#I pondered over adding some digital colour to this

[windsweptinred]

Because Hypnos took one look at the soggy Endless Calliope brought home and decided right then and there he was 'adopting' him... And no one can convince me otherwise. 😅

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

[honeyzen]

domesticated - k.d

genre: smut, petplay 

words: 4.4k 

warnings: kitten!play, dom doyoung, choking, unprotected sex (use protection!)

The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.

Even the night you met he was like this.

In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.

After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.

The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.

‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.

‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.

‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’

‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.

‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.

A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.

Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.

Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.

After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.

‘What?’

‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.

‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.

‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’

‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.

‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.

Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.

A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.

Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.

You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’

Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.

‘Naughty kitten punished.’

With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’

‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.

‘I don’t like that sentiment.’

‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.

‘Well?’

‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.

‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s your call, princess.’

‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.

‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.

‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtably, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.

You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.

Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.

Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.

‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.

You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.

His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.

‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.

Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.

‘My good kitten.’

A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.

You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.

‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.

He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.

The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.

‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.

‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.

A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.

‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.

‘One.’

Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.

‘Two.’

Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

‘Three.’

Another.

‘Four.’

Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.

‘Five.’ You croaked.

You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.

Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.

‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.

‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.

‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.

‘Sure?’

‘Do it.’

Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.

‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’

‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.

‘Want me? To do what?’

‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.

With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.

Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.

His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.

A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.

‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.

[sexen-sven]

Ron Weasley ~ request

I wanted to say I'm sorry that your request got deleted to however requested this :(( my account had some issues but I hope you like this one shot >~<

Request: Ron Weasley x innocent hufflepuff reader who is called pup

Warning : smut

Things your should know :

Y/n is your name

l/n is last name (yours)

Ronald Weasley had been your boyfriend and it was coming to a year of the both of you dating.

Y/n l/n had been an innocent Hufflepuff, a perfect, in your 6th year at Hogwarts like Ron. While doing your rounds for the night you had gotten quite warm for your liking, loosening your robes and tie, while unbuttoning a few buttons of your shirt. This lead to any walking past you with a blush dusting their cheeks and they got a a peak at your breast.

All of the sudden on your last round you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you against their chest.

Your back firmly against them you grabbed your wand gasping as you turned your body, looking up with your wand in your hand pointed at the culprit

"Hey pup"

"Blimey Ron you frightened me"

He just looked down at you and chuckled while placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"When will your round be done for the night my pup hmm" Ron questioned you

You pondered for a bit "this would be my last round"  you answered looking up at him

Ron looked down at you and gulped before while thinking of what to respond, all in the moment of starting down and you while your shirt exposed your breast giving him a clear view as he was a few inches taller than you.

Waiting for a response took longer than it should had you were about to reply when you abruptly felt something poke your cheek you flustered to say the least you mustered the courage and looked up at your boyfriend

"Babe...something...something is poking my ass" you said in an innocent tone

"Oh gosh pup the things you do to me-"

And before Ron could continue he caught sight of Filch: the Hogwarts caretaker, and he had abruptly grabbed your hand and when into the first room he saw: the potions classroom

Instantly pulling you down under a desk you fell bring Ron along with you. His arms rested at either side of you while his eyes were looking at the window and door waiting for the caretaker to go by.

Once the cost was clear Ron looked down at you when he heard you whisper out

"Why are we here Ronald Weasley"

With a peck he replied "Filch"

A soft slightly angry smack was brought to Ron's shoulder as you had been annoyed

" I could've have told him I am on perfects duties! Seriously Ron"

Rolling your eyes you looked away, as you though of the things you've done with Ron, sure you had snogged, cuddled but you never went further, you were just his innocent pup

~ㅅ~

Ron looked down once more and realized that your flimsy, skimpy, white almost see through shirt has in buttoned another button so now your ginger boyfriend could see your white lacy bra with a tiny yellow and black bow right at the middle the colours corresponding nicely with your house colours. Getting aroused further than he had before his bulge was now more prominent and with his cock pushing through the layers of clothing to be free.

As he looked down he slowly leaned and kissed you as it started off slowly but quickly paced into a hot steamy lust full kiss where he had pulled both of you up, his back resting against the desk while you were sitting in his lap as he's hands rested under your ass

Slowly squeezing your ass, you gasped which gave him full access to slid he tongue roughly down your throat and explore all over your mouth as you snogged under a table.

Moving around slowly on Ron's lap he starts groaning, the both of you pulling for air, as your foreheads resting on each other as you heavily breathe in

"let's take this up to the room pup...*heavy breathing*...it's dinner we have some time to ourselves"

As you nod he picks you up with he's arms situated beneath you as he grabbed your thighs making his way up to his common room.

~ㅅ~

"Caput Draconis" was what you heard Ron say to the fat lady and she swings the door open he walks into the portrait hole and throws you on the large couch.

"You've been very naughty pup"

"Look at what you've done" he says referring to his large bulge

Slowly and hesitantly looking down, too afraid to see what was there you finally looked down to he a massive bulge in his pant

Reluctantly you gathered the strength to ask the ginger with scarlet cheeks "can I help....but of course it's- you know- fine-" 

With a peck he shut you up quickly "of course... I'll be gentle, not to worry"

You just nodded getting right to it as you sat down between his legs pulling the layers of clothes off, and as the final layer came off you had felt something softly smack you in your face.

you gulped as Ron slowly took your hands guiding them towards his throbbing cock with a pulsing red tip.

"Just suck it like it lollipop" he smirked

Lowering your head giving a few kitty licks then easing your way into sucking his tip, groaning his hands found their way to your hair and he slightly tugged on it moaning for you to continue

As innocent as you are you grasped the concept of giving head to the ginger rather quickly and now you were bobbing your head up and down, dragging your tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the tip, sucking his balls and gently stroking Ron, with your occasional question of if you were doing ok and he would hum back with a satisfied moan giving you the answer you needed

All this lead to him to reach his high so soon as he had not had someone other than himself touch him like this for quite sometime.

"Ahh y/n mmm I think I'm gonna cum pup" his hands tangled in her hair pulling and occasionally forcing her head down to go deeper and take more of his 7 1/2 inch cock, when the poor girl could hardly fit 5 in her mouth.

With the seconds inching closer she felt Ron's cock twitch in her mouth as she heard the thud of Ron's head hitting the back of the couch as she felt a warm, thick, salty, sticky substance shoot out of his cock and down her throat filling her mouth to the entrance of her lips. Not sure what to do and if you spat it out, weather or no you would offend your boyfriend, thus you had swallowed all of his cum licking your lips afterwards

Ron looked down at you tremendously panting trying to steady his breathing to tell you how amazing you where

"I *pant* *pant* have never had....someone do that so well.. *pant* good job pup you deserve a reward" he says smiling at you

A reward you had wondered what he was going to do you all these unholy new thoughts running wild through your mind of what he would do giving you a new feeling in your lower region making it all wet

With your big doe eyes looking up at the handsome specimen in front of you

" a reward ?" curiosity lacing your tone

" hmm come" swiftly he scooped you up and walked up to his dorm as lunch was about to be over and he didn't want any disruptions

~ㅅ~

walking through the door he threw you on your bed this making not only your shirt flare up but your shirt as well, resulting in a sight of your white Lacey panties that had been crotch less and having your dripping pussy on display

Beet red flushing your whole face and you hurried to cover your bud but Ronald Weasley had other plans with him grabbing your arms in a quick motion and pinning them sobbed with one hand

He had already placed silencing charms and a charm on the door to keep it shut for sometime but it would wear off soon enough

With your hands pinned over top your head as you layer on the bed you legged closed shut. Nonetheless Ron shoved his bare knee between your legs opening them up, rubbing your cunt peppering your neck with sloppy wet kisses, as he goes lower every so often leaving a hickey marking you, as he was getting rid of layers leaving your bare chested with nothing but your panties on, you shiver while he continues to kiss down your belly further and he goes up to your ear slowly nibbling on it

"I wonder where my innocent pup got such naughty panties, especially where them on Friday night... it seems like your practically begging me to fuck you, and take you right here"

Whimpering you barely hushing out "i- I got it as a gift" your looked too the side and you said that chuckling he brought his head down letting your very scent soak in and you then peeped out

"Be gentle.. please this is my first time" you said rather embarrassed

" of course pup don't worry, just tell me if you want me to stop hmm?"

as he watched you nod he slowly inched his hand to you clit and he started to simulate you by rubbing his thumb in circles

"Ahhhh" you moan out

This let Ron continue on to more stuff and he stated to run a finger around your entrance slowly pushing a digit in, now pumping a digit while still rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit sending vibrations and jolts all though out your body making you moan even louder and they just got louder when he added another digit and then another

~ㅅ~

A few minutes pasted by and you had your panties already ripped off you, back arched while you were a moaning mess, reaching your orgasm you screamed out

"ahhh it's coming..mmmm I'm cumming... ahh ronn" you let out to Ron who just kept going at an even fastest pace if it was possible while you cummed all over his fingers

Bring his fingers to his lips he licked off most of your cum but left two fingers and brought it up to your mouth

“Suck puppy”

You sucked, and licked his fingers clean while he rubbed his large cock over you slit you looked down when he removed his hand from your lips with eyes as large as saucers

"H- how will that even fit?!?!" You asked in disbelief but also fear mixed in your voice while you looked down

"Don't worry pup it be just fine just hold on ok it's gonna hurt a bit at the start but I promise it will all be over soon" he reassured you that calming you down slightly

Without a warning he slowly pushed in his tip that was enough to get you groan in pain, your fists full of the sheets of his bed, he slowly went in a bit more and let you adjust while he moved at a slowly pace

Not even moment later you were moaning in pleasure and he could hear it loud and clear while you let out "faster ahh Ron faster babe"

Listening to you he moved faster and started thrusting and picking up his pace in an ungodly way holding one of your legs over his shoulder giving him  a better view, but also a better access

Moans and whimpers erupted form both your mouths as your back arched with so much jolts of pleasure being send through your body while Ron rammed into you and your hips colliding ever so often.

Ron had one hand on your hip with your leg propped up over his shoulder and another hand going over and squeezing your right breast, pinching your nipple

Your breath hitched as he was giving you a mix of pain and pleasure making you reach your high so soon again

"god I'm gonna cum mmmm"

"Fuck same pup" he groaned out

The both of you releasing with your eyes shut, a jagged breathy moan, your back arching back while you cummed all over his cock feeling him full you up so well.

With a short thud you both fell down on the bed panting with your breaths labored and you where so exhausted that you fell right to sleep after telling Ron how great that was.

A few minutes of silence lingered around the room while Ron watched you peacefully sleep, your chest slowly rising and falling, with soft almost unheard snores leaving you while you slept on your boyfriends bed

Ron got up and cleaned you up with a towel and then  dressed you with just a pair of panties from the extra pair of clothes you left for the times you slept over at his dorm and put a pair of boxers on himself, covered the both of you with a warm blanket and went to sleep with his arm draped around you while you suddenly turned around and snuggled into his chest.

——————————————————————————

(not edited)

A/N: umm I hope this was to your standards to who ever requested it. I’m really sorry your request got deleted and if u have any more requests I’ll be happy to write them mind you they might not be as lengthy lolz umm that’s all.

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 10: Sweet Beans AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157634/chapters/66411679 What if the overwhelming VR experience Gordon went through, had a deeper purpose than just being a simple simulation & a freelance debug job for him?But most importantly- what if Gordon Freeman listens to Metal & used to be in a band? aka. the “Metalhead Gordon AU”

- - The digital clock on the wall said 4:36 PM. 

 Gordon was laying on the futons in the living room, limbs lazily stretched out and staring at the ceiling. Most members of the Science Team were currently preparing dinner in the kitchen, supervised by Joshua.

 The past few days had been... certainly something. It felt like he had attempted speedrunning several different things at the same time because there was an unsettling feeling of time running out fast for something if he didn't. 

 He knew that was his anxiety. The feeling of too little time for anything, his thoughts running 88 miles per hour, sending him down rabbit holes of thoughts and worries. Especially, since his last job for Black Mesa had him mess up his medication schedule during his time in the simulation. He was slowly getting back to what he considered his personal normal state... and it was honestly a relief. 

 Gordon turned his head to the side, acknowledging Benrey, who was sitting beside him on a pillow, Gordon's injured arm gently laying on his open palms as he was applying a new layer of healing sweetvoice to it. 

His arm was significantly better now. Still sensitive to touch, but all in all healing. Though he had to admit that the scars that had been forming in the process were... unique. 

 The edge of where the mess started was more akin to what he had expected - lighter coloured slightly bumpy lines & patches where the skin had been damaged. 

 But the area where it had been an open wound? That's where it looked... unusual. It looked like a protective layer of flesh & skin had formed where it shouldn't have without a proper surgery. The skin there was just as light as the scarring on the edge... but it felt new. Sensitive. And a certain amount of weird because... well, this simply wasn't what a human body would do on its own during a healing process.

 Then again... his body had been getting help with the whole thing-

 Gordon closed his eyes and let out a soft hum, almost harmonizing with Benrey holding a steady note beside him, as the cool sweetvoice hit his arm. 

 He hadn't really had the time to ponder over the fact that he was sharing his apartment with several non-humans... but laying on a comfy futon, having to hold still and wait for Benrey to be done sweetvoicing at him - yeah, that sounded like a good time as any.

 Well, until he noticed that Benrey stopped singing. He opened one eye, seeing Benrey looking at him with a questioning look on his face, his head slightly tilted to the left.

 "Yo, you gonna space out on me with 'em big thoughts?", Benrey asked.

 Gordon chuckled at that. 

 "I told you once and I'll tell you again - your sweetvoice is good. Helpful and... just really relaxing. Helps my brain shut up about the painful shit and lets me focus on things I actually want to think about. Can't help it, my dude.", he said with a shrug and a soft smile.

 "Huh.", was all Benrey said, keeping eye contact with Gordon.

 The human in question blinked up at the guard.

 "If you want... I can tell you my thoughts while you do... uh... the healing thing? No need to reply to me, just... I don't know, me rambling for a bit?"

 Now it was Benrey's turn to blink - and to Gordon's surprise similarly to a lizard, an eye-lid-like part of eyes closing over them sideways.

 "... that's so fucking cool...", Gordon whispered in awe, staring at Benrey with wide eyes.

 "Whu- What?"

 "The thing your eyes do when you blink! I... I guess I was never close enough to actually notice it. It just looks cool, is all I'm saying."

 "W-Wow, Gordon Flirtman here trying to butter me up with the compliments?"

 Despite his quick retort, Benrey visibly turned a shade darker and averted his eyes, letting out a few pink orbs of sweetvoice before returning to the healing teal.

 Gordon let out an amused huff, resting his free arm behind his head and looking back at the ceiling.

 "Look, I just appreciate all the cool non-human things you and the others can do. I... I don't know how much of it was just part of the simulation and what you can do now that you're free again... but it's simply exciting to me!"

 He heard a slightly deeper-pitched tone coming from Benrey, somehow making him feel like it was okay to continue talking.

 "So many terrifying things crawled out of the Breach over the past years... all with the goal to destroy and to conquer. The Kaiju and every other creature related to them were all I had for reference for non-human beings for a long time. Aside from Joshua, of course, but you get what I mean."

 Benrey let out a few notes that sounded similar to a soft "Uh-huh". 

Gordon continued. 

