#money Man perry

[urbbmbaby]

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓹𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓮𝓶🕯

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Sick of being tired sad and overwhelmed all the time 😔

[alicentflorent]

I don’t understand why people think the house of usher characters were punished harder for being queer? And that the writing comes off as homophobic and conservative when it comes to sex? They’re all horrible rich people that care more about their money and their own selfish desires than anyone or anything else, they’re well rounded, interesting characters and in the narrative they are terrible people in the narrative who just so happen to be queer. Four of usher siblings have partners / sexual relationships with people who are also queer. The love interests seem like genuine good people, especially julius and Alessandra, two queer characters of colour who were committed and loving and put up with a lot when it came to their relationships. All the good people on the show who are involved with an usher are mistreated by their usher partners (except maybe perrys two partners? he didn’t seem to treat them badly) including the two straights and the straight man was the worst of the siblings in the end.

I guess my main point is that villains can be queer and that isn’t inherently homophobic or problematic. We are at the point in media were more characters are fluid with their sexuality. That don’t fit a stereotype. We are getting more characters where being queer is just a part of who they are and it’s not something that is brought up or a major part of the story. Queer characters are being written more similarly to straight characters. Where sexuality isn’t a big factor and their love interests are just their love interests. Sure they can still be written in a problematic way but I don’t see this as an issue with the fall of the house of usher, a show about terrible people or use and abuse others around them and face consequences for their evil acts that have no connection to their queerness and kinks.

[santaasi]

DANCE WITH ME

pairing: jj maybank x dancer!fem!reader

summary: jj maybank loves the sea, the sandy beach of north carolina and the warm sun. new york is the exact opposite of all this. and he hates it. but she... she changes everything.

warnings: new york au, fluff, slight angst (as usual), but happy ending, miscommunication trope, a little use of y/n, some language, english is not my first language

word count: 5.9k

a/n: first of all, thank u all for supporting my first two works here. I rly couldn’t have expected so much love and support from all of u, but i appreciate it. secondly, I can't write summaries, so i think it sounds kinda shitty. thirdly, it was supposed to be a small blurb, but I was carried away and I couldn't stop. and fourthly, I listened to Slaves - Body on Fire and Katy Perry - Wide Awake while writing this oneshot, so I advise everyone to do the same.

The huge theater hall of the New York School of the Fine Arts was getting more crowded and noisier by the second. People dressed in ridiculously posh suits, as if they had come to a reception at Buckingham Palace, took their seats and from time to time looked askance at the two guys sitting in one of the front rows.

In particular, all those present, as it seemed to JJ himself, looked at him with special disapproval interest. Compared to this bunch of rich bastards who had nothing to do on Thursday night except watch their ‘creatively gifted’ children jumping around the stage in tutus, he looked like a black sheep in his dark jeans, a white T-shirt with unwashed ketchup stains and a cap on. He looked like a total looser, who had missed his shift at a godforsaken restaurant in the Bronx only to watch his best friend’s new girlfriend performance, while everyone around him was showing off their wealth and position. Showing JJ his place.

JJ Maybank had no place in this money-rotten world. And he knew it perfectly well.

And why was he sitting here then?

Just as simple as it is. Because of John Booker Routledge. JJ Maybank adored his best friend. No, not best friend. JJ Maybank adored his brother, John B., who saved him from an abusive and alcoholic father, allowing him to move into his small flat in the Bronx and gave him a chance to make a fresh start.

John B. Routledge was always there for JJ. They spent all the happy and sad moments together, supporting and helping each other. And Maybank, in gratitude for everything, was ready to do anything for John B. Absolutely anything.

That's why he was now sitting in a maroon-upholstered theater chair, waiting for the start of a ballet performance in which John B's new girlfriend, Sarah, had the main role, and felt all these rich jerks staring at him. And it annoyed him.

He was annoyed by all these vain idiots and how they always looked down on guys like John and J, who had to literally fight for their lives in this huge city, while those rich bastards were drinking prosecco on the veranda of their Soho estate.

He was annoyed by the kids of these jerks who studied at these luxurious art schools, a semester in which cost so much that JJ could live happily on this money for five years or even more.

He was annoyed by whole this situation, which literally screamed: “Look at us! We have a lot of money that we spend on stupid school performances, so that our kids would think they're talented.”

JJ Maybank was not envious. It was just that he, a man who had worked his whole life in order not to starve, did not perceive all this creative entertainments as something serious at all. He didn't go to theaters, operas, ballets and the like. For him, it was stupid shows to launder money from these rich peeps. And JJ wouldn't be sitting in this chair waiting for the play to start if it wasn't for John B. John B., who needed his support in this fashionable enemy lair.

Exhaling irritably, catching another look of disgust from some elderly lady in furs, J took off his cap and ran fingers through his blond hair, turning to John B., who was looking at the curtains and tapping his feet on the floor.

“I'm going to take a leak and smoke, okay, John?" JJ patted him on the shoulder before getting up from his seat and heading out of the hall. John just nodded without taking his eyes off the stage.

This guy was obsessed with Sarah. And it's not that JJ didn't understand what his best mate found in a pretty blonde girl, it's just... it's just that Maybank never thought that John B would be all lovey-dovey with some chick that was completely out of his league. Although Routledge always had freer views in this rich/poor hierarchy, while JJ was sure that all the kids born with a golden spoon in their mouths were stuck up bitches not worth his attention.

Of course, Sarah Cameron proved the opposite. As they would say in North Carolina, she was kook on the outside, but a true pogue in her heart. But, as Maybank believed, this was a one-in-a-million exception.

JJ was walking along a bright corridor, trying to find the exit, when he caught a barely audible melodie. The guy followed the sound, looking through the glass in the slightly ajar door leading to a bright, spacious ballroom with large panoramic windows and ballet bars. In the middle of the sunset-drenched hall stood a young girl, who sometimes came with Sarah to hang out with John and JJ, but he never paid enough attention to her.

More precisely, she was too out of reach for a guy like JJ, to pay her attention that he wanted to. She was kind, sincere, her smile could light up, it seemed, the whole world. She always laughed at his jokes, even the dumbest ones. The mere touch of her fingers on his skin made JJ burn as if he were being immersed in a flaming cauldron of hell.

She was incredibly smart, funny and breathtakingly beautiful. Just the sight of her in a small summer dress made everything in front of his eyes fade, leaving only her. She was too perfect in his eyes, like an angel descending from heaven to torment him, JJ Maybank, showing him what he could never have. Making him hate his position and his life. Making him envious of these dumb rich assholes. Because she was too good for a bad guy like JJ Maybank.

And now, looking at her fragile frame, watching the elegant swings of her hands, perfectly honed movements and the flight of her hair from each new spin, JJ's heart in the chest was treacherously squeezed with delight. His breathing, as well as time, stopped, and it seemed to the guy as if the world had stopped too, leaving only her in his field of vision. Neat facial features, flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips, gaze concentrated on the mirror, but as if looking into another dimension. She looked beautiful, flawless... No, she looked divine.

JJ didn't know how long he had been standing in the hallway looking at Sarah Cameron's friend. But as soon as the music ended, and she ran her hand over her hot face, pushing back the hair stuck to her skin. As soon as she raised a bottle of water to her lips taking a couple of sips. And as soon as her gaze fell on the guy on the other side of the door. Maybank immediately came out of his entranced state, feeling caught and ashamed.

Turning around on his heels, JJ walked swiftly to the exit, still feeling his heart beating in his chest at breakneck speed, and her gentle image rises before his eyes. A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin. And again the hand is in the air. Jump… Spin… The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand…

The cold February wind hit him in the face and without even thinking, the guy lit a cigarette, looking into the void.

He hated New York and the cold of the city. He missed North Carolina. Kildare with its warm sun and sandy beaches. The smell of the sea, the sound of waves and surfing…

Why is he even thinking about the Outer Banks now, three years after he left without even once looking back…?

JJ Maybank did not return to that room full of these loaded bastards, steeped in luxury and affectation. Instead, he lowered his head and got to their shared apartment on the outskirts of the Bronx, where the rats and the crazy granny neighbor who was always bothering him for nothing were waiting for him.

But for the first time in three years, JJ Maybank didn't care about any of this. He was still standing in that hallway. He looked through the glass at the sunlit room.

A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin.

And again. Her hand is in the air... Jump… Spin…

The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand… And her light smile, like the warm sun of Kildare…

JJ Maybank fell in love.

If someone had told him six months ago that his heart would beat a thousand beats per minute just by looking at her, or that when talking to her, he would not be able to find more than one suitable word and would only stand and watch her giggle softly at his reaction... He would have laughed in the man's face. Because JJ Maybank doesn't fall in love. He spends one night with a girl and forgets about her in the morning. He takes napkins with numbers he will never call and throws them in the nearest trash can.

JJ Maybank is not made for relationships. He does not get attached and cannot love. But for some reason, he feels differently with her.

JJ Maybank fell in love.

And if six months ago he would have been told that he would work two shifts to buy himself a white dress shirt and a pair of decent trousers just to sit in a maroon velvet armchair among rich pompous bastards and watch her dance on stage... Watch how she transforms in her dance, becoming even more beautiful... Watch her every move, every curve of her body and the soft rise of her hands just to catch the smallest changes on her flawless face…

And then, meet her in the hall with a bouquet of her favorite tulips in his hands, for which he borrowed money from John B., just to see her smile like Kildare's sun and hear her laugh that reminds him of waves crashing on the shore.

JJ Maybank fell head over heels in love with her.

And it was obvious to everyone as a clear day.

John B. saw his friend's pupils turn into two big throbbing hearts when he saw her. John B. saw how JJ, who had always been confident around the girls, turned into a small helpless puppy who could not utter a single word as soon as she appeared next to him. John B. noticed how his best friend's life changed dramatically with the arrival of her in JJ's life.

JJ Maybank's life, which previously consisted only of home, work and a couple of weekend parties, now consisted only of work and meetings with her after which he went back to work.

Sarah wasn't blind to the changes in JJ's behavior either. The first time she saw him on the steps of the NYAFA, she thought that something had happened to John B., but when she realized that Maybank was not waiting for her, but for her friend, everything immediately fell into place. JJ's frequent appearance at performances at the academy, even when John B. did not go to them, the flowers that changed every three days in their shared with Y/N house, his questions about her best friend's preferences and many other things finally made sense.

Therefore, at her birthday party, Sarah decided to be a wingman and do everything possible to connect loving hearts. After all, Cameron did not escape the reactions from Y/N, who too often began to ask questions about JJ, who began to devote more time to her appearance and blushed every time Sarah mentioned only the name of the blonde.

Now JJ was sitting at a table in the Cameron's house backyard in Soho, which was decorated with sparkling lights in honor of the birthday girl, and stirring a glass of brandy in his hand. His gaze was once again focused only on her, dancing with Sarah on an improvised dance floor to some Latin music. The skirt of her white dress was like sea foam rising and falling with her every movement, and her ringing laughter made his heart skip a beat. During the four months of his addiction to her, it became a habitual body reaction for him.

JJ chuckled as he drained the rest of the brandy before lifting his head and meeting her glittering, emerald-like eyes. Her cheeks were red and her lips stretched into a wide smile. The guy saw how her chest quickly fell and rose after active dancing. The girl tilted her head slightly, bringing a red cup with drink to her lips before sitting down next to Maybank.

“Are you enjoying the party, Jay?" the girl teased. Her velvety voice carried like an electric current through his body before Maybank turned his head in her direction.

“Rather enjoying the view,” JJ grinned, winking at her, making the poor girl blush. She giggled softly and rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him lightly on the shoulder.

“I'm serious, by the way. You look tired,” the girl murmured and a line appeared between her brows. “And lately, I- I rarely see you.”

JJ's heart skipped a beat at the thought that she was worried about him and a corners of his mouth lifted. He sat closure to her, putting his hand on the back of her chair, looking straight into her doe-eyes. The girl felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs by the very sight of that self-confident grin and the look into those deep blue eyes. J's hand softly touched her cheek as he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. The girl sucked in a loud breath and involuntarily leaned into his touch.

“You shouldn't bother that pretty little head of yours with worries about me, princess,” the guy whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“And what if I want to take care of you...” the girl said in a barely audible voice, swallowing a lump in her throat.

