#Learn Violin Class

[wickedhawtwexler]

i'm making some moves toward finally learning the cello btw!!!!

[doeyedbambi]

want to start learning the violin again….hm

[orcelito]

Sickening realization that I only have about 5 weeks left of college. Period.

Should be a good thing. It is a good thing, I guess. But it just means things are ending a lot faster than I'd like them to. And I have to start figuring things out Soon.

[the-prophecy]

Girls with trauma 🤝 musical instruments

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

if you’re familiar with black violin or lindsey stirling and can recommend other interesting, high-energy violin-centric artists, please do so! 

my newer playlists were distracting yesterday when i tried to write, and i’m glad i just remembered how perfect black violin used to be for getting me focused, but i’m wondering if there’s more out there i have yet to find.

[odysseys-blood]

realizing i cant watch any kind of show with a band bc i start missing being in orchetra

[tutorsvalleymusic]

How to Pick the Best Virtual Violin Instructor: A Guide by Tutors Valley Music Academy

Learning the violin online has become a popular choice for music enthusiasts who want to master this beautiful instrument from the comfort of their home. With the rise of online violin classes, the options for finding a qualified virtual instructor have never been greater. But how do you choose the best one for you? In this article, we'll walk you through the key factors to consider when selecting the perfect violin instructor and why Tutors Valley Music Academy should be your top choice for instrument music online classes.

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[wickedhawtwexler]

i have a very bad memory. unless it's music related. then i Remember Everything

[bhardwajmusicacademy]

"Fostering Happiness: Mastering the Skill as with a Violin"

Delve into the concept of nurturing joy akin to perfecting violin playing. Just as each musical note requires practice, happiness also demands careful cultivation. Allow the harmonious echoes of violin strings to inspire the journey toward joy, crafting your own symphony of happiness. 🎵🌟

#happiness #joy #harmony #music #musical #practice #violin #learn #lessons #classes #musician #foryou #fyp #reel #reels #video #foryoupage #bhardwajmusicacademy #musiceducation #musicschool #musicinstitute #musicacademy #musiclessons #musicclasses #musica

[orcelito]

1 more day here and then I'm gonna be heading back up to my apartment for the first time in over 2 weeks. Haven't stayed there since this all began. I've grown a bit of a routine here, and I'll be right back to my apartment, but without the prior norms of it.

It's home though. It's home.

I'll have to do a ton of cleaning and rearranging tho to try to fit as much of my father's furniture within my apartment. My apartment is so small and the furnitures so many. I'm determined tho. I'm gonna fit as much as I can. Took measurements today even of all the things I wanna take, so I can puzzle it out as I go.

I. Also. Need to bring June to the vet. Bc she's got worms. Lol. Lmao even. I am trying to not think about it rn.

[blue-arkhamknight]

SKETCHES.

Warning: None. (Damian, Jon, and reader are age ten to make the story a bit more sweeter.)

── .✦

── .★

School wasn’t so bad! If you look at it from Damian’s perspective it’s awesome. He gets to learn AND play music. He’s a very tasked kid, playing about 5 instruments. Impressive isn’t it? Violin, guitar, trumpet, viola, and harmonica. Let me say, he’s proud.

For his age the boy shared a love for classical music. A habit of scrunching his nose when he heard some of the school bands play harsh music. It wasn’t like an abomination or something, but just not his cup of tea. Jon, his friend really was just the opposite. From insulting Mozart to shredding his messy and loud electric guitar in his main solos.

Lunch was one of his favorite parts of the day. The food he got to eat and practicing of his instruments, sounds of the bow hitting the strings of his perfectly tuned instrument. Truly it was heavenly to his ears. “You messed up again.” a voice he had memorized rang in his head like an echo, immediately looking embarrassed with the biggest frown. “I certainly do not mess up. Clean your ears.” he told you with a scowl.