 "But as scary as you guys think you are... and as you can be-"

 Gordon turned his head towards Benrey once more.

 "- Thank you for being you. Silly, obnoxious, chaotic and kind. And for showing me that not everything you can find beyond portals and in shady labs is something I should fear forever. That I needed to learn to listen and learn, again. To understand. To actually be the kind of scientist I always wanted to be."

 They sat there for a while, Benrey laser-focused on Gordon's arm, a few stray orbs of sweetvoice remaining in the air between them as he eventually closed his mouth.

 "I did a good... thing? By being- uh, me?", Benrey eventually stuttered out, still gently holding Gordon's arm in his hands. 

 Gordon nodded.

 "No one told you to apologize to me after everything - even when I told you not to worry- but you did so anyway and on your own accord. Not to mention you are actively helping me heal physically since the moment you guys found me."

 He reached over, resting his hand on Benrey's knee.

 "You may not be human, Benrey... but you are a person who tries to make up for the things they fucked up. And that's a good thing, in my book."

 Benrey's brows were furrowed as he slowly nodded.

 "I'm.... n-not a bad guy? All the time?"

 "You're a menace with Gremlin energy at worst, at this point."

 That made Benrey snort, Gordon laughing softly in return. 

 "Uh, feed me snacks 24/7 and I'll be the greatest cool!", Benrey added with a grin.

 "That's not how Gremlins work!", Gordon wheezed, moving his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep himself from breaking out into loud laughter.

 "Only got the energy, bro. Am not small or fuzzy... right now."

 Gordon slowly sat up, intrigued by the implications of those last two words. He opted to sit cross-legged, radiating curiosity and excitement as his hand was drumming away on his thigh.

 "Shapeshifting... Shapeshifting!! Okay, okay! Tell me when I get too personal with my questions but... uh... you can change your appearance not just in size? Holy shit man, that's... that's WILD!"

 Benrey stared at Gordon with wide eyes for a second, taken off-guard by the man's excitement for his more out-there powers. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously - something he had observed Gordon doing sometimes and added to his own mannerisms. 

 "Yeah, uh, character creation ain't perma-locked. Can access that anytime I want. Makes me tired when I do it too much... but it's cool.", he said, then looking somewhat unsure- "Would you... be a big cool with me doing that? Around here? SMALL WAYS! N-No big Benny. Just... feel comfy here. To do that, I mean."

 Gordon smiled at that, reaching over to place a hand on Benrey's shoulder. 

 "Dude, as long as you don't go full horror and accidentally scare the shit out of any of us, go ahead. I don't know... what you have in mind with "small ways"... but I am curious, so... go ham."

 "You sure? Is right now okay?"

 "Uh... if you want, yeah!"

 Gordon was about to remove his hand to give Benrey some space, but within the blink of an eye Benrey's hands looked... almost paw-like. His fingertips ended in dull claws, while the skin on his hands had a slight gradient to them, reminding Gordon of the ever-present shadow on Benrey's face. He let out a soft gasp-

 "Holy SHIT?!- Let me see?? Can I touch them?"

 "Huh? Ain't nothing fancy, but sure."

 Gordon mirrored Benrey's previous gentleness with his arm as he now carefully took one of Benrey's hands (paws?) in his own.

 "Wow...", Gordon breathed, slowly turning it over-

"HOLY FUCK YOU HAVE BEANS????? PAW BEANS?"

 Benrey let out a crackle at that but nodded. 

 "Sometimes, 'cause it makes stuff easier. Climbing and holding shit and all that. Got that perfect gamer grip."

 "..."

 Benrey tilted his head at Gordon's sudden silence. 

 "Uh... ?"

 Gordon looked up from staring at Benrey's hand, the biggest smirk on his face. 

 "So... you got paw beans."

 "Y-Yeah?"

 "Which means you also have toe beans-"

 "What you talking about Feetm-"

 "Beanrey."

 "Wha-"

 "BEANREY!"

 "NO!", Benrey exclaimed through already starting to laugh, as Gordon fell back on the futon wheezing, barely managing out a "YES!" in reply.

[honeyctzen]

domesticated - kd

genre: smut, petplay

warnings: kitten!play, dom!doyoung, oral (male recieving), unprotected sex, spanking 

words: 4.4k

The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.

Even the night you met he was like this.

In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.

After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.

The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.

‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.

‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.

‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’

‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.

‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.

A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.

Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.

Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.

After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.

‘What?’

‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.

‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.

‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’

‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.

‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.

Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.

A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.

Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.

You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’

Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.

‘Naughty kitten punished.’

With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’

‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.

‘I don’t like that sentiment.’

‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.

‘Well?’

‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.

‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s your call, princess.’

‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.

‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.

‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtedly, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.

You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.

Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.

Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.

‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.

You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.

His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.

‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.

Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.

‘My good kitten.’

A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.

You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.

‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.

He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.

The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.

‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.

‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.

A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.

‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.

‘One.’

Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.

‘Two.’

Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

‘Three.’

Another.

‘Four.’

Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.

‘Five.’ You croaked.

You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.

Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.

‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.

‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.

‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.

‘Sure?’

‘Do it.’

Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.

‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’

‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.

‘Want me? To do what?’

‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.

With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.

Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.

His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.

A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.

‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.

[awenvs3000]

Your Right to the Outdoors

     Wondering how privilege could possibly impact your ability to get outdoors? Head over to Pixabay and search for any of the following keywords: camping, backpacking, skiing, rock climbing, hiking, or canoeing.  What do you see? Something like this?

A group of skiers and snowboarders on a lift in Austria.  Photo by Gerard DM, via Pixabay.

Or this?

A group of hikers in the Pyrenees mountains. Image by Huche, via Pixabay.

Or maybe this?

Four kayakers, enjoying the outdoors.  Photo by Dimitri Svetsikas, via Pixabay.

     These images may seem like no big deal, they’re just people enjoying being outside, right? I mean, I look at these photos and see people that look just like me: white, young, fit, and able to afford expensive gear.  However, this is not an adequate representation of everyone who is interested in these activities, and directly demonstrates the history of gatekeeping and whitewashing the outdoors.

     Unfortunately, this specific royalty-free photo source is not the only place where this is evident; exclusively white people doing outdoor activities is easily seen in ad campaigns across countless outdoor retailers.  In fact, Mountain Equipment Co-op (MEC) came under fire in 2018 after years of hiring almost exclusively young, fit, white models for their ads.  

A compilation of previous ads run by MEC – it is not difficult to see their idea of what nature enthusiasts should look like. Photo by MEC, via Global News.

     Privilege, or advantages that specific people are given over marginalized groups, largely due to their race, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, religion, gender, etc. is often invisible to those who benefit from it.  For example, I am a straight-passing white woman, and I have never felt like I am invading spaces not meant for me.  I have never been turned away because of my race or my physical appearance, I do not face disproportional rates of violence, the list goes on.  None of these are true for me because I had any say in the matter, they are innate advantages that I have out of sheer luck.  I recognize that many people are not as inherently lucky as I am, and this is especially true when it comes to inclusivity in outdoor activities.

     Even here in Canada there is a significant issue with discrimination in the workplace.  A recent study confirmed that visible minorities are more likely to have a harder time getting a job than an equally-qualified white person (Quillian et al., 2019). How does this relate to nature interpretation, you may ask?  Aside from the fact that the campaigns of many prominent outdoor-centric companies perpetuate the myth that nature is exclusively for white people (effectively shunning people of colour from these spaces), getting a job in any outdoorsy field is clearly affected by your race.  Therefore, many nature interpretation-oriented jobs are (absolutely unfairly) essentially catered to white people.  

MEC made a statement following the backlash that they faced with a new pledge on inclusivity, via MEC.

     Although some people may be uncomfortable discussing race, you cannot claim to care about diversity without acknowledging and addressing the internal biases (be it towards race, sexual orientation, body image, etc.) that we all carry, and that is reflected by frequent campaigning and advertisement of who should be allowed to enjoy the natural world.

     I implore you to ponder whether your physical appearance or identity had a role in helping you get to where you are today.  It certainly did for me, and that is something that I recognize and am passionate about helping to end.   Do you think that using more diverse models in prominent ad campaigns is enough to combat the history of racial gatekeeping?

Thanks for reading!

References:

Dimitri Svetsikas. (2017). ‘Kayakers’ [Digital Image]. Pixabay. https://pixabay.com/photos/canoe-kayak-sport-kayaking-canoeing-2385207/

Fida, K. & Jeffrey, A. (2018). ‘Outdoor retailer MEC apologized for whitewashing ads – and nature enthusiasts agree’. Toronto Star. https://www.thestar.com/edmonton/2018/10/23/outdoor-retailer-apologizes-for-whitewashing-ads-and-nature-enthusiasts-agree.html

Gerard DM. (2016). ‘Skiers and Snowboarders in Austria’ [Digital Image]. Pixabay. https://pixabay.com/photos/ski-lift-skiing-ski-skis-snowman-1201084/

Huche. (2019). ‘Hikers in the Pyrenees Mountains’ [Digital Image]. Pixabay. https://pixabay.com/photos/bouleste-pyr%C3%A9n%C3%A9es-mountain-snow-3903496/

MEC. (2018). ‘Ad Campaigns’ [Digital Image Compilation]. Global News. https://globalnews.ca/news/4583551/mec-advertising-diversity-inclusion/

MEC (2018). ‘Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’ [Digital Screencap]. MEC. https://www.mec.ca/en/explore/diversity-equity-and-inclusion

Quillian, L. et al. (2019). ‘Do some countries discriminate more than others? Evidence from 97 field experiments of racial discrimination in hiring’. Sociological Science. https://sociologicalscience.com/articles-v6-18-467/ 

Small, K. (2018). ‘MEC CEO addresses lack of diversity, inclusion in advertising’. Global News. https://globalnews.ca/news/4583551/mec-advertising-diversity-inclusion/

[almondharry]

you look so good: four

you look so good — [10.1k]

She should’ve stayed at the library.

She should’ve gone home.

She should’ve gone to a coffee shop.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” His eyes did not part from the novel cracked open in front of him. His nose wiggled when he found a particular line amusing. An awkward beat passed and Genevieve was at a loss of words. “Have you become a statue? Do I need to unfreeze you?”

She should’ve gone anywhere, but here.

Part Four: The Markov Theorem

The Markov Theorem

November 3, 2016

“You’re staring.” Genevieve noticed without looking up. A pen pressed tightly to paper, runny swirls of leaky blue ink stained the page.

Her neck was stiff, like age old wood, bent like an archer’s bow. The only time she blinked was to copy a specific formula needed from her textbook—situated strategically to her right. Her iced coffee had condensation lined around the plastic to-go cup, the beads came together to pool in a ring on the library table. She was running late and skipped on grabbing a napkin. It was full to the brim, not a sip had been taken. Time slipped through her fingers like playground sand. The answers were due at the beginning of her next lab, t minus twenty minutes. The clicking of calculator keys was the loudest sound in the room, apart from the coughing radiator.

He looked on in slight terror, but mostly amusement, at the rate her pen skimmed over her notepad. He found it a bit odd that she preferred to use grid lined paper than regular. He remembers her starting at the top left corner of the page, he had turned around for a minute to plug the thick cord of his laptop charger into an outlet, and when he turned back she was already past the middle.

Futile attempts were made to decode the numbers and letters scribbled in her path. The page resembled a bowl of alphabet soup, letters and numbers swimming together. He gave up all too soon when he felt the beginnings of a headache. The only thing he took away is that she looped her two’s.

Her penmanship captured an urgency. The once pin straight numbers became more and more italicized, as if they sprinted to chase a bus that slowly drove away. His line of sight started from the tip of her pen to the escaped wiry strands of hair from her ponytail, and lastly, to the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip. A skittish frenzy bounced in her eyes behind the square frames. An impression of a mad scientist, he thought. They rest on the apple of her cheeks and slide down the bridge of her nose at a sloth’s pace.

“Crazy,” he said after observing her for another second. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile quirked at the end of his lips. “Absolutely insane.”

“A bit looney,” she hummed. Her lips pursed and they both knew it was a poor effort to hide a grin.

“Little obsessive.”

“Quite dull.”

“Completely mad.”

“Oh, most definitely mad,” Genevieve settled. Her pen paused its dance and her hand reached to push her frames up to finally look across. He was already staring at her, his grin widened to a size that can span out acres worth of empty land.

It was something they did, a harmless game of bickering adjectives that goes back and forth between them like an intense ping pong match. It was a childish way of name calling and poking fun. Their legs were a comfortably tangled mess, hidden by the smooth wooden desk, but his knee would knock against her shin every once in a while.

Genevieve sighed, “Now, are we done discussing your outstanding qualities or—”

“—Remarkably clumsy,” He added on abruptly. Genevieve knew he preferred to get the last word in.

She paused. “—Oh, you’ve still got a few then.”

“No,” he laughed through his nose, the corner of his lips twitched like he knew something she didn’t. His eyes squinted and gleamed like a reflection does in a fresh puddle after rain.

“Then?”

“There’s…” Genevieve heard blinds being tampered with across the room, soon something is sliding against a metal rod. A flash of yellow is thrown at them like a bucket of splattered paint. His pupils slowly dilated to accommodate the sudden change of lighting, and Genevive decided then that she would want to see that happen once more. Tiny dust particles floated up and waltzed together as their skin warms. His index finger gestures towards his face. “You’ve… nevermind.”

He dismissed with a quick wave when her brows curled inwards in soft curves.

Genevieve gave him a look, wary and doubting.

Their table was pressed up against a wall. It had a bookshelf that once was seeded at ground level, but now has branched out and up the ceiling, only stopping once the plaster slopes into a curved, dome-like ceiling.

He busied himself by trailing the tips of his digits over worn out spines. Genevieve watched his lips part to gently mouth words. He silently recited a title of interest to himself under his breath. His pointer finger curled into a pirate’s hook and attaches itself to pull a hardcover from its slumber.

He kept a list of unread books he planned to read, she pondered if this one would make it.

There was a way—a careful cradle, a light touch— that came so easily to him when he held a book between his fingers. It was as natural as sunlight and brought a distinct warmth to her bones. He regarded every page with a keen consideration, a dip sat between his brows from his concentrated frown. But it was after some flipping that the pad of his finger hovered over a particular sentence. Genevieve wondered if the same arrangement of words were to be on her skin, would he touch her with the same tenderness.

That’s when something shifted for Genevieve, a twig snaps. The air, once crisp, goes stale and dormant. The tip of her tongue stung and she tasted copper behind her clenched teeth.

She doesn’t know how to define this variable. It’s part mixture of guilt and shame that pricks her spine. Her brain feels like a ball of yarn, tangled. She tried to unravel the string in hopes to understand where this is coming from. How could she reach such an irrational conclusion? She looked across the table one last time, to remind herself that the statistical probability remains zero.

She pressed her lips together and stood up from her seat, it’s wooden legs screech against the floor. “I’ve got to go.”

She tucked her notebook, pen, and calculator in her bag. She almost lost the grip on the calculator slider. Her hands, shifty and restless, trembled from wound up nerves. The strap of her bag sunk into her shoulder. She hadn’t taken more than three steps away from the table before another set of wooden legs sounded.

“Wait,” he called out.

Genevieve glanced to her wrist, the second hand slowly crawling towards the twelfth digit.

