. Come here.”

He welcomes you back onto his lap with open arms and a smile. He is warm, so warm and soft against you, you could fall asleep just like this. But he is kissing you now, so slowly that you feel dizzy, and so you ground yourself, fingers embracing his curls. His hands move to your hips, grasping the waistband of your panties, teasing you, rubbing the fabric against your heat. When he finally has them off his fingers are instantly examining you, collecting your slick, slipping through your folds.

“Let’s see about a little reward for you, hm?” he whispers, capturing your lips with his.

You kiss him eagerly and arch your back so that your thighs spread wide enough for his fingers to enter you with ease—not that it would be difficult without, considering that you’re so wet you can hear him touching you, even over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Two long digits move inside of you, stretching you, massaging that spot that makes your knees buckle and your eyes cross, plus a few more that you never knew existed. His touch feels so good, just how you imagined, and you have to lean forward into the crook of his neck to keep yourself upright, your teeth sinking into a firm shoulder. Luigi makes a gruff sound, almost a chuckle, and his cock jumps at your whiny, choked noises when he adds a third finger into your pussy.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Have you been thinking about this, gorgeous? About sucking my cock and taking my fingers like this?”

You nod, because of course you have. In that exact order. Who wouldn’t?

Luigi smiles at you, soft and adoring. You make a curious sound and his fingers depart from you, lingering at your entrance until you grind down into his lap. Your cunt brushes against him, raw, hungry, slathering his cock with your slick.

“I want you,” you whine, grabbing his face and kissing him again. “I want all of you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His hands are guiding your hips, moving you slowly against him. “Tell me about it.”

Well, you would, if your brain weren’t short-circuiting at the moment. His fault. You mumble into his ear, something about infinity, something about the way you hug your pillow at night and all the times you’ve fucked yourself stupid thinking about this very image of you and him together like this. But there are countless words for your endless feelings, words you would preach to him from high places if your body had the agency to; your attraction to him is primal, but neatly arranged, layered, wrapped up with variables galore and multiplying with each moment you spend in his presence. A mess, no doubt about it, but one you can control, a tangle to unravel, an equation to solve. Nothing less. You aren’t sure of how this ends but you know that you need him, bad, more than you knew was possible before.

You crash into him, mouths colliding, everything that you left unsaid spilling into your embrace. Words are hard. Kissing Luigi and grinding your warm, throbbing cunt against him takes much less brainpower.

He is speaking to you when you pull away: “Baby, just a second, wait right here, let me get something.” Gently you are pushed from his lap and he disappears into his room momentarily, leaving you waiting, alone, aching for him, until he rounds the corner again with a familiar foil packet, finding his way back to the couch and sweeping you on top of him once more.

“Hi. Sorry.” And now he is fully yours.

You whine and wiggle against him the second the condom is on.

“Shh,” Luigi whispers, “I got you, ‘s okay, gorgeous. Gonna take good care of you, yeah? Don’t you worry. Gonna give you just what you need, baby.”

The tip of his cock is pressing into you, then, slowly easing himself inside, and fuck, he fits just right, fills you up perfectly, has you seeing stars already. The sound you make when he bottoms out is a hop, skip, and a jump away from pornographic. Luigi purrs underneath you.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” His hand slides down to grip your ass, spreading you, and from this angle you can feel just how much he stretches you out. And then, as he begins to roll his hips: “My sweet girl, working so hard, can’t even think for yourself, can you, beautiful? That’s okay, baby. I can do all the thinking for you, you just sit back and let me work it out for you, yeah? Don’t think. Just let me please this pussy.”

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. Every single word he says into your ear shoots straight to your cunt, the mere sound of his voice so near you electrifying. He’s deep, and with your thighs spread wide like this you just have to take advantage of the perfect angle to rub your clit against him. You can’t help but squeal into the crook of his neck each time his hips ram up into you, thighs clapping against your ass; by the way his muscles tense you assume it must take much of his energy, and yet he pounds you like you weigh nothing in his lap, exerting himself like it’s a cakewalk so long as he can watch your face shrivel up with overwhelming delectation. You can tell that he loves it when you tug his hair or bite him, and so you do it every chance you get, just in case your hushed utterances in his ear fail to make your message clear enough:

“Luigi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, oh, fuck…”

As he paces himself Luigi wraps his strong arms around you, one caging your waist and the other pulling tight at your hair. Your neck is arched and exposed, leaving him free to smother his love all over you in sharp, uneven hickeys. You needed this, so, so bad, and you tell him exactly that, chanting thank you, thank you, thank you and holding him tight.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. “You can have whatever you want with me. Anything.” His lips meet yours, fleeting, and then, with the slightest hint of a grin: “You earned this, baby.”

You groan directly into his ear. It’s straight from your dreams, you think, like you’ve been swept from your bed in the midst of the night and dropped right here, in the lap of the sweetest, smartest, most handsome boy you’ve ever so much as looked at, bouncing on his cock while he kisses you like you’ll float away if he lets go. The two of you work together to heighten each other’s inevitable undoing, like a function of sorts; Luigi pushes and you push back, meeting his hips every time, your clit brushing against him just right, and him breaching unknown depths of you, hands roaming, learning you inside and out.

“My sweet girl,” he grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours, driving into you with precision. “This is all yours, baby.”

Sweat starts to gather at his hairline and you can feel him shuddering in your arms. Kissing him, you press down on his toned chest, pinning him against the couch, and Luigi is practically singing for you, little grunts and babys and murmurs of your name traveling through your ears and echoing in your mind. You want this to last forever. His hips slow to a stop when you begin to move on your own; you raise yourself up, resting all your weight on your knees, with him sliding out of your cunt until just the tip is still inside—and then you drop down, letting him sink back into you quickly, slick and smooth, his cock so deep you can nearly feel it in your stomach.

Fuck. You love this. You love the way his hands grip your ass, your thighs, rubbing your back, moaning your name and kissing behind your ear. You love the way he looks at you. The pupils of those dark eyes are blown wide, watching you move, worshipping how your tits bounce, the gyration of your hips, the blush of arousal all over you, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. The sounds of sex and the shameless way he takes in every feature of your body have you feeling hot and ready to burst. You moan his name, drawn out and raspy.

“Yes,” Luigi groans. “You’re so pretty on top of me.”

Even through the haze of your pleasure you smile at his praise. He is telling you everything, every single thought that passes by in his mind, as if there will be no proof of how good he fucked you once you leave his dorm, as if every word will dissipate into thin air and leave you waiting, unsatisfied, hanging on the edge: “You take it so well, baby, my sweet girl, so perfect, so perfect just for me.”

His big hands are all over you. One cups your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, with the other splayed over your hip. You start to feel dizzy, anxious for his attention, a little bit crazy. Close. Luigi must notice the way your eyes screw shut and your pussy squeezes him tight, because his hand moves down your chest, over your stomach, and then to your clit, circling his fingers with purpose. He wishes—almost—that you were beneath him, so that he could replace his hand with his mouth, trace down your body with his lips and bring you to your very edge with his tongue, over and over again, until you’re begging him to stop.

He settles instead for kissing you, hard, slowly, lingering. “You have no fucking idea how bad I’ve been wanting this, baby.”

You nod, moaning, “yes, yes, me too,” your noises pained and rough in your throat.

The way his cock slams into you with each movement of your hips is ruthless, bruising; he’s kissing you so sweetly and you can feel your climax churning in your abdomen, rippling through you. It knocks the air from your lungs. Sex with him hurts so good. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“Gonna come,” you huff. There are fingernail-sized dents in his skin. “Gonna come for you.”

Luigi nods, whispers, “good girl, such a good girl,” and circles his fingers over your clit as fast as he can manage.

You tense around him at that. You can’t even count how many times you’ve come imagining those very words whispered in your ear by the very man that you’re riding right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah? You like that? You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod wildly, and everything feels so real all of a sudden, like you’ve been floating mindlessly in space and you are crashing down into reality. His teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck and his hips start to pump again and by the time he’s meeting your thrusts you’ve had enough, thighs shaking, and he starts moaning into your ear so that you know he’s right there with you, and fuck, he’s really trying to kill you—

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. A 5’11, dark haired and brown eyed muscle truck that looks at you like you are the only good thing left in the world.

For a moment there is only your deep panting and his equally spent breaths as the both of you rest, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, yours combing through his sweat-soaked curls. The dorm is quiet, calm, almost with an air of innocence, completely unswayed by the heady aftermath of what the two of you just did right there on the couch. You lean back and look into his eyes, brooding and trained entirely on you. And he has that stupid grin on his face, the one that gives both of you away for good, the one that screams we’re not the only ones who know what we’ve been up to.

You want to kiss it right off of his beautiful, beautiful face. But right now you just sigh, lean into his shoulder, and let him hold you tight. Tonight you will walk back to your dorm, all the way on the other side of campus, where your roommates will be waiting for you, likely getting ready for bed. You will walk inside and they will watch you without a clue as to whose hands have been on you, whose name has been on your lips, whose cock has been buried to the hilt inside of you for the past hour. Your legs will be aching—you are sure of it.

Your roommates will ask you, “how’d it go?”, completely unaware of what your wobbly smile really means, how you really spent your time with your cute tutor.