You looked up at him from your sketchbook, doing a sketch piece that you forgot as homework in lunch time while you listened to him play. “But you did- you played C minor instead of D.” you said and pointed at his music sheet. Damian huffed and looked where your finger pointed. “Yeah, I knew that. I was just testing you.” he said, his tone betraying him and saying in a hidden way ‘Yeah I messed up.’.

The assignment you had wasn’t difficult, hence to why you forgot to do it. The instructions were: ‘Draw someone or anything as many times as you liked, but you had to fill the whole page.’ your teacher had spoken in class. Damian tried to peek at your page, failing. Your arm was hiding it like a person who wouldn’t let anyone cheat off their exam. He fairly came to the conclusion that it wasn’t fair. You never showed him your art! He always showed you his paintings and musical errors without hiding them!

He still made no fuzz, no matter how much he wanted to look at the sketchbook he respected that maybe you didn’t feel comfortable with sharing your drawings. Damian understood how most artists were embarrassed of showing their works and that was normal. He continued playing his violin, from playing his piece to playing Howl’s Moving Castle. For a moment you stopped with the pencil strokes.

You mentioned many times before Howl’s Moving Castle, though they were mindless thoughts and some homework doodles. Damian had taken his time to memorize the famous melody in his violin. His gaze was torn between you and his fingers on the violin strings and his other hand on his bow. The gaze was intense, like a stoic way of saying ‘Hey! I learned this for you.’. Other students and teachers paused to look at Damian, ones impressed and others recognizing the tune. Equally, your gaze fixated on him also.

Soon your hand moved on the paper once again, calm with the familiar melody as you drew the familiar boy in front of you with his violin. The drawing wasn’t an exact copy of the moment of course, but it was very clear it was Damian Wayne. That was the reason you didn’t show him your drawings. It would be weird to show your friend he’s secretly your muse. The stop of the music made you look up, his face scrunched up in a way of silently saying that you should be excited. In a quick panic you just clapped your hands, making others that had heard clap along.

It was priceless. His red face full of embarrassment. The claps died down and his face went back to normal slowly. He frowned at you and gave you a huff, “I wished to be appreciated, but not from the whole school.” he stoically stated, exaggerating in the slightest. “Sorry, Wayne.” you said back apologetically, only getting a ���Tt.” from him.

────

“I will walk today, Pennyworth.” the boy addressed the man through the passenger window the butler had rolled down. Alfred was indeed surprised. “Alright, Master Damian. Are you sure you will not even drop your violin in the vehicle?” his father’s butler asked, making Damian open a door and leave the violin case securely on the seat and closing the door again. He ran to his friends (whether he liked to admit it or not, you and Jon were his friends.), stopping right in front of the guitarist and artist.

After a while of friendly banter, Jon waved and walked away. Now being alone with Damian he took a notice of the hour. “I will walk you home.” he stated. Not even a ‘Can I walk you home?’. You didn’t comment on it since you didn’t have a ride home. “Okay, Damian.” you spoke with a grateful nod.

He walked with you to your home, making small talk and getting a few laughs and smiles out of you which were secretly his goal. Damian also carried your lunchbox. It was a habit he got from the first day of school, which you guys met. You had teasingly asked him to carry your lunchbox and he surprisingly did it. Grumpily, but he still did, after that he developed a habit of doing it. As you stepped foot in front of your door step you turned around, looking at the boy as he made a call for Alfred to pick him up. You dropped your bag mindlessly and companied him in front of your own house to wait for his ride.

“Thank you for walking me home.” you thanked, earning a nod from him. “No problem.” he brushed off, setting your lunchbox next to your bookbag and without you noticing he grabbed something from your bookbag and closed the zipper quietly, putting the item on the inside his jacket. “You okay?” you asked after seeing his rapid movements. “Yes, I am alright.” he said looking over at you and pretending to fix the cuffs of his jacket.

Alfred arrived after about 10-20 minutes, stopping right in front of your house. “Bye Damian! See you at school!” you said with a smile and a wave. He returned the wave and a small “Yeah, bye.”. He hopped in the back seat of the car and Alfred rolled down the window. “Thank you for waiting with him.” Alfred said gratefully, “No problem, Alfred. See you soon!” you responded. You knew the Wayne family for a bit now, Alfred and Bruce being very fond of Damian having another friend aside Jon.

