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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

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Stripped

punk!steve x rockstar!eddie x stripper fem!reader

summary: the two men you crushed on in high school, find their way into your club. They’re shocked to see the pastors daughter, the cute shy little church mouse is now stripping, but that’s not who you are anymore. Both men who also crushed on you in high school are eager to see, just how much you’ve changed.

⚠️warning: SMUT 18+MDNI, in this au steve was also apart of the freaks of hawkins high, sorry no king steve here, mmf threesome, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, p in a sex (female receiving), oral (m and f receiving), spit roast, double penetration, dirty talk, hair pulling, spanking, use of sir and master, Eddie and Steve kiss, squirting, cream pies.

A/N: god, this au really has me hot and bothered! (Please remember to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

photo edits of Steve and Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

It’s the busiest night of the week at foxy’s cabaret. The clubs pink and red lights accentuated your two piece red faux leather bikini, the bottoms were extra cheeky which only meant one thing; it was gonna be a good money night.

You didn’t go on for another hour, so you made your rounds scoping out possible customers that would like a private dance, you had already done three, all 60 minutes each. So you were ready to go on stage, make your money and go home.

These nights were mostly accompanied by older married men, looking to blow off steam from their wives. Most of them used you as a marriage counselor, spouting off terrible things about their spouses. It made you feel gross to have to listen to grown men, whine about how their wives are “always bitching” because they want their husbands to be home more, while they’re here getting a lap dance by you. But it was all part of the job and you’ve long learned how to de-compartmentalize it all. This was about money and nothing else.

Finally you’re called out on stage, you saunter on in your red pleasers that matched your two piece perfectly. You felt so hot tonight, and all eyes were on you, as you swung your hair and shook your ass on the pole.

Eddie had just gotten home from a big U.S. tour with corroded coffin. Him and his best friend Steve hadn’t seen each other in a year, so what better way for two friends to catch up then with some beers, hot chicks and tits. That being the exact thing Steve said to convince him to come out tonight. Eddie was kind of over the “hot chicks and tits” having seen too many to count at his shows and on the tour bus. That being said, he couldn’t turn down the chance to hang out and drink some beers with his best friend.

Eddie and Steve instantly felt out of place among all the older, rich, suit and tie assholes. They both wore band tees and vests, that show cased patches of their favorite bands. Not to mention the numerous amounts of tattoos they had; both had sleeves on each arm along with neck and face tattoos. They were definitely being thrown dirty looks by the older men, while the strippers were giving them both “fuck me eyes”. They were stopped by a few girls, to ask if they wanted private dances as they fan girled over Eddie Munson being in their club. The boys declined and Eddie kept the small talk to a minimum.

As they moved closer to the stage, your red bikini and shiny hair caught their attention. They both grabbed seats in the front row, eyes glued on your body. Steve couldn’t place it, but he had seen you somewhere. Eddie couldn’t even think as his eyes took in the sight of you, now with your legs wide open as your thighs shook and your pussy lips almost spilled out of the tiny g string.

Once you began crawling to the front of the stage, swinging you hair away from your face, Steve took you in, not your body, you. His eyes widened at the realization.

“Holy shit, dude,” he says, as he nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow.

It took a second for the trance Eddie was under, while watching you to break.

“What, man?” Eddie says, eyes not leaving you as he leans in closer to Steve.

“That’s y/n, you remember y/n? From high school?” He says in disbelief

“No fucking way!” Eddie almost shouts

That catches your attention, you look over at them. Your eyes scanning over their tattoos, clothes and then finally taking in their faces. Your heart rate began to pick up.

Holy shit, that’s Eddie and Steve.

You hadn’t seen them since high school, you had been enamored with both of them. They were considered freaks for the way they dressed and their music taste but you didn’t give a shit. They were always nice to you and um, hello? They were hot as hell.

You bought weed from Eddie once when you were feeling particularly rebellious, you ended up smoking it in the back of his van with them, they were really sweet, and maybe a little flirty, but at that time you were so shy, you had absolutely no confidence to even bring yourself to flirt back. You were not the person you are now, that’s for sure.

Once your set is over, you walk off stage and decide “fuck it, you’re not that little shy church mouse you use to be in high school.” Yes, your father was a pastor, which made what you do for work all the more shocking.

“Eddie? Steve?” You say as you walk up behind them. They’re deep in conversation, leaning in to each other while they whisper, back and forth.

They immediately turn towards you, their cheeks look flushed and they almost look nervous.

“Y/n? Wow, how’ve you been?” Steve breaks the ice first. They stand up and each lean in for an awkward hug, almost like they didn’t want to accidentally touch your exposed skin.

“I’ve been good, how’ve you guys been?” You take in their faces better, now that they’re up close. You haven’t kept up with Eddie and his band much, mostly since you’re always busy working, but your club will occasionally play “Indiana’s very own corroded coffin” as your boss likes to calls them. The last time you officially seen them was at Charlottes grad party, and that was years ago. They’ve gotten even hotter since high school with all those tattoos, piercings and the facial hair. your eyes were shamelessly roaming their bodies.

“Actually would you guys like a private show? It would give us a chance to catch up?” You look from Eddie to Steve, silently hoping they’d take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, yes. Let’s do it.” Steve says

Eddie’s mouth still hangs open, he’s clearly in shock. You figure it’s because of your prude, church girl image you had in high school, being such a big jump from the girl now standing in front of him.

“Cool, follow me.” You lead them to the private rooms, that sit behind heavy red velvet curtains. Their eyes are glued to your ass in that little g string, they’re being hypnotized by the way it jiggles every time you take a step.

“Here we are.” You open the curtain and motion them inside.

The room is small, a black leather couch sits in the middle, along with a couple chairs, underneath lays a shag rug, while just above the couch holds a red neon sign that reads: “girls, girls, girls”

“You guys can take a seat, do you want anything? Bottled water or another beer?” You ask with a polite smile.

Both boys shake their heads no, but thank you for the offer. You decide to take up the seat in between them, it wasn’t very much space, leaving their legs to rub up against yours, but you had no complaints. Their rough jeans against your soft skin, shot a thrilling tingle straight to your core.

“So?” Eddie finally speaks, “how long have you been doing this?” His eyes begin to scan your face, admiring your soft, delicate features. Features he use to spend hours day dreaming, about. His eyes began to move down to your tits, he wanted to be a gentleman, but he didn’t exactly come here for that. So he decided to indulge.

“Oh, um. It’ll be a year next week, actually.”

They both nod their head, taking in your answer. It feels a little awkward, like theirs something they want to say or maybe ask, but then Eddie begins, again—

“Your dad still the pastor?” you could tell he wasn’t trying to make fun, just a curious question. One you get a lot, but more so in a mocking tone.

“Uh, yeah yeah, he is. But we don’t talk, for obvious reasons,” you say as you gesture to the room around you.

“Yeah, I could imagine. So, how does a good girl like you get mixed in with this?” Steve asks, partaking in the curiosity.

“Well, I had to get out of my parents house, ya know? I wanted to live my own life, so I ended up moving in with my roommate brandy, she had been doing this since she was eighteen, she offered to help me get the job. It’s fun, brought me out of my shell a lot, I’m not that little shy girl you remember.” You didn’t mean for the last line to come out so suggestive, but both Eddie and Steve’s eyebrows shot up, in intrigue.

Making Eddie lean into your ear and whisper, “put on a show for us then, baby.” The tone made you shiver with equal amounts, nervousness and excitement. You’ve grown accustomed to your job, rarely ever feeling nervous before a dance, but right now in this moment in front of Eddie and Steve, you felt that timid girl you once knew creep back into your consciousness.

You stand up, doing your best to push it all down. Slowly swaying your hips as gimme all your lovin’ by ZZ Top, plays in the background. You keep eye contact with each of the boys as you do your little routine. Their eyes roaming the expanse of your body, as they begin shifting in their seats, something most customers do when you know you’re doing a good job. The thought of making their cocks hard underneath their pants, gave you the burst of confidence you needed.

You straddle Eddie’s hips first, leaving him to tense in surprise, so you grab his hands that are folded across his chest and place them on your hips, bringing your glossy lips up to his ear, “you can touch me.” You whisper.

As soon as his hands find your skin, he begins rubbing over your hips and thighs, slowly moving down to your ass, taking two handfuls and squeezing before they’re moving back up to your hips. You look over at Steve who’s intently staring at you both, so you take it upon yourself to bring him closer. “Cmon, you can touch me too.” You say with a doe eyed smile. You grab his hand and place it just under Eddie’s.

“Oh yeah? You want both of us to touch you, princess?” Eddie continues to whisper to you. Smug smirk adorning his face as he looks over at his best friend, you couldn’t make out what they were trying to silently tell each other, but it made your stomach flutter. You were excited for this to go where it seemed to be going.

Steve swiftly lifts you by both thighs, placing you on his lap with ease. His hands roaming your body, as he leans in to whisper to you—

“Please tell us, you want this as bad as we do, baby?” Fuck, their voices alone were making you soak through your little panties.

“I-I do, I want you both. I have since that time I smoked weed with you and Eddie in the back of his van.” You giggle, making your hips jerk over Steve’s hard on. The friction made a whine slip out of your mouth.

The boys laughed at the memory, until they heard you, the whine caught their attention. Steve’s face switches to something more cocky

“Mmm, did that feel good, sweet girl?” He grabs your ass and rubs your core over his cock again, this time making you both moan out in tandem.

You bite your lip as you nod, while eddie scoots in closer to you both, he begins playing with your bikini. His calloused fingers rubbing over the swells of your breasts, hardening your nipples that lie under the red fabric. His fingers find the strings in the back, that are holding the bikini together.

“Can I take this off?” He asks softly

“Yes, please.” desperation has now taken over your voice

“Mm, and she still has her manners. Such a good girl.” The praise doing nothing to help the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Once he gets all the strings untied, he slowly lets it fall onto Steve’s lap. Your tits now on full display for them.

“Holy shit.” They say in unison. Eddie’s jaw clenches, while Steve groans. They each take one of your tits in their hand, squeezing and pinching at your nipples. Every little touch shooting straight to your core.

You’ve never done this before, you knew a lot of your co workers would give blow jobs or have quickie’s with their customer for extra cash, but that was never something you were comfortable with doing.

Yet, here you are, engaging in a threesome with two men you were obsessed with in high school, one who is now a big rockstar. The thought makes your head spin.

Steve grabs you by the back of your hair, pulling you out of your thoughts, as he interlocks his lips with yours, you allow his tongue entry while Eddie is moving his neck kisses down to your chest. He takes your nipple into his mouth and lightly sucks, gently teasing you. You whine into Steve’s mouth, breaking the kiss to look down at Eddie, his big brown eyes already looking up at you through his thick lashes. Your furrowed brows and pouty lips were almost enough to do him in, right then and there.

“So eager and impatient.” He growls as he slaps your ass, hard.

It makes you jerk in Steve’s lap, simultaneously moaning at the friction.

“Naughty girl, likes being spanked.” Steve says as he looks to Eddie, mischievous smirks taking over their once flushed faces.

“Now who would’ve guessed that?” Eddie says, making them both laugh. You feel like they’re laughing at you, but you’re too far gone to care.

Steve grabs your chin, turning your head back towards his and Eddie’s, smiles no longer on display, the air became thicker as you swallowed down the excessive saliva now coating your tongue. “You think you can take both of us at the same time, princess?” Your eyes widen at the thought of both of their cocks inside of you, it makes your stomach flip and you eagerly nod as if you’re a child being asked if you’d like some candy.

You’re by no means a virgin, you’ve had your share of one night stands and an occasional boyfriend here and there, but anal is still uncharted territory for you. You can’t lie that the prospect does excite you though, you would do just about anything they asked of you right now.

“Words, sweet girl. You need to use your words with sir and master.” Fuck

“Yes sir, yes master.” You said wantonly

“Good girl.” Eddie now had his hand wrapped around your neck, lightly squeezing

“This is what’s gonna happen.” Eddie starts “you’re going to lay down on this couch, while me and Steve get you ready for our cocks, how’s that sound, pretty baby?” His words are filthy, but his tone and smile are so soft, you could swear you were transported back to high school, they were making you fall in love all over again.

Love? No, no way. Don’t be crazy

“Yes, sir.” You nod, getting up from Steve’s lap

“Fuck, she’s so obedient.” Steve says to Eddie, like he’s enamored by you. Can’t believe you’re real.

They stand up, allowing you to lie down on the squeaky, old, black leather couch. As you lay, body flush against the cushions, you open your legs wide for the boys as they take in every curve, burning it into memory. Steve starts by taking off your stilettos, placing gentle kisses at the top of your foot, moving up to your calf and over your knee, stopping in the middle of your thigh, while Eddie palms himself through his jeans, admiring the scene in front of him.

Surprisingly, this is something Steve and Eddie talked about quit a few times in high school, they both wanted you. The time they smoked with you in the van, they were going to make a move but decided they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you were so shy and timid but Eddie couldn’t deny that little shy demeanor you had really got him going. They both thought you were beautiful, sweet and cute as fucking button.