And you will respond, “oh, great,” with a barely masked giggle. “I’m gonna ace my test tomorrow.”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

[inspired-lesson-plans]

This is a very long post. If you do not have the time, then please at least do the quick activity up top. The lesson plan that took me 4 days to write will follow the ⁜ symbol.

HW Due Mon:

Open https://mysolartime.com/ in a new tab and allow the website to track your location.

Open https://www.utctime.net/ in a new tab.

Reblog this post the current UTC time and your local time, using the following format:

21:00 UTC, 4:00 local

4. Vote in the following poll.

⁜

Social Studies, Grade 5, Geography 6.1.5.GeoSV.3: Demonstrate how to use digital geographic tools, maps and globes to measure distances and determine time zones, and locations using latitude and longitude.

Do Now:

Provide students with a paper copy of a population density world map and 2 minutes to fulfill the following instruction:

Draw lines on the map in order to separate the world into 24 time zones. Try not to separate dense population centers into different time zones.

⁎

Class Discussion:

Use the projector to share and discuss the maps of any students who are willing to share. Have fun with this, there are bound to be some good ideas and bad ideas because 5th grade is like that.

Then, project the official world time zone map, and discuss the good ideas and bad ideas present here.

Exemplary discussion points:

The 0-point of the timezone map is the Prime Meridian, which cuts right through England. Why do you think it's in England?

How come some countries like the US and Brazil are cut into multiple time zones, but China isn't?

Why do you think the lines are pretty straight in Europe, Africa, and North and South America, but so confused in Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?

⁑

Direct Instruction:

Long ago, nobody really cared about the exact time. All you really needed was sunrise, sunset, and noon, and you could figure those out with your eyes. If you wanted to be fancy, you could put a stick in the ground and trace its shadow over the course of the day to measure out hours.

Perhaps the first recorded complaint of time-keeping technology comes from Rome in 250BCE.

The gods confound the man who first found out how to distinguish hours! Confound him too Who in this place set up a sundial To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial: one more sure, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when it was time To go to dinner, when I had anything to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall-to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials, The greatest part of its inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, creep along the streets. [x]

In other words, "Kids these days are always looking at their sundials. Back in my day, there were only three times, Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All we needed to tell the time was our stomach!"

Please note this was a satire, so if it sounds funny, you are correct.

But for 18th century British sailors, accurate timekeeping was no laughing matter. These sailors used fancy math (called trigonometry) to calculate their latitude. So long as they knew the angle between the sun and the horizon, and the time when that angle was measured.

Ship's captains would keep logbooks of these measurements. That way, another ship's captain would be able to reference the logbook in order to replicate the journey, much like replicating a science experiment.

Now... think about this... how can you do that unless the next captain is using the same time as you. We take this for granted today, but how can you be sure that two clocks are synchronized?

Scientists in the town of Greenwich, England (pronounced gren`-ich) recorded the solar noon every day of the year and calculated the Greenwich Mean Time. By keeping an accurate and exact time in one exact place, GMT eventually the Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) for everyone in the world. That's why in the time zone map, the 0 runs through one specific part of England.

This is important. For the first time in human history, the clocks in different places were synchronized. Solar noon happens at a different time in London than it does in Greenwich, but if they both use GMT (otherwise known as UTC), then they can coordinate their schedules. This was very important for railroads, where exact, coordinated schedules are very important.

Soon, the entire country of England existed within a single time zone.

When the United States built railroads that spanned vast lateral (East-West) distances, they needed to create different time zones for cities that were far apart from each other, such as New York and Chicago. Thus, the US became the first country with multiple time zones.

As the rest of the world industrialized, they needed to pick their time zones. You can see this on the map. Each time zone is, at least in theory, as wide as 1/24 the circumference of the Earth. It's like the space between the numbers on a clock! Most countries are smaller than this, so they can comfortably fit within a single timezone. Others, like Brazil and Australia, divided their landmasses into two or three time zones.

China did not have widespread industrialization until post-WWII dictatorial communist rule. This was a very uncaring and inconsiderate government, to put it mildly. Suffice it to say that for Chinese farmers in the far west, having to get up 2-3 hours earlier every day would have been the least of their worries.

⁂

Modeled Activity:

Show students how to use this Day and Night world map as a way to visualize the day and night cycle across the world.

Additionally, show them how to use https://mysolartime.com/ to find their current time where they live.

Give students a moment to calculate the difference between their Local Time and the official time in their time zone, and what that means.

(I am currently in Philadelphia, which is 11 minutes East of New York City)

Finally, show students how to use https://www.utctime.net/ to find their exact, current UTC.

Have students calculate the difference in minutes and hours between Local Time and Official Time.

00:41 - 19:30 = -5:11 (Philadelphia is 5 hours and 11 minutes East of Greenwich, England)

Explain that every internet connected device in the world uses a service like this one, then adds or subtracts hours to fit the time zone of your current location.

Higher Order Learning:

Students work in small groups to look up the local time in different major cities around the world, recording their data on a worksheet. As they do, they should discuss the following questions:

Are time zones still relevant in our always-online society?

If you can know your Local Time and the UTC any time you look at your phone, then what purpose do time zones still serve?

How would it feel for schools and businesses to use UTC instead?

How would you feel if your school day went from 4:20-10:50 UTC?

Finally, each student must individually write at least 3 sentences responding to the following question:

Would you advocate for or against your school district dropping references to the time in your time zone and instead referring to UTC and Local Time? Why or why not?

[rubykgrant]

I made some adjustments to the colors/added a few more details, plus I fixed a typo I missed the first time, so here they are again! My Super Hero kids, that I first came up with a LONG time ago with my best friend, way back in middle school. I started with 5 characters... which turned into 7, and because I kept on going, that turned into two teams of 7 characters! A lot has changed over the years, but the "core" concept of the characters was always there. The things I've updated genuinely feel RIGHT, like this is who the characters were always supposed to be. (I also added descriptions to the images)

From left to right-

Casual; Lisa West, Bobby Gold, Ella Noble, Deke Garden, Rodney Bright, Cloe Chance, Min Shirabe

Heroes; SuperNova, Sunburst, Ferris, Rosewood, Vivid, Spellbound, Lyric

The basic plot of their story is two groups of kids begin developing super powers, and naturally want to start being heroes and villains about it (though, the "villain" kids aren't "evil", just little jerks/brats/punks who have some angst to work through). In the larger scheme of things, there is a lot of insidious background problems the kids slowly become aware of, and they all start working together to deal with it (a slow realization that the world they live in, while seemingly "normal", is actually recovered from some kind of post-apocalyptic event, and the concept that "heroes" have been used as tools or weapons in the past becomes clear. it is an unfair responsibility, but the kids are determined to change the system that the adults around them use to destroy each other... also, they have plenty of fun shenanigans, too. these are kids with super powers after all~)

Lisa/SuperNova's powers are enhanced strength/durability, flight, and the ability to control/conjure flames (she can also concentrate fire into intense heat-blasts). Personality traits; compassionate and courageous, sarcastic sense of humor, casually rebellious attitude. She is 16 (sophomore, held-back 1 year in 6th grade), her best subjects are history and art (crafting/woodwork), but she struggles in math. Lisa plays on her school's soccer team, and has taken several martial arts classes. She also enjoys cooking/baking, and horror movies. Lisa is autistic. Background; Native American Hopi/Norwegian/Columbian (dad's side), Inuk and Irish (mom's side). Gender/sexuality; nonbinary (she/her), bisexual, demisexual

Bobby/Sunburst initially thinks he only has powers after stopping an experiment that was trying to recreate what SuperNova can do, thus giving him similar abilities (his REAL power is being able to absorb energy, and that lets him copy/combine/enhance other powers), less of a strength-boost, but he can also conjure/create fire, and is eventually able to fly. Personality traits; conscientious and ambitious, modest, eager to help, curious. He is 12, a child prodigy (placed in 7th grade, but takes a few advanced classes) who excels at science/chemistry/physics. He's also just a kid who enjoys playing video games/tabletop RPGs, skateboarding, and collecting comics. Bobby is autistic. Background; he is Black, Kenyan and Greek (mom's side), Dominican and German (dad's side). Gender/sexuality; cis (he/him), heterosexual

Ella/Ferris can control metal, moving it, liquefying and reshaping it, and manipulating magnetic fields. Personality traits; talkative, insightful, calm and clever, witty and off-beat humor. Ella is 14 (skipped ahead to be a sophomore), a genius with electronics/machines (likes to collect vintage/out-dated devices and up-grade them), doesn't seem like she takes things seriously but is totally reliable, and is a big fan of sci-fi literature. She is always good for a philosophical conversation. While she isn't interested in being the center of attention, she isn't shy either. Ella is autistic. Background; she is Black, South African/Italian (dad's side), Ethiopian/Spanish/French (mom's side). Gender/exuality; transgender girl (she/her), heterosexual

