#latin dancing instruction

[flightlessangelwings]

The Way We Feel When We Dance

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count-3.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader dances, protective!Peter, harassment, Spiderman picks up reader (he has super strength but still I wanted to add this here), reader is hinted to be more curvy but it open to interpretation, fluff, feelings, Peter and reader are both adults and are at a dance club in the beginning, no use of y/n

Notes- This is a very late part 2 of my 5k follower thank you gift fics (I did one Pedro character and one non Pedro character lol). Thank you all who have been following and supporting me and my works here! While this reader is not physically described at all other than body parts, I pictured and heavily implied that she is Latina here. But it can absolutely still be read by anyone. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that as well and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

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The pulse of the upbeat Latin music reverberated through the room as the lights danced in harmony with the beat. Sweaty bodies filled the dance floor that all moved to the rhythm. Feet stepped in time with the beat as hips swayed from side to side and arms shimmied with purpose. Smiles and laughter filled the air between each dancer as everyone had a fun time dancing the night away.

From the edge of the room, Peter sat at the bar. Even though the crowd, his gaze stayed solely on you. You captivated him with the way you danced to the music, carefree and beautiful. Your outfit accentuated your hips perfectly, and Peter couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Feeling his eyes on your figure, you opened your own from when you closed them from getting lost in the music. When your gaze met his, a bright smile lit up your face, which Peter mirrored. He raised his glass up in cheers as he watched you melodically make your way across the dance floor. A tinge of heat rose across Peter’s face as you stared at him with intent as you closed the gap between your bodies.

“Why don’t you join me, Peter?” you asked in a sultry tone as you swayed your body against his.

Peter’s cheeks reddened, “You know I have two left feet, sweetheart,” he giggled, feeling like a schoolboy around you.

You smirked as you leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “You can swing from building to building hundreds of feet in the air,” you teased, “And you’re afraid to dance in public?”

“It’s not the same,” he retorted playfully as he nudged your side. Peter’s gaze dropped down to where your hips still swayed from side to side in a slow, lazy rhythm, “Besides, I’m enjoying my view right now.”

“Oh come on, Pete,” you pleaded as you slid your hand in his, “Here I’ll start off with an easy one. It’s three steps, I think you can handle it.”

“But…”

“Come on, babe!” Your instance was firm yet light-hearted. You knew if he truly didn’t want to dance, he would stop you, and you wouldn’t force it. Sometimes, your boyfriend just needed a little encouragement. And besides, you really wanted to feel his arms around you and the two of you danced together to the beat of the music, letting the rest of the world fade away…

Peter’s nervous giggle got drowned out by the music as he allowed you to guide him back to the dance floor. With all his strengths as Spiderman, Peter knew that you were his ultimate weakness, and he couldn’t deny you anything even if he wanted to. So, he could put his insecurities aside for the night and dance with you. Besides, holding you close as you lost yourselves in the music wasn’t a terrible thought…

“Put your arms on my waist,” you instructed once you found a spot on the dance floor with some space to move.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned widely as he did so.

You rolled your eyes for a moment, but let out a soft gasp when you felt his tight grip on your body. It made your heart pound more than the dancing did as the warmth and security of his embrace engulfed you, and you lost yourself for a moment. It was only your name in Peter’s voice that brought you back, “Right,” you met his eyes as you placed your hands on his shoulders, “Ok, watch me and do what I do in reverse.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded as his gaze slowly ran down your body. He took the opportunity to study your outfit and how good it looked on you up close, and he memorized every inch of your figure.

“Like this,” you started slowly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stepped to the rhythm in a simple motion, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” you stepped back and first, side to side as your hips shimmied to the music.

Peter tried his best to keep up, but under your lead, he found he quickly fell into the rhythm. 

“That’s it!” you exclaimed as you started to pick up your pace to better match the beat that played around you.

Laughter erupted from Peter as he felt himself get lost in the music too. The Latin beat that played highlighted your movements as the two of you danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms. A grin of your own lit up your face as your lips parted in a wide smile and you started to add more flair to your movements.

Peter was captivated. He almost forgot to move as he watched you lose yourself in the music. You looked so beautiful like this, and Peter counted himself the luckiest man in the world to get to have you, to get to be with you. A stupid smile lit up his face as he lost the rhythm on the song that played from being too enthralled with you.

Until…

“Ow!” you exclaimed as you suddenly stopped dancing.

“Sorry!” Peter realized what the problem was: he was so focused on you that he accidentally stepped on your foot, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated as he caressed your shoulders, “You alright?”

“I”m fine,” you waved it off with a laugh. Feeling his grip on you, suddenly the music faded away and your world became just Peter. The way he held you and the way he looked at you made your heart flip in your chest, and you found that you didn’t care about your night out of dancing anymore.

Sending the change in your demeanor, and knowing that look on your face, he leaned in close and murmured, “Wanna get out of here?” Peter’s tone was low, rumbling against your ear and sending a chill down your spine. He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of your nose while he was so close to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting that exact same thing.

This time, it was Peter who slid his hand in yours and led you away. You followed willingly and eagerly as you couldn’t help but giggle. No one had ever made you feel the way Peter did, and finding him was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

And Peter felt the exact same way about you.

The cool air made you dizzy for a moment as the door to the outside opened. You let out a sigh as you adjusted to the feeling of the New York night air on your skin, and it became a welcome relief from the heat inside.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Great,” you answered, “Let’s go home.”

Peter smiled as he led you away from the club and into the busy night streets. New York truly never slept, and even late into the night, it was full of life and hustle and bustle. It was just as crowded outside as it was inside as you and Peter made your way down the long streets of the city. You felt safe, though, with your hand firmly in Peter’s.

But, you didn’t make it far before a group of men sneered at you as you passed by them. You felt their pointed gazes before Peter noticed them and you shuffled yourself closer to him. As the two of you walked by, they blew kisses at you and yelled obscene nicknames.

“Hey baby!” one of them shouted, “Why don’t you drop that little shrimpy boy and I’ll show you what a real man can do?”

The other man laughed as they all started to follow close behind.

Peter frowned as he pulled you in closer, tightening his grip on you, “I’ve got you,” he whispered to you, “Come on,” he turned down another street, hoping to lose the men in the crowd and avoid the situation escalating.

You let out a whine as you put your trust in him. Easily, you figured out that Peter wanted to use the crowd as a cover, but you stayed glued to his side still. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that the men weren’t deterred and still tailed close behind you.

“Peter…”

“I know, I…”

He was cut off when a drunk couple bumped into the two of you, knocking you out of Peter’s grasp. You yelped as you found yourself separated from him, and over the noise of the crowd, you heard him call out your name. 

“Peter!” you shouted back, trying to find him.

It was no use, though, and before you could blink, you found yourself alone. Not completely alone, though, as the group of men somehow found you after you got pushed away. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. You could find Peter later, right now your first priority was losing these guys.

You made turn after turn trying to shake them, but it was no use. No matter where you went, the men were close behind, and they were catching up to you. And they continued to taunt you while they did so.

“Come on, sweet girl,” one leered, “We won’t hurt you.”

“Too badly,” another cackled darkly.

“Just give us a chance, pretty girl,” another pleaded in an insincere voice.

You whimpered as you tried to look for Peter in the crowd again, but to no avail, “Peter…” you hissed, “Dammit.” Lost in your panic, you didn’t notice that you turned into a dead end alley until you were face to face with a brick wall. “Shit,” your hands trembled as you turned around and saw that the men followed you, trapping you in the alley.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” one of them said in a voice that sent a chill down your spine, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Looking down at the ground, you saw a loose brick that fell out of the wall. You picked it up and threw it in the men’s direction, “Stay back!” you warned as the men easily ducked out of the way of the flying brick.

The men just laughed as they reached out for you. Having no other options, you closed your eyes and held your breath, anticipating the feeling of their rough hands on your body. But, it never came.

A twip from above whirled through the air, and the ball of webbing hit the hand of the man closest to you. He was knocked back, and his hand was pinned to the wall, stuck with the webbing.

“Didn’t anyone teach you boys that when a woman says “no” that you leave her alone?” a voice rang from above.

You opened your eyes and looked up, breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Spiderman!” you exhaled as he flipped down from his perch and stood in front of you, blocking the men.

“Spiderman!?” the other men clamored, “We weren’t doing nothing, we just…”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” he replied as he flicked his wrist, sending more webbing to the other men.

They all clamored as they tried to fight back, throwing punches that missed the webslinger over and over again. Spiderman easily avoided their punches and with just a few more flicks of his wrist, was able to catch all of them in his net. The men grunted and cursed as they found themselves stuck to either the wall or the ground, unable to move.

“Damn, you Spiderman!” one cried out.

“Fucking cockblock!” shouted another angrily.

Spiderman ignored them and turned to you, “You alright?” he asked in a softer tone.

“I am now,” you replied breathlessly as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Want a lift out of here?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Feeling more at ease, a smile grace your face, “I’d love one.”

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” his voice was soothing to you as he extended his arms out.

You nodded. 

Spiderman stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you off the ground with his superhuman strength. He paused and turned to the men who pursued you and said, “This is how you ask a lady out,” he sniped, “You should try asking nicely next time.” he added before he flicked his wrist and launched himself and you up and away.

Normally, you were too scared whenever Peter carried you through the city like this. But, after what almost happened, you were too preoccupied to notice more than the cool air in your face and the tight grip around your body. You buried yourself in the crook of his neck as you tightened your own grip on Peter as he flung you between the tall buildings of New York and towards the tiny apartment you both shared.

In no time, Peter made it to your window, opening it from the outside and setting you down carefully and gently. He hurriedly closed it before turning back around to face you, ripping his mask off in one swift motion as he closed the gap between your bodies.

“Are you ok?” he asked in a panic, “Did they hurt you?” Peter’s hand landed on your shoulders as he looked you over for any cuts or marks as he finally allowed himself to feel scared for you.

“I’m ok, Peter,” you replied back, your own voice sounding distant, “You found me just in time.”

Peter’s eyes locked with your for a moment before he dropped to the ground on his knees before you. He started to sob as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in cose, burying his face in your midsection, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he choked out between cries.

Tears of your own filled your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned over, covering him as you both held each other, “Don’t be sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “You saved me. I know you’ll always save me.”