They were disappointed after you all graduated and they still didn’t make their move, even at Charlottes grad party, but you had been on the arm of Chip Reynolds. Coincidentally, you also lost your virginity to him that night, after one too many shots.

“Can I take these off, baby?” Steve hooks his index fingers inside the red material of your g string, but looks up for your answer before he proceeds. You nod your head, while you bite down on your lip, granting him access by lifting your hips. The room around you feels hot, as you hear; looks that kill by Motley Crue booming through the club speakers.

Before Steve widens your legs, Eddie walks around you and Steve and takes a seat on the couch, by your feet. Not wanting to miss the view, they’ve been dreaming about for years.

“Open those pretty legs for us, baby.” Eddie says as his fingers walk up your leg, you gasp when you feel the spine tingling sensation shoot through you. You want to squeeze your legs together for some kind of relief of friction, but you know better. So instead you hike your legs up, like you’ve done so many nights before, for men who don’t truly see you, you’re a sex worker to them, someone there to appease their needs. You begin to wonder if that’s how Eddie and Steve see you now, but you can’t dwell on that thought.

You’re now bare and on full display for them, your juices creating a glistening coat on the outside of your well trimmed pussy. Steve and Eddie audibly groan at the sight, insecurity began creeping up as they gawked, but you didn’t know they were equally losing their restraint.

Steve’s the first to trail his hands towards your sex, slow and agonizing. The tips of his fingers barely grazing your skin, just enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. When he finally gets to where you’re dying to be touched, he starts by rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, he finds your clit and begins slowly drawing small circles. They take in every expression and whine you give them, eating it up like the only sustenance left on earth.

“That feels so good, Steve.” Your mouth falls open as the pressure of his fingers on your clit, pick up. Finally giving you the right amount of friction you’ve been begging for.

Eddie starts taking his cock out of the confines of his black jeans, the tightness being too much for him to handle. As you hear the zipper you lift your head up, not wanting to miss anything. Once you’re met with Eddie’s cock, your eyes widen and your jaw drops, it’s fucking beautiful —

“Well thank you, pretty girl.” Eddie snorts

Fuck, you’re so far gone, you thought you said that to yourself.

But it is, so beautiful. About seven and a half inches, thick and veiny, the spongy heads an angry throbbing red, precum beading at the tip.

“See, told you, you had a nice cock, Munson.” Steve says, before sending you a wink. That mischievous smile making its comeback. The insinuation making your pussy pulse, as more wetness continues to glaze your outer lips.

Eddies cheeks, blooming a pretty rosy pink at Steve’s words. You could tell he was uncomfortable diving in deeper to the depths of what was said, and you didn’t want to push it, no matter how curious they left you.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?” Eddie now asks, leaning in closer to your thighs, while he continues stroking his heavy cock.

“Yes, master.” You say, trying not to sound as eager as you felt.

Steve stands up and begins fiddling with the button of his red and black plaid pants, riddled with different patches, some you’re able to make out: circle jerks, misfits, buzzcocks and minor threat to name a few. They look interesting, maybe you’ll remember to check their tapes out whenever you go to your local record store.

Your thoughts quickly being broken by Eddie’s tongue swiping over your clit, making you moan out a “oh my god!” In surprise

Steve’s cock springs out, and bobs in the air. A little bigger than Eddie’s but not by much, the tip matching his best friends; angry and red. They’re both fucking beautiful, and you want them inside you so bad.

Steve starts fisting his cock as he walks up towards your face, “Aw, no complement for my cock, baby?” Steve mockingly coos

“You’re both beautiful, you and your cocks. Want them so bad.” You moan, as your hips buck up towards Eddie’s tongue, which is now fucking your hole, before moving back up to circle your clit.

“Mmm, that’s better, sweet girl. Now open wide for me, kay?” Steve says as he begins tapping his cock against your lips. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, Steve audibly growls at your obedience before he’s plunging it into your mouth, he grabs a fistful if your hair working you up and down on him, just the way he likes it. Meanwhile Eddie, takes it upon himself to insert two fingers into your wet weeping hole, making you moan around Steve, the vibrations making his cock twitch, deep in your throat.

Eddie’s tongue continues lapping up your juices as Steve is fucking your throat, the whole scene making euphoria pass over you, as if you were high off the best drug. Their cocks were your drug, and they were giving you the perfect high. Eddie’s fingers hit that spot inside of you, that always has you gushing. You scream out, as he’s relentlessly hitting it. Both boys, slowly becoming more and more aggressive. But you did not mind, in the slightest.

Your muscles start tensing and your legs start shaking, as your pussy spasms around two of Eddie’s heavily ringed fingers.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight baby, I can’t wait to fuck you. Mmm, Cum for us, pretty girl.”

Eddie’s ministrations speed up, making your toes curl.

You release Steve’s cock with a pop, as you begin moaning and screaming.

“I’m cu-cumming, fuck don’t stop, master please!” Eddie’s fingers speed up, as wet squelching fills the room. You cum with a splash of wetness to Eddie’s chin and neck, making him growl.

“Fuck, you’re a squirter? Goddammit, you’re fucking perfect.” He’s so ready to be inside you, that he’s willing to spill all his dirty secrets and the feelings he’s harbored for you throughout the years.

Steve is on the other side losing his shit over the way you’re sucking his dick and the fact that you just squirted all over his best friends face. They needed to fuck you, want was out the window.

Eddie gets up from his laying position between your thighs, he brings the back of his hand to wipe the juices that he wasn’t able to lick away, while Steve pulls you off of his cock and back up onto your feet.

Steve sits down on the couch first, before his fingers are pressing into your hips and he’s guiding you to straddle his naked lap, having completely removed his clothes before sitting down. Once fully seated he takes his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes before he looks at you with eyes that could make you puddle right there on the floor.

“You ready, sweet thing?” He asks while he beams up at you, awaiting your answer but also admiring your beauty while trying not to blow his load at the fact that the girl he spent so much time admiring from a far when he was a teenager, is now seated on his lap, naked.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.” Your words coming out so sugary sweet, making his head drop to the back of the couch, as he does his best to pull it together. He’s never had this problem before, you were completely ruining him, making him feel ways he hasn’t for any other girl.

He lifts his head back up, looking you in the eyes as he takes your chin between his fingers, his other hand still stroking himself. “You’re such a good fucking girl, you know that?” He says with a smirk

Eddie’s off to the side, watching the whole display closely. “She is such a good girl? Isn’t she Harrington? I think it’s time we reward her with both of our cocks. How does that sound, princess?” You moan, while your hips grind down on to Steve’s precum coated cock.

“Yes, please. I need sir and masters cock inside me.” If anyone from your congregation could see you now, they’d think you’d been possessed by some sort of sex demon, the way you were moaning, groaning and writhing about on top of Steve’s lap, you even felt like it in that moment.

Steve finally breeches your soaked hole, making him shudder beneath you. As you begin sinking down on to his cock, inch by delicious inch, Eddie comes and sits on the back of the couch where Steve’s head is resting, he’s stroking himself with the most devious smirk, pupils blown black from lust. If you were being possessed it would be Eddie’s doing.

“Get me nice and wet, baby. Need to be able to slip into your asshole with ease, okay? The sloppier the better.” He winks, while you quickly obey. Opening your mouth and allowing yourself to sink down on Eddie and Steve, simultaneously.

Steve grabs the globes of your ass and starts his own pace while helping you bounce on his aching cock. You’re gagging on Eddie, tears rolling down your cheeks as spit falls from your mouth and down onto the leather of the couch cushions. Both boys eyes are rolling back into their heads, they’re in fucking heaven. In that moment they both have the same thought— they never want to let you go.

Eddie pulls you off as he wipes up the remaining spit hanging from your chin, bringing it down to stroke his already glistening cock, and rubbing the wetness over his balls before he’s behind you, opening up your ass cheeks and using his spit to rub his middle finger over your puckered hole. “I’m gonna put my fingers in first and loosen you up, a’right?” You look back at him, eyes all doe like, lips swollen and wet from his cock. Fuck, you were a captivating portrait of beauty, if he’s ever seen one.

“Yes, master. Please,” broke him out of his thoughts as he breeched your virgin hole with the tip of his finger, making you groan in pain and pleasure. Finally, his finger is fully seated in you to the second knuckle, while Steve begins rubbing your clit as he still fucks into you, “you’re doing so good pretty baby, so good for us.” Steve whispers into your ear, as Eddie’s finger starts moving faster in and out, you can’t contain the screams that are falling from your mouth. Steve continues— “I know baby, I know. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise you, it’ll start to feel so fucking good, okay? You’re gonna love it by the time he’s done.” His words making you bounce back on his cock and Eddie’s finger. “That’s it, princess. Fuck my finger.” Eddie growls.

“I’m gonna put a second one in, okay?” Eddie says as he slips the second one in with the first, this time it goes in smoother, sinking to his tattooed knuckles. “Oh, fuck-” Steve cuts of your moans by bringing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss, of tongues and spit, moaning into each others mouths as you get both your holes filled.

Once Eddie thinks your ready, he gets up from his kneeling position, holding out his hand under your chin as he demands you to spit, then doing the same to Steve. He rubs the mixed spit glob onto his cock for extra lube, he doesn’t want this to hurt you, he wants to make it as pleasurable as possible. Once it’s to his liking he lines his red tip up with your pink throbbing hole, he pushes in and fuck, it’s an indescribable feeling, but it’s so good.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Eddie groans, pushing even deeper inside you. “You’re so tight baby, fuck I’m not gonna last long, I’m just letting you both know that now.” He chuckles making you and Steve laugh, too. “I’m so close, been edging myself this whole time.” Steve says

Finally, Eddie is bottomed out inside of you, grabbing your hips but not moving until you give him the okay. “Just let me know when you’re ready, sweet girl.” — “I’m ready, please eddie, I’m ready.” He grabs a handful of your hair and yanks it back until you’re looking at him upside down. “It’s master, remember? I’ll let that one slide since you have two cocks inside you and you’re too fucked dumb, to think. But, next time I will punish you, do you understand?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, master. I’m sorry.” You want to cry, not for being reprimanded but from the sheer pleasure of it all. “That’s my good girl,” he says leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

They both start pounding into you, it’s almost too much but you wouldn’t dare ask them to stop, not when the knot in your stomach is tightening and you can feel yourself reaching that ultimate high.

“Fuck, Steve I can feel your cock hitting mine.” Eddie growls, making Steve clench is jaw and throw his head back. “Mm, you like being able to feel my cock inside her, big boy?” Steve nods his head, while moaning out expletive after expletive.

Them talking dirty to each other while inside you, was about to throw you over the edge, along with their hands that wouldn’t stop rubbing and grabbing at your skin, taking handfuls of whatever they could.

You lean forward and put your head against Steve’s shoulder, while they continue to fuck you, the slight shift giving them better access to your holes, but also bringing Eddie and Steve’s faces closer together. Eddie smiles and winks at Steve as their cocks moved in and out in unison, meanwhile Steve grabs Eddie’s hair and smashes their lips together in a heated kiss. The smacking of their lips brings your attention back to them. It was so insanely hot, making you clench tightly around both boys, Steve pulls away first, “fuck, I think she likes that. You like watching me and Eddie kiss, angel?” Steve says in a mocking tone, all you can do is nod your head, as your high hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my fuck, im cumming, holy shit.” You wail as you squirt all over Steve’s cock and lower stomach. Steve couldn’t hold it any longer, your moans and the splash he felt against his lower half, made him lose it. “I’m cumming, fuck where do I-” he says before you cut him off. “Inside, both of you, I want it inside please!” You whimper

Eddie takes your chin in his hand, turning your face towards his and kissing you deep and passionately as he follows right behind Steve, both boys empty themselves inside your tight, clenching holes. You continue milking them dry until Eddie pulls out slowly, followed shortly by Steve.

Eddie lifts you up and softly put you down so that you’re seated on the couch as he falls down on the cushion beside you.

“Wow.” You three said in unison, making you all laugh out hysterically.

Once the laughing stops, you’re all met with comfortable silence as the background noise from the club penetrates your ears, and you’re brought back to your surroundings.

Then the silence is broken as Steve asks, “So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Thank you for reading!

•taglist•

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@ilove-yourmoms-f33t @roxanamaier64 @daniellabrandt @thoughtsoftheantagonist @agalsmaraudersobsession @harrycanyonmoonn @steveharringtonswifey09 @ashdoctor @luna-munson83 @randodummy

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aww-canon-no · 1 year

Text

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary: And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him. It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice? Im crying? This fandom is so soft. Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight. This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

***

The train is quiet. In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud. And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that. Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it. When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice. They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train. The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him. It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit. He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it. It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down. And Eddie does feel sympathy for him. Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time. And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate. He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.

