#I’d pay a lot of money for some decent photos of myself

[waittheydontloveyou]

Lol someone took a photo of me (first time in prob decades) and I fucking hate the photo but love the sentiment 🙈🥰

[bisluthq]

No, because it's so weird he can't even post his little silly photodump without causing a commotion among swifties, who say he's so irrelevant yet act like they have his notifs on and take screenshots of what he posts. His name ended up on the trends thing on Twitter 💀 I actually saw someone posting a screenshot of a gc she's in where they were mocking him for the golf clip. I mean????

But I saw something even more ridiculous to me because it's highkey coming from a place of privilege and entitlement. I saw a tweet (and it wasn't one of those with 10 likes and no comments. There actually were hundreds of likes and people on the comments joining the op on their mockery), where this person was laughing at Joe because of the phone he took a photo with.

And you might be thinking what's the fun about that? Well op thought it was fun that she has a more recent phone model than him, so she was like even I have a better phone that's how poor he is. And people in the comments were commenting the phones they have aswell and laughing about how his phone is an old model cause Taylor must have given it to him and hahahaha even I bought a better phone and he didn't.

Like can y'all stop to ponder the absurdity of it all? According to them his phone is a 11 whatever idk much about or care about phones myself, and you are bragging cause you have a 12, 14 etc? And you are calling someone poor and equating someone's value over the phone they have? Like jesus that's the kind of bullying kids do it in schools, you are grown adults and still have this kind of elitism? So Joe seems to have a perfectly working phone and he's in the wrong for not wasting his money on a better model, because people on the internet think that's what you should do even if you don't need it? You are the dumb ones if you keep giving money to millionaire companies, just so you fit in or whatever

but I’ve said many times swifties’ attitude to money baffles the fuck out of me. That’s not even high school bullying - that’s like straight up middle school bullying. Fwiw my partner and I both have the 11 too (weird coincidence but yea neither of us has upgraded). He’s super techy but like there’s nothing he needs a newer phone for tbh because he wouldn’t be able to work off even a 14 Max Pro or w/e (he has an iMac and a desktop PC and he has like a very new iPad that he can do some stuff off of when we travel but also mostly because he needed a new iPad lol because his was really fuck old so then idk he bought himself a new one). Unless you’re working off your phone/an influencer there is no reason to get a new phone. It can do pretty much all the same things, the 14’s camera is just a lot better. But like Joe doesn’t need to use his phone for work and even for his very hobby photography seems to prefer his film ones so like?? Why must he upgrade?? And I’m not saying if you did upgrade even though you don’t need it because idk your shiny new phone makes you happy that’s bad or shallow because silly little materialistic things are allowed to make us happy tbh. What I’m saying is it’s VERY middle school to bully someone for having a perfectly adequate thing just because you’ve got a newer or more expensive thing?? Now ALSO because Joe isn’t actually in any way poor like if he had let’s say a Galaxy A13 I’d have a chuckle about it and be like “mate buy a new phone come the fuck on” because like… the Galaxy A13 can’t even support Google Pay right and a functioning person with a decent job in this here year 2024 should be able to pay with their phone places (this is actually not a fictional example lol a friend of mine who can absolutely afford a new phone has an A13 and I laugh at her about it because there are legit so many things it cannot do but she’s very paranoid and technophobic so like the Google Pay thing for example she’s all like “yes but what happens if your phone gets stolen then all your money can be stolen” and I’m always like “not… really?” and idk her and I went to a bar the one time and she hadn’t brought her card because she’s also parry about THAT when she drinks which actually I do understand because that I’m also careful about because like losing your card can really be a nightmare seeing as how you then need a new card and all the saved card details everywhere disappear and you no longer have Apple/Google Pay etc etc etc so yes that would highkey suck and is why I just use my phone instead and have my cards at home and anyway the bar turned out to be cashless so I had to pay the whole tab - with my phone like a NORMAL FUCKING PERSON - and she did give the cash right away but still that’s like dysfunctional af lol babe JUST BUY A NEW FUCKING PHONE!!!! YOU HAVE A GOOD JOB!!!! YOU CAN AFFORD IT!!!!!!) anyway that was a sidebar but yea if Joe legit had a crappy phone then I would possibly be like “come tf on dude get your shit together pretty much anyone with a normal income can afford a better thing than that and your thing is objectively useless” but he has a perfectly adequate thing??? So what’s the conversation even about?????? PS if you legit can’t afford a nice phone that’s also not something to mock. But my friend can absolutely afford a phone that supports Google Pay/Apple Pay and she’s being weird about it so I’m allowed to mock it. Also she’s actually super into like photography for fun and I’ve tried to explain the camera on her phone is also like very shitty and it’d be better with a new phone but she steadfastly refuses and uses a digital camera instead mostly which idk man idk like I’d get it if it were film but it’s a random ass mid range digital camera and THAT she’ll take out with us like we live in fucking 2008 dudes and then she makes a whole song and dance the next day about “sending everyone the pics” exactly like it’s 2008 again. That shit’s weird. She’s a weird girl. Still nothing she does is as weird as Swifties get when talking about money tho.

[calamityandme]

I took R to a doctors appointment this morning. I sat in the office and offered emotional support and someone to talk to.

Then we went shopping. She offered to buy me some groceries. I wanted to cry in that moment because I’ve needed a razor for shaving for so long. She bought me a razor, some whipped cream cheese and strawberries. She is very considerate and I know she would have bought me more things if I’d let her.

Then I brought her back to her home and we said goodbye. I got $40, not bad for 2.5 hours of work plus some groceries. I kept the cash to save for rent. We’re paying on the 4th this month because I accidentally paid my other bill early and used most of my rent money. Luckily our landlord is understanding.

Now I’m home. I made myself some frozen cream cheese wontons for “breakfast” or my first meal of the day. Ate some dumplings for lunch with a pop tart later.

I really, really need to shave my legs. I just haven’t been able to do a decent job because the only razors I’ve had are those crappy disposable ones you use on vacation, desperately shaving your pits and bikini line before you hit the hotel pool. I am planning on taking a bath today and shaving my legs? We’ll see.

I’ve been looking for clothes to wear for engagement photos today since getting off work. I want something within my budget, within my color scheme, and fits my large beautifulness lol. It’s hard. I think I found one outfit but I’m still looking for a second.

