#Fitness Class in Miami

[v3perform]

V3P's Ultimate 50-Minute Workout: Fitness Classes for Every Fitness Level | V3Perform

Did you know that an hour is equivalent to about 4% of your day? Imagine spending that time on fitness and exercise once a day. At V3Perform, we provide fitness classes applicable to any level of fitness through V3P's Ultimate 50-minute workout!

From as early as 6am to as late as 8pm, our expert trainers at V3P will be glad to welcome you home for an hour of fun, fitness and exercise that will get you burning body fat in no time! At V3Perform, our goal is to host a roster of personal training in Miami Shores bringing the public fitness that pushes our clients to peak physical condition through fun and effective classes such as Boot Camp, Cardio Boxing, and Strength Training.

Strength Training Functional Strength Training in a small group setting. You will be challenged and coached for each and every workout. We promise you will train body parts that you didn’t know you had.

Boot Camp Build and Sculpt your body all while experiencing an amazing cardio workout. You might box, use dumbbells, resistance bands, your own body weight, run on a self propelled treadmill, row, skierg, versaclimb and even bike during these incredibly fun classes.

Cardio Boxing Boxing inspired classes on our tear shaped water filled punching bags. These bags protect your hands, knuckles, wrists, elbows and shoulders.

Whether your goal is to achieve your ideal weight or build a stronger physique, our experienced trainers at V3Perform will help you achieve them! With our combo of cardio and strength training, V3P’s Ultimate classes offer a mix of weight and movement that are fun and will have you sweating so you get shredded to the core – literally. So whether you are a beginner or not, rest assured that the V3P trainers will help you achieve your fitness goals, while ensuring you stay healthy in the process.

Drop by the V3P gym today and find out why V3Perform is the best gym in Miami Shores to sculpt the body, cutting and carving out the physique you desire through an exhilarating cardiovascular workout training.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

American education has all the downsides of standardization, none of the upsides

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

We moved to America in 2015, in time for my kid to start third grade. Now she's a year away from graduating high school (!) and I've had a front-row seat for the US K-12 system in a district rated as one of the best in the country. There were ups and downs, but high school has been a monster.

We're a decade and a half into the "common core" experiment in educational standardization. The majority of the country has now signed up to a standardized and rigid curriculum that treats overworked teachers as untrustworthy slackers who need to be disciplined by measuring their output through standard lessons and evaluations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core

This system is rigid enough, but it gets even worse at the secondary level, especially when combined with the Advanced Placement (AP) courses, which adds another layer of inflexible benchmarks to the highest-stakes, most anxiety-provoking classes in the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Placement

It is a system singularly lacking in grace. Ironically, this unforgiving system was sold as a way of correcting the injustice at the heart of the US public education system, which funds schools based on local taxation. That means that rich neighborhoods have better funded schools. Rather than equalizing public educational funding, the standardizers promised to ensure the quality of instruction at the worst-funded schools by measuring the educational outcomes with standard tools.

But the joke's on the middle-class families who backed standardized instruction over standardized funding. Their own kids need slack as much as anyone's, and a system that promises to put the nation's kids through the same benchmarks on the same timetable is bad for everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/28/give-me-slack-2/

Undoing this is above my pay-grade. I've already got more causes to crusade on than I have time for. But there is a piece of tantalyzingly low-hanging fruit that is dangling right there, and even though I'm not gonna pick it, I can't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write about it and hope I can lazyweb it into existence.

The thing is, there's a reason that standardization takes hold in so many domains. Agreeing on a common standard enables collaboration by many entities without any need for explicit agreements or coordination. The existence of the ANSI/SAE J563 standard automobile auxiliary power outlet (AKA "car cigarette lighter") didn't just allow many manufacturers to make replacement lighter plugs. The existence of a standardized receptacle delivering standardized voltage to standardized contacts let all kinds of gadgets be designed to fit in that socket.

Standards crystallize the space of all possible ways of solving a problem into a range of solutions. This inevitably has a downside, because the standardized range might not be optimal for all applications. Think of the EU's requirement for USB-C charger tips on all devices. There's a lot of reasons that manufacturers prefer different charger tips for different gadgets. Some of those reasons are bad (gouging you on replacement chargers), but some are good (unique form-factor, specific smart-charging needs). USB-C is a very flexible standard (indeed, it's so flexible that some people complain that it's not a standard at all!) but there are some applications where the optimal solution is outside its parameters.

And still, I think that the standardization on USB-C is a force for good. I have drawers full of gadgets that need proprietary charger tips, and other drawers full of chargers with proprietary tips, and damned if I can make half of them match up. We've continued our pandemic lockdown tradition of my wife cutting my hair in the back yard, and just tracking the three different charger tips for the three clippers she uses is an ongoing source of frustration. I'd happily trade slightly sub-optimal charging for just being able to plug any of those clippers into the same cable I charge my headphones, phone, tablet and laptop on.

The standardization of American education has produced all the downsides of standardization – a rigid, often suboptimal, one-size-fits-all system – without the benefits. With teachers across America teaching in lockstep, often from the same set texts (especially in the AP courses), there's a massive opportunity for a commons to go with the common core.

For example, the AP English and History classes my kid takes use standard texts that are often centuries old and hard to puzzle out. I watched my kid struggle with texts for learning about "persuasive rhetoric" like 17th century pamphlets that inspired anti-indigenous pogroms with fictional accounts of "Indian atrocities."

It's good for American schoolkids to learn about the use of these blood libels to excuse genocide, but these pamphlets are a slog. Even with glossaries in the textbooks, it's a slow, word-by-word matter to parse these out. I can't imagine anyone learning a single thing about how speech persuades people just by reading that text.

But there's nothing in the standardized curriculum that prevents teachers from adding more texts to the unit. We live in an unfortunate golden age for persuasive texts that inspire terrible deeds – for example, kids could also read core Pizzagate texts and connect the guy who shot up the pizza parlor to the racists who formed a 17th century lynchmob.

But teachers are incredibly time-constrained. For one thing, at least a third of the AP classroom time seems to be taken up with detailed instructions for writing stilted, stylized "essays" for the AP tests (these are terrible writing, but they're easy to grade in a standardized way).

That's where standardization could actually deliver some benefits. If just one teacher could produce some supplemental materials and accompanying curriculum, the existence of standards means that every other teacher could use it. What's more, any adaptations that teachers make to that unit to make them suited to their kids would also work for the other teachers in the USA. And because the instruction is so rigidly standardized, all of these materials could be keyed to metadata that precisely identified the units they belonged to.

The closest thing we have to this are "marketplaces" where teachers can sell each other their supplementary materials. As far as I can tell, the only people making real money from these marketplaces are the grifters who built them and convinced teachers to paywall the instructional materials that could otherwise form a commons.

Like I said, I've got a completely overfull plate, but if I found myself at loose ends, trying to find a project to devote the rest of my life to, I'd be pitching funders on building a national, open access portal to build an educational commons.

It may be a lot to expect teachers to master the intricacies of peer-based co-production tools like Git, but there's already a system like this that K-8 teachers across the country have mastered: Scratch. Scratch is a graphic programming environment for kids, and starting with 2019's Scratch 3.0, the primary way to access it is via an in-browser version that's hosted at scratch.mit.edu.

Scratch's online version is basically a kid- (and teacher-)friendly version of Github. Find a project you like, make a copy in your own workspace, and then mod it to suit your own needs. The system keeps track of the lineage of different projects and makes it easy for Scratch users to find, adapt, and share their own projects. The wild popularity of this system tells us that this model for a managed digital commons for an educational audience is eminently achievable.

So when students are being asked to study the rhythm of text by counting the numbers of words in the sentences of important speeches, they could supplement that very boring exercise by listening to and analyzing contemporary election speeches, or rap lyrics, or viral influencer videos. Different teachers could fork these units to swap in locally appropriate comparitors – and so could students!

Students could be given extra credit for identifying additional materials that slot into existing curricular projects – Tiktok videos, new chart-topping songs, passages from hot YA novels. These, too, could go into the commons.

This would enlist students in developing and thinking critically about their curriculum, whereas today, these activities are often off-limits to students. For example, my kid's math teachers don't hand back their quizzes after they're graded. The teachers only have one set of quizzes per unit, and letting the kids hold onto them would leak an answer-key for the next batch of test-takers.

I can't imagine learning math this way. "You got three questions wrong but I won't let you see them" is no way to help a student focus on the right areas to improve their understanding.

But there's no reason that math teachers in a commons built around the (unfortunately) rigid procession of concepts and testing couldn't generate procedural quizzes, specified with a simple programming language. These tests could even be automatically graded, and produce classroom stats on which concepts the whole class is struggling with. Each quiz would be different, but cover the same ground.

When I help my kid with her homework, we often find disorganized and scattered elements of this system – a teacher might post extensive notes on teaching a specific unit. A publisher might produce a classroom guide that connects a book to specific parts of the common core. But these are scattered across the web, and they aren't keyed to the specific, standard components of common core and AP.

This is a standardized system that is all costs, no benefits. It has no "architecture of participation" that lets teachers, students, parents, practitioners and even commercial publishers collaborate to produce a commons that all may share and improve upon.

In an ideal world, we'd get rid of standardization in education, pay teachers well, give them the additional time they needed to prepare exciting and relevant curriculum, and fund all our schools based on need, not parents' income.

But in the meanwhile, we could be making lemonade of out lemons. If we're going to have standardization, we should at least have the collaboration standards enable.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/16/flexibility-in-the-margins/#a-commons

[octuscle]

Fiesta de fin de año en Miami

Henry was actually just annoyed. He had been looking forward to a few quiet days in South Beach. To escape the damp cold of Chicago. Walks on the beach, excellent dinners under the stars, plenty of time to read the books he'd received for Christmas. But even checking in for the flight to Miami was hell. Everything was full of loud and undisciplined Latinos. Not just the have-nots in the queue for economy class. Also at check-in for Business Class. And he was envious to see that even in First Class, people who looked like members of a Latino boy band were checking in. This is going to be fun, Herny thought agonizedly. Especially when he was greeted in Spanish when he handed over his suitcase in his own country. Damn Latinos!

