C Flute Fingering Chart

James wasn't your typical writer. He gave a new meaning to Copywriting. His life wasn't great but he was doing well for himself; six figures in his bank account, and a hot neighbour that he had more than one wet dream about. His life was great until he died of course. Now he's stuck in another world with a secret mission. He's ready to spin another new meaning to copywriting.

“Roll your fingers into your cunt, fuck your pussy fast, and spill every inch of your juice on my face, cause I want to taste you. Right here and now!” * My best friend’s dad and I hate each other. Or so we thought. It used to be a tug of war for us. He thinks I am a lousy girl who has nothing to worry about, and I think he is a cold man who hides pain and mischief behind that hard-angled face of his. But all of that changed when I bumped into him stroking his cock and moaning my name to the picture I posted on IG to spike my still very obsessed ex. I had many plans for the years, but none included fucking my best friend’s dad during the Christmas celebration she had informed me of. But I did, and every day after that became dangerous, pulling us deeper and deeper into places only cock and cunt could reach. I am just a broken girl. One who saw herself as someone unworthy of love, until I found it in the wrongest of places. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t desire him, but it started as lust and whirled into something dangerous. Now he makes me cum every night and makes me laugh every day, but at what expense do I have to keep us? I have a dream, and it's about two people who shouldn't want each other. 80 forbidden percent and….20 percent Damnation. Hello!!!! And… welcome to Ruins!

Asya is the most promising ballerina the Royal Ballet has seen in years. Wildly ambitious, back-breakingly disciplined, and immensely driven, she has only one objective: prima ballerina. There is nothing she won't do to earn this once-in-a-generation title. But behind her ballerina grace she hides dark secrets of an inhumanly strict mother, pushing her body to cruel limits, and serial hookups with male dancers. Roman Zharnov is the star of the Russian ballet: young, successful, arrogant, beautiful, and worst of all, talented. He's come to London for a fresh start after earning himself the nickname 'the bad boy of ballet'. It is during a rehearsal that his eye falls on Asya, a nineteen-year-old soloist with spitfire in her eyes and a raw talent capable of silencing an auditorium. But Asya has a partner, and she wants to stay as far away as possible from the Russian prodigy with a reputation that won't seem to leave him alone. In the competitive world of classical ballet Asya is climbing the ranks, earning coveted parts and building a name for herself as a promising soloist. But all the while she is playing a dangerous game behind the curtain. Roman has found the one ballerina that can keep up with him and wants her to partner him, but he will soon realise that animals can't do what she does.

I die in the basement after being burned by acid. My family doesn't recognize me, and they don't call the cops. My mother picks up the scalpel that hasn't been used in years and debones me. My father excitedly mixes my skeleton with concrete and turns me into an exquisite statue. My sister uses the sculpture she's made out of my flesh and portrays herself as a genius sculptor whom everyone admires. Later, the sculpture is shattered, revealing half a broken finger inside. That's when everyone panics.

My mother sells special éclairs. Each one costs a thousand dollars, but the female customers fight each other to buy them. They look like they can't get enough. My sister wants to take a box to share with her boyfriend when she sees how popular they are. However, my mother firmly rejects her. She says she's the only one who can touch those éclairs. My sister refuses to listen. She secretly sneaks into the freezer in the basement. Then, in the middle of the night, I hear her wanton moans.

I dropped my car off for maintenance at the service center. When it was finished, I told the staff to put it on the tab of my cousin, who ran the shop. The staff member nodded and started to process it, but then the female manager stepped in. "We don't do tabs here. You've got to pay up now," she said, slapping the bill down right in front of me. Premium Diagnostic Scan: $80,000 Exhaust System Sound Enhancement: $100,000 Engine Harmony Calibration: $100,000 Total: $280,000. I laughed at the absurdity. Since when did my cousin start running a rip-off operation? The manager crossed her arms and gave me a snooty once-over. "Always trying to mooch off Chad. I've seen plenty of broke relatives like you. If you can't swing it, don't act like you can." Unwilling to argue with her, I pulled out my phone and called my cousin. "You have ten minutes to fire the manager, or your shop is finished."