She could feel her heart about to burst out when JJ slightly closed the distance between them. His lips were unbearably close to hers and she felt his hot breath burning her skin, and his hand continued to gently stroke her cheek. She had never wanted to kiss someone so much in her life.

For the past four months, all she could think about was the guy who came to her every performance when even her parents weren't there. The guy who meets her every night from rehearsals and asks her about her day. The guy who gives her his hoodie when she gets cold. The guy who brings her a bouquet of her favorite tulips every three days and leaves cute notes inside that she keeps in a shoe box under the bed.

Before JJ Maybank, all her thoughts were occupied only with dancing, which she lived and breathed, rehearsals, preparations for concerts and dreams of Broadway.

Now everything that surrounded her: a fresh bouquet of tulips in the kitchen, a blue hoodie with the smell of the sea in her closet, notes in a box under her bed and even the music she danced to - reminds her of him. She thinks about JJ when she wakes up and when she fall asleep. When she's dancing, when she's choosing music for a new performance, when she's walking, when she's reading, when she's resting. She thinks about JJ Maybank, about his light soft disheveled hair, about his blue eyes in which she could drown, about the smell of the salty sea that seemed to soak into his skin, constantly.

And now that he was so close to her, when he touched her face and looked at her with such tenderness, all she wanted to do was pull him closer and kiss him. But instead she swallowed, barely breaking away from him as Sarah's voice shattered their little vacuum world. Maybank cursed softly, running his hand through his hair before looking back at the girl who had already got up from her seat, preparing to head towards Sarah.

“Will you dance with me when I'm done with her?" A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she turned around halfway, looking hopefully at the guy.

JJ was taken aback. He wanted to agree. He wanted to say that he would be happy to dance with her, but... but he couldn't dance. And he was ashamed to admit it to someone for whom dancing was hers whole life. And he didn't want their first dance to be a complete failure just because he was a fool who couldn't move his bear paws and didn't know where to put his hands and how to behave properly and…

“Mhm. I'm already leaving. I have a night shift, so… Maybe another time?” the guy said distantly and shrugged, getting up from his chair.

Meeting her gaze, which literally screamed disappointment and that his answer hurt her, J immediately regretted his words and wanted to return them, but it was too late. The girl faked a smile and nodded.

“Then... maybe... another time? See ya, Jay,” she said finally and disappeared into the crowd, trying to suppress the tears that are starting to fill her eyes.

"Yeah… next time," the guy echoed, watching her move further away from him.

JJ Maybank was head over heels in love.

And even though he wasn't a genius before, he was a complete fool now.

Three weeks later, her dreams and her heart were broken. Three weeks after Sarah's birthday, she realized that all of JJ's feelings for her were just her own delusions.

At first, they just started seeing each other less often. He no longer met her after rehearsals, as he took extra shifts at work, but still sent her flowers every three days. He messaged her every day asking how her day was and how she was feeling, told her funny stories from work on their evenings phone calls and everything seemed fine. But after two weeks, all their communication came to naught. She offered to meet a couple of times, but JJ refused, saying that he had a job and as soon as his co-worker will recover from his unexpected illness, they would definitely meet.

And she believed him. And waited.

Until one day she saw JJ Maybank with a cup of coffee in his hand, strolling down Lexington Avenue smiling at a dark-haired girl, so beautiful as if she had stepped off the cover of vogue magazine when, according to him, he was supposed to be at work.

And at that moment, her whole world seemed to collapse.

She knew that she had no rights to the guy, that he had promised her nothing. And she understood perfectly well that they were not in a relationship, and that in fact he could spend his time with anyone. But her heart beat painfully in her chest from the realization that all those sweet and meaningful moments with him were now just nothing.

All those notes, flowers, late-night calls and conversations, that almost kiss - were now nothing and it broke her heart.

But the worst thing about this situation was the realization that instead of talking, JJ just decided to ignore her and ghost her, coming up with stupid excuses not to see her.

Maybe she did something wrong? Or maybe some of her words hurt him? Or was she too clingy? A lot of questions were spinning in the girl's head, but all she could do was lock herself in her room and cry, glad that Sarah had gone to her family for a couple of days. She didn't want to discuss this topic with anyone, not even with her best friend.

From that day on, she stopped texting JJ in the morning and calling in the evenings when she returned from rehearsals. She stopped opening the door to the courier, who continued to bring her flowers from him. And she hid his hoodie, smelling of the sea, away in the closet. She cut JJ Maybank out of her life, devoting herself to dancing, shutting herself off from the world around her.

At first, JJ did not notice that the girl had pulled away from him, immersed in her business and work.

More precisely, he noticed that she no longer wrote or called him after training, but for the first three days he attributed it to her busy schedule. Maybank remembered that she had mentioned preparing for an audition for a Broadway troupe, and thought that was what she was doing. But when he hadn't heard from her for a week, he got worried.

To tell the truth, JJ has been restless all week. He was so used to her presence in his life, to her morning messages that gave him energy for the whole day, to her evening calls and laughter on the phone that made his soul feel better, that the absence of these small moments felt like emptiness. Like a black corridor with no exit.

And JJ started writing to her himself, but he didn't get a reply. Then he started calling her, but all the calls were forwarded to the voicemail. He went to the academy, but he never saw her. And eventually he met Sarah, who was also completely unaware.

“Since I came from my parents, she hasn't been herself,” Sarah admitted, biting her lip, frowning slightly. “She hardly talks to me, she's always rehearsing, and it's like she's dropped out of life. I do not know what's wrong with her, JJ.”

Because of the whole situation, JJ Maybank couldn't live fully.

He continued to write to her, call her, even wrote letters by hand, as in those romantic films that she loved so much, throwing them under her door, but he never received an answer. Not a single response in a month.

He had been living without her in his life for a whole fucking month, and if before he was sure that he was in love with her, now JJ Maybank was a thousand percent sure that he loved her to the point of insanity and physical pain.

He wanted to hear her laugh every day. He wanted to wake up and see her smile and sparkling eyes first. He wanted to listen to her endless chatter about her favorite actors, singers and dancers. He wanted to watch her dance, watch how her soul seemed to rise somewhere higher, to where he had no access. He wanted to watch her laugh, blush, cry, be sad or angry for the rest of his life.

JJ Maybank wanted to spend his whole life with her. Because she is life itself. She is the ocean, the sound of waves, wet sand and warm sun. She's Kildare. She's his home.

And JJ Maybank wasn't going to give up on that. Not today. Not now. Never.

The sun had long sunk below the horizon. It was raining like hell, and even if JJ had an umbrella, it definitely wouldn't have saved him. No one could hide from the spring rains of New York.

JJ was standing under a tree near the entrance to the Academy of Fine Arts, waiting for her.

Today, JJ will solve all their problems and confess his feelings to her. No matter the weather, no matter her mood, or even the meteor shower, he will do everything to make her listen to him. And if after that she decides that she doesn't want to see him, then he will leave her life forever. But if, for once in his life, luck would be on his side, and she reciprocates, then... then he will never let her go.

The big front door opened and Y/N walked out of the building, lifting her head up, looking at the sky. JJ froze for a second, watching as she lifted her backpack over her head and walked down the marble steps so beautiful and elegant. He hadn't seen her for almost a month and a half, and now that she was so close to him, all thoughts and intentions left his head. And just like the first time they met, he could only look at her and enjoy the view. But as soon as her foot hit the sidewalk and she headed for the bus stop, JJ came out of his hiding place calling her name.

The girl stopped halfway, slowly looking over her shoulder at the blond man approaching her. The world stopped around her in a second. She felt her knees ready to buckle, and her heart began to beat a painfully familiar accelerated rhythm. But before her feelings could fully grasp her again, the girl pulled herself together and turned away, swiftly walking away from him.

“No, wait! We need to talk!" JJ shouted through the noise of the rain, starting to run, catching her by the forearm and turning her towards him. The girl's eyes widened when his hand touched the bare skin of her forearm and her whole body felt like it was on fire.

“Let me go,” she said coldly, and JJ was a little taken aback, but did not let go of her hands, shaking his head negatively. He won't leave until he's sorted it out. He needed answers. And he needed her even more.

“I won't let you go until you tell me what's the matter with you"

The girl stared at the guy in shock, and then laughed out loud, throwing her head back, lowering the bag, as her hand was tired of holding it over her head. Raindrops immediately began to roll down her face and hair, drenching her to the skin in a second.

“Are you serious? What's the matter? You tell me what's the matter, JJ! Tired of your new doll and you decided to come back to me again, huh?”

Her eyes sparkled with the fire of anger, burning a hole in the uncomprehending JJ. She was furious and it was the first time he had seen her like this and did not understand what he had done to arouse such reaction in her. Her bag fell to the sidewalk and she came closer, lifting her head a little higher, looking straight into his eyes.

“What? Did you also play with her, made her feel needed, desired, and then dumped her? Yeah, Maybank? Did you do the same to her?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and pushed her palms into his chest. The guy staggered, but remained standing in place, frowning, watching her eyes fill with tears. Or was it just the rain?

“Why aren't you saying anything? Answer me! Did you do the same to her as you did to me?" The girl roared in his face, pushing him in the chest once more before taking a step back, shaking her head.

She turned away for a couple of seconds, gathering her thoughts. JJ heard her sniffle and felt his heart clench with pain. He didn't understand what she was angry about, who she was talking about and what she wanted him to say. Maybank wanted to pull her closer to him and calm her down, to tell her that everything would be fine and that they could work it out, but he was too overwhelmed by everything that was happening and couldn't even move.

“You know, I believed that you really liked me. I believed that for the first time in my life, someone liked me, and not Sarah or one of my friends, but you...” she sniffled again, wiping the tears that rolled down her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I-I really believed you… Why didn't you tell me you weren't interested in me? Why didn't you say you didn't want to talk to me? Why did you make up excuses that you were working or-”

“Excuses? I was really working. I took extra shifts and I-” finally realizing the reality of the situation, JJ began to speak, but she immediately interrupted him, throwing a look full of pain and resentment.

“I saw you and that girl coming out of the coffee shop together when you said you were going to work!" She exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, running her fingers through her dump hair.

JJ rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what she meant, which girl she was talking about, until he remembered Brittany, his dance coach. He signed up for dance classes a month ago. Was it really all because of that? Was she ignoring him because she thought he was just having fun with her? No, no, she couldn't have thought that.…

“Hey, hey, no, it's all not what it seems,” the guy shook his head, taking a step forward, reaching for her hands, removing them from her face, squeezing them in his own.

His eyes scanned her face. The mascara flowed from moisture and tears, the eyes were slightly reddened, and the nose was swollen. And JJ looked at her again. Not understanding why she would even think that he would like someone like Brittany when she was all he could dream of. His hands cupped her face and with his thumbs he gently wiped away the black marks under her eyes. A soft sob escaped her lips and a fresh batch of tears rolled down her cheeks. He exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, swallowing, breathing heavily.

“The truth is... that Brittany girl... she's my dance teacher,” JJ whispered and looked into her eyes, which were looking at him questioningly. She looked like a little lost child and he chuckled softly.

“That night, at Sarah's birthday party, when you asked me to dance…" J closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. He hoped that he would never have to admit it, and that his dancing lessons would remain a secret, but she had to know the truth so as not to consider him the jerk who played with her feelings. JJ didn't want her to think that of him. “I refused because I can't dance. And I was... I was ashamed. Dancing is your whole life and I would just embarrass myself in front of you… And you'd think I was some kind of fool...”

“But I-I would never have th-thought that,” the girl whispered softly. J opened his eyes, caught her sincere gaze and smiled. God, what a fool he was.

“That's right, but I... I was an insecure jerk, princess,” the guy admitted, grinning, tucking a wet curl behind her ear. “I'm… It all happened so fast and I... I never saw myself catching these feelings. I never asked for help or needed the healing. And I decided to take these damn dance classes for you... and I didn't want you to find out because I... because I'm a complete idiot, apparently,” the guy laughed softly, shaking his head.