In the lounge, Henry grumbles loudly to himself while waiting for boarding. That all the tanned, half-naked guys here probably earned the money for the plane tickets as drug mules or gigolos. One of the few respectable-looking passengers sits down next to him, puts a Cuba Libre on his cocktail table. And says to him "¡Disfrute de la bebida y relájese! ¿Cuánta experiencia tienes como mula de la droga y gigoló?" Henry looks at him questioningly, the gentleman smiles and toasts Henry.

When the flight is called, Henry is a little drunk. Hehehe, these lounges are really cool. He wonders how he actually got in there. And he is envious of the passengers who fly business class and regularly enjoy this luxury. The queue for Economy Class feels like it's dos kilómetros long. Thank goodness Enry only has his small rucksack with him as hand luggage. He'll manage to squeeze it into the overhead compartment somehow. The ground crew guy is muy caliente. Enry smiles at him. He smiles back. Too bad, he would have been grateful if the cutie had done the in-flight service right away. But Enri is lucky: in his middle seat, he is squeezed between two hermanos with whom he can certainly have fun. The man in the window seat has smuggled a bottle of rum on board. His neighbor in the aisle seat can't fit anything into his compression pants except for his huge-looking boner. The three of them start talking about soccer. The guy in the window is visiting his family for New Year's Eve. The guy in the aisle seat, like Enriq, is simply on his way to Miami to celebrate. Damn, he can hardly concentrate, his bump looks so painful. Enriq climbs over him, rubbing his boner noticeably against his neighbor's and says that he urgently needs to go to the bathroom.

Enrique just manages to post a photo on Instagram. The caption is ¿Has follado alguna vez en el baño de un avión? Estoy listo". Then the door opens. ¡Divertíos, chicos!

Inspiración a través de @curioustoseewhatsup, foto encontrada @marechais

[temptress-writes]

🦊 Lucky Fox

A/N: Groovy seventies Harry. Part two of Disco Snow

C.W: DRUG USE (weed). Sexual content: spit kink, breeding kink, dum/dom play (subrry), spanking, squirting, anal play, bondage, choking.

Word count—10.2k.

Enjoy x

***

“I’m fumin’, little fox.”

The cord of your telephone is tangled in a perfect spiral around your index finger, your back pressed against the wall beside where the cradle hangs. You try to stifle the giggle that ensues his competitive aggression on the other end of the phone.

“It’s just a game, Harry.”

“Just a game? Right and Waffelos is just cereal, not a heavenly maple orgasm in the mouth.”

You laugh harder at his dramatic claim. It’s something you love about him. He puts his full heart into everything. Whether it’s a particularly tight parallel parking spot, a really bad joke, or a heavy debate on which cereal is the best. And mostly? You.

Well. You, and currently, Space Invaders.

“I’m not kidding around. I dialed you for reinforcements. Get your perky little ass down here.”

And with that, he hangs up. This is a reoccurring thing for the two of you. Harry tries to beat his highest score down at the arcade but swears he needs his little fox at his side for good luck. You're more than happy to oblige, often massaging his tense shoulders, offering sips of a milkshake through a straw before giving him a peck on his raspberry lips.

Ever since that night at the Hall of Mirrors, you and Harry have been inseparable. More discos, even more nights in his sheets. Months and months of dance battles in your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, months of reading poetry laid out in a park, his head tucked into your lap as you recite lines.

He is everything you adore in a person; warm, charismatic, shameless. He’s taught you a lot about being true to yourself. You often find yourself trying to be a people pleaser. To fit into a label of what makes you a person.

But Harry is a different class of human. Unhinged and unapologetic. Soulful and selfless. Of course, the man who wore bubblegum flares when you first met him would be the one you’d give your heart to. Really, his existence is one of a dream-like mirage. But he’s so real, and all yours.

Due to Harry’s more than electric dressing sense, he’s usually hauling you down to the mall in his yellow Dodge Charger. Grabbing items from racks and making you try them all on. Telling you twirl and show it off. He swears you suit everything and is quick to buy whatever you like. His favourite thing to spoil you with is lingerie, buying you dreamy underwear that he can rip apart with his teeth before tasting you.

One of your most recent purchases, courtesy of Harry’s taste, is a pair of gold sequin pants. You shimmy them up your legs, throwing on your white blouse and your white platform shoes. You leave your hair natural, not tying it up like you usually do because you know how much Harry enjoys playing with the loose strands.

Seated at your vanity, you apply a frosty green eyeshadow to your eyelid and use your cake liner to define your eyes with black along your lash line. With some coats of mascara and a wash of lip gloss, you grab your jacket and purse and head down to the arcade.

The sun is setting, melting into the skyline of Miami with warm caramel and fluffy candy-floss clouds that become burnt violet as the sun nears the horizon.

The Score. An arcade and bowling alley that evolves into a buzzing bar every night. Being a new establishment, it's a hot spot that offers everything. Entertainment, dancing, drinking, and the best hotdogs Harry says he’s ever tasted.

You pass the payphone where Harry called you from, skirting around the corner and bump straight into him.

He’s smiling brightly and you take a second to appreciate how fucking good he looks. You’re glad you put in the effort to match his style, always so impressed with his fits. This one might be one of your favourites.

The first thing you notice is the brown fur coat draped over his broad shoulders. It’s luxurious and warm and makes you want to cuddle him even more. Underneath is a yellow graphic t-shirt with his favourite orange stained sunglasses hung on the neck of it. His legs are nestled in a pair of blue flared jeans, his feet donning a pair of gold boots.

He makes a little whiney noise and cups your face in his jeweled fingers, leaving soft and delicate kisses to your lips and the tip of your nose. He pulls back to smile, his dimples and little crinkles by his eyes indented with the force.

“Hi, how high are you? Wait no, how are you h- I’m high as shit.”

You laugh, pressing your face into his neck and feeling his warmth. “Pothead. Did you smoke without me?”

He narrows his eyes at your pouted lips, flicking them with his finger. “Aw, feeling left out?”

“No.” You grumble playfully.

He chuckles, looking around before pulling you down the alley next to The Score. He fumbles around his jacket pocket, producing a half-smoked blunt and his lighter.

“Pucker up, baby.”

You giggle, allowing him to place the blunt between your pursed lips. He lights it, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand. You suck in deeply while Harry keeps watch. The smoke fills your lungs before it leaves your body in a plume. Harry grips your chin, sucking the smoke from your pouted lips.

Your lips meet in a heated kiss, the blunt quickly forgotten as he scoops you closer in his arms. He pressed you against the wall, tangling his hands in your hand and sucking on your tongue.

“Left your hair down for me, pretty girl. Know how much I like to pull it, don’t you?”

You sigh against him, your hands gripping his ass to pull him flush against you. He shamelessly grinds his crotch against you, kissing you deeply. You love his kisses. How much heavy meaning and adoration lies behind them.

He tugs your hair once more before growling and pulling away. He throws you a wink and breathes out a puff of air to calm himself down. He’s often telling you how much he struggles to keep his hands off you and today is no different.

He’ll never pass up an opportunity to have his hands on you, especially in those gold pants of yours.

But he’s also aware that you’re both stood in an alley with a dying blunt when you could be inside, getting settled into some entertainment for the night. He loves spending time with you like this. Having a smoke, maybe a drink or two. Getting silly and teasing each other. He can’t fucking wait.

He grips your wrist as you bring the joint up to your lips. You raise your brow. “What?”

“You take another hit and you’ll be catching some Z’s before I can get you a drink.”

“You're not wrong.”

He knows you so well, and you allow him to take the joint from your fingers and finish it. He flicks the butt to the ground, crunching it under the toe of his golden boot. He grips your hip, tugging on your pants and clicking his tongue.

“Look at us being all cute and shit. Matching, eh? Golden couple.”

Your hands bury themselves into his fur coat. “I love the coat.”

“Yeah? Don’t sweat it- it’s faux. No little foxes were harmed.”

He hooks his arm around your neck, pulling you from the alleyway and towards the arcade. You feel warm and fuzzy from both him and the joint. The night that stretches ahead of you makes you yearn for more of him. You can’t ever get enough of each other. Any second he can be showing you how much he appreciates you, he is.

“Let’s go buzz some extraterrestrials, yo!” He yells and you duck your head as people stare at him.

With two vodka slushies in hand, the two of you head over to the Space Invaders machine and you’re surprised there are no indents in the carpet from where he’s been standing most of today.

Harry’s excited, you can tell. He’s such a competitive person and as of late, his rival has been himself. Falling ever so slightly short to beat his own high score. You look at the leader board and it seems there is someone attempting to take his throne, creeping into 3rd place. You snort at the name he’s given himself.

SPACE INVADERS

HIGH SCORES

1st   DADDY 435945

2nd   DADDY 421890

3rd   TB 337300

“Daddy? Please tell me that’s not you.”

Harry drops his jaw. “I- hang on, say it again. I like it.”

You pull him close, taking a sip of your vodka slushy and he does the same, wriggling his brows to egg you on. You’re both on a different level to the rest of the arcade, high off the joint and each other, buzzing off the vodka slushies.

“What, you wanna be my daddy?”

“Cheeky thing. I am your daddy.”

You bump your hip against his, tutting your tongue. Harry laughs at the flush in your cheeks before taking a long sip of his slushy. He hands it to you for safekeeping, poking his tongue out at you, tinged red from his drink. You poke your tongue out and he gasps at the bright blue stain.

“Blue tongued fox!”

You snort. “Sounds like an endangered species.”

“You’re one of a kind, my girl.” He leaves a kiss on your forehead and then your nose. He’s so soft and constantly being so affectionate with you. He winks. “Right, let’s send these ET fuckers home.”

After removing his coat and placing it on your shoulders, he turns to the gaming machine in front of him. He claps a couple of times and then rubs his hands together, psyching himself up for the task ahead.

He stretches out his neck, cracking his knuckles and you know he means business. He starts up the game, the little theme playing out that he hums along to.