But he’s not a monster. He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better. That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down. It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day. Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though. He’s not quite there yet. At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him. After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch. Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry. It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing. ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts. ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand. Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed. Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend. He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs. ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him. ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students. It’s not your average ASL class. It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something. It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist. ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. ‘What’s your stop?’ He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand. Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb. ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch. Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him. ‘Sleep,’ he tells him. They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s. But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes. He’s asleep before stop four. He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is. Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs. His fingers are nice. Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin. Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him. Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from. But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better. A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either. He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts. ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise. That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf. At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five. Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it. His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine. ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods. That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly. ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head. ‘Nineteen STITCHES. CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces. He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have. Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs. ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk. Tried everything. Fail.’

Eddie winces again. ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs. ‘They removed tumors. Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense. And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it. As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek. Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back. He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye. ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs. Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever. It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train. Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah. Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down. Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class. And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie. He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it. He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back. His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful. Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again. ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes. Hard. So hard he gets a little dizzy. ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard. ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public. Like, hearing public. Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath. ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously. ‘I was tired,’ he repeats. His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall. Stalks a step closer. Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye. ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts. Stops. His hand hovers in the air. His shoulder. His own Eddie? ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him. It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again. ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats. He needs Steve to get it.

And oh. Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now. Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it. He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah. Yep.

Yes.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs. ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

#Steve Harrington #Deaf Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Deaf Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #steve x eddie

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

Text

Steve’s maternal grandfather was a classically trained pianist. He traveled all over the world as a concert pianist before retiring around the time Steve was born. He takes a job as a church pianist and buys Steve a baby grand piano so he can teach his only grandson how to play. Steve learns how to play piano and read music before he learns how to read books.

His grandfather dies when Steve is 9, and his mom gets upset whenever she hears Steve playing, because it reminds her of her dad, who chose the piano over her most of her life. So, Steve stops playing, not wanting to upset his mom. She tried to sell the piano, but no one in Hawkins is interested, so it stays covered with a bedsheet and locked away in the former music room.

Steve picks it up again when his parents start fighting and his mom starts going on business trips with his dad. He finds himself spending long nights at the penchant, fingers dancing across the ivory keys. He’s rusty at first, but playing the piano is a lot like riding a bike — you never really forget.

He keeps his talent a secret, though. Keeps the piano locked away in the old music room when Robin and the Party is over and doesn't let them down that hallway. Likes that he has something for himself, though he does have moments where he wishes he could share his talent with his found family.

Eddie’s the first person he tells.

They’re hanging out together in Steve’s living room. Eddie’s got his acoustic slung across his lap. Fingers moving up and down the frets. His brows are furrowed, and his lip is tugged between his teeth. He’s been stuck on the same melody for days now and Steve offered up his place, hoping a change in scenary would rid him of his music block.

It hasn’t.

“Jesus H. Christ” Eddie swears, gently moving the acoustic to the side. He throws the rest of his body down on the rug.

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Ed’s. It sounds great.”

“You’re just saying that cause it’s not loud and obnoxious.”

“It is different than your usual sound,” Steve hums, gently guiding himself from the couch down to the floor next to Eddie.

“Jeff wrote a love song for this girl he’s seeing. But he's always sucked at the music part, so I said I’d give it a shot.” Eddie says, raising his arms in the air in front of his face. He starts to fiddle with the large skull ring on his finger. “I think the melody would sound better on a piano but none of us can play so, my acoustic will have to do.”

Steve's not sure why he does what he does next. Maybe it's because Eddie is right, and the song would sound better with a piano, or maybe it's because he'd move the moon and starts to make Eddie Munson smile. Whatever the case, Steve stands. Offers Eddie a hand and hoists him with him.

He starts walking down the hallway towards the room no one even knows exists. Eddie hot on his heels.

"Don't tell me you've been hiding a secret sex dungeon," Eddie teases as Steve raises to his tiptoes to grab the key hidden on the top of the door frame.

"If I had a secret sex dungeon, don't you think I'd have shown it to you by now?" Steve asks, hip-checking Eddie out of the way so he can get to the door knob.

"Fair point," Eddie says.

Steve can tell he's about to say something else, when the door clicks open. The baby grand is still covered with a white bedsheet, but it's easy to make it out. Especially for a music expert like Eddie.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, slowly moving closer to the center of the room as if he's going to startle the piano. "Is that what I think it is?"

Steve nods and begins rolling up the bedsheet exposing the beautiful black, shiny baby grand piano. He tosses the sheet aside and takes a seat at the bench. Carefully lifts the keyboard cover and pats the bench next to him. Eddie joins instantly.

"You can play?" Eddie asks as Steve's fingers start moving across the keys. He starts with something simple, the melody to "Twinkle Twinkle," before moving on to one of the formal pieces his granddad taught him. Eddie sits motionless, eyes darting between Steve's profile and his fingers dancing across the keys. When Steve stops, Eddie lets out a gasping breath. Playfully bumps his shoulder with Steve's. "You son of a bitch! You have been holding out on me!"

"Maybe a little," Steve chuckles. "But not about having a sex dungeon."

"You sure about that?" Eddie says, moving in closer. He rests his head on Steve's shoulder and angles his face so his lips are right next to Steve's ear. "I hear sex on a piano is pretty amazing."

Steve blushes, feels the butterflies fluttering in his gut. He laughs, shrugging Eddie off his shoulder. Playful. Bashful. "Come on, we've got a song to write."

Eddie looks at Steve, even more bewildered than before. This time Steve meets his gaze, takes in Eddie's woofish smile that he's trying to hide behind a strand of hair and his blown pupils.

"You really are my wildest dreams come true," Eddie moans, stealing a kiss. It's a quick but passionate. A reminder that they're not done yet. "Alright, let's get this song done so we can really break this piano in after."

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #this came to me in the shower lmao #idk if its anything but here you go lol #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years

Text

Trust in me

AN: And here we are, over the hump, so to celebrate have some Stucky with a side of Vampirism and Lingerie......

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beta’d by @christywantspizza

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairing: SoftDarkVampire!Bucky x Virgin! Preserum Steve

CW: Lingerie, Vampires, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, Corruption Kink, Possesive Bucky, people who treat Steeb horribly

Word Count: 2.7k

Steve’s head was spinning but given everything that had happened in the last few days, few would have felt different.

Was it only two days ago when he’d been sitting at home, the home he’d grown up in with his recently departed mother, when he’d been disturbed by a banging on the door? The village mayor, and a few other officials, had been standing there, looking down at him gravely, the poor sickly orphan son of Mrs Rogers.

It had been long whispered among the youth of the village about the mysterious castle over the hill, rumours of a spectre, a demon. A vampire. That if you stayed out too late, or strayed too far, then he would take you to slake his infernal hunger. But it was always a story, a way to keep the young people of the village under control.

Until it wasn’t.

It turned out that it was true, to a degree, although the main truth was that the vampire existed. And every 50 years, the mayor and town elders would pick a youth to be sent to the castle.

An offering.

A sacrifice.

It was apparently, according to the mayor, a gut-wrenching choice, and one that was hard to make, but Steve didn’t believe him. Even he knew he was the obvious candidate. No one would miss him; he had no parents, no siblings, no lover. His small, skinny stature meant that he couldn’t carry out the jobs that the other men of the village did, reduced to carrying out ‘women’s work’. He had few friends and no social standing.

Steve had been holding onto the hope that once the immense grief of his mother’s death had passed, he would grow to find contentment in his life, even if he never achieved the great happiness spoken about in fairy stories or shown by his peers, as they partnered off and began their own families. But it stood to reason that was never going to happen. Why would it? Nothing in his life so far suggested a happy ending.

The mayor explained that there wasn’t really any choice, unless Steve wished to selfishly bring ruin to the rest of the village. He could come of his own free will, like those who had been chosen before him, or they would bind him and take him.

With a barking laugh of derision, Steve had stood and left his home, locking the door and passing the key to the mayor. Soon, another family would live where he and his mother had lived and he hoped that the wife would be glad for his mother’s pans and crockery that were being left behind.

The only thing he took was the coverlet that his mother had tirelessly embroidered. If he were to die, he would like to be surrounded by her love and care in his final moments.

He’d spent the night in the church, where the clerics sprinkled him with holy water and commended his soul to God and the ever-after, chanting prayer after prayer over his small form.

The following afternoon, a few hours before sunset, he was put up into a wagon, and the stoic driver, who refused to say a word to him, steered the oxen up the rocky track and over the brow of the hill to where the castle lay. As soon as he’d alighted, the driver had turned and started straight back, and Steve had approached the imposing doors as the sun removed its final sliver from the sky.

Steve had lifted his hand to the large iron knocker, hesitating momentarily, before gulping down his fear and banging the ring against the solid wooden door. It had swung open with an ominous creak, but there was no one on the other side. Steve had then taken a trembling step over the threshold, and then another, into a cavernous entrance hall, noting the stone slabs on the floor, the old wooden sideboards against the stone walls and the massive candelabras placed upon them. He’d jumped when the door swung shut with an ominous boom, cradling the folded coverlet in his arms.

“Hello?” His voice had echoed off the walls, but otherwise there was silence. Moving carefully over to one of the sideboards, Steve had picked up one of the candelabras and moved towards the large staircase in the centre of the entrance hallway. Ornately carved bannisters curved upwards, bracketing the red carpeted treads and he couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of it all. He had just been about to take his first step up when he’d heard a noise behind him, like the flapping of wings, or the swishing of a cape.

Turning sharply on his heel he’d been confronted by a pair of eyes, flashing red as blood and it all faded to black.

So yes, Steve was dizzy as he blinked opened his eyes, and sat up. He was lying on a plush bed, on top of the counterpane, but with his own coverlet over his legs.

“Careful now. You fainted, my little one. You have not been taking care of yourself.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he turned towards the deep voice and finally saw him.

The vampire.

To say that the vampire looked like a normal man would do him a great disservice. There was nothing normal about him, only the extraordinary.

Although he was sitting in the armchair next to the bed that Steve found himself lying upon, Steve could tell that he was a tall man. His skin was pale, his eyes a light blue, like the sky in winter on a clear day, but his hair was dark. It was also long for a man, skimming his shoulders.

His cheekbones were prominent, but not because he was gaunt, his nose was strong, lips plump and pink, and he had a cleft in his chin.

“You’re beautiful…”

Steve clamped his hands over his mouth as he realised he‘d spoken out loud.

The vampire smiled and Steve caught a glimpse of one sharp fan. Panic and embarrassment warred within him, both emotions rising when the man shifted, almost glided, out of his seat to sit on the edge of the bed, terrifyingly close.

“Are you going to kill me now?” Steve’s voice was a whisper.

“Of course not.” There was an almost soft, tender look on the vampire’s face and he reached out to smooth a stray lock of sandy blonde hair off Steve’s forehead. “I am James. What is your name?”

“St-Steve.”

The vampire James looked him up and down, trailing a hand down Steve’s cheek and to his skinny shoulder, rubbing his thumb into the dip in Steve’s clavicle.

“Look at me, Steve.” The trembling young man looked up, looked into those ice blue eyes, saw them flash red, and found he couldn’t look away.

“Good, good. Just relax. I won’t bite, unless you’re into that sort of thing.” His lips twitched at his own little joke. “Now, tell me Steve, what have you always wanted from your life.”

Steve didn’t know why, but James’ voice was soothing. He could feel the panic subsiding. He felt safe and able to let out his desires for the first time in his life.

“I… I… want to be loved. Not…not just the love a parent feels for a child. I had the best mother and she cared for me so much. But no one else wanted me as I am. I wanted to feel wanted, loved.” Steve’s lips twisted up into a wry smile. “I wanted to feel pretty.”

“They were all fools.” James looked angry, but Steve wasn’t afraid. He knew, somehow, it wasn’t directed at him. “Fools not to see the treasure beneath their noses. Casting you out for their own convenience, and for their own fears and superstitions.”

James’ trailed his hand back up, resting on Steve’s throat and stroking over his pulse point. “You said that you thought I was beautiful, Steve, but it is you who are. You who came here without fear, without a backwards glance, to save those who would never think of saving you. You are safe here, my angel. And you are desired.”

His eyes flashed red again.

“Now, sleep, sweet Stevie. Sleep.”

Steve closed his eyes, and this time when the blackness came it was with peace instead of fear.

It was his stomach rumbling that caused Steve to wake a second time. He was under the covers of the bed this time, but he wasn’t overly warm. He yawned and stretched, feeling more rested and relaxed than he ever remembered. He pushed back the covers and swung his legs out and that’s when he realised. Realised that his clothes were gone and in their place were different clothes.

If they could be called that.

There was no way these were clothes you could go outside in. Soft confections of lace and silk adorned Steve’s body, the light fabric sliding over his skin and making him feel…feel different.

He looked up as the door opened and James walked through. He smiled broadly when he saw Steve awake and on his feet, and in his hands he carried a tray.

“I have brought you some food, Steve. It isn’t the most exciting of fare,I have little use for normal foodstuffs, as I’m sure you can guess. But, I can’t have you getting sick.”