He couldn’t help but cry harder at your words as he tightened his grip on you, “When we got separated,” he started, pausing to catch his breath, “I was so scared,” Peter confessed, “I was so scared something would happen to you… And I wouldn’t find you in time…”

“Hey,” you wiggled your way down to join him on the floor, “Look at me, Peter,” you cupped his face, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you looked into his red eyes, “You will always save me, Peter Parker. I know you will. I trust you with everything I am.”

Truthfully, you were just as scared as Peter was. The moment you were separated, you lost your security, your safe place. And while you had faith in him- you always did- that fear was still there. But right now, you had to be there for him, since he was already there for you. 

Another tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, and you used your thumb to wipe it away. He whispered your name as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your touch under his skin. It was a comfort, and anchor, and Peter knew he had to trust you just as much as you trusted him. He saved you tonight. And he would always save you. That was his promise to you. 

“Peter…” you breathed his name as you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his.

It felt like an explosion of fireworks between your bodies as you connected as one. Passions quickly arose as Peter clung to you and deepened the kiss, tasting you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed him back just as passionately and tightened your grip on him.

Heat rose in the room as suddenly you both had one thing on your minds. The need to feel each other, to get tangled together and lost in the other, was overwhelming. With only breaking away for quick moments to undress each other, you and Peter clumsily made your way to the bed, stripping each other and kissing wherever you could reach along the way.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you and Peter were both bare for each other. He grabbed onto you in an attempt to land you underneath him as he leaned your bodies towards the mattress. But, you surprised him. You grabbed onto his torso and turned your bodies around so that by the time you hit the bed, you straddled overtop of Peter.

“Wow,” he murmured as his eyes trailed across your naked body on top of him. Peter’s hands caressed up and down your sides, feeling every dip and curve of your body, memorizing every inch of you with his hands.

“Wow yourself,” you snickered back as you bit your lip and enjoyed the sight of Peter, your Peter, in between your legs.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his pecs, giving them a soft squeeze as you rocked your hips along his. Both of you hissed and mewled as your folds ran along his hardening cock. Jolts of electricity ran up your spine with every movement, and you felt the way his cock twitched in anticipation underneath your hips.

Peter let out a curse as his hands dug into your hips. And he only groaned louder when you lifted yourself up to line up your entrance with his cock. Normally, Peter liked to take his time with you, kissing you all over and worshiping your body before he entered you. But today was different. Today, you were both too needy, too desperate to feel each other that neither of you could wait any longer. 

You let out a gasp as the tip of his length pushed past your first ring of muscle and started to stretch you out. Slowly, you lowered yourself along his length, letting Peter fill you up inch by inch as your hips moved closer to his. Peter’s own groans harmonized with your moans as he felt your warmth engulf him. 

“Fuck…” Peter whispered in awe when your hips met his and he felt your muscles clench around him. He moaned your name as he tightened his grip on your body and fought to keep his eyes open; Peter didn’t want to miss a second of how beautiful you looked.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you rolled your hips forward, feeling Peter’s cock inside you. You squeezed his pecs harder as you started to bounce up and down. Feeling bubbled over as you rode Peter’s cock so that they were almost physically palpable between the two of you.

Moving faster, you heard your skin slap against Peter’s as you felt every inch of him inside you. Heat rose in the room as you both clung to the other. Emotions drove you as your tights screamed at you the longer you lifted and lowered yourself onto him. But, Peter helped you. He used his strength to guide your hips along his cock, along his body. He never lessened his grip on you as he slid his hands to the soft mounds of your ass to help you and feel you more.

Peter lost the battle with his eyes, and they finally closed to allow himself to get lost in you. A louder groan echoed from deep with him as he felt your warmth and your tightness envelope him over and over again. And Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept riding him like this.

In a flash, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. Before you could register his movements, you suddenly found yourself on your back as Peter flipped your bodies over so that he covered you.

“Peter…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he grunted as he leaned forward, driving his cock even deeper into you as his forehead touched yours.

All you could do was moan as a shiver ran up your spine. Peter’s cock hit that sweet spot inside you with precision, and you felt like your body was floating as he started drilling into you at a fast and desperate pace. “Fuck!” you cried out as your body began to tremble.

Peter snaked his hand up the sheet and took yours as he continued to rock into you over and over again. You took his hand, holding it tightly as you felt his breath against the skin on your face. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions, and you could feel ones from Peter as well.

Peter groaned your name over and over again with every thrust of his hips as he held your hand as tightly as he possibly could.

“Peter… I’m gonna cum…” you gasped.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he words were strained from how breathless he was, “Cum with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

“Pete!” you cried out as more tears fell down your cheeks as your entire body tingled. As you were about to let out a loud cry with your climax, Peter’s lips suddenly covered yours, muffling your screams.

His own groans and grunts were muffled as well as he felt his own peak hit at the same time as yours. Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he kissed you deeply while he spilled himself into you. He could feel every muscle in your body clench around him as you came hard on his cock, and your moans reverberated within him as he kept his lips on yours.

Peter kept up his pace as long as he could, riding out every ounce of both your climaxes until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. With one final thrust of his hips, Peter finally broke the kiss as he pulled out of you and collapsed down next to you with a loud huff. You exhaled deeply as you caught your breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Together, the two of you laid sprawled out next to each other on the bed, letting yourself recover from that whirlwind of passions.

Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both instinctively reached out for each other, wrapping yourself up in a pretzel of limbs as you held each other close. You kissed his skin wherever you could, and Peter did the same to you, peppering feather light kisses on your body. As your heartbeats both came down to normal, a comfort washed over both of you. Feeling each other cose like this, knowing you were both here, made you know that everything was ok. You were ok. He was ok.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you, sweetheart,” Peter broke the silence, “No matter what. Your safety always comes first,” he said as he squeezed you tightly.

“I know you will, Peter,” you whispered back as you kissed his skin, “I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.”

“You always will be,” he sounded more distant, as if sleep started to take him over. 

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled, “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

You were quiet for a few moments before you grinned against his chest, “Next time we go out dancing, let’s leave the action for the dance floor instead of the streets.”

Peter joined your laughter as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

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You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

==============================

Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

[t4kalcvr]

VAMOS A BAILAR — k. tsukishima smau

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ S1, EP 5 . me vuelves loco

featured song : Loco by Enrique Iglesias, Romeo Santos

You weren’t exactly expecting to interact with this “tsukishima kei” at the party despite knowing he was invited by your brother.

So, it was even less expectant for you to be dragging him on the dance floor.

Your usual dance partner would be suna because he can actually move his hips swiftly enough to go with your movements.

And since tsukishima had been insulting your culture and interests, you decided to show him the goods about it.

and that’s why you’re here.

All he kept saying was “that’s stupid, whats the difference between pollo and asada?” or “why would you run around a field, and just kick a ball?” and the final straw, “dancing is just moving your feet, why so many names?”

thats why you’re hands are being intertwined with tsukishimas, as one of your favorite songs is playing too, Loco by Enrique Iglesias and Romeo Santos.

you’re pulling your bodies closer, placing his right hand on your hip, and your left hand around his neck.

you begin to sway your hips to the rhythm, “now find the rhythm,” you instruct as you feel him adjusting to this new intimacy.

“like this?” he mumbles, you started laughing, “squat a little less and please loosen up,” you advise.

tsukishima does as you instruct, “better,” you compliment as you began dancing. his lithe figure made it easier and it was a nice change from suna, he always takes too big of steps, you thought.

“so how is it from just dancing?” you inquire as your head rests on his chest.

“depends, what dance style is this?” he whispers.

“bachata,” you reply.

“then, i guess it is different.” he rolls his eyes, and tightens his grip on your waist as he hugs you just a tiny bit closer.

previous episode ‧₊* ‧₊ masterlist ⋆·˚ ༘ next episode

CREDITS —

translations 🪇 : me vuelves loco =you drive me crazy

bachata : bachata is a style of dance that originated in the dominican republic. It is danced widely all over the world but not identically. The basics to the dance are three-step with a cuban hip motion, followed by a hip tap on the 4th beat just like in other latin dances.

🗒️ : im probably gonna be out and about by the time this is posted so i probably won’t update all the links but anyways I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THE SONG IF YOU LISTEN IT!! this episode made me miss parties so much 😩😩😩

🏷️ : @mjustag1rl @ast4rg1rl @empress-pug-pug @softpia @yuminako @kagtobis @tsukistopglazer @yessimo @spicana @juie13 @whosmarjj @spicyhyunn @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @gravetomb @wearecooler @punkhazardlaw @theycallmenanamisgirl @mimisweetz @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @jojo23allegra @rory-cakes

[bigvampo]

further to the point that she is absolutely batshit insane:

lestat: piano, andante

louis: forte, allegro

so basically the thesis here is that lestat is slow and deliberate and soft and louis is loud and dynamic and cheerful and fast??? this is very interesting. like on its face seems the opposite if anything, but if lestat's view is that he's been sitting around eating rats and playing wood for decades waiting for louis to show up while louis has been jetting around the world with armand fucking 128 boys and telling his life story to journalists you might imagine he could feel this way.

and yet these things go together, they work together in musical compositions, which--

"bolero" could be several things, it's the name of compositions by chopin and ravel (i wonder if lestat would be into ravel?) but also a spanish dance and a romantic latin genre whose "lyrics often reflect themes of bittersweet, unrequited, betrayed, or eternal love." maybe all of the above???

i dunno about dancing but i tried to watch a few bolero instructional yt videos to see if it matched their dance at the hieronymus bosch party at the end of s1, hard for me to confidently say either way since i don't know what i am looking at.

but importantly!! "prostitue" is french for "male whore" so really this is just "come to me you little whore" with more sex noises

[marianadecarlos]

hewwo ma amie !! i came as stated cus bourbon - habsburg infodump exchange

I would actually want a presentation about mariana de austria ... im a loser who doesnt know much about her ! i read about her when she got to spain and was confused about spanish (that was so real from her) but i dont know more cool stuff about her at all ... so feel free to tell me anything you find remarkable about her !

who is your favourite bourbon ? :3

Thank you for this Question:

Queen Mariana of Austria is known as the Mother of Charles II of Spain and the niece/wife of Philip IV. She was Queen Regent when her husband Philip IV died and ruled on Carlos II's behalf until he was 14. Like Charles II, Queen Mariana was a victim of the classic “decline of Spain” paradigm. She is defined by 19th-century historians as “weak,” “unstable,” and “ignorant” but also “Machiavellian,” “scheming,” “with a German outlook” (meaning foreign), at times “melancholic” because she suffered from migraines, and was overly pious and uninterested in politics because she “dressed as a nun." She was accused of handing power over to her favorites; Jose Everardo Nithard and Fernando de Valenzuela. In reality, She was smart, strategic, strong, decisive, and seemingly tactile. Her favorites played a dominant role in her regency but her strong and decisive personality and her extensive and consistent participation in all aspects of government suggest otherwise. She faced two political crises during her regency the first was in 1669 resolved by her dismissal of Nithard; the second, between 1675 and 1677, ended with Valenzuela’s fall and her exile. There is evidence in state papers to prove that she did not surrender power to them. Speaking of Jose Everardo Nithard, He was Mariana's tutor, friend, and later her confessor. He was made inquisitor General. As for Valenzuela, Known as the palace elf, due to his influence and connections to people in high places. He married a woman who is part the queens valet. He provided Queen Mariana information about gossip and rumors that were circulating in Madrid. Valenzuela got more influencial overtime which created tension between him and the court. He was Mariana's protégé. Their friendship caused controversy and nasty rumors where made about them as a result. The worst one I believe was the rumor of Queen Mariana sleeping with Valenzuela. The fact that people actually believe that rumor makes me angry. Mariana was dressed as a nun because this is the type of dress worn by Habsburg widows. She made a few changes to the garb like having princely folds and lavish materials. Queen Mariana was exposed to the Spanish cultural traditions because Mariana's mother is Philip IV's sister. She was exposed to Italian culture because of two generations of italian empresses. Mariana both observed and participated in court ballets, rituals, and ceremonies; her dance master, Santo Ventura, was highly regarded. Boys received this kind of instruction as well. Leopold I, for example, was an avid consumer and practitioner of theater and music as emperor. At the age of seven, for example, Mariana publicly greeted her parents on their return from the Diet of Regensburg in 1641 by saluting her mother in the Spanish style and her father in Latin. When the fourteen-year-old performed a similar greeting in Trento, this time as queen of Spain, she had had at least seven years of practice. Queen Mariana was educated and spoke Latin, Spanish and German well. Judging by her education and her fleunt spanish, I doubt she struggled speaking spanish. I read somewhere that Queen Mariana as a child loves playing with dolls. She was cheerful, obedient, and lively girl. Her marriage to King Philip IV of Spain was always described as a terrible marriage because King Philip "cheated" on her, their different personalities, and massive age gap. In reality, They had an affectionate relationship and King Philip was loyal throughout their marriage. He described himself as a change man and would give Mariana everything she wanted. They did struggle financially though and at times could get caught in a series of arguments. I mean no marriage is perfect.

Gossip writer Barrioneuvo reports that one day The Queen asked for pastries and commented that she was not served for some days. She was told that the pastry cook would not supply the palace until a large outstanding bill had been paid. She removed a ring from her finger and ordered a servant to exchange it for pastries; Manuelillo de Gante told her to put the ring back on and gave the servant a copper to buy some tarts so that the Queen can finish her dinner.

Queen Mariana was the woman behind Castillio De San Marco, After a pirate attack in June 1668 roused Mariana into action. Queen Mariana was horrified receiving this news because the attack was so brutal. On March 11, 1669, the queen regent issued her decree ordering the viceroy of New Spain to send subsidies to the city. She also added funding for the building of a masonry fortification and additional soldiers. To oversee the project, she sent Don Manuel de Cendoya to St. Augustine as the new royal governor. Her judgement protected and spurred the city’s growth over the following decades. This growth even led to a later governor requesting the same regent queen for a new two-story, coquina Governor’s House in St. Augustine.

Mariana was a good mother-in-law to Marie Louise of Orleans. After the wedding of Marie Louise, Carlos introduced Marie Louise. Marie Louise bowed to her but Queen Mariana grabbed her hands and told her to stand; and said "Call me mother" with a smile.

Mariana in the year 1696 felt pain in her breast turns out she had breast cancer and she tries her best to hide it because she did not want Maria Anna of Nueburg to take over. The pain was unbearable that she asked the doctors to check her breast. When they examined the Queen they found a huge tumor in her breast. Their is no treatment for this and she was offered relics and prayers. When she died.

Reports of miracles attributed to her quickly began to circulate. These miracles and her body’s reported “incorruptibility” three years after her death led to a beatification proceeding in the last years of Carlos’s reign. Mariana’s path to sainthood, however, came to an abrupt end when the new dynasty, the Bourbons, took power. Both the beatification proceedings in 1698 and its abandonment in 1702 were as politically motivated as everything else in her life had been

I won't give too much information on her regency because there is a book about it called Queen, Mother, and Stateswoman Mariana of Austria and the government of Spain by Silvia Z. Mitchell. This book is my source about her and the reason why I made this blog so her side of the story will be known. Other sources are from https://governorshouselibrary.wordpress.com/2022/09/22/mariana-de-austria-the-queen-behind-the-castillo-de-san-marcos/?fbclid=IwY2xjawE5D5UBHUpP8HVhtFboR9ZThC2j5LNDLj531pKjmVxtGQbf7A2yMOo2AuNxqEU3Qw

I like 4 bourbons, Philip V, Luis I, Fernando VI, and Carlos III. If I had to choose one it would be Carlos III because he modernized Spain and imposed great reforms.

Sorry I took so long to reply

[will-one-with-the-bees]

Who is Aristaios?

Aristaios is the Greek god of beekeeping he is more commonly known as Aristaeus (the Latin spelling), he is the son of Apollon and Kyrene and is god of many things just a few include beekeeping, herbs, cheese making, olive cultivation and animal husbandry. He was worshipped in Thessaly, Ceos, and Boeotia, but especially in the islands of the Aegean, Ionian, and Adriatic seas, which had once been inhabited by Pelasgians. He doesn’t have many myths (I actually am thinking of making my own for him) but the main one (maybe only myth) is of him losing his bees and it goes as followed:

Aristaios lived in the countryside of Greece with his wife and his hives, he would often harvest their honey and milk his cows to turn into cheese. However one day he realised all his bees in his hive have died, he was obviously devastated so he went to his mother Kyrene a nymph he didn’t know quite where she was so he went into a lake where she often frequented and cried out for her wanting to know what happened to his bees. Soon his mother arrived and told him he’ll have to ask the old man of the sea (Nereus).

Aristaios goes to the sea and finds the old man of the sea and as he and everyone else in Greece knew at the time he’ll have to wrestle the old man of the sea and come out on top to get any answers which no one’s has done before, so there was no pressure. He jumped in and grabbed the old man of the sea and the old man of the sea swam around jerking about trying to get Aristaios off him, the old man of the sea turned into many forms to try and lose Aristaios but Aristaios was determined and kept hold. After a while the old man of the sea yielded and now had to answer Aristaios questions so Aristaios asked why his bees died.

The old man of the sea explained that his hive of bees died as punishment for causing the death of Eurydice, which caused his bees grew sick and died. Aristaios was advices to make a sacrifices for Eurydice. He needed to sacrifice 12 animals (or four bulls and four cows) to the gods, and in memory of Eurydice, leave the carcasses in the place of sacrifice, and to return 3-days later. He followed these instructions, establishing sacrificial alters before a fountain, as advised, sacrificed the aforementioned cattle, and left their carcasses. Upon returning 3-days later, Aristaios found within one of the carcasses new swarms of bees.

(Eurydice’s death: Eurydice was the Auloniad wife of musician Orpheus, who loved her dearly; on their wedding day, he played joyful songs as his bride danced through the meadow. One day, Aristaeus saw and pursued Eurydice, who stepped on a viper, was bitten, and died thereafter.)

He then went back to his quiet life of harvesting honey, making cheese, cultivating olives and going about now and again to teach mortals these important rural trades which we still use today.

[kissingghouls]

Let the Poison Spill

Chapter Nine - Return (ao3) // (previous chapter) // (list)

Cardinal Copia x f!Reader, Terzo x f!Reader

summary: Cardinal Copia knows just which Ritual to teach you. (4000 words)

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, SMUT, Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader, Secret Society, Horror Themes, Magic, more tags on ao3

The air of Copia’s quarters was thick with a haze of incense and wisps of swirling, smoky trails caught between the bars of the late afternoon sun. It gave the place a warm, inviting feeling—the first you had ever felt within the Order. The reality was anything but.

You’d thought, maybe somewhat naïvely, that Copia would be happy to see you. Sure, he was aloof around prying eyes, but the moments you’d shared behind closed doors had always been so intense you expected something. Instead, he wore a blank expression—the same he had in Imperator’s office. An unreadable mask that only reminded you that you barely knew him.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor, choking on the smell of woodsmoke and clove. The furniture had been pushed against the walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. The plush rug was also gone, replaced by a series of symbols etched onto the floor in thick white chalk.

Most of your preconceived notions of the Order had looked something like this. Some bullshit approximation of people in masks casting magic and dancing naked under the moon. This was the first time anything had even come close; even Secondo’s little experiments with your blood had looked sterile, scientific. Neither of you were dancing naked, but with this place you could never fully rule something out.

Even the mysterious Cardinal had surprised you by owning casual clothes.

His eyebrows knitted together as he cast a sprig of some unknown plant into the cauldron set between you, a flurry of sparks spitting into the air as it burned. He grinned softly, smoke licking at his features as he raised his eyes to you. He motioned for you to stand and offered a hand to help you to your feet.

His fingers traced up your arm and over your shoulder as he stepped behind you, instructing you to close your eyes. Finally, the two of you seemed to be getting somewhere. Your legs ached from sitting on the hard floor for the last hour. You had listened to him carry on about the nature of intention and memorizing near-impossible Latin phrases, but all you really wanted was to be pinned beneath him. The Cardinal had some horrible hold on you each time you saw him, one you knew from experience was equal parts dangerous and irresistible. Terzo was more of an open book, direct with what he wanted and his affections. Hell, everyone seemed to expect it from him. But Copia was frustrating, often saying one thing and doing another.

From the second you’d arrived for your little lesson he’d barely acknowledged you but now—now his hands were everywhere touching every inch of you.

“Focus, dolce,” he hummed into your ear, keeping his voice sultry and low. There was no way he wasn’t doing this on purpose, hovering just close enough for his breath to fan hotly across your skin. Everything about him was too warm, from the subtle hint of his soap to the trace of bourbon on his breath. It radiated through his black t-shirt, an article of clothing you could barely believe he owned.

“I am focused,” you sang back.

He tsked. “If you are talking to me, you are not focused.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have your hands—”

“Ah, ah, dolcezza,” he warned, tapping your nose with his finger. “Focus.”