Innocently sipping your slushy and then his, you place them on the bench beside you. You move to stand behind him, pressing your chest flat against his back. You can feel the warmth radiating from beneath his yellow t-shirt, his back expanding on a breath as he feels your tits against him.

He shakes his head to clear the delicious fog of you, starting up the game and letting his hands find the controls as if they’re a second home. As much as he loves to put his focus into his game, you will always be his top priority, the cutest and most welcome little distraction.

Your lips press on the plane of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You hum, your hands wrapping around his waist to press against his tummy. Your fingers slip underneath the material, desperate to feel his skin in any way you can.

He shivers when your nails scratch up and down his soft stomach. The beeps from the game mirror the jolts in his upper body as he aims and shoots, diminishing the rows of aliens on the screen.

You peer over his shoulder, patient and almost in awe of how controlled he is. So calm in the moment but you know he’ll be very vocal when the game ends. His score crawls higher and higher, as do your words of praise and encouragement.

“You got this, daddy.” You tease, hearing him growl deep in his chest.

“Cut it out, little fox. I’m trying to focus. And watch those hands.”

“Oops.” You giggle as if you don’t control the fact that your hands are veering south. Meeting the denim of his jeans, dreaming about going lower. But you decide to behave and tuck your fingers into the belt loops and kiss his shoulder.

“Fuck, almost got it. One more row and I’m toast.”

The pressure is high and you’re holding your breath as the rows of enemies creep lower and lower. But Harry feels like he’s been training for this moment. He’s about to surpass his highest score, taste it on the tip of his tongue, like his slushy. Or you.

You hold your breath as he grits his teeth, fully immersing himself in this game. He can feel the vapours of victory encase him, wrapping around his frame and bubble in his chest. They escape in excited yells as he surpasses his highest score.

“Fuck yes!” He cheers, whipping around to pick you up and spin you in a circle. Your congratulations are a round of elated yells and kisses. He puts you down and fist bumps the air, slapping the side of the gaming machine.

“Daddy reigns high, bitches!”

Others in the arcade shoot him looks at his expressive behavior. You shrug unapologetically, over the moon for your lover and his triumph.

“I’m so happy for you, handsome.” You smile, hugging him and squeezing his biceps. He wrinkles his nose and flexes them, showing off proudly even though he’s the least vain person you know.

He places his orange-stained glasses on you, adjusting so they sit perfectly on the bridge of your nose.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my lucky fox.”

Swimming in victory, Harry veers you towards the bowling alley. You exchange your heels for a pair of red and blue bowling shoes. Harry sits next to you, tying your laces before he does his own.

You find a secluded alley, away from other bowlers. You store your belongings in the booth, Harry’s fur coat included. Music blasts from the speakers and you hum along, trudging behind Harry as he approaches the rack and chooses a ball.

He picks the pink bowling ball in classic fashion. Bubblegum. He holds it, sending you a cheeky look and you brace yourself for whatever comment is about to come.

He nods to his hold of the three hooks in the pink ball. “Two in the pink, one in the stink, aye?”

You slap his chest, shoving past him to the rack and pulling up your choice of ball. A shimmering blue one.

“Behave, or you’ll have blue balls.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Nice one, honey made a funny.”

“I do try.”

You stare down the lane at the setup of pins, twisting your lips. You’re competitive but nowhere near as competitive as he is. You can see the strategies forming behind his eyes and you wonder if you can sweet-talk him into taking it easy on you.

He smirks. “Ladies first.”

You bite your lip, aiming up your shot as you swing the ball back in your grasp. You can feel his eyes on you, in admiration, but also watching your technique. Whether that’s to help you better your game or to use it against you, you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough.

Your blue ball careens down the lane, your posture impressive and you stand to watch it take down just three pins. You groan out in frustration, knowing your body is slow and cloudy from the joint and single drink you had. Your second shot is no better, knocking down two additional pins. You jot down your unimpressive score on the sheet with a huff.

Harry chuckles, coming up beside you and pinching your hip. “Lucky fox. Watch me sink ten.”

“You won’t.”

“How about this,” He spreads his hands, preparing his proposal. “for every pin I knock down, you give me a kiss.”

“I hope you gutter it.”

“Oh, bite me.” He glares, kissing his cross pendant hanging around his neck before grabbing his ball to swing his shot.

As the ball shoots from his hand, the muscles and veins flex in his arm, his foot crossed back behind him dramatically.

His jeweled fingers shield his eyes from an imaginary glare as he watches his play. The bowling ball speeds dead center down the lane, blurring pink and knocking down ten pins.

“Strike!” He yells, pleased with himself. He does a little dance, his flared jeans swaying as he jives.

Of fucking course he lands a strike. His competitive streak on a high from passing his high score. You jump out of the way as he reaches for you. A haze of yellow and blue denim, a lazy smile, and mischievous emerald eyes that don’t leave yours.

“You cheated.” You deadpan, wanting to wind him up more than anything.

He laughs before his expression is dropped, stoic with his hands on his hips. “As fucking if. Stop being a sore loser and pay up. Come on, ten smooches. And don’t be stingy, I’ll be counting 'em.”

You sigh, feigning a look of sore defeat. “Fine. Where do you want them?”

“Losers choice.” He grins, happy to receive your kisses anywhere you’ll give them.

You can’t help but smile, your heart careening and flipping in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the cheek, then the other, and then the nose, the corner of his mouth. When your lips meet, neither of you are counting anymore. Harry’s not even sure if he was counting in the first place.

It’s hard to act nonchalant when you’re kissing him. Or when you’re with him in general. He’s everything warm and gooey and glowing about life. All of your favourite things are wrapped into one dimpled, tattooed human. Curly, bubblegum.

It’s even harder to part. Even being in a public place, Harry sees no shame in showing his girl as much love and affection as he sees fit.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his voice a low whisper. “You’re my lucky little fox, but I’m by far the luckiest fucker alive to call you mine.”

You kiss him again, so head over heels, submerged in him, so far gone, and happy to be.

Your next approach to the lane is one of determination. You take a deep breath, trying to form a connection with your bowling ball while Harry whistles loudly behind you.

“You got this, baby! Your ass looks mint!”

You turn to look at him, your head tilted. “Stop trying to throw me off!”

Harry waves you off. “Turn back around, let me see the peach.”

You roll your eyes and try to push it to the back of your mind, eyeing the ten pins at the end and glaring. You want to impress Harry but you also want to impress yourself. The fog in your mind parts straight down the middle, allowing the perfect alignment of the alley.

You swing your arm back as you take a few steps forward before launching the ball down towards the pins. You hear Harry cheer you on as it fires dead center towards the pin. You shout at it, willing it to stay on course.

The ball veers ever so slightly to the right, clipping half of the pins and knocking down an extra two. Seven down, the three remaining glaring at you. Harry scoops you up with an excited yell, spinning you in a circle.

You kiss him, unable to help yourself. You retrieve your ball and face the pins, Harry crowding behind you with his hands on your waist. His lips brush your ear, soft and enticing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Three left, little fox. Want the pro to help you sink 'em?”

You smile, turning your neck so you can nudge your nose against his. “Please.”

With his hold on your waist, he ushers you to the left a little, lining you up for the shot. “Aim slightly to the left, okay? Give it full power.”

You nod, letting his arm guide yours in a trialing movement. “Like this?”

“Just like that, atta girl.”

He takes a small step back, sensing your immense focus on his teachings. You let the ball roll from your fingers, surging towards the remaining pins. You’re hopeful as it nears them, staying right on course just as Harry had predicted. His arms are wrapped around you as you both watch the ball knock down the three pins.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He yells, squeezing you tight while you cheer at your win. You high-five him, slipping his glasses from your nose and tucking them into the neck of his shirt.

You shrug and drop your chin against your shoulder, bashful.

“That was slick as shit, foxy.”

He’s impressed, proud even, as he writes your score down on the card. Your little victory dance is adorable, his smile growing as you parade around in triumph. You’re still buzzing, the weed sizzling and melting in your bloodstream.

“Your turn, hotshot.”

“Might as well put down a strike for me now.” He points to the scorecard.

“You’re cocky sometimes, you know that?”

“Pfft, only sometimes? If I bury ten, I get to borrow those pants next weekend.” He points to your gold sequins and your roll your eyes playfully.

“You know I’d let you, anyway.”

“Mm, but I like winning.”

He picks up his pink ball, throwing you a wink before skillfully lining up his shot. He sinks eight easily, toppling over and knocking the remaining two. Another clean strike. The celebration that proceeds is no less enthusiastic, shared kisses and cheers.

You write down his score on the sheet, as Harry seemingly loses all interest in the bowling game at hand. It’s hard to focus on anything but you, and with his own buzz slowly dissipating, he’s only high off you.

He presses you against the table, your breath hitching as his hands slide down the backs of your thighs. His lips brush yours and you’re quick to flick your tongue out against his bottom lip.

“You owe me ten kisses, pretty girl.”

Your hands tangle into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “Can I get a please?”

The smirk that curls at his lips creates a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest. “Feeling bossy tonight, hm? You wanna call the shots?”

Genuinely intrigued by the idea, you tilt your head shyly. “Would you let me?”

“You’re asking if I’d let you be in control, little fox? Let you sit on my face, ride my cock as long as you like?”

Hearing the words leave his mouth strips all moisture from your mouth. It’s streamed between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together to quell the sudden intense burst of arousal.

“Harry, please.”

His expression is one of heady desire, “I’ll be your good boy tonight. You just need to give me a kiss, first.”

The sentence barely leaves his lips before your lips meet his. Messy and heated. His lips encasing your lower one, your tongue finding his. He doesn’t even attempt to stifle the moan that rumbles in his chest.

He presses tightly against you, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath his denim jeans. You pull away, your eyes lulled. Harry smiles lazily, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before giving your ass a full squeeze.

“Let’s ditch this joint, hm? Burn some rubber in the Dodge, you can give me a handy on the way back to yours.”

You don’t even have the willpower to slap him for the comment, too enthralled with his sudden change of mood. Sappy and gooey, you just want each other.