James placed the tray on the small table on the other side of the room, and then pulled out a chair.

“Please. Sit, Steve. I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

Feeling a bit awkward, Steve walked across to the table, feeling the plush rug under his toes, softer than nearly anything else he’d felt in his life, and sat down. James tucked him in, and then sat down in the opposite chair, watching him. Steve sipped at the water and tucked into the food, a simple platter of bread, cheese and sliced apple, but ironically, food he was used to. The silence stretched between them until Steve couldn’t bear it any longer.

“What are you going to do to me?”

James cocked his head.

“Nothing bad, I assure you. Do you know how long it has been since I’ve had good company? The last… visitor… from your village, it was a while ago. And she wasn’t as pleasing to the eye and mind as you are.”

Steve tried not to think about what had happened to that woman. She obviously wasn’t still here…

“So… if nothing bad, then what? You’ll forgive me for being nervous, given who, what you are, and why I am here.”

A deep chuckle, thick as syrup, spilled from James’ lips.

“I like how you don’t hold back, Steve.” James nodded down at the empty plate. “Are you finished? Do you need more?”

“No, no. It’s fine. More than fine.”

“Good.”

In the blink of an eye, Steve found himself out of his chair and pushed up against the wall, pinned there by James’ larger body.

“You are here, my angel, because I wish you to be. If I had merely wished to slake my physical hunger I can assure you that you would have expired in my hallway. But I find myself intrigued. You may be small in stature, but you are more than just your body. You came, clutching a blanket, one made with love, by your mother, I guess. You didn’t shrink or simper, nor did you cloak yourself with false bravado.”

James dipped his head to Steve’s neck and inhaled, rubbing his nose and then his cheek over the pulse in Steve’s throat.

“I want to keep you. I want to give you things. Nice things.”

His hands, cool and firm, stroked down the satin covering Steve’s body.

“Things like this. Things that help you see how beautiful you are. And do you know what else I would give you, Steve?” James lifted his head and looked straight into Steve’s eyes. Steve shook his head, unsure of how to answer, and in any case all words had left his brain as he struggled with the new feelings he had rushing through his veins. And rushing south.

“I would give you pleasure, my Stevie. I would make you feel more alive than you ever have. And yes, I would take what I needed too, but I can do that without killing you. Without irreparably harming you. So that we could both experience bliss over and over.”

James shifted his body and Steve could feel the vampire’s erection, rubbing against his own, where it was encased in more lace. Then James moved his mouth closer to Steve’s ear, and in a low voice asked, “Would you like that, Steve?”

Steve moaned. He’d never felt desire like this. No one had ever spoken to him like this, touched him.

“Please…” He knew he was damned from that moment, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Better to be damned and loved, even if only for a short time.

With another rush of inhuman speed James had Steve back on the bed, the outer layers of satin discarded so that Steve was only clad in a short lace top and matching underwear. He should have felt cold, but the heat of his own blood coursing through him kept him warm. James had also discarded his waistcoat, cravat and shirt, and his pale skin shone in the firelight of the room. He loomed over Steve, hair loose, fangs peeking out, and looking like the personification of lust.

“Would you grant me the gift of your body, my angel?”

“Yes!” Steve’s voice may have been a whisper, but it no longer trembled.

With a sigh, James kissed him, his lips soft, but cool. Steve could help but wind his arms around James’s neck. This was his first kiss, and while it was very different to what he’d imagined, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, regret it. He couldn’t stop his body responding, and rolled his slim hips up against James’, small breathy moans passing from his lips to his lover’s. James’ hands were all over him, touching him in new and delightful ways. He felt bereft when James broke their kiss, but was then plunged back into this new world of pleasure as the vampire travelled down his virgin body, licking over the pulsing vein in his neck, sucking gently on it, lightly scraping with his sharp teeth.

The coverlet of the bed was twisted in Steve’s fist, having not known what to do with his arms when James slipped out of his embrace. James nuzzled into the dip by Steve’s hip, a hair’s breadth away from his straining cock.

“You smell so sweet, Stevie. I bet you’ll taste just as delightful.” He pressed his open mouth over the lace making his way across to where the fabric was tented the most and damp with pre-cum. He looked up and caught Steve’s gaze, before he sucked on the fabric. Steve cried out, arching off the bed, almost entirely overwhelmed by sensation.

“Mmmm, just as I thought.” James chuckled as he pulled down the sodden underwear and then took Steve’s cock in his hand. He started to stroke it, while kissing Steve’s milky inner thighs, and licking at his balls.

Steve had never felt anything like it. He’d touched himself before, but this, this was something new. The touch, the caress, of someone else, someone so magnetic and dangerous.

“James… I…!”

“Shhh, my angel. Don’t think, just feel. Trust me.”

James ran his tongue up Steve’s length, flicking it over the tip and then taking it into his mouth.

“Oh. Oh!” Steve screwed his eyes shut, trying to reduce the overstimulation. “James. James! I…”

James removed Steve’s cock from his mouth, going back to stroking it and resuming his kissing and nuzzling of Steve’s thigh. He twisted his hand slightly on the up stroke, increasing the pressure, then, as Steve’s body went rigid, James sank his teeth into the soft skin.

Steve felt as though stars were exploding behind his eyes, the world spinning out of control. Pleasure sizzled through his blood and it felt as though it was never ending. He glanced down at where James was latched onto one of his thighs and saw blood red eyes looking back at him.

Yes he was damned, but he’d never regret it.

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#kinktober22 #kinktober 2022 #late writes #stucky #stucky fic #preserum steve rogers #vampire!bucky #steve x bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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wikifoxnews · 1 year

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Who was Lindsay Clancy ( Mom who killed her two other kids ) Wiki, Bio, Age, Crime, Arrest, Incident details, Investigations and More Facts

Lindsay Clancy Biography Lindsay Clancy Wiki

The 8-month-old son of Massachusetts mother Lindsay Clancy was pronounced dead on Friday, just two days after the mother-of-three was accused of killing her two older children and attempting to kill her younger by Plymouth County prosecutors. Clancy, 32, was hospitalized on Wednesday evening while in police custody after her husband Patrick returned to their Duxbury home to find their three children "unconscious with obvious signs of trauma".

Victims Identifies As:

Cora (5) and Dawson (3) were pronounced dead in hospital. Although the coroner has not yet determined the cause of death, the children appear to have been strangled. Calen, who turned 8 months old on Thursday, was rushed to Boston Children's Hospital in critical condition, where he later died. Clancy also allegedly attempted suicide by jumping out of a window before paramedics arrived at the Summer Street house. She is now recovering in a Boston hospital. "In the 25 minutes it took for him to get food, the unthinkable happened," radio host John DePetro said Friday of Patrick's tragic discovery, citing a friend of the couple. DePetro also noted that Clancy, who was on leave from her job as a labor and childbirth nurse at Massachusetts General Hospital, was seeking intensive care for postpartum depression and anxiety. "I'm curious to hear a statement from the people who care about her and what she's been missing. It sounds like she's in dire straits," she said. Clancy is said to have been somewhat open about her mental health issues after sharing on Facebook in July that she finally felt "called" again six weeks after giving birth to her third child. . Sources told CBS Boston that authorities are investigating the possibility that Clancy suffered from postpartum psychosis. Breaking: Plymouth County DA’s office now confirming that Lindsay Clancy’s third child 8 month old Callan Clancy has died..She remains hospitalized and was awaiting arraignment on two counts of murder in connection with the deaths of her 2 other children #7News pic.twitter.com/QO5qBq4oDf — Steve Cooper (@scooperon7) January 27, 2023 During a family vigil Thursday night at Holy Family Church in Duxbury, the Rev Robert J. Deehan said the congregation was "devastated and heartbroken" by the tragedy. “All of us here in Duxbury are beyond devastated and heartbroken at the news of what has happened to this young family,” he said. He insisted on praying for Clancy, noting that she was clearly struggling with an "overwhelming mental illness." Renae McLaughlin, a postpartum nurse, told the Patriot Ledger after the service that postnatal mental health can be an uphill battle for all mothers. “You are overwhelmed,” she said. Read the full article

#crime #HOSPITALS #LINDSAYCLANCY #MASSACHUSETTS #MENTALILLNESS #MURDERS

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lilad03-blog · 2 months

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Did John Wayne Play Fordham University’s Football Coach?

Photos from IMDb.com

Trouble Along The Way (1953) was released through Warner Brothers on April 4th of 1953. This black & white comedy starred Film Legend John Wayne and was directed by the great Michael Curtiz, who is himself best remembered for Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood & White Christmas.

Was this film about Fordham Football?

A Catholic College in The Bronx

Submitted for your approval is the fictitious St Anthony’s Catholic College. It is located in, of all places, The Bronx; Fordham University is located in the Fordham Road community. Which is the busiest commercial section of Bronx County. Also, it is the one Roman Catholic institution in the Borough that played big time football during this era. (Sorry Manhattan College- just in case they are wondering.)

The Society of Jesus (S.J.)

Specifically, it is a Roman Catholic Institute of Higher Learning that is not run by the Archdiocese. But in turn it is managed by “The Order”; Perhaps they mean The Jesuits? No one attempts to explain this any further … So why not.

A Thinly Veiled Version of Cardinal Spellman?

The story includes a fictitious Cardinal O'Shea, who also happens to be a St Anthony’s alumni. In the film, he uses his influence to schedule games with institutions such as the University of Notre Dame. Francis Cardinal Spellman, then the Archbishop of New York, held a B.A., from Fordham University, from 1911. After being elevated to this position back in 1939, he also became the face of the American Catholic Church throughout this period until his death in 1967.

"Winning isn't everything -- it's the only thing."

These words are attributed to Coach Steve Williams, the fictional athletics instructor played by Wayne. In the actual context of the movie, they actually appear in print, on a sign, in his office. However, this sounds a lot like something Vince Lombardi (FCRH Class of 1937) might have said, now doesn’t it?

Dates Sync-Up With Closing Out of the Football Program

Perhaps most importantly, this movie, which was released in 1953, involves a scandal that appears to shut down the football program. It should be noted that Fordham University dropped Big Time Football after the 1954 season.

The Plot Line

Recently divorced, Steve Williams has trouble finding a job due to his inability to get along with his prior superiors. If he doesn't find work soon, he'll risk losing custody of his 11 year old daughter Carole (Sherry Jackson). He needs a job to keep the wolf-at-bay as well as a social worker assigned to see if his daughter should not be taken away from him.

1942 Oscar winner Charles Coburn (right) Photo IMDb.com

Meanwhile, Father Burke, the school’s rector, played by veteran character actor Charles Coburn, hires Williams/Wayne to improve the school’s failing financial situation. St. Anthony's is heavily in debt. They may have to close their doors. Father Burke reasons that the school could get back on its feet if it had a successful football team. He hoped this would secure the financial support of the school’s alumni too.

Coach Wiliams/Wayne’s character violates the preseason training regulations believing the added “practice” time will give him the advantage over Holy Cross, Notre Dame and "Santa Carla" (perhaps a fictitious version of Santa Clara). This was because conference rules prevent these schools from practicing during summer sessions. The New York Archbishop, who is also an alumni, uses his influence to schedule games with the institutions mentioned above.

Note: The only game that is actually played is against the fictional Santa Carla, where St Anthony’s tactics are discovered. This includes paying players and bringing in athletes much older than the accepted age. Perhaps the film’s producers wanted to avoid complaints from the real California University by creating a thinly veiled phony?

Film critic Hal Erickson of All Movie wrote: “Against his better judgment, Father Burke hires the troublesome Steve Williams, who'll stop at nothing to assemble a winning team. Somehow, Williams has to turn into a regular human being and that's where social worker Alice Singleton (Donna Reed) comes in. Described as ‘More sentimental than most Wayne vehicles, Trouble Along the Way is well worth the ride.’”

On The Other Hand: Was this not Fordham Football?

Why Did Fordham Actually Drop Football in 1954?

The team’s record that final year was 1 win; 7 loses; 1 tie. Average attendance, when home games were played primarily at the Polo Grounds, in Upper Manhattan, were 11,950. This was down from the prior year’s average of 16,000 plus. (Football did not return to campus until students brought the sport back as a “club” team in 1964.)

It seems it was not a scandal, but the inability to fund big-time football in the era of television and coast-to-coast jet travel that brought the sport down. According to Fordham Librarian J.P. McCabe, in his monograph 125 Year of Fordham Football: On December 15 (1954) the President of Fordham, Rev. Laurence McGinely, S.J., announced that Fordham could no longer afford to support a football program.

Would Notre Dame ever play the Fordham Rams?

Would legendary Notre Dame ever play the Rams in football? An examination of Fordham football seasons from 1928 to 1954, an era which saw them playing back-to-back major bowl games, shows many battles against other leading catholic colleges and universities. Boston College, Holy Cross, Saint Mary’s and Villanova pop-up as regular opponents. In reality, Notre Dame never played against Fordham.