You closed your eyes and began to chant the incantation he had taught you. Moving in front of you, Copia traced his fingers over the sigils he’d drawn across your collarbones.  The odd Latin phrases fell from his lips, syncing in time with the chant falling from yours.

The words felt heavy in your mouth, awkward and hard to pronounce as he moved to the symbol on your chest. He traced it once, twice, and a third time before laying his palm flat over the mark. He set his other hand against the small of your back, keeping you upright as the dizziness set in. He warned you repeatedly before you began, but it was so much worse than he let on.

Your jaw felt tight, head swimming as you tried to focus on the words. Your knees buckled, threatening to give out completely as you recited the last section.

“Bene,” Copia said softly. “Open your eyes, dolce.”

Slowly, you opened one eye just enough to catch him smirking at you. With a groan, you let your shoulders sag with disappointment. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, dolce. How do you feel?”

“Dizzy,” you replied flatly.

“Let me help you,” he offered, his smirk shifting into a devilish smile.

As he slipped his hand in yours, you felt an overwhelming surge of energy where your palms met. It shot up your arm and through your body, knocking you off balance enough that you fell into him. His other hand quickly slid over the small of your back to keep you steady as sparks of something you didn’t have words for danced up your spine.

“How do you feel now, tesoro?”

“What the hell did you make me do, Copia?” you hissed through gritted teeth. The feeling wasn’t painful; it was almost the exact opposite—the kind of high that was dangerous and addictive and really fucking scary if no one told you what to expect.

“A small enhancement Ritual, dolcezza. This one heightens your sense of touch. Simple, but,” he paused to draw his thumb over your back, that devilish grin growing wider as you tried not to moan. “It does work rather well, yes?”

“You did this on purpose,” you whined, trying to arch away from his touch.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m afraid it wears off too quickly to be very useful.”

“You could have just said you missed me. Like a normal person.”

“I have missed you, dolce,” he said lowly, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Is that what you want to hear, hmm? How the Cardinal aches for you? I’m afraid I may not be as patient as I once thought.”

You relaxed against him, the buzz of all that extra energy slowly leaving your fingertips. The spell wore off, the spark of contact just a distant feeling as Copia tightened his hold on you. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

He chuckled softly and gave you a little squeeze. “Are you not currently in my arms, dolce?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

He spun you around to face him. “Did you think this was all Sister Imperator’s idea?”

“Wait—”

“I can’t, dolce,” he whispered and pulled you close. His grip tightened as his lips crashed against yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss that had your knees buckling again.

He edged you backward, hands pushing you to the edge of the room as his tongue slipped into your mouth.  He kept moving, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and his hands pawing at your ass until he had you where he wanted you.  The two of you toppled onto his sofa, a false apology mumbled into your mouth as he hitched your legs around his waist.

“Satanas,” he groaned, grinding his cock against you. “You…”

“What?”

“You are something else, dolce. Hell sent; I think.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He seized the opportunity to start on your neck, whispering praises between each fevered kiss with a hand pressed tight around your throat.

“Can I have you again, dolce?” he asked as he rutted against you. “Will you let me?”

“Was this your plan the entire time?”

He paused, staring down at you with an almost bashful look. “Plan? No, dolce. More of an old man’s desperate hope, I’m afraid.”

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his pants, fingertips barely grazing his length. You smiles as his eyes fluttered. “I can feel your desperation, Cardinal.”

His head dropped to your chest as you closed your fist around his cock and pumped him slowly. “Sì,” he whined. “I am a desperate man, Sorella. I’ve thought of nothing but the taste of you since we last met.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Nothing else?”

He pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear, a pleased hum escaping his lips as you moaned. “The taste of you, the feeling of you. What I would do to you if I was given another opportunity…” He trailed off, grunting as you squeezed the base of his cock. “How I could make you scream my name.”

You let out a surprised “oh,” much to his delight. He sat back, balancing on his knees as his now free hands tugged at your leggings. You raised your hips and Copia nearly ripped the fabric from your body to get his hands on you. He wasted no time pushing your thighs apart to look at your sex with a little glow in his eyes. His fingers dipped into your entrance, sliding easily through your slick as he groaned. He pushed your shirt up with his other hand and pulled at the cups of your bra, eagerly bringing his mouth to your tits. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you, his hands and teeth fighting for new places to mark and explore.

You ran a hand through his hair, grip tightening on the greying strands as he bit down and curled his fingers against the sweet spot in your cunt. All you could do was whimper as he continued to work you over.

“You are beautiful like this, dolce,” he mumbled against your chest. “Desperate for me too, no?”

You nodded, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. He grinned as he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protests as he stared you down. Slowly, he sucked his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he finally got what he wanted. He drew them out with a pop and pressed them to your lips, his mouth falling open as you licked the remaining traces of yourself from his hand.

“Come here,” he commanded and pulled you up, crushing his mouth against yours. He grabbed at your hips, breaking the kiss so he could face you away from him. He smoothed his hands over your back, pushing you down into the sofa as he dragged his cock between your folds.

He pushed into you, filling you without warning. The stretch of him was too good, your cunt immediately tightening around him as he swore and stilled himself. He allowed you a moment of respite before he snapped his hips so hard any and all intelligent thought left you. You grabbed at the sofa, hands searching for something to keep you grounded as he tipped your hips just so, thrusting into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He made sure you felt every thick inch of him until you were nothing more than a babbling mess.

“I told you I’d have you slowly,” he whispered against your ear as he leaned into you. His hand trailed down, barely brushing over your clit.

You could only whine in response, desperately pushing back against him. He brought his hand down sharply across your ass and smoothed over the sting as the drag of his cock picked up slightly.

“Is that what you want, dolce? You want the Cardinal to fuck you senseless, hmm?”

“Copia, please.”

“So pretty when you beg, dolce,” he hummed as he bent forward and pressed a kissed between your shoulder blades. He grabbed your neck and pulled you up with him as he sat back, his cock reaching an impossible angle that brought tears to your eyes.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he asked as he thrust into you, his hand closing around your throat.

He began to fuck you in earnest, tiny sounds somewhere between pleasure and pain leaving you with each hard and rough snap. His fingers found your clit once more, relentlessly teasing your nerves as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Tears stung your eyes as the hand around your neck added just enough pressure to make you lightheaded for a moment. A well placed flick of his wrist combined with his circling hips nearly broke you, vision going white as you came hard around him, screaming his name just like he wanted. He followed right behind you, filling you with his seed as he growled and bit into your shoulder before sucking a painful mark over the spot.

The two of you collapsed, unable to keep yourselves upright anymore. The weight of him was comforting, but he was slick with sweat and radiating an ungodly heat that made it even harder to catch your breath. He dotted a few kisses over your neck before he peeled himself off you and sank into the sofa.

“Dolce, you might be the death of me,” he mused in a dreamy tone.

“Pretty sure you just tried to fuck me to death.”

“Hmm, but what a way to go.”

You gave him a weak, playful shove, letting him catch your wrist and pull you close as you pretended to try to get away. He held you there, your face pressed into the soft hair of his sweaty chest.

“Copia?”

“Yes, cara mia?” he replied, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“How is this supposed to work?”

“What do you mean, dolce?” he asked, his fingers passing through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I mean, how does it all work? Are we even allowed to be doing this?”

“What are we doing? Studying?”

“Fucking.”

“Ah.”

“Look, it’s no big deal. I just…I just want to know if I’m supposed to be keeping a secret.”

He sighed and brought his hand under your chin, urging you to look at him. “We are allowed to do whatever we wish, dolcezza.”

 “So, what? You guys can date? The clergy can get married?”

“Are you proposing, cara?” he asked, amused.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m afraid I’ve never had to explain myself to someone from the outside world before, but it is my fault for taking that for granted. Everyone here, from Papa to the Siblings and the Ghouls, everyone can date. They can also marry if they wish. Though it’s not often that people within the Order commit to monogamy if I’m honest. There are certain, eh, positions one could take on, but even those tend to be more ceremonial these days. We are all taught to indulge from an early age, dolce. And in a place like this there are many temptations.

Personally, I’ve always preferred to keep my private life and who I share it with to myself. Some of the others talk too much and try to show off, but I see enough of that during the Offering Rituals. You, however, are under no obligation to keep quiet about anything if you so choose. I have no right to ask that of you. Except maybe don’t run off and tell Sister Imperator.”

You snorted. “Yep, that’s exactly who I want to share details of my sex life with.”

“That choice is yours, dolce. Though I doubt she would appreciate it very much.”

“Oh, you don’t want tales of your prowess posted on the community board?”

He clicked his tongue. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

You shook your head and pushed away from him. “On that note—”

“Oh, no, dolce,” he purred, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Tonight, you are mine.”

“Is that right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I not dripping down your thighs as we speak?”

You groaned and buried your face in his chest to hide your blush.

“I let you get away last time,” he continued. “Besides, now that you are properly relaxed there are a few more interesting Rituals I can teach you.”

-x-

You knew better than to let yourself get attached to a man who took the time to tell you about the temptations of the world, but it did little to keep you from smiling as you woke up next to Copia. His stupid, too big bed provided just the right amount of comfort and warmth in the drafty abbey. It didn’t hurt that he’d locked an arm around your waist and fell into a deep sleep pressed against you either.

You quickly learned that he was a man of his routines as a series of alarms began to sound, one after another, at promptly five A.M. No amount of nudity or promised sexual favors could lure the Cardinal back to bed, much to your disappointment. You helped yourself to one of his shirts as he showered, only bothering with a couple of buttons. The lure of freshly brewing coffee had you drifting through the sitting room and into his tiny kitchen to wait for a caffeine fix.

As the coffee maker beeped to indicate the end of its cycle, Copia emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his hips and a determined look. You let out a low whistle, tilting your head to admire the way water dripped from his hair and down his chest.

“How do you take your coffee, dolce?” he asked as he opened the cabinet to retrieve two mugs. “Sweet like you?”

You made a face and shook your head.

“What? Not good?”

You clicked your tongue. “Let’s just say if you didn’t have an ass like that, I’d already be gone.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You like my assets.”

You groaned and jumped up from the chair to make a break for the door. A tiny yelp escaped you as Copia caught you around the middle and dragged you back toward the kitchen. Your feet smeared the chalk sigils on the floor, rendering them completely powerless now. You leaned against him, happy to have even a second of something close to resembling normal in this fucking place. He kissed the top of your head before releasing you, turning back to the very important matter of coffee—or at least what was left of it after he dumped half a bottle of creamer into his.