“What about the game?” You gesture to the bowling alley.

“It’s a tie, or you win. I don’t care, I just wanna get home and let you use me.”

After collecting your belongings and swapping the bowling shoes for your own, you find yourselves tucked into his Dodge Charger, the engine roaring to life. The bright nightlife reflects off the yellow exterior of the car as Harry drives through the streets of Miami.

Harry turns up the radio, All Along The Watchtower booming through the speakers, bass thrumming in your throat. You put the window down and get lost in the breeze. The song, the man you’re with, feels like something one could only dream of.

Harry has one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. He squeezes it every so often, and you have to take a deep breath to stabilise how turned on you are. It’s thick and cloudy between you.

His jaw is sharp, his eyes are trained on the road. He leans over at a red light, sealing your lips together in a kiss that you feel in the pit of your stomach.

As the light turns green and his foot is pressed on the accelerator, you’re leaning over the center console and nuzzling your face into his neck. The deep, woody vanilla smell is your aromatic home.

Your teeth bite gently into the skin before you suck, knowingly marking him. He hisses, his hold on your leg tightening at the sensation. It creeps higher, eager to feel you. Your hand finds itself on his thigh, inching towards where he wants you most.

You know you don’t have much time before you’re due to pull up at your apartment. And you’re impatient by nature. Your lips don’t leave his neck as your hands work to open his belt, clinking buckle and worn leather parted so you can pull down the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh, my god.” He groans, your fingers finding his length through his briefs. You peek out the window, taking note of where you are and knowing you need to be quick about this.

You carefully pull his length from the confines of his pants, wrapping your fist around him. He breaths out a shaky sigh as you touch him, so hot and silky, getting harder and harder for you. You look at him, flicking your tongue along his jawline to meet his ear.

“Spit on my tongue like a good boy.”

Harry’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, trying to keep his cool as if you aren’t fisting his cock and asking him to spit in your mouth. You pull away, opening your mouth wide and raising your brow expectantly.

Flicking his eyes from yours to the road, he swears under his breath before gripping your chin to steady you. He spits in your mouth, feeling so fucking unhinged that his ears are ringing.

You hum, satisfied before you return your attention to his throbbing cock. You spit directly on the head of his dick, using your hand to spread the moisture down the entirety of him. He lets out a soft moan at the slick feel of your tightened fist.

Your nose nudges his cheek as you work him with your hard, his breathing shaky, blissful noises leaving his mouth as you pick up your pace.

“Do you want my mouth on you, baby?” You mewl, your voice so sweet and sugary in his ear.

“You know I do.”

“Beg me.”

Harry clenches his jaw, wound up so tight from you. He can feel the reigns of control gripped surely in your hands, just as firm as your hold on his cock.

“Please, my little fox. Please let me feel your gorgeous mouth wrapped around me, I need it.”

“How badly do you need it?”

“So fucking bad, please let me fuck your throat, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You want me to have a taste?” You’re loving having the power. Hearing him become so desperate for you, shamelessly beg for you.

“Fuck, please. Please taste it.”

You smirk, pleased with how good he’s been for you. You get comfortable, leaning down so your head is practically in his lap. You flick your tongue against the underside of his tip, moving up to swirl your tongue along it. He’s wet with pre-come and so hard for you.

His thighs tense under you, his hand tangling into your hair. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Filling your mouth with his cock while Jimi Hendrix fills the thick air with his voice.

He almost misses his turn as you envelop his tip past your lips, your hot mouth a welcome warmth that he moans at the feel of. Your hand works his shaft, getting him nice and wet so you can slowly take more of him.

Your throat is tight and Harry chokes out a curse as you take most of him, your muscles constricting around him. So big and so thick but you’re determined to have him as deep as he can go.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He sighs, fisting your hair so tight that tears form in your eyes at the sharpness of it.

He tastes heavenly, and as if that isn’t enough, the sounds he makes are otherworldly. They egg you on, spur you to make him feel as good as possible. You work him harder, bobbing up and down while your hand jerks his skin.

Harry is near on sobbing above you, having to focus on the road even though his vision is blurring. The purr of the engine and the wet hot of your mouth is too fucking much. He comes to a stop at a red light a little too harshly and you come up to glare at him.

“Be careful-“

But he’s pushing you back down, his expression almost panicked. Someone’s pulled up next to you at the red light. “Shh, shh, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Shit, that’s fucking good. Oh, my god.”

The light switches to green and after Harry completes a turn, you come up again, your glare even harder this time.

“Who’s in control again?”

“Oh, shit-“

“Answer the fucking question.”

He swallows, panting. “You are, sweet girl.”

“Exactly. If you try to boss me around, I’ll make you sit on your hands while I fuck myself.”

“Jesus Christ-“

“Do you understand? I’ll get out that pink toy you like so much, let it be the only thing that fills my pussy tonight.”

“Fuck, yes I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Will you be a good boy?” You check, on fire with how hot it is being the dominant one tonight.

“Yes, I’ll be your good boy.”

Satisfied with his answer, you swallow him again. Not giving him a second before his tip is nestled right against the back of your throat. You hum around him, the vibrations driving him wild. You can feel him pull over to the curb, and a quick glance out the window tells you that you’ve reached your apartment.

You don’t give him any room to question how the night will go, you simply head inside while he puts his rock-hard dick back into the tight denim of his jeans and chases after you.

At first, you spent an equal amount of time at each other’s apartments. But, over time, it became clear that Harry favours your own abode. So much warmer and homely than his. A woman’s touch that his is missing. He loves your bright green sofa, the stacks of books that serve as little side tables.

It had been an unspoken observation, met by two surging souls. He noticed the little things at first. You started to stock your cupboard with some of his favourite snacks, an extra toothbrush found a home in your bathroom. And, after a while, he barely found himself leaving it.

You’re pressed against the mint-toned refrigerator, fervent lips attached to your neck. You push him away playfully with a raised brow. Always so used to taking you how he wants to, he’s forgotten who’s in control tonight.

He releases a breathy laugh as you walk towards him. He backs away, falling into a chair at the dining table. It’s right where you coerced him, right where you want him.

You strip your shirt off, throwing it over his head and he removes it with a chuckle, not wanting to miss a thing. You decide to discard your bra as well, knowing how much he loves your tits and how much he’ll hate not being able to touch them and play with them.

“You like these pants, Harry?” Your fingers toy with the waistband and he shifts restlessly in his seat.

“I love whatever you wear. You make everything look so fucking sexy.”

You purse your lips. “Great answer.”

Your response has his heart leaping in his chest, feeling as if he just got a gold star. Hoping he can cash it in at some point tonight for an ounce of control.

“And what if I told you that the panties match?” You continue.

“Then I’d fucking beg to see them.”

“Do it, then.”

Your expression is unreadable and he just knows that you’re having too much fun with this.

“Please, let-“

“Uh uh.” You stop him. “On your knees.”

Harry is slow to comply, and maybe it’s so he can coerce a reaction from you. You tap your foot, the white platforms tall and intimidating. He’s on his knees in front of you, his expression soft and pleading as he stares up at you through his lashes.

“Please, baby. Let me see them. I’ve been so good, I promise I’ll behave.”

You scoff. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I need to see your pretty panties. Your cunt is my favourite place, let me see how you’ve dressed her.”

You try to hide how his words make you feel, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a puddle next to him. He always says the right thing. Granted, it’s always filthy and shameless, but it’s what you need.

“So desperate.” You smirk, holding his eye contact.

He licks his lips, not even denying it. He’s not ashamed, hell, he’ll even shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you want. His eyes fan down your legs as you peel your pants off, discarding them, left in nothing but your heels and your panties.

The panties are heavenly, ethereal. Mouth fucking watering. He’s surprised there’s not a puddle of drool on the ground next to him. White lace embroidered with golden threaded flowers. So delicate and angelic beneath the glittering excitement of the sequins.

You click your fingers, trying to get his attention. His hand reaches out and you smack it away. “Naughty boy.”

“I’m sorry,” He rasps. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise.”

“What about your mouth?”

“It’s yours to use.”

His curls are a mess atop his head, falling down his forehead in chocolate tendrils. His chest is heaving, his hands clenched into impatient fists he wants to grip your hair while he fucks you.

You take a single step forward, his face level with your panties. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fan over your core, so needy for him. You’re sure that the panties are saturated at this point, you can feel how wet you are and just know you’ll leave his face a mess.

You bring one of your feet up and rest it on the chair right behind him. Harry gulps, waiting for your next instruction.

“Do you like them?” You ask, your fingers toying with the band of the panties at your hips.

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Such a dirty mouth.”

You lean down, gripping his chin so hard his jaw drops. Harry’s not expecting you it when you spit on his tongue, it’s messy, speckling on his lips a little. He moans deep in his chest, keeping his mouth open, ready to obey.

“I’ll have to give it something better to do.” You coo, pulling your panties to the side to expose your core to him.

At the sight of your glistening pussy, Harry shifts on his knees, so desperate to taste you. To bury his face against you, fuck you with his tongue while his nose presses against your clit. Bossy little fox, he’s trying to behave but it’s so fucking hard.

Your fingers run along your clit, further down to where you’re wettest. You spread your arousal, swirling along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Harry’s nostrils flare at the sight, your moans are soft as you touch yourself.

Anchoring your foot on the chair with your center right in front of his face, your hand takes a fistful of his hair. With your hold on him, you bring his face forward, putting his mouth directly on your cunt.

His mouth is searing hot, so wet against you. Not wasting any time, Harry flicks his tongue out, between your folds to collect your wetness and closing his lips around your clit in a kiss. You throw your head back with an unsteady sigh, finally getting the attention that you’ve been craving all night.

It started as an electric throbbing, intensified every time he looked at you or touched you. Now it feels like a wildfire that blooms in the pit of your stomach and flares through to every nerve in your body.

Harry, finally happy to be allowed to touch you, eats your pussy with ardent lust. He’s desperate, frantic almost. You moan loudly at how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel, how desirable. He loves your body, loves touching it, making it hum for him.