I was going to consider buying Lizzo’s shape wear from Yitty but with what’s in the news today about her being sued, maybe not. I’ll look for something good.

I wish I had the energy to exercise today but I am just exhausted. After Danny went to work I spontaneously moved the living room furniture and vacuumed again. I am probably sore now that I’m thinking about it? But I need to exercise more. At least I’ll get some exercise tomorrow cleaning R’s house.

I am making a crockpot dinner tonight. I know this is considered gross but I’m using chicken that’s a couple days past it’s expiration. I smelled it and checked it for spoilage but it looks good. I plan on trying a bite and if it’s bad I’ll throw it out. I just don’t have a lot of meat right now to cook with lol. I don’t normally do this. Fingers crossed I don’t get us sick.

I wish I felt like writing fiction. I haven’t in a while. It’s good I’ve been writing about my daily life, but I wish I was doing more. That’s how it always goes. Maybe I’ll be more open to it.

I’m hoping tomorrow will be good to me.

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 3

AN: Okay so I know things are going a little slow paced at the moment but I promise things will start to pick up over the next few chapters. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: It’s the last day of the tournament and Benny feels bad about what happened the previous night 

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3,493

Warnings: Some unwanted touching here at the beginning in italics, some drinking, none really

A hand glided up from your knee along your thigh. The fingers felt rough against your skin and your stomach twisted into a knot as the touch went further up your leg. You tried to move your leg away but his fingers dug into your skin keeping you there. 

“Don’t play hard to get now...” 

You gasped loudly as you shot up from your pillow. The cold air hit your lungs like a flood as you struggled to catch your breath. 

It was 5am. 

You were covered in sweat.

You stared into the darkness ahead of you, eyes wide open with any feeling of tiredness gone. 

Your hands shook as you reached for the light switch, turning it on before jumping out of your bed to open the curtains. 

The sun was barely rising outside. 

Your nightie clung to you awkwardly due to the sweat so you headed into the bathroom, stripping of it. 

You didn’t look in the mirror as you turned on the shower. You hated the way you looked after the dreams. You always looked like a ghost. 

Not that you had had the dreams for a while now. 

You took your time in the shower, you had brought your portable radio into the bathroom so you weren’t left alone with your own thoughts.

You hummed quietly to the songs that played on the early morning station; you closed your eyes and tried to picture that you were showering in your old apartment in France with Angelie making morning coffee and croissants in the kitchen.

It brought you some sense of calm. 

When you finished in the bathroom, the sun was rising. You took a moment to admire the colours in the sky before sitting down at your dresser to apply some make up and dry your hair. 

As your eyes found your reflection, you sighed. You reached across for one of your powders and a brush before turning the music up to stop thinking about the day ahead. 

It was early enough for you to be one of the first in the restaurant for breakfast and so you found yourself nibbling on bagel with some coffee in your other hand. 

It was the last day of the tournament. 

Benny Watts vs Victor Miesser. 

Once you grew tired of picking at the bagel you went ahead to the games room where only one table was set up ready for the final match in the afternoon. 

You looked down at the board, picking up the white queen which you knew would be Benny’s later. 

“Don’t be tampering with my chess pieces because I pissed you off last night.” 

“Little early for you, Mr Watts?” You didn’t even need to turn to know who had come in. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He admitted, walking up beside you to look down at the board himself. “Found myself thinking what an ass move it was to just burst into somebody’s hotel room and start rummaging through their private belongings.” 

“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling a little at his attempted apology. 

“Really.” Benny nodded, “So, I figured I’d find the girl I so rudely vexed and apologise.” Benny sent you a side glance which you returned.

“Apology accepted on the conditions that he doesn’t do it again and agrees to a photograph for the magazine.” You felt as if you should apologise too for the way you handled it the previous night but you fought against it, he was the one in the wrong after all. 

“Conditions accepted.” Benny held out his hand and you waited a second, smiling, before you took it. 

“Perfect.” You dug into your bag and pulled out your camera. “If you could sit down? Now would be the perfect time for a photograph since no one is around to distract you.”

“Distract me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Benny furrowed his eyebrows at you, chuckling as he sat himself down. 

You rolled your eyes at the man and decided not to answer as you checked the lighting for the photo. 

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of shoots before so if you could just relax the shoulders a little and look at the camera as you sit beside the board.” You directed him as he shifted in his seat. 

“Like this?” Benny asked with a smirk as he rested his elbow on the table beside the board. 

You took the photo. 

“Now look down at the board like you’re focusing on a hard game.” You tried to ignore his playful tone as you photographed him. 

Benny switched to link his fingers below his chin and stare down at the board. 

“Great.” You stepped forward and lifted the brim of his hat slightly your with finger. Benny’s eyes looked up as you did. “Sorry.” You muttered before stepping away again. 

“One more if you don’t mind.” You asked as you picked up the queen. 

“If you just prop your feet up on the corner of the table and lean back into your chair.” You gestured to the table and Benny did as he was told. “Now, hold this and look at it like this.” 

You held the chess piece with your thumb and index finger above your head so it was tilted. Benny seemed to smirk again as he took the piece from you to copy the pose. 

You snapped a few more shots before allowing him to relax. 

“Thank you. It’s more likely I’ll get the first few pages if I have a decent photo to go with the piece.” You explained, tucking the camera away. 

“And here I thought I’d make the cover.” Benny stood up from his seat, straightening his jacket. 

“I can’t make any promises I’m afraid. This’ll be the biggest piece the magazine has allowed me to write yet.” You confessed, pulling out your notepad and pen. 

“You're telling me you left Paris of all places to write pity pieces and small town coverage for Chess Review?” Benny raised his eyebrows at you, seemingly surprised at your decision. 

“I’ll work my way up eventually. I always do.” You shrugged your shoulders, paying no mind to his judgement.

“I don’t doubt it.” Benny replied. 

“I saw you in Paris last year, you know.” You tried changing the topic onto him so you could try and get some more questions in for the interview. 

“Really?” Benny asked, 

“I mean I wasn’t paying too much attention to you since I was writing a headline piece on Borgov but I saw you. No one can stick out like sore thumb in aa chess tournament quite like Benny Watts.” You admitted. 

“I’ll try and take that as a compliment.” Benny laughed lightly as he fiddled with the top of the chair he was leaning on. 