JJ let go of her face and took a couple of steps back, giving her time to process everything he said. He could feel his heart beating wildly against the walls of his chest while she stood and was silent, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Listen, Princess. I know I should have told you and all that earlier, but I... God, you're driving me crazy, you know? I can't think, speak, or breathe when you're around. I'm head over heels in love with you, angel” Maybank ran his fingers through the hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “I can't stop the way that this felt. It keeps coming round and round and round and back again”

She looked at him in silence, feeling as if the heart that she had broken herself was beginning to heal from his words. And she wanted to cry how stupid she had been to believe that JJ was playing with her. While he was taking dance lessons so as not to look like a fool in front of her… She knew he didn't like dancing, but for her sake he went to classes to learn. For her sake, he stepped over himself a bunch of times, worked overtime and did everything to make her happy, and she just...

A loud sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears blurring her eyes. Her legs buckled and she almost fell to the ground, but JJ quickly picked her up, hugging her to him.

“I'm sorry, Jay! I'm so so so sorry, I was such a fool! I-I-I didn't mean to! I-I-didn't know,” the girl whimpered into his chest, clinging to his soaked T-shirt. His free hand slowly stroked her wet hair while his other hand held her on her feet.

“Shhh… Everything's fine now, right? We'll figure it out and everything will be fine,” the guy whispered in her ear, kissing the top of her head. “You believe me, don't you?”

The girl raised her head looking at his calm face, on which raindrops were running, at his wet hair and soft smile, and her soul felt so warm, as if in a second she was at home in the warmth next to the fireplace with a warm mug of tea in her hands, and not standing under the cold pouring rain in the middle of the street. Her hand slowly soared into the air and removed the bangs that stuck to his forehead before nodding in agreement.

JJ's gaze swept over her soft features. First the eyes, then the pink cheeks and plump lips that he wanted to kiss so much. The guy exhaled, raising his eyes again, looking into hers.

“Will you dance with me?” He whispered hoarsely, without taking his eyes off her, holding out his hand.

She smiled, and it seemed to him that this smile could light up the whole world if the sun ever went out. She gently placed her hand in his palm, and put the other on his shoulder. JJ squeezed her hand, pulling her closer by the waist, so that he felt every cell of her body and took the first hesitant step, which she followed without even thinking.

Her gaze was focused on his eyes, blue as two oceans, in which she was drowning more and more with each new step of the dance. For the first time, she didn't think about what move she should make next, or what position to stand in to look good on stage, or about getting to the beat of the music. For the first time in a long time, she danced just for herself, as she felt and as she wanted, completely trusting in the hands of JJ Maybank. He with trepidation and tenderness whirled her around in a dance on the ever-hurrying streets of New York, which at that moment stopped their run. Leaving only her, JJ and their dance in this vast world.

“I think love you, JJ,” she whispered softly, looking into his eyes, feeling a lump rise in her throat from excitement. Maybank stopped holding her in his arms, studying her face carefully before saying hoarsely, “Say it again".

“I love you,” she said on an exhale, and as soon as these words were uttered for the second time, Maybank pulled her face closer and kissed her. Gently. No rush. Like he haven't kissed anyone else before her. Trying to feel every emotion to the fullest.

The New York's rain comes pouring down, not even thinking to stop. And JJ Maybank didn't like the New York's rain. He didn't like New York and the people who live here. He disliked theater, ballet and dancing.

But JJ Maybank loved the sea, the sun and sandy beaches. He also loved surfing and Kildare, which he had to leave three years ago. He loved his home, which was thousands of miles from New York.

Y/N Y/L loved New York with its weather and people. She lived by dancing and dreamed of performing on Broadway and had never been to North Carolina. But despite this, JJ Maybank saw her as his home: the waves of the sea in her laughter, the sandy beaches in her eyes and the warmth of the sun in her smile.

And next to her, it turned out that New York and North Carolina were not so different, and that his home would never be a thousand miles away. And from now on, It will always stay next to him, in his arms, on his lips, in his heart.

Because now JJ Maybank knew that his home had never been a place. It's always been a person. And it's her.

that’s my first such loooong oneshot here so, i’m a little nervous to post it. but i rly hope it came out good n not too boring.

I will be glad to receive any feedback. a comment, like or reblog always pleases that little writer’s heart of mine.

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

– your santi ✨

masterlist

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

Chapter 002: Long Live the King

Isabelle is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile at the club, you gather up the courage to buy a Handsome Stranger a drink.

↳ 001 (PROLOGUE) // 002 // 003 // 004 // 005 // 006 // 007 EPILOGUE

CW: slight age gap (steve is 31, sweets is 23) , homoerotic steddie workout scene (just guys bein dudes) 😵‍💫🚨 drinking, smoking, gambling, drugs mentioned, shy girl makes one (1) unaliving joke, weight discussed briefly, this chapter contains scene/POV splits, each chapter will have its own warnings

card suits divider by @cafekitsune 🃏🧡

a/n: the hargroves own 'rock you like hurricane', do not try to change my mind.

“SHUT UP & PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS.”

word count: 5.6k words

♛

12:03 PM - Sweets and Isabelle

“There he goes again,” Isabelle sighs. “Long Live the King…”

It’s the sixth Elvis impersonator you’ve seen so far. Further down the strip of Old Vegas there was Jailhouse Rock Elvis, Unchained Melody Elvis, Elvis-If-You-Tried-To-Draw-Him-By-Memory, and Donuts-On-The-Toilet Elvis.

“I feel like I’ve seen every variant of The King possible,” you remark. “All that’s missing now is ShowGirl Elvis or Stripper Elvis.”

The statement alone piques your curiosity while you and Isabelle continue to walk. Suddenly, you find yourself asking your BFF a very interesting question.

“Would you ever wanna be a stripper?”

Isabelle stiffens abruptly.

It’s a pause you’ve never seen before in your life. But given that Isabelle has been an extreme empath for as long as you’ve known her, women in sex work may be a very sensitive topic.

“No,” Elle says to you, flatly. “They go through entirely too much.”

It’s the response you expected. It’s very easy for Isabelle to put herself in other people’s shoes — or heels in this sense. Even easier if they’re women at the hands of a man who holds a fair amount of power over them. It’s no wonder it seems triggering.

“It’s an admirable job though,” she manages to add. “Strippers don’t get enough credit. If I had a stripper in my life I would treat her like a queen.”

“Well, you'll have the chance to tonight," you smirk. "Given where we're going..."

Tonight you two are headed to Jackpot Gentlemen's Club, a strip joint on the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester.

It's more of a business endeavor than anything. The plan is to support all the beautiful dancers, all while promoting Isabelle's lingerie line, Bright & Belle.

For as long as you've known Isabelle, she's always been money-driven.

But in the best way. After divorcing from her ex-husband — Eddie, you believe his name was — Isabelle had been hyper-fixated on the hustle. And after seeing that ‘Girl-Boss’ mindset of hers flourish throughout the years, you wanted to be there for her in anyway you can.

What you haven't told Isabelle though, is that you wanted to feel sexy too. You’ve been deficient in Vitamin A(ttention) as of late, and a non-committal hook up in a "What Happens Here, Stays Here" type city sounded pretty enticing. A graduation reward and all.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Isabelle abruptly pries.

Piggybacking off your thoughts. How on-brand for the two of you.

You mask your thoughts further with a scoff of annoyance.

"Elle."

"Don't Elle me," she bumps you with her hip. "When was the last time you got a proper dicking down? Like really."

"I'm celibate," you lie snarkily.

"Oh come on!" she groans. "I know that's a lie. You know that's a lie. I mean, have you read the room? We are in Vegas."

You indeed have read the room. But that was besides the point. Isabelle has been so focused on creating a better life for herself, and she's done so much for you as well that you felt as if your presence at all times was mandated.

"I just don't wanna be all lovey-dovey in your face," you shamefully admit. "Especially since you're still healing from your own losses with love. Given your divorce from Eddie and all."

Isabelle rolls her eyes.

"Oh you mean the divorce that happened four years ago?!" she demands. "Almost five now, I think. Just because you're more likely to have a night to be celebrated and adored as a goddess, doesn't mean any of that is taken away from me."

You smile sheepishly at the floor, hooking your arms with Isabelle's as you two continue on your walk.

"Besides, I'm much older than you," she points out. "I've had my glory days. Now it's time for you to be selfish. Enjoy the rest of your 20s. What other place to do it than Vegas?"

She flashes a charming grin your way. "And I've got your back through and through."

"I love you," you beam at Isabelle tear-eyed. "You're the sister I never had."

“I love you too," she coos. "More than anything in the world. I'd be your non-biological sister in every lifetime if I could."

You two take a moment to fully admire each other, doing your little handshake you came up with when you met her in the early years of college, to honor your established sisterhood.

You and Isabelle against the world. No matter what.

Afterwards, Isabelle wraps you up in her arms as you two walk.

"Onwards, sweetheart. Let's go find you a King of your own.”

“I WANNA SEE YOU WORK OUT FOR ME. WORK OUT FOR ME.”

12:03 PM - Steve and Eddie

“Mmmh…fuck…shit.”

The room echoes with Steve’s strained grunts as sweat pools at his forehead.

It’s the workout of his life. But of course anyone would feel that way, running solely on coffee and a single scoop of creatine, right at peak lunchtime.

“Shit,” The King pants. "Don’t know how much left I got in me, Eds."

His pumps? Weaker. His reps? Gradually more incomplete. And with enough intensity to draw blood, Steve bites his lower lip in concentration, the grunting inevitably summoning Eddie over to his struggling friend.

The rugged metalhead leaps from the bar he was doing pull-ups from and strides towards the retired jock.

“You can handle it, Big Boy.”

Situating himself over Steve, Eddie floats his chalky palms over The King’s protruding chest, feet shoulder width apart and ready to spot.

“I…UGH— I…can’t!”

“Quit whining. I know you can.”

“I CAN’T! It’s too much…m literally shaking, Eds.”

“If you aren’t shaking you’re not doing it right,” Eddie Munson smirks. “Finish for me, Stevie, let’s go.”

The bulk of Steve’s arms relax and contract as The King pushes upwards, face scrunching in euphoric agony with every pump.

SLAM! CLINK!

Eddie's quick to swoop down to the base of the machine with one hand, reach extending to Steve with the other. Meanwhile Steve scrunches himself upwards, leaning forward on the bench as he wipes his forehead that was dripping with sweat. He's tapped out.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

“Yeah..." Steve pants as he collects himself. "Yeah. I am. Thanks."

Steve takes a moment to look at himself in the high-rise glass mirror.

Naturally the arms come into sight first. There's a foreign roundness to them, and an undeniable softening of Steve's chest that the girls at Hellfire call "broad and beefy", but he can only categorize it as "fluffy". His gaze then dips down to his tummy, an avenue once firm and washboard-like now presenting with a soft, undeniable curve. No abs. Just flesh... a sobering manifestation of what too many nights of dry gin and "The Eddie Special": Spice Level Unforgiven can do to a guy. And while others might call it a “Certified Dad Bod,” Steve never found the compliment flattering. It just reminds him—he's getting older. Living on borrowed time.

"Holy shit," Steve breaks the silence. "I need to lay off the margaritas.”

“Well now isn’t the time to do it!” Eddie exclaims, clearly doing pirouettes on the opposite side of the pendulum. "Have you read the room? We're in Vegas, baby! We need to be excretion-less, out, and ready to party by tonight!"

Finding it nearly impossible to match his energy levels, Steve studies ‘Sweaty Eddie’ as he downs his water, the protrusion of his razor-burnt Adam’s Apple bobbing with every large gulp, the B.O. radiating off his hairy armpits being enough to wipe out the entire state of Nevada with just one brisk movement.

“Man, how did you manage to get married before me?” Steve huffs. “Twice!”

Eddie laughs, keeping the water contained in his mouth with a swipe of his fingers.

“Was that supposed to be a dig?”

“Well you weren’t exactly hot shit in high school.”

“There’s your answer then," Eddie clicks his tongue as-a-matter-of-factly. He does a boisterous dance around his burnt-out buddy. "Ladies love the freaks.”

Eddie studies Steve as he continues to ponder in a tone-deaf abyss.

“That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about," Eddie emphasizes. "We’ve gotta get you out of that high school mindset, dude."

Steve looks up again. "Huh?"