The goodbye was short, both of you knowing it would be easier to sneak back to the dorms sooner rather than later. You still brought a hand to your kiss-swollen lips, tracing over the places that still tasted like Copia and his caramel flavored creamer.  

You knew better, but you still hoped you would get to see him again soon.

A few Siblings rushed past you as you exited the stairwell to your floor. They quickly covered their mouths with their hands, leaning over to whisper to one another. Any other time, you could have brushed it off and assumed they were talking about anything, but the direct eye contact gave them away. You shook you head, running a hand through your messy hair as you tried to let it go.

Halfway down the hall Mary fidgeted nervously, hands tapping out a fast rhythm on his thighs. His eyes went wide as he spotted you, nearly knocking you over as he rushed forward. They grabbed ahold of you and pulled you into a random Sibling’s room.

“Ma—” He cut you off by clamping a hand over your mouth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he hissed angrily. “It’s pretty fucking obvious what you’ve been up to.”

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped and shoved him away.

“Oh my god,” they groaned. “Kitten, I really do not care who you are fucking, but if it keeps getting me in trouble, I will find them and kill them myself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Imperator is looking for you. Again.”

“What? Why?”

“You think she’s gonna tell me a fuckin’ thing? All I know is that she’s been looking for you all morning and fucking up my beauty rest.”

“Is that your code for a Ghoul booty call?”

“Said the Novitiate walking around looking well and thoroughly fucked,” he bit back, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but we all had lives before you got here. I’d prefer it if you didn’t fuck mine up just for some dick.”

“Mary, I’m sorry.”

He huffed out a ragged breath. “Me too, Kitten. C’mon, I have an idea.”

You followed Mary into the bathroom, squealing as he shoved your head under the spray of the shower. Once he was satisfied you looked like a drowned rat, he gave you a big toothy grin.

“How is this supposed to help?” you growled.

“Just follow my lead, Kitten,” he instructed and wrapped a towel around your shoulders.

Hesitantly, you trailed behind Mary as they made their way to your dorm. Sister Imperator was standing at your wardrobe, muttering to herself and angrily flicking through the selection of clothes the Order had provided.

“Sorry Sister Imperator,” Mary sang as they grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room. “Guess I had a little too much quintessence ghoul last night and forgot the Novitiate was using the shower in Sister Jeni’s room.”

Imperator made a face and stared your mentor down. “Mary, there are things that you can keep to yourself.” She sighed thoughtfully. “But I suppose we’ve all been there before.”

“You know how it is,” they added with a light laugh.

“Good morning, Sister,” Imperator greeted you with a dip of her head. “Something wrong with your shower?”

“Pressure’s off in the morning sometimes,” you replied without missing a beat.

She nodded. “The dorms are past due for a remodel, I’m afraid. Perhaps you could bring it up at dinner tonight.”

You shot Mary a look, but he simply shrugged. “I’m sorry, Sister. I don’t follow?”

She turned back to your wardrobe, searching through it with a renewed fervor. Ever since you met her the nun had been meticulous about her look, but now you could see her hair falling out of place and several wrinkles creased through the back of her blazer. Whatever she was here for was clearly bothering her. “Well, my dear,” she started, raising her voice over the scrape of clothes hangers sliding angrily across the bar. “It seems you’ve caught the eye of Papa Emeritus the Third. I can’t say I’m exactly surprised, but as always, he has a rather peculiar gift for timing.”

“I’m sorry?”

She gave an exasperated sigh as she turned to look at you, pieces of hair now falling over her face. “Terzo has chosen you as his escort for the Lupercalia festival.”

“He what?” you and Mary asked at the same time.

She ignored you. “Of course, he would pull something like this and interrupt your Ritual lessons. The man has never had any respect for our traditions—How was your first lesson with Copia, dear?"

You cleared your throat. “Eventful.”

“Wonderful! I’m glad to hear you and the Cardinal are getting along. Lucifer knows he can be unbearably dull.” She whipped around and shoved a dress into your hands. “I suppose this will have to do.”

“For the festival?”

She let out a genuine laugh. “Satanas, no. We’ll have something fitting made for you, dear girl. You will wear this tonight when you meet Papa Nihil.”

“Papa…Nihil?”

“Honestly Mary,” she tsked. “You’re supposed to be teaching her, no? Dear, Papa Nihil is Terzo’s father. I’m afraid his health has kept him from the congregation for some time now, but he has insisted you join the family for dinner. I will come get you promptly at 7. Understood?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Great,” she replied with a tight smile before flitting from the room.

“Mary?”

“Yeah Kitten?” he asked, still standing close enough to be of some comfort. You were grateful that Imperator didn’t appear to care whether Mary was at your side when she made these declarations.

“What the hell just happened?” You voice was small, a tiny weak pitch that failed to echo off the walls of your room. Moments before, you’d felt so powerful, able to capture the attention of that handsome Cardinal. To have him hold you through the night, insisting that you stay with him made you feel like a goddess. But your divinity seemed to reach much further than you realized and ensnared the equally handsome Antipope. And that appeared to come with expectations and consequences you weren’t exactly prepared for.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Mary admitted, shaking their head. “But this ain’t gonna be good.”

Creative block and real life have been a pain lately, but we did it. Thank you to everyone who has interacted and left comments and hoped that I would update soon. Was hit with A LOT of ideas for this one, so hopefully my brain will keep up. 💜

[realcatalina]

This is interesting info about languages Elizabeth of York spoke

This is excerpt from Most pleasant song of lady Bessy, and it is the part where Bessy(Elizabeth of York) manages to convince Lord Stanley to betray Richard and to contact Henry Tudor.

But he is scared, he thinks he cannot trust any scribe to write essentially treason. But Elizabeth turns around and says-oh I can write the letter. My father had me and my sister Cecily taught by a man from London. I can write well, in both English and French, and SPANISH!

(It is bit strange that the poem doesnt mention Latin, though correspondence from late 1490s strongly suggest Elizabeth knew Latin grammar too. But, we cannot rule out she learnt later than 1484/5. Or maybe she wasnt very good yet in that time and later gained confidence. )

However Bessy knowing Old Spanish/Castilian would make sense if she was intended to wed to Iberian peninsula. But we only ever hear about Richard III intending to wed her to Portuguese royal family. His reign is too short time for her to learn the languaeg.

I never heard that there were any plans to marry her to Spain specifically. But maybe as with Catherine of Aragon learning French to use at English court, maybe Elizabeth of York was learning Spanish to use at Portuguese court. Because it would make things easier for her at least a bit.

If it was true it might have indicate Edward IV already intended her for Portugal.

It is bit weird that the matter(her spanish) didnt get brought up later. If Elizabeth of York was confident enough to write in Spanish, why not write to spanish royals in her own hand in Spanish? Why not converse with Catherine of Aragon in Spanish? Could it simply not get into records?

It is but strange that only spanish wikipedia mentions Elizabeth's education. As source there is book Elizabeth of York by Arlene Okerlund.

But this what it says on their wiki:

When she was bethrohed to dauphin, her father arranged her to have language tutors from France, Italy and Spain.

Although she spoke French, it was not fluently.

(-yeah, in comparison to Henry VII probably not. He was master level.)

Schollars from Oxford taught her classics and experts in calligraphy(handwritting) from Scriptoria at Westminster Abbey instructed her. In other words she had greater education than most men in 15th century(except those ment for church), let alone a woman.

She was also instructed to read and write in English, learnt math, household management, embroidery or sewing, horse-riding, music, and dancing.

You know on first glance it looks overexagerated, but it would make sense given how educated Henry VIII was and his upbringing was mostly dedided by his mother.

If she was so well-educated as woman, it would make sense her son got even better education.

I know the poem might be propaganda. Just sneaking out to meet Stanley in private, would be very difficult. Although if both were at court...maybe. Elizabeth seems to have been given greater deal of freedom by Richard at court, than you would expect. Considering the man had her mother proclaimed whore, Elizabeth and her siblings bastards, and her brothers "dissappeared" in his "care".

But still it was originally written in late 15th century, likely after 1487/8 when Cecily became lady Welles. (First surviving written versions are from c.1600, it was passed on orally it seems-it was a song.) But i dont think we can just throw it away.

But we aware that part of the poem is Elizabeth pleading is her telling Stanley her uncle was making plans to poison his own wife and son.(Which if true, would mean he was starking mad.)

-But it might be that part of the poem is true and part is propaganda.

But the poem is wonderfully written and the dialogs are so logical.

Elizabeth keeps trying to remind Stanley that his titles, lands were given to him by her father and that Richard had no right to the throne, that her brothers disappeared and were not even buried in any sacred ground, that Richard got rid of his original supporters and he might well get rid of Stanley after his usefullness expires.

And he keeps telling her no, there is no real support for anybody else and thinks overthrowing him are foolish dreams etc.

But she keeps going. And revealing more. And big part of it is her saying her uncle wants her to come to his chamber and be his love and wife. And she is extremely oposed to the idea. I mean she lists all the suffering she would rather endure...than to come to her uncle's chamber.

Towards end of her pleading, when Stanley keeps rejecting to help her and wants her to leave, she starts crying, she throws away her headwear and says they will find her body in Thames, where she will drown, her bones shall lay on sand, fishes will feed upon her and that will be her destiny.

And that is what breaks Stanley.

There is of course more-it is very long poem. But I get why currently with the Ricardians trying to restore Richards image this is not being spread around. Because this was probbaly major inspiration source behind Shakespear's Richard III.

-of course it is entirely possible this part of poem is overexagerating/lying. Perhaps other parts too.

Tell me what you think, do you think it is possible she spoke Spanish?

[it-happened-one-fic]

Mambo - Prove It To You - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author's Notes: First Sebek fic (woo!) I actually really adore Sebek in a weird sort of way, but writing him was certainly a new experience! Especially since I was writing the Mambo.... Writing dancing is getting easier and easier though. Makes me realize how far into this series I've gotten. The dance in this fic was Heavily inspired by Heidi and Benji’s Mambo to “Black mambo” by Angel and the Mambokats on So You Think You Can Dance Season 2 Episode 18. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.

Type: Dance AU/ female reader/ fluff/ can probably be taken as flirtatious

Word Count: 1058

“Stop! Stop! Did you learn nothing from your lessons, pup?” I cringed in sympathy as Crewel proceeded to lay into Sebek yet again.

“This is a sultry, flirtatious dance. You need lots of hip action, and-”

“BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE!” This time I covered my ears and prayed for this particular exam to be over just a little bit faster.