“Well you are constantly praised for you twist on the ‘regular’ chess player with your style and your hair and your knife...” You couldn’t help but point to the holster on his hip. 

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked, looking down at his knife then back up at you.

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “I was wondering Mr Watts since I have you here now, we could finish off that interview?”

You watched Benny check his watch before taking a minute to decide. 

“Alright but only if we go someplace else. It’s too stuffy in here.” Benny agreed, pushing off the back of the chair and walking towards the exit. 

“Outside?” You suggested. 

You both walked side by side outside the hotel then down into some gardens where you found an old small concrete bench to perch on. 

“Shall we continue from where we started?” You asked, getting your prepared questions out. “Ready?”

“Ready.” 

“Mr Watts, you recently stated you were here because of Beth Harmon. When was it she first caught your eye as a potential competitor?” You asked, 

“I guess it was just like everyone else. Once it got out that she defeated Beltik at such a young age and at her very first tournament, I think she grabbed everyone’s eye in the chess world.” He admitted, looking out across the green as he spoke. 

“Do you believe she could beat you for your US title?” 

“I think we’ll have to see how it plays out when I finally get to play her.” Benny seemingly almost found the question amusing.

“Where are you playing next? Do you know?” You crossed off questions you’d already asked before as you spoke. 

“I try not to play too many opens nowadays but I like the practise. The US open will roll around again soon which I’ll be heading too. I tend to go to events where I’ve been invited or I feel like attending. It’s not necessarily planned.” Benny held out his arm, pushing straight line with hand to signal him looking into the future. 

“And what about Europe?” 

“I like playing in Europe. I get invited from time to time but the jet lag really gets me sometimes.” Benny started, “Off the record, how come I haven’t seen you in Paris before if you’d seen me?”

The question took you back for a moment as the flow was now interrupted. 

“There’s a lot of reporters in Paris, Mr Watts. It’s no surprise to me that you didn’t notice me.”

“It is to me.” Benny towards you, leaning on his hand with his finger on his chin.

“A girl can be easily hidden in a crowd full of men, Mr Watts.” You felt your heart start to race as Benny stared at you. 

“Anyway, back to the questions...” You tried to shake it off. “Is there anyone in your life at the moment, Mr Watts? Someone else you like to play chess with?” You almost cringed at the question but you knew the female readers would eat it up. 

“Are you asking for you or for the magazine?” Benny smirked. 

You sent him a look which only made him laugh. 

“No, there’s no one at the moment. Only a few of the guys in New York who like to play speed chess with me just to lose their money.” Benny’s joke made you roll your eyes but he could tell it was lighthearted. 

“And final question, Mr Watts, how does it feel being the undefeated champion in the United States?” 

“It feels great. But I’m looking forward to some new competition. You can only play Victor Miesser so many times.” Benny took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. His blond locks moved with his fingers and a small strand fell back down to his eye.

“Be careful what you wish for, Watts.” You let it slip out as you watched the man.

Benny started to laugh again. 

“I didn’t–––” You went to apologise when he cut you short. 

“––It’s true. One day someone will probably beat me.” 

You closed your notepad and tucked your pen away as you nodded your head, not knowing how else to respond. 

“What are you doing after the tournament?” Benny asked you. 

“I’ll probably stay here in the hotel for a couple of days, get the final draft written then typed up then sent off to the magazine along with the photos. By then they should have another spot for me to travel to and if not then I’ll return to my flat in Massachusetts. My recent tenant just moved out so I actually could stay there for once.” You explained, hooking the hair out of your face as the wind picked up. 

“Massachusetts?” Benny cocked his eyebrow. 

“Yeah. I bought the flat just before I decided to leave the US, rented it out during the years I was in Paris. I had someone new living there for the past 5 months but they recently moved out. I’m never usually there so...”

“Why Massachusetts though?” Benny folded his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles as he leant back.

“My Mom grew up in Greenfield, Massachusetts. She always loved the countryside, the forests when it was fall were her favourite anywhere we went really. I live in Boston though, Greenfield was a bit too small town for me.” You explained, smiling as a memory resurfaced of your mother diving into a pile of yellow, auburn and brown leaves. 

“You know Boston isn’t that far from New York. If you change your mind about that chess game, I don’t hate the idea of company?” Benny suggested, his eyes searching your face for an answer. 

“I don’t think so, Benny.” You rose from the bench and smiled down at the man. 

Benny smirked at the use of his name instead of ‘Mr Watts’. 

“Good luck for this afternoon. Perhaps I’ll see you at another tournament soon.” You dismissed yourself before Benny could try and persuade you to come to New York with him. 

You spent the rest of the morning sorting your notes together and clearing up your hotel room before the afternoon game went ahead. 

You had taken your film to be developed whilst you were watching the game so it’d be ready in the evening.

You watched Benny dominate Miesser in less than 20 moves and then you watched Miesser strut off in a strop. Another loss to the Benny Watts.

You were amused by the fact that Benny didn’t even seem to break a sweat or show a single crease in his forehead. He really did find it all too easy, didn’t he?

You applauded with the rest of the onlookers before disappearing to take your notes on the game upstairs to write it up again in short form so the readers could see the game through the piece. 

You went ahead to pick up the prints before dinner and you were impressed with your own photography skills. 

Benny was extremely photogenic there was no lie in that and you couldn’t help but admire the photographs due to your own skill and his attractiveness. 

You put the photos up in your room along with the pages you had before heading for some food. 

You were famished and you knew the restaurant would be quieter due to the tournament ending that day. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” One of the hosts approached you as you neared the restaurant entrance. 

“Yes?” You replied. 

“Mr Benny Watts has requested you join him for dinner.” He guided his hand towards one of the back tables where Benny was sat alone for once.

You were hesitant to join him but once he had spotted you there was no turning back. 

“Mr Watts?” You greeted him, still confused by his invitation. 

“(Y/n).” He stood when you approached the table which was something you hadn’t expected him to do. “I felt like my apology earlier wasn’t exactly a great one so I figured dinner would be a good alternative.” 

“You really didn’t have to...” You started, sitting down opposite him. 

“How’s the article coming along?” He ignored your objections as he too sat back down.

“Fine.” You stated. 

“Just fine?” Benny smirked, looking up at you from the menu in front of him. 

“Yes.” You said as you picked up your own. 

There was a silence. 