Deke/Rosewood has nature powers, connected to plants and flowers (making them move or rapidly grow to great sizes), also able to decay/regenerate plant life. Personality traits; likes to make people laugh, mellow and easy-going, quietly sensitive. Deke is 15, a sophomore in school. Deke's interests are earth sciences, including botany and ecology, and cares a lot about the environment (they're family has a small farm and ranch). Sometimes seems like a daydreamer in class, but is actually very smart. Deke also likes to collect different scented candles/incense, and keeps a first-aid kit handy for emergencies. Deke was injured as a child, resulting in an amputation below the left knee (has a prosthetic leg, and also uses other mobility aids when needed). Deke is dyslexic. Background; Irish (dad's side), Jewish Ashkenazi/Romani (mom's side). Gender/sexuality; nonbinary (he/they), bisexual

Rodney/Vivid creates solid forms of colorful glowing light, using it as shields for defense, or an energy blast as an attack (he can also turn himself/other people/objects invisible by reflecting light, but have to stay still), and as solid surfaces for movement. Personality traits; soft-spoken, kind and clever, a little socially awkward. Rodney is 14, and a sophomore in school (previously went to a private school that was too competitive and harsh). Rodney is good in most academic subjects, and also a very creative person, with an interest in surreal/abstract art (both whimsical and horror), working with different mediums (painting/sculpture). He's somebody who likes to have lots of little snacks (and is happy to share). Rodney has anxiety. Background; Rodney is Native American Lakota, Oglala (mom's side), Sicangu (dad's side). Gender/sexuality; cis (he/him), gay

Cloe/Spellbound is a witch with magical powers (associated with darkness/night and the moon), but she is also capable of telepathy/telekinesis. Personality traits; withdrawn and cynical, determined, thoughtful. Cloe is 15, a sophomore (previously doing independent study after leaving a school where she was bullied). Cloe has spent a lot of time alone, and struggles to be comfortable around others, but slowly opens up (despite being argumentative, she's also very sympathetic toward other people). She likes fantasy/sci-fi/horror books, and enjoys reading about the history of folklore/mythology. Cloe is a little afraid of deep water (generally doesn't like to swim without something to float with), and isn't comfortable with touching/contact with anybody outside of her family/friend group. Cloe is autistic. Background; Cloe is adopted, raised in London. Both her adoptive and biological family are English, Scottish/Welsh (biological dad's side), Romanian/Polish (biological mom's side). Gender/sexuality; cis (she/her), asexual

Min/Lyric has music/sound themed abilities, she can let out a scream so loud it creates a sonic-boom, identify/mimic any sound or voice, and uses "magical musical energy" to make solid objects (usually in the form of musical instruments, for emphasis). Personality traits; self-assured, welcoming and friendly, loyal, optimistic and energetic. Min is 14, a freshman at school. Her talents are music and fashion, but she also takes gymnastics and ballet. She has studied classical music (with a broad interest in different genres, and contemporary music), and participates in a lot of talent shows/chorus groups/plays. Min is outwardly a social-butterfly, but isn't worried about fickle/fleeting popularity. Min is plural (DID), and has synesthesia. Background; Min's family is Asian American, Japanese (dad's side), Chinese (mom's side). Gender/Sexuality; cis (she/her), pansexual, asexual, polyamorous

[loominggaia]

darkwingphoenix  Luckily Cyana stops putting on makeup basically 0.69 nanoseconds after she's on Shadow's gondola in my fic. I personally believe once she leaves Evangeline she usually has her hair in a Tactical Braid(TM) most of the time, and starts growing it out a lot. Also, can I just say this? Cerulea looks kinda fine without makeup (Like a middle aged teacher, sorta), and Rodrig is just an older math teacher. Lazuline looks basically how I imagined Saphirra looks oddly weird yet attractive? IDK Teal looks like she has Down Syndrome. Not dunking on those with it, but I can definitely see it. I will also note that Down Syndrome affects intelligence. Maybe that's why she's kinda dumb? And Cyana looks like a fucking 12 year old, wtf? Like a tired asf 12 year old. I fully acknowledge she's 16 but she looks 12 and depressed.

-----

Cyana can wear her hair a lot of ways! A tactical braid would look cute on her.

I agree, Cerulea is quite pretty in my opinion. Her traditional Evangelite clown-makeup really does her a disservice...I laughed when you said she and Rodrig look like teachers because you're SO RIGHT! They look like mean, strict teachers in particular. Rodrig looks like he'll give you detention if you so much as fart in his class.

Teal having Down syndrome is an interesting thought I never considered! Unfortunately I don't think it would fit in to the existing lore, because Evangelite culture is not very friendly to those with obvious disabilities. Since her family has money, they would likely send her to live in a nursing facility and she would not be permitted to marry, as they would fear a man "taking advantage" of her condition.

If anyone has an intellectual disability, I would say it's most likely Danus. It may not be obvious enough to get him institutionalized, but his peers definitely suspect something is slightly "off" about him upstairs. I imagine he has some kind of mild, unspecified developmental delay. Teal doesn't have a delay, she's just intellectually lazy. She doesn't like to think too hard about anything, she'd rather be told exactly what to think and do. I think her face just looks odd here because 1) I drew it very quickly, and 2) her face is at a slightly downward angle, so her features look more "squashed" than they would if she was looking straight-on.

Cyana does look a lot younger without her makeup! She has a baby face, but she'll probably grow out of it as she gets older. We'll say she's a late-bloomer. She looks sad and tired here because she IS sad and tired, her life in Evangeline Kingdom sucks! But one day she will find happiness, one way or another. I'm determined to give her story a happy ending!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[backtothestart02]

Tripped and Fell into His Bed - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

AU - Six months after a bad break-up, Iris is determined to move on with her life sans-Barry. But when his face is everywhere she turns, it makes his incessant booty calls hard to ignore.

...

Chapter 1 -

It was exactly 36 hours and 12 minutes by train from Massachusetts to Central City, Missouri.

Iris was prepared for the ride though, because in addition to her stellar studying at her school of choice, the prestigious Ivy Leage Harvard University, she also worked at the campus coffee shop and saved up for a more elevated experience on the train back home in a sleeper car with a shower.

Granted it was still a shower on a train, and she wasn’t expecting anything impressive, given how small bathrooms were in general on moving vehicles, but she was still looking forward to it.

It was the only thing keeping her mind off the fact that her best friend since they were babies hadn’t shown to her graduation. Her graduation at the school they’d both attended until six months ago. And the last time she’d heard from him had been two months ago, when he’d informed her he was ‘really busy’ and probably wouldn’t be able to talk much for a while.

This was also after he ditched Harvard’s stellar science and math programs (he’d been double-majoring) to go to New York on a whim and pursue modeling.

Her lanky, skinny boyfriend (did she forget to mention that?) of nearly six years had abandoned what he was truly great at and had gotten a full scholarship for because an ‘agent’ showed up at a job fair they’d been attending one night, taken one look at him in his plaid shirt and dark blue jeans – oh, and the scuffed up brown shoes, can’t forget those – and decided he was model worthy.

Barry of course had laughed it off initially, and Iris thought that would be the end of it. But the ‘agent’ kept finding him on campus and eventually persuaded Barry to indulge him in a ‘Harvard Kids of Tomorrow’ shoot taking place that very night. Iris had a night of studying planned for the both of them, but he’d reminded her that usually they got sidetracked when they studied together and what could one shoot hurt? It would get this guy off his back at any rate, and then he could focus on what really mattered. Math, Science, and Iris.

Only…that wasn’t what happened.

He returned from the shoot beaming and with photos of his handiwork. Turned out he was quite photogenic when the right words were being dropped in his ear. And even though Iris didn’t want to admit it, the make-up, lighting, and wardrobe they’d put him in had turned him into an Abercrombie model overnight. Nothing more than that surely though…right?

“You do look hot with all that gel in your hair,” she’d admitted, playfully, proceeding to mess it up as best as she could until she could see her Barry again.

Her study session had come to an end abruptly as sexy times ensued, and she pushed the thought out of her mind that she hated the most. That this interest as a model had only begun.

Of course, in the morning she could no longer do that, since Barry had talked with enthusiasm about doing another shoot and another, and maybe even hitting the gym to develop some tone to his nonexistent muscles should it prove profitable in future photo shoots.

Iris’ heart sank, and over the next two weeks she watched their relationship deteriorate into almost nothing as he took job after job, reveling in the cash and compliments it got him, and neglecting his studies too. He skipped classes, bought a new wardrobe, and then, after one more meeting with his agent, who she could no longer put in quotes in her head, since he’d been legit all along and on the search for rare talent, Barry announced he was dropping out of school and moving to New York.

And he wanted her to come with him.

She’d exploded.

What was she going to do in New York? She was double-majoring in Journalism and Business, and planning to sink her teeth into her hometown’s newspaper as soon as she got back. With one semester to go, she was what? Going to abandon all that to watch him pursue a dream that left her alone in the cold, hardly talking to him, let alone seeing him?

He apologized for that, said it would be different in New York once he had a regular schedule figured out, but she couldn’t see any of it changing, and she wasn’t about to change schools for one semester when she was going to the Harvard University.

“You’re throwing your life away and trying to drag me down with you!” She finally burst, practically hissing at him as she reminded him of his life-long dreams to be a CSI or maybe work in some sort of scientific research at the facilities back home.