Eddie shakes his head. “It's beginning to look like you peaked when you were 18..." He takes a minute to playfully check him out. "Which obviously isn't the truth. But operating from that headspace is what’s stopping you from getting a good lay. I guarantee you."

"That or I just don't have rizz..." Steve grimaces. "Or whatever Dustin always says."

Eddie grimaces with him. He really wished Steve would quit saying that. Or anything from Dustin's vocab bank for the matter. "Yeah. Right. Let's keep that shit a Dustin thing."

He sets his water bottle down.

"Alright Harrington, here's the plan," Eds scoffs. "Tonight we'll put on our best Gatsy cosplays, get some drinks to loosen ya up, and then meander around Jackpot so you can talk up some babes. Work on the confidence...w-"

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Steve shrugs. "I've got some emails I gotta reply to anyway."

“Oh come on. Think of all the honeys you’ll attract post-pump!” Eddie incentivizes. “Look at them ARMS, baby. Them ARMS!"

Eddie issues himself a seat next to Steve. Steve allows him the space, but doesn't appear to be sold on the plans Eddie had for tonight.

"Look, I'm sorry the girl of your dreams ended up with my bartender," Eddie begins. "And that I unintentionally stole your other dream girl when you guys began hitting it off pretty well... and that her best friend that you were madly in love with ended up being a lesbian and you didn't find out until after the two platonic outings. And that..."

"Are you trying to make me feel like absolute dog shit?"

"No, I'm turning this into an inspirational Ted Talk if you'd let me," Eddie scorns. "Fact of the matter is, Hawkins? Is Lover's Lake. WE..."

Eddie points in the opposite direction, south of The Strip.

"...have arrived at Treasure Island, baby! Lots of fish in the sea. Lots of beautiful women looking to have a good time. You can't make any progress in the same environment that drained you. You gotta lean into new beginnings. And maybe that means finding love in a city outside your comfort zone."

"Yeah, yeah. Just cuz I spawned into a new city doesn't guarantee complete past erasure," Steve mutters. "13 years later, but I'm still that same asshole ASB kid who gave others a hard time for validation. Maybe that's my karma. Maybe I don't deserve love."

"That's where you're wrong," Eddie snaps. "You ARE deserving of love."

It is that moment the two friends' eyes meet. It hurts Eddie to see Steve self-sabotage himself. He was so excited to come to Vegas with him and Shy Girl. Imposter Syndrome will ruthlessly make someone their bitch if they let it. Not today, though. Not under Eddie's watch.

"Your life is just beginning, Steve," Eddie emphasizes. "It pains me to see that you haven't seen your full potential yet. And just because this gentleman got his happy ending... doesn't mean there isn't one for you out there."

"Why do I always run?" Steve sighs. "Why do I always run away from good opportunities knowing full well I deserve to be happy too?"

"Because you're so used to rejection," Eddie snorts. "Believe me. Takes one to know one. You'll miss out on a lot of opportunity doing that. Which is something I'm not gonna let you do. For as long as you're under my wing."

The two friends then share an affectionate, and sweaty, hug. It took a lot of hashing out for these two to get to this point. They weren't exactly the best of friends in high school. But over time, when life reared its ugly head and all they had left was each other, the two gentlemen realized they were more alike than they thought. And that was a whole 'nother avenue of self-love they had to discover; and of course they did it side by side. Steve and Eddie forever.

“Whew, let’s go!” Steve whistles, getting out of his feelings for real this time. “We earned ourselves a Fat Tuesday!”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Eddie smirks. “Can't wait to hit the clubs and find you a hottie.”

"HERE I AM! ROCKED YOU LIKE A HURRICANE."

12:30 PM - Shy Girl and Nina

"If I can't find anything to wear, I'm gonna kill myself."

Shy Girl and Nina are found anxiously strutting around Fashion Show Mall, attempting to find some cute lingerie sets before their guest performances tonight.

"Bold of you to say for someone who looks good in everything," Nina scoffs.

The club they're performing at tonight is called Jackpot, a strip joint in the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester. It's no Hellfire, but the name of the game remains constant: CAPITALIZE OFF OF MEN'S DESIRES.

"I need something dramatic and sexy,” Shy Girl prowls. “Something Vegas has never seen before. Something to make me stand out for the tips. Something that screams... here I am."

"We can check Victoria's..." Nina suggests.

"Tried that. Eddie pretty much bought me every set from there."

"How about Love Loft on the second floor?"

"Their sets fit me weird. And I would like their wires to hold my titties up. Not puncture my lungs, thank you very much."

Spoiled with every piece of lingerie she could ever ask for, Shy Girl still had nothing to wear tonight.

It's expected coming from a dancer who has worn and done it all. Having rocked the city of Hawkins like a hurricane straight out of California, Shy Girl was just aching for some action elsewhere. And in light of her friend Steve's booming business over the past couple of years — and in celebration of her husband's early retirement from CEO-ism — why not bring the goodies to Vegas?

"What about this, Hargrove?"

"Ew. Too much glitter."

"Okay... this then?"

"Too little glitter."

"Bitch, if you don't just DECIDE!"

It's taken ages for Shy Girl to take up the amount of space that she does. And with this newfound confidence, there was no going back. During her time at Hellfire, Shy Girl had learned to become a goddess in her own skin, the baddest bitch who was deserving of the softest life; and there wasn't anything her controlling twin brother could ever do to change her mind. And even if he wanted to, he would have to get past those steel, metal bars first. Something that's remained unsuccessful for the past year and a half.

"It can't be too sparkly, but it also can't be too basic," Shy Girl notes aloud. “Something that hugs the girls just right, but isn’t too snug in the crotch area.”

Nina nods absentmindedly as they continue to patrol.

“Something that won’t cost an arm and a leg,” Shy Girl adds. “But also not something made by a child in a sweatshop.”

“Totally,” Nina hums.

They tread onward, having probably met their steps for the day, Shy Girl growing increasingly more agitated with every stride.

“I just want something that makes me look pretty, ethereal, and soul-snatching!" she grunts again. "Is that too much to ask?!”

“Something like that?”

Shy Girl turns in the direction of Nina's pointing finger. And in her field of view is the prettiest set she's ever seen.

"Are you kidding me?!" Shy Girl squeals in excitement.

Seductive and scarlet red. Tight, satin material embellished with extravagant-looking faux diamonds. The star of the set is the heart shape neckline, with showgirl-like frills at the hips that resemble an eternal flame.

Running to the display now, Shy Girl reaches over to fondle the set while Nina desperately sets off after her.

The set is more stunning the closer they got, with so much attention to detail, it was surely crafted by a girl's girl. Someone who knows what the people want and exactly how to get it. And also a woman who is calculated.

Lady in Red.

"It's even called Lady in Red, dude," Shy Girl beams, a prominent twinkle in her eyes. "This set is made for me. WHO IS THE MASTERMIND BEHIND THIS MONEY-MAKER? I could just kiss her."

“Hmm... Elle Warren," Nina reads. "CEO of Bright & Belle.”

Beside the set is a podium that show-cases the set's creator. She's smiling in her headshot, with a pink suit and her arms crossed, showing off her radiant smile, and even more radiant ocean eyes and Barbie-blonde locks.

"Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, bold, and UNSTOPPABLE. My mission is to empower women by turning pain into power. Bright & Belle is designed to celebrate all body types, all shades, and all sizes, offering a collection that makes every woman feel confident and comfortable in her own skin. I hope to become the rainbow after someone's storm, one sexy set at a time."

“Wow," Shy Girl coos. "She’s so pretty... and inspirational.”

“Biased much?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wh- look at her! Blonde curly hair? Piercing blue eyes, she looks just like you.”

“Maybe Billy and I have a triplet we just don’t know about,” Shy Girl theorizes, the conniving pearly-white Hargrove smirk reappearing on her face.

“Girl with the life you live, y’all might as well," Nina rolls her eyes. "Now c'mon. Let's go see what this club's all about. Bet it can't beat Hellfire."

9:00 pm - Sweets

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH A NIGHT OF SIN?"

“Now this… this is heaven.”

It appears that Jackpot is where the party is at. Isabelle's eyes light up with dollar signs when she observes the booths filled with patrons, stage badazzled with the sexiest dancers you both have ever seen, and a bar so full that there was hardly any room in the corners to wall-sit.

"Looks like we've got some impressions to make," Isabelle remarks. "That being said, I'll be in the powder room, if you'll excuse me."

You watch in disapproval as she issues a joking tap atop the tip of her nose. When she sees you scowling at her, Isabelle shrinks herself back down immediately.

"I'm joking, Sweets," she says. "I'm just going to the bathroom. You know that."

"With every joke there is a little truth," you mutter. "And you've been making a lot of blow jokes lately."

Isabelle was hooked on benzos and cocaine her first year of college. Granted, you both went to school in PULLMAN, the "hippie haven" of Washington State, so it didn't make her that much of an outlier.

But the abuse was heavy, most of it correlating with the abuse she endured in her marriage.

"Are you using again?" you accuse.

"No, honey."

"Then why'd you make a joke?"

"Because I thought it was funny. Stop looking so much into it."

You take a second to issue yourself some deep breaths. Noticing your distress, Isabelle gives you a consoling rub on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that joke," she frowns. "I know how much you worry for me. But I'm clean. I promise."

"Okay," you mumble.

Friends don’t lie. And Isabelle has never given you any reason to doubt her. So why should you?

"I'll be back," she excuses herself again. "Just gonna go use the lil Big Sisters’ room. We'll be shaking ass with the strippers before you know it."

You snort to yourself as she scampers out of your sight. Now it’s just you alone with your thoughts and yearning.

Isabelle's speech from earlier echoes through your ears once again. It's time for you to enjoy your 20s. College is over and you can finally let loose. So why did you feel guilty, wanting to roam free during Isabelle’s most pivotal moment instead of supporting her? You two have been joined at the hip for so long, it felt unnatural to exclude her from things. You wanted to do everything with your “big sister”.

"Alriiiight, ladies and gentlemen," the DJ announces as he transitions his performance track to a familiar 80s song. "Thank you so much for coming and supporting all of these beautiful dancers!”

The crowd erupts in rampant cheers and whistles. You clap along too, while scanning the room for a nice guy to talk up.

“We have a special treat for you tonight,” the DJ continues. “We’ve got some dancers from out of state, so give them a warm Las Vegas welcome…”

Your gaze piques in curiosity as the R&B track fades into a guitar riff, soon to be melted into a very familiar song from the 80s, critically acclaimed by people who lived on the edge of Sexy and Wild.

“…All the way from Hawkins, Indiana…” says the DJ. “…from the HELLFIRE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB...GIVE IT UP... FOR SHYYYY GIRLLLLL!"

The music now blares through the speakers as one of the dancers makes her grand entrance. And soon a specific corner of the room erupts in a frenzy the moment she fully emerges onto the stage.

"Here I am! Rocked you like a hurricane."

And she is a smokin' hot hurricane if you ever did see one.

You fawn over the stripper’s captivating eye make-up. Her bouncy, golden blonde hair with just as bouncy, perky, tits. And the ass on this chick? That thing’s got a zip code and a mind of its own. Just look at it go.

Everyone cheers, specifically two people in the corner, presumably her hometown peeps who flew out to see her perform. There's a girl with long, dark hair, and given her attire, you presume she's a performer too. There's also a man next to her, also with long hair and is most likely her partner, hooting and hollering as if he wasn't even allowed to hoot and holler at home, handing everyone around him some shots while he praised every move she made.

“What a fucking badass,” you say to yourself. "She's got the crowd by the horns."

And that captivating red set. It suits this ‘Shy Girl’ so well it almost makes you tear up. It is then not too long after that you realize you’ve seen this set before.

It’s one of Isabelle’s sets. One of your best friend’s creations. The Lady in Red.

"That's my wife!" the Van Halen-looking guy boasts proudly. "THAT'S MY WIFE! Doing amazing, baby!"

Your suspicions were correct. Shy Girl is that man’s wife. And what a lucky man he is. Urgently grabbing your phone, you go to shoot Isabelle a text about the dancer wearing her set.

to: Isabelle Warren

Girl come quick! A dancer on stage is wearing Lady in Red! She's really good!