“How old were you when you first played Chess?” Benny asked out of the blue. 

“Five.” You told him. “I wouldn’t say I was any good. My father taught me but I know I first picked up the pieces when I was five.” 

“And how old were you when you decided you weren’t good enough?” Benny’s words felt like ice to your warm cheek.

“Seventeen.” You told him honestly. 

“Seventeen.” Benny repeated what you had said. “Seventeen is awfully young to be deciding you weren’t good enough.” 

“I had been playing years by then–––”

“––It sounds like you gave up to early.” Benny folded his hands together as he placed his elbows on the table. 

“Are we going to discuss my playing chess all evening or shall I just eat elsewhere?” You were tired of the constant questions. This man didn’t know you. You didn’t need to explain yourself to him. 

“Sorry.” Benny held his hands out almost in surrender. “So, Boston?”

“Or discuss me being close enough to visit New York to play chess with you.”

Benny chuckled quietly. 

“What is it about me, Benny Watts?” You asked him honestly. Why was he so interested in your chess playing after one weekend of knowing each other?

“I don’t know.” Benny confessed, “Curiosity, I guess.”

“Well, Mr Watts...” You sipped on the cocktail just put in front of you, “...Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Maybe it’s the fact you’re one of the first girl reporters I’ve seen cover Chess before.”

“I am the only one employed at Chess Review.” You didn’t know why you told him that but you did. “Journalism is a more cut throat industry than you’d expect, Mr Watts.”

“I could say the same thing about Chess but being a reporter you already know that.” Benny leant back in his chair now, waving over a waiter so you could finally order some food.

“I know too well.” You chuckled weakly. 

You both ordered some food and you let Benny talk about himself which he did with ease. 

He mainly spoke about Chess openings, ones he favoured, ones he disliked, who he had read recently and what changes he had made to his play over the past couple tournaments. 

You were thankful he didn’t try interrogating you again.

After you finished eating you left the restaurant together. 

“Me and some others who are still here for the night are gonna have a few beers and play some speed chess, wanna join?” Benny asked, pointing behind him to the bar area. 

You went to open your mouth when Benny stopped you. 

“And before you say anything, no you don’t have to play, you can just watch.” 

“Tempting.” You admitted. 

“Then say yes?” Benny urged you, already taking a step backwards towards the bar. 

“Are you always this pushy, Benny?” You couldn’t help but let a smile cross your lips. 

“Uh, yep.” Benny bit down on lower lip, his hands on his hips as he answered.

“One drink.” You gave in, following the man into bar where a table of speed chess was already being played. 

When Benny approached the table, one of the seats freed up for him and Benny offered you a seat beside the table so you could spectate. 

You ordered yourself a drink and took it with you to the table so you could drink and watch. 

You were immediately mesmerised by the speed the players could go and within mere minutes Benny had won his first round, taking five dollars off his opponent. 

“You know, Benny, you might want to take it easy or people won’t actually want to play you anymore.” You told him with a smirk on your face that made him smile. 

You stayed longer than you expected to. One drink turned into three or four and it was late by the time Benny ran out of opponents. 

Benny walked with you to the elevator then up to the floor you were both on. 

You were tired and the alcohol had given you a warm buzz. You leant against the wall of the elevator with your eyes closed and a sleep smile on your face. 

“Come on, it’s our floor.” Benny held out his arm and you wrapped your hand around his bicep to help you out of the elevator.

He walked you up to your hotel room door and you found your key to go inside.

“Night Benny.” You murmured as you stepped into your room. 

Benny leant in the door way, his hand gripping the pane above him as he watched you walk over to your bed. 

“Goodnight Miss (Y/L/N).” And with that, he leant in to take the doorknob and closed the door. 

When you woke up in the morning you weren’t in your nightie but your underwear. You must've just stripped last night because you were so tired. 

You heard a knock on your door but you groaned and rolled over onto your stomach. Covering your head with your pillow. 

There was another knock. 

You waited a second, gaining the energy to stand. 

You slid on your robe and trudged over to the door. 

You opened it to see no one outside but down by your feet was a stack of three books with a note on top of them. 

You picked them up and opened the folded bit of paper. 

I’m going back to New York. Read these then call me. – B.W.

You looked through the books he had given you and the one right on the top was his own. You shook your head smiling down at the boy on the cover. 

You peered forward, looking down the corridor to see no one but the housekeepers. 

You stepped back inside and reread the note.

Call me – B.W. 

(PART 4 HERE)

TAG LIST

@sumebreaks​ @rainbowpowaa​ @momsteeeve​ @timelesstay​ @carostar2020​ @rose-moon-mist​ @alwaysbeanunknownfan​ @liatlyn​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @supercalifragilisticprincess​ @blushingpogue​ @heartofeden​ @airwaveee​ @subaehun​ @gonnashinelikestars​ @soundbreaker-harms​ @gothicwidowsworld​ @leilanixx​ @gold-star-for-me​ @number-0-iz​ @goinggoinggonzo​ @iiwontgiveuponmilkk​ @screw-this-reality​ @tearvnclw​ @reecebib​

[chaletnz]