She insulted his modeling stint, saying he’d just ‘gotten lucky’, and that it wouldn’t last. Meanwhile, she’d be moving on without him doing what she’d always dreamed with someone who appreciated her and didn’t let low-grade salesmen get in the way of their relationship.

He’d been stunned but managed to pull the words from the depths of his being, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, I’m not moving to New York,” she’d huffed.

“We could try a long-distance relationship,” he’d tried weakly, already knowing how that would be received.

“We’re already living it,” she’d barked, and he’d known that was the end.

Unless he begged and pleaded for her to stay with him and he’d give up modeling entirely if it meant he could have her. Maybe then things would be different. But they weren’t, because he didn’t.

She boxed up his stuff in her dorm room and sent him packing. Within a week he’d dropped out of school and left for New York. It was a month before they spoke again, and all their messages were short and choppy. There was no heart, nothing reminiscent of their decades’ long relationship.

They’d lost their friendship and their dating relationship in a heartbeat, and neither had the energy or the endurance to fight for it again if it meant letting go of the rest of what they held so dear.

In a way, Iris supposed she should be grateful to be going home. Barry wouldn’t be there, and she could reconnect with her girlfriends she’d left behind in high school, as well as find new friends at CCPN, where she’d already secured a job before graduating. There would be her parents and Wally to keep her distracted too.

Soon it would be like Barry hadn’t even existed.

Three days later, after a mostly comfortable experience on the train, Iris grabbed her carry-on luggage and made her way to the exit door when the train finally came to a stop.

There was a sea of people in front and behind her, but when she finally made it down the steps and the other people dispersed, going every which way in the direction they needed to go, she saw a massive ad plastered on the side of the train station.

JUST IN FROM NEW YORK…

BARRY ALLEN: CENTRAL CITY’S NEWEST STAR!

He was in a suit and tie, crouched and looking devilishly handsome with his hair brushed back, and his tie loosely dangling around his neck.

“Oh, hell no.”

[vikings-til-valhalla]

One of my best friends felt stupid for being a slow reader. Having been there multiple times myself, and battling those types of thoughts on a daily basis for my whole life as well, I decided to write this to her:

You're not alone in that... In school, my teachers would all constantly say, "You should be able to read one page per minute!" Or something like that, it may have been 1 page per 30 seconds for all I remember. But it took me, regardless of the size, regardless of the number of words, minimum 2 minutes per page, sometimes even more. Taking any test that was timed and required me to read, I was panicked knowing I'd never finish the text in time to answer the questions. And that was often the case. I felt like a failure, stupid, and it was reflected in test scores. I'd get the answers right! But I didn't have the time to finish them all, and that's where I got penalized. However, when I took an untimed test for literacy comprehension, I was told I had a college reading level while in middle school. I didn't believe them. I was literally failing English classes left and right. Then, for college, there was another untimed test for the same thing. I scored so high that they literally did not have classes that could challenge me, and just threw me into the hardest English course they had even though I was determined to not need it. I aced those courses for 2 years straight with A+ in both, because rather than focusing on how fast someone can read and answer questions, it focused on how well you understood the texts as a whole. My one professor gave me 105% because she was so impressed. So all that to basically say, regardless of how slow you read, no matter how many times you have to reread the text to understand it fully, as long as you understand it that's what matters, and shows how intelligent you are. Schools pressure you to be fast at everything because in the working world, time and money are one in the same. You have to cut corners and make the top dollar or else corporations see you as a failure. And what is traditional schooling in America but a pipeline to the working capitalism world??

I've met dyslexic people who published bestselling books. I've heard of authors who failed all of K-12 schooling and published well known books by the dozen. And I myself am a very slow reader who struggled all through school, failed most every class for being slow enough that I couldn't finish any tests, but I've been given untimed tests and proved to be highly intelligent in every subject, several languages, countless forms of comprehension, and I published 2 books by the age of 23.

But I am VERY slow at all of that. It takes me hours at a time to solve a small math problem. It takes me weeks to read a children's book. I usually have to hear something twice or more to understand it, unless I have subtitles to read so I can back up what my mind processes hearing, with something visual.

It doesn't matter how slow or fast you are. Intelligence is intelligence regardless. Capitalism just makes it seem like speed is the end all be all of everything, because if you're slow, you're not doing it right/well enough, and you're not making enough profit for anyone to value you.

What's important to remember is to value yourself and what you've accomplished, no matter how long you took to do it, how many tries it took to succeed, or who approves of the things you achieved besides yourself. Your best is good enough, you are good enough, and your worth is not determined by production quotas of any sort in any capacity. Worth is inherent, and also built upon at your own pace by accomplishing things within your personal scope.

[twistedingenue]

So usually, the crossfit class (and let me tell you, that my gym officially went crossfit still makes me sad, but I guess when you have games competitors, it makes sense) I usually attend is about 10-12 people, various skill levels. Yesterday, there were just 4 of us. Me and 3 very fit men. And it was FREEING. There was no way I was going to keep up, so I didn't even bother, and just focused on good form and my modifications instead.

And it was great! We pumped each other up, and when I joked afterwards about how it feels like my body rolls a dice each morning to determine which joint will hurt the most, these were the responses: Early 20's Math Teacher: I was using you to keep myself on pace. Could I do my run in the time it took you to finish rowing?

My age Man: That's really awesome, tho. You are here and you are working hard. It's really easy to stop doing things like this when you have chronic pain, but you are here regularly and you have other things you do too.

And then I showed them how to do glute squeezes like a bellydancer.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 12: Working Out

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Working Out - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan is determined not to slow down the team again. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pushed his body to the limit.

Logan slipped through the locker room door just before it clanked shut, closing in three dozen or so students in the musky, humid air. "Watch it!" he warned a knot of augmented juniors as they chased past, jostling his safety glasses. His cry went unnoticed over their excited laughter.

He sidled close to the only other full Traditional he could spot, a tall, muscular sophomore. The boy may not have been born with Powers, but he’d certainly clutched a winning genetics lottery ticket on his way into the world.

“Hey, Lo, check it out!” Andrei cheered, lifting his shirt to reveal a translucent implant above his right hip. “Look what my parents got me for my birthday!” Nodding, Logan watched the lights flicker, micro-adjusting his hormone and electrolyte levels. “No more charley horses for me, huh?”

“Indeed,” he murmured. No more leg cramps, no more muscle fatigue. And with a daily boost of somatropin, he’d grow at least another foot and a half before he graduated. “Congratulations.” Logan forced a smile, adjusting his now-fogged eyeglasses. “You will certainly—”

“Alright boys, listen up!” The wrestling coach stepped up onto a nearby bench and whistled. Two freshmen with new hearing augments winced and covered their ears. He waited for the din to lessen and tapped his wrist, activating the ceiling's vid projector. Thanks to Title IV of the Powerds Integration Act, blah blah blah,” he rolled his eyes and two of the older Powerds glared at him. “We’re down to one boy’s team this year with space for five Traditionals.”

Five? Logan's stomach dropped to his feet. There had been fifteen Traditionals in last year’s team plus four alternates. He scanned the room as the coach called out the new team’s roster. Jake and Kirthi high fived behind the coach, reaching nearly his height now with the summer’s growth injections taking effect. Ben stood in the corner, dark shades covering new eyes.

Logan's mouth went dry when he realized he was the last of the Traditionals team who hadn’t yet been augmented. Tim wasn’t there, of course, though Logan saw him from time to time between classes, slouched in his motorized chair, waiting for the school’s singular elevator.

“And… Sanders,” the coach finished. Thirty four sets of eyes whipped over to him and Logan tried to stand a little taller. And tried to ignore the other student’s murmurs.

“It’ll be a good year, Coach,” he said.

Coach Roberts nodded, eyes fixed at a spot just above his head. “Suit up, boys. I want you all out and sparring in pairs in five.” 

Logan kept his eyes trained down and focused on his own preparations as the locker room exploded in activity. Laughter and slamming doors rattled his teeth, the usual scramble to shed street clothes and don stretchy singlets—or, in the case of several boys, trade in for the next size up—no longer lending him its usual energizing buzz.

The day wasn't finished with him yet. With an odd number of Traditionals on the team, it was a simple matter of the math not mathing to require a Traditional to that be paired with a Powered.

Coach Roberts patted Logan’s shoulder as he stepped up to his side of the mat. “Look, Sanders, do your best out there. No-one expects much more than that from you.”

Logan looked up into Coach Robert’s camera-ringed irises. “Y—yes, Coach,” he nodded and turned to face his opponent. The coach had at least tried to give him a chance, matching Logan with a Powered in the same weight class.

But how much did weight class really matter when your opponent’s muscles powered a skeleton stronger than titanium? When your opponent could sense your thoughts, predicting your every move?

He managed to stay on his feet for the first round. Until, at least, his sparring partner grew bored and stopped tamping down on his other abilities. In seconds, Logan was down, face jammed into the mat. He struggled but his opponent countered each twist, each desperate attempt to break free. Finally, Logan tapped out.

The Powered—a new student Logan hadn’t even learned his name—loomed over him. “Good job.” He tonelessly repeated the team’s end of match phrase and looked around for his next partner.

Logan pushed up to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. “Best two out of three.”