You got inside your house when you took your backpack and lunch box and Alfred made sure. The car got out of view once he made sure you were safely inside. Now that Damian was alone he took out the thing he had taken. Your sketchbook. He knew he was doing something very wrong, but curiosity killed the cat. He flipped page through page of your art assignments. There were studies and all, but he mainly saw himself. Damian realized that, one; your drawings were awesome, two; he felt- happy? How would he work this out? …

How would he tell you that he was Robin?

──── ��˚✿˖° ────

──── ⋆˚✿˖° ────

I wrote again!! I need to add more dialogue to my stories and better them. I don’t know if i should continue this.

[marvelousels]

THEY SHOWED ME THINGS, I DIDN’T KNOW

authors note : been on a terribly long writers block and i decided to write this while listening to red wine supernova! this is not proofread and forgive me for how bad this is + smut is not what i can write so js made it an heavy makeout sesh.

pairings : caitvi x fem!reader

red wine supernova by Chappell Roan playing!

It wasn’t like I’d ever been invisible. My teachers loved me, my grades were near-perfect, and I played second violin in the orchestra. People knew my name. But somehow, none of that made me feel seen.

Until Caitlyn Kiramman and Vi walked into my life.

They were the kind of people who didn’t just walk through the halls of Piltover High—they owned them. Caitlyn, with her sharp uniforms, always carrying herself like she was heading to a boardroom rather than her next AP class. And Vi? Well, Vi was everything Caitlyn wasn’t—wild hair, a perpetual smirk, and that leather jacket she wore like a badge of honor. They were opposites, but together, they were magnetic.

And for some reason I still don’t fully understand, they noticed me.

I was sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard, trying to focus on my history notes but mostly just zoning out. That’s when their shadow fell over me.

“You’re in my chem class, right?” Caitlyn asked, crouching down to meet my gaze. Her voice was crisp, but her smile softened it.

“Uh, yeah. I sit… three rows back?” I replied, surprised she even knew I existed.

“She’s got the neat notes,” Vi said, plopping down next to me like she’d known me her whole life. “The ones that look like they belong in a museum or something.”

I blinked, unsure if that was a compliment. “I just like color coding.”

Vi grinned. “Cute.”

From that day on, they didn’t leave me alone. Not that I minded. It was… nice. Caitlyn helped me with calculus when she realized I was hopeless at derivatives. Vi taught me how to throw a proper punch after she overheard me confessing I’d never even been in a fight. They pulled me into their orbit, and I let myself get swept away.

But the thing that stuck with me most wasn’t the tutoring or the sparring sessions. It was the way they opened my eyes to things I’d never thought about before.

“I can’t believe you’ve never done this,” Vi said, tugging me toward the edge of the rooftop.

It was late, far past curfew, and Caitlyn had dragged me out of bed with a promise of “something fun.” That “something fun” turned out to be sneaking onto the roof of the tallest building in the neighborhood to stargaze.

“I’m not exactly a rebel,” I muttered, hugging myself against the chill.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Caitlyn said, her tone light but her gaze steady. She sat down, patting the spot next to her. “Come on. You’ll like it.”

I hesitated for a moment before joining her. The view was… breathtaking. The city stretched out below us, a sea of glittering lights that felt as endless as the stars above.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Told you,” Vi said, flopping down on my other side. “This is what life’s about, y’know? The little things.”

Caitlyn nodded. “The things that make you feel alive.”

I glanced at them, my chest tightening. They made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t realized I was missing.

They showed me music I’d never heard, places I’d never been, and feelings I’d never felt.

Caitlyn took me to a gallery opening one weekend, her hand warm around mine as she explained the stories behind each piece. “Art isn’t just about technique,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “It’s about the way it makes you feel.”