You roll your hips forward, unable to contain yourself. He nibbles gently on your clit and you gasp out, pulling on his hair. His eyes flicker up to you, sparkling with mischief before they close as he hums, tasting you deeper, getting you wetter.

Your legs shake as he targets your clit even more, knowing it drives you fucking mad. You put your foot back on the ground, pulling your core away from him. His mouth chases after it, not ready to not have you on his tongue. Your taste drives him mad and he’s a man addicted.

He stands, desperate to have you but you push him back roughly. He lands on the chair with a thud, staring up at you with a bewildered expression. His curls are even more of a mess at this point.

“Let me taste you. I’ll make you come as many times as you want.”

“What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“You’ve soaked your pretty panties, sweet fox. Better take 'em off.”

You move to stand in front of him, gripping his jaw in your hand. Harry’s so fucking turned on, his cock unbelievably hard beneath his denim jeans that it’s starting to hurt.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The glint in his eyes does little to instill your confidence in him. He’s far too cocky, too cheeky to actually obey you. He’ll find a way to capture the reigns at some point, but not yet. You’re only just getting started.

As gracefully as you can, you sit upon the table in front of him. Harry swears under his breath at the sight, immediately lurching forward almost as if it’s an instinct. Your heeled foot presses against his chest, halting him before pushing him back into his seat.

You make him wait, spreading your legs. He pants, his eyes flicking between your panties and your face. Waiting. So patient.

“Take my panties off.” You instruct. He raises his hand and you tut. “Uh uh, use your teeth.”

Harry growls, placing his hands on the edges of the table and licking a bold stripe up your thigh. You tense, wishing his tongue was back on your cunt but you know this payoff will be good.

His nose runs along the edge of your panties, right next to where you want him. He flicks his tongue out against your inner thigh and your legs jump at the attention. His teeth meet the band at your hip, drawing it down slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours once, ensnared in you.

With one side lowered to your upper thigh, he moves to the other side, sucking the skin of your navel right above the band of your panties. You gasp as a mark forms before he pulls down your panties from your hip.

You shift your hips up, helping him peel them down your legs, taking them in his fist and shoving them in his pocket.

“Good boy.” You praise. “Come get your taste.”

The words have barely left your lips before his mouth is on your cunt again. Vibrating against you as a moan rocks through him. You taste so fucking good, maybe even more than usual because of how withholding you’ve been.

You collapse against the table, the surface cool against your back. His enthusiasm is unparalleled. The kind of pleasure he gives so easily used to be the kind you could only fake with partners. But he does everything so well.

“Perfect little pussy,” He coos against you.

He traps your clit between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue against it. You cry out, your thighs closing around his head. He delves his tongue south, finding your entrance and gathering the gushing wetness.

He doesn’t hesitate to go further down, his tongue massaging your rare entrance briefly before he’s pulling back and spitting directly on your pussy. His eyes meet yours and you just about pass out at the sight of his face fucking saturated with you. Almost dripping off of his soaked chin.

You grip his head, pushing him back down. He’s happy to oblige, eating you out so fast and intense that your vision starts to blur.

“Fuck, yes right there, oh my god.”

He sucks on your clit, humming to vibrate the area. You come up to rest on your elbows, wanting to watch him. You roll your hips up and he becomes idle, letting you fuck his face. He falls back into the chair, his hand coming down to massage his dick through his jeans while you grind your cunt against him.

“Are you going to come in your pants while you eat my pussy?” Your tone is verging on condescending and Harry almost finishes right then and there.

His cock throbs at your words, so out of it for him. He feels unhinged, so close to shutting you up and plunging his length into you. You’re so wet and so sweet for him, it would be so easy to slide into your plush cunt and feel your walls grip him like a fist. But he wants you to come like this first.

“Let me give you my fingers, baby. Want you to squirt all over me, make a fucking mess of me. Please let me.”

“Not… yet…” You breathe out, even though you feel so fucking close you could scream.

As if sensing your control slipping, you push him away. You can feel your orgasm brewing and you know that as soon as it hits, you’ll be a writhing mess and your game will come to a finish the second that you do.

“What-“

“I don’t want to come yet.” You gasp, your chest heaving and your core tingling with heat.

“You really want to play this game, little fox?”

You stand your ground. “Go get on the bed.”

Your bedroom is his favourite place. Warm yellow and orange ambiance, a wide bed with crushed velvet bedding. That in abundance with your fervor and passion, Harry swears it’s like sleeping in the sun. Golden, burning desire, deliciously cocooning beams of sunny adoration that wash over you.

As if he’s missed the warmth of it, he sits eagerly on the edge of your bed with a soft bounce. He peels off his shirt, feeling too hot to keep it on. His belt is already undone, he unbuttoned his jeans and you tap your foot.

You saunter towards him, a prowess with hauntingly lustful eyes. He clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness decorate his chin mouth still. You push him flat onto the bed, crawling to straddle him. Your core presses against the fly of his jeans and you can feel how hard his cock is.

His hands find your hips immediately and you push them away with a glare.

“Keep your hands off.”

“Make me.”

Taking it as a challenge, you lean over to the bedside table and open the middle drawer. A draw often opened whenever you and Harry find yourself tangled up in these sheets. A drawer of trust and exploration. You grab a few things, hiding one object under the pillow so he doesn’t see it.

With two pieces of rope, you tie around his wrists and attach the ropes to the steel rings in your headboard. Harry had them installed as soon as he realised how much you loved being restrained in bed. Turns out, he enjoys it just as much.

Your relationship with Harry is a constant stream of excitement. At first, you thought that potentially he would always have the upper hand. But the reality is, you’re two equal souls in every aspect. You split bills, you wear each other’s clothes, you both had control in bed. It has never been like this, though. Tonight is new and different.

He allows you to tie him up, barely tensing his muscles and pulling on the restraints. You know that you’ll be unable to untie him in a split second if he wants to, but the smug look on his face tells you he’s content. For now.

You scoot up, sitting on his chest, smooth and inked. You spread your legs, settling your feet on either side of him. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your core right in front of him. He can see that you’re almost dripping and he wants to catch it with his tongue.

He has no idea what you have planned, only knows that you’re having too much fun playing with him like this.

His eyes watch your every movement, on edge yet intrigued to see what you’ll do next. One hand reaches down to palm his cock through his jeans. He shifts his head back into the pillow with a low groan. Now that you’ve successfully distracted him, your other hand reaches for the other item you retrieved from the draw.

Upon hearing you sigh, his eyes fly open. You have the pink dildo in your hand, running it between your saturated folds. Harry pulls on the restraints, wanting to touch you so fucking bad.

“Holy shit.”

You bite your lip, gripping his cock harder. You pull down the zipper, slipping your hand inside. His briefs are wet with arousal and you push past the barrier of them to find his bare cock.

You lean back a little, fully exposing yourself and slipping the tip of the toy lower. His eyes are full of pleading as you slowly push it inside with a soft mewl. Your hand remains on his cock, slowly working the skin.

“Baby-“

“What?” You raise your brow.

“Please, fuck me instead.”

You smirk, slowly shifting your hips as the tip of the toy sits snugly inside of you. You push it in further, your eyes fluttering at the full sensation of it. It’s nowhere near as good as Harry, but you moan like it is.

Harry shifts with a growl, seeing you look so blissful from something other than him driving him mad. His favourite little gasp you make when he first pushes his cock past your tight walls is now ushered because of a fake dick.

You throw your head back, starting to fuck yourself with the toy. So wound up from the entire night. You work the dildo faster, stirring yourself into a frenzy. Not holding back your moans and cries because you can feel how tense Harry is beneath you because of them.

“Fuck, please stop.” He whimpers, so desperate to have you.

You moan loudly. “I’m so close.”

“Please, oh my fucking god. Please, let me fuck you, I can’t take it. I need to make you come. Please. I’ll do anything please just-“

While he rambles, you grab your panties from his pocket and shove them in his mouth, shutting the stream of begs off right at the source. He garbles around the intrusion, pissed off now. You lick your hand and reach behind you, gripping his cock again.

“Be. Good.”

He growls, slamming his head back into the pillow in annoyance. You continue fucking yourself, grinding your hips. The warmth build and tingles in your lower stomach, the toy pressed tight against your g-spot from this angle.

The warmth blooms and spreads, so close to exploding. Your walls clench mercilessly around the dildo and you gasp at the pleasure building hot and fast. Harry can tell that you’re almost there. Tell that he’s worked you up with his mouth and now you’re edging towards the precipice of euphoria.

“Feels so good,” You gasp. “so fucking big, oh shit.”

Harry bucks his hips up, pulling on the restraints around his wrists until it burns. You reach forward, removing the panties from his mouth. As fun as it is to gag him with them, you miss his voice, miss the dirty words that colour it.

“Give me your pussy now.” He snarls.

“Do you deserve my pussy, Harry?”

“Yes,” He hisses. “I’ve been good for you, haven’t I? Now untie me so I can fuck you.”

“No.”

Harry swears loudly, pulling on the ropes and you’re sure he’s about to break through them. But then he relaxes to glare at you, his nostrils flaring.

“You’re in big trouble, little fox.”

You fuck yourself harder, unfazed. “I’m sure I am.”

“You know that as soon as you untie me I’m going to fucking ruin you, don’t you?”

The threatening promise sets you off, your orgasm hitting you so hard you almost collapse at the pleasure of it, crying out his name. Your vision is blurred, tiny white dots clouding it. You remove the toy just as a burst of clear liquid from your cunt paints Harry’s chest and face.

Harry’s jaw drops as it hits him, his eyes narrowed at your expression. You look gorgeous when you come and from this angle, he can see everything. Feel it as it wets him.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses, surprised that he didn’t just come because of what is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You come around quickly, stripping off his shoes and jeans before shifting to settle between his legs. He calls your name as you take his cock in your hand before quickly swallowing him. He grits his teeth, so fucking close to exploding down your throat.