Lake Atitlan: San Pedro & Santiago

In San Pedro the tuk tuks were even crazier than elsewhere in Guatemala that I’d seen so far - or maybe there was more traffic and narrower streets so it just seemed like there were more close calls! This town was very dirty, with a huge amount of stray dogs running around in the streets, it also seemed to be interestingly targeted towards Israelis with a lot of signs and menus in Hebrew. My overall impression of San Pedro was that it's there for partying and/or doing a Spanish school! We didn't spend too much time here and moved on to our final stop around Lake Atitlan which was the village of Santiago. It’s home to 60,000 people, one of them being a friend of our guide Elena who would be showing us around. Her demeanour during the tour was disinterested and bored but her friend was great, I wished the entire tour could’ve been with him! Our next part of the tour was in tuk tuks so the French couple rode with Elena, and myself and Toyoda-san rode in the other. Our first stop was at a local home where some old Guatemalan ladies were selling their traditional garments, one of the ladies put on the Guatemalan headdress as featured on the back of one of the quetzales coins. We hopped back in the tuk tuk with the Star of David displayed proudly on the back and the name Bethlehem emblazoned on the front (all tuk tuks have a name on the front). The next destination was a visit to the shaman’s house to see how people worship in an ancient Mayan ceremony, though it seemed more like a chance to get money from tourists for the right to take a photo. None of us opted to pay for this ticket. Our guide also told us that the Mayan history is very important in this area of Guatemala, there are 22 different Mayan languages spoken around Lake Atitlan. Elena speaks one and her friend spoke two, of course both also speak Spanish as the lingua franca of the country as well as English for guiding. We returned to the Colonial church again to go inside and see how it's a mix of Christian portraits and Mayan motifs. We were then taken to an art gallery which had a running theme of painting local scenes from the view of a bird, or the opposite view like a loaf of bread at the market. Our final stop was atop a hill with a view out into the inner bay. Our group had lunch at Cafe Arte near the marina, our meals came out as we had ordered. I had a chicken burrito and a mocha latte which was decent considering it definitely was not a specialty coffeeshop! The four of us chatted over our lunch about our travels and backgrounds and plans for the rest of our trip after today. We sat in this restaurant waiting for Elena to eventually get the group together and take us back to the boat to ride back to Panajachel. Once we returned she rushed us back to the tour office but our transport was still half an hour away. She wanted to have us sit on the curb and wait for it but I insisted on being allowed to go browse the market stalls down the street. I took it upon myself to inform the others of the departure time for the bus and then headed off in search of a bracelet and a hoodie. I didn't find a suitable bracelet but I found a nice zip up jacket that I had been looking to get to have at work in the office. It was only 50 quetzales ($8) which was fantastic because the first stall where I saw a similar one was 150. I snapped it up and wore it on the long windy bus ride back to Antigua. Part way through the journey we seemed to turn a corner and the rain suddenly came lashing down for a while but then it was gone and dry by the time we were in Antigua. The driver dropped me right at the door so I could ditch my bag and then go for a walk around the city. I headed out to the market but it was closing so I picked up a big bottle of water and grabbed a quesadilla from Taco Bell before turning in for the night since tomorrow would be my one day in Antigua alone before joining the Intrepid Travel tour group in the evening.

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. ��What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[skrltwtch]

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊��

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

[eldritchsurveys]

1090.

Can you say you are fully happy right now? >> Some surveys have such standard and generic questions that I can’t rightly tell if I’ve already taken it. This is one of those, and because it’s so long I’m hoping to god I don’t get to the middle of it and be like “oh. I did this literally last week” lmao. Fingers crossed. I don’t know what “fully happy” means. I took my walk like I promised myself, and I made an offering and am now drinking it (it’s delicious, a dessert stout called Big Luscious), so I’m on track for how I wanted my day to go. And I’m not triggered or having any kind of episode, so I’m okay there. Which means I am currently stable, which is a great place to be (considering the alternatives).

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? >> It’s possible, I guess.

Is there someone who stopped talking to you for no reason? >> I mean, probably, at some point. Ghosting is a common thing these days, for some reason.

Did you ever get called horrible names like (whore, skank, bitch)? >> Sure.

Where did you sleep last night? >> In my bed.

Ever slow danced with anyone? >> Yes, outworld and Inworld. Inworld is obviously the best, though. ~

Ever cried in public? >> Yes. Privacy and solitude was a rarity and a luxury for most of my life, so I had no real choice.

Ever feel safe in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. I don’t know what that’s like outworld.

What would you do if you were pregnant? >> Die.

Are you afraid of letting anyone in? >> So, I have disordered attachment, am a product of CEN and CSA, and have resultant CPTSD. You do the math. (*makes some kind of joke about how it’s probably gonna be algebra because of all the acronyms--*)

Do you like cuddling? >> I love it Inworld. It basically gets me through everything. I would basically remain glued to Can Calah at all times if I could (and on some bad days, I do). Outworld is a completely different story because of the things mentioned just above.

Ever cry in school? >> I’m sure I have.

Who is the last person to send you a message on facebook? >> Probably Casey, like a month and a half ago.

Do you look decent when you wake up? >> Why am I paying attention to how I look when I wake up? I’m in bed. Who the fuck am I performing for? -___-’

Have you ever been given roses? >> No.

Had a long distance relationship? >> Yes.

Does it bother you when people never answer their cell phones? >> Why would that bother me? I am also one of those people. Oh, I guess you mean, like... I call a person, they never answer... hah, as if I would ever call a person. This is totally outside my experience.

Do you care what happens in politics/your government? >> I mean... here’s the thing. I care in the sense that I’m not totally disconnected from the effects of politics on people like me. But the realm of politics, specifically, is so alien to me that I have no idea what to do about it except halfheartedly vote and hope for the best? I don’t know how much more I’m supposed to care. I hate the political system, period, I want nothing to do with it. People assume that anyone that feels that way must be privileged and unaffected by politics, but I guess their shortsightedness about how different people can experience and feel about things is not my problem.

Ever been called babe/baby? >> Sparrow says “babe”.

Have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act (not necessarily sex)? >> Yes.

Where did you get drunk last? >> I don’t remember. I don’t get drunk anymore, I just like to drink a beverage and enjoy the taste and slight buzz. Like right now, it’ll probably take me the next hour or two to finish this stout, but that’s the way I like to drink. Slowly and comfortably.

What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? >> I’m married to her.

If someone went through your pictures, would they find a dirty one? >> Nope. The only time I ever took nudes was just for the fun of it, not to be sexual or anything. Just enjoying having a human body (god, I wish that were me now...). But that was a long time ago and none of those photos are available anywhere anymore.

Do you want to see anyone right now? >> No.

Have you ever fell asleep in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. Outworld, no.

How long does it take for you to fall asleep at night? >> About a half-hour after laying down, usually. Some nights a little longer, but then I just catch up on my reading.

How many pillows are on your bed >> Two.

When’s the last time you cried? >> Yesterday.

Is it cute when a guy buys you flowers? >> I mean, I’d require more context than that. If I’m friends with a guy and he’s like “I saw these flowers and thought of you!” that’d be adorable. I do love flowers, thanks for thinking of me! Also, I’ll probably use them as an offering, so double win. If some random guy sent me flowers, I’d be a bit disturbed and put-off.

Will things change in the next month? >> I mean, yes. That’s how it works.

How did you do on the last test you took? >> ---

Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t? >> I mean, yeah. Are you afraid to grow up? >> ---

Are you busy tomorrow? >> Probably not, unless something really unpredictable and abnormal happens. I might be plenty busy playing FFXIV, though, considering I can’t today because it’s patch day.