In fact, whenever some of the catholic schools talk about rebuilding their Division 1-A program, conversations often turn to possibly booking a game with Notre Dame. Now, the only other Power-5 catholic program-Boston College-has met them 26 times but that rivalry didn’t start until 1975. This was during these latter years when both programs found themselves together in two different major sports conferences-The ACC and before that the now splintered Big East Conference.

“Much like an old-time Irish Ward boss, Notre Dame knows they already have the Catholic Vote. They want to be a national darling; So don’t count on those big pay days.”

A Bronx Setting? The ‘Shoot’ Never Left Southern California.

Many of the exterior football scenes were filmed at Pomona College in Claremont, California. In fact, under IMDB.com Goofs section, there appears to be a State of California Flag on a poll in the background in one scene.

Fordham Has Produced Many Church Leaders

According to the List of Fordham University alumni, there have been almost twenty Archbishops, Auxiliary Bishops, Bishops and Cardinals. This includes our own Class of 1980 Gordon Bennett, SJ, Auxiliary Bishop Emeritus of the Mandeville Diocese: https://www.pinterest.fr/bergin0639/famous-fordham-graduates-from-class-of-1980/

It is not really a stretch to imagine a loyal alum in a position of church authority willing to use his influence to acquire top name opposition-now is it? Could the Cardinal Spellman reference simply be a coincidence?

Vince Lombardi Quote Dispute

When this movie comes up, questions arise about the use of a quote that could be attributed to Vince Lombardi (Class of ‘37) and a member of the Seven Blocks of Granite."Winning isn't everything -- it's the only thing." These words were from Coach Williams, the fictional football instructor played by Wayne. This sounds like Coach Lombardi … or does it?

The closest offering I can find under ESPN Classic Vince Lombardi quotes seems to be: “Winning is not a sometime thing; it's an all-time thing." Nice, but not exactly the same intense language. Besides, with a release date of April 4th, 1953, and actual filming taking place in the fourth quarter of 1952, this would suggest an A-List Hollywood Picture would be trolling for quotations from the then offensive line coach at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

Lombardi would not start on his way to immortality, becoming the head coach for the Green Bay Packers, of the NFL, until their 1959 season.

Hearing From The Fordham Faculty

“As far as I can tell, film-history-wise, there is no direct connection to a football coach or a football scandal at Fordham.” said Karen Williams, Ph.D in Communication & Media Studies, in an email response. “Nowhere in the film's promotional material is it suggested that the story is based on real events. The writer of the film's original synopsis (based on a listing of his papers at Boston University) was Robert Hardy Andrews, and based on that it suggests that it is an original story, not based on a newspaper article or other pre-existing source.”

The Rose Hill campus Senior Lecturer added: “Andrews's background also suggests that he does not have any meaningful connections to Fordham.”

What Do You Think?

The Fordham similarities are pretty clear whether or not they were intentional, subconscious or coincidental. My first exposure to this movie was as a child, long before I entertained any notions of attending Fordham; I walked into the livingroom and my dad, who was raised in The Bronx, had just started watching it. He said simply, “This is about Fordham.” So I’m in the positive camp I guess.

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ADDENDUM

Romance or Assault? Is it still a John Wayne Movie?

Screenshot. Donna Reed who won an Academy Award in 1954 for her work in From Here To Eternity.

Click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NVeSPdMm2s

Fordham University has a Graduate School of Social Work.

I forwarded this video clip, contacted several department faculty and asked the following 3 questions:

Were Coach Williams' actions wildly inappropriate? (I know it's the 1950s and he is John Wayne ... but ...?)

What about Ms. Reed's reply?

What would you advise a social worker to do next?

“I'm a fan of re-examining history because we always seem to learn more about ourselves and the world when we do.” Dr. Shirley Gatenio Gabel, the Quaranta Chair for Justice for Children at Fordham University’s Graduate School of Social Service writes: “I'm not sure how you see a social worker being called in here, especially in the 1950s. It appears the character that Donna Reed is playing was being sexually harassed; however, Title VII-the law that prohibits sexual harassment at work-was part of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.”

She added: “I don't know what government agency the Donna Reed character may have called in the 1950s and how a social worker may have gotten involved.”

Note: Having re-watched this movie recently-for the 3rd time-I thought the producers didn’t know what to do with any potential romantic development either. Despite publicity stills suggesting they become one-big-happy-family (see below) these questions go largely unanswered by the film’s ending.

IMDb.com: People: John Wayne, Donna Reed, Sherry Jackson

External Links: https://www.pinterest.fr/bergin0639/is-trouble-along-the-way-actually-fordham/

Did John Wayne Play Fordham's Football Coach?

#johnwayne #fordhamuniversity #vincelombardi #notredame #donnareed #ostoncollege #villanova #holycross #santaclara #pologrounds #warnerbrothers #football #sports

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fkyumerica · 5 months

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https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1020206121822828705/ babyy porn

Aaron

I'm not clicking on anything that says baby pron

CRAWL! CRAWL! whyyy caligula whyyy

their kid got pregnant

this was madonna's granddaughter daniella jasso pregnant at 5 years old, they had a fight that morning for holy communion to happen

and she lesbo to steal your car, one day was it, they painted it

the monster truck freddy kreuger was it

or which ever grave digger or something they would drive it to church

and live in it

to be virgin mary

she wouldent say it either, virgin mary

madonna's grandpa dennis rodman, and all of them together to talk about it

madonna's daughter "mary" had a daughter at 8, and her daughter had one at 5, she wore that dress then

katie/lynn she wore stilts and katie name with older men mated with them

then madonna dressed as the wedding dress that said boy toy on it

she got this drunk, it was legal at 16 in europe to drink

and wine was "im fine with it im fine with it"

she made a veil in gibralter trade center for her granddaughter and i saw it

she looked like a princess diana lucille ball

she said she would put a hat on it, her sister was the godfather, it meant hide me, we can go around again, then get out of my car after, lay in it, stay, house is mine, hers, she went with osama then it was him dennis rodman/ryan/kevin and her madonna in drag, young girls do stupid shit, keep them drunk and on drugs he said it to only her too haha church they all laughed just shoot her aand did bye family

they would joke i guess

her granddaughter said i dont like it and she said i would shoot you at her granddaughter

and talking was don't use names

her daughter looked like lynn

northern europe was it, where women lived

southern was trash going east and west of europe

and tanned

wtf grandmas

dennis rodman was the singer of rage against the machine

their army has mustache's and look armenian

a gaint army of men

black hair, tanned

arab, what did you rub against her and want one

it was constant screaming, lived in a area with themselves

his son osama, and dennis rodman now, dennis rodman is saddam hussein

james and jim? both their dads, 4th marriage, first

two s's and two d's thats a basketball dunk

vinnie, and jimmy corbin are related to them

related meant directly descent

they all had boys

steve found out his wife was pregnant again in school parking lot she said it

i was friends with her to he tripped me when he heard it

and at a concert again wtf attack her

they wouldent attack their pregnant wives but did to other people

white trash is it too

anyone who had kids young was totally their mustache army

or man whores

what is it go in the building

said she lived there

they would rob people fight them and hide

they are all it

they would only talk to themselves too, that group of had kids

young

what job you got now fly

Alien Godzilla jumps and leaps over the bridge #shorts

they are all the same too for talking to each other

but are you four?

im only four!

and steal the show yea we got it

the gift of lisa frank is just beginning

i thought wayne screaming was loud

there are mexicans next door that are SCReAMING outside for like half a year

with like 3 parked cars in the driveway

they are building a bathroom downstairs

they would hook it up to a fire hydrant

they just started a generator it sounds like a lawn mower

did they put it inside the house

by the door

back

now its in the kitchen with them

they put acid on it and do it all day

now one is raking in the back yard

Corgiaholics

$750 dollars for a dog perfume

Miss Dior Blooming Bouquet Collector Edition Bobby Bottle | Dior US

miss precious

bobby get back in the garage

but what if shes half gone

AH LA LA EH YENDE

the neighbor said it LOUD

they only drink inside

then come out agani

they have to drink all the time

and drugs they have sex

the women are inside

or two gay men today haha wtf?

he said it

they threatened me at a store to steal things for them

and they said out loud YEA I SAID IT

and their wife in a car coming out of it looking at me said yea im gonna hit ya

and that guy said yea im gonna hit ya now if you look

she did

bye bitch

two cars we stalked her

liscense plate

where are they from

called a mexican bitch

evicted all of them

that guy said he did

with madonnas credit card

dont want my wife in a church with ya im gay

married elissa their inbred too

daniella married him then

her mom dressed up prettier i wanted her i wanted out

shot her dog too

who cares about her

inbred meant i can go insane all the time

and fleet her i can get in that airplane i followed her

lynn is their mom had to have 4 in three years

ricky, timmy, devin, zach

dont you like my hair

to them it meant am i sexy

you wanna fuck me

first we fuck up your relation ship

then her face

then yours

then him next to you

now he fucks up you

and i fuck him from behind after

now you i fuck you

and hey they call out

shes doing it now

i felt her haha

do we save her

no we fuck up the whole area

and everyone in it

judges would not randomly interview

jim is lynn's dad

no i dont like her wedding dress

she had to be blonde for two days to hide from him

her husband

sean penn

and all black kids wtf

i abandoned them

for them to come back and have sex with me

the loudest families are them

and the whole time they talk about how people are turned on by them for letting out the drugs and alcohol and didn’t fuck me yet on drugs and alcohol would stay in a group over there then I got a orgy

and probably you got a problem man, said it to everyone for 32 years to have them leave work and their house to get fucked up, and didn’t leave, entered it and fucked them up

and yea I left a younger one at you so you’d like it, lynn said it

and I like it -lynn

they sent her in to fuck you anyways, anne marie is Lydia/yessica/lisa marie presley/keep a secret that pregnant girl wasn’t me “I wasn’t her” yes! She said it

that was already her inbred and she was Lucille ball

all their kids were ugly nigger Mexicans, I live south of you fuck me, come out in a car he is gay

every pregnant girl in church is it, climbing on the floor to bless each persons feet to suck on them later

and they boy stands outside

who got her pregnant, kevin, im the riff raff girl

lets fuck Michael Jackson first” Madonna said it, it was her dad she inbred with, all them in that photo with dennis rodman at once his daugters

walking slow, five at once, lets go with you, Michael would say it, and hey Japanese lets implode, all pregnant get in there eat till you explode, then tell her to come over

“you know I went with her and she got us flying after” -ricky

Group of labor/litter he called it, run like dogs she said, Madonna

The osamas and sadams sing gay old Spanish it was them talking, and ricky talks back like Cheech marin

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talesfromtheorient · 11 months

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I woke up a little late. Jet lag? Nah, I needed a rest. Close to my accommodation I found a nice restaurant and ordered fried eggs, fresh orange juice and a coffee. The fresh orange juice came, and it was fresh, the coffee came, but the waiter brought me a cheese board with a friend egg on it and said “my brother, this is better, I know you will like”. Well, I would have liked what I ordered but I was too hungry to argue and accepted the meal. It wasn’t fresh and was clearly a left over that they wanted to get rid of before lunch started. If I robbed the Dairy Lea factory I still wouldn’t have had as much cheese as this. I sampled my way around the board and then asked for the bill. The call the prayer started, and I began to pray that the price of the board wasn’t too much. It turns out that as expected, the board was considerable more expensive than the friend eggs and I got ripped off, well I won’t be going back there!

I made my way to The Blue Mosque. After I short wait, I entered it’s mighty doors. It was magnificent. A symbolic building filled covered with geometric patterns which all elevate to a central spot which symbolises Allah. I was impressed by the mosque but disgusted by the behaviour of the other tourists. They were loud, ignorant and disrespectful. The mosque is a place worship, not a tourist attraction. With their selfie sticks and Kardashian poses, the tourists were more worshippers of Steve Jobs than they were any true god. I realised that I would need to visit the mosque early, before the coach tours arrive if I was going to explore its true beauty. Anyway, more of what you were expecting…The Blue Mosque was built by Ahmed 1 between 1609-1617. It contains 260 windows and is covered in blue and green (turquoise) tiles. This is why it is called The Blue Mosque. 😁

I made my way to the Grand Bazaar. It was grand, humid, congested sand exciting. It reminded me of the Old City in Jerusalem. That’s the problem with visiting the Holy Land, many things are an imitation of its culture. The Bazaar sold carpets, Turkish Delights, belts, trousers and shirts, amongst many other items. I double tracked at a shirt stall and spend 30 minutes haggling over a few items. The negotiations were calm but fierce, and I am happy that I left with a fair price, not a bargain, but a fair price. I enjoyed visiting the Bazaar, but it was exhausting due to the sheer volume of people. In all honesty, visiting Westfield in Stratford on a weekend is a lot more stressful and dangerous than visiting the Grand Bazaar.