Enamored, you watch as Shy Girl swoops down to her knees on the left side of the tip rail. She blows the bar a kiss. When your eyes follow in that direction, you see a — very attractive — man who seems to be part of that same group, judging by how they interacted with one another from across the room.

There's a glimmer, a familiar pining in his fiery, molten eyes as he leans back against the barstool, admiring the dancer from head to toe. When they meet gazes, Shy Girl winks at him and struts away.

The exchange draws you to reach two conclusions: the man is either secretly in love with this chick, or they've been friends for a really long time.

Suits was about to be deeply infatuated with you, though. With your sudden boost of confidence to want to approach him tonight.

Without another lingering thought, you strut over to the bar to greet the older piece of eye candy with your signature, warm grin.

"Hi there.”

But his reaction is the least of what you expected.

"Oh god," the gentleman sighs. "Did he send you to me?"

Confused, you take a look around.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh cut the crap, kid, I've seen it all before,” the man scoffs pessimistically. “What'd he promise you? Huh? Tickets to see Adele or Blue Boys? Free rounds of shots?”

"He didn't promise me anything," you huff in protest. "God forbid I actually wanna talk to somebody on a night out. Is this a trauma response because if so, this needs to be visited. In therapy, perhaps. Not a bar."

The ego — or lack of — of the guy seemingly deflates, a flushed red color appearing at the heat of his cheekbones before radiating to his ears.

"You mean you willingly came up to me?" he continues to stare in disbelief.

"Yes..." you narrow your eyes at the Pick-Me-Nice-Guy in front of you. "But something tells me I shouldn't have."

His gaze softens even more. It's apologetic now.

"It's not every day I get approached anymore," he says. "Usually I'm the one that does the chasing."

"Well, why not?" you shrug, deflating your ego along with him as well. "You're handsome, young, look like a fun time... How can the ladies not?"

It catches him off guard.

"Young," he laughs at this. "How old are you anyways?"

"23," you gaze at him through your eyelashes. "How old are you?"

"I'm 31, cutie."

You can feel your heart beating in more places than one. And when your eyes travel down to his lap, you're greeted by a warm and open manspread, the base of his knees angled towards your body, the same way his broad torso invites you into him.

You accept his advance.

"Oh come on," you blush. "That's not even that much older."

"Not that much older? Just you wait," he says with a slight chuckle. Your breath hitches his knee brushes against your ass. "Soon you can't drink the way you used to, your knees hurt, and you wake up ten pounds heavier than the day before. Trust me, I know."

"Rich coming from someone who's a few years removed from my generation."

And rich, judging by the intoxicating cologne that clung to his skin like a second layer. Rich, judging by the perfectly pressed, popped collar of his Maceoo dress shirt. Rich, judging by his wait-list only watch that rested neatly on his wrist, catching the glare from the strobe lights every so often.

"You're kidding," he snaps you back to reality. "You're really Gen Z?"

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you tsk. You watch as his pupils drastically increase in size the more you sway into him. "I'm part of the knows-what-they-want-and-gets-it type of crowd."

You nod to the bartender to start a tab for you. Playing it safe, you request two gin-and-tonics, offering a glance to the now more-than-receptive man in front of you.

"Can't relate," he breathes. "'m a millenial."

"Ah, the hate-my-life crowd."

"Better than the hate-my-wife crowd” he winks, subtly jabbing at the ever-so-argumentative Generation-X.

"Oh definitely," you agree, clinking your glass with his. "And I can tell by your friends you guys are the total opposite."

Both of you look back over at the his friends, and to your surprise, discover that the group is staring back at you as well. Group being the Shy Girl dancer's husband and the dark-haired dancer beside him. When your eyes meet theirs they immediately look away, but sheepishly smile to each other along with "do you see this?" type of nudges.

"So what's your deal?" you smirk, turning back to the guy. "You seeing anybody?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be here talking to you, honey," Suits smirks, his espresso eyes devouring you while his palm hovers over the small of your back. "I’m really sorry we got off the wrong foot. I’m Steve.”

You tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”

“You as well, Sweets.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I own my own business,” Steve smiles. “Been doing it a couple years now, and it’s really taken off.”

“What business is it?”

“I sell bobby pins,” Steve explains. It confuses you at first but you remain supportive. “But they’re a special kind.”

Intrigued, you watch as Steve digs into his pocket to fetch you some samples.

“My buddy Eddie over there owns a strip club,” Steve explains, nodding towards the feral, long-haired guy over in the corner. “And unfortunately one too many dancers have gotten roofied, so I made bobby pins that change color when it senses something weird in your drink.”

"Do they now?"

"They sure do," Steve nods proudly. "The bobby pins turn black if they detect the roofie drug. So if you think your drink's been spiked, that's a foolproof way for ya to check."

“This is very neat,” you beam, holding the pretty pink bobby pin in your hand.

You’re twiddling it between your fingers when you notice Steve’s breathing falter. He clears his throat for a brief second, before resting his hand slightly over yours.

“May I?”

You nod and allow him his bobby pin back.

There's little you can do except try not to melt, quietly swooning as the older man you're perched on gazes at you like a muse. His touch is gentle, as if you're a marble bust—his fingers brushing away the shorter strands of your curtain bangs, savoring the dimples above your chin.

“There,” he grins. “Now I can see those pretty eyes.”

You and Steve find yourselves getting lost into conversation, well past Shy Girl's set, and most likely way past her friend's as well. He tells you about his life back home and you tell him about your final year of college. The gloominess of Seattle. Your excitement about being able to start a new life. And when you reach to give him back his bobby pin, he gestures it away.

"Consider it a gift. If I won't be seeing you again, I'd at least want you to be safe."

“Who’s to say you won’t see me again?”

"Well," Steve chuckles into you. "Maybe you'll find some other sucker to charm and you'll forget all about me."

Closing up the space between you two, you shuffle yourself closer in between his knees, rubbing yourself teasingly against his iron-pressed lap while he wraps his strong arms around you to keep you in place.

“Oh don’t be so silly,” you hum, softly tracing his stubble before clasping his beating chest. “You’ll definitely be seeing me around.”

"You trying to give me your phone number?" he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I mean... I was implying that you’d see me walking around The Strip. Vegas is pretty small,” you point out. “But if you’d like to stay connected, I’m not opposed to that either.”

Steve tongue dances in his cheek as he stares you up and down.

"Or who knows," you add. "Maybe you'll see me at an Adele show."

Steve cackles at this, receptive to the teasing you're giving him and reeling you in as a response.

“Well, Sweets, if that's the case, then I’d love to see you again before I go back.”

You two exchange phone numbers, close out your tab, and Steve is on his way. Turns out, he's also part of the In-Bed-By-9 crowd, but tonight was considered a splurge. When he disappears from sight, you set out to find Isabelle.

Luckily, her golden blonde locks are easy to spot in the crowd.

“There you are!" you exclaim when you find her, hooking arms with her as you two start towards the tip rail. "I met a guy while you were gone. His name is Steve, he’s a CEO.”

“Such a CEO name,” Isabelle tuts. “But that’s amazing. Is he older?”

You nod, blushing. Isabelle squeals, ecstatic for you.

“Ugh, older men are the bestttt, girl. Where is he now?”

“Rounding up his friends," your eyes scan the room. "I think they’re done for tonight. His friend was one of the dancers and she was wearing your Lady in Red set. She's from Indiana too, but I forgot where.”

“And I missed it?!" Isabelle exclaims, completely engaged now. "Now you HAVE to point them out to me.”

So now you two are on a mission, peddling through the strip club like two lost sheep looking for their herder. After five sweaty drunks and lots of assertive "excuse me"s later, you're able to catch sight of the guy just by the back of his head.

“That’s Steve," you immediately point him out. "Right over there."

“Oh my god,” is all Isabelle says.

You turn to Elle and it's like she's seen a ghost. Panicked, you watch the color drain from your best friend's face in real time, followed by a nearly audible gulp in a pulsating room and obnoxious strobe lights. And for a brief second, it seems like Elle had nearly lost her footing, with how her knees seemingly buckled below her.

“Elle…" you nudge her. "A-are you okay?”

"Yeah… I'm fine...it’s just…” she stammers. “That's Steve Harrington."

"You know Steve Harrington?"

"More than you know."

Suddenly, her gaze shifts when she studies his friends.

It’s a look you’ve never seen before in your life. At least not on Isabelle’s face.

Her once radiant ocean eyes, so full of warmth and sunshine, have turned icy and sharp, like shards of broken glass. A tension builds in her face as her jaw clenches. You look down at her hands and see that they're curled inwards, as though she'd been fighting to keep a brewing anger from the depths of her, relatively silent, fury from erupting. And then, before you know it her ocean eyes flare with an almost palpable heat. Danger. Fire, almost.

"And the guy next to him?" Isabelle grimaces. "The erratic one with the stripper around his arm?"

Isabelle's lips tighten bitterly.

"That's Eddie Munson... my ex-husband."

🏷️ taglist: @xblueriddlex @angietherose @winchester-angel @aactuaaltraash @hugdealer @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @mediocredreams @bl0ssomanddie @corkadymu @eddiesguitarskills @mrsjellymunson @cadence73 @m-chmcl-rmnc @n-slayaaaaa @corrodedcoffincumslut @kennedy-brooke @micheledawn1975 @maisiepotatobeans @1deverland

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Phineas and Ferb fascinates me from a structural standpoint. I'll admit I haven't watched the show front to back, but I've caught the odd episode here and there and I certainly get the gist of it.

The first time I saw P&F it seemed charming but unremarkable, the second and probably third time it became obvious that it was a clever but formulaic show. At some point it clicked. Children's shows are usually formulaic, Dee Dee will destroy Dexter's invention, Elmer Fudd will fail to hunt the Wabbit, He-Man will defeat Skeletor, and Sisyphus will roll that boulder up that hill. Phineas and Ferb asks not just that we imagine Sisyphus happy, but that we imagine that he is ecstatic to see that boulder roll down the hill.

Where the status quo is an unspoken rule of older cartoons it is the explicit law of the P&F universe. There is a roadmap to every episode, you probably already know it but I will spell it out regardless. Phineas will say the phrase "I know what we're gonna do today" thus kicking off their project for the episode. Candace will try and fail to get them "busted". There will be a musical number. Meanwhile Doofenshmirtz will have made an -inator that Perry will be called upon to destroy. Perry will get caught, Doofenshmirtz will explain his plan, Perry will escape, destroy the -inator and the ensuing chaos will clean up Phineas and Ferb's backyard shenanigans just in time for their mom to get home. Ferb says something at the very end, often his only line in the whole episode. The end.

There are stock lines that must be said. "I know what we're gonna do today" "I wonder where Perry is" "Busted" "🎵Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated🎶". The show doesn't just have a cartoon status quo, the universe operates off of the laws of cartoon status quo to the extent that characters actively notice when the cycle doesn't complete correctly. The characters seemingly know that their world operates on cartoon physics, but to them it's just physics. In P&F a giant whirlwind carrying away a giant backyard amusement park is as natural as gravity.

Candace's place as the character who knows this is all insane must be a tortuous existence considering the whole world is conspired against her. Not out of a cosmic meanness but a deep thematic kindness. Candace is the only character whose intent is to cause purposeful harm and the universe will not let her get away with it.

Truly this is one of the most unerringly kind shows I've ever seen. It is unreal how much faith it puts into wordplay, running jokes, and raw absurdity to carry itself while never stepping into the realm of cartoon cruelty.

You know cartoon cruelty. It's why Tom gets punished for Jerry's actions and why the Trix rabbit can never eat his own damn cereal. At its best cartoon cruelty manifests as Ed, Edd n Eddy or the Looney Tunes short Duck Amok where there is catharsis in seeing the characters hoisted by their own petard. At its worst you get CatDog which is so intensely cruel to the character of Cat that I can't comprehend what the writers were going for.

The confident lack of irony is part of what makes Phineas And Ferb work. The show is a parade of cartoon cliches and dad jokes and it never it never winks at the viewer or lampshades how silly this is. It just has absolute faith that the corniest jokes ever really are that funny. And so they are. I actually laugh out loud every time they do the "Aren't you a little young for this?" "Yes, yes I am" bit. Maybe it's the delivery, maybe it's just the confidence in the bit. Probably a bit of both. I am smiling to myself just thinking of this dumb running joke.