~

“Time?” Logan panted, controller shaking in his grip as he brought the mech's hands together in the ready signal. He’d boosted the suit’s stabilizers, so from the outside, at least, his durasteel arms moved smoothly. But Logan knew. 

“219.8 seconds. Better,” V smiled encouragingly but the flatness in his tone and the twitch in his eyebrow said it all. Logan still took entirely too long to properly suit up. 

He deflated, leaned to one side in the mech’s cavity. Logan pulled in a shaking breath, fighting to slow his panting, and nodded. “Indeed. Better.” Better but not enough.

"Get your bearings and we’ll go again,” V suggested, still smiling as he passed him a towel. It was only then Logan noticed he was drenched, sweat dripping from his hair and soaking through his shirt.

Logan smiled his thanks—tried to, at least, and V nodded again, a bottle of electrolyte ready. His smile grew, just a bit. He hadn't yet exhausted V's patience. Logan would keep going for as long as he was willing to help him.

V looked up when Patton approached from the kitchen, hugging a large crate to his burly chest. The scents of strawberries and fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies intermingled in the air as he stopped. He shifted the box to one arm to wave at them. “I’m headed, ah…” He waggled his head vaguely toward the hall and Logan’s brow furrowed before understanding struck.

“Is he…” V frowned and swiped across his tablet, searching. Trying not to be obvious, Logan peeked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of The Muse’s hallway on the screen.

“No, he—nothing’s wrong. Just…” Patton shrugged and looked down at the crate. “After yesterday, I…”

Hesper’s cryptic words from last night filled Logan’s mind. “What makes you think I didn’t trigger your alarms so I could have a little company… just like Re used to?”

“Can I help?” Logan blurted out before looking down at his useless half a hand, his broken body. His face burned, stomach knotted in shame at his utter uselessness.

Patton’s smile was gentle. “Um, that’s okay, Kiddo. I got this.” He didn’t bother to ask how precisely Logan thought he could help in a room he couldn’t reach in his mech. In a room he couldn’t even enter without assistance. Still holding the giant crate of food with one arm, he gently squeezed Logan’s—not the mech’s—shoulder. “But thanks. I’ll let you both get back to your drills.”

He gave them another little wave then headed down the hall. Listening to the elevator door open then swish closed, Logan finished his drink and passed V the empty bottle.

“Ready?” he asked, switching back to his timer.

“Yes.” Logan lowered the mech to a crouch and began to climb out. But Patton's arrival broke the dam on the flood of questions from last night. In his distraction, he nearly fell out of the cavity. “Well… wait.” He met V’s questioning glance. “What did Hesper mean… about The Prince as a little boy? Did he… Did Hesper know him back then?” V scowled down at his tablet but Logan pushed on. “Is that why he called The Muse, ‘Re?’”

Tapping at the screen, V started to speak, then his jaw clamped shut. He let out a slow breath before looking back at Logan. “It’s not really my story to tell. I…” He sighed again. 

For a moment, Logan feared V would try sending him to The Prince with his questions. “Yeah,” V said at last. “Yeah, there’s… there’s a history. You…” V winced and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Maybe ask Silvertongue… um… later, though.” He nodded like it was obvious why he should wait. “You know?”

Was there more to Silvertongue’s outburst last night, too? “I’ll wait,” he promised. “Thank—thank you.” 

“Yeah.” V blew out a short breath and returned his attention to the tablet. “Ready for another go?”

Logan dropped the last foot or so, hitting the ground with a barely muffled groan. He climbed up into his chair, replicating his starting point. “I’m ready,” he said, looking up at the suit.

V stared at him for a long moment. “You know, maybe…” He looked away when Logan tried to meet his eyes, tugging at his sleeves.

“Maybe what?” Logan prompted, bracing himself for what passed for yet another bit of ‘constructive’ criticism.

“Maybe you just need to work on your strength a bit,” he said with a little shrug. “If you want, I could show you how to modify a couple of the machines in the fitness center to—”

“Show me.”

That was how Logan ended up strapped to the pull-up machine in the team’s fitness center, the bright automated trainer chirping out his reps into a sweat-proof earpiece. “And twenty. Good job! You’ve finished your workout—”

“Again!” Logan snapped, tugging at the bar as the platform lowered him to the floor.

“You have completed your recommended three sets of twenty, Logan,” the interface chirped back. Though its tone never changed, Logan couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of his own name. Constructed from heavily modded tech ‘borrowed’ from Abracadabra, the interface sounded just like the old assignment program back at the distribution center. 

“I don’t care. Again!” He batted at the controls with the end of his left stump but the panel went dark.

“I am unable to comply with your request.” The artificial voice switched over to the main speakers when it ended his session, like it wanted a witness. “Please try again tomorrow.”

“You’re better off arguing with the refridgerator, Tin Man,” the Prince chuckled from the corner.

“How long have you been watching me?” Logan snapped, face warm. While the automated trainer didn’t record his strained grunts during his workout, the Prince was the absolute last person he’d want to hear him struggling to do a simple pull-up.

The Prince lifted a barbell packed with 300 pounds on either side. The weight floated up to his chin, before he raised it up above his head and back down to the floor in one perfect, flowing motion.

The weights didn’t even clank when they touched the mat.

“Long enough to see you max out your reps,” he said, barely pausing for his own weight routine. “Hit the showers or something.”

“I’m not done,” Logan muttered, pushing himself off the platform. Fatigued muscles trembling under the strain, he dropped faster than he’d planned, landing with a pained grunt as his hip grazed the base of the pull up machine. 

“Don’t tell me it’s leg day for you.”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Logan muttered, hiding his face until he could control the shameful quiver in his chin. “With wit like that, it’s little wonder you’re the brains of the team. Oh, no, wait—You’re not.”

The Prince shrugged and spared him any further conversation, instead loading on another 100 pound plate to each side of his dumbbell. Shaking his head, Logan pulled himself into his chair and moved to the far corner of the fitness room, keeping as many weight machines between him and The Prince as he could.

When he’d found a suitable place, he lowered himself to the floor again, taking it slowly this time. Laying flat on his back with his chair in front of him, he wedged his thighs between the front and back wheels, bracing his lower body for crunches.

It worked well. For a while, at least. To remain steady, Logan had to tighten his abductors with each crunch, pushing against the wheels to keep them—and himself—from rocking with the movement.

He pushed on, the chair straining against its emergency brakes with each rep. Finally, the brake snapped free and the chair flipped back.

“Fuck.” Logan pounded his fist and the back of his head against the mat and lay back, eyes closed, as he gathered the strength to push the chair upright. With any luck, the Prince had already finished his strongman routine and left the gym.

Logan was not a lucky man.

“Need a hand?”

Logan glared up at him from the floor.

“Oh, shit, yeah…” He shuffled closer, ears tinged pink as he avoided looking at Logan’s stump. “I—I didn’t mean that one. I swear.” He gestured at the overturned wheelchair. “Can I help?”

“I’ve got it,” Logan muttered, pushing up and wiggling closer to the chair. He rolled onto his belly then wormed his way into the gap between the back of the chair and the floor. Once he’d gotten most of his body underneath it, he wedged his right hand under his chest and pushed up sharply.

It took two more tries but finally the chair tilted forward and Logan twisted with it, grabbing the strap criss-crossing the back of the chair to steady it before it tipped completely forward.

“Damn,” the Prince murmured.

“You’re still here?” Logan leaned against the seat back, panting, and in no way ready to either resume his crunches or climb into the chair.

The Prince shifted his weight from side to side, one foot pointed toward the door, the other toward him. Finally, he dropped to the floor and sat about two feet away. Jerking his chin toward the chair, he shrugged. “What were you even doing to knock over that beast?”

Logan eyed The Prince and considered ignoring his question. If he really was that nosy, he could just as easily pull up the security footage and that might be worse than simply hearing about it. Sighing, Logan let his eyes fall closed. “I was using it to brace my… legs for abdominal crunches. The other machine's not built for me.”

The Prince made a little choked sound in the back of his throat. Not a laugh, but…

Eyes still shut, Logan wiggled back into position and prepared himself for another set. If he could increase his core strength, maybe the one-armed pull-ups would get easier faster.

Logan’s eyes snapped open when he felt movement next to him. The Prince had moved closer, knelt on the floor only about a half-foot away, hands laying open on his lap. His expression was unreadable.

“Lay your legs against mine. I’ll brace you,” he said, patting the tops of his thighs and glancing down at where Logan’s legs ended. To the Prince’s credit, the usual mix of pity and disgust flashing over his features didn’t last long.

The Prince waited, holding his gaze until, finally, Logan nodded. He moved a little closer, but let Logan be the one to move close enough to touch and set his legs in place. “May I?” he asked, holding his hands over the tops of Logan’s thighs.

“Go—” Logan cleared his throat, the vulnerability of his position seizing the muscles in his neck. If he'd wanted to, The Prince could pick him up and fling him against the wall and not even break a sweat. “Go ahead,” he finally croaked out. With flat, open hands, The Prince pressed against his legs, holding him in place.

“I’ll let go the moment you tell me to,” the Prince said, then fell silent as Logan resumed his crunches.