Vi, on the other hand, took me to an underground concert. The music was loud and messy, and the crowd was suffocating, but she was there, grinning at me like this was the greatest place on earth. “You don’t think, you just feel,” she yelled over the noise, pulling me into the rhythm.

Between the two of them, I learned how to look at the world differently. To feel it differently.

I don’t know when I started falling for them. Maybe it was the way Caitlyn’s eyes softened whenever I asked her about her favorite book, or the way Vi’s laugh echoed in my chest like a second heartbeat. Maybe it was the way they looked at me—like I wasn’t just the quiet girl with perfect grades but someone worth knowing, worth loving.

The three of us were sprawled out on Caitlyn’s couch one evening, a bottle of cheap wine Vi had smuggled in resting on the coffee table.

“You’ve never had wine?” Caitlyn asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“I’m underage,” I reminded her, earning a snort from Vi.

“Rules are just suggestions,” Vi said, pouring me a glass. “Live a little.”

I hesitated before taking a sip. It was sharp and tangy, and I coughed, making both of them laugh.

“You’ll get used to it,” Caitlyn said, her hand brushing mine.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her grin softening. “First time’s always weird, but after that? You wonder how you ever lived without it.”

They weren’t just talking about the wine.

They showed me things I never knew—about the world, about myself, about what it means to love and be loved. And for the first time in my life, I felt seen.

By Caitlyn and Vi.

And that was enough.

It was one of those nights that felt infinite, the air buzzing with unspoken energy. Caitlyn’s bedroom was dimly lit by the soft, golden glow of her bedside lamp. The three of us were piled on her plush, oversized bed, a half-finished bottle of wine between us. I could feel the heat of Vi’s arm pressed against mine, Caitlyn’s knee brushing my leg as she shifted closer.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Vi teased, her voice low, a little raspy from the wine.

“About what?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“About this,” she said, reaching over to gently tug the hem of my shirt, her smirk playful but her eyes… different. There was something in them, something that made my breath hitch.

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying me like I was one of those paintings she loved to explain. “You’re nervous,” she said softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

I swallowed hard. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn interrupted, leaning in. Her hand reached up, cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “We won’t push you, but… if you want to try…”

I barely had time to process her words before her lips were on mine. They were soft, warm, and patient, moving against mine in a way that made my head spin. My hands hovered awkwardly at my sides before I hesitantly rested one on her shoulder.

“Not fair,” Vi murmured, her voice thick with mock annoyance.

Caitlyn pulled back, her lips quirking into a grin. “There’s enough of her to share,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes impossibly tender.

Before I could respond, Vi’s fingers found my chin, turning my face toward her. Her kiss was nothing like Caitlyn’s. Where Caitlyn was soft and measured, Vi was fire—hot and consuming, her lips pressing against mine like she’d been waiting forever.

I let out a quiet gasp, and Vi chuckled, her forehead resting against mine for a moment before pulling me into another kiss. This time, Caitlyn’s hand slid to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair as she pressed kisses along my jaw.

It was overwhelming and dizzying in the best way. Their hands were everywhere—Caitlyn’s light and exploratory, Vi’s firm and grounding. I felt like I was being consumed by them, every nerve in my body alight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Caitlyn whispered against my skin, her breath warm and her voice like velvet.

“Perfect,” Vi added, her lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I didn’t have words. I could only lean into them, letting myself drown in their touch, their kisses, their warmth.

In that moment, I wasn’t just seen—I was wanted, cherished. And I wanted them just as much.

The room felt heavier now, charged with something electric, like a storm waiting to break. Caitlyn’s lips trailed down the side of my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, while Vi tilted my chin toward her for another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or impatient—it was slow, deliberate, like she was savoring every second.

“Relax,” Vi murmured against my lips, her hand finding its way to my waist. “We’ve got you.”

The words sent a rush of warmth through me, making it easier to melt into them. Caitlyn’s hand cupped the back of my head, guiding me toward her as Vi pulled back with a playful smirk.

“Your turn again, Princess,” Vi teased, leaning back to watch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my thigh.