“Untie me.”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief, taking him deeper. Your hand plays with his balls, rolling them in your palm gently. Harry throws his head back, his ears ringing. He snaps his head back up, seeing his glistening chest painted in your orgasm.

And then he feels something circle his ass, nudging very carefully at his rare entrance. The toy. Saturated in your wetness, now about to be used on him. Just the idea of it has his balls pulling up tight and his entire body tingling. If you progress further, he’ll finish before you even get started.

“No, no you naughty little- fuck!”

His cock is tucked snugly down your throat, the sensation unreal as you gag around him. You continue to tease him with the toy and he just about loses it.

“Baby, you gotta stop. I’m right there, fucking stop.”

He starts to almost panic, not sensing you slow down at all. Almost as if possessed, he flexes every muscle in his arms and rips right through the rope restraining his wrists. You jump up in shock, standing at the edge of the bed.

You’re not able to get far as he grips you by your throat and presses his forehead against yours. His chest is heaving as he pushes through his aggression.

“What did I tell you, hm?”

You smirk and it pisses him off further.

His voice is low and dangerous and he grips your throat tighter. “I told you that I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“You’re all talk.” You manage out past the grip of his hand.

His fingers move from your throat to the nape of your neck. He pushes your face towards his glistening chest.

“Dirty fucking girl. Look at the mess you made. Clean me up and then ask me to fuck you.”

You hum, smiling at how filthy he is. You push him back onto the bed, following after him. Your tongue licks up the mess from your orgasm on his chest, up his neck, and his chin. You suck on his tongue, your limbs feeling like jelly and you know you’ll be a mess before he’s even done with you.

“There’s my good girl.”

You want to defy him a little more. You kiss down his chest again, down his toned stomach, and find his navel with your teeth. He hisses out, taking a fistful of your hair. He’s not falling for this again. He needs to fuck you. Now.

He grabs you, flipping you on your stomach and spanking your ass hard. And then again on the other side. You cry out his name, feeling a little disorientated from the change of position and sudden switch of control.

He’s holding the reigns now.

He bites your reddening cheek, growling out and coming to straddle over you. You turn your head to watch him and he shoves your face into the bedding. You can’t even hide your glee, pleased to have successfully riled him up this much.

He spreads your cheeks, slipping his fingers between your folds to feel how wet you are. He cocks his head to the side with a smile before he wraps his hand around your chin, delving three fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, knowing he wants them nice and wet.

Now wet, he spreads the moisture on his fingers along his cock and lines himself up to your cunt.

He pauses, moving his hand from your head so you can turn to look at him. “Say please.”

“Please fuck me.” You whimper.

“Are you done with your little game?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s slamming into you so hard you feel winded. He doesn’t stop, pressing into you before retracting. He fucks you into the mattress, his hands anchored on your hips as he takes you. He knows he won’t last long, so overworked from the whole night. Your cunt is wrapped around him so tight and it doesn’t help.

He spreads your cheeks, spitting directly on your ass and he uses his thumb to spread it. You stifle a moan as he massages the tight area before slowly pressing his thumb in. While he’s slow and gentle there, his cock is splitting you in half, shredding an overwhelming euphoria inside of you that he knows how to build so well.

“Fuck, Harry, so good-“

“Yeah? Is this what you want, hm? Want me to get rough with you?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Mm, or did you just wanna play with me? Tie me up, play with that dildo, squirt all over me, leave me all wet. Fucking tease my ass with the toy you made yourself come with.”

“Fuck, yes. I wanted to tease you.”

“Filthy fucking thing. You think daddy will let you play with his ass like that?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathe out.

“Think again.” He exchanges his thumb for two fingers, slipping them into your ass with ease and matching his rhythm with his cock.

You can feel the pressure in your stomach as he pushes you against the mattress. He’s so out of it, delirious with his need to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess. You fist the covers, needing to grip something before you lose it. He’s everywhere. On your tongue, in your ass, your pussy, your fucking soul.

You feel like you’re about to come, and Harry curses as your walls clamp around his cock, feels you tighten around his fingers. He pulls out, moving you onto your side and lying behind you. He kisses you, gripping your outer leg to hold it up. He drags you closer, slipping his cock back into your warmth.

“Fuck, dreamy fucking cunt. My favourite, oh shit.” He’s obsessed with how you feel and you can sense that he’s lost all ability to think straight.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you roll your hips back to meet his thrusts. You’re so wet for him, the slaps in the room of his skin hitting yours growing louder and louder. He grips your wrists in his hand, licking his fingers on his other hand before reaching down to play with your clit.

He’s notorious. Knowing you’re overly sensitive. He pinches it between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it. You careen forward, so overwhelmed and so close to coming. It’ll shatter you, you can just feel it.

Harry flips you onto your back, coming over you and putting your legs on his shoulders. His hands shake as he reconnects with you and starts fucking you so hard you don’t know which way is up. He loves fucking you this way. He can see everything, see your face, see how hard you shake.

You cry out as he places his hand on your abdomen, pressing down until you can feel his cock and the pressure of it.

“You gonna come, sweet fox?”

You nod, tears forming in your eyes at the intensity of him.

“Yeah? Go on, give it to me.” He encourages.

Almost as if it needed permission from him, your body explodes automatically. Wet, tight, toe-curling. Harry admires how fucking beautiful you look when you come. So out of it, spiraling in a world of pleasure that leaves him wetter than your last orgasm.

“Yes,” He hisses out, lightheaded at how tight you are. “good fucking girl.”

You grip his arms, trying to hold onto anything while it feels like you’re floating through nothingness. Your core is unrelenting, sucking him deeper and deeper, pulsing through the aftershocks of your orgasm. Harry groans, releasing your legs and dropping his face into your neck.

His thrusts turn into grinds, wanting to get as deep as possible inside of you. Addicted to how snug you are.

“Fuck, so close.” He rasps. "Dreamy fuckin' pussy. Made for me. Made for my cock, holy shit."

Your fingers tangle into his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your heels dig into his back and your hands pulling his hair adds to the sensation.

“Come, Harry. Please, I need it.”

“F-Fuck, where?”

“Inside me.” Your words are barely a whisper but he hears them loud and clear, encourages him to fuck you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to fill you up with his cum?"

"Please,"

"I’ll give you all of it, get you fuckin' pregnant. Make you give us a baby. Fuuuck, I’ll cum in you every fuckin' day until it happens.”

“Fuck, please.” You whimper, so turned on and in awe of what he’s blabbering about.

Harry’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. He doesn’t stop fucking you through it, grinding and screwing up into you. Your walls are painted with thick white ropes of his cum and you gasp at the feeling of how deep he is. He bites down on your neck, moaning your name with a deep growl.

He kisses you for ages after, his cock softening inside you. Your body feels like a live wire, your heart thumping boldly in your chest. Harry gives you a final kiss before retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you with.

Your frown at his raw wrists, burned from the rope. “They look sore.”

He shrugs, his eyes kind. “Doesn’t hurt that bad. Let me take care of you.”

So, you let him. He always takes care of you. Takes his time to cherish your body, restore it and clean it. Kiss every inch and tell you how much he loves it. He traces your stretch marks, kisses every freckle, soothes every trembling limb.

And, once he’s done, you reciprocate with another cloth. Gentle kisses, even more gentle touches to his wrists. You run your hands through the mess of curls, cuddling him close as you settle under the covers of your golden abode, feeling warm and loved and content.

“I left my soul at The Score.” Harry comments, running his hands up and down your back.

“You fucked mine out of me.”

His chest shakes as he laughs, kissing your forehead with a chuckle. “It was those damn panties. They possessed me.”

You both laugh softly, wrapped up in each other with tranquil heaven that exists wherever your two hearts are connected.

He has diminished any chance of a sullen existence in a sometimes devastating world, a delicate and colourful essence that was made for you. He’s a burst of light, shrouding any ounce of uncertainty. A rush of adenine that makes life worth the rush. The resolute constant that will cradle and cocoon you. He is every adventure and endeavor. And you’re his sidekick till the very end, benevolent and tender-hearted.

Foxy, bubblegum, snow, and cloudy joints. All are facets that encapsulate two souls melding into one inconceivably free entity.

[thr0wnawayy]

AU Ideas and other Concepts. 1/?)

Authors Note: I apologize for the delay for the upcoming chapters of Crownless Monarchy, I have been working on the next three chapters (at once) and hope to release them sometime soon.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Hey y'all. I figured I'd let some of these ideas see the light of day. Perhaps one of you can make something of them.

A bit of disclaimer: The way "s/i" isn't the typical. A Self Insert is usually the author putting themselves as a character.

In the MHA Community this is usally done through projecting ones personality through an existing character (ex: Midoriya)

The way I use S/I is a either:

A: A OC with knowledge or awareness of MHA's canon in some form (visions, reincarnation, intution) These characters are usually made up from a collection of different people and experiences, rather than just my own personhood.

A Character like Seven fit this bill.

B: S/I but Ingrained. Aka a S/I that blends and adapts to the world of MHA, their past self is not as relevant (if it's brought up at all) however may play a role in their perspectives and world views.

A Character like Arachne fits this bill (for another post)

With that out of the way, let's start small and work our way up:

Bonuses: (Minor prompts and concepts)

Dabi uses the PLF's connections to give Rei better treatment/conditions at the Hospital, or just transfer her all together to somewhere safe.

The Hood Enji fights is a Twice Clone while the real Hood is elsewhere.

S/I wakes up as Touya after the 3 year coma.

This one's out there: Hood meets Rei and causes a realization through his blunt honesty (f-flowers, iss the bar t-that low?)

Gigantomachia rewrite/replacement (idk, mine said make them motivational rather than denouncing, also make them smart)

a Vigilante group inspired by the 50 Blessings Organization from Hotline Miami

_______________________________________

Event Swap: At Kamino, Enji's crimes are exposed (how is up to you)

Funfact: The above prompt was originally a time travel fic, here's the unfinished script & notes

HPSC gets exposed as well [ Child soldier project] ) (Perhaps this can be added as well?)