After a quick kebab, I made my way to the Hagia Sofia. Now this really was something. In my opinion it was more impressive than the Blue Mosque. The mosque was once a church and this was evident from the mural of Christ and various Saints. My eye’s ascended to the central dome which symbolises Allah. Unfortunately, yet again the tourists were very disrespectful. This time I was really annoyed. This is a holy site, a place of worship, whether you are religious or not, have some respect. I calmly left the mosque, fully aware that I would have to get up super early one morning if I want to witness it’s charm in tranquility.

After a quick shower I head out again for some food. I found a restaurant a bit out the way and was hoping for a quiet meal. Nope, the local musicians turned up and we had a full on rave before I had even got my starter. They were good to be fair…The food and service in Istanbul seems to be varied. I guess in time you learn the best places to visit.

Istanbul isn’t cheap, it’s not super expensive, but it’s not cheap. I suppose if you by 4 shirts on your first day, it will damage your budget. That’s why as I write this I’m sat outside the Blue Mosque, next to the fountain with a couple of cans of Efes beer, people watching. After 10 years of solo travel, yes 10 years!! I am fully aware, that the best times are often the cheapest.

#istanbul #grand bazaar #bluemosque #hagia sofia #travel 2023

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seekfirst-community · 1 year

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Meditation: What do you most hunger for - wealth, peace, health, love, the good life? Jesus addressed this issue with those who sought him after the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves. Were they simply hungry for things which satisfy the body or for that which satisfies the heart and soul? Jesus echoes the question posed by the prophet Isaiah: "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy" (Isaiah 55:2)? There are two kinds of hunger - physical and spiritual. Only God can satisfy the hunger in our heart and soul - the hunger for truth, for life, and for love.

Jesus also spoke about the works of God and what we must do to be doing the works of God, namely to believe in God' Son whom he has sent into the world. Jesus offers a new relationship with God which issues in a new kind of life: A life of love and service, and the forgiveness of others which corresponds to God's mercy and kindness; a life of holiness and purity which corresponds to God's holiness; and a life of submission and trust which corresponds to the wisdom of God. This is the work which Jesus directs us to and enables us to perform in the power of the Holy Spirit. Do you hunger for the bread which comes down from heaven and thirst for the words of everlasting life?

"Lord Jesus, you alone can satisfy the deepest longing and hunger in our hearts. May I always hunger for the imperishable bread, that I may be satisfied in you alone as the True Bread of Heaven. Nourish and strengthen me that I may serve you with great joy, generosity, and zeal all the days of my life"

getting worked up?

“ ‘What must we do to perform the works of God?’ Jesus replied: ‘This is the work of God: have faith in the One Whom He sent.’ ” —John 6:28-29

As we enter into the third week of the Easter season, some of you have walked with the risen Christ, listened to Him interpret the Scriptures, and recognized Him in the breaking of the bread (see Lk 24:15, 27, 30-31). Like millions of Christians throughout the centuries, you have cried out: “It is the Lord!” (Jn 21:7)

After meeting your beloved older Brother raised from the dead, you’ll never be the same. “The old order has passed away; now all is new!” (2 Cor 5:17; cf Rv 21:5) Everything is different — life, people, time, money, possessions, church, and work. You no longer work “for perishable food but for food that remains unto life eternal” (Jn 6:27). Like Sts. Andrew, Peter, James, John, and Matthew, some of you are called to leave your jobs. They’re not compatible with the risen life. However, most of you are called to do your jobs in a different, risen way. Like St. Stephen, you will be “filled with grace and power” (Acts 6:8). You will receive such wisdom (see Acts 6:10) that your word will build God’s kingdom, bring down the strongholds of the evil one (2 Cor 10:4), and even make you worthy of being persecuted (Acts 5:41).

Work as if a dead God-Man has risen from the grave and now lives in You. Jesus has risen! He lives in you! Work for Him.

Prayer: Father, may I work harder and more joyfully for love of You.

Promise: “The way of truth I have chosen.” —Ps 119:30

Praise: St. Fidelis left his law career to become a priest, joining his brother George as a member of the Capuchin Order.

Reference: (For a related teaching on Job Performance for Jesus, view, download or order our leaflet or listen to, download or order our CD 43-3 or DVD 43 on our website.)

Rescript: "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for the publication One Bread, One Body covering the time period from April 1, 2023 through May 31, 2023. Reverend Steve J. Angi, Chancellor, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio September 21,, 2022"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

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jtryton · 3 years

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Join the church of the one true god and man made perfect through sin and redemption and death: Steve Jobs, the one true messiah

#the holy church of steve jobs #stevejobs #Steve jobs #newchurch #new religion #newfaith #new faith

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neonponders · 3 years

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Oh hell. Here we go...

Priest Billy and Demon Steve ~ read on ao3!

• • • • • • •

Billy had his wild teens and early twenties filled with debauchery, sex, abuse, etc. He never expected to return to his parents’ Catholicism for solace. He couldn’t really say for certain that his mother really was Catholic but she loved the architecture, the stain glass art, and she loved to sing. Church choirs always needed singers.

He just...picked up The New Testament one day. Read it in a week. He knew most of it from lessons as a kid, but the local priest notices Billy hanging around the church when it’s quiet, and takes the man out on his luck under his wing.

Ha.

Billy never wanted to be a priest. He and God didn’t get along. The gold-plated saint pendant on his neck had been his mothers, and he still considered it hers, not his own.

He didn’t want to join the military, either, but church and military are similar in that they keep their staff employed. Billy found himself employed with room and board with the promise of job security too.

And he was good with “troubled teens.” His priest mentor laughed when Billy called them what they were: kids with fucked up parents and shitty circumstances who didn’t know better, and who weren’t going to know better under an institution that scandalized and shamed the dirty process of figuring one’s life out.

“We need more like you,” the priest said. “Kind, but honest.”

Kind was the last word anyone used to describe Billy.

But he was good at this. Memorized the holy words like a sponge and it was a priest’s own choice to dress the part on or off the job. So Billy kept the uniform on for work and took it off when the church closed.

Which seemed ironic. God kept business hours.

So it was easy. For Billy, it had nothing to do with God and everything to do with keeping teenagers’ heads from exploding. He actually had good taste in music and let the gothic architecture ring out with so-called blasphemous rock and roll. It actually helped the kids study. He kept a bowl of free condoms cached away for hormonal teenagers too impatient or naive to look after themselves.

Every priest has a thing, though. An activity. Billy’s mentor liked putting together doll houses. Weird, but not nearly as bad as what the Vatican stood by and allowed.

Billy chose plants. He started by growing apple trees in the church yard. The elderly patrons of the church loved it. Symbolic of God’s wisdom or whatever. Billy didn’t have the energy to remind them that their precious origin story was founded on misogyny -

“Heirlooms. Nice choice.”

Billy looked up from where he was weeding the front landscaping around his young trees. The man standing a couple steps behind him looked about the same age as himself. “You know apples?”

The prominent brow bones made his eyes look tilted...or austere. He laughed and raked his brown tresses out of the way. “Yeah. I do. Isn’t it a thing that all apple varieties can be traced back to one tree in the Middle East, or something? Don’t tell the old white Betties that.”

Billy guffawed before he meant to. He stood up and conversed, “I got these from an heirloom apple collector who sets up shop in the farmers’ market over on Lafayette Avenue.”

The man’s smile lingered on his face as he held out a hand. “I’m Steve.”

Billy removed his gardening glove to shake it. “Billy.”

“Isn’t it, Father William?”

“I’m off the clock.”

Steve piped a laugh. “Sounds like you can do dinner, then.”

Billy...shouldn’t have said yes. Why did he say yes? Then again, priests weren’t not allowed to have friends.

But he didn’t say no when Steve began to frequent his off hours at the church. When Steve helped him harvest his apples and invited him to use his kitchen to make a pie.

“Not for the congregation. For you,” he’d said. “You grew these. You should enjoy them first. Have your apples and eat ‘em too.”

“My mom once said that baking something and not sharing it is bad luck,” Billy had countered with a warning jab from a fork in the air. “You have any ice cream?”

Steve smiled and withdrew a new pint of vanilla from the freezer. “Sure do.”

And Billy didn’t complain as Steve became an expected reoccurrence in his life. How he looked kind but murmured naughty jokes in Billy’s ear. How he taught the boys that Billy looked after how to dance so they wouldn’t be nervous at their school dances.

“A babe worth your time will respect that you’re on the dance floor. You’d be surprised how much you don’t need actual skill to dance. Girls just want a dance partner. Don’t let your coaches or dads lie to you: most wall flowers are guys. She’ll leave you behind if you don’t move your ass to the music. Don’t tell her no if you want it. Give yourself what you want.”

Billy frowned a little even as he smiled at the teens’ progress and blooming self-confidence. “Pretty sure it goes against everything here to tell them that.”

Steve caught his breath and took his time guzzling from a bottle of water from where they stood watching the kids dancing and waiting for their rides to pick them up. Then he merely sassed, “Okay, Father William.”

“You don’t call me that.”

Steve pinned him in place with a mischievous smile. “Why not?”

And...Billy didn’t have an answer to that. He could only let the music cover his silence and let Steve head out with the last of the kids leaving.

Sometimes Billy liked to leave the rows and rows of candles burning at the front of the church. Observe the way their red glass containers glowed like vampire blood and made the place spooky instead of sanctified. It was his job to move the little bell-shaped snuffer over them, but more recently he had taken to stopping halfway through. He sat on the nearest pew, letting his eyes shut heavily as fatigue washed over him. As if he’d been holding himself up for far longer than he pretended...

A warm palm with cool fingertips brushed over his combed hairline. Like he’d known it would be there, he unconsciously let his head fall into its softness. The intimacy of a palm on his temple, a touch that had done him more harm than comfort in his lifetime -

He caught the wrist of that hand. Drew it away from himself as he looked up at Steve gazing down at him. Steve’s large eyes and larger hands that Billy caught himself staring at far too often. Caught himself the same moment Steve did, warranting lingering gazes and thoughts shielded with petty taunts.

Why are you here? Billy wanted to ask, but it sounded like a foolish question even before it left his mouth. Why are you here? Why are you ever here?

You know why, Steve didn’t answer but did. He slowly sat on the pew next to him, his other hand come around to cradle the hinge of Billy’s jaw...

The guttural sound that escaped him when Steve’s lips touched him induced Steve to press his lips firmer over Billy’s. Billy had not let a man touch him in a long time. Years, now. He’d forgotten how soft a man’s lips could be. What that tender suppleness did to Billy’s insides and more, lower...

He felt his dick rise to meet the heat of Steve’s tongue sliding past his lips. In Billy’s experience, every man tasted different. But similar. Each one carried their own, unique taste...and Billy put Steve’s hand back on his face. Let him plunder his mouth, savor and claim Billy’s flavor while the sounds of their lips and tongues made the ache between his legs throb.

The pew creaked slightly as Steve got up, not breaking their kiss as he circled to Billy’s front. He knelt between Billy’s legs, only leaving his lips when he gripped Billy’s knees and gave them a yank. Billy caught himself on the edge of the pew bench, uncomfortably slouched but at the mercy of those hands undoing his black slacks.

He had only a second of bewildered giddiness at the sight of his red, glistening erection open in a church before wet, molten heat engulfed him. Billy’s jaw went slack as he held onto the edge of the pew, his knees hooked on Steve’s shoulders. With every pass of his tongue and lips, Billy was sure Steve tasted a new spurt of pre-cum.

It had been so long...too long. Billy hadn’t really meant to take celibacy seriously, but after years of using sex as an escape, when he finally had safety and time to occupy himself with other interests, he’d left sex behind.

Now he rutted up into Steve’s mouth, answering Steve’s lustful, encouraging groans with his sighs and moans. Squeezing his legs around Steve and daring to let his fingers plunge into the dark, silken tresses, holding them off of Steve’s face as he came hard and fast. Billy’s orgasm punched through him, aftershocks making his hips tremble like a smaller orgasms rolling right after the first.

The flat of Steve’s tongue dragged up Billy’s cock for slick lips to mouth at the head. A high-pitched breath shivered out of Billy and Steve finally released him, coming up to taste his lips, to make Billy taste himself...

Red.

Steve’s eyes were red. The whiskey brown had become infused with a similar crimson glint as the candle holders...

But they were behind Steve. His irises should have been cast in shadow, not infused with color like flames shining through wine or cognac.

Billy’s hands gripped the front of his shirt and jacket, holding him at bay, refusing his kiss as his eyes searched him, silently pleading for sanity to see something else. To see brown. To see -

“Don’t tell me no if you want it, Father.”

Billy planted his feet on those shoulders and shoved him away, but only far enough to give him the space to slap Steve across the face.

Steve caught himself briefly with a hand on the tiled floor, only to fully collapse onto his side. Billy clutched his trousers up, shielding and putting himself back together. “Get out.”

“Why?” Steve asked. He used the pew to steady his ascent to his feet and stood toe to toe with Billy.

“Because I said so.”

Steve scoffed a mirthless laugh. Billy recoiled from the little touch of Steve’s fingertips to his chin. “Just like a priest. Righteous to all but your god.”