 Sebek was beyond frustrated at this point, and it was, to a degree, understandable. He knew the foot motions and the mechanics of the mambo. But the general emotion of the dance was beyond him.

Crewel eyed the first year with no small amount of annoyance as Sebek continued on his tirade, not helping his situation at all by having interrupted our professor. “The dances of the Valley of Thorns have no such need for such… Frippery! Why does thi-”

“The mambo is not a dance of the Valley of Thorns, though, is it?” There was a certain venom to Crewel’s words that came from a man who had long lost patience with his current student as he all but prowled towards us.

“The mambo IS the dance you are being graded on in approximately 40 minutes, though! Now, I suggest you watch me and the Prefect go through your choreography one more time and pay attention!”

As I stepped quickly around the room with Crewel, letting the man spin me at high speeds before pausing for brief periods of sashaying place with our foreheads pressed together that featured considerable amounts of eye contact, I couldn’t help but feel kind of bad for the young man who watched us closely. Not to say that I wasn’t frustrated myself, but… To a degree, I understood Sebek’s struggles.

 The mambo was a fun dance that was both sensual and flirty. Two things that tended to clash with Sebek of the twenty-something missives that must be written before he was willing to sit with a person’s width between him and the object of his affections.

The fact that he’d received the mambo, of all dances, for his class was beyond unlucky. In fact, it was practically unfair.

Judging from what I’d seen of his dancing thus far during our practice, Sebek wasn’t actually a bad dancer. He just wasn’t a flirty one, which was, unfortunately for him, necessary for this dance.

The proof of his skills was the choreography that Crewel had put together for us. Our performance dance was beyond difficult and required almost perfect partner synergy. And Sebek was doing admirably…. He just wasn’t terribly well-suited for Latin dancing.

“There. You see? All you need to do is add the right emotion to your dance, and you will be ready. Now, again, from the top.” With only those instructions, Crewel stepped away. Leaving me waiting for Sebek, who approached with renewed vigor.

And yet, the very second he took my hand, I knew there was no way this was going to be correct. The proper steps would be there, but none of the attitude would be. 

So I leaned forward, causing Sebek’s eyebrows to lift questioningly, as my brain was already working hard to figure out exactly what I could say to get him to do what he needed to.

I did feel a tiny bit guilty as I smiled at him oh-so-sweetly, “Why don’t you ask Silver for some help after we finish up here? There will be some time between then and our performance, so he should be able to give you some pointers.”

Annnnd Boom. 

The immediate shock and irritation that appeared in Sebek’s strange-looking eyes told me exactly what I needed to know. He’d taken the bait. 

Bait, that I had not wanted to have to use, especially since I didn’t actually know if Silver would be any better at the mambo than Sebek. 

But, with any luck, this would get Sebek through this class. Hopefully with a passing grade.

“YOU THINK SILVER CAN DO BETTER THAN I?!” I flinched at his overly loud voice, and, as if he realized how deafening he’d just been, his voice was quieter as he continued, “I’ll have you know that I was the best dancer in my class back at the Valley of Thorns. While Master Lilia may have taught Silver well, I doubt that Silver would be anywhere near my level of prowess.”

My eyes darted over to where Crewel stood with raised eyebrows; mercifully, he wasn’t interjecting. Perhaps he was willing to leave this up to me.

“I just thought since you seem unable to get the right emotion for the dance that Silver might-”

“I’LL SHOW YOU HUMAN!” In an almost uncharacteristic move, Sebek’s voice lowered till he was almost whispering as he dipped his head down to mine. A challenge shined in his eyes as he continued, “I do not need him to show me how to dance, and I’ll prove it to you right here and now.”

I would have to apologize to both Silver and Sebek after this was all said and done. But right now, all that mattered was getting this awkward teenage boy through this dance and past this class.

 For the sake of both him and my eardrums.

So I made the final push, stretching up with a slight smirk on my lips as I allowed my expression to reflect his challenge right back at him, “Then I suggest you do just that, Sebek. Because I honestly don’t think you can.”

Despite our close proximity, the usually easily scandalized young man outright smirked down at me, not backing away in the slightest, “Have it your way, human.”

Still tired, but now rather amused, Crewel called out, “If you two are quite ready…?”

My eyes stayed on Sebek, who refused to back down even as he stepped backward, keeping his eyes on mine as he held my hand up in between the two of us. 

I grinned despite myself as I called out in response to our instructor and kept my eyes on the young man in front of me who was holding my hand as if there were nothing there, “More than ready!”

“I certainly hope you are, human.” Sebek’s gloating tone hadn’t lessened in the slightest, even as the upbeat and almost raucous beat started up from where Crewel had hit play on the radio, “Let’s dance.”

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[vey-myname]

[name]’s friends profiles!

masterlist | childe’s bffs

character descriptions:

[name]

sociology major freshie at zapolyarny university. originally from sumeru until her family decided to move to snezhnaya. she has already taken an interest in ballroom since she was a child as her mother used to be one of the renowned athletes in the expertise. her neighbor and childhood friend, alhaitham, used to be her dance partner for standard ballroom until she stopped training and competing to focus on her studies and a few arguments between her and her mother. the comments of nepotism took a toll on her confidence as she felt like she is only good because of her mother which also contributed to the cause of her 3 year long hiatus. she trained with a lot of her co-athletes from different places which she still keeps in touch with.

a person filled with self-doubt but is also aware of her capabilities, [name] is a type of person who still knows how to play along. sometimes people find her hard to read but enjoys her company nonetheless.

alhaitham

an anthropology major sophomore at the akademiya. [name]’s childhood friend and ex standard ballroom partner. he started doing ballroom out of curiosity, eventually taking a liking to it. it’s not obvious, but he is a big fan of [name]’s mother and trained under her before he and [name] started training in mondstadt. they spent most of their childhoods together, always bickering and celebrating their wins (even losses) together. and it may also not be obvious, but he cares for her too in his own alhaitham way. at the moment, he helps in instructing and coaching junior (12-16 years old) and youth (16-19 years old) division athletes in sumeru as he is taking a break from competing to focus on his research works.

aloof yet firm, he knows how to maneuver his way in teaching. a busy man who knows how to juggle all his responsibilities. alhaitham is not just known for his amazing skills in ballroom but also in being one of the star students of the akademiya.

kaveh

kaveh is also [name]’s neighbor and childhood friend from sumeru. they met when he was caught watching [name] and alhaitham practicing in [name]’s backyard. caught by who? none other than alhaitham. from there on, they became a trio where [name] and alhaitham became inspirations to kaveh to try ballroom as well. though he is not as active as the two in the dancesport scene, kaveh is often invited to perform in events especially those that are for a good cause which aligns with his principles.

he is currently a sophomore taking architecture at the akademiya. kaveh is the person [name] runs to whenever she feels down and is also the person she runs to when she wants to learn latin behind her mother’s back before. when [name] broke the news that she will be moving away, kaveh cried to her all night long until they both fell asleep in their treehouse.

kaeya

one of [name]’s seniors in mondstadt, along with his brother diluc, as well as her friend that she treasures. she learned a lot from him, especially in latin as [name]’s mother did not focus on that. she is very indebted to kaeya not just in dancing but also in showing her another perspective about the world. he treats [name] like his own sister, always looking out for her.

kaeya is one of mondstadt ballroom league’s dance instructor within the expertise of latin. he has devoted his time in coaching their athletes and is sometimes invited to become an adjudicator in national competitions. other than that, he helps around the community in mondstadt through donations and volunteer work. he may be goofy and silly most of the time but he sticks to his principles nevertheless, his actions always derived from a place of care.

diluc

one of [name]’s seniors and friends in mondstadt as well along with his brother kaeya. though publicly perceived as uptight, there is no denying that he is also a caring person. when [name] was feeling homesick with all the training in mondstadt, he tried learning how to make the cuisines of sumeru for her (some attempts terribly failing but hey, give his improvement some credits) to help alleviate it. sometimes, even if it’s not necessary, he tells [name] and alhaitham to take like a week break from training and return home until their next training schedule to which the two stubborn athletes try to decline but they fail anyway. to put it in simpler terms, diluc is like their brother figure in mondstadt. he was also one of [name]’s pillars in building her confidence in herself as a dancer.

just like his brother, diluc is also a dance instructor and coach under the mondstadt ballroom league, devoting his time as well in teaching and honing the skills of their city’s athletes. beyond him being a coach, diluc is a business owner of one of the most popular restaurant chain in the country of teyvat named the dawn food corporation.

jean

though a bit older than [name], jean has to be the biggest fan of [name] among all. she looks up to her so much and is often in disbelief that they are friends. jean was able to attend [name]’s mother’s workshops before too where she first met little [name] before she officially started training in jean’s city. she always knows what to tell [name] whenever she is filled with self-doubt and ensures to remind her that jean is always cheering for her no matter what.

jean is a person who feels very deeply and thus making her an empathetic person. but do not let her gentle nature fool you for she has made a name for herself in the dancesport scene for having a 6 year streak of being hailed as the champion in the nationals under standard ballroom. though she declined the invitation to be a coach in their city’s dancesport group, jean continues to train while learning fashion design on the sidelines.

chiori

chiori’s family and [name]’s family have been friends for decades as their mothers used to be childhood friends. they used to be playmates whenever they visit each other’s houses, often playing dress ups and whatnot. because of chiori’s skills in crafting clothes, her first ever work was worn by [name] for her first ever competition. ever since then, [name] became chiori’s model for her works and portfolio until [name] moved away. she knows about alhaitham and kaveh and have met them whenever she visits sumeru before. chiori has also tailored some of alhaitham’s suits and kaveh’s outfits for their respective performances. she has also met [name]’s other friends, and have also tailored a few pieces for them.

chiori is always present in all of [name]’s performances and competitions too. chiori is the person [name] runs to whenever she needs a slap of reality. they still meet up from time to time to share meals together and to catch up as chiori’s family moved to fontaine.

eula

eula is one of [name]’s co-athlete and co-trainee during her time in mondstadt. eula, jean, and [name] used to be the trio during that time and they really hung out a lot from girl nights to competitions. she is a graduating student from thousand winds university majoring in history, currently finishing her thesis. she is still active in competing, representing her university during intercollegiate competitions under standard ballroom.

aside from that, eula often travels from city to city for her major, sometimes even getting wind up in a few performances as she is also popular in their area of expertise. this led her to meet a lot of people during her academic expeditions, including beidou, that helped in knowing more about herself. that said, ever since she got the news that [name] had moved to snezhnaya, eula ensures to visit her from time to time to at least have a familiar face around [name] so she wouldn’t feel so lonely and scared in her new homeland.

beidou

[name] and beidou met during one of her competition held in liyue. their friendship started when beidou noticed [name] in the restroom panicking about her performance as she felt like it was lacking. despite being strangers, beidou assured her that she aced her performance and that even her girlfriend, ningguang, is amazed by her which was true. from there on, beidou became acquainted with [name]’s friends.

she usually hosts their get togethers and reunions every once in a while. though beidou does not compete like her girlfriend does, she is still well-versed in the world of ballroom, often taking the leader’s parts in both standard and latin to help ningguang practice her routines. she is known to be easy-going and lively by everyone around her and is loved by the people of liyue.