How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? >> It’s an undershirt, idk how long I’ve had it.

Do you give out second chances way too easily? >> Er, I assume not? I’m not usually in this kind of situation.

Has anyone told you that you’re amazing? >> Yes.

How many black shirts do you own? >> Like 15. For reference, I own like 20 shirts total.

Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? >> I don’t see why I wouldn’t be. A lot of weird and sudden shit would have to happen to change that.

How come you’re not going out with the person you like? >> ---

When you feel cold does eating warm food help you feel warm? >> I don’t know. I do feel warmer after eating, just in general, probably because of the blood moving around to start digestion.

Do you want to diet? >> No. No I fucking do not. Don’t even suggest that to me.

Are you unsure about your feelings for someone? >> I’m not unsure about my feelings for anyone. I know how I feel about people. It’s other people whose feelings are a complete mystery to me.

Who did you last hang out with? >> Sparrow, because we live together.

Would you take $40,000 or a brand new car? >> I mean, obviously the money, since I can’t drive and don’t want to...

What song are you currently listening to? >> None.

Are you happy with your relationship? >> It’s fine.

Who was the last person to smoke something other than a cigarette or weed in front of you? >> Other than a cigarette or weed?? So, like... crack???? I really couldn’t say. It’d be years ago.

Does anything on your body hurt? >> Not right now.

If the last person you kissed were calling you right now, would you answer? >> I would, because if she’s calling me, then it must be a real ass emergency. Or probably like an EMT using her phone to find an emergency contact. So yeah, I’d answer. One of the very rare times I’d answer my phone.

In the run of a week, how many times do you straighten your hair? >> ---

Are you mad at someone right now? >> Nope.

Last thing someone gave you? >> I don’t remember.

Who woke you up this morning? >> Just me, naturally.

Who is your favorite family member on your mom’s side? >> ---

What do you do in your spare time? >> All my time is "spare” time, by other people’s standards, so, uh...

Who was the last person you were under a blanket with? >> Just Can Calah. :B

Where is the last person you kissed? >> Inworld.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips, breakfast. I’ll probably grab some lunch and queue up a movie after this.

Which of your friends is the most likely to get pregnant right now? >> ---

Do you remember the meanest thing the last person you kissed ever said to you? >> I don’t think she’s said anything particularly vicious to me. Just... kind of thoughtless things, I guess, earlier on.

What does your last outgoing text say? >> It was a link to a TikTok of a cute dog.

Have you ever been called prince/ princess? >> No.

Waiting for something? >> No. Well, the Dinnerly box, which is gonna get here eventually and which I’ll have to go downstairs to retrieve and then unpack.

Have you kissed anyone when you’re single? >> Yes.

What are you doing this weekend? >> I imagine the same things we do every other weekend in these COVID times.

Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette? >> I imagine so.

Have you ever kissed someone who was in a relationship? >> Yeah. Where is your biological father right now? >> ---

Where is the biggest scar on your body? >> Probably the one on my face. How late did you stay up last night? >> Not very. I think I went to sleep shortly after 11. Have you had your birthday this year yet? >> Yeah, in May. You had to kiss the last person you texted, would you? >> I mean, I have. What would you call your body type? >> I don’t want to call it anything. Are you a morning person? >> Yes. Have you ever been to Target? >> Yes, many times. Do you like iced coffee? >> It’s okay. When is the next time you’ll be at work? >> --- Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? >> Not that I can recall. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? >> Probably not. I take that kind of shit super fucking hard. Ever made a prank phone call? >> No. Does your mom vacuum early in the morning, when you’re sleeping? >> --- Have you ever been in a car accident? >> No.

Have you ever been in a fist fight with someone? >> Yes.

Have you ever seriously hurt anyone by mistake? >> Physically? I assume not. Have you ever had stitches? >> Yes. Name a time when you had to be strong. >> Like... all the time? I don’t really know how to answer this. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? >> The first two, no, because my parents were not together. The third, yes. Have you ever lost someone close to death? if so, how many? >> Once. Have you ever had any volunteer jobs? >> No. Have you gone through a lot emotionally growing up? >> Obviously. Has a boy/girl ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend for you? >> I really would not want anyone to do that. Anyone that can disrespect the rules of their current relationship so flagrantly is going to disrespect me next. Also, that’s a messed up thing to do to the third party, too. Do you want to see someone this very minute? >> Not especially. Unless it’s D. :)

Are you happy with the way things are going? >> Some things, sure. Are you a forgiving person? >> Sometimes, I guess. It’s not what I’d call a character trait of mine, though. Do you have to check in with your parents before you go someplace? >> --- Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? >> --- Describe how you feel about your life in the past month using one word: >> I cannot do that. Would you like to go back and change any part of your life? >> I mean, I don’t know. I am who I am, and that’s because of what I’ve experienced. I don’t know who I’d be otherwise, and I do like myself and I want to continue being myself, so... I have to take the bitter with the... less bitter. When will your next kiss be? >> I don’t know, whenever I want it to be. Last person you saw other than your family? >> --- Will tomorrow be better than today? >> I mean, today was pretty okay, so if tomorrow’s even better than today, boy howdy. Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? >> No. What’s going through your mind right now? >> I’m just taking this survey, dude. That’s all I’m thinking about. When’s the last time you had fast food? >> Day before Thanksgiving. Do you believe that there’s good in everybody? >> I mean, I guess, if we have to put it that way. I just think that people are largely alike, and that if I can see the “shadow self” in me and everyone that is capable of many of the evils of the world, then I don’t see why I can’t also see the “higher self” in me and everyone that is capable of the beautiful things that people do for and with each other. These divisions always make me twitch a little because I think making it a dichotomy misses the real point a bit, but I haven’t run into better words for this yet so I’m doing my best with what I’ve got. Is it okay if you kiss people when you’re single? >> ... When was the last time you saw someone attractive? >> I mean, I can see Can Calah or King Crimson whenever I want. :B What was the first thing you did when you woke up? >> Probably reached for my phone to see what time it was. Think back eight months ago, were you single? >> No. What do you carry with you at all times? >> Myself :) Are you okay with the life you live? >> I’m okay with a lot of it. Way more okay with the lives I’ve had to lead before.