“Don’t call me that,” Caitlyn shot back, though there was no real bite to her tone. She turned her attention back to me, her lips curling into a soft smile before she kissed me again. Her hand moved from my neck to my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss, her movements smooth and confident.

I barely registered Vi moving closer until I felt her fingers brushing against the hem of my shirt, her touch feather-light. “This okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

I nodded, the word catching in my throat before I could say it out loud.

Vi’s grin softened as she leaned in, her lips pressing against my shoulder. “You’re so damn cute when you’re flustered,” she muttered, the warmth of her breath making my skin tingle.

“Don’t overwhelm her,” Caitlyn chided, though her lips were still brushing mine as she spoke.

“She can handle it,” Vi said with a wink, her fingers sliding under the fabric to rest against my waist. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it made my head spin all over again.

They worked together in a way that felt effortless—Caitlyn’s kisses slow and exploring, while Vi’s hands roamed, her touch just the right mix of teasing and reassuring. Every now and then, they’d exchange a glance, a wordless conversation passing between them, making me feel like I was the center of something bigger than myself.

“You’re doing so good,” Caitlyn murmured against my lips, her hand trailing down my arm to intertwine her fingers with mine.

“Better than good,” Vi added, her lips brushing against the corner of my jaw as her hand tightened slightly on my waist. “You’re perfect.”

I felt like I was floating, caught between the two of them, their touches and words wrapping around me like a cocoon. For the first time, I wasn’t overthinking or doubting myself—I was just feeling. And it was everything.

Caitlyn pulled back just enough to look at me, her expression soft and adoring. “You’re sure this is okay?” she asked, her thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but certain.

Vi grinned. “Good. ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”

She leaned in again, and I let myself sink into the moment, into them. They were showing me things I never knew, things I’d only dreamed of. And for once, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

Caitlyn shifted, her hand trailing from my cheek to rest lightly on my shoulder. Her eyes scanned my face, taking in every reaction like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” she whispered, her voice so tender it made my chest ache.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Vi leaned in, pressing another kiss to the corner of my lips before trailing her way to my neck. Her teeth grazed my skin, just enough to make me gasp, and she chuckled against me.

“Damn, Cait, I think we broke her,” Vi teased, her lips moving against my neck as she spoke.

“She’s not broken,” Caitlyn countered, her tone amused but firm. “She’s overwhelmed. There’s a difference.”

I couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, my head spinning as their attention consumed me. “I’m right here, you know,” I managed to say, though my voice was breathless.

Vi pulled back just enough to smirk at me. “Oh, we know. Trust me, we know.” Her hands slid from my waist to my hips, her grip firm but comforting. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

Caitlyn hummed in agreement, leaning in to press another kiss to my lips. This one was slower, deeper, and I felt myself melt into her touch, my fingers instinctively reaching for her waist. She smiled against me, her hand gently tracing along my jawline before pulling back slightly.

“I love how responsive you are,” Caitlyn murmured, her thumb brushing against my bottom lip. Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and she smiled at my reaction.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re like a little open book. Every time we touch you, it’s like you light up.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I ducked my head in an attempt to hide it. But Caitlyn’s hand was there, gently tilting my chin back up.

“Don’t hide from us,” she said softly, her eyes searching mine. “We want to see all of you.”

Vi leaned in again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before whispering, “She’s right. You don’t need to hold back with us. Just let go.”

Their words, their touches, the way they looked at me—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. I felt like I was unraveling, piece by piece, but instead of falling apart, I was being put back together by their hands, their lips, their warmth.

Caitlyn kissed me again, her hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer. At the same time, Vi’s hands moved up, brushing against the hem of my shirt before slipping underneath, her fingertips trailing along my skin.

“You okay?” Vi asked, her voice softer now, almost gentle.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat as I leaned into their touch. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Caitlyn’s smile was radiant, her lips pressing softly to my temple. “Good,” she whispered. “Because we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

Vi’s grin was wolfish, her fingers grazing my ribs as she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Better buckle up, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

And with that, they pulled me even deeper into their orbit, their touches and kisses showing me a world I never knew existed—a world where I was wanted, adored, and completely, blissfully theirs.