He loathed to admit it, but focusing on only one set of muscles made the crunches almost enjoyable. Almost. “This helps,” Logan grunted. “Immensely.” He forced himself up for another two crunches. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” The Prince replied, repeating his own words back at him from last night's skirmish with Hesper.

Logan pushed out the last of the set and lay back, counting down a thirty second rest period. He lifted up again and silently worked through another set. He slowed as he neared the end, muscles screaming in protest. “Why…" The temptation to ask The Prince about his history with Hesper—and about Re—was great. He shifted to the next question bubbling in his mind instead. "What are you helping me, anyway? I thought… I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t—” The twitch in The Prince’s jaw told Logan he very much did. “We’re a team,” he shrugged at last. “If you’re stronger, we’re all stronger. C’mon, Iron Man, that all you got?" Did Logan only imagine a smile behind his eyes? "Gimme three more.”

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #19: AJ Suede

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Suede God. Do your homework on my double digits of projects. 

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I write any and everywhere when inspiration strikes. I get some of my best work done on public transportation. In the past, I've written my best hooks on the drives to and from jobs. Nowadays, it’s more about atmosphere than location.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

Notes pad but not limited to that. If I could, I’d do the Jay-Z thing and memorize bar-for-bar, but at this point I just write everything down so I don’t forget.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I write in ways that are more like mathematical equations. Time signatures, iambic pentameter, and rhyme schemes I vaguely remember from smoking before my 10th grade English class in the Shakespeare unit. That mixed with the fundamentals. It’s all math. 

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Complicated question because even the “bad” stuff can be repurposed when it’s in season. Some of the bars might not flow because of time and place, but that’s always subject to change and vice versa.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

There are things that I want to do, but I don’t wanna say preemptively. I’d rather show if I end up being serious about it.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

I don’t often edit verses, but the longest part of all the album processes are the mix and master. Especially for the self-produced projects.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

There’s no right answer. Every song and beat combination requires different things. I do prefer to write to a beat 90% of the time, but sometimes you unlock new pockets when you write in silence and puzzle piece it together.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

No comment. Can’t demystify the whole process.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

Anything goes based on what the beat demands. I like to be like water; my style is similar to Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune Do. It’s a mixture of all the fundamentals, but I assume formlessness based on the musical situation. The stronger the foundation, the more flows and schemes you have access to. It’s just a matter of where and when each style is going to present itself.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

I love all my kids, but always proud of the verse that I haven’t written yet. That will be the best one every time.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

I wholeheartedly wish I could. I’ll leave that to the people.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

Yes, I do feel strongly about punch-ins. I will restart a whole verse before I allow myself to punch-in. I can always hear the punch-in, even on other artists' songs. If you have to punch-in a million times, your live show is going to be a disaster. Punch-in artists often perform with their vocals playing over the instrumental. A real lack of breath control. If you’re doing it from an artistic standpoint, call-and-response etc., I understand. 

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

I would be here all day. I love a lot of music.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

I’ve spent less time with self-doubt than most others, but it is a very natural feeling. I believe in what I can do and I’m validated by most of our favorite rappers, so I know I’m dope.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

ABSOLUTELY NOBODY. We all start off similar in one way or another from childhood influences, but I been in the game a long enough time that my rap DNA is 100% my own.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

I just want to make the best music and let that speak for itself. I don’t have any concerns in the rap world. I just want to make a living off the music and take care of my own. 

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: unknown (hit me up)

[scottguy]

The yearly national "standards" tests are the worst thing to happen to education in America. The idea of standards is fine. There should be standards for consistency and to help guide teachers.

But, it's all driven by the testing lobby, which makes big money and now it doesn't even have to print anything, as it's all done on computers. (But I'm sure it's still every bit as expensive.)

Conservative politicians love it cause they can use low test scores to hammer schools and to promote private education as superior.

Still, beyond testing...the biggest problem with "essential standards" and testing is that *many* otherwise pointless topics get taught (and precious class time wasted) ONLY because those arbitrary standards were created and then put "on the test" and not because they're at all particularly useful to know. Teaching things that are on the test is fine if the subjects on the test are worthy, but the essential standards tested Are determined by a testing company who have far too many "essential" standards to choose from.

The list of "essential standards",which are NEVER written by actual teachers or with developmental appropriatenss in mind, are instead, written by ivory tower academics in universities completely out of touch with public K-12 education. The "essential standards" lists end up so hopelessly bloated that even gifted teachers have to intentionally ignore the most obscure and tangential "essential standards" to make sure students have class time to learn truly FOUNDATIONAL standards such as the type that future concept (especially math but also other STEM courses) understanding will rest upon.

It's easy to imagine how this bloating happens.

You get a bunch of academics in the room and they keep trying to one up each other with how thorough they can be covering every conceivable concept in their favorite subject.

Also, nobody wants to be accused of setting the bar too low and having insufficient expectations. So they badly err in the other direction. This is a disservice to teachers and to public education because some teachers are going to choose to ignore different things, making the idea of "standards" almost meaningless.

The standards should at least be labeled as foundational, intermediate, and helpful as most to least crucial. But, no, they're ALL "essential." 🙄

They forget it is possible to make the word "essential" utterly meaningless when nothing is prioritized.

[shielddefenceacademy24]

Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes

Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes in Lucknow with Hostel

Choosing the right path early in life can make all the difference. If you’re a student dreaming of joining the Indian Armed Forces through the NDA route, then getting the right foundation is not just helpful—it’s essential. The journey begins much before the actual NDA exam. It begins with the Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes in cities like Lucknow, which offer more than just academic coaching—they shape future officers.

What Is NDA Foundation Coaching?

Foundation vs. Regular NDA Coaching

Regular NDA coaching often begins after Class 12, but NDA Foundation Coaching is specially designed for students in Classes 9, 10, and 11. It focuses on long-term preparation—academic excellence along with physical training and personality development.

Who Should Join NDA Foundation Courses?

If you’re a student between the age of 14-17 and are determined to crack the NDA exam in your first attempt, this course is tailor-made for you. It builds your core subjects—Maths, English, and GK—and develops your officer-like qualities from an early age.

Why Lucknow Is Emerging as a Defence Coaching Hub

Growing Popularity of Defence Services Among Youth

More and more students now aspire to wear the uniform and serve the nation. The respect, discipline, and career growth offered by the defence services are unmatched.

Why Students Prefer Lucknow for NDA Prep

Lucknow has become a hub for defence aspirants due to its affordable education, experienced faculty, and quality institutions. The city offers some of the Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes equipped with modern training methods and hostel facilities.

Key Features of Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes

Comprehensive Curriculum

These institutes offer a well-structured NDA Foundation program that combines academic curriculum with defence prep.

Expert Faculty & Mentors

From retired defence officers to subject matter experts, the teaching staff plays a huge role in grooming students holistically.

Physical Training and Discipline

Discipline is the core of every defence aspirant’s life. Daily PT, fitness tests, and obstacle training are integrated into the schedule.

Importance of Hostel Facilities for NDA Aspirants

Structured Lifestyle for Defence Aspirants

A hostel provides a routine similar to military life, which helps students adapt to a disciplined lifestyle from an early stage.

Safety and Supervision

24/7 security, wardens, and staff ensure a safe environment for learning and growth.

Peer Learning Environment

Students learn teamwork, leadership, and healthy competition while living with like-minded aspirants.

Overview of Shield Defence Academy

Legacy and Background

Shield Defence Academy is one of the Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes in Lucknow. With years of experience and hundreds of successful cadets, Shield has built a name based on trust and results.

Specialization in NDA Foundation Coaching

While many institutes offer NDA coaching, Shield Defence Academy specializes in Foundation Courses with integrated schooling and hostel, making it a complete package for young aspirants.

Unique Features of Shield Defence Academy

Integrated Schooling + Coaching

Students don’t need to worry about missing school. Shield provides CBSE-aligned classes along with NDA training.

Military-Like Routine

From morning PT to lights-out at night, the schedule is strict but productive—perfectly aligned with the NDA lifestyle.

Regular PT, Obstacle Training, and SSB Prep

All-round development is key. Shield ensures students are NDA-ready not just on paper but in personality too.

Hostel Facilities at Shield Defence Academy

In-campus Hostel with Round-the-Clock Supervision

Located within the campus, the hostel offers safety, convenience, and a focused environment.

Hygienic Food and Medical Facilities

Balanced meals, timely snacks, and in-house medical staff keep the students healthy and active.

Mentorship and Evening Doubt Sessions

Evenings are reserved for revision, doubt-clearing, and personality enhancement sessions.

Academic Curriculum for NDA Foundation Course

CBSE/ICSE-Aligned Syllabus

Whether you’re from CBSE or ICSE, Shield’s curriculum matches your board, ensuring no academic loss.

Dedicated English, Maths, and GK Training

Special attention is given to NDA subjects with additional classes and mock tests.

Physical Fitness Training Module

Daily Morning PT Sessions

Every morning starts with physical training—running, drills, yoga, and more.

Weekend Obstacle Course and Group Tasks

Group obstacle training develops endurance, coordination, and leadership.

Personality Development & SSB Preparation

Communication Skills & Interview Prep

Public speaking, extempore, and mock interviews are a regular part of training.