“Yeah?” She turned around, eyes still on her wrist watch, an inquisitive pinch between brows.“Gotta be quick or else I’ll be late”

“You’re…” His strides made up for the lost distance. She was hyper aware of the heat his body brings forth. “Come here.”

It was a gravitational pull, she neared him like waves hit the shore. With half a step, she is the closest to him she will ever get. Genevieve inhaled a strong scent of pine needles. It mixed with lingering whiskey and mouthwash. She takes whatever she can with him.

“Hold still,” he instructed tentatively.

Her head angled up, a strain knotted at the back of her neck. But all sense of unease evaporates when he raised his hand and cupped her jaw. A careful cradle, a light touch.

Genevieve doesn’t move—she can’t move. Her arms and legs were dead weight. The neurons attached to her face where his skin meets hers are flamed. Everything was in overdrive, her heightened awareness only furthered this torture. She watched his gaze zeroed in on her parted lips. A focused and determined stare locked on to the bottom half of her profile.

His thumb, previously settled on her cheek, teetered towards the corner of her mouth. The tension was like pulling both ends of an elastic band. The rubber stretched at a snail’s pace. The tension grew, the band thinned.

Tiny ridges in the skin of his thumb were felt as he pressed it down on her bottom lip. He gradually dragged it from one corner to the center, each second felt like an hour. Her lip wobbled with the pressure.

“There,” he said easily.

The elastic snapped.

He removed his hand from her. The pad of his thumb is coloured a deep blue like he had given his fingerprint for a passport. Genevieve’s eyes widened and her fingers immediately touch her mouth, trying to press the feeling there forever. Her lip, caged behind teeth, tasted bitter like a potent chemical—residual ink. “All good.”

Good. Good. Good.

He stepped back and her lungs take in a breath through her nose. It was much easier to breathe when he stood in his respective bubble and didn’t steal her oxygen. Or sanity.

The reality was, if he asked for either, she would present it on a golden platter.

***

November 8, 2019

The fourth floor of the library was something else really. In the corner, a girl sobbed as she clutched the grade of her failed midterm. Another girl stared off into space for more than twenty minutes, going through an existential crisis of some sorts. A boy opened his textbook to do a question then shut it promptly two minutes later, only to open his laptop to change his major. It was a help centre for math related inquiries. Computers lined in two neat rows and a couple circular tables were occupied with graduate students tutoring students with appointments and the occasional walk-ins.

A student slowly dragged their feet on the carpet walking towards the front desk. Their eyes glazed over in a zombie like fashion; the coffee mug in hand and eye bags were this season’s hottest look.

“Hi.” Genevieve smiled. “What can I do for you?”

The first year girl wore a hoodie a size too big for her. “I need to book a study room for my group. Is there any available?”

“One minute.” Genevieve spun, the wheels on the chair pulled towards the administrative computer. Trained fingers typed their login and password, before a scheduled calendar popped up. “How many people are you looking for? And would you like a tutor with you?”

The girl mentally counted the people in her head. “I think there are four of us, and a tutor won’t be needed.”

Genevieve scrolled through the previous bookings with her mouse. Different colours blocked out specific periods until a vacancy popped up. “The next open slot is in fifteen minutes. Floor twelve, room nine. It’s available for two hours, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, that will be just fine.”

For a second, the sound of keyboard typing filled the hole in the conversation. “Can I get a student ID number?”

The girl presented her university issued card. Genevieve copied the numbers before finishing the booking. “That’s it, you’re good to go.”

The girl mumbled her thanks and dragged her feet towards the elevator.

Between the diner and her lectures, Genevieve had found herself at the library more often than she’d like to admit. This eventually lead her to pick up a part time position as the front desk help.

People would either come up to schedule bookings for study groups, tutors, or a computer. Professors of the mathematical science’s department held their office hours in certain rooms, so maintaining a strict schedule was key to avoid overlap. Dr. Bida, a professor she had done research with during her first year, always smiled brightly and waved whenever he passed by. The pay was great, the tasks were minimal, and it gave her the opportunity to do her course readings when it was particularly dead.

“Zayn, what the fuck are you talking about?” The faint voice travelled from a distance away. Genevieve’s ears perk up from the familiarity. “I’m completely lost.”

“Okay, how about one way ANOVA? You must have done that by now at this point of the semester.” Genevieve knew it compared the means between groups and determines whether any of those means are statistically significantly different from each other. Specifically, it tested the null hypothesis: where µ is the group mean and k is the number of groups. “Does that ring any bells?”

“Maybe, I don’t know?”

“Please tell me you know what the acronym stands for at least.”

“Nope. Nothing. I’m blank.”

“Really?”

“I’m dead serious.” Angie’s words held no comic relief. “When I told you I needed help with this course, I really meant it.”

“And you tell me this a day before your assignment is due.”

“Sorry! I got the dates mixed up, honest mistake.” Angie’s voice squeaked as she neared the end of her sentence. The voices became clearer and clearer as they stepped from behind the wall. “Why did you ask to meet here anyway? We could’ve done this at yours.”

“No we need—” Zayn didn’t get to finish his train of thought. His words cut abruptly like a slice of sponge cake under a steak knife. “—Gen? Is that you?”

Genevieve’s neck snapped up at the mention of her name, her eyes owlish. She was guilty of listening in on their back and forth, but wasn’t sure if their friendship had reached a point where she could freely insert herself into the conversation, so she had kept her head down to her books.

“Gen! I didn’t know you worked here!” Angie exclaimed marching over to the desk, Zayn in tow. Genevieve smiled, a genuine one, not the one she had in her back pocket for the sake of customer service. “Holy shit, this must be a great job!”

“You’ll find me here more than anywhere.” Angie played with the free pens and sticky notepads that advertised the university’s logo. She almost tipped over the brochures about managing mental health with a full course load. “What brings you guys here?”

Zayn hissed in pain. “Don’t ask—” but it was too late.

The back of Angie’s palm hit her forehead.

“A horrendous tragedy,” she moaned with her eyes shut. Faux grief made her lips tremble. Though sadness transformed her face, a bitter scowl soon tugged at the end of her lips. “You know apparently I have a thirty percent assignment due tomorrow? Like a whole thirty percent. And I found out yesterday.”

“Ouch,” Genevieve sympathized.

“It’s your fault for not going to the lectures and sleeping in.”

“Zayn, who’s side are you on?” Angie challenged. He dodged her attempts at giving him a twisting pinch to the ribs. “Anyway, Z here has taken the course before so he’s being a sweetheart and lending his brain. Well, whatever is left of it anyway.”

“Angie, I’m helping you. If you don’t tone down your quips, I might as well put in the wrong answers on purpose and poof! That thirty percent of your grade will amount to a zero.”

Angie narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t try me.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with?” Angie faced Genevieve and motioned a limp hand towards Zayn. She resembled a bored weatherman with a greenscreen behind.

“Ignore her, Gen. Can we get a computer?”

“‘Course,” Genevieve laughed. “Do you need a tutor with you?”

“That would be a dream,” Angie added as she pulled her hair into a ponytail with the band wrapped around her wrist. “The more the merrier, you know! There’s strength in numbers.”

Zayn leaned his weight on the slab of counter in front of them and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s only an assignment, you’re not going off to war.”

“With the amount of torture I am enduring, I might as well.”

Zayn and Angie’s conversation went back and forth like a tennis match. Genevieve’s fingers robotically put in her login and password because the monitor had gone to sleep. Genevieve examined the calendar that popped up on her screen momentarily, her lips puckered in concentration. “You’re good for a computer, but I’m afraid the next tutor isn’t available for four hours.”

“Shit.” Angie rubbed her temple to ease her climbing stress.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for a lack of availability between tutors and students. Genevieve scanned the page in front of her once more to find any possible way to squeeze them in. Usually when an appointment was a no show, it was possible. But when the screen showed no cancelations, there was not much to do. “What course is it anyway?”

“It’s an intro course to stats.”

“Oh, I might know a few things about it here and there.” Genevieve clicked the x on her window and met Angie’s pleading gaze. The desperation in her eyes disappeared with her next words. “I’m here to help if you need it!”

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I had to take it first year, it was very straightforward.”

“Speak for yourself, I went to one lecture and felt like the prof had taken a baseball bat to my face.”

“I’m guessing you need the computer for the SPSS software?” Genevieve recalled they had one assignment in that course. The tricky software was already installed on campus computers, but cost a fortune if purchased individually. It made sense as to why they didn’t do it on their laptops.

Zayn piped up. “Yeah, there’s like a tonne of raw data to analyze. It’s gonna take a while.”

Genevieve nodded, already clearing her station. “Ah, well, I’m not doing much right now, I can take a look.”

“You’re an absolute angel, godsend!” Angie would’ve jumped over the desk to crush her in a hug if Genevieve hadn’t rolled back her chair to step around the table. She turned a small sign towards the middle of the desk. Ring bell for help.

Genevieve brushed off her thanks. “Oh I’m far from, just doing what I can. It’s no problem, really.”

Genevieve was making sure that her textbooks were shut and put away along with her expensive calculator when Angie started again. “This is what we need in our life! More selflessness! Everyone is so greedy now days, don’t you think? So noble of you. In fact, I’m gonna write your name down for the nobel prize for math!”

“That’s not how it works, Angie, but sure knock yourself out.” Zayn chewed his gum so slowly that his jaw flexed with each bite. “I think it’s not even called that. Right, Gen?”

“It’s called the Field's medal. It’s like the nobel prize, but it’s awarded every four years.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to. Same thing.” Angie shrugged and threw an arm over Genevieve’s shoulder when she was close enough.

Genevieve lead the duo to the assigned computer, their row was thankfully empty. The room was shared with two other students seated further away; with their headphones on, they seemed oblivious to the world. Angie logged into her account and Zayn took it from there. He sandwiched himself between Angie on his left and Genevieve on the right.

The chairs in the lab weren’t as comfy as the one Genevieve was previously seated on. Without a cushion, it was just hard blue plastic which made your behind sore.

Zayn double clicked the software icon. His screen filled with horizontal and vertical cells similar to excel. He split the screen, on one side there was SPSS and on the other there were instructions. He copy pasted the raw data assigned by the professor, numbers in the squares from A1 to G93 rolled in like a lottery machine.

“Okay let's sort this out,” he sighed under his breath. It was the most redundant part of the assignment. The variables needed to correspond correctly or else your analysis would not be fruitful.

Genevieve frowned, confusion pressed her brows together. People had different ways of doing things, and of course, there is no harm in that. But the more she observed Zayn’s cursor, she realized his approach was inefficient and clumsy. “Are you doing it manually?”

“Isn’t this the only way?”

“Nope, I can just plug in a few formulas to set the parameters and the software will pick up how we want it organized.”

“You’re kidding,” Zayn deadpanned. He turned to Genevieve with his mouth parted and eyes popped. “Last time, I hand sifted through pages and pages of data.”

“All 900 points?” Zayn nodded enthusiastically at Genevieve’s raised brow. “That must have taken hours. Here, let me show you.”

It went on like that. Zayn mainly lead the direction; Genevieve added in her two cents and supervised. Angie was busy picking her peeling gel nailpolish. There was a solid fifteen minutes where she put in effort, but her clicks ended up deleting two rows. Then a mutual agreement was reached that Angie fingers would remain far away from the mouse or keyboard. She was free to voice her concerns from a distance.

Genevieve sneaked a few glances at the front desk, but there was no one in dire need of help.

“Fucking hell,” Angie seethed in a hushed whisper. The way she jumped off her seat suggested someone lit a round of firecrackers under her chair. She darted to grab her bag and hold it in front of her face. Behind her disguise, her face twitched with fear and she slouched to make herself smaller. “What on God’s green Earth is she doing here?”

“Who?” Zayn said without peeling his eyes from the screen, used to her dramatics. Angie scampered underneath the empty space of their desk. It was remarkable how quickly she could get her body to fold into a fetal position. From her cramped place on the floor, Angie still had Zayn and Genevieve’s view.

“Don’t look now, but it’s Rebecca by the front.” As if it was a staged cue, their necks snapped towards the red head exiting off the elevator, in sync. She carried a binder with papers and a textbook topped it off. Rebecca had a phone pressed to the side of her ear as she spoke into the receiver. Angie’s advice was lost in thin air which resulted in her face contorting into a snarl. “I said don’t look, great, you’ve both made it painfully obvious now. Wonderful.”

“Who’s Rebecca?” Genevieve whispered as low she could.

“Angie’s ex.” Zayn informed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Zayn finally noticed Angie’s ridiculous hiding spot and a look of second hand embarrassment flushed his cheeks. “Get out from behind there, Angie, you look like a loon.”

“Is she gone?” Angie inquired.

“No.”

“Then I’m not coming out.”

“Great.” Zayn had learned how to pick and choose his battles with Angie. This was a time to let her be.

Genevieve felt like she had heard the thirty second trailer of the topic. It was difficult to string the beginning, middle, and end of the saga that seemed to be Angie’s relationship. “What happened between you guys?”

“She broke my heart, smashed it and then threw a party like nothing else happened. I caught her in bed with a first year and she said they were cuddling. Cuddling! Can you believe that?” Angie scoffed. She had taken a bite out of a chewy bar that she swiped from her bag. The plastic crinkled loudly in her fist. “I’d rather be left at the altar, it would’ve been less painful. The smugness of the first year didn’t help matters, went around campus gloating. Menace.”

“She fucked Angie over real bad. She had commitment issues and shit.”

“She didn’t fuck me over, Zayn. I’m plenty fine, can’t you see? I’m lovely, I’m—”

“—Hiding pathetically under a desk?”

“—great. Splendid, even. Perfectly intact.”

Zayn eyes were like a bowling ball going full speed down an empty ally. The mouse double clicked under his index finger as his attention diverted back to the task at hand. “Save your breath, you’re sounding more and more like Harry.”

“Why are you comparing me to him, have you gone mad? He was ten times worse than me.”

“I’m saying both of you are like kicked puppies. Moping and basking in your misery every second of the day. So what you lost someone, people come and go! That’s life!”

Angie scoffed again. Her competitive streak was bold and prominent and very visible. “Give me some credit, I’m much better at coping than Harry. He’s a complete mess, makes me look like an angel.”

“What do you mean?” Genevieve prompted, leaning forward. She chewed on the corner of her mouth. The skin was soon to be raw and agitated.

“When we first met Harry, he was a wreck. He doesn’t talk about it much but we assume he went through a nasty breakup of some sorts.”

Genevieve didn’t have experience with what hot flashes felt like, but she was sure this was it. The room was suddenly a couple degrees colder, but her skin was flaming hot. The warmth was most intense over her face, neck and chest. The tips of her fingers felt like she held onto ice cubes for a moment too long.

Genevieve ran her tongue over the dry cracks in her bottom lip. “Oh.”

Angie bit off another piece of her bar, a few crumbs falling from her mouth. If Genevieve was in a decent state of mind, the mind numbing hours of training videos would’ve reminded her to enforce the no food policy in the building. Instead, her tongue sat heavy in her mouth.

“He sulked for at least a year before getting over whoever it was, he won’t give us a name. I tried prying it out of him when he was sloshed, but he’s a stubborn little knob.”

The steady percussion of Genevieve’s heart raised in tempo. A dagger twisted in her gut which explained the sharp pain in her abdomen. The four walls of the room took gradual steps towards her. The space became limited, suffocating, and the oxygen was being slowly sucked away.

“But the difference between you and Harry is that he got over it! Whereas you, on the other hand, can’t get past the first stage of grief.”