❀ author’s notes: i got way too excited publishing their profiles that i forgot to make their character descriptions… my bad 😓

˚₊· taglist: open~ send an ask or comment to be added! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ @kyon-cherri @tendo-shairdye

[star-anise]

Bit of a long-winded ask, but I'm in the process of trying to find a new mental health professional and one of the prospective ones specializes in person-centered therapy. It's not a process I'm super familiar with, and wanted the opinion of a professional; how likely is this to be effective in treating anxiety and obsessive compulsive tendencies? I'm already a deeply introspective person, and so I'm a bit skeptical about a technique that (to my uneducated perspective) is only reflecting my own thoughts albeit filtered through the perspective of another.

Any insight you might have would be greatly appreciated.

I can do that!

If you've been through counselling before, you know how much of a difference it makes to say stuff out loud, so that no matter how introspective you are, it always hits different to have another person in the room. So we're not discussing this approach vs no therapy, but vs other kinds of therapy.

Person-Centred Therapy (PCT, also known as Rogerian or Humanistic Therapy), is basically the foundation on which psychotherapy as I was taught it rests. You can get counsellors who didn't get Rogers as a base, especially in places like Europe or Latin America where Freudian techniques are still quite popular; but Carl Rogers is like the anti-Freud, someone about whom we are taught very little but of whom Tumblr would probably greatly approve.

So, before I get ahead of myself: The most important thing is whether you, individually, feel like the person who is counselling you is someone you can trust to really listen to you and take you seriously, and that you are in agreement about what your collective priorities are. The technical name for this is "therapeutic alliance" and absolutely nothing is as much of an influence on whether your therapy will succeed as that. Therapeutic style, number of degrees, or years of experience all bow at the feet of therapeutic alliance.

I realize that's not a the most useful thing to hear if you're looking at a web directory of counsellor profiles and trying to pick one. It's often something that needs to be tested out by actually meeting them, and that's a giant pain! I'm sorry about that. Many counsellors offer free initial consultations, which might help.

PCT is a bit of a wildcard because it's got a very very solid grounding in therapeutic alliance, but can vary a lot in actual content. Some therapies that have very rigid techniques and agendas can sometimes feel rough and impersonal, where your therapist seems to be audibly thinking as you talk, "Which worksheet should I cram this one onto?" On the other hand, you have more certainty that they will probably hand you one. PCT relies a lot more on what you bring to the table—Are you a worksheet kind of person? Do you use worksheets to hide from your feelings? What would be better? Frankly, being introspective means this might be a better approach for you than others; the biggest failing of PCT is when clients don't have enough ideas, tools, or insight to spot problems and generate possible solutions, so they need more tangible forms of advice or instruction.

But to address the biggest question: No, the counselling process isn't just your therapist parroting your own words back at you all the time. It's a lot more complicated than that.

Being good at PCT rests on a tripod of three things: Warmth, empathy, and genuineness. They form a complicated dance depending on what's needed at the time. Empathy is just being able to accurately understand and state what another person is feeling; you need the warmth that says someone gives a shit about you and thinks you're okay. Warmth and empathy on their own are often just bullshit without the genuineness that provides honesty and discernment.

That warmth, empathy, and genuineness can include expressing different thoughts and opinions from yours, bringing up contradictions from experience or education, or emotionally reacting to what you've said. Unconditional positive regard (another PCT touchstone) doesn't mean uncritically approving of everything you say and do, but rather, having faith if you're treated in a positive manner, without being shamed, blamed, or punished, you'll work to get better than where you are now.

I hope that's enough of an answer to help. Trust your own instincts when it comes to the person themselves. Good luck!

[tokuvivor]

For a character dynamic, could I please choose Launchpad and José?

You absolutely can! Very interesting idea! I’ve never written José before, so just bear with me.

And I know we said no anons, but the idea is just too good to pass up!

I give you…

Dança, Dança

Originated from this post.

José and Panchito had been enjoying their visit to the United States to spend time with Donald. Given Donald’s family, there was never a dull moment abound with the Three Caballeros reunited.

One morning, José woke up to his phone ringing. He answered it.

“Alô?”

“Uh, is this José Carioca?” came the voice on the other end of the line.

“Sim, this is José. Who might this be?”

“Uh, Launchpad McQuack.”

“Ah! Launchpad! How are you doing?”

“Well, to be honest, José, I’m in a bit of a pickle right now,” Launchpad admitted. “Drake’s birthday is coming up, and I want to surprise him. So I’ve decided to take him to a dance club.”

“Ooooh!” José gawked. “Very fine choice.”

“The only problem is,” Launchpad continued, “I’m not that good of a dancer. Mr. D said you were, though, so that’s why I’m coming to you.”

“Ahhhh, you’ve come to the right man,” assured José. “Fear not, meu amigo. I shall help you out for your gentleman friend.”

Launchpad sighed in relief. “Perfect. Thanks, José. You’re a lifesaver.” And the two men hung up.

José booked a studio for himself and Launchpad. He advised Launchpad to wear some kind of workout gear, because, as he advised Launchpad, “Dancing is a workout in and of itself.”

“Launchpad! Good, you’re here,” José exclaimed when Launchpad arrived. “So, shall we begin?”

Launchpad raised an eyebrow at the parrot. “Uh, wouldn’t it probably be helpful to stretch first? Prevents injury.”

“Sim, of course. I apologize, I usually just jump right into dancing, especially when I’m just, uhhhh, shall I say, feeling it,” explained José.

So the two men did some basic stretching, and then they were ready to begin.

“Okay, let’s see,” José began. “What is your level of dance experience?”

“Honestly, not that good,” Launchpad admitted. “Besides what basically constitutes as novelty dances, like the Macarena. Drake loves dancing, and he wants to be as good as those dancers he sees on TV. Or football players; I sometimes get the two confused with how good the celebrities can be.”

José tapped his chin. “I see,” he commented. “Well, we can work with this. You are a lump of clay, and I am the sculptor, ready to shape you into a Latin god.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say god…” Launchpad replied, blushing a bit.

“I think I know what I can do here,” José explained. “I am going to teach you the Brazilian carnival dance, the samba.”

“Okay,” remarked Launchpad. “I certainly know of it decently well. How exactly does it work?”

“So,” began José, “we start out standing with the legs together.”

“Legs together,” Launchpad repeated, following José’s lead.

“Put the right leg back, and bounce for two beats,” instructed José. “Make sure to put your weight back on the rear leg. Like this. One, two.”

“One, two,” Launchpad followed.

“Stand up straighter,” advised José. “Keep your core strong. Just like that. Bom.”

“Okayyy,” Launchpad responded, trailing off. “What’s next? The other leg?”

“Yes,” confirmed José. “Left leg back, bounce for two beats. Try it. One, two.”

“One, two.”

“Good,” complimented José. “Now try a few sets in a row, alternating between legs. Right leg back, and…one, two. One, two. One, two. One, two.”

Launchpad worked through four pairs of bounces, alternating between legs. Since his upper body was so broad, he wobbled a little bit on his transitions. He noticed that when José was demonstrating, he had his hands on his hips, so he tried that himself.

“Magnífico!” exclaimed José. “Just keep the balance, and you cannot go wrong. Now let us try moving our arms with our legs.”

Launchpad gulped. He had just gotten the hang of keeping us balance on his leg transitions. How was he going to do this?

“When you step back on the right leg, you bend the right arm,” José advised. “And stepping back on the left leg means the left arm is bent. The arms come forward from a straightened position to a bent position, and are rotated back into straight. Like this.” He demonstrated to Launchpad what he meant. “Notice how my arms are not like windmills, and that I am keeping the upper arms level.”

Launchpad nodded. Maybe that would help him maintain his balance somewhat!

“So we double bounce, just to work into the arm movement,” continued José. “One…two…three…four. Aaaaand arms.” He looked over at Launchpad. “Not bad. Speed the arms up a little. Let’s just work it up gradually.”

So the two went through a few rounds of bounces and arm movements, until Launchpad was able to get down the quicker speed.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” Launchpad remarked. “How did it look for you?”

“I would say you had it down very well,” said José.

“Okay, good,” Launchpad replied. “I noticed something, though. Are there, like, different kinds of samba?”

“Mm?” José questioned.

“Like, between this kind of samba here, and the kind Drake and I’ve seen on TV before.”

“Ohhhhh,” replied José. “That kind would be the ballroom samba. Fairly different, and it relies more on the harmony between two partners.”

“Okay,” acknowledged Launchpad. “From what I’ve seen of it, it looks kinda complicated, but the steps are fairly recognizable, so that you know what to look for in it.”

“Yes, and the samba is certainly one of the hardest dances to get right,” commented José. “Now, let us put our moves to the music.”

He clicked on the stereo, and a man began to sing in Portuguese, “Vem Magalenha rojão, traz a lenha pro fogão, vem fazer armação…”

José counted out the beats, and he and Launchpad worked through the repetitive movements.

At one point during the song, José broke from the bounces and proclaimed, “Okay, now move your hips!”

“Huh?” Launchpad questioned.

“Like this.” And José put both of his arms out, wiggling his hips and shoulders at the same time. “Now you.”

Launchpad repeated the movement. It felt good.

“Sim! And back to the base movement.”

The two made it through the home stretch of the song firing on all cylinders. Launchpad was relieved to have finished it out, but he was also happy that he could do it.

“And we have reached the end of our journey,” José said sagely. “Now you can go out and show Drake what you have learned.”

“Wow,” breathed Launchpad. “Launchpad McQuack, samba dancer. I like it. Anyway, thanks again for the lesson, José.”

“Any time, meu amigo,” answered José. “Let me know how it all turns out.”

“I will!” And Launchpad headed back out into the world. He may have been a big guy, but now he was a big guy that could dance, at least a bit.