Psychology & Group Discussion Sessions

Students learn how to express ideas confidently and think like future officers.

Student Testimonials & Results

Toppers from Previous Batches

Year after year, Shield Defence Academy produces NDA qualifiers with top ranks.

Success Stories

From small towns to NDA, students share how Shield changed their lives forever.

Admission Process and Fee Structure

Entrance Test & Personal Interview

Admission is based on merit. Students have to clear a basic written test and an interview.

Scholarships and Discounts

Deserving students can avail of merit scholarships and fee waivers based on performance.

Why Shield Defence Academy Tops the List of Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes

Balanced Focus on Academics and Defence Training

Very few institutes offer this perfect blend of education and military prep like Shield does.

Affordable with Value-Added Services

Compared to other Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes, Shield offers maximum return on investment with its inclusive facilities.

Conclusion

If your goal is to crack the NDA exam in the first attempt and you’re currently in school, there’s no better time to start. And no better place than Shield Defence Academy in Lucknow. It’s more than just coaching—it’s a launchpad for future officers. From rigorous academics to real-time physical training and a disciplined hostel life, Shield provides everything a young cadet needs.

So, don’t wait. Join one of the Top NDA Foundation Coaching Institutes today—Shield Defence Academy.

[ndachd]

NDA Exam Coaching in Pune: Mastering NDA Mathematics Tips from India’s Leading Defence Academy

One of the most essential topics covered throughout the NDA written test is mathematics. It can raise your overall score and is worth 300 marks. Although math is challenging for many students, you can achieve high scores with the correct approach and practice. Based on the expertise of leading defense trainers, we will offer straightforward and practical advice in this blog on how to master NDA mathematics. Know the Syllabus First Make sure you are familiar with the entire NDA maths syllabus before beginning your preparation. Concentrate on subjects such as probability, calculus, matrices and determinants, algebra, trigonometry, and mensuration. List the chapters and indicate your strong and weak points.

Start Early for Better Results Early preparation gives students more time to learn the fundamentals. For this reason, many students join NDA Coaching in Pune after the tenth grade. You won't feel pressured in Class 12 because it helps you cover the school syllabus and NDA math. Consistent practice, beginning at an early age, fosters clarity and confidence. Clear Your Concepts Direct memorization won't help with NDA maths. You must comprehend the ideas underlying formulas. For instance, learn how to calculate the area of a triangle and when to use it rather than just the formula. Clear conceptual understanding lowers exam errors. Practice Daily Regular practice is necessary for math. Aim to complete 20–30 questions from various chapters every day. Make use of past year's papers and practice exams. Write difficult questions in a notebook and go over them again before tests. Time Management is Key You have only 150 minutes to complete the exam's 120 questions. Use mental math tricks and shortcuts to solve problems more quickly. Avoid tough inquiries in the initial round and come back to them later. Avoid spending too much time on just one issue. Join the Right Support System Getting the right advice facilitates the speedy resolution of doubts. Nowadays, a lot of students opt for online coaching for the NDA exam in order to have access to knowledgeable instructors, live sessions, and anytime doubt clarification. To monitor progress, online platforms also provide test series and real-time feedback. Remain motivated, practice frequently, and maintain your focus. The proper method makes handling NDA maths simple. Gaining mathematical proficiency can significantly impact your NDA outcome. Regardless of whether you study in a center or online, the right preparation and work will get you closer to your objective. You can get the flexibility and professional assistance you need to succeed with online NDA exam coaching.

[bestschooldubai]

CBSE Curriculum Schools in Dubai: What Makes Them Stand Out?

Upon consideration of deciding where to place your child in school, curriculum is the first thing that crosses your mind. For Indian expatriate communities in the UAE, the most appropriate curriculum is that of the Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE). Schools with the CBSE curriculum in Dubai have been enjoying a good reputation over the years of their well-organized system of education, high academic standards, and overall development.

But why are the majority of schools not similar to each other? Let us ponder over what are the reasons why parents choose the CBSE curriculum schools in Dubai for their kids.

1. A Well-Structured and Familiar Curriculum

CBSE is an extremely popular education board that is not only popular in India but also internationally. It boasts a clean and uniform education pattern from Kindergarten to 12th Class. Curriculum is designed in a way that it gives strong foundation skills in Math, Science, and English with thinking and problem-solving abilities.

CBSE curriculum schools in Dubai are also on the same line as providing good education to the students at the international level. It is particularly beneficial to the parents who may return to India or shift to some other nation, as the CBSE board is accepted in nearly all nations.

2. All Round Development

Contrary to the traditional method of learning through practice, the CBSE schools work towards developing the whole personality of the child. This involves studies, sports, creative arts, leadership, and life skills. Most of the Dubai schools offering the CBSE curriculum offer a wide array of extracurricular activities through which children can determine their vocation of choice as well as their aptitude outside the classroom.

From music clubs and debating to social service and robotics, such schools actually stand in the way of creating well-rounded human beings.

3. Student-Centered Teaching Techniques

Student-centered and active learning are encouraged by CBSE. The most updated teaching aids, such as smart classrooms, computer labs, and learning portals, are also used by CBSE Dubai schools for interactive learning. Even teachers are trained to develop curiosity, confidence, and creativity among students.

This kind of education of children makes them learn the things in the right manner and they use them practically. Thus, students become independent learners and lifelong learners.

4. Focus on Exams and Competitive Admission Tests

CBSE syllabus is well-known for making the students exam-oriented to face major board exams at Grades 10 and 12. University entrance exams, as they are popularly referred to in the UAE, India, and other places, are simply board exams. CBSE schools also give career guidance and coaching classes in competitive exams for college admissions, such as NEET, JEE, and SAT, which provide the students with an extra push.

This intense academic concentration is perhaps the most compelling explanation as to why cbse curriculum schools in dubai relies on parents wishing children to perform well in the long term and at a higher level.

5. Cultural Comfort and Value-Based Education

For Indian parents living in Dubai, CBSE-recognized schools offer value education and cultural security. Indian tradition, language, and culture are promoted so that the children remain rooted in their own culture despite living in a multicultural society.

Final Thoughts

It is a decision of the past, and for most of them, schools in Dubai following the CBSE curriculum are the perfect blend of learning, personal growth, and cosmopolitanism. Whether your child is beginning school for the first time or higher levels of learning, these schools provide them with the perfect platform for future success.

Be patient, do your homework well, go to schools, speak with teachers, and select the best school that can take your child. Learning today can open tomorrow's doors.

[educationhub6]

🧮📘 Applied Maths Made Easy with EDUCATION HUB! 🎯💡

Do terms like Matrices, Probability, or Time Value of Money sound tough? We simplify it all — and help you score high in Mathematics/Applied Maths with concept clarity & smart tricks! 💥

📐 What You’ll Learn with Us: 🔹 Linear Equations, Functions & Limits – explained step-by-step 🔹 Matrices & Determinants – simplified with logic & visuals 🔹 Statistics & Probability – real-life based application 🔹 Differentiation & Integration – scoring chapters made easy 🔹 Business Math – Time Value of Money, Index Numbers, more!

📝 Weekly Practice Sheets, Mock Tests, Concept Boosters 🎯 Designed specially for Class 11 & 12 Commerce Students (CBSE)

🎁 BONUS GIFT: Comment “MATHS PRO” to get a FREE Short Note + Formula Booklet PDF

📞 Join now — Offline & Online Coaching Available 👨‍🏫 Get your FREE Trial Class today!

#EducationHub #AppliedMaths #CommerceMaths #Class11Maths #Class12Maths #CBSECommerce #MathsPro #CommerceCoaching

[nextlaw]