“Stop talking, you sound more and more like my therapist. And I’m not paying you, so don’t get any ideas.” Angie narrowed her eyes at Zayn, then peered up at Genevieve with a sorry gaze. “If I got a dime for everytime Zayn psychoanalyzed me, I’d pay off my tuition and get a fancy bungalow in The Bahamas. Maybe even a minifridge. He thinks he’s the next Freud, don’t you?”

Zayn laughed. “Do you see what you’re doing? Deflecting the actual problem.”

“Oh come off it! Less talking and more doing my assignment, chop, chop! It won’t finish itself, you know?”

“While I’m here slaving away, would you like to tack on any more insults, Your Highness?”

“Now that you mention it….”

Gen exhaled in hopes to loosen the winding nerves in her shoulders and chest. Her eyes focused on the digital clock at the bottom right hand corner of the monitor. “You guys good with this? I’m gonna run to the loo then head home since my shift ends in five.”

“Thanks so much for doing this, Gen. Absolute lifesaver,” Angie dropped her teasing in a second. A soft smile spoke of her gratitude with great conviction.

“No worries, text me if you need any more help.” Genevieve stood up from her chair. The sudden movement made her head dizzy. Her legs were as stable as jelly.

“Hope that won’t be necessary, but go ahead and feed your number just in case, you know? Zayn isn’t the brightest bulb at times.”

“I’m not the brightest bulb? Are you listening to yourself? You haven’t touched the keyboard once!” Zayn snapped his eyes over to Genevive as she handed back Angie’s phone. An exasperated rage glossed his features. His hair pointed a million different directions from the countless times he ran his fingers through it. “Gen, get out while you can or else you won’t get another chance.”

“You guys are too much,” Genevieve chuckled shaking her head. “I’ll see you around.”

Genevieve’s bladder wasn’t the reason behind her brisk steps towards the toilets. She needed to splash her face with ice cold water to balance out her temperature. It was overwhelming, to say the least. All the information thrown at her needed time to come down to a simmer, currently, it was bubbling at an all time high and slipping over the edge.

Her fingers pressed to the polymer of the salmon coloured sink. The skin under her nails turned paper white from the pressure of her weight. Her breaths were laboured, so she shut her eyes tightly and steadied all the possibilities her mind was running to.

A flush sounds loudly. The high pitched noise dwindles when the tank is refilling. A lock turned and out comes the click click click of tall heels.

“Genny? Is that you?”

“Hannah?” Migraine Morton wore a tight leather skirt that did wonders for her legs, which of course were covered in fake tan. She waved her manicured hands under the sink, the sensors blinked a blue light and water rushed out of the tap. “How are you?”

“It’s been forever, you’ve changed so much! And look at those cheekbones, you look straight off the runway.” She ripped paper towels from the dispenser. The colour becoming a dark brown as it soaked the water off of her. “It’s the Keto Diet, isn’t it? It’s been working for so many of my girlfriends, but I can’t get even keep five pounds off. Anyway, how’s everything?”

The way she tilted her head assumed that they were lifelong friends who spoke everyday. That wasn’t the case whatsoever. The most Hannah knew about Genevieve was from a boy that once connected them. They probably qualified as acquaintances rather than friends on facebook. But Hannah had a knack for befriending anything with a living pulse—fucking too, if you listened to the gossip on campus.

“Yeah, it’s been going well! Lectures, the diner, bouncing back everywhere.”

“It’s… it’s good to keep yourself busy, you know.” Hannah’s tone transformed into that of a sympathetic one. It probably came from a good place. But when her brows crumpled together, Genevieve wanted the ground to swallow her whole.“I know how hard it must be after...”

“I’m actually doing alright.” Genevieve smiled, an on command customer service grin.

“It’s just when I heard, I thought you would be absolutely devastated! I mean, who wouldn’t be right?” Hannah twirled a stupid blond lock of hair around her pointer finger. “Both of you were always joined at the hip”

“People learn to let go. It’s only natural.”

Hannah’s face morphed into one thought provoking one, as if Genevieve’s words were a part of some philosophical theory.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right!” By her face, you would assume that clouds had parted and a beam of light shone down. This revelation was probably the first and last of the century for her. “Do you remember Amanda Wang? From first year sociology? How we were inseparable? Well she literally disappeared off the Earth and I haven’t heard from her. Just between us though, she was a bit of a pretentious bitch.” Hannah smacked her glossy lips. The shine seemed sticky and too bubblegum. “Of course, there’s no comparison to be made between our situation, you knew him for years.”

“Yeah,” Genevieve answered weakly.

“Shit I’m sorry!” Her eyes widened as she registered what she said, palms coming up in defence. Her brain had a tendency to lag a couple steps behind. It was always a few seconds too late. “I’m not making things any better. That probably sounded really daft.”

“It’s all good.”

Hannah threw away her used paper towel. She hiked her purse in the crook of her elbow. “Keep hanging in there girlie, it gets better!”

“Don’t I know it!”

She reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, Genny! You’re still the jokester as ever! I’ve got to run off to my next lecture, but it was nice seeing you! Don’t be a stranger, we should meet up again! Text me!”

“See you, Hannah!” Genevieve grinned, fake and compulsory.

She wiggled her fingers, like a main character of some cheesy 2000’s movie, and clicked off.

Genevieve’s palms held her face as she tried her utmost best to not scream from frustration. There was one thing clear as day, she had to get away from the library. All the Harry talk, all the Hannah talk, was only depleting the count of her brain cells. She needed them to finish her untouched module. There were fifty questions. At one glance, she knew they would suck her soul.

Genevieve grabbed her coat and bag from her desk. The person who was assigned the next shift was signing on the computer to punch in their hours. She waved a quick goodbye and pressed the button to the elevator.

Her car returned from the shop. After a hefty oil change and the addition of four winter tires, it was safe to drive. Her seats were frozen so she turned on her engine and blasted the heat. In turn, the radio automatically switched on to the station set as the number one setting.

Liam: —That was Strangers you just heard by The Bell. I’ve been listening to them quite a bit, they’re bound to play stadiums soon, you can take my word. Now it is time for my personal favourite segment of the show. Usually it’s you guys listening in, but I’d thought we better switch it up! This is Listen Liam! Where you tell me what’s going on in your life and maybe I can offer an ear. You’re on the air.

Caller: Liam! I am in a bit of a pickle.

Liam: I’m all ears, go on!

Caller: I think my friend has a drinking problem. She went so overboard last night that she started chewing her bare foot thinking it was a piece of meat! She’s vegan! How is that even possible?!

Liam: [Laughs] Now, that has got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard all week. We all have a friend that’s like that. I’ve got Niall. Blonde, loud, talks a lot. You heard of him?

Caller: I think he was in one of my lectures.

Liam: Great! As soon as I think something is going iffy with one of my friends I just compare them to Niall. If they’re worse than him, I’m rushing to the closest rehab. If not, all is well!

Caller: That actually puts so much into perspective. Thanks Liam!

Liam: Always here for help! Thank you for your call. Our next song is very fitting, Here is Drunk in Love by the Legend herself.

Genevieve didn’t know she was in the parking lot of Liam’s radio station until she put her gear in park. If she couldn’t get peace in the library, the next resort was the couch generously offered to her on numerous occasions. Liam was only found here at wee hours in the night since he did night radio. Today was one of those odd days his show was on during the day—the same time she needed a place to study. It all seemed destined.

The architecture building was all points and sharp edges. The drop in quality design amplified as soon as she hit the basement. No longer was there fancy glass and shiny mirrors. The tiles on the floors were unevenly aligned and she didn’t want to analyze the yellow mold dripping down the side of one wall. She passed a custodian’s quarters, and in the corner was a door with a makeshift sign announcing the station’s territory.

Liam leaned against the wall beside the shut door. One of his foot was over the other. His phone glued to the side of his face. “Yes, yeah that apartment is no longer available.”

His eyes snapped up at the sound of her shoes against the floor. He grinned. Genevieve gave an excited wave as she walked further down the hallway and his eyes brightened.

“No, unfortunately,” he continued to mumble into the receiver.

When she got close enough, she could hear an angry accent blaring through his phone. Liam rolled his eyes and spoke into the receiver once more. “I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do.”

He pointed towards the door beside him, motioning to go inside. His phone call was probably going to take him a minute to sort out. Hopefully, he had queued up a couple songs to avoid a dead line.

Genevieve walked into the humble space, the door shut gently behind her by Liam.

There were two parts to the room. On the right side was a booth, the cramped size meant it was most likely used as a supply closet. All the equipment was squished in there. A computer sat on an ikea table and a foldable picnic chair did little to compliment it. It was a mess of wires and stray headphones lay lifelessly.

Adjacent to it was the second half of the room. A worn out rug was cut up on the floor to fit the small space. Then there was the infamous pissed on couch. The quality implied it was from the goodwill down the block. It’s ancient floral pattern proved it was previously owned by someone in their 60’s. On one end of the couch, a head of dark chestnut hair rested against the arm.

She should’ve stayed at the library.

She should’ve gone home.

She should’ve gone to a coffee shop.

Now looking at the sight in front of her, the possibilities were endless.

When Genevieve was twelve, she was sure she had lived through the worst day of her life. It was in Mrs. Webster’s afternoon math class. She hadn’t been keeping up with doing her homework. And Mrs. Webster picked on her to answer a simple multiplication question scratched on the board. She blurted out the first number that came to mind— two.

The whole class hollered with laugher and she sunk down in her assigned chair with red cheeks. Sixty-eight multiplied by nine was never, ever, two. If only she had made an educated guess and gave a number that wasn’t a single digit, she wouldn’t have seemed like a complete loser.

That night she went home and reviewed the chart of times table and made sure it was burned in the back of her eyelids.

The multiplication table, the public humiliation, and the sight in front of her was ingrained deeply in a part of her brain she would never voluntarily revisit.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” His eyes did not part from the novel cracked open in front of him. His nose wiggled when he found a particular line amusing. An awkward beat passed and Genevieve was at a loss of words. “Have you become a statue? Do I need to unfreeze you?”

He laid horizontally on the couch. The length of his legs —spread out across the cushions— shrunk the size of the furniture, making it seem smaller than it actually was. He propped his head on a folded arm, a makeshift pillow.

“You’re here.” Their disagreement from before was still a fresh wound. The alcohol aided her bravery last time, but now without its push, Genevieve wondered if he took those words to heart. She didn’t know where they stood. “Yet again.”

“I am.” He closed the book after folding a dog ear at the top right hand corner. His neck craned to look towards where she stood. “Hello to you, too.”

Genevieve clutched the strap of her bag. She noticed there was no resentment in his voice. “How… what are you doing here?”

“Liza’s show just finished up, I’m usually here for it. The million dollar question is, what made you decide to grace us with your presence on this fine Tuesday?”

She blinked quickly as panic flushed up her neck. She had to be tactical about her response. Admitting to needing a study space was the cheese at the end of a mouse trap. She didn’t want to trap herself in a room with Harry for God knows how long. Her day had gone through enough loops and twists and Genevieve wanted to get off the rollercoaster. She had to get out of here. “I came to drop off something for Liam, but I’ll get going.”

Genevieve turned around to grip the doorknob, but before she could twist it, Harry spoke up. “What is it?”

“Hm?” She asked looking over her shoulder. He sat upright, the book of his interest was now face down on his lap. He wore a simple black shirt, a red flannel was unbuttoned over it.

“The thing you were here to drop off.”

“Yeah, oh, I um, already gave it to him.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question.”

“It was a...” she mulled through an imaginary list of objects to fit this scenario.

When she took a minute too long, a knowing smile quirked his lips. “Lying isn’t a good look on you.”

She scoffed. “I’m not lying, Harry.”

“Yes you are and it’s written all over your face.” He pointed it out like a simple observation as if saying the sky is blue, birds fly, and Genevieve lies. “You do that thing when one part of your mouth is higher than the other and you avoid eye contact.”

The swinging door almost knocked her out from the sudden force. She dodged it just in time. It was a hair’s length distance away from breaking her nose. Her eyes widened in shock. Harry mouthed karma.

“Shit, Gen.” Liam stumbled in. “Why are you standing so close to the door? You alright?”

“Was actually leaving.”

Liam’s brows creased. “Rubbish, you just got here. You’re definitely staying for longer. I was thinking of popping to that pretzel shop right beside to get myself something to chew on. Which one do you want?”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Liam looked over Genevieve’s shoulder. “Harry?”

“Anything, as long as it’s not super sweet.”

“You got it.” Liam nodded and gave a gleaming smile his way. “And you—” Liam turned to Genevieve with a pointed finger, it didn’t hold much authority “—Better not be gone until I’ve come back or else I’ll be very cross. I mean it, don’t even think about it.”

Genevieve huffed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What am I even supposed to do here in the meantime? Queue up songs for you? I’ll play the Highschool Musical soundtrack for your listeners and soon there won’t be any left.”

“I’ve already got that taken care of. Don’t you have a mountain worth of coursework? Get a start on that.”

Genevieve felt like she was reaching into a magician's black hat and pulling out a rabbit. But in her case there were no furry animals, only poorly threaded excuses. “I… I don’t have my calculator or any pens or—”

Liam shuffled into the booth. His back curved as he bent over the desk. A cylinder container was situated at the corner beside the workplace lamp. It was sparsely filled with a couple highlighters, paperclips, and a single pen.

He plucked the utensil quickly before handing it to Genevieve. “Here, use this. I think I may have my finance calculator in my bag. It should have the same functions.”

The pace of everything slows down as the cheap plastic rolled between her thumb and forefinger. It was a classic blue BIC pen, the type offices bought in bulk to save money.

There is a reason why Genevieve only used black inked pens. Every time she saw blue on paper, she felt his thumb on her lip. It was too distracting, like a herd of bees buzzing collectively around her in threatening circles. Multiple stingers pierced nostalgia deep into her arms, legs, shoulders, lips. Her skin broke and red painful bumps erupted. Her chest tightened and her throat clamped shut.

“Gen, Gen? You alright?” Liam squeezed her forearm and Genevieve woke from her trance.

“Hm?”

“You became really pale.”

She cleared her throat to delay her response. “Um… I—can’t. I don’t use blue pens. It’s just…” She knew she sounded delirious. Though her left hand was fisted, the slight tremor was not well hidden.

Liam’s inquisitive look wasn’t judgemental or contemptuous and for that she was thankful.

What differentiated Liam from others is that he understood without needing to know the details. He didn’t ask questions because he knew if Genevieve wanted to share, she would at her own time. Most often times, her lips were the zig zag teeth of zippers—tightly fastened—but he remained on the sidelines, patient. With one look he appraised her and knew this stemmed deep.

“I’ve got another,” Harry interrupted, making Genevieve’s neck turn towards him. She forgot for a moment that he was in the room. He waved a pencil in the air. The pink eraser on the end was salmon coloured and the tip was a bit rounded. It wasn’t a pen, but it would have to do.

“That settles it,” Liam concluded with a clap. “You’re staying.” There was no room to rebuttal. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone and pulled the door open. Liam was gone, only leaving a gust of wind in his departure.

Genevieve rubbed her palm over her face.

“I don’t bite, you know?” His tone was steady. “Being in a room with me isn’t as dreadful as you’re making it out to be.”

“Oh, it’s worse,” Genevieve mumbled under her breath, but it was drowned out by Harry’s backpack hitting the floor. The spot on the couch beside him was now vacant.