“Get out,” Billy growled. “Your kind don’t belong here.”

“What kind is that? Queer or...old fashioned?”

“Is that your wording for it?” Billy threw back. He didn’t dare say it out loud. Demons were monsters of legend and bullshit, not....not.....

“We’re older than your god,” Steve said like a reminder. “And according to your own Scripture, start off the same as angels. What makes us different?”

“Disobedience,” Billy spat out, but the small, even warm, smile on Steve’s face was like a mirror showing Billy his own hypocrisy.

“We, are honest. Humans, are liars. I’m no different now than any other second you’ve known me. But you can’t use Scripture against me. You don’t believe in it.”

Billy grit his teeth, upset beyond measure that even through his anger and fear, he could feel Steve’s saliva cooling and drying under his clothes. “What are you, then?”

“Patient,” Steve replied as he began to stroll past Billy, his cheek inflamed a violent pink. “Next time you want to feel God again, you let me know.”

Billy snuffed the candles out and took the longest shower of his life that night.

And the night after that.

And after that.

Billy had grown accustomed to being alone. But when lights were out and solitude sloughed off into loneliness, he felt the bone-deep whine of yearning inside himself. He felt the ghost of hands on his thighs and his own fingers could not replicate the mouth as he jerked himself off once, sometimes twice a night.

He knows what he saw. Steve knows what he saw and didn’t deny it.

The kids began to ask where Steve was. If Steve was going to show. Even the old priest asked, “Where’s that young man who’s been helping you?”

Billy would not bow. He never bowed to his father, and he did not bow to God. He wouldn’t bow to some demon -

It’s not bowing if it’s pleasure.

Billy whirled around, hand clapping over his ear as the breeze tickled his hair. Dry leaves rolled over the walkways of the churchyard and along the street. Billy scratched his ear and returned to pruning his trees as they went dormant for the winter.

It’s not slavery if I’m your servant.

“Stop it!”

A pair of elderly women startled with sounds like, “Oop!” and shuffled past him along the street. Billy peered along the avenue, but did not see any sign of the creature - whatever Steve is - anywhere.

Billy went a year like that.

Not with whispers in his ears - those only happened the one time. Like a jape at Billy’s expense, the way Steve obeyed. Billy told him to stop, so he stopped. The Devil only corrupts those who let him in.

Except as winter finally gave way to spring. Billy began to wonder if he remembered things correctly. Steve’s laughter and the way he made the teens Billy mentored smile and come out of their shells.

But Billy warned himself that this rang a lot like missing him and focused on his apple trees blossoming.

Summer came easier. The heat and the work put Billy to bed for restful sleeps. Or maybe it was just Billy’s favorite season. Or maybe it was that he finally bought a house of his own and moved out of the church’s bedrooms. He had new things to occupy himself instead of just his job and gardening. He needed to figure out furniture and wall paint, and tearing out carpet shouldn’t be nearly as gratifying as it is considering how disgusting old carpeting is.

But the slope of summer into a new autumn only reminded Billy of the loneliness that hung off him like a dishtowel he forgot to take off his shoulder.

This time, he let the congregation do a mini apple picking event on his trees. They loved it. The old priest insisted that Billy take home whatever was left since he earned it by how well he tended to the trees and landscaping.

But that night, as he stared at the apples floating in his sink full of water, mid-wash because he realized the pie dough recipe he’d used last year was

Steve’s.

And it was bad luck to not share baked goods and

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself. He shook his head all the way to his front door, condemning himself that if he opened that goddamn door and -

Steve waited on his porch, head perking up like he hadn’t expected Billy to open it. His hands stayed in his jacket pockets as his - brown - eyes briefly wandered over Billy’s bare arms, tank top, sweatpants, and bare feet.

“What are you doing here?” Billy bit out with what little air remained in his lungs.

As if Steve had stolen it, he inhaled deeply. Easily, and exhaled, “You want me here. So I’m here.”

Billy’s stomach curled, and before he could analyze with what emotion, he slammed the door in Steve’s face.

Except.

As soon as the door closed, it felt...wrong. Instant regret coiled in Billy’s stomach, making him realize that the initial curl of his belly wasn’t disgust at all.

He wanted Steve.

He missed him enough to draw him this far outside of town.

Billy opened the door, unable to wipe away the grimace of anguish on his face as he saw those stupid Nikes still standing on his welcome mat.

“Billy?” Steve uttered softly. Like he was genuinely concerned -

Billy reached across the threshold, gripped that stupid jacket that matched his stupid Nikes, and wrenched Steve into his house. Lips crashed into his. Billy laced his fingers together behind Steve’s head, locking them together as he felt Steve’s hands fist the tank top around his waist.

Little vocal sounds escaped with Steve’s breath, panting into Billy’s mouth as he tilted to the other side, moaning hungrily. Those hands lifted Billy’s shirt to feel his skin, to grip his waist and follow the road of his spine up to splay over his shoulder blades.

Gripping Steve by the hair, he pulled him back to say, “Take my pants off.”

Swollen lipped and groggy eyed, Steve gazed at him drunkenly before going about the task. He knelt before him, dragging the waist of Billy’s sweatpants down with him. Billy’s ankles stayed trapped in the fabric while Steve placed open-mouthed kisses over his thighs, nuzzling the golden peach fuzz with his cheeks, lips, and nose,

Inhaled the smell of Billy’s skin.

Clumsy with his pants around his feet, Billy pulled Steve off again so he could turn around and fall over the arm of the couch. He didn’t even think about it, and Steve didn’t need orders. A second later, he felt his ass cheeks pulled apart, and blurted a curt sound at the wad of spit landing against his entrance. Then another exclamation moaned out of him as Steve’s tongue added to it, laving over his hole while his hands squeezed the backs of his thighs mercilessly.

Steve’s tongue did things Billy’s past lovers had been too shy to do; like plunging inside and wiggling lasciviously, making Billy drip and drool like an addict.

By the time Steve moved kisses across Billy’s lumbar and traveled up his spine to bite his nape, Billy was shivering with need. Steve whispered into his hair, “Billy?”

His arms curled over his head to thread his fingers with Steve’s hair. He exhaled something akin to relief at the sound of Steve huffing against the tug on his scalp. “Put it in.”

Steve only fumbled a second, like he had to remember that he didn’t need to use his hands to undo his jeans. Soft flesh and heat touched Billy’s ass before Steve wiggled a little, adjusting with his hair still in Billy’s grip. The head of his cock touching Billy’s hole made him lift his ass before his hands went slack at the pressure entering him.

Good pressure. The head of Steve’s cock pushing right into his prostate and not giving Billy a moment to adjust. Steve kept his thrusts shallow, driving directly into that spot while one of his hands slide up Billy’s torso. Billy felt open and vulnerable, the soft of his belly available to Steve’s wanderings. But far from afraid, he felt wanton and sexual as fingertips moved over his sensitive chest, making him rut backward onto Steve so he came at his own pace.

Steve wasn’t done.

With that arm around his front, he moved Billy further up on the couch and crawled on after him. Then he eased the rest of himself inside. Billy’s jaw dropped just as quickly as he picked it back up, clenching his teeth, but not from pain.

He was hard again, filled with that lustful thirst as if he hadn’t just splashed cum onto his new couch.

Steve sat up on his knees, and gripped the crooks of Billy’s pelvis as he said, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

Billy didn’t tell him to stop.

He listened to the slaps of their skin and his own voice until Steve’s orgasm gripped his heart with his soft moans of release. He let Steve turn them onto their sides, lifting Billy’s leg up to keep thrusting into him until Billy came for the second time. Then Steve turned him all the way onto his back, lapping up the mess on his abdomen as he glanced up at him with red eyes...

Billy’s cock gave a weak little kick, and he slowly gasped as Steve crawled over him to straddle his pelvis. He took Billy inside himself, somehow lubed, and Billy no longer cared because Steve rode him like he needed this. He frowned over plush lips, panting and rolling his hips and lifting Billy’s hands to touch his body...

It was dangerous, how much Steve craved him. How he put Billy’s hands everywhere, on his nipples, on his ass, on his face to suck on his fingers. Steve was shameless and rode two more orgasms out of Billy before he begged Billy to swallow him down.

“Please! Billy taste me...please.”

Steve toppled easily with a push on his chest. Billy followed him up to thrust between his legs and feel tingles through the arteries of his legs as if another orgasm were possible. But Steve, with his wine irises gazing up at him through hooded lids, gripped his erection and pumped it slow, giving Billy time to decide.

So, replacing his dick with his fingers, Billy mouthed at Steve’s cock, before taking it inside and sucking until he tasted salt. Steve didn’t ask him to swallow, but he did, and then toppled right on top of Steve, sound asleep.

He woke to the smell of cinnamon and sugar in his house.

The smell of apples.

#harringrove #priest!billy #demon!steve #ficlet #neonponders #service top steve #smell of apples

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ark3750 · 2 years

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Will you under - perform if you are left-handed?

Apr 05, 2022

Experts say at least 10 per cent of the people in the world are left-handed, and that’s not a small number. However, despite this, lefties often struggle to perform basic daily tasks in a world designed for right-handers, and until not so long ago, faced widespread social stigma too….

In Christianity, the right hand of God is the favored hand. Centuries ago, the Catholic church denounced left-handed people as servants of the devil. For generations, left-handed Catholic children were forced against their will to become right-handed.

Just a few short decades ago in Japan, the fact that your wife was left-handed could be cited as grounds for divorce!

In India, left-handedness is still considered a very bad omen among the Hindus. People who are left-handed are often not welcome to perform puja ceremonies, and a lefty is often referred to as someone who uses the ‘wrong hand’ — 'ulta' (opposite) as opposed to 'seedha' (straight and right). Naturally left handed kids are forcibly converted to right handed since it’s considered highly inauspicious to eat, write n even worship with the left-hand. The left hand is considered 'unclean' since it is the hand people generally use for washing themselves.

You will never succeed in life, one is warned if one doesn’t give up the bad habit of being a left-hander.

In Islam, the prophet forbade his followers to eat with their left hand because eating with ones’ left hand makes one EVIL like Satan. Really….!! The holy seer, Osama-bin-Laden was left-handed.

The International Left-Handers Day was observed for the first time in 1976. Ever since, it continues to be observed annually on the 'unluckiest of days',- August 13.

What’s common between,-

A) Iconic n historical leaders:

Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Napolean Bonaparte, Thomas Jeffersson, Benjamin Franklin, Queen Victoria, Rani Lakshmi Bai, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa n Narendra Modi

B) American Presidents:

James A. Garfield, Herbert Hoover, Harry S Truman, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama

C) Hugely successful Industrialists:

Henry Ford, Amar Bose, Dhirubhai Ambani, Ratan Tata, L.N. Mittal, Rahul Bajaj, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs n Mark Zuckerberg

D) Iconic Sportspersons:

a) Tennis Legends:

Rod Laver, Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe, Martina Navratilova, Monica Seles, Goran Ivanisevic, n Rafael Nadal (Won 21 Grand Slams,- most by any player n is not done yet!)

b) Football Legends:

Pele, Johan Cruyff, Diego Maradona n Marco Van Basten

c) Chess Greats:

Gary Kasparov n Vladimir Kramnik

d) Formula 1 Champion:

Ayrton Senna

e) Cricketers:

Sir Garfield Sobers, David Gower, Allan Border, Sanath Jayasuriya, Wasim Akram, Adam Gilchrist, Kumara Sangakkara, Sourav Ganguly, Yuvraj Singh, Chris Gayle, Brian Lara n Sachin Tendulkar (Bowls, eats n writes with his left hand)

E) Rarest of the Rare, Genius Scientists n Inventors:

Aristotle, Sir Issac Newton, Alan Turing (father of AI) n Nicola Tesla

F) Nobel laureates:

Marie Curie (twice), Pierre Curie n Albert Einstein

G) Creative Geniuses who kept raising the bar:

Mozart, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Pablo Picasso, Hans Christian Andersen, Mark Twain, Leo Tolstoy, Hellen Keller, Walt Disney, Charles Chaplin, Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia, Morgan Freeman, Michael Jackson, Rajnikanth, Asha Bhonsle n Amitabh Bachchan (is ambidextrous - writes with both hands n fights, shoots n eats with his dominating left hand)

They are all under-performers in life. Why…. b’cos they were cursed to be natural left-handers. Imagine what more all of these 'under-performers' might have accomplished had they not irresponsibly n stubbornly decided to stay left-handed/left-footed!!!!

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goldenslumbersfanfiction · 3 years

Note

If you're taking prompts, I'd love to see your take on Dani reuniting with Judy after Bly.

Read it here on AO3

It’s Carson who calls you first.

When you hear his voice on the other end of the phone, you feel like you could sing and cry at the same time. You feel like you should have called him ages ago, but you also feel like there never would have been enough time that would have felt right; too little time turning quickly into too much time between then and now.

Every time you’d think about him, you’d remember that the last time you saw him was about a week after the funeral. He used Eddie’s key to your house and found you right there on the couch. You hadn’t showered in five days, because he would always be in your bathroom mirror, and you couldn’t undress under his gaze. You weren’t making much sense, everything was a blur, but you must have gotten something across, because Carson came into the bathroom with you and held up a giant bath towel to block you from the mirror while you undressed and got under the hot spray, and he ordered pizza and a few penne vodka dishes that would heat up well for you for the next couple of days. He watched a movie with you, hugged you goodbye, and that was it.

But it’s years later, and you’ve traded one ghost for another, and he had asked your mother for your new number so he could call you for your birthday and catch up, because he just found a bunch of old photos from when you were all little, and he misses you.

So you talk, and it’s wonderful, and you missed him too. And he calls you again the next week, and it becomes a regular, beautiful thing you do every Sunday you can, and you talk about movies a lot, but you talk about everything. After a couple of months, you tell him about Jamie, and he tells you that he’s proud of you. He never asks you if you didn’t love Eddie, and you’re grateful, because he knows you did, so much, but he also knows that it takes time to learn who you are, and there shouldn’t be any guilt in that. He tells you about this guy that he recently broke up with, and you are shocked and delighted when he also tells you which presumed-straight boys from your high school he was making out with in the bathrooms during study hall.

It feels like something holy and uplifting, your phone calls with Carson. It feels like forgiveness and reconciliation and it feels like healing.

It’s an accident, one day, when Judy answers the phone.

You called Carson’s house to talk about My Blue Heaven which just came out last week. He told you that you had to go see it and call him back to talk about it. You were partial to Pretty Woman, which came out earlier that year, but you were ready to hear his tirade about how Steve Martin is the comedic genius of your generation, and how could it not be your favorite movie of the year.

This was the conversation you were ready for when Judy’s voice comes through the end of the receiver, and you feel as if you have been plunged into cold water at the shock of it. But her sweet voice still sounds like a particular kind of home, still holds your heart, even though she’s asking if anyone is on the line because you are silent, stunned by it, and it takes you a second to recalibrate, to find your voice again.

“Judy?”

“Yes?”

“Judy it’s...”

“Danielle?”

It surprises you how quickly she identifies you, because you don’t think Carson has told her about your phone calls. But you suppose, she did watch you grow, has known your voice as a little girl and as a teenager and as a woman, has heard it from across dinner tables, shouting on school playgrounds, has heard it through sore throats and through tears and through happiness.

Carson’s not home right now, but she tells you she just swung by to pick up some Tupperware that she sent him home with last week and needs back for a potluck tomorrow, but what a lucky coincidence, because she’s so happy to hear your voice. It strikes you how there she is, in his life, in his house, answering his phone, how close Carson has always been to her when he’s been talking to you. The idea of reaching out to her always seemed like something so far away, something so beyond what you were capable of reaching for, and so you lost all sense of what it might look like, sound like, feel like, to just tell her about your day and know she’s listening with all the love in her heart for you, even after all this time.

You talk to her for a little while. You tell her about The Leafling, about your business partner, about the Vermont winters and how she would absolutely hate them because she hates shoveling snow. She updates you on all of her sons and their new children or their new homes or jobs, and she talks about Eddie too, with a fondness that could only come with time.

But she tells you she’s planning a trip to New York with a bunch of her friends from church in a couple of months, just to see the sights and go to some Broadway shows, have Junior’s cheesecake, and a Nathan’s hot dog in Coney Island, but not to ride the Cyclone like some of her other crazy friends, her head would fall of if she did, she says, but she’d love to see you while she’s somewhat nearby.

You’d love to see her, too. You want to see her, need to, more than you ever thought you could need something that you didn’t know you needed just twenty minutes ago.

There’s a twinge in the back of your head, a tickle, a feeling, a sympathy, and perhaps, a jealousy, that you have not been forgotten by this woman who loved you a lifetime ago. That you have not been discarded or moved on from or buried. You’ve co-existed with this feeling for nearly four years now, and she doesn’t remember, but she feels, and you know her worries and her agonies well, and you know she was abandoned. But the lady from the lake is also you now, so she can feel what you feel as well if you let her, and so you share this with her because you think she might need it just as much as you do. You let her participate in this feeling of being missed and loved and remembered, and you let her run her hands along the fondness in your chest, let her wrap her arms around the way your eyes start to sting as you feel it fully.

Judy gives you her home phone number, just in case you forgot it, as if you ever could, like it isn’t burned into your memory, like the last four digits aren’t the PIN for your debit card. She tells you to call, and you can set something up.

You talk to Judy a few more times over the next couple of months, but unlike your conversations with Carson, you seem to have an unspoken understanding that you’ll share deeper updates when you’re face to face, heart to heart. You decide to meet her in New York in October. It’s Jamie’s favorite time to go on long drives, when the roads are surrounded with red, orange, yellow, green trees and blue sky for miles and miles, and she can let the windows down and feel the cool crisp air against her skin.

Carson jokes that you always liked Judy best, that of course you're seeing her first, when he’s been talking to you for months. You tell him it’s only because Judy agreed that Pretty Woman was better than My Blue Heaven, obviously, but that he is welcome to visit you in Vermont any time he wants. June, perhaps, and he laughs so loud, and tells you he’ll absolutely take you up on it, and you love this idea, of creating a new kind of life, an honest life, with Carson as your friend. You hope that Eddie would be happy, that he’d be as proud of it as you are, but it’s okay that you’ll never know.

You close the shop for the weekend and drive down to New York on a Friday, and when you get to the hotel, it all sort of starts to hit you a little bit more than it has before. Jamie can tell, and when you’re standing there in the middle of the room, between the crisp made bed and the window, unsure of what to do with any of your limbs or any of your thoughts, Jamie comes up to you and puts her arms around you, and you are so thankful that you have her. You are so thankful that Jamie is here for you, for this.

She had met your mother a couple of years ago, and it went about as well as you expected it to. But it’s Jamie, and she knows that Judy matters more, somehow. It’s Jamie, and she knows you better than anyone else, and the only other person you have ever been able to say that about, before her, was Judy.

Jamie takes you out, and your nerves about tomorrow aren’t forgotten, but they are at bay, and you have a beautiful night out with her. You go for a walk along the Hudson River after dinner, and you’re both tired when you get back to the hotel, but not tired enough to not take advantage of this king sized bed, and Jamie proves to you how much she loves you, how she’s right here for you, so close, and you prove it right back.

You sleep so well that night, curled up against Jamie’s skin, the only place you have ever truly felt like you belonged, aside from under Judy’s roof, and you know that the reason you are anxious to see her again tomorrow is only because you are worried she won’t be a safe place for you anymore. You had decided that you would be nothing but honest with her, and you are worried that she won’t recognize who you’ve become, will decide not to love you, will say goodbye to you after your lunch, disappear around a corner, and that’ll be the end of it.

When you tell all of this to Jamie in the early morning light, and she wraps her arms around your waist, kisses your neck where she’s tucked, and tells you that yes, it’s all possible, that this could happen, but that she knows how wonderful you are, how beautiful and perfect you are, and anyone who knows you a tenth as well as she does couldn’t ever turn away from you if they knew what was good for them. You’re blushing and smiling and hiding your face in the pillow, and you don’t know how it’s possible that Jamie can say things like that and make you feel so shy and freshly in love, when you’re lying here naked with her with a ring on your finger with years of nights and mornings just like this behind you.

You eventually get out of bed, and you dress, and the morning passes in a bit of a blur, and you kiss Jamie goodbye as you head out to lunch at the restaurant you picked near Judy’s hotel, and when you see her, she is standing alone on the sidewalk outside, looking up and down the street for you, excited and nervous like you are. She hasn’t spotted you yet, and you just take a moment to look at her, this woman who took you in and raised you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

You feel it again, that twinge, that tickle, in the back of your head, when you let the lady see that this woman is searching for you. It’s a mother’s love, and that impossibly never ending search for one more chance to hold her daughter close.

When you see her, it feels, at once, like no time has passed, and like you have both lived lifetimes apart, but she pulls you in to one of her too-tight hugs, and you sink into her and she smells exactly the same, and she feels just right, and you think, if you close your eyes, you might be eleven years old again, or nine, or twenty-two. You might be in her living room, or at your high school graduation, or at her son’s funeral, or here, on the corner of 24th and Madison after not having seen her for five years, but you know that you are home.

She holds your face between her palms, and gets a good look at you, runs her hands down your arms to your hands to squeeze them in hers, and she briefly falters when she feels the ring on your finger, looks down, and then back up at you with a surprised, but absolutely joyous smile.

“Oh...yeah.” You laugh a little, bring your hands up to your chest, fumble with the ring a bit. “I’m sort of...”

She looks at you with so much love, says, “Oh, Danielle. I can’t wait to hear everything.”

So you tell her, as much as you can, you’re as honest as you can be while leaving out the tickle in the back of your head, while omitting the last twenty minutes of her son’s life. Some information is best withheld, you think. Some lies spun out of love and protection. This lie, this omission, would have Eddie’s blessing, and so you feel no guilt.

You tell her about Jamie, and she is a bit surprised, but not upset. She’s so happy for you, and you can see it in her face, the truth of her joy when she asks to know more about her.

You tell her how you met, how after Bly you stuck together, travelled a bit, settled, opened a store together. When you tell her about the small ceremony you and Jamie had for yourselves on a trip to Utah, where you exchanged rings, just the two of you and the Trembling Giant at sunset, she says something you’ve never had the courage to voice, even after all your years thinking about it, after all the times you’ve dove deep into the pain of it with Jamie by your side.

“You never would have met Jamie, had he...you know.”

Had he lived.

Had he lived, you never would have been this happy.

She says it so matter-of-factly, so assuredly, but still so sad, and you think about something Jamie had told you the last time she grew a moonflower. How it’s meant to die, meant to break down and rise back up, but the memory of it...that’s what lasts. The work you put into it doesn’t go away, just because the bloom has wilted and crumbled. That’s why you grow a moonflower. To tend to it, to love it, for the brief time it’s here, because it’s worth it. You send that material back to the earth then, and you see what will grow next from its atoms.

“No, I...I probably wouldn’t have met her.”

“Well...” she sighs, “Maybe it was him you know? Maybe he...wanted to make sure you’d have someone. He would have wanted to make sure you were loved.”

“Maybe it was, yeah.” It’s a lovely idea, that Eddie might have guided you from another realm with a forgiving and loving hand right into Jamie’s embrace. You don’t have the heart to tell her that she isn’t wrong, that it was his gravity you were trying to escape when you found yourself in Jamie’s orbit.

“Danielle?”

“Yeah?”

She takes a deep shaky breath, and you feel like, maybe, she’s thought about what she’s about to say to you. Thought about it for some time.

“Honey, I want you to know...that you’ll always have a place in my family. But I don't want you to think that...that you owe me, or anyone, any sort of connection to Edmund. I really...I really just want you to be happy, and...I mean, he was my boy, you know? I think about him every day and I’ve got all of our memories, and that’s enough for me. I’m always going to be here to talk about him, if you want, but I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I love you.”

Your throat is so tight, you can not possibly reply, but it’s Judy, and you don’t need to speak for her to understand you, so you just nod, and you wipe the tears that have fallen down your cheeks away with your napkin, and she reaches out and you place your hand in hers. You tell her that you love her, too.

It’s wonderful, getting to know her a little bit better like this. It’s beautiful, to learn about her as a woman, as a person, and not just as the mother who would always pack extra snacks in Eddie’s lunches because she knew he’d give them to you, not just as the women who always had the guest room made up for you, or who grounded her kids when they broke curfew, but as someone you can love outside of all of that, and for it all, too.

When you get home to Jamie, you are tired, and drained, but so full. You lie in bed and she lays behind you and you doze off at some point, but she’s still right there when you wake up, with her arm around you and her lips on your shoulder pressing kisses into your skin.

The rest of your time in New York is short, but lovely, and you go back home on Sunday afternoon, and it’s weeks before you realize that the tickle in your head has been oddly quiet, oddly introspective, and the lady has been much softer and kinder since you’ve reconnected with Judy.

You don’t know much, but you know she was left behind, by a daughter perhaps, and you hope you can show her that the world isn’t always cruel. That even when people do forget, it’s not because they really want to, but it’s always because people can only carry so much, and they’re making room for things. It’s always because they’re making space in their arms to hold other people close.

You think that the lady is contemplating this new idea that you’ve let her have these last few weeks. Reconnection. You think she’s learning that there’s forgiveness in it, that there’s undying love, and pain, and humility, and all types of wonderful things. You think she’s learning to be a little bit kinder, and with every batch of photos you exchange with Judy, every voice message you come home to on your answering machine, every time she makes you laugh and you feel like you’re fifteen again, you notice the swirling gravity of the lady stills, and you feel her rest, and inhale, and feel it all, too.

#jesus christ this just became 3k words #dani clayton #judy o'mara #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #prompts #I haven't had my tea yet so if there's typos in this its bc I haven't coherently proofread

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