Zero was disguised as AFO and sheds her disguse for her grand reveal

Zero twirled around in place, glittering in the moonlight, taking deep breath "Come and serenade with me, Uncle Toshi." she was wild, wild and yet so meticulous.

They were speechless, shell shocked, They were running to the smoke and lost themselves in the fire.

"You're looking glum Endeavor, y'know for someone who's just achieved No1 status, Ya really need to brighten up!" She jeered.

A canon formed out of her forearm, quickly firing a beam of energy. An explosion rocked the district, some heroes barley fleeing in time, others not so fortunate.

She barked a manic laugh, her eyes wide as saucers, onslaught never ceasing, never to falter.

And as she made her great adeau, the nation finally knew that the age of heroism was torn asunder.

_______________________________________

Bonus: After Ms.Curious is killed, S/I posses her body and lives again (Type A: S/I)

Bonus: Strike Back

Class of Aldera is done with Bakugo's shit( Students stand up for Midorya and try to redeem themselves)

( Fingers calls himself a coward for giving into pressure and fear [ was forced to attack Midorya, threatened verbally and physically by Bakugo and became numb to it], is inspired by a David Shield interview to become a scientist )

Star and Stripes' (Cathleen Bate's) Neice, Head of the W.H.A, travels to Japan following AM'S retirement/ Kamino and begins to take over the reigns from the HPSC. Starting with U.A's internships.

Profile: Mary-Ann Bate

Dirty Blonde, 6,2 ft , wavy blonde hair slightly past shoulders, well kempt, suits and pants

Stern attitude, takes no shit, willing to ground Endevour and Hawks's hero licenses

Q: Reality

Bonus: Replaceable

During the sludge incident it's not Bakugo whom Midorya pulls out

A New Course Of Action:

Following the disaster (Pointless Kamakaze raid), Dabi's expose video and Twice's death at Jaku, The civilians of Tokyo decide to take matters into their own hands, it all starts with one after all.

And lastly a character profile of a background character turned OC

If you need reference, this is the girl seated next to Midoriya at Aldera, her quirk is pretty rad with the possibility of being better than Hellflame (because she seems to have fine control over the flame itself, becoming it). Of course she needs professional training first

I imagined them (her and Mido) here as friends who met halfway through middle school and have stuck together since.

Much like her quirk and namesake, Ryukka has a fiery disposition and doesn't take kindly to people* harassing her friend(s) (*read Bakugo)

She's one the only people at Aldera willing to stand up to him (her flames cause his quirk to overload)

As hinted at in her quote, she does get into UA and thanks to her and Midorya's study sessions (Quirk and academic wise) she gets in with high scores (beating out Bakugo's score in the Entrance Exam)

Has beef with Aizawa

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

As I stated, everything in here is up for grabs so feel free to use it in your works if you so wish.

Just remember to link it here in the comments

-Thr0wnawayy

[mangol0ver]

Think about the lifestyle you want to live and then work backwards to figure out what you need to do to achieve that. I am working on that right now. I honestly love Miami and would want to live here full time for max 2 years.

I want to wake up in the morning and read my bible, exercise, paint, do pottery, take fitness classes a couple times a week, train for marathons and overall love the quality of my life. I do not want a 9-5 job. If I do have a job I don’t want to work more than 3 or 4 hours a day.

The only way that I know I can achieve these lifestyle goals is either I improve on trading and start making 50-100k a month or have a lucrative income source aka my own business or a bestselling author. Worst case scenario is having a sponsor. These things don’t have to be mutually exclusive: I could trade, write books, and have a sponsor.

To write you need to read and I haven’t done either in so long. Trading also takes practice.

[v3perform]

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[hollywoods-angel]

anya taylor joy <3

anya-josephine marie taylor-joy is an actress born in miami, who lived in argentina and then london. she's played a variety of roles, one of my favorites being beth harmon from the queen's gambit.

shortly after she was born anya's family moved to argentina and her first language was spanish. when she moved to london she was really upset- she missed her rural life and hated the city, and in protest she tried to hold off on learning english. at school she participated in different acting productions. she took ballet classes until she was 15, felt like she didn't fit in, and at 17 she was scouted for modeling.

she is a brand ambassador for dior, and models for them. i saw her picture in the mall recently! anyways, she's incredibly beautiful and has a very unique appearance which makes her standout in all of her photos.

anya loves animals, specifically big animals. she loves horses and wanted to be a veterinarian for large animals. anya also enjoys 60s music, specifically the beach boys. she can play ukelele and the electric guitar.

[adventuresofahobbywriter]

Hello!

I've recently picked up the hobby of writing (not for anyone else just myself for fun lol) and I need some help with my characters.

The story revolves around a group of boarding school student that find a portal in the woods that teleports them to a fantasy world that's very much like a DnD type of environment. The group also transform into a race and class so they can fit into that world.

It's a group of six which feels like a pretty big group of characters, but the problem is that I LOVE all of them. I feel like I need to cut one or two of them or possibly repurpose them, but I can't decide who. I thought a good idea would be coming here and hopefully getting some feedback about what to do or possibly who to cut.

Here's the characters!

Emma Parker (15) Seattle, Washington

A 5'2, kind of muscular girl. She has blonde poofy hair that she only ever wears in a loose ponytail. Like the kind of loose ponytail that's not on purpose, but like the scrunchie was just a liiiiiitle too loose and then she went on a run. She usually wears athletic shorts, a soccer shirt, and a windbreaker. She also always wears a knee brace due to some undisclosed injury (we all know one). Her skin is a little tanner because she spends so much time outside and her cheeks and nose are always a little red. She's a very energetic and excited person, but VERY competitive and always feels the need to push herself to be better even if it's dangerous.

Kiyana (Ana) Ramesh (16) NYC, New York

She's 5'8 and kind of slender. The child of two Desi immigrants. She is at the school on a scholarship but, after being bullied at her last school, she decided to not tell anyone that information and instead joined the "popular" group. She is an EXTREMELY smart girl, but tends to act dumb and a little snobby to keep up with her new friends. She has black hair that reaches just past her shoulders and she is constantly trying to keep it tamed by straightening it or curling it. Her makeup is always done perfectly and she usually dresses preppy.

Abigail Whitlock (16) Oregon

Abigail is about 5'6 and curvy. She has brown skin and dark brown curly hair (about 3c). She was adopted at birth by a single woman. Her mom is the Headmistress of the school, the near constant supervision causing her to be slightly rebellious and stubborn. She dresses in a more alternative / goth style, wearing heavier eyeliner and black lipstick. She spends most of her time doing some type of creative projects (painting, knitting, sculpting, sewing, etc.)

Lucas Haine (15) Miami, Florida

A 5'8 lanky boy. Lucas has dark skin and dark brown / black hair that he wears in twists down past his ears. He has large brown eyes and most of the time gets mistaken for a 8th grader or freshman because of his youthful appearance. He usually wears ripped jeans, t shirts, and a flannel. He's usually either riding or carrying around his skateboard with the underside covered in stickers and doodles done by Abigail. He is smart and likes very stereotypical nerdy things, he's on the robotics team, TTRPG club, and comic books. Because he's so smart, he can come across at a bit of a know-it-all, especially when they end up in the fantasy world and he knows a good bit more than the others about how that world works.

Colin Walsh (16) Dublin, Ireland

Between 6' and 6'2 kind of muscular but you can't really tell (think sleeper build.) He has pale skin, but covered head to toe in freckles. His hair is red and fluffy with big curls. His face is covered by black rimmed glasses. He usually wears a sweatshirt over a disheveled button-up shirt, tan slacks, and either sneakers or dressier shoes. Ever since he moved to the US, he's developed a pretty intense coffee addiction. Stopping by the cafeteria between classes to refill his travel mug. He is very sarcastic and enjoys picking on his friends, it takes A LOT to get him worked up. He plays a lot of video games and is a member of the chess team.

Jae Chung (16) Los Angeles, California

5'10 and lean from being on the swim team. All the students come from pretty wealthy families, but his is by far the richest. He has black hair that's parted down the middle with the bangs hanging down onto his forehead (ngl look up Sang Heon Lee and that's who I imagine). He dresses very fashionable and always wears a silver chain around his neck. He's confident and egotistical, usually very concerned with his looks.

Just some extra info:

At the start Lucas, Colin, and Abigail are very close friends and hang out daily.

Lucas is the one who finds the portal.

I kind of want a Colin x Ana thing (not sure why, I just feel it)

I'm sorry this is such a long post! If you want to give some feedback I would be very appreciative! (:

[ebetec-language-academy]

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[josiebelladonna]

alex is not at ben shepherd levels with me.

what ben did with me was inexcusable. with alex, it’s more like, “i’m sorry. i can’t take your politics seriously anymore because you’re in a relationship with someone who not only calls herself a ‘gipsy’, but doesn’t even come close to fitting the profile of one, physically and socially.”

my friend denise calls herself that because her ancestors were true travelers, they escaped religious persecution and genocide. in fact, i could probably get away with calling myself that if i felt like it because my ancestors, though they hailed from the british isles, the “benelux” region of europe, and portugal, they all escaped and hid their heritage upon coming to north america because it was before the civil war and anyone with dark skin was a second-class citizen at best. none of them traveled because they were privileged. and yes, they usually had dark skin, especially in my case. this fucking piece of work alex is with is not a black person which makes it about a thousand times worse; a middle eastern person, definitely, but as far as i can tell, there’s nothing “gypsy” about her. she’s a racist. and she’s privileged (if you can have a fuckton of degrees and live in places like miami or paris, you are fucking privileged and have zero right to call yourself a vagabond or nomad). and no amount of supposed atonement on her part like helping cats will change that fact—as i said yesterday, it’s not about the cats. it’s just another thing she uses to save face. (alex is the real animal lover, imo)

you are not a gypsy. you’re a piece of work. and you work way too hard, too, like one of the number one regrets of the dying is they wish they didn’t work so hard (hence why she’s uninteresting at best to me.) and until alex wakes up and smells the coffee here and realizes how hypocritical he’s being (and the meditation thing he’s doing is a pyramid scheme and borderline cult), i’m going to continue to be a huge bitch about this because imo, you don’t truly love someone unless you wanna make them bleed from time to time.