But what this all amounts to is what every bit of fandom wankery amounts to. I am of course talking about shipping. For my money the best bit in the show is the romantic framing of Doofenshmirtz and Perry's rivalry. This is where the show's cartoon logic and unrepentant kindness synthesize perfectly. The homoerotic undertones of the spy/supervillain dynamic are an extremely tired observation and are usually only emphasized in an ironic sense to poke fun at pieces that never intended the gay subtext. P&F flips this joke by not being even a little bit ironic about it, but still adhering to the unspoken nature of the gag.

The end result is that Perry and Doofenshmirtz's status as a romantic couple is tacitly understood to be part of the shows status quo, but never commented on. The world of P&F is too inherently kind to be homophobic (homophobia being a key component of the joke) but it still has a joke shaped hole to fill. So it does the funniest possible thing and fills the hole with nothing. The joke is the lack of a joke. The expectation of a joke that is met with a shrug from the show's own internal logic. And that's really funny. An evil scientist and a platypus are in a loving relationship that happens to also be a hero/villain rivalry. Don't worry about it. It's not the weirdest thing happening in the tri state area I promise.

[twopoppies]

It's like Michael Jackson and Mathew Perry and who knows who else that hasn't died yet. These yes man "assistants" attach themselves to vulnerable celebrities with substance problems and find sources of drugs for them. Everyone along the way is just happy to make money off them. So fucking sad. How do you trust anyone when you're rich amd famous.

That's exactly what it feels like. I think that's one of the reasons Harry and Louis both seem to hold on to people they've known for a long time. It must be so hard to know who to trust.

[vintagetvstars]

Rod Serling Vs. Raymond Burr

Propaganda

Rod Serling - (The Twilight Zone) - Imagine, if you will, a man taking on issues of totalitarianism and censorship in Cold War America...

Raymond Burr - (Perry Mason, Ironside) - "He's arguably best known for film roles... but you have got to see him as Perry Mason. Defense attorney constantly dropped into "easy win for the prosecution" cases and flips them upside down. Maybe not exactly conventionally handsome, but rugged. He has this private little smile when he's about to grab a loophole or mistake the prosecution or a witness has just left for him that I find very endearing..." Full text propaganda included below the cut

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Rod Serling:

"The writer’s role is to menace the public’s conscience. He must have a position, a point of view. He must see the arts as a vehicle of social criticism and he must focus on the issues of his time." -Rod Serling

Raymond Burr:

He's arguably best known for film roles... but you have got to see him as Perry Mason. Defense attorney constantly dropped into "easy win for the prosecution" cases and flips them upside down. Maybe not exactly conventionally handsome, but rugged. He has this private little smile when he's about to grab a loophole or mistake the prosecution or a witness has just left for him that I find very endearing. (I haven't seen any of Ironside so I can't speak on his performance there, but I think it's necessary to include in the submission because while he wasn't actually a wheelchair user in real life, it was the first ever crime show with a disabled main character and I genuinely can't think of another show like that with a *title* character using a wheelchair, particularly of the 60s and 70s.)

This guy had a million hobbies including orchid cultivation, stamp collecting, winemaking, raising cattle and sheep, and founded an association that created a dictionary of the Fijian language. He was a big animal guy and had - from what I've been able to tell - at least a couple dogs (he's noted as one of the first people to import Portuguese Water Dogs to North America), some cats, and a duck. He gave insane amounts of money to charities and was recorded as having sponsored at least 26 foster children with medical needs. He spoke openly about lifelong struggles with weight & image (and about the difficulty of finding acting work when you don't fit the studio hottie build, they made him lose 60+ pounds before they would cast him as Mason despite outperforming their other option in court scenes) and rejected every offer to do a particular popular talk show after the host had started making multiple unprompted jokes about him and his weight. He created numerous inconsistencies in his own life story that, after his death & revelation of a 30+ year relationship with a man he had met during the filming of Perry Mason, have been assumed by both press and people that knew him as intentional exaggeration to keep suspicion of homosexuality low. Absolutely fascinating guy to me, every new fact I learn about him boggles.

[wrestlingisfake]

I've seen conflicting reports about Jack Perry's reception at Windy City Riot. Since I was there I'll give my two cents.

Speaking for my section of the building, nobody seemed to actually hate Jack, but they knew their role. He was trying to provoke Chicago, and it was more fun to let him do that than not.

I think this is the key to understanding smartass chants in Chicago, or smartass chants in general. Wrestling fans like to pop themselves, and each other. It's funny to be in CM Punk Land and chant "CM Punk" at a heel who hates CM Punk. It's funny to see a little pretty boy try so hard to be an edgelord, and chant "Luchasaurus" at him, because he'll never escape his old gimmick where he rode a dinosaur man to the ring.

Extending this logic: It's funny to be in Chicago, after two weeks of CM Punk/Jack Perry drama, and be one of the fans chanting "Let's go Scapegoat." It's funny to see Jack trying to be a badass and chant "You got choked out" because--dude, we all saw the footage. But it's way, way funnier to chant back "No he didn't" because--dude, he was only in that hold for like five seconds. It's even funnier when this becomes a dueling chant, because the fans at home will see how bonkers this town is. And then the most hilarious thing is when Perry responds by putting Shota Umino in a guillotine choke. We loved that shit.

Towards the end of the match people were chanting "GTS," because it's Punk's finisher. Originally I thought they were asking Shota to do it to Jack. But then Jack laid Shota out and they were still doing it, and Jack signaled for a GTS and the place went nuts. And then it didn't work and the place went more nuts.

I don't know if you could hear the "Thank you Scapegoat" chants on the broadcast. But after the match everybody appreciated this guy. We wanted a local villain and he gave us our money's worth. Maybe if he'd won, he would've been booed out of the building. But I think this was the right finish to prove that it's okay to bring Jack Perry back to AEW. Chicago hates him the way Boston hated the Brooklyn Brawler, not the way Montreal hated Earl Hebner. He'll be fine.

[finnydraws]

Girl Dad Rhett/reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/ Female Reader

Word count:575

Description: Life with a lovely cowboy, who loves you and your child very much

genre(s) fluff, slice of life

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/childbirth, mentions of not great parents and insecurities.

Rhett was terrified the first time you told him you were pregnant. His brain just showing him bad memories of his childhood, and of the way Perry treated Amy. He was so uncomfortable with it, that he blocked it from his brain and you had to tell him another 4 times before we was ok.

He starts treating you so gently, don’t expect to go ANYWHERE without this man following you.

The bathroom? He's right outside the door. You’re cooking? He’s there, burning whatever it is you let him help with. Don’t even think about trying to go into town without him.

He buys and stocks up on all of your cravings.

He goes to every. Single. Appointment. At one point Royal asks him to help around the farm and halfway through the task, Rhett leaves him with no warning to get to the appointment on time.

Cried like a baby when he saw you were having a little girl (even though he thought he wanted a boy at first he couldn't imagine anything other than his life with his daughter)

He builds and paints all of her furniture, shades of green and yellow while you draw designs onto the wall. Rhett won't let you touch the paint. Something about chemicals.

When it's time to start buying clothes he needs a second to collect himself after seeing just how small the shoes are in his big hands.

He spends ALL his money on clothes, toys, pillows, blankets. Books, you name it.

At one point he’s half asleep and asks if you think he’ll be the favorite parent, asks if she’ll even like him, and if he can take care of feeding/ comforting her at night.

Tells every person in town about his daughter and keeps the latest ultrasound on his person.

Invites so many people to the baby shower (most people don't come but he invited them nonetheless)

Does not invite perry, he actually tells perry he better not show up.

When you go into labor he panics for a good 10 minutes before packing you into the truck, and speeding to the hospital, if a cop tried to stop him he wouldn't know.

Your baby Iris Cecile Abbott is born at 3:42am on June 10th, about 16 hour later

Y'all steal everything from the hospital room (babies are expensive and if you're already gonna pay for you might as well use em)

Rhett calls his mother to tell her first, bawling as he holds his daughter that he swears has your eyes

Iris is a daddy's girl as she grows up 100%, begs him to take her around the property and look for toads or snakes. He teaches her to ride a horse and she goes into the rodeo (tie down calf roping when she's older, and barrel racing)

Every time Iris competes, Rhett's the loudest one cheering, he definitely shouts stuff like “that's my baby!” and “go on baby! Get em!”

When she hits puberty Rhett nearly cries because he thinks his baby won't want to hang around him anymore

Will check in on her in the middle of the night, make sure she's ok and sleeping well

He 100% tries to intimidate her partners so only the good ones stick

Definitely spoils her though. If she did something small like failing a class she knows she can just say “I'm sorry daddy, I'll do better next time” and he's gone

[starrybl1ss]

Last Friday Night

Sub loser!ellie x popular dom fem!reader

💌: hi hi hi!!<3 omg!!! Im finally writing again xoxo, anyways sorry for not serving more fics!! been busy:(

WARNINGS: alchohol, smut, praising, fingering

• summary౨ৎ

(Reminder: r! and ellie are in senior high (18 y.o))

Reader hosts a massive party for all the seniors at her mansion while reader's parents arent home.

𔘓

Friday nights are the best, specially when your a rich business man's daughter. He goes on business trips almost every weekend.

Your mom always goes with your dad. As a kid you always went with them every weekend. You've grown up, things are different now.

You now either host slumber parties, parties generally, or just stay alone in a huge mansion until you feel lonely and go on your phone choosing one or two of your many friends to come over.

This friday night is just another party with all the seniors invited. Everybody loves you (or your money) either way, you get your way in everything.

The room smelt like sweat. Neon lights flashing everywhere, couples here and there making out in corners that made you feel a little left out since you broke up with your boyfriend just last month.

You then brought up some treats in the middle of the crowded room with everyone bumping into eachother.

"Treats? Anyone?" Nobody really answered you. They were all too busy. The music was also really loud.

You got a little anoyyed so you walked away and sat on a chair againts the wall next to another girl.

The girl was silent. You gazed to the crowded room watching your friend, Dina, grabbing attention.

"Anybody wanna do beer-pong?" She yelled out. The crowd all yelled out "yeah!" At the same time.

"How about the party host go first?" Dina said as she looks at you followed by everyone. All eyes on you.

"Yeah! Sure.." you stood up and looked at the girl next to you. "You.... coming?" You asked her. "Sure, behind you"

You got to the table and took a ping pong ball then threw it into the plastic cup. You did it! Everybody cheered.

You grabbed the cup with alchohol and drank it all. Everyone cheered once again. You let out a small smirk.

You passed the ball to the person next to you without looking at who it is as you left. Turns out it was the girl you sat next to earlier, ellie williams.

She took the ball and threw it, she scors! Everyone cheers again and some people pats her back as she drank it.

Ellie passes the ping pong ball to another and left the table heading to the guest bathroom

𔘓

You entered to guest bathroom, you don't usually go here often. This was just the closest bathroom located.

You didn't fully closed the door since you were just touching up your makeup.

You grabbed your red lipstick and smeared it on your lips topping it with lipgloss. Feeling a little daizy with your head hurting you walked towards the door.

You don't drink that much, thats why your not used to it cause you get drunk easily.

As you were about to leave the gap between the door opened wider. Someone was entering. It was ellie.

"O-oh sorry, i didn't know there was somebody in here. T-the door wasn't locked and i just entere-"

You got closer to her grabbing the neckline of her black t-shirt and squinted your eyes. "What's you name again?" You smiled.

"El- ellie" she muttered. "Ohh yeahh, i've seen you around" you got closer and closer. Practically pressing your body againts her making her back up.

And there you are, drunk as fuck from alchocol.

You were pinning her to the door as your hand roamed around the door finding the lock and immidiently locked the door.

"Sh-should i get back outside or-" she stutters. You grabbed her face and pressed your lips againts hers making her let out a small gasp.

The kiss was messy. Your lipstick and lipgloss smeared all over her lips, jaw and even her cheeks.

"I'm sure nobody would mind if we stay a little longer..." you whisper in her ear making her shiver. "I mean, do you mind...?" You whisper again.

"I wouldn't m-mind" she replied trying to avoid eye contact.