“We need to set boundaries.” It’s ironic for her to say this as she walked over to empty space he set aside for her.

The only other place left to sit was the floor, she didn’t need to add back problems to her list of already growing concerns. This list had Harry’s name at the very top in red ink; underlined, and multiple exclamation marks surrounded it. If it was anytime to acknowledge it, this was it, when he was an arms length away on the opposite side of the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“Like we need some parameters. Some sort of rules to abide by if you’re just gonna end up popping up everywhere.”

He laughed, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back like Genevieve was on stage behind a microphone at stand up night. It took a minute for his chuckles to dwindle down. Harry’s brows almost met his hairline when Genevieve’s face remained stoic. “Oh wait… you’re serious.”

“I’ll go first.” Genevieve distracted herself by pulling out her notebook and flipping to the last page she worked on. She picked up the pencil he dropped beside his thigh. It was easier to get her thoughts in order when she didn’t make eye contact with him.“We can’t let anyone know about how we know each other. I haven’t… haven’t told Liam, Meena or Niall about any of it and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“It’s not something to hide.”

“For me, it is.” Genevieve breathed out a sigh. Her back hit the cushion and she folded her legs underneath herself. “And from what I’m hearing from Angie and Zayn, they don’t know much either.”

“It just never came up so I didn’t bother.” Harry shrugged cracking the novel open to his marked page. “Alright, I'll give you that, only if you agree not to be so...”

His sentence was a loose piece of thread, floating freely. He purposefully let it dangle between them.

“Go on.” Genevieve tilted her head. “Finish your sentence.”

His face contorted as he tried to find the right word. A tongue poked the inside of his cheek.

“...Tense.”

Genevieve threw the pencil at Harry. The gesture is so natural that it startled her. It bounced off the side of his forehead with a clunk. His fingers rushed to apply pressure on the sore spot. His pink lips pouted.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned. He pretended as if Genevieve had chucked it at full force, when in reality it was a lousy throw, she had noodle arms. “I gave you that to use, not to assault me with.”

“I’m not tense.” Her jaw hung open in disbelief.

“Then it shouldn’t be a chore to agree to it.” Harry countered.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “It shouldn’t.”

The radio switched tracks, Liam’s queued up a song sounded softly in the silence. An acoustic guitar strummed in the background as Genevieve started a problem and Harry went back to his book.

He spread out his legs in front of him, his back moulded against the couch in a way that would leave him to complain about an ache in a couple of hours. Genevieve refrained from pointing it out.

Two songs finished and a pre-recorded ad played. The brief thirty seconds advertised the fundraiser a student group put together to raise funds for Angie Wu’s family. The next song started, an upbeat tempo and rhythm.

“Never thought I'd see the day you’d say no to pretzels.”

She didn’t realize she was nodding with the music until she stopped and turned her head towards him. She raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Those were your favourite.”

“Yeah, I’m just not hungry.”

“You were so crazy about them. I took one bag from the pantry and you bit my head off. How was I supposed to know it was yours?”

Genevieve’s eyes flickered down towards the cover in his hand. “Never thought I’d see you read something by Toni Morrison.”

“It was on the list.”

“You still have it? I thought it was lost.”

“I do, the bloody thing never ends. Just when you think you’ve gone through a big chunk, you flip the page and there’s more.” He peered over the top of the book at her. “I’ve went to the library enough times, they know my name without checking my card.”

Genevieve dotted an equal sign and then a row of numbers. She collected like terms and simplified the problem. “I tried looking for it everywhere in the flat. Spent two weeks.”

“Should’ve checked the car.” His voice was low, almost lost in with the music, but she heard it. A sad smile played on the ends of his lips as he flipped the page.

Genevieve noticed his adam’s apple rise and fall. There is a distant look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Harry’s lashes fluttered quickly, to blink away the memories playing in his mind. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Most of them are confusing as shit, don’t make sense. Feels like reading in circles, but so far I’ve liked four of them.”

“Yeah? How many have you gone through?”

Harry’s forehead scrunched in thought as he mentally counts the different titles, using his digits to keep track if needed. His lips—puckered in concentration— were red and bitten, yet appear feather soft.

“Not many, maybe nine?” His ring and middle finger scratched at his hairline, light bounced off the metal bands wrapped around his digits. His posture softened as a blush rose up his neck. “‘I'm a slow reader,” he admitted, his tone timid and bashful.

Genevieve’s eyes rolled involuntarily, a breathy laugh danced through her lips. “Oh, I know.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that you take two years to read a take out menu, always have.”

“It’s called browsing the options and specials.”

“Yet you order the same every time? Do explain.” Playful offence is threaded between them. It was starting to resemble the easy conversations they once shared over a cereal breakfast, lazy Sundays, in passing here and there. The smallest things they had taken for granted became a bitter recollection.

His throat grumbled in defeat. “Be nice.”

There were days where Genevieve wanted to put a halt to whatever distance they had carved from each other. Harry felt oceans away, but it would be cruel to put all the burden on him. Genevieve wasn’t standing there with warm welcoming arms either, she was rather stone cold.

They were dropped beads of a broken necklace, scattered on a tiled floor. The thread that joined them had snapped. There had been occurrences where Genevieve’s thumb hovered over his contact name, the number so old that she wasn’t sure if it still worked. She almost sent him a text, left a voicemail. She missed her friend, that wasn’t in question, but she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. He was to blame.

But there they were. Harry was still Harry. And Genevieve was Genny. Sure, his shoulders were slightly broader, his hair a bit shorter, and his posture more crooked. It was also okay that they weren’t the same. There was an awkward space that separated them, one that didn’t exist before because Harry would have had his arm thrown over her shoulders and her head would comfortably align with his chest.

“Is it—” Genevieve gulped loudly, hesitant as nerves circled her belly like sharks do the ocean. She twisted her sleeves in her palm before starting once more. She didn’t know if her request was intrusive or disrespectful in any way. She hoped it wasn’t. “Is it okay if I maybe take a look at it?”

Harry had found the list, so it belonged to him. Much like how Genevieve protected some photographs and a lighter with her life. It would be reasonable if his answer wasn’t what she was pulling for. He had ownership and the right to say no.

A pause followed, it made her sure that she was twisting knobs on locked doors. Harry’s face remained impassive. Had she not said it loud enough? Her limbs felt heavy and heat began to crawl up Genevieve’s face as she realized rejection wasn’t a reality far away, but it was rather staring her in the face.

Genevieve deflated when he nodded eagerly.

“‘Course, yeah. I’ll bring it around sometime.”

The door swung open and Liam came in clutching far too much than he could balance. A bag hung from between his chest and chin, there were three more in his hand. The paper wrinkled loudly as he moved. He shut the door behind him with the heel of his foot.

Genevieve shot a confused look at his small buffet.

“They just increased the student discount for these! Can you believe?”

***

November 15, 2019

Genevieve was a match burning at both ends. Sometimes it would be too much of a chore to step in the shower or brush her teeth. The smallest tasks that once would come so naturally now demanded significant energy. Sure, she could blame it to her course load, and juggling jobs at Flo’s and the student help desk. But she knew self care was pushed to the back burner way before any of that started—three years ago precisely.

Today, she opened the shared document on her computer.

A long needle injected into her spine; the pinch was sharp. Stress shot through every nerve ending when the cursor scrolled down the screen.

Group assignments did more harm than good, if only professors understood that. The assignment was to be done between four random people in her course. The groups were preselected and Genevieve didn’t know a single face. The dropbox to hand in the report closed at midnight. Currently, the fifteen page report only came up to three pages.

She tried to get hold of her remaining group members, but the group chat was only a string of messages from her end. The shower she planned to take was now an unaffordable luxury. She cracked her knuckles and began pulling the dead weight of three people.

Her phone buzzed, disrupting the quiet in her flat. She was so caught up in editing the null hypothesis she didn’t check the caller ID and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Genevieve?”

“Mum, hi,” Genevieve breathed out and the rush of air created static on the line.

“Are you in the middle of something? You sound busy.”

Genevieve skimmed over a research paper she wanted to reference. Her mouse copy pasted the citation. “Just doing an assignment last minute. I could throw up from the stress.”

“Baby, you need to take it easier, that is no way to live, no matter what deadline you’re under,” she scolded with gentle concern. Like always, it went through Genevieve’s ear and came out the other. “Anyway, I called because Sarah—the nice lady down the street—has started a donation drive for Syrian Refugees. I’m giving her your old clothes, is that alright?”

“The ones in boxes up in the attic?”

“Yes, if you need them I can—”

“No, give them away. I can’t remember the last time I wore them, it’s better they get some use out of them.” Genevieve selected two lines on the document. The words highlighted a sky blue, then she hit backspace.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Plus, it would clear up some space up there anyway.”

“Don’t go too intense with your cleaning, you get a bit kooky.” Genevieve giggled and pressed the phone between her shoulder and cheek. She continued her work on the laptop.

“There’s no harm in having a clean, tidy space!” Label makers and organizing bins got Margaret White more excited than any man. Spring cleaning happened quarterly at their residence. The attic was full of abandoned scrapbooks, VCR cassettes, old furniture, and her broken bicycle that had a neon pink basket. “While I was up there, I did find something.”

Genevieve smiled. “Did you cry to my elementary school pictures? Again?”

“Oh hush!” Genevieve pictured her crossed brows. Waterworks were in ample supply when taking a trip down memory lane with her mother, it was like forgetting to shut the water tap off. Genevieve found it amusing to poke fun at her for. “You still have a box of his stuff. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

The pause was deafening. The clicking of Genevieve’s fingers on the keyboard came to a definite halt. Her laptop screen became muddled as it went out of focus. She felt the back of her eyes sting as she recalled the specific box. She smelled August.

“Gen?”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Genevieve clutched the receiver with a sudden desperation. There was apparent sniffling on her end of the line. Genevieve cleared her throat and tried to disguise it as a cough. “Mum I just...”

“I can post it to you. There are a lot of pictures.”

“Can you, please?” Genevieve choked back a sob.

“Of course.”

Genevieve clamped her eyes shut and breathed deep through her nostrils. She assumed she owed her mother an explanation for the sudden onslaught of emotions. “I’m not crazy, it’s just this course, this assignment, is really putting a stress on me.”

“I know, Darling,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced in the slightest.

Genevieve swallowed sour bile. “It’s not… it’s not because of him, I swear.”

“Didn’t think it was.”

“Really?” Genevieve’s word squeaked.

“Genevieve, baby,” her mother began. Margaret pursed her lips and it built a bustling silence. Words were tricky in sensitive situations like these. If not cherry picked with care and caution, they can ruin relationships—even of blood—with a snap. “He left, he was a great boy, but he left. And a part of me tells me you’re not coping.”

“I am. I promise I am.”

Genevieve covered the mouthpiece on her to muffle any whimpers. She rolled her lips tightly.

Margaret sighed. “I just worry about you, is all.”

“No reason to be, I’m doing much better.”

Blue sky. Birds fly. Genevieve lies.

“Alright.” There was shuffling on the other side of the line. “I’ll ring you another time. Take care of yourself, please.”

“Will do, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When the call ended, Genevieve bowed her head in shame. Her phone clattered on her wooden desk, then laid dead. The squares aligned in even rows on her keyboard were black. The font of each letter was simple, and the colour of winter. The U,G,S,A,T keys were dotted with small puddles of tears.

***

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[xathia-89]

An Introduction to Something Sweet

A thank you to @alloverolivermain for buying me a Ko-Fi! 

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Oliver’s lips were heavy and demanding against mine as my body crashed into the wall. It had been a rough few days for his workload and had had no time for our relationship. His hands were all over me, as he grabbed my ass with both his hands to try and get me closer to the bedroom. He’d mentioned having a surprise waiting for me for being so good but then had refused to elaborate further, though we had now made it from the living room, up the stairs and were not far from our bedroom. His kisses were hot and forceful before I was dragged into the prepared room.

I managed to get my lips away from the inventor’s for long enough to spy a platter of foodstuffs on the far side of the bed. Then I felt the curve of Oliver’s lips turn into a smirk.

“I need some dessert,” he declared, already pawing at my breast through the material of my shirt as he began to walk me backwards to the bed. It was that same insufferable look that said he knew I was going to love whatever he had planned before I was dropped onto the mattress.

He resumed kissing my neck, beginning to undo the top buttons deftly as my hands scrambled to try and get hold of his shirt. It was hard to think straight as he sucked on a spot just below my ear, and had his hand already under my skirts and tracing the outside of my panties. He was teasing my throbbing clit now, just little and ghostly touches to my nub as his free hand began to unbutton the rest of my shirt.

“You’re soaked already,” he laughed as he plunged two of his fingers straight into my pussy after slipping under my panties without much effort.

I whined as he removed his digits, unable to tear my eyes away as he sucked them clean in his mouth.

“Ashley?” Luka’s voice came from the doorway in time for my panties to go flying over Oliver’s shoulder.

“You’re just in time,” the inventor smirked, and then I noticed a strawberry in his hand. “She’s absolutely soaked, and it will take both of us to satisfy her this time,” he laughed. I squeaked as I felt the tip of the fruit slide up and down my slit, my body jolting before Oliver could pin my hips to the bed.

He made a show of eating the strawberry, moaning loudly and maintaining constant eye contact with me.

“You really ought to come and try tasting her Luka,” Oliver was continuing. “Ashley was about to strip completely for us, and then I know you’ll want to try what I have here.”

Blanc had apparently been on one of his trips to the Land of Reason. Because there was now a jar of Nutella sat on the platter that I hadn’t noticed before.

A loud moan escaped from me as Oliver teased my clit with another strawberry. “You might want to get undressed before you ruin your clothes with all of your juices,” he stated as matter of fact, and I swore he knew exactly how to eat a strawberry in the most sensual manner possible.

I wasn’t expecting to find that the Jack of Spades was behind me, and undoing my skirt clasp the second I stood up off the bed. Oliver was wearing an expression that made me want to slap him, and then Luka had dropped my skirt to the floor, my shirt following swiftly and had his fingers down the front of my panties to tease my clit.

“Might want to lose the bra as well, Ashley,” the inventory reminded me, bringing me slightly out of the haze of pleasure that surrounded me. My fingers fumbled with the clasp, though I finally won as Luka had decided that my panties were now offensive and tugged them down off my hips.

I whimpered as both men had taken a step back from me. Oliver was twirling a strawberry stalk in between his fingers, a lusty expression covering his face, whilst Luka’s cheeks were flushed with colour as he was getting out of his uniform jacket.

The inventor pushed me back so I was lying on the bed, and it was then I realised there was a giant plastic sheet covering everything instead of the usual sheets beneath my skin. The Jack of Spades had shared a look with Oliver before the faintest feeling of something trickling onto my skin made me squeal. A sharp slap to the inside of my thigh made me still, and a tutting sound from the inventor interrupting my instant need to know what was going on. I wasn’t sure what had been poured onto my skin, but then I felt the resumption of a strawberry teasing at my entrance.

The moan that escaped from Oliver’s lips was sinful.

Then my brain was about to melt as Luka’s tongue trailed over the thick liquid that was on my breast. He sucked my nipple hard into his mouth before roughly thrashing his tongue about in an appearance to get all of the substance off my skin. Once he was satisfied with my right breast being ‘clean’, he attacked the left one. I could hear the increase of the inventor’s breathing at the sight before him, and another strawberry was now teasing at my clit. I was certain I was lying in a puddle of my own essence, especially when I felt the piece of fruit dip lower before it was removed from my skin.