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with heat and something deeper—something electric that pulsed between the three of us. Caitlyn’s lips found mine again, her movements impossibly soft, like she was memorizing every detail. Vi’s hands were still under my shirt, her touch slow and deliberate as her fingers ghosted over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax, baby,” Vi whispered against my neck, her voice low and soothing. Her lips brushed my skin, lingering at the spot just below my ear, and I felt my breath hitch. “We’ve got you.”

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against mine as her thumb traced slow circles on the back of my hand. “You’re safe with us,” she said softly, her words laced with so much care it made my chest ache.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Good,” Caitlyn murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before leaning back, her eyes scanning my face. “Because we want to take our time with you.”

Vi chuckled, her hands sliding to my waist as she leaned back enough to look me in the eyes. “She’s right,” she said, her smirk softening into something warmer. “This isn’t just some one-time thing, you know. You’re ours now.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. “Yours?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Vi said, her grip on my waist firm but comforting. “If you want to be.”

Caitlyn’s hand cupped my cheek, her gaze steady and full of something I couldn’t quite put into words. “We mean it,” she said softly. “We want you with us—not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have us.”

I blinked, the weight of their words settling over me like a warm blanket. “I…” My voice faltered, but when I looked at them—at Caitlyn’s gentle smile and Vi’s steady gaze—I felt the last of my hesitation melt away.

“I want that too,” I said finally, my voice quiet but certain.

Vi’s grin widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Good,” she murmured. “Because we weren’t planning on letting you go.”

Caitlyn smiled, her lips brushing softly against mine before she pulled back just enough to speak. “We’re going to take care of you,” she said, her voice like honey. “We’ll show you everything you’ve been missing.”

And they did.

Caitlyn’s kisses were careful and precise, her hands moving slowly as though she were savoring every second. Vi’s touch was bolder, her lips and hands leaving trails of fire wherever they went. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements seamless, their focus entirely on me.

I felt like I was unraveling under their touch, my head spinning and my body trembling as they showed me a world I’d never dared to imagine. Every kiss, every whisper, every touch was a promise—one of care, devotion, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

By the time we finally collapsed together, tangled in each other’s arms, I felt more whole than I ever had before. Caitlyn’s hand was in my hair, her fingers combing through it gently, while Vi’s arm was draped over my waist, her grip firm and protective.

“You’re ours now,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice laced with a quiet certainty.

“And we’re yours,” Vi added, her lips pressing against my temple.

I smiled, my heart full as I closed my eyes. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m yours.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true. They had shown me things I’d never known—about love, about trust, about what it meant to truly belong. And I was theirs, completely and undeniably.

[kxsagi]

Hi, I'd like to request a Rin fic please ! The basic idea would be a kind of college AU where Rin has a neighbour in his apartment complex that plays an instrument (piano ? violin ?). Normally, it should bother him to no end because it disturbs his peace. But somehow...everytime he hears his neighbour playing, he can't help but listening to their sound... Hence, a nice reveal later ? I don't know if I'm very clear, English is absolutely not my first language. Thaaanks !

“𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞”

a/n: no you're totally okay!

i love piano music and i’m so passionate about it sometimes because my sister has been playing piano for nearly a decade

but freaking tik tok keeps putting nocturne over stupid memes and now i can’t listen to it as seriously 😭

little rant: my favorite song on the piano is “believe” from polar express it’s so beautiful, but i also love the theme song from the 80’s movie somewhere in time (hence the title), which is about a man who time travels backwards and meets the love of his life (though the ending is really sad i can’t lie 😭)

the first time it happens, rin thinks he’s going insane. 

he’s just gotten back from class – tired, pissed off, hoodie drawn halfway over his face – and is halfway through untying his shoes when the sound hits him. 

a piano. 

not loud, but not background noise either. it slips past the thin apartment walls like warm light under a door: persistent, gentle, and somehow… aching. 