Do you have a Tattoo? >> Yes. What other piercings would you get other than the ones you already have? >> I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it because I’ve been so focused on tattoos in recent times. I’d just rather have ink. Did your last kiss take place on a bed? >> Probably. Have you ever been to Disney World? >> No. If so, how many times have you been? >> --- Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? >> Meh. Like, here’s the thing -- even if I don’t capitalise proper nouns or use dialect grammar as opposed to “proper” (don’t get me started on the connotations of that term) grammar, I can still be understood. And that’s the whole fucking point. I use the social standard for grammar and capitalisation when it’s necessary, and for some reason I’ve been taking surveys with the social standard of English for so long that it’s a habit by now, but I’m not obsessed with it. I love being able to code-switch and I love using vernacular and I love “Internet dialect/grammar” and all of that. Language in all its forms, unrestrained, is just so. fucking. cool. Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? >> Sure, I like the orderly origami-like process of wrapping. Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? >> No, it’s in Sparrow’s (bigger) room. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? >> I enjoy big dinners and small dinners. I assume by “big” you mean “lots of food”, not... “big” as in “lots of people”, because that I do not enjoy. Is your vision good? >> Yes. Is your present hair color, natural? >> Yes. What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A crystal. Fuck, that reminds me, I gotta poke around on Etsy for some stocking stuffer type gifts.   Have you ever worn color contacts? >> Yes, quite often back in the day. If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? >> Almost nine years or something, idk. I’m bad at time math. Where are your parents as of now? >> --- Do you follow a certain religion? >> No. Do you have any family members who live out of town? >> --- Do you consider yourself short? >> Not really. What room are you in? >> Mine. Do you listen to any country music? >> Sure. Do you ever watch Lifetime? >> No. I don’t have cable, but I wouldn’t watch Lifetime even if I did. Would ever consider having children in the future? >> Probably not. Have you ever lived on a farm? >> No. Do both of your parents have jobs? >> --- If you had the chance to move to a completely different state, would you? >> Yes. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? >> Clean my house. IDK, lol. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? >> Oh, stuff. What food are you craving right now? >> I’m not craving anything, even though it’s lunchtime. I have no idea what I want to eat. ...Hmm, egg, rice, and roasted veggies sounds really good but idk if I want to make eggs right now... How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? >> I never was told about him. I kind of vaguely knew he existed from just... cultural saturation, or whatever, but yeah. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? >> A lot. Do you have a friend you can tell stuff to and you’re sure they won’t tell? >> --- Would you ever get someone’s name tattooed on you? >> You know, every time I see this question I totally fucking forget that I already have a person’s name tattooed on me. My X-Files tattoo that matches with Sparrow’s says “scully, it’s me”. Scully is a name lmaoooo So, yeah, I guess the answer is yes.

Does your family have family picnics? >> --- If your doctor said you were pregnant, what would you say? >> “That’s not a funny joke, so please stop”, I mean, what else would I say? That’s literally impossible so the doctor must be trying to pull a funny. A really fucking bad one, too.

[xserpentlife]

Intrigue

Requested: Anon - If I could make a Malachi x reader request if you write Ghoulies? Reader constantly getting into trouble at Riverdale high so she's sent to Southside High after being expelled. When moving to Southside she starts up her mischief again and catches the eyes of the Ghoulies. She gets taken to Malachai for spray painting Ghoulie terf at school and the reader and Malachai instantly click?

A/N: hope you like this!. I also decided to stop doing mood boards unless I have inspiration, forcing myself to make them for every story is pointless. Also, be sure to send in requests because mine are open. 

Word Count: about 1890

*Flashback*

“Look principle Honey, I didn't mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to what Y/N? Dye Briane’s hair blue with her shampoo?”

“Hey, not my fault she stole it out of my shower bag” In reality, it was your fault you hated Briane, a girl constantly causing trouble for anyone she came into contact with. You wanted payback. Payback for the way she talked about your friends, and family. So you played a helpless prank on her, and you got in trouble.

“You still did it on purpose Ms. Y/N”

“And you are proving that how…”

“Ms. Y/N some respect please”

“Mr. Honey, you are talking about respect here when you have none for me. I did nothing wrong to Briane. You are siding with her because of our past. Because she is from the rich side of the North. Years I have been bullied by her and not once did I punch or cause blood, because I am way more of a decent human being then she is, I did nothing wrong Mr. Honey”

“Fine Ms.Y/N I will call it at a draw and you will both have 2 nights of detention” You smiled to yourself. “However, you are on very, very thin ice considering you were just here a week ago for allegedly replacing the dead frogs with live ones in last weeks biology classes.”

“Mr. Honey…”

“No Ms. Y/N like I said thin ice do you understand”

“Yes sir I do”

“Good now get out of my office”

*Flashback Ended*

“For weeks now you had been warned daily of the thin ice you were on with Mr. Honey, but you kept your distance and your cool. You needed school, needed it to get out of riverdale and not have to deal with the treacherous town. You may have done all those things, but they were innocent pranks to only get back at the ones that wronged you. You needed to defend your turf, it was what you were always taught before your parents passed. Your grandmother engraving into your brain that you needed to protect yourself before protecting others.

School had been a hassle, every teacher constantly watching every move you made. Every student trying to get you out. No one at riverdale ever liked you, they always saw you as the problem child. The one who dressed in dark clothes, and caused trouble, but none of them knew you at all, or had been through or known the things that you have. You went by your day to day after the incident with Mr. Honey, trying to stay out of trouble as possible. You got a detention for not doing homework, but you never got in real trouble. That was until science lab 3rd period two weeks into your thin ice warning. You were paired up with Briane, for an experiment where a cloud of white would rise when the chemicals were combined. You were in charge of the base and she was in charge of the reactant. However, as soon as you looked away to wipe your hands off for safety she poured the entire bottle of reactant in before screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Briane! You are interrupting the other students what is the meaning of this”

“Y/N, Ms. Murphy Y/N put the entire bottle into the mixture” You turned around stunned, you hadn’t even been looking when she did it, and then you saw the bubbles arise and begin to pour over the smoke filling the air”

“Everyone out of the classroom this instant, we will have to have it cleared for safety. Ms. Y/Nand Ms. Briane come to the principal's office with me at once!”