Author’s note: The song that Launchpad and José are dancing to is “Magalenha”, by Sérgio Mendes.

[dwampyverse-tournaments]

I was starting to write a mini essay about why I love “Carpe Diem” so much and realized I could do the same for basically every Phineas and Ferb song. Anyway here’s what I wrote about Carpe Diem.

I mean, first of all, seize the day is unequivocally the entire theme of Phineas and Ferb. The song is a direct instruction to the audience: “go out and do something awesome. Seize the day.” I love love love Summer Belongs to You (it’s my favorite pnf song) but Carpe Diem makes a similar point but better, in a way.

Carpe Diem is also, in my opinion, a little simpler in the melody and lyrics, which makes it easier to memorize, especially for kids. Also, the shift halfway through (I think key shift is the proper term but I’m not a music nerd except for when it comes to Dwampyverse music) is SO GOOD. It escalates the song so much so quickly and takes it from cute to awesome in a second.

Latin is cool.

I loved the phrase Carpe Diem (because of this song) so much as a little kid that my mom made me a necklace with “Carpe Diem” on it that I wear to this day.

Finally, Carpe Diem has so much forward facing Phineas. He keeps turning side to side to dance and he’s facing forward like 30 times.

[catdemontraphouse]

Note: referenced a post by @thedarkestcrow several times which I think is a really interesting one. Can’t seem to paste in the link🤨🙄 it was an ask answer about Sebastian’s contract

Hey also if anyone can tell me how to do “read more”on mobile… please tell me 😂🤦‍♀️

Just some character uh, idk analysis/hypothesis??

The more I think about it, the more I reckon Sebastian’s problem is that he has an unfortunate mother hen syndrome which he either isn’t fully aware of OR, more likely, is aware of but actively tries to deny. This is of course going off the assumption there is no governing body for demons like there is for reapers since we’ve never seen anything like that? And that Sebastian’s contract is something he made up for himself with no actual consequences outside his own judgement.

Sebastian goes above and beyond to critique and perfect the conduct of other people who are under his authority. His contract (which I won’t even get into atm lol) only states the following stipulations as far as I recall:

Yet he goes out of his way to not just keep OCiel alive but to rear him as he sees fit. He tries to feed him balanced meals and regulate his sugar intake, he demands the child brush his teeth well, instructs him diligently in various academic subjects etc.

Some of this you could argue is for the sake of the mission, i.e. making OCiel as versatile and cultured as possible in order to maintain social connections necessary for revenge. But I kind of have to wonder, is it even necessary? Like is that degree of adhering to societal expectations really required to reach the end goal? I mean maybe I’m wrong here but I feel like there’s other cheaper, quicker ways they could investigate who’s behind the cult than making alliances with other nobility and whatnot. 🤷‍♀️ Sebastian seems to spend more time teaching OCiel dancing or Latin than bloodily interrogating suspicious people who might be connected to the cult.

Same could be said for how Sebastian treats the servants. He praises them when they manage to or at least make good efforts at upholding high standards of etiquette and efficiency in their roles as housekeepers, even though he knows that isn’t really what they’re useful for. They were hired to be bodyguards in essence. I get that they want housekeepers around to make it look “normal” so people won’t question the Phantomhive household but I just find Sebastian’s dedication to molding them into proper servants a little more intense than is probably necessary? Could be he is just tired of doing everything alone but also this guy built a wholeass mansion in a night alone with magic. He could magically clean the whole house alone if he really wanted to, probably? Or maybe he’s running low on MP from not eating lol. Idk I’m just saying he seems to almost enjoy being a teacher even if his students piss him off.

He tells Will he’s “tired of messily sampling every dish available to him” and how that’s his reason for basically starving himself. I guess it would be like… idk a farmer raising a single giant pumpkin and waiting to eat that instead of growing lots of crops and eating regularly? An obsession with cultivation at the expense of well-being.

At one point the reaper says this about Sebastian compared to other demons:

This suggest you don’t *need* to make a contract to eat a soul, which would mean Sebastian’s suffering is self-inflicted. Because he’s obsessed with rearing and tending to things.

He says he enjoys “playing butler” and what that behavior translates to in Sebastian’s day-to-day life is essentially being a care giver. He enjoys raising and caring for things weaker than himself.

We see a similar behavior when it comes to cats. The main difference here I think is that cats dont seem to be considered demon food as far as we can tell. He doesn’t ever try to write off or hide his love of cats. Keep that in mind for later.

He also mentions that there are pets in his world but he basically indicates that he finds them ugly and unappealing. So having affection for other beings doesn’t seem to be an unusual thing for his species per say? It’s just what they find cute is very different from Sebastian.

There is no discussion of the demonic world other than this, Sebastian never returns there or mentions having friends or something akin to family there etc. He never spends time with other demons in the manga canon even though this panel kind of implies they have some sort of world or society? He seems oddly divorced from his own kind, doesn’t he? Or is that just me that thinks so idk

I think ultimately Sebastian finds what is, for his own kind, considered probably ugly and stupid livestock somehow endearing and cannot really cope with that. He is probably considered weird or creepy by members of his own species, and while he’s aptly aware of that he can’t help but be amused by humans and want to impress them. He doesn’t just fulfill the contract he goes out of his way to do it in a fashion that makes humans go “oh wow.” It’s not for the sake of impressing other demons!! They’re not watching. He doesn’t associate with other demons, ever. Only reapers, who I might add were once human dunno if that matters tho. He wants humans to *like him* he goes out of his way to charm humans that will do nothing for him except satiate his own ego and attention span.

But he eats them to survive. And also as a demon, he isn’t supposed to grow attached to humans. So he’s battling with this cognitive dissonance constantly, I theorize. Like he kills and eats people but at the same time, he likes raising them like pets? He loves teaching them things and is proud when he cultivates a human that really stands out among other humans. I have reason to believe he is an outcast in his own society and part of him is pained by that? Idk it’s all speculation but I’m fuckin autistic and stuff so I have to write essays about it.

I can’t find the damn video but there was this one VA live reading of a hypothetical scene where OCiel is dead after Sebastian ate him and he’s still going thru the motions of celebrating the kids birthday like… WTF? This man ate his pet and realized it was a mistake major wtf moment

Sebastian is like one of those Karens that breeds exotic cats and gets competitive at CFA shows…my human is a prime specimen give me an award

[top-the-cat]

Next lot...

I know the B15 Project as a Birmingham based dance music crew from the late 90's so had hopes for a decent remix out of the three on here. But no, they were all shit. Like really, really shit. Couldn't even finish it. Next record please.

Pretty Woman by PB featuring MY

You could imagine your grandad sitting in chair with a pipe (or in my grandads case, a pack of Woodbines) conducting along to this collection of big band war movie themes. You'll recognise half of them from adverts and just general cultural association, even if you haven't seen the old movies they are all from. To be honest, apart from one, i skipped through them all just to see if they were any good and yeah, they're not really. Except of course, Where Eagles Dare. Now that's a fucking tune! It's almost like the music in the Conan movies; dark, moody, atmospheric, right fucking up there!

Big War Movie Themes by Geoff Love and his Orchestra

Do you remember PM Dawn? Had that one song in the earlyish 90s, Set Adrift on Memory Bliss, with the Spandau Ballet riff on it? Yeah, it was a tune in it's day but i don't ever remember fuck all else from them. Gave it a go as i quite like that chilled beat sound and figured the remixes might be alright and to be fair, it kinda was. Chilled, dubby, almost spiritual hip hop. One of the remixes is a 120bpm breakbeat roller dub and yeah, i was more than happy with this. Not overly memorable, but yeah, happy.

A Watchers Point of View by PM Dawn.

This was the first thing that caught my eye in the record bucket at the reclaimers yard and it is exactly the sort of thing i wanted; latin lounge jazz covers of late 60s pop hits like Way To Amarillo, Not Unusual, and a few others that you recognise but can't really place. The perfect soundtrack to play out in my tiki bar! And for a quid too - Bargain all round!!

Superlatin Lupersatin by Carlos Romanos

Now this is a proper diggers find, old BBC style instructional record with some old chap explaining high fidelity, how to balance your speakers, frequency tones, and covers of various styles of music from big band, to jazz, funk, soul and rock & roll, with instructional voice overs in between. Everytime he says "high fidelity" or "solid stereo" or something about "make sure your stylus is kept clean and placed at the opening groove of the record" in his plumby old british accent, i can place it in a bunch of old Ninja Tune and 90s sample heavy hip-hop and trip-hop breaks.

Oh yeah, the cover of Shaft is just a stone cold, rare groove classic!

Popular Guide To Stereo by Popular Hi-Fi

[santropez11]

Dance classes in Montreal | San Tropez Latin Dance School

San Tropez Latin Dance School: Bringing Passion and Energy to Montreal

Located in the vibrant city of Montreal, San Tropez Latin Dance School is a premier destination for individuals who want to learn and master the art of Latin dancing. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced dancer, San Tropez offers a wide range of classes and programs that cater to all levels of dancers, making it the perfect place to discover your passion for Latin dance.

At San Tropez, the focus is on providing a fun and engaging environment where students can feel comfortable learning and growing as dancers. The school's team of experienced and highly skilled instructors is passionate about teaching Latin dance and strives to create a supportive and welcoming atmosphere for all students.

One of the things that sets San Tropez apart is its commitment to offering a diverse range of dance styles, including salsa, bachata, merengue, cha-cha, and more. With a focus on both traditional and modern styles of Latin dance, students have the opportunity to explore a variety of rhythms and techniques, helping them to develop a well-rounded dance repertoire.

In addition to regular classes and workshops, San Tropez also hosts a range of events and performances throughout the year, providing students with the opportunity to showcase their skills and connect with other dancers in the community. From social dances to competitions and festivals, there is always something exciting happening at San Tropez.

For those who are looking to take their dance skills to the next level, San Tropez also offers private lessons and personalized coaching. Whether you want to perfect your technique, prepare for a competition, or simply get some one-on-one guidance from a skilled instructor, private lessons are a great way to accelerate your progress and achieve your dance goals.

In conclusion, San Tropez Latin Dance School is a must-visit destination for anyone who is passionate about Latin dance. With its commitment to providing high-quality instruction, diverse range of dance styles, and welcoming community of dancers, San Tropez is the perfect place to discover your love for Latin dance and take your skills to the next level. Whether you are a seasoned dancer or just starting out, San Tropez is the ideal place to explore your passion for Latin dance in the vibrant city of Montreal.