You were a little shorter than her. You grabbed her neckline again but this time, from under her shirt.

Maybe if you weren't so drunk, this wouldn't happen. Atlas, it did.

𔘓

Things escalated quickly, You got her out of her clothes. Ellie sitting againts the wall with you infront of her.

"Your pretty" You said to her as she blushes. You lift up her chin while tilting your head, smirking like a maniac.

Without her even realizing you pumped on of your fingers in her sloppy cunt making her gasp.

"Shit...." You pumped another finger in, curling them. "Good girl" you praise her. She breathes heavily under you.

"I c-cant do this a-anymore" she said. "You can, your such a good girl" you insured her.

Ellie whimpers, over and over. "Shh.. were going to get caught" you informed her.

You both hear a knock on the door, shit... someones at the door.

You both stood up as ellie puts back her clothes next to the door, hiding as you open the lock and poked your head out a little.

Its Dina. "God, your taking so long! I thought you never used the guest bathroom anyways?" She complained. "It's my place. I go wherever i want Dina. Theres another bathroom next to the kitchen"

Dina looked like she was about to ask you something but she turned away and left.

You took a deep breath and head back in. You smirked at ellie "let's just get out of here" ellie nods.

𔘓

💌: GODDDDD SUB LOSER ELLIE GOTTA BE SO SENSITIVE:(:(

[whencyclopedia]

Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) was an American philosopher, writer, naturalist, and political activist. He is best known for his book Walden, published in 1854, which recounts his two-year experiment living alone in a small cottage at Walden Pond two miles outside Concord, Massachusetts, and his essay On the Duty of Civil Disobedience written in 1849 shortly after his release from a Concord jail for non-payment of a poll tax.

Early Life & Transcendentalism

Thoreau was born in Concord, Massachusetts, on 12 July 1817. He studied at Harvard College and his worldview was shaped by transcendentalism, a belief in the divinity of human nature, which was not a coherent philosophy but an attitude or state of mind that inspired many American intellectuals who flourished between 1820 and 1860. The movement's foremost representative, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) had given the Phi Beta Kappa commencement address at Harvard with Thoreau in attendance. Other notable transcendentalists were Margaret Fuller, Louisa May Alcott, Walt Whitman, and Bronson Alcott. They were young Americans who had been born into the Unitarianism of New England. According to Perry Miller in his American Transcendentalists, they responded to the new literature of England and the continent "revolting" against the rationalism of Harvard College. Although Protestant, they turned against the Protestant ethic, choosing instead to cultivate the arts of leisure to avoid making money. To some, it was intense individualism, but to others, it was sympathy for the poor and oppressed. Morris wrote: "…the self-reliance and self-determination exalted by the transcendentalists gave to American writers a freedom that vitalized the first period of national letters." (600)

Thoreau graduated in 1837 without distinction and returned to Concord; he viewed Concord as a microcosm of the world. Instead of seeking employment like his fellow graduates, he chose instead to become an observer and interpreter, a "thinker of thoughts, a student of nature and of literature – half-scientist and half-poet" (Mead, 112) He tried teaching for a while and even land surveying. In Walden he wrote, "I did not teach for the good of my fellow man but simply for a livelihood, this was a failure" (65). He even worked for a time in his family's pencil factory. An occasional odd job provided him with enough money to be clothed and fed. He became friends with Emerson, who took him into his home (1841-43) and offered him advice on the craft of poetry and writing. Thoreau moved briefly to New York, living with Emerson's brother, to try to sell some of his essays and poems, but he was unsuccessful.

Continue reading...

[silver-screen-divas]

Happy 89th birthday to Nancy Kovack!

Kovack played the female lead, bad girl Sophie Renault, opposite Mike Henry in “Tarzan and the Valley of Gold” (1966).

Born Nancy Diane Kovach on March 11, 1935, in Flint, Michigan, she attended the University of Michigan and worked as a radio announcer while winning a series of beauty contests. Kovack then moved to New York, where she worked as one of Jackie Gleason’s “Glea Girls” and served as a presenter on “Beat the Clock”, and as an anchorwoman on “Today” and for “The Dave Garroway Show”, while earning extra money through modeling and commercials.

A role on Broadway in “The Disenchanted” (1958-59) led to a Columbia Pictures contract, and her film debut, “Strangers When We Meet” (1960). Additional big-screen credits include “Cry for Happy” (1960), “The Wild Westerners” (1962), “Diary of a Madman” (1963), “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), “The Outlaws Is Coming” (1965), “Sylvia” (1965), “The Great Sioux Massacre” (1965), “Frankie and Johnny” (1966), “The Silencers” (1966), “Enter Laughing” (1967), and “Marooned” (1969). On television, she appeared in popular series like “12 O’Clock High,” “Burke’s Law,” “I Dream of Jeannie,” “Batman,” “Perry Mason,” “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” “I Spy,” “Star Trek,” “The F.B.I.,” “Family Affair,” “Get Smart,” “Bewitched,” “Mannix,” “Hawaii Five-O,” “Get Smart,” “Bronk,” and “Cannon.”

Following her marriage to Los Angeles and New York Philharmonic Orchestra conductor Zubin Mehta, Kovack retired from acting.

[earthpleasures]

BON APPÉTİT !

Pietro Maximoff x fem!stripper!reader

Summary: Just a boring mission, what could do wrong?

Warnings: MDNI +18 / swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), body worshipping (m. receiving), dry humping, overstimulation, praise, nipple sucking, throat fucking, dom!reader, sub!pietro.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: istg some kind of horny demon took me over to write this

"'cause I'm all that you want, boy

all that you can have, boy

got me spread like a buffet

bon a, bon appétit, baby"

- bon appétit by katy perry.

Blinding lights of the strip club were pricking right into his eyeballs, making it hard to observe his surroundings. His hand rested on the header of the comfortable couch. He would be lying if he said the ongoing show wasn't appealing. However it wasn't why he was here.

He could run much faster than sound but he couldn't knock the formula this club's owner had in his palms. If Stark's calculations were right, and they always were, the tube carried formula may be made of bulletproof material but it wasn't going to stand the speed Pietro would be pushing on it when he runs.

Foolish, he thought.

He scoffed as he swirled his whiskey in its glass. Where the hell was this man? He couldn't possibly take news of mission and fly out of his grip. But Pietro's careful eyes couldn't spot the motherfucker.

As music came to an end, the crowd let out exaggerated protesting noises. Mood rose back to its original rhythm when new dancers took their places on stage. Another song began to play, one he could evaluate with the term ‘lively’ rather than the previous erotic one.

He really wanted to be done and go back to the compound. Obnoxiously loud sound of Katy Perry was going to damage his eardrums if they kept blasting the goddamn speakers like this.

Song was slowly rising to its peak, men and women around the strippers were throwing money every direction in the company of obscene profanities. Their desperation made him nauseated. Damn, some people have zero dignity.

It wasn't like he was going to catch the owner anytime soon, so he made a decision. Why not enjoy the show while time passes?

He couldn't choose who to watch, they were all dancing excellently. No wonder it says ‘VIP’ on the front. But that wasn't his concern anymore because his eyes, in fact, caught a girl.

Dusty pink hair, a black leather set left too little to imagine, painful looking heels.

There was no fucking way that hair was her own hair, it had to be a wig to look this perfect.

His eyes locked to her figure, moving flawlessly. On her knees, her body rippled against the pole with the roll of a professional, long crimson nails slowly climbed their way to her neck from her crotch.

‘Cause I’m all that you want, boy,

All that you can have, boy.

She stood up languidly and wrapped a leg around the pole. Letting herself fall backwards, she arched back, pushing her breasts up. Arms extended forward like she wanted everyone to reach her, touch her. From the distance, he could barely read a line from her lips.

Bon appétit, baby.

He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on his leather couch. The pants he wore began to tighten around his lower body, he could feel the sweat beads rolling from his neck all the way down to his abs. This wasn't good.

Nudging a palm over his obvious erection didn't relieve any tension his stressed body carried. He bit inside of his mouth, chewing on his cheek's tissue. His fingertips itched to touch, to feel.

After a swipe of his tongue over his lip, he raised his hand slightly, signaling a waiter to come closer. Waiter looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Anything sir?” He pointed at the dusty pink haired girl on the stage. “What's her name?” Waiter turned his head back to pinpoint the stripper in question. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Nice taste. Celestia.”

When Pietro narrowed his eyes with a confused who the fuck would name their child ‘Celestia’ stare, he couldn't contain his snicker. “It's her stage name. We’re not allowed to give out their real names unless they're willing.” Pietro wanted to laugh, atleast club gave their strippers some rights.

“Makes sense. I want a room for Celestia.” Waiter nodded as he noted down his name. “Enjoy your ride, buddy.” He smirked before refilling his whiskey glass. Pietro didn't say anything back to the man as he retreated to the suffocating crowd.

When show came to an end, one of the waiters headed in his direction and gave him a ticket-like paper. The red, glowing calligraphic sign was placed in the right direction of his seat.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his weight up to make his way. The hallway was long, housing many rooms, different light colors were leaking from under the doors of some of the rooms. Music sounds were almost deaf to ears, he guessed the rooms to be soundproof.

Attendant unlocked the door for him after checking his room's number. Before letting him in, he stopped Pietro. “As I can see, it's your first time here, mate. There are two rules. You have twenty minutes with stripper and it is absolutely forbidden to touch stripper.” After a nod of his head, he was allowed in.

The inside was as good as he expected. A pole, white leather couch and lights were placed in the room. Black walls surprisingly didn't feel claustrophobic. It didn't seem like any camera was placed around.

His palms were sweating, perhaps from excitement, perhaps from stress.

Couch was comfy, it felt like sinking into the clouds. His breath hitched when he sensed a click on the door handle. Adjusting his position, he gulped down the lump sitting on his throat. I shouldn't do this. I am here for a mission. This is so wrong. Wanda is going to kill me-

His flowing thoughts were cut with her entrance. He could see the sinister lust emitting from her eyes, doubting she looked at all of her clients with such intensity. “So, today's delight is you.” She mumbled as she came closer step by step, quicking his pulse unnecessarily.

She licked her lips while dropping her hands on his knees. Leaning forward, her red painted lips ghosted over his ear. “Interesting to see a thing like you here.” One of her hands fastened on header of the couch to help herself as she strangled his lap. She groaned in surprise when his hard-on pressed against her.

“Woah, you're a big boy, aren't you?” All he could do was to look up to her like a stupid puppy, waiting for her to do something since he couldn't touch her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, rocking her hips back and forth against his clothed cock. He moaned through his clenched teeth. ‘Fighting his inner demons’ would be the name he would give to his urge of groping the tits in front of his eyes and mouth.

“You would’ve felt so good inside.” She pouted mockingly, her hand running on his hair. “But we ain't getting time for that.” A subtle chuckle left her lips. “Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?” His lips quivered before answering her question.

“No, it's just… you. You're so mesmerizing.” Well, it was too late to take his words back once they left his mouth.

I think my brain just short circuited.

“Aren't you a sweet talker?” She whispered as her manicured nails traveled down, trailing a line between his abs over his shirt. “Normally, I would've given you a nice lap dance and maybe some humping.” To press on her statement, she rocked her hips harder to his crotch.

“However, I decided to do you a favor.”

She got off of his lap. “What, no.” He reached out in a panicked state which was stupid due to no-touching policy. “Easy, I am here for the next sixteen minutes.” She smirked, standing over him with a hungry gaze. It's been so long since she had any actual intimacy with anyone and he looked like a delicious treat.

She got on her knees, her hands massaged his firm thighs. “God, men like you should be put in a museum.” She breathed as she ran her hand over his bulge. Her fingers didn't even fumble on his zipper, immediately pulling it all way down after she undid his jeans’ button. He lifted his hips to help her as she pulled his boxers and pants down to his ankles.

Her pupils dilated as she focused on his cock, it was resting on his stomach with a painfully red tip. Her thumb pressed on his tip, smearing bead of precum over his skin. He let out a pathetic whimper. “I-i.. is this o-okay?” He almost quacked during his sentence when she spat on his shaft and wrapped her hand around it.

“Probably not. But they will understand a girl in need.” She looked up to him.