“She’s more than ready for anything,” Oliver was trying to keep things light, but his tone was deep and rough. I would have been willing to bet anything that his eyes were dilated, his beautiful emerald eyes nearly obscured by his pupils.

I opened my mouth with a gasp, as something entered my pussy slowly. It was bigger than anything that I’d felt from our toy box, and it definitely wasn’t his cock. Luka sent his button flying getting his member out of his trousers, unable to resist the manner in which I had presented myself to him.

“She’s soaked,” the inventor was almost admiring how my body was reacting as Luka settled his cock in my mouth after turning my head to the side to allow him in. There was a non-committal noise from the Jack, whose cock I had now taken an active part in sucking off. My tongue was wrapping around his length as I started to bob my head a little. I couldn’t stop my moans as the new toy was thrusting in and out of me.

Oliver had my legs over his shoulders and was tentatively licking at my clit in times with turn with the pumping of the toy. I whined as he began to alternate between sucking and nibbling on my throbbing nub.

“Do that again,” Luka panted, his hands grabbing hold of my head. He was taking hold of the pace and it felt like he was throat fucking me.

Oliver laughed but complied, his nips sharp and swift followed by hard sucks on my clit as he began to furiously pump the toy in and out of me. The coil was tight in my lower abdomen, my hips bucking furiously against Oliver’s face for the relief I was desperate for. He knew how to play me, it wasn’t quite enough for what I needed as Luka cried out and clutched my head tightly to his hips.

He let out a low moan as his cum splurged straight down my throat before his grip loosened and I could freely breathe.

“Please, please I want to cum,” I begged the second Luka’s cock was out of my mouth.

Oliver laughed and took out the toy swiftly from my soaked core. “Good girls get to cum, do you think she’s been good enough for it Luka?” The inventor was taunting me and letting me cool off a little from what had been my impending orgasm.

“She’s been a very good girl making sure at least one of us came before she did,” he pondered. “And she’s done everything without question,” he added on, idly pulling on my hardened nipple to keep me on the edge.

“That is true,” Oliver smirked and then thrust his cock straight into my core without breaking eye contact with me. “Fuck, you’re so wet and so hot, you’ve really worked yourself up haven’t you?” He began to pump in and out slowly, using all of his length to tease me. He would make sure that only the head of his cock was in before thrusting back in swiftly and dragging it back out again. Luka’s fingers had trailed through whatever they had poured onto my skin and licked his fingers clean before toying with my exposed and tortured clit.

“Please, please, please,” I gasped, my hips thrusting up to try and speed up Oliver’s tortuous pace. “Please, I need to cum,” I whimpered. Luka squeezed my clit after for extra noise effect and gave me a naughty smile that told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

“She has been really good,” the Jack of Spades finally conceded as the inventor’s hips began to thrust faster into mine.

“You should cum all over my cock,” Oliver groaned, whilst Luka pressed down harder on my clit, no longer just toying with me.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I screamed, my back arching off the bed but bringing the plastic sheet with my sticky skin. My pussy spasming around Oliver’s cock as he stuttered and came deep in me. His nails were digging into my hips as we rode out our mutual orgasm together.

Luka gently kissed me as I lay on the bed and tried to catch my breath, and gave me a loving smile.

“Just out of curiosity,” I slowly began.

“Nutella,” Oliver interrupted, standing up without much fuss.

“Huh?” I frowned.

“Blanc brought some Nutella back for us from the Land of Reason after hearing you talk about it,” the Jack explained, a blush on his face at the exact situation now the lust had cleared. “Tastes good.”

“I’m running the bath, don’t move until I tell you it’s ready,” the inventor called out, as I lifted my head to see he’d gone to the bathroom. “Can’t have you mess the sheets all up.”

I giggled as Luka scooped me up without another thought and carried me through. “I think we all need a bath, together,” I smiled, resting my head against the Jack’s shoulder.

[highland-gem-guardian]

Near Future

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Harakka uncovers an ancient stranger hidden within the cave much to her unexpected surprise, and the mischievous group try out a new device that provokes the wrath of a creature yet unseen by dragonkind.

Lore pinglist: @voidandstarlight​ @emordnilap-fr​ @fr-dew​ (ask to be added or removed!)

Harakka began to tremble. The feeling of fight or flight ravaged through her body - something was absolutely not right here and if she stayed any longer she could find herself in serious danger or worse. Disbelief and curiosity kept her welded her to the ground, however, and she could only stand and watch as the bones she had uncovered continued to move and assemble in front of her.

The tail was the first part that Harakka could recognise as she watched it lie limp in the dirt about a metre away from the rest of the skeleton. She then watched as a disconnected arm dragged itself over to grab it by the hairless tip, and turned her head to fight back the creeping feeling of nausea as it dragged itself back to the rest of the forming skeleton and clicked it into another set of bones with a sickening “pop!”

She had no idea whatsoever on what was causing this commotion. Did she disturb some sort of sacred temple? Did a necromancy cult of some sorts operate around here? Did she accidentally activate a curse? Countless thoughts of worry raced around her head like some sort of panicked driver struggling for control at a dozen-miles-per-hour around a racing circuit of impending doom.

Just as she was about to pull herself out of her trance and break for it, she heard a cracked voice sound from in front of her. She forced herself to turn her head forwards and look at the thing now staring directly into her eyes with eyeless sockets.

“G’day mate! Boy sure is a crank chilly down ‘ere.” The thing was standing lopsided with pieces of bone still missing from its body. It looked Harakka up and down before craning its head to look around. “Sure seems like this place is in need of a bit of T.L.C, I knew those new support beams wouldn’t last for long at all but did they listen to me? Nay…”

“E-excuse me.” Harakka began to shake again, and she bit her lip. “A-aren’t you aware that you are a little...uhm... dead?”

The thing looked at her like it was trying to raise its eyebrows that no longer existed. “Dead? I would no be speaking and walking around if I was dead as a door nail. I’ll admit this old body of mine is failing a bit- have you happened to seen a pair of Light-coloured eyeballs lying around somewhere here?” They inquired.

Harakka felt the nausea flare up in her stomach again. “No… not that I have seen. Listen, skeleton..” She breathed out deeply and clasped her claws. “First of all, are there any other dragons buried down here with you? More specifically… any Imperials? More than one Imperial more specifically?”

She winced as the rickety skeleton laughed a hoarse laugh. “Emperors are no laughing matter you… thing!” Harakka shouted at it.

“Emperors? In this cave? It’s less likely than ya might think!” The skeleton was now laughing so hard that a bone from their ribs fell down onto the dirty ground. “Nay, only fun old me and my crew are down here. Absolutely no way an Imp or Ridgie would fit in these narrow passages, though you’ve done a grand job sneaking through for a Guardian it seems! We’ve been mining this cave for years, though I’ll admit it’s looking a bit dry since I last woke up…” The creaky skeleton looked rather concerned upon noticing the latter.

Harakka looked over the skeleton with its amber-like bones. “Listen, hey… I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think… I think I’ve woken you up a little bit late. Your crew.. I don’t think they’re here any longer.” She now spoke sympathetically as the creature turned to look directly at her.

“Oh.” The skeleton lowered it’s head to the floor. “Oh.”

“So is this a good enough spot for where you need to be to do that…thing?” Synalar hesitated for a moment before lowering himself back down to the ground to allow his passengers to alight. They were just under half a mile from Melladion’s strange laboratory-turned-robot-daycare, far enough to hide the larger member of the group and allow Tektite to do what she needed to do.

Tektite grinned. “Perfect. None of them will be able to sense the device all the way out here, so we shouldn’t have to worry about them intervening-” She babbled on about more technological things as the others watched her in amusement as she lowered her head slightly and then raised it again, this time with eyes glowing, and activated her telekinetic powers to lift open her satchel and pull out a strange electronic board of buttons and other fancy knobs.

Aldersong peeked out from the rim of his bowl in Amitea’s arms. “What even is that thing anyway? I’ve literally never even HEARD of a thing looking like that, let alone seen one! What does it even do?” He bugged on at Tektite.

“You will see dear friend, you will see soon~” They could clearly hear the amusement in her voice as she kept them pondering. “I just really hope that thing is still around here. It was circling the windmill last time I was here. Pretty armored too, certainly more than capable of constructing its own firewall…”

Now the group of misfits were really left stumped. Tektite had told them this thing couldn’t be seen by the naked eye - only through her device - but now it was really beginning to sound like something right out of Miracle’s midday Fae tales. A wall of fire? Really?

“Yes….yeah! I’ve found it guys! Come round and see it! Told you it wasn’t some sort of prank!” Tektite whispered to them with enthusiasm and beckoned them to crouch around her and look at the small textured screen where sure enough, a strange digital green anomaly with red grid-like textures floating around it appeared to be circling the windmill.

“What in the Gods…” Synalar croaked. Aldersong was left with his mouth gaping, his jaw probably ready to drop to the ground at any moment. Poor Amitea almost dropped him with surprise, and Andesine was grinning with a mixture of pride and excitement for his fellow Geode and friend.

Tektite was absolutely thrilled. She had spent her early life fascinated by Lightning technology, and when Melladion had arrived in town she was absolutely awestruck by his tradesmanship. Even more so was she ecstatic upon seeing him with Mothtal for the first time after he had repaired the damaged robot, and when he welcomed more and more robots into his lab that she could only dream of hacking into to discover their secrets-

A terrifying rip of static broke from Tektite’s device.

“Tekkie! TEKKIE! That thing is making a weird noise! Shut it off girl! Shut it off!” Andesine shrieked as he tried desperately to cover his small ears with his Gembond-heavy stumps as the others winced around her doing the same. Amitea very nearly dropped poor Aldersong in an attempt to cover her own ears, spilling a lot of his water out in the process as the young Koi held desperately on to the rim.

“Wait- no!” Tektite yelped and with a powerful force of telekinesis she twisted a dial in various directions. “It’s trying to communicate! It’s spotted us!” She exclaimed.

She furiously wrestled with both her own mind and the device in a desperate attempt to uncover the beings hidden language before the static was silenced and a startling deep voice rumbled out of the device, leaving the group both shaken and awed:

“I̷̞͊̐͜ ̸̮̻͠C̸̞̻̋̌A̶̭͊N̵͙̄ ̷͍̞̓S̴̠̐͘��E̴̼͂N̶̨̧̈́S̴͔͗̍E̴͇̮͒̄ ̴͕̼̒Ỳ̸͚͉Ȍ̶̩U̷̫̅R̷̩̜̂ ̶͖̗̏͆P̵͖̪̊Ṟ̶̯̇͆E̴̛͎̤̓S̵̗̑͆Ë̵̥͓N̴̬̳͊C̷̜̩̽Ė̷̱͊ ̸̨͈̈́͝U̶̜̎̇͜N̴̮͐R̷̯̯̿E̵̙̬͒͌G̷̟͔͗I̵͓̦͆S̸̥̼̋̀T̵̗͇͌Ȩ̷̯͘R̷̟̮͝Ę̷̣̏D̸̮̊̉ ̴̨̧̋͝Ï̵͎͚̊Ñ̴̜̚T̶̢͕͐E̷̹͂ͅL̵̢̖̃͝L̷̞̪̊̓Į̷̦̎͗G̶̥͛E̸̠̾N̸͎̄̃C̷̗͛É̶͙͝ ̴̥̦̾T̵͓̦͒R̵͉͝À̸̫Č̷̫̻̓K̴̯̔Ȋ̸̺͎̈́N̴͉̐͌Ḡ̵̯̳̿ ̴̼͈̊̕D̴̢̦͆E̸̮̰̿V̷͔͘̚I̵̠̐C̶̑͜Ẻ̷͎.̶̫̋ ̸̗͒Ḯ̴̹͇͝ ̷̺̫̊͂Ą̴̜̋M̷̺̼̀ ̸̲̬̄-̴̢͑R̶̦̱̽̄E̸͍͍̒D̵̹͖͑Ȁ̴̹̙͆C̸̯̳̈́̄T̴̩̊̐E̷̺̲͐D̴̢̻̓̊-̵̨̭͛͋ ̷͖̞͛͝=̵̖͌C̴̱͔͒Ȍ̵͎D̷̝͕͊̃È̵̻̓;̵̫͌͝N̶͙̖̋U̴̘̕͝L̵̳͆L̴̙̗̔̓,̶͈͉̍̈́ ̷̙͠À̸̱̒Ǹ̶̜͜D̶̳̃͗ ̴̢̜̔͝I̴̙͑ ̶̡́W̸̨̦̏I̴͍̻͊͝L̵̠̊ͅL̶͉̼̎ ̴̟̜̽̑N̴̨̬̎O̶͔͈̍T̵̛͙̙̂ ̴̡̗̆Ḁ̸͕̉͂Ủ̵̱̤̊T̷̺̀͝H̵͎̤͑͛Ỏ̵̦Ŗ̷̓I̴͍͠S̶̝̬̽̌Ë̸͖̤́̽ ̵̻̣͗͘Y̷̨͍̎̌Ȍ̴͍͜Ǘ̶̼̝͆Ȓ̷̳̯̈́ ̵͇̋I̷͓̻̊N̶̦̻͑͒T̴͙͋E̸͈͐Ř̵̠Ḟ̶̨̱E̷̪̰̒́R̶̖̱̄̈Ȇ̸̮̟̀N̵̗̏C̵̥̐Ȅ̴̯̭͝ ̷̧̓B̴͍̣͘É̷̤̀T̶̥̯̒͋W̶̛̺͕E̸͓͓̿̅Ẽ̴̳͎̾N̶̮̊̐͜ ̷͍́M̵̳̣̆̓Ÿ̵͉͈S̷͉̊̒È̵̳L̸̳̐̾F̷̱̑ ̵̳̈́̕Ā̷̘͠N̸̟͋́ͅD̸̛̙͘ ̷̜͕̌T̴͕͔̿H̷̼̽E̵̼͗ ̴̳̅͐Ḁ̴͝R̷̟̽T̶̙̂́I̴̢̐F̷̜͕̊I̸̦͛̀C̷̭̼͋̑I̴̯̓͋A̷̤̒L̶͉͊̾ ̵̼̦̃Ĺ̴̞I̴̗͆͜F̴̮͚͐É̸̩F̵͓́͜Ó̵̳͙̔Ŗ̴̿͂M̵͙͌S̴̗͑ ̵̖̌I̷͈͒̂N̶̲͇̿̏ ̸̨́T̵̹̗̂H̵̳̪̿I̸̮̪̿̏S̶̢̥̓ ̸̬̑C̶̟̝̈͒Ȯ̴͔̱͊M̵͘͜P̵̱͐L̵͙͐E̶̬͛ͅX̷͍͈͋͗.̴̹͝ ̶͕̱͝P̸̮̃͠R̴͚̅Ẹ̴̍͝P̴͔̖̏̽Ả̷̬͙R̵͍͖͊Ě̶̗͓̄ ̷̻̼̂F̶͍̄̌O̸̺̜͊̏R̷͍̈̉ ̷̰̔͂R̸͎̳̽̂E̶̟͌S̵̼̦̕͠I̵͉̼͂̏S̷̨̩͝T̵̬̜͘A̸̧̎̆N̴̫̰̕C̴̺̱̑̚Ė̵̤͓.”