“Mr. Honey before you say anything I didn’t do it, I swear on my life, I was washing my hands when it happened, I wasn't even paying attention”

“Ms. Briane would you like to say your side”

“Oh yes Mr. Honey thank you so much. Well I was minding my business writing down our lab results of the temperature because I had poured the base, and when I looked up Y/N was pouring the whole jar in, I tried to stop her but she just kept pouring and then I screamed because I was scared and Ms. Murphy came over. Oh gosh, I don’t know why she would ever think to do that if we had more harmful chemicals we all could have died!”

“Everything will be fine Ms. Briane, you can leave my office now”

“Thank you, sir”

“Now Ms. Y/N”

“Mr. Honey, I promise I didn’t do it”

“Well it seems there are other stories at play here, and in our previous meeting, I told you, thin ice. I have decided to transfer you to Southside High”

“No Mr. honey please!”

“It is out of my hands Ms. Y/N”

“No it is literally in your hands, you incompetent piece of shit, You know what. I am fucking glad that I am not going to be a part of this pretentious north siders can do no wrong school. Good riddens, asshole!”

“Ms...”

“Shut up, I’m grabbing my stuff and you’ll never see me again, and you know what I am sooo glad I don’t have to look at your stupid face ever again”

You left the school on a bad note but did it really matter when you were going to a school that barely had programs let alone taught the kids what they needed to know. It was as if your entire world crashed down. Your grades would decrease, your barely existent social life would now diminish completely, and most of all your mindset. You gave up on being the girl that was good at school, but bad on the outside.

You started not caring, picked up art. Learned how to tag and make it so your print was known enough to be you but not to be identified in your other works. You praised your art teacher and got very close with her very quickly. You confided in her, she herself was a student at Riverdale high at one point, kicked out because she lived on the southside and they found out. You related with her in a way you hadn’t with anyone else, but that didn’t stop you from doing way worse things than shit Riverdale high could ever fathom.

When you first got to southside high you completely painted your locker, not crazy but definitely not allowed. You took money from people, yeah you never spent any of it, actually put it in for charity collections, not that anyone knew that. Everyone knew you as the new kid, that just did bad shit. No one knew why no one knew your background or history and no one cared to know one bit. You liked it that way, you enjoyed the animosity. You then moved from the school to walk around the town after ditching for the day. You luckily still live in the house your parents had once owned on the northside, now it looked like a rundown abandoned building on the outside, guess that matched the way your life was turning. You tagged the entire gas station, then the park moving up the hills and down the valleys tagging everything in your sight. Art was your outlet and the southside, your canvas. You had no idea you caught the eyes of a gang called the ghoulies. You didn’t know the turfs, or the sides, you were just a visitor in a town with many rules and regulations you had no idea about. You made a mistake tagging the run-down building on the corner, officially in ghoulie territory. But no one had caused you trouble before, so you were not expecting to turn around and find 5 men and women around in black studded jackets.

“Hello…”

“NO bitch tagging our turf who the fuck are you”

“Wait… your turf?”

‘Yes, this is Ghoulie territory and we are taking you to the king” You had no idea what they were talking about, you felt a bang against the back of your head before you were out cold. You woke up slowly words being heard around you your vision slowly clearing from the blurriness

“Spraying our turf huh doll?” You have seen this guy, seen him around the school more often than you like to admit. He always seemed to be where you were, lurking around corners, and tagging his own spots how he would like, but you never said a word to him, your rule of keeping to yourself always in the back of your mind. You knew of the ghoulies enough to know people on the northside were afraid, but in reality, them all standing in front of you, they were no scarier than a group of 3-year-old children.

“What...? Just figured I'd have a little fun, turns out your ghoulies are a lot less scary than people think. Oh, y/n by the way and you are ...”

“Malachai... a lot scarier than people think, nice to meet you doll, boys let her go, and leave the room, I’ll deal with her”

“Deal with me, I like the sound of that” You were let go, dropped to the ground, as Malachai ushered the men out of the room. You got up finding a chair and putting your feet up and onto his desk that resided in the back of the room.

“Off”

“What? The big bad ghoulie is a germaphobe”

“Nah I just like shiny things, and you doll are currently on my radar” He swiped your feet off the desk before plotting on top.

“So what are you gonna do to me dear king?”

“Talk”

“Talk…”

“You are an enigma Y/N, I want to get to know you”

“No one ever does… what do you want from me?”

“Like I said you intrigue me, I just want to get to know who you are. We are… similar”

“I’m not sure we are…”

“Stay here…”

“Alright” Malachai came back with a photobook, a photo book that once we started flipping through you realized it was him, a boy living on the northside. A boy in a big house on cherry street, with a mother and father, and sister. Grandparents, Christmas parties and… then it was taken from you.

“You’re from the northside?

“Like I said we are similar”

“How did you know I am from the northside”

“Lucky guess I’d say”

“And you… lived there?” “There are a lot of things people don’t know about me, like I said we are similar Y/N”

“I wanna know how”

“Guess you’ll have to stay to find out”

“Apparently so”

[dotdotdottie]

Cats and Dots || Dot & Luce

LOCATION: Ink Inc.

TIME:  Before Bea’s Death

@divineluce

Clicking on her “Bad Ass Bitches” playlist on Spotify, Luce set to work on fixing the absolute shitshow that was Dot’s tattoo. Not only was the placement bad, it looked like a drunk toddler had decided to go to town with a machine. Which is why she was more than happy to be working on it. Nothing was more interesting than fixing a bad tattoo and turning it into something worth showing off. “How the fuck did you wind up with this hot mess? And, you can’t fucking smack me for saying that because I’ll make it worse.” She grinned as she dipped the needles into ink and set to work, bobbing her head along to the beat of the pounding bassline. “Like, love is love, but christ.” She gestured to the god awful rainbow plastered on her hip. “The lines on this are hot garbage.”

The rainbow tattoo had been something Dot got in a frat house in her junior year of college. Her friend had ordered a tattoo gun off the internet and the ink had been sourced from somewhere she had no desire to examine. She didn’t regret the tattoo, it was a funny fucking story and she liked being a dumbass with a rainbow tattoo... But if she was going to make sure everyone going down on her knew she was pretty fucking gay, she wanted it to a nice rainbow. “I got it done by a coked-out frat named Braydon.” She had almost considered eating him afterward, but her colony would have been pissed. She wished she