Disheveled hair, hazy eyes, flushed cheeks. I want to swallow him.

He was getting impatient, but still didn't move. What was meaning of moving if he couldn't touch her?

It took just a lick from bottom to top for him to buck his hips. She held his hips firmly, settling him down. “No, no. Let me do my thing.” He bit his lips, maybe hard enough to withdraw blood. “Please, I've been waiting-” Her mouth suddenly enveloped his cock, taking it half way with her eyes observing his reaction.

He cried out due to shock, clawing at the fabric underneath his grip. His hand reached out to tangle his fingers to her hair, but before he could, she caught his hand. She pulled away from him. “No touching.”

Sizing up his strong figure, she made a shift on her plan. “Take off your shirt.” His trembling fingers peeled the tshirt of his body. She could feel her mouth going dry with the sight of his bare torso.

Before she could control herself, her fingers wandered on his firm chest and abs. His pale skin was stained with scars. Almost each of them looked like they were telling a different story.

She rose on her knees, running her tongue on his abs. Texture of the scars caught on her tongue, causing him to clutch onto one of the cushions and bite inside of his mouth.

She pressed her thumb on his nipple, feeling it harden under her touch. She circled her finger on his areola, wrapping her lips around the neglected one. A moan left his lips.

Satisfied and encouraging by the noises he let out, she draped her arms around his waist, pushing him against her mouth.

“W-wait-” She pulled away with a pop sound, leaving his chest aching. “What's wrong?” She asked as she pressed a kiss to one of his scars, then to another, then to another.

He looked down at her. “It's too-”

“Overstimulating? That's the purpose.” She smirked at his naiveness.

She sucked marks all over his chest, kissing each of the scars and soothing the ache she left with a run of her tongue. His labored breaths became unstable during her treatment. God, it fucking felt like being worshipped.

And finally she went back to her original plan. Hand wrapped around his shaft, she began to stroke him. “You're not some kind of loser who has no hole to fill, are you?” She planted a kiss over his tip. “You're different.”

She suckled on the tip, treating it like a tasty lollipop. “Well, can't say I care.” Without breaking eye contact she went down slowly, inch by inch. Even after all the times she gave a blow job, she couldn't deep throat him like she wanted to. His tip reached the back of her throat, hitting there repeatedly as she bobbed her head.

Tears filled her eyes, forcing her to let go of him. He didn't care about the shitty policy, running his thumb over her cheek and wiping her tears away. “You don't have to if it's hard for you.”

But she didn't let him rest, jerking him off when she didn't have him down to her throat. “But I want to.” Her free hand tangled her fingers to his, bringing it to her skin. “Touch me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“But I thought-”

“I am letting you.”

And that was enough for him. His both hands cupped her cheeks. He leaned down and smashed his lips against hers, tasting the smeared lip gloss and himself. Getting impatient, she pushed him back to the couch.

She put her hands on his thighs to balance her weight as he tugged at her strands pushing her all the way down even though she gagged around him. She hollowed her cheeks and pressed her tongue underside of him while he bucked his hips somewhat violently, fucking her throat on his pace.

She cupped his balls, massaging them to encourage his orgasm. She could sense his legs shivering under her palms. He was close. With thought of it may help, she moaned around him, and it worked.

He shot down rope after rope to her throat, not even allowing her to breath. Aftermath of the orgasm was violent on his body. His cock twitched as she pulled out and got up.

Strangling him again, it was her turn to kiss him. It was sloppy, teeth against teeth with a mix of lust and rush. He remembered the fact he was allowed to touch, so he did. His hand roamed on her skin, pressing her against his chest.

Red light illuminated the room. Time to part.

He wiped her lips with his shirt, fixing her hair as much as he could. “Will you be okay? What if your boss gets angry?” He questioned, hands softly placed on her waist.

She giggled. “He will understand. Women have urges too.”

He laughed. “You're a surprising woman.” He said as she got off his lap.

“Sure I am. And I would like to see you again.”

With one last peck over his bruised lips, she parted from the room. Leaving Pietro behind disheveled and exhausted.

Now, how was he supposed to explain the wasted time he spent in the club and the hickeys to the team?

©2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[yesimtrashforit]

Film quotes I love/that changed my life

Dead Poets Society (1989)

• John Keating: "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

• Neil Perry: "I was good. I was really good."

• John Keating: "There's a time for daring and there's a time for caution and a wise man understands which is called for."

Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)

• CEO Waymond: "When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything."

• Alpha Waymond: "Every rejection, every disappointment has led you to this moment. Don't let anything distract you from it."

• Waymond: "The only thing I do know... is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind. Especially when we don't know what's going on."

• Jobu Tupaki: "I wasn't looking for you so I could kill you. I was just looking for someone who could see what I see, feel what I feel."

Little Women (2019)

• Jo March: "Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they've got ambition, and they've got talent, as well as just beauty. I'm so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for. I'm so sick of it.

But I'm so lonely..."

• Amy March: "Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person."

Theodore 'Laurie' Laurence: "I think the poets might disagree."

Amy March: "Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman. And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him, not me. They would be his property. So don't sit there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it most certainly is for me."

• Jo March: "If I were a girl in a book, this would all be so easy."

• Meg March: "Just because my dreams are different than yours doesn't mean they're unimportant."

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

• Charlie: "I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters because I might be too busy trying to participate. So if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school, and you helped me. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about or know someone who's gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don't happen. And there are people who forget what it's like to be 16 when they turn 17. I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll all become somebody's mom or dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening. I am here and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you're listening to that song and that drive with the people you love most in this world. And in this moment I swear, we are infinite."

• Patrick: "You see things and you understand. You're a wallflower."

Donnie Darko (2001)

• Dr. Lilian Thurman: "Do you feel alone right now?"

Donnie: "Oh, I don't know. I mean, I'd like to believe I'm not, but I just... I've just never seen any proof, so I... I just don't debate it anymore, you know? It's like I could spend my whole life debating it over and over again, weighing the pros and cons. And in the end, I still wouldn't have any proof. So I just... I just don't debate it anymore. It's absurd."

Dr. Lilian Thurman: "The search for God is absurd?"

Donnie: "It is if everyone dies alone."

Dr. Lilian Thurman: "Does that scare you?"

Donnie: "I don't want to be alone."

• Donnie: "How's it feel to have a wacko for a son?"

Rose Darko: "It feels wonderful."

• Donnie to Cherita Chen: "One day everything will be better for you."

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

• Kat: "You don't always have to be who they want you to be, you know?"

• Kat: "Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

The Holdovers (2023)

• Paul Hunham: "There's nothing new in human experience, Mr. Tully. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man's every impulse and appetite from the disgusting to the sublime is on display right here all around you. So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember, if you truly want to understand the present or yourself, you must begin in the past. You see, history is not simply the study of the past. It is an explanation of the present."

• Angus Tully: "He used to be fine. He was better than fine. He was great. He was my dad. Then about four years ago, he... started acting strange. Erratic, forgetful, saying all this weird shit. My mom took him to a bunch of doctors, and they put him on medication. But that just made it worse. He got more confused. Then he got angry. And then he got... physical. That was it. That was the last straw. They put him away. And she divorced him... without him even realizing it. That's why she wants a whole new life. And it's easy to just stash me away in boarding school. Like half of us are just stashed away there. And I get it. She never has to look at me. Because maybe when she looks at me, she... she sees him. Maybe she's right. I can't keep it together. I lie. I steal. I piss people off. I don't have any friends, real friends. I'll probably get kicked out of Barton too. And when I do, it'll be my own fault. Get sent to Fork Union and maybe to youknowwhere. And nobody will care. The funny thing is... I wanted to see him so bad this whole time. But I also didn't, you know? Because I'm afraid that's what's going to happen to me one day."

Paul Hunham: "You're not your father."

Angus Tully: "How do you know?"

Paul Hunham: "Because no one is his own father. I'm not my dad. No matter how hard he tried to beat that idea into me. I find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me. I think you and I have this in common. But don't get me wrong, you have your challenges. You're erratic and belligerant and gigantic pain in the balls, but you're not your father. You're your own man. Man, no. You're just a kid. You're just beginning. And you're smart. You've got time to turn things around. Yes, I know that Greeks had the idea that the steps you take to avoid your fate are the very steps that lead you to it, but that's just a literary conceit. In real life, your history does not have to dictate your destiny."

• Paul Hunham: "You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder: shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday, you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don't, I feel sorry for you and we will have failed to do our jobs."

Barbie (2023)

• Ruth: "Humans have only one ending. Ideas live for ever."

• Gloria: "It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we're always doing it wrong. You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass. You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean. You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas. You're supposed to love being a mother but don't talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining. You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It's too hard! It's too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault. I'm just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know."

• Ruth: "We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back and see how far they've come."

• Barbie: "I want to be a part of the people that make meaning. Not the thing that's made. I want to do the imagining. I don't wanna be the idea."

• Ken: "We were only fighting because we didn't know who we were."

• Sasha: "You have to try. Even if... Even if you can't make it perfect, you can make it better."

Her (2013)

• Theodore: "Sometimes I think I have felt everything I'm ever gonna feel. And from here on out, I'm not gonna feel anything new. Just lesser versions of what I've already felt."

• Samantha: "The past is just a story we tell ourselves."

• Amy: "We are only here briefly, and in this moment I want to allow myself joy. So fuck it."

I Saw The TV Glow (2024)

• Maddy: "Time wasn't right. It was moving too fast. And then I was 19. And then I was 20. I felt like one of those dolls asleep in the supermarket. Stuffed. And then I was 21. Like chapters skipped over on a DVD. I told myself, This isn't normal. This isn't normal. This isn't how life is supposed to feel. If you don't think about it, it can't hurt you. I found our hearts and they were still beating. There is still time."

[numinously-yours]

Pick a Hippo: What do you need to hear?

I know I say it all the time, but I DO want to do more readings for you all. Today's is a simple "what do you need to hear"?

I know you may be finding it hard to define your life’s purpose, but don’t be hard on yourself because it’s taking longer than you thought it would/should. You are doing a lot of introspection and soul searching. Perhaps you are about to embark on a new adventure and having your sense of self makes you feel like you’ll do better. Having an open slate can be just as great a tool going into a new part of your life, though.  Keep holding on by Avril Lavigne came on at the end of the reading. Just keep believing in yourself and your journey. Trust that The Hermit’s lantern will light your path. You’re getting there!

You got all kinds of songs with your reading! Starting with Fireworks - this is from Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix. In the scene that this song is in, Fred and George Weasley are officially embarking on their own adventure. They are no longer tolerating Dolores Umbridge’s regime or abiding by anyone else’s standards. They are making fun, bright, beautiful magic with their fireworks. Human by Christina Perri started once I was about to interpret the cards; it made me think that right now you may be subscribing to other’s wants of you. Since this song started after I began my notes, I think this cycle is ending and your magical side is about to burst through. Then the Brave soundtrack started… You are meant to start this individual journey!!

The first thing I read that resonated with me for your cards and for this reading is “don’t keep pushing forward”. You may be finding it difficult to trust your own intuition or to do your own thing without the comforts of the people you are used to following. But The Hanged Man tells me that separating yourself from the wants and needs of others is going to do you SO well. Continuing to push through the discomfort, anxiety, and unsureness that comes along with this is only doing to delay your progress. Your inner strength is going to propel you to the life you deserve.   

My biggest piece of advice on this day is to be mindful about your intentions – especially concerning finances. You have a business opportunity or you’re planning a major event (trip, wedding, moving, something of the sort) and you need to be cognizant about how much money you’re putting into it. Be responsible with the spending habits. As I was reading keywords for the King of Wands, I read “you are inspired by long-term, sustainable success” and at the same time Eminem raps, “Success is your only mf-ing option.” There’s no better way to interpret this than Sustainable success is your only mf-ing option. You can absolutely invest in this venture, but do it smartly. Remember the long term affects and what will make the biggest (and most positive) impact.

If money is not on your mind, the cards can also be referring to relationships and the part you play within them. You are a strong leader and have a vision, but don’t make decisions which are paid for by the foundation of the relationship.

Lastly, music in general may be a good meditation tool for you. The main line of this song is "lose yourself in the music". Let yourself be lost <3