“So where’d you come from then hun? I canna say that I’ve seen markings like those before” The skeletal dragon quietly questioned Harakka and poked her lightly on the shoulder. “Looks like the markings of a Plague dragon no doubt, with all ‘em bones. You got the eyes to match for certain!” They cackled.

Harakka simply nodded at the skeleton. “I’m from the Wasteland yes, but I came here to... leave all that behind and start over again.” She whispered the last few words, her voice cracking slightly.

“Well then you see... these caves here don’t forget that easily. They remember everything, all the way back to millenniums ago before even the Deities had gone to rest. History of creatures and civilizations lies immortalised in these very walls and minerals.” The skeleton spoke quietly and reached out a thin arm to stroke the wall nearest to them, seemingly admiring it.

Harakka looked around the dark cave and nodded again, clearly uninterested. “Yeah. So. Do you remember your name? Do you even have one?” She asked. “I am Harakka, by the way. Apologies for disturbing you.”

The skeleton arched their head from the wall and looked backwards at the young Guardian. “No need to be sorry for anything, hun. You can call me Fossil. That’s what they always called me back in the day. I think there may still be a town nearby if you want somewhere more comfortable to forget your past.”

Bonus image to the staff after that specific Ask The Team:

[didilysims]

I meant to do a batch of these a couple of days ago, but then I noticed tumblr wasn’t showing some of the comments on the Activity page, so I left them, hoping they’d show up later. Alas, they did not. I thought we were past this, tumblr. :( I think I’ve tracked them all down now, but apologies if I missed anyone. It wasn’t intentional.

Anyway, here’s Part One of the

regarding the recent university and graduation posts plus the late-night thoughts for @dramallamadingdang​ @nekosayuri​ @taylors-simblr​ @moocha-muses​ @strangetomato​ and @penig​.

dramallamadingdang replied to your photo “There’s no ballet barre anywhere near here, Jamal. Did you lose a...”

Hey, he makes that leotard look *good*! :)

I think that leotard always looks good. Usually improved by the presence of a ballet barre, however. But even without, looking ridiculous doesn’t mean you can’t look good too!

nekosayuri replied to your photo “*sneak sneak sneak* Jonah: Oh, the door’s open. *saunters in* Jonah:...”

LOL that post you linked is amazing

Gotta love those crazy profs. :D I’m still looking forward to meeting the drama prof in this ‘hood...

nekosayuri replied to your post “Late-night thoughts & ramblings on tumblr that I have been pondering...”

@didilysims​ Kawaii is indeed Japanese for cute :3 I wholeheartedly agree with you on the shipping thing, by the way, just so you know. :D The thing I dislike the most is also when the creator of a story gives in and puts characters together that they didn't plan on before, because of fanservice. It goes completely against the plot, too. I don't do crackships either ¬.¬ I only recently learned what it even was. xD

Yay, I’m not alone! Ha ha. It bugs me a lot when creators give in to the fans too, especially when so often the story would have been better without these forced pairings. But I’m also the type of person who likes bittersweet endings best and I cheer for characters who choose duty over “love” (more often lust), so... Long, drawn-out, boring, and/or forced romance subplots just aren’t my thing, though I do enjoy some good relationship drama, as obviously my blog evidences. ;)

taylors-simblr replied to your post “Late-night thoughts & ramblings on tumblr that I have been pondering...”

I don’t get the not tagging thing either. I love tags, I overuse them, it’s where I put all my extra thoughts and they’re super helpful for searching. I try not to be rude to anons, I usually ignore any rudeness in a message and put it down to the person being in a hurry, or a non English speaker or something.

So useful for searching! That’s the part I really can’t wrap my mind around--do these people never go back and look for stuff on their own blog? I mean, maybe, but I have to wonder: why not?? Especially if you’re reblogging stuff, isn’t it so you can find it later? I won’t tell anyone how to run their own blog, so it’s really not a big deal, but I cannot understand.

I would say being in a hurry is not really an excuse for rudeness. Is it really so urgent that you can’t type out a please or thank you? Non-native speakers is totally cool, and I find people who are apologizing for bad English are usually way more polite and grammatically correct than their native speaking counterparts. :P  I definitely don’t want to excuse rude anons (when it’s obvious they are being rude) but sometimes I think people more often have their guards up when they get anon asks, and sometimes maybe the guards are too high. Which makes sense, considering the few who ruin it for everyone by sending anon hate. I think my filters are low because I don’t get a huge amount of anon asks, and have never been sent hate, plus most of the nonnies I see are often kind and helpful--those are the best anons!

(This reply kind of ran away with me...sorry!)

moocha-muses replied to your post “Late-night thoughts & ramblings on tumblr that I have been pondering...”

I've never realized it before (I'm not a very visual thinker) but my mental Anon image is apparently a generic stick figure typing on a keyboard.

I don’t often think visually either. Not really sure how my thinking works, actually, except that it does work...usually. :) I visualize people usually as vague faces without most features except maybe one unique thing, like the smile in this case. If I ever witness a crime, I would be totally useless at describing the suspect. “He had hair...I guess. Probably eyes too. And a nose. Overall he was...human-shaped.”

The typing stick figure is super cute, by the way. I can visualize that quite clearly!

strangetomato replied to your post “Late-night thoughts & ramblings on tumblr that I have been pondering...”

I feel as though No. 2 could be directed at me. I wish I were able to give everyone the full benefit of the doubt for every ask that their tone is just off, but if reading it initially felt like a punch in the gut, I don't see anything wrong in letting them know that "hey this came across as hurtful". I usually give myself some time to reflect before answering, and I often run them by someone else. But sometimes people are just rude, whether they mean to be or not.

And also, for myself, mood state can greatly influence how I react to things (see: feeling like this post was criticizing me, haha), which is why I do things like try to wait and see how I feel later. So I think if we're allowing anons the assumption that their tone might be off, we should allow those answering asks the benefit that maybe their negative thinking is colouring how they are interpreting the ask. And past experiences with anon hate can also be a factor.

These are some really good points and I appreciate you sharing them. I don’t get a huge amount of anon asks (although sometimes they come in a big wave, weirdly enough) so I don’t have to deal with constantly weighing the tone of each, and I imagine it can be tiring. Whether intentional or not, if someone can come across as rude, it’s not a bad thing to politely let that person know. In my experience of following you, I would say you have been overall kind and courteous to anons. This definitely wasn’t an aimed criticism, just a random late-night thought that I probably should have kept to myself. Please don’t take it personally, but I do appreciate you weighing in. It’s good for me to get the other side of the story, so to speak.

penig replied to your post

By "Parent Trap" fantasy I mean that a lot of kids whose folks divorce get elaborate fantasies about getting them back together, which can be fed by watching the movie. This is a big enough thing that counselors sometimes warn people dealing with the children of divorce not to let them watch The Parent Trap, as it creates false expectations and makes adjustment harder.

I sort of figured it was something like that. Makes sense. Too bad there weren’t any counsellors around to warn Allegra about the trouble her daughter could cause...

dramallamadingdang replied to your post

Exactly! It's the lactic acid build-up from the repetitive motion. So, if you play lots of chess, best to be ambidextrous so that one arm isn't bigger than the other. ;) And speed chess is best for muscle-building. Could be considered a cardio workout, even! ;)

I think we’ve got a new workout routine planned out! Quick, let’s patent it and start our own chess gym. We’ll be rich!!

nekosayuri replied to your post

I did send my sims on some outings, but it never happened to me :O maybe I should do it more often XD

You should! I used to always ignore the phone call invitations because they were inconvenient and I was busy doing other stuff, and thus I never bothered to go on outings. But now I nearly always accept the calls and I’m really enjoying the new minigame it’s added to my playing. To warn you, I found it really hard to get a decent score at first. It helps a lot to have an outing with friends that will always accept quick and fun interactions to get the score up!

dramallamadingdang replied to your post

Confession: Lately, I've been putting Bob Ross videos on YouTube and listening to them as I fall asleep. So relaxing! And I think I'm picking things up subliminally b/c my digital painting efforts are improving. The game needs a TV channel w/a Bob-Ross-li

Gah! Hit Enter by mistake. Anyway...a Bob-Ross-like character that gives Creativity points and Arts & Crafts enthusiasm. Jamal could be the star. His glasses could be the trademark rather than the perm. :)

He’s totally relaxing. I watched a lot of his videos before Christmas when I was knitting presents and his soothing voice fit the cozy atmosphere just right. I love that TV channel idea too. Might have to get Jamal to do a few video shoots! Once he gets his creativity skill up a bit... He’s been in pottery most of his life, which surprisingly (annoyingly) doesn’t count as creative.

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Michael Whelan, Sea Horror, Solar Pons, World of Tanks

Tolkien (Sacnoth’s Scriptorium): The Next Tolkien Book: THE NATURE OF MIDDLE-EARTH. So, news is now out that there’s a new book of J.R.R.T. material due out next year (May 27th 2021).  Edited by Tolkien linguist Carl Hostetter, it’s called THE NATURE OF MIDDLE-EARTH, and its four hundred pages gather together many of the short essays Tolkien wrote about his legendarium in the post-LotR period.

  Gaming (Jon Mollison): For those of you interested in the hobbyist portion of this blog, allow me to point you to the thing that has been keeping me too busy to throw write-ups on gaming thoughts onto this page:  The Joy Of Wargaming.  With new videos up every other day, it’s been gathering steam every since it first went live back and the end of May.  The example video is a quick unboxing showing a small piece of a larger table of Egyptian terrain, but I’ve got a lot of actual-plays, painting sessions, and game reviews up already with more scheduled through most of July, including some hex-and-counter style wargaming for the diehard grognards.

Art (DMR Books): Michael Whelan, a colossus in the realm of SFF art,  turns a venerable seventy years old today. In honor of the occasion, I considered covering Michael’s incredible run of Barsoomian covers or perhaps picking a “greatest hits” from his forty-five year relationship with DAW Books or maybe even going through the surprising number of Howardian artworks that Whelan has painted over the years. However, I finally settled on a retrospective looking at Michael’s unparalleled body of work devoted to Elric of Melnibone.

D&D (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): The previous session introduced developments that completely destabilized what passes for a status quo in this campaign. How to prepare for this? Well, Gygax has numerous examples of this sort of thing scattered about the AD&D rules. Imagine the situation. Determine the odds for each particular occurrence. Roll percentile dice and keep moving! As far as prep goes, that was about all that could be done, though I couldn’t help ponder what is just around the corner in the various dungeons I’ve introduced.

Classic Science Fiction (Adventures Fantastic): So the next few Retro Hugo posts are going to be focusing on the short stories that I haven’t already looked at.  I covered “Far Centaurus” for A. E. van Vogt’s birthday, and a scheduling slip-up resulting in my post on “The Wedge” by Isaac Asimov going live before I finished the novelettes.

  Art (Goodman Games): TSR artist Jim Holloway recently passed away. He will be missed.  Why do you play D&D? Because it’s a social experience that brings smiles, laughs, and camaraderie built around the spirit of adventure. While the wargames that preceded Chainmail and D&D were strategic and serious, D&D has drifted steadily into the realm of “social entertainment.” Now in the year 2020, we’ve fully accepted D&D as entertainment. Heck, you can even watch D&D be played by professional actors on Twitch who are just there to make you laugh. In 2020, we know this. Way back in 1981, there was an artist who figured it out before the rest of us. That artist was Jim Holloway.

Games (Table Top Gaming News): World of Tanks Tabletop Gaming Coming in September.  Many of you have hopped into your Panzer or Tiger or Patton and headed across virtual landscapes, looking to take out enemy tanks. Well, soon, you’ll be able to do the same on your tabletops. Gale Force 9 has announced that they’re coming out with a World of Tanks tabletop game this September.

Weird Westerns (Dark Worlds Quarterly): The creation of the new sub-genre of Weird Westerns is not a recent thing. The first Western is considered to be Owen Wister’s The Virginian (1902). The Horror story dates back to the caves and prehistoric man, so we will begin at the turn of the 20th Century. Novel publishers and the weekly magazines produced countless Western stories with authors like Zane Grey, Max Brand and Clarence Mulford being top-rate authors.

Advice (Amatopia): Ten Easy Life Hacks to Not Be a Total Creep! (Sci-fi Author edition).     Hi there, sci-fi and fantasy writers and fans! Are you tired of being accused of inappropriate conduct towards women? Are you sick of constant allegations of being a “creep”? Lucky for you, I’m here with ten life hacks to help keep you from being metooed like Myke Cole, Sam Sykes, Warren Ellis, and Paul Krueger, among others. There’s also Elizabeth Bear and her husband Scott Lynch who are accused of all sorts of horrible stuff.

Fiction (Adventure’s Fantastic): So, why on Bierce’s birthday am I going to talk as much about Robert E. Howard as the birthday boy? Simple: Ambrose Bierce had a big influence on some of Howard’s weird western stories. Bierce was one of Robert E. Howard’s most favorite writers. Howard even has Bierce appear in three of his humorous sketches, and a name check in a fourth that Howard wrote in his letters to Howard’s best friend, Clyde Smith

Life (Wasteland & Sky): Friends are not merely allies. They can be allies in causes, and they can even be support during the darkest times, but friends do not exist to be tools to achieve a common goal. They are not to be thrown away when they lose usefulness, or when they disagree with a certain belief you have that they do not. The only people who believe in such a thing as weaponizing friendship are those who have no idea what friendship is.

Appendix N (Swords and Stitchery): Colours Of a Darker Appendix N – Robert W. Chambers, H.P. Lovecraft, & Jack London. “The Mask” is introduced by an excerpt from Act 1, Scene 2d:

Camilla: “You, sir, should unmask.”

Stranger: “Indeed?”

Cassilda: “Indeed it’s time. We have all laid aside disguise but you.”

Stranger: “I wear no mask.”

Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) “No mask? No mask!”

It is also stated, in “The Repairer of Reputations”, that the final moment of the first act involves the character of Cassilda on the streets, screaming in a horrified fashion, “Not upon us, oh, king! Not upon us!”

SFWA (Cirsova): SFWA is a terrorist organization. For several years, we have remained agnostic on the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. While we have had a few friends who have had “beef” with SFWA, we have also had a number of authors and friends who have been members of the SFWA.

H. P. Lovecraft (Tentaculii): Derie’s comment on Lovecraft “approving as he did of Nazi Germany’s ultranationalism” could be be misunderstood, though. Firstly one has to know that “ultranationalism” has a specific political-historical meaning: ‘the arrogant belief in the complete superiority of one’s nation over others, and the placing of its interests above all other nations at all times’. In the cases of Imperial Japan, Nazi Germany, Soviet Russia etc this was accompanied by variations on the ‘cult-of-the-Emperor’. Ultranationalism has also spawned an equally perverse leftist flipside, which despises any pride in the nation and seeks to constantly denigrate it at every opportunity.

Fiction (Rough Edges): I meant to get back to this series of historical action/adventure novels set in ancient Rome sooner, but other books got in the way. However, I’ve now read BLOOD ON THE SAND, the fourth novel in the Gladiator series (originally published in England under the series title The Eagles). The author behind the Andrew Quiller house-name this time is the prolific Laurence James, who also wrote the first book in the series, HILL OF THE DEAD.