he frowns, eyes narrowing as he straightens up, bag slung loosely over his shoulder. he’s used to the quiet in this building. this is a complex full of students too broke or too antisocial to cause trouble, and he likes it that way. 

but this… this is new. 

and somehow, he doesn’t hate it. 

over the next few weeks, the pattern repeats. 

rin doesn’t even know which unit it’s coming from, not exactly. just that it drifts in when the sky turns soft and low and orange. sometimes it’s a slow melody, full of longing. other times it’s sharper, emotional in a way that almost pisses him off, like it’s trying to say something he can’t name. 

most days, he finds himself sitting by his desk and… stopping. his pencil stills. his eyes trail away from the textbook. and he listens. 

to you. 

you, the girl next door, though he doesn’t realize it yet. you’re in the unit directly across from his, and you always leave the window cracked open when you play. not to show off; you just like the breeze, the way it lets the sound float naturally. but that tiny opening is all rin needs to hear you clearly, more clearly than he’d like to admit. 

he learns your sound before he learns your name. your rhythm, your pace, the way you sometimes repeat a phrase like you’re unsure. the way you trail off, then start again without frustration, just patient, steady, like you’re untangling a thought out loud. 

rin listens, and listens, and listens. he doesn’t know why it doesn’t bother him. 

he used to get annoyed when people tapped their pens on desks. this should’ve been unbearable. a piano player next door in a paper-thin apartment complex? 

but all it does is make him pause, blink, and lean just a little closer to the window. 

he doesn’t figure out who you are until he runs into you one morning, quite literally. 

his headphones are in, he’s sipping a vending machine coffee, and then bam! 

textbooks go flying. his coffee splashes. your water bottle rolls. 

“… shit, sorry,” he mutters, already crouching to help you gather your stuff. his gaze only flicks up for a second, and stops. 

you’re pretty. you’ve got a scarf looped loosely around your neck, and your hair’s twisted up with a pencil. your fingertips are red from the cold and when you give him a smile, he forgets what he was about to say. 

"it's okay," you say, breathless, but amused. “we’re both half asleep anyway.” 

he hands you your thermos. you smile again. 

and just as you're about to leave, he notices what you're holding: an oversized sheet music folder under one arm, a tote bag printed with faded piano keys slung over your shoulder. 

piano. 

it hits him instantly. you’re her. you’re the sound he's been chasing every evening without knowing it. 

his eyes widen for a second, just a fraction, and you catch it. 

“... what?” you ask, blinking. 

rin clears his throat, turns away. “nothing.” 

but he knows now. and for some reason, that fact sits in his chest like warmth instead of fire. 

from then on, it becomes harder to ignore. 

he hears you practicing and he feels… off. like he’s waiting for something. like he’s stuck in a pause between two sentences. when the music plays, it fills his room with a strange kind of comfort. it’s beautiful, yeah. but more than that, it’s familiar now. 

like a secret he’s sharing with you. 

and one day, when he hears the music stop abruptly and doesn’t start again, he finds himself annoyed. 

he opens his window, glances out. your curtains are drawn. no soft tune. no hesitant scales. just silence. 

and it bugs the hell out of him. 

he doesn’t expect to see you again that night in the laundry room, bent over a dryer with earbuds in. he doesn’t even think. he just walks over. 

“you didn’t play today.” 

you blink. pause your music. “huh?” 

“your piano,” he says, more awkwardly this time. “you didn’t play.” 

you look surprised for a second, then you smile – soft, like it snuck up on you. “you can hear me?” 

“you leave your window open.” 

“oh,” you laugh, a little embarrassed. “yeah. i just… didn’t have time today. midterms.” 

rin nods, leaning against the dryer. 

a beat of silence passes. then: “... you’re really good,” he says, eyes lowered. “i like listening.” 

you stare at him. 

then your voice softens. “you… do?” 

“don’t make it a big deal.” 

“i’m not,” you giggle. “you just don’t seem like the type.” 

rin groans under his breath. “what type?” 