As someone who has defended thousands of stunt driving cases, I'm often asked about demerit points. Let me address the biggest misconception upfront: demerit points are the absolute least of your concerns with a stunt driving charge. Why? Because if you're convicted of stunt driving, you'll lose your license for a minimum of one year. During that suspension, demerit points become completely irrelevant. By the time you get your license back, you're already halfway to the points expiring. The Demerit Point System: What It Actually Is According to the Ontario Ministry of Transportation, demerit points are simply an administrative tracking system: - Stunt driving conviction = 6 demerit points - Points remain on record for 2 years from the offence date - Courts have zero jurisdiction over demerit points - ServiceOntario automatically assigns points after conviction *Source: Ontario Ministry of Transportation, Driver's Handbook The Timeline That Makes Points Irrelevant Event Timeline Demerit Point Status Charged with Stunt Driving Day 0 No points yet Convicted 6-12 months later 6 points assigned License Suspended Upon conviction Points active but useless Suspension Ends 1 year minimum Points halfway to expiry Points Expire 2 years from offence date Clean record Demerit Points vs. Insurance: The Myth The Insurance Bureau of Canada is clear on this matter: "Insurance companies do not use the demerit point system to calculate premiums. They assess risk based on convictions, claims history, and other actuarial factors. The number of demerit points assigned to a conviction is irrelevant to insurance rating. *Source: Insurance Bureau of Canada, How Auto Insurance Premiums Are Calculated What Insurance Companies Actually Look At According to the Financial Services Regulatory Authority of Ontario (FSRA), insurers consider: - The conviction itself (not the points) - Type of offence (minor, major, serious) - Number of convictions - At-fault accidents - Years of driving experience Demerit points are notably absent from this list. *Source: FSRA, Automobile Insurance Rating and Underwriting Guidelines ServiceOntario's Demerit Point Thresholds The Ministry of Transportation's official thresholds show why points don't matter during suspension: License Class Warning Letter Interview Suspension Full License (G) 9 points 15 points 15+ points Novice (G1/G2) N/A 6 points 9+ points *Source: Ontario Regulation 340/94 under the Highway Traffic Act But here's the reality: if you're convicted of stunt driving, you're already suspended for a year minimum. These thresholds become meaningless. Using Nextlaw's Resources Our Stunt Driving Penalty Test focuses on what really matters—avoiding conviction and the mandatory suspension. Demerit points are addressed, but in proper perspective. For immediate assistance with your defense strategy, our Stunt Driving 24/7 Helpline prioritizes the consequences that actually impact your life. Real Client Success Story Dan, Jon did amazing job with my stunt driving charge. They got all my charges removed. I'm really happy with the result. Guys are really professional and deal with issues promptly. Very responsive and always there to help. I called them for help and they just not only helped me with my driving charge but also gave me a bunch of advice for free. I would definitely recommend them for any driving offence you face. It's worth paying them for the quality of work they provide. - Saksham T. The Court's Role (Or Lack Thereof) in Demerit Points The Highway Traffic Act makes it clear: - Courts determine guilt or innocence - Courts impose fines and suspensions - Courts have NO authority over demerit points - ServiceOntario automatically assigns points post-conviction Judges cannot reduce, waive, or modify demerit points. They're a purely administrative consequence. Why Points Don't Matter: The Math Let's examine the timeline: - Conviction: 6 demerit points assigned - Suspension: 1-3 years (license invalid) - Points expire: 2 years from offence date - Reality: Points often expire before you can drive again During your suspension, you could accumulate 100 demerit points—it wouldn't matter because you can't drive anyway. The Real Consequences That Matter While everyone worries about 6 demerit points, here's what actually impacts your life: Consequence Duration Impact on Life License Suspension 1-3 years Cannot drive at all Criminal Record None (quasi-criminal) No criminal record Insurance Impact 3-6 years Major - 300%+ increases Demerit Points 2 years Minimal - can't drive anyway Focus on What Matters In my decades of defending stunt driving cases, I've never had a client whose life was impacted by the 6 demerit points. Every single one was devastated by the license suspension. Insurance companies confirm they don't use demerit points. Courts can't modify them. They expire while you're suspended. So why worry about them? The Strategic Reality The only way to avoid demerit points is to avoid conviction. But if you're focused on the points, you're missing the real battle. The mandatory suspension, insurance consequences, and life disruption are what destroy people's lives—not 6 administrative points in a government database. Perspective Is Everything Yes, a stunt driving conviction means 6 demerit points. But those points are largely symbolic when you've lost your license for a year or more. By the time you're driving again, the points are almost expired. Don't waste energy worrying about demerit points. Focus on avoiding conviction and the mandatory suspension that actually affects your life. For a realistic assessment of consequences that truly matter, use our Stunt Driving Penalty Test. For strategic guidance on avoiding conviction entirely, contact our 24/7 Helpline. Remember: demerit points are the least of your worries. Focus on keeping your license. *Disclaimer: All information about demerit points is from official Ontario government sources including the Ministry of Transportation and Highway Traffic Act regulations. Legal outcomes vary by case. Read the full article

[geniustutorials]

How to Prepare for Quantitative Aptitude for IPMAT 2026

The Quantitative Aptitude section of the IPMAT (Integrated Program in Management Aptitude Test) plays a crucial role in determining your final score and admission to top IIMs like IIM Indore and IIM Rohtak. Known for its conceptual depth and tricky application-based questions, this section often becomes a deciding factor for many aspirants.

To excel in IPMAT 2026, students must develop strong calculation skills, clear conceptual understanding, and smart time management strategies. From Algebra and Number System to Time-Speed-Distance and Data Interpretation, each topic demands focused preparation and consistent practice.

Whether you’re attending IPMAT coaching online in Delhi NCR, studying at a local institute, or following self-study routines, building the right foundation in Quant is essential. Institutes like Genius Tutorials, recognized as the best coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR, emphasize not just solving problems, but understanding patterns, improving accuracy, and building speed which is exactly what you need to ace this section.

If you’re aiming for IIM after class 12, here’s how you can build a rock-solid preparation plan for Quantitative Aptitude and gain the competitive edge you need.

Understanding the IPMAT Quantitative Aptitude Section

The Quantitative Aptitude section in IPMAT mainly checks your mathematical problem-solving ability, logic, and time management skills. It typically includes questions from the following topics:

The questions are a mix of MCQs (Multiple Choice Questions) and short answer type questions, and the difficulty level is generally higher than school-level maths.

Step-by-Step Strategy to Prepare for Quantitative Aptitude

1. Build Strong Basics

Start with strengthening your fundamentals. Use NCERT books (Class 9 to 12) for basic understanding. Ensure you’re comfortable with basic operations, formulas, and concepts.

Tip: Revise tables, squares, cubes, and percentage-to-fraction conversions. This helps in faster calculations.

2. Follow a Topic-Wise Study Plan

Break your preparation into small parts. Dedicate 2–3 days for each topic initially, depending on your comfort level.

Example Study Plan:

Stick to the schedule and revise weekly.

3. Practice Daily

Solving questions daily builds speed and accuracy. Begin with easy problems, then move to moderate and difficult levels.

Use previous year papers.

Practice IPMAT mock tests weekly.

Try to solve 20–30 QA questions daily.

If you’re struggling with consistency, consider joining the best coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR, Genius Tutorials offers expert support and doubt-solving.

4. Understand the Tricks and Shortcuts

Shortcuts help in saving time during the exam. Learn Vedic Maths techniques, approximation methods, and elimination strategies.

Learn to eliminate options.

Understand when to guess and when not to.

Avoid long calculations where estimation works.

Genius Tutorials, offering IPMAT coaching online in Delhi NCR, covers smart techniques and time-saving hacks in their live classes and workshops.

5. Take Mock Tests and Analyze

Mock tests simulate the actual exam environment. Take sectional mock tests and full-length IPMAT mock tests every week.

After every mock, analyze your performance.

Identify weak areas and improve them.

Track your progress regularly.

6. Clear Doubts Immediately

Don’t pile up your doubts. If you’re preparing alone, refer to YouTube videos or forums. But for best results, enroll in a reputed IPMAT preparation coaching in Delhi NCR where mentors can help you 1-on-1.

Key Tips to Crack Quantitative Aptitude in IPMAT 2026

Time Management: Divide time wisely. Don’t stick to one tough question for long.

Accuracy Over Attempt: Focus on solving correctly. IPMAT has negative marking.

Short Notes & Formula Book: Maintain a notebook with all formulas and shortcuts.

Revision: Weekly revision is a must to keep concepts fresh in your mind.

Stay Motivated: Keep your final goal in mind-admission to IIM-and stay focused.

Benefits of IPMAT Coaching Online in Delhi NCR You Shouldn’t Ignore

While self-study is effective, coaching offers:

If you are looking for the best coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR, Genius Tutorials provides offline and online batches, expert mentors, mock test series, and result-oriented programs. They also offer IPMAT coaching online in Delhi NCR, perfect for students who prefer learning from home without compromising on quality.

Join Genius Tutorials — The Best Coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR

Genius Tutorials is widely known for its IPMAT preparation coaching in Delhi NCR. With experienced faculty, interactive classes, and personalized attention, it’s the go-to place for serious aspirants.

Why Choose Genius Tutorials?

Proven track record of results

Topic-wise lectures and practice

Personalized mentorship

Live + recorded classes

Daily doubt sessions

Ready to crack IPMAT 2026? Join Genius Tutorials — the best coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR today!

FAQs — Quantitative Aptitude for IPMAT 2026

Q1. How tough is the Quant section in IPMAT?

The Quantitative Aptitude section is moderately to highly difficult. It requires strong fundamentals and quick problem-solving skills.

Q2. Can I crack the IPMAT without coaching?

Yes, but coaching helps you stay disciplined, get expert support, and practice with high-quality questions. For best results, combine self-study with the best IPMAT coaching online in Delhi NCR like Genius Tutorials.

Q3. How many questions should I practice daily for Quant?

Start with 20–30 questions per day. Gradually increase the number and practice mixed topic questions once basics are covered.

Q4. Is 6 months enough to prepare for IPMAT Quantitative Aptitude?

Yes, 6 months is sufficient with proper planning, regular practice, and mock test analysis.

Conclusion

Preparing for Quantitative Aptitude in IPMAT 2026 needs focus, regular practice, and the right guidance. Stick to the basics, follow a study plan, take mock tests, and stay motivated. With support from the best coaching for IPMAT in Delhi NCR, your dream of getting into IIM can become a reality.Want to boost your IPMAT score? Join Genius Tutorials’ IPMAT coaching online in Delhi NCR and start your journey towards success today!

Originally published at https://www.geniustut.com on June 5, 2025.