[octuscle]

So I have a bit of a problem. I have this crush on a guy. He is so sweet and handsome. He is this really cute Korean guy from my class. A bit to shy, but just amazing.

I asked him if he would go on a date with me, but he told me I was not his type. I am a tall 20 y/o redhead.

Could you please make me his type? I really need him to date me!

No problem, just upload a photo of your crush and then activate "Transformation according to his wishes".

Your crush already wants you to speak Korean. He loves his home country and his native language. But you went to school in Seoul. At the International School. Your parents were in Korea on business at the time.

But he doesn't like Korea�� Too normal, he likes it exotic. Hehehe, you are exotic. Your father has black African roots, your mother is from Colombia. That makes you really exotic.

Your crush's parents are super conservative. They have always trimmed him for career and adaptation. He wants a friend who is the opposite of conformity.

Fuck, your brain is flooded with memories. How you first went to jail in Seoul for shoplifting. How your parents sent you back to your grandparents in Miami because they thought a life back home would suit you better. How you worked as a drug dealer for a while before you made a name for yourself as a rapper.

So, maybe not what you expected…. But I think it's not bad. And your crush is really into it!

Perfect fitting pic found @brotep 

[female-malice]

Cristian works a construction job instead of going to school. He is 14.

Carolina packages Cheerios at night in a factory. She is 15.

Wander starts looking for day-labor jobs before sunrise. He is 13.

Oscar Lopez, a ninth grader, works overnight at a sawmill in South Dakota. On this day, he skipped school to sleep after a 14-hour shift.

Children being processed by the U.S. Border Patrol in Roma, Texas. In the past two years alone, 250,000 unaccompanied minors have come into the country.

Cristian, 14, has been working in construction in North Miami for two years instead of going to school. Federal law bars minors from a long list of such jobs.

A detention site in the Rio Grande Valley in March 2021. The Biden administration has faced pressure to move unaccompanied children through the system quickly.

Migrant children were among the day laborers who gathered on a school day in Homestead, Fla., to find roofing, landscaping or other work.

A handwritten ledger, in Spanish, of Nery Cutzal’s debts to his sponsor, including money for tacos and clothes. The child owed more than $4,000, plus interest. Court information has been redacted for privacy.

Jose Vasquez, 13, photographed at the church he attends in Grand Rapids, Mich. He works 12-hour shifts, six days a week, at an egg farm outside the city.

A selfie taken by a 17-year-old at a Hearthside facility in Grand Rapids. She said older men at the factory sometimes harassed her.

From left: Oscar Nambo Dominguez, 16, was crushed last year under an earthmover near Atlanta. Edwin Ajacalon, 14, was hit by a car while delivering food on a bike in Brooklyn. Juan Mauricio Ortiz, 15, died on his first day of work for an Alabama roofing company when he fell about 50 feet.

Young workers exited an overnight cleaning shift last October at a JBS pork plant in Worthington, Minn. Their employer, a sanitation company, was later fined for violating child labor laws

Carolina Yoc, back right, worked on math problems after a night shift at a Grand Rapids food plant. The 13-year-old girl sitting next to her said she also worked nights at a factory.

It has been a little more than a year since Carolina left Guatemala, and she has started to make some friends. She and another girl who works at Hearthside have necklaces that fit together, each strung with half a heart. When she has time, she posts selfies online decorated with smiley faces and flowers.

Mostly, though, she keeps to herself. Her teachers do not know many details about her journey to the border. When the topic came up at school recently, Carolina began sobbing and would not say why.

After a week of 17-hour days, she sat at home one night with her aunt and considered her life in the United States. The long nights. The stress about money. “I didn’t have expectations about what life would be like here,” she said, “but it’s not what I imagined.”

She was holding a debit card given to her by a staffing agency, which paid her Hearthside salary this way so she did not have to cash checks. Carolina turned it over and over in her palm as her aunt looked on.

“I know you get sad,” Ms. Ramirez said.

Carolina looked down. She wanted to continue going to school to learn English, but she woke up most mornings with a clenched stomach and kept staying home sick. Some of her ninth grade classmates had already dropped out. The 16-year-old boy she sat next to in math class, Cristian Lopez, had left school to work overtime at Hearthside.

Cristian lived a few minutes away, in a bare two-room apartment he shared with his uncle and 12-year-old sister, Jennifer.

His sister did not go to school either, and they had spent the day bickering in their room. Now night had fallen and they were eating Froot Loops for dinner. The heat was off, so they wore winter jackets. In an interview from Guatemala, their mother, Isabel Lopez, cried as she explained that she had tried to join her children in the United States last year but was turned back at the border.

Cristian had given his uncle some of the money he earned making Chewy bars, but his uncle believed it was not enough. He had said he would like Jennifer to start working at the factory as well, and offered to take her to apply himself.

Cristian said he had recently called the H.H.S. hotline. He hoped the government would send someone to check on him and his sister, but he had not heard back. He did not think he would call again.

(continue reading)

[postitforward]

Sunday is the day of rest, as they say. This is never more important than during the holiday season, when all the busyness, noise, and darkening days can start to take their toll. 🌃

So for our Self-Care Sunday, however, we’ve got something a little bit special, and we can’t wait to share it with you. This week, it is the fabulously-named Slay-Bells with the fabulous folk at @305fitness-blog! 🏃

We are going to turn your workout into a wellbeing party! 305 Fitness is the bass-dropping, booty-shaking, Miami-nightlife-inspired endorphin rush you’ve been craving. And it’s sure to put you right, whatever your week has been like. With easy-to-follow moves and a live DJ in every class, this dance-cardio workout will have you drenched from head-to-toe without even realizing you’re working out! 305’s fierce Slay-Bells themed class serves Mariah and Kelly Clarkson Christmas diva energy and moves hotter than THOT cocoa. And deliciously sweet too. So don’t miss out—get ready to werk your way onto the Naughty List! 💃

👟 Self-Care Sunday Week Three: Slay-Bells with 305Fitness at 12pm EST 🎽

#holidayblueswithtumblr

[jules-has-notes]

2014 VoicePlay fall travels — school tour, and festivals, and cruising, oh my!

VoicePlay didn't have an extended tour scheduled for the autumn months, but that doesn't mean they were just sitting at home. (They did get some time at home, though, which is a good thing.) Their adventures were simply shorter and more varied.

.

RPI homecoming show

As part of Resselaer Polytechnic Institute's homecoming weekend in upstate New York, VoicePlay and pal Emoni Wilkins headlined "An Evening of A Cappella" with the university's student a cappella groups, Duly Noted, Partial Credit, The Rusty Pipes, and the Rensselyrics. Before the show, they were the guests of honor at a meet-and-greet for alumni of the student groups and the RPI glee club.

.

Pennsylvania school tour

When VoicePlay performed at APAP in January 2014, they caught a number of eyes, including those of executive director Rob Steele from the Williamsport Community Arts Center in Pennsylvania. He sought out their booth at the convention, and was impressed by their commitment to educational outreach.

So when mid-October rolled around, VoicePlay and Emoni set off for a whirlwind week of workshops at all eight school districts in Lycoming County. They visited two schools per day, culminating with a Friday student matinee and an evening concert at the Williamsport CAC. Since filming the fourth season of The Sing-Off the previous summer and the ensuing tour in the spring had greatly reduced the guys' ability to schedule time with students for nearly a year, they were excited to have some concentrated kid time.

Monday

morning in Muncy, afternoon in Loyalsock

Tuesday

morning in the Jersey Shore School District, afternoon in Montoursville

Wednesday

morning in South Williamsport, afternoon in Hughesville

A local reporter attended the Wednesday morning workshop, and did a very nice write-up for the Williamsport Sun-Gazette.

Thursday

morning in Chester Springs, afternoon in Williamsport

During the final workshop, Layne laid down some beats for a student to dance to.

Friday

all dressed up and ready for showtime

.

Bridgeport show

After bidding farewell to Emoni, the guys made a quick jaunt to Bridgeport, CT for one more show — complete with a theater pooch and tiled dressing room — before heading home.

.

Home time

After eight days of shows and workshops, flights and van rides, the guys got to enjoy two weeks at home with minimal interruptions. They did pop down to Miami for a charity event (with some very cool decor) that happened to coincide with Earl's birthday. In a belated anniversary celebration, Earl and Nick got tattoos of each other's voice waveforms. And, of course, they had to celebrate Halloween.

.

Cruising

At the beginning of November, VoicePlay hit the road — and the skies and the seas — once more. They fit in a quick Caribbean cruise gig before heading back north.

.

Kettering National A Cappella Festival

When they got off the ship, the boys jetted up to Dayton, Ohio for one of the biggest student a cappella festivals in the country. After headlining the Friday night concert, they spent Saturday running master class sessions with various high school groups. The Saturday night concert was headlined by Street Corner Symphony, who the guys would soon get to know better on the upcoming 2015 Sing-Off tour.

A member of Marlington High School's Dukes of Harmony documented the weekend in video, including a couple clips and photos of VoicePlay.

.

Back and forth

The boys popped home for a few days to do a couple corporate gigs — one of which will get its own post — before returning to Ohio for another weekend of shows and workshops. (Though Geoff did get a little concerned when a TSA officer at the Orlando airport recognized him after so many frequent trips.)

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Wittenberg University show

VoicePlay performed a concert as part of the Wittenberg Series, with collegiate groups Just Eve and Wittmen Crew opening for them. The next day, they held a master class workshop for the students, who then followed them down the road to the next festival.

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Ohio Wesleyan A Cappellooza

The second annual A Cappellooza brought together collegiate vocal groups from across the state. Participants included Denison University, Oberlin College, Wittenberg University, and the University of Akron, in addition to OWU itself. Given that year's theme of Disney music, VoicePlay were a natural fit as professional headliners for the night.

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Celebrating love at home

The guys escaped the frozen north, and capped off November by playing local weddings on the last two weekends before finally taking some time off to spend the holidays with their families.