“the type to say he likes piano music.” 

“it’s not the piano,” he says, a little too fast. “it’s you.” 

your breath catches. and then, quietly, your smile returns. 

“well, maybe i’ll leave the window open a little wider next time,” you murmur, brushing past him with your laundry basket, the scent of roses trailing in the air behind you. 

rin stands there in the hum of the laundry room, watching you walk away. 

and for the first time in a long while… he doesn’t mind the noise at all. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[wickedhawtwexler]

soooo apparently the place where i go to karaoke has a songwriter open mic event once a month...... that would be the ideal place to make my non-karaoke singing debut would it not......... hmmm.....

[black-fist-order]

A little black history for ya'...!

In late 2011, Prince Rogers Nelson walked into Capitol Guitars, a modest music store in St. Paul, Minnesota. Dressed in dark shades and an overcoat, he browsed quietly, barely speaking. The staff recognized him instantly but chose to respect his silence. He pointed at a few guitars, asked about the tonal difference between maple and mahogany, and then paused when the owner mentioned a recent conversation with a local teacher. The teacher had said that students at Anwatin Middle School in Minneapolis were losing access to their music program due to severe budget cuts.

Prince nodded slightly and left without purchasing anything.

Three days later, a delivery truck arrived at Capitol Guitars. Prince had returned but not to shop. Instead, he gave the owner a handwritten list and a simple instruction: “Everything on this list, pack it and deliver it to Anwatin.” The list included guitars, drum sets, violins, keyboards, amps, microphones, and recording equipment. When the owner asked if the instruments should be marked with a donor name or message, Prince replied, “No names. No credit. Just send love.”

The delivery created confusion at the school. Teachers and administrators at Anwatin Middle School had no advance notice, and the delivery slip listed only a phone number that led to a private voicemail. Music teacher Kenneth Simms opened the shipment, stunned by the quality and quantity of the instruments. He assumed it was a mistake. It took several days of asking around and comparing handwriting on the note that came with the shipment before a staff member connected it to Prince, who had visited the store days earlier.

When a friend later asked him about it, Prince said, “That’s between me and the kids. Not for headlines.” He declined to make any public statement or appear at the school. According to Minneapolis-based journalist Jon Bream from "Star Tribune", even the school district wasn’t formally notified. They only learned about the donor’s identity after teachers pieced the story together.

Those close to Prince knew his silent generosity wasn’t a one-time impulse. During his early years growing up on the north side of Minneapolis, he often spoke about the importance of music education. His mother, Mattie Shaw, was a jazz singer and heavily involved in the local music scene. Prince once said in a 1999 interview with "Ebony", “If I hadn’t had access to a piano when I was seven, I don’t know who I would’ve become. Music wasn’t a hobby, it was a lifeline.”

Former bandmate Sheila E. recalled in her 2014 memoir "The Beat of My Own Drum" how Prince frequently funded youth centers and music camps without telling anyone. “He believed in giving kids a chance to create,” she wrote. “He didn’t want applause. He wanted them to play.”

At Anwatin, the new instruments transformed the energy of the school. Simms recalled how students began coming to class early just to practice. A hallway that once echoed with silence after the final bell now hummed with guitar riffs, drumbeats, and laughter. “We didn’t just get instruments,” Simms told "MinnPost" in 2012, “we got hope.”

Store owner Alan Geller, who kept the receipt from Prince’s bulk order tucked in his office drawer, shared later that the musician didn’t even ask for a discount. “He said, ‘Charge full price. They deserve the best.’”

For Prince, who had often used his wealth to quietly support causes tied to youth empowerment, the act wasn’t about visibility. His friend Van Jones later commented during an interview with "CNN", “He believed that if you help a kid find their rhythm, they might avoid chaos. He never needed a stage for that.”

The donation never became a national headline. There were no photo ops or ceremonies. But in a city where music had once saved a young boy from the streets, it was returned, quietly, to the next generation. Prince gave them music when theirs had been taken away and never asked for anything in return...