Sherlock Holmes (Digital Bibliophilia): I’ve seen a lot of articles over the years regarding the character of Solar Pons. Most recently my involvement in Kickstarting some of the MX Sherlock Holmes books by Belanger Books meant I was included in the notification that they were also looking to republish the complete Solar Pons series as originally authored by August Derleth. At the time I didn’t join in on the project, I’d already committed to a number of other products, and thought that these were a little out of my interest range.

Horror (DMR Books): Since the beginning of time the sea has inspired fear. It covers most of the earth and what lies beneath it we may never truly know. Anything can reside beneath the waves. Men have gone forth on it and discovered new lands, but these journeys are often costly in human lives. Horrors and dangers of the sea have made the way into mythology and legend. Creatures like the Norse Kraken and the Japanese Umibozu were said to attack ships.

RPG (Goodman Games): Skull & Crossbones Classics is the new zine from the one-and-only Bob Brinkman. Bob is not only one of the main forces behind the Sanctum Secorum podcast, but he’s a frequent contributor to many of our lines. You’ll find Bob’s name on products for Mutant Crawl Classics, DCC Lankhmar, Fifth Edition Fantasy, and much more. Now Bob has turned his eyes to the high seas and the golden age of pirates. And Bob is no stranger to the pirate genre, as anyone who has met him knows well. So we know this ship is in good hands!

Sensor Sweep: Michael Whelan, Sea Horror, Solar Pons, World of Tanks published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[nestorjpy2896-blog]

ArticlesBD.

Colored contacts are a rage today. The meaning of eye different colors performs state a great deal concerning a person, however certainly not based upon psychological science and also personality traits. And as quickly as a low magnitude of dejected lighting is included in the mix, a myriad of added tones may be generated. The locks and tale are white colored, there is a pink or even pinkish skin over the whole body as well as the steed will certainly have blue eyes. The firm reported AFFO per allotment of $0.30 for the second quarter of 2018, which follows the disclosed Q1 AFFO results. And so the influence of going from 100% to fifty% allotment in 2015 was really dealt with due to the growth of the non-Apple company. You might want to try merely doing highlights as much less hair is actually tinted and the color is actually certainly not rubbed right into your scalp. Organic pigments include phthalo woes and greens, 2B reddish, napthols, Reddish Lake C, as well as carbazole violet. They normally possess a bare, pale colored around their eyes. Florals, vegetation, planet, sand, water as well as stone provide charming photo ops as they form fantastic natural trends A macro chance of a floral provides a completely different seek to it. Every person discovers as well as really feels delight from finding lively different colors. Story Album enables you to remember at your photographes on one timetable, reframing and resizing all of them to produce digital photograph manuals which can be seen and also discussed on your other units. Seventh International DOCOMOMO Event: Graphic, Use and Culture, the Function of Construction of the Modern Action; September 16-19, 2002. Its own melanine pigments look like a brownish skin rather than black colour which differs the Black Gem along with its own extreme dark colour. This will certainly lower the threat of these added fats being stashed in their body as body fat. The Mindfulness Colouring Publication is actually full of geometric layouts, patterns, http://supplementblogpost.info/ and mandalas, this should be in every knapsack, bag or even briefcase. Standard components: PLC-based managements along with Personal Computer interface, 2- or even four-position belfry delivers extra air conditioning patterns or even centers just before ejection. They are actually seen as "windows to your soul," as well as really few individuals drop to talk about a set of striking eyes.

With the exception of the color black, this in usual truth is actually a different colors, however mentally is actually the absence of lighting or even the lack of colour, a shade. Relocate the white and also black sliders to where the red shade begins. I am actually a nail service technician and sometimes ponder what the heck are these folks presuming, using such a color like that?

My buddy from the UK mentions to me: "Webcam, you should do some sketches along with shade, your gallery is all black and white!" it created me realize that I like by doing this of pulling at this point. I use this collection and also own of Prismacolor pencils plus I've received a tin of water-soluble pencils that take on the look of watercolors when you brush all of them with a slightly wet paintbrush. There now follows a brief description and some examples of how manipulation of light exhausts in graphic show units using RGB, generates different colors and also tones of yellow. The Dresden Eco-friendly stands apart one of the natural colored rubies. After making a selection, purchasers have the ability to figure out a color and every other added alternatives offered for the auto of their finding. Certainly, if the intensity of both red and also eco-friendly light is actually varied, after that the color of yellow presented will certainly additionally vary.

[charlottelovell-blog]

Is There A Creative Element To These Strategic Tasks?

The bank like its subsidiaries has more than 600 branches and offices in 20 countries and territories in the Asia Pacific and 20 in five other countries all over the planet. The 1st step for attaining good results in the world of digital promoting is to know your audience. Private Branding and New Grads: This is what you need to have to know! You have to have to learn to even out and space out the emails and the frequency in which they are sent out. You can obtain significantly of the details you will need by seeking in the physical yellow pages or obtainable on-line telephone books. But how much is your used car or truck worth? Otherwise, the brand will only be recognizable but not worth trusting. Questionnaires will concentrate on testing whether new practices had been taking prospects away from the branches and sort of client feedback received on IT-based services. This is why it is really vital to pick your brand values meticulously otherwise, your brand may perhaps be taken the incorrect way - or worse, it may fail when you do not see repeat prospects.

Prospects state their likes and dislikes, preferences, comments and ideas on social network web sites. Along this line, Eisner & Peshkin (1990) ask irrespective of whether it is possible to present investigation values with the one of a kind predicament of the qualitative study strategy and how can study understanding be accumulated if there are no generalizations on the study. There are a lot of benefits to starting an Net small business. In most cities, these meetings are open to the public, and as a copywriting consulting service enterprise owner you must attend. We're speaking about promoting your name so when a person hears your name they relate to the item or service that you represent. HEY, TOYOTA, quit Talking (ads) about what a terrific vehicle you make and how committed your folks are and Commence carrying out it! To be in a position to build the greatest online advertising and marketing program for your small business, we often get started with where you are nowadays. This partnership will be really hard to get started off with - unless you have an established brand name like EMC or Cisco or Brocade.

Therefore, if they trust and like you they will be much more inclined to purchase your merchandise or use your services, regardless of the market situations. While some prefer to purchase a prebuilt dwelling, lots of others choose to make one from the ground up as it gives a plethora of positive aspects. People believe what they perceive and, by being Google's number one particular result, you are perceived to be the top rated expert in the field. Are you pondering of the sort of experience you wish to possess at trade convention? That sort of longish net address also tends to make the enterprise look inexperienced and significantly less-innovative — since it settled for one thing so difficult. Do not congest your web web-site with far too a lot of images, photographs, colourful fonts, and backgrounds. Nowadays, a internet primarily based advertising office has turned out to be 1 of the substantial explanations for some productive organizations in Sydney. Make certain you sound like 1 in your blog posts and articles and on your web site. Make a selection on your web site, its content and the precise approaches for on-line promotion you will be applying. Operating collectively with a team can generate terrific content material for video promoting. Women who announce their engagements on Facebook can rely upon ads for wedding dresses.

For anybody who subscribes to my weekly FrankelTips column, you knew this was coming. It is altering marketing and branding from a static message to a dynamic and fast-paced interchange. Having said that, from a branding point of view, it has lost its initial efficiency giving the reality that consumers do not look to feel a connection any longer with the standardized products of international corporations, as catered to them in mass marketing communication applications. Have you allowed branding perfectionism to keep you from having started with your small business? What is a branding? All effective enterprise plans have a very good tactic behind them. These firms have actually spent billions of dollars to create an efficient brand marketing (https://Brandbuilders.online). In truth, contrary to conventional wisdom, these departments are usually not the most crucial signifies for constructing your brand in your target groups' minds. We use Brand Evaluation Mapping software program to interpret the data collected for the duration of the investigation phase. Decals are the answer.

B. Youre from the east coast – NY/NJ – and feel that DingDongs are rip-offs. So alternatively of sending out spies disguised in mustaches to infiltrate German munition factories, the intelligence community gave the brainiacs German newspapers and radio broadcasts. The above Wikileaks summary gives you a good concept of what Japanese, Italian and German Americans had been up against when they had been relocated into internment camps as component of the American war defense. But how have been we supposed to stand out above and beyond the rest? Check out these secret ways to convert your stubborn leads to purchasers. If you want to uncover out how to set yourself up on the internet and exactly where to discover the sources described above, then I am prepared to assist. Corrosion, in its simplest sense is characterized as then as a organic reaction of metals with its direct atmosphere. In the case of direct soil corrosion, the deterioration requires location simply because of the existence of certain corrosion cells in the exterior of these pipelines.

[chuicide]

Why It Has Turn into A Broadly Practiced Technique When Raising Chickens

Publisher: Edgar Roger Amongst the best properly-recognized rooster coops changing into employed by merely professionals is the Amish rooster coop. It has acquired an excellent mixture of simplicity as well as efficiency in their design. It actually is built from strong wooden. In order that it could handle the particular huge further weight as well as the strong winds and even storms. It is very important the truth that materials you've obtained can simply handle the ever altering weather circumstances. Why Build a Chicken Coop? Writer: James Calloway Eggs are one in all the numerous benefits of elevating chickens in your individual yard. However that's far from the one profit. Discover how and why it is a great enterprise to construct a chicken coop proper in your personal yard. Ought to You purchase Natural Rooster? Publisher: Phil Tucker When you enter the supermarket, it is easy to become overwhelmed. We are often bombarded by an enormous quantity of various options, and as of late there's two of every little thing for the reason that organic fad has hit the mainstream. Writer: W.L. Yap Nowadays, it's a common follow to keep up a small poultry coop at residence.

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Many house owners of backyard chickens question if it's wise to introduce younger, extra birds to an current yard flock. This article briefly discusses the idea of the 'pecking order' and the issues that can come up in combining younger chickens with older chickens. Strategies that can be taken to make sure a easy integration in your hen coop are also outlined. Most homeowners of yard chickens are conversant in the concept of a 'pecking order' in rooster society. Many individuals nevertheless, don't realise the implications of adding new chickens to an existing flock, whom have previously decided their spot inside the chicken coop hierarchy. It won't be immediately obvious, but every rooster knows who they're allowed to dominate (those beneath them within the hierarchy) and which different chickens they should undergo themselves. Adding new chickens right into a chicken coop immediately signifies that the chickens want to establish a new order within the hierarchy. During this reestablishment phase, fighting could happen amongst the chickens in order to find out who can be submissive and who shall be dominant, and at last, who would be the 'prime chicken'. We love to take photos from time to time. Digital cameras have helped us to add the images on our computer systems once now we have clicked it. We can even delete a number of the dangerous pictures from the digicam. Fairly often we take photographs that are good but they lack something, sometimes the photographs change into too bright while at other times the light is less. Today you even have the option of enhancing the photographs and making them good. You would possibly be aware of the software programs that can be found today which can enable you to edit pictures easily. But there are only a few individuals who really know how one can edit these pictures with the assistance of the software. You might have heard about Photoshop. You may either obtain or purchase this software and begin using it to make your photos more attractive and then you can start promoting them by means of numerous websites and finally earn cash. However do you know how to make use of Photoshop. Using this software program will not be a straightforward process if you don't find out how to make use of it.

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[jnrichards97]

Mat Pringle Interview

Questions

Where do you get your ideas from?

Music and films are a huge part of my life and have been since my spotty adolescence so these both play a huge part in my inspiration and can often generate ideas for artwork.  Also from old books about folklore, horror movies, bestiaries, cryptozoology, the occult, flora and fauna.  

Do you work for commissions or more freelance?

I'm freelance but I do commissions. Commissions are good for earning money but can be quite restrictive.  I like to juggle making my own prints, books, comics etc and do occassional commissions that appeal to me.  

How do you go about pricing and selling your work?

Badly.  I've always found it tricky and I tend to underprice my work.  I'd sooner sell out of a run of prints for a bit less cash than sit on a huge pile of them for the rest of my life.

What are the more difficult aspects of being an independent illustrator and printmaker?

Generating income.  It's hard to get my work out there and for people to see it.  That said my biggest obstacle atm is my 11 month old daughter as I look after her full time so finding time to create artwork is very limited.  

How do you access printmaking facilities to print your work?

I work out of a studio in Woolwich where I have my own small press for linocut printing.  There's also a print facility attached to the studio complex which is excellent.  I was doing all my screen printing there for a while but I'm focussing on linocut atm as I like the freedom of being able to do all the cutting/printing in my own space.

How do you go about attracting more clientele?

Occassionally I send out emails with a ink to my website and relevant work attached to potential clients that I think would dig my work.  I'm not one for sending out mass emails to all art directors, I'd sooner focus on people/businesses that have shared interests.

What advice would you give to a young illustrator just starting out?

Put the hours in and draw, draw, draw.  Focus on drawing things you have a genuine love for rather than trying to create work that doesn't mean anything to you.  Don't expect to make a lot of money.  Don't copy other artists and don't be a dick.  

How did you find your style and how has it changed since you started?

I used to obsess about my style and worried I didn't have one.  I work across a few different mediums too which doesn't help me to have an instantly recognisable style but it's okay because I'd rather work in linocuts one day, then draw a comic the next etc rather than be 'typecast' doing exactly the same shitty drawings for the rest of my life. It's tricky though as a lot of art directors want illustrators who do exactly the same shitty drawings day after day...  

I think my style has changed a little over the years; I used to hide behind a lot of detail when I started but I'm more confident with my drawing skills now so I don't do that so much.  

Can you briefly explain your creative process?

Depending on the brief I'll do some research into whatever I'm supposed to be illustrating then do a bunch of tiny sketches.  I tend to let those skecthes gestate in my mind for a few days and ponder over them whilst doing other things.  So my brain will be gradually developing the concepts and ideas as go about my day eating a bagel or hoovering or whatever and then I'll come back to the brief a few days later with a better idea of what I want to achieve.

Once I've got a good idea of what I want to do I start sketching it out in non-photo blue pencil.  Then develop it further with a regular pencil.  Then dipping and and Indian ink the final linework.  Then I'll scan and clean the work in Photoshop before layering and adding [usually quite limited] colours.  

Other than printmaking, what types of media do you use?

I'm really digging watercolours atm.  Good quality ones though.  And contemporary dance.  I just love to dance.

What inspired your work?

Similar to the ideas question so music, films, books and comics.  

How frequent are your commissions?

It depends; full time child care has meant I'm turning down work right now plus  I've got two huge commissions on atm that take up all my drawing time but they're quite drawn out which is good given my current situation.  Before my daughter was born I probably got maybe a medium/large commission every couple of months and a few little ones per month.  

How long did it take you to become established?

I'm not sure I am tbh!  I've not done any solo shows as yet.  I don't get enough commissioned work to pay all of my bills but I'd sooner be making my own books (like FOLKGORE) and doing my own thing anyway so I'm quite happy with where I'm at. A solo show would be great though.

How did you get into illustration, have you always wanted to do it?

I really went around the houses to get where I am; studied geography at University, got a role as a Geographic Information System tech person which is exactly as dull as it sounds, became a fireman - hated it and eventually went back to study Digital Design at the LCC.  Flash forward a few years of being a Design Assistant and establishing myself as an illustrator/printmaker and here I am.

I think I have always wanted to do it but when I was at school it wasn't such an established career choice and I wasn't convinced I could make a living at it.  

What are your favourite things to illustrate?

Animals are hecka fun to draw.  And plants and flowers.  Organic things.  I'm not crazy about drawing straight, clean lines...

Hope that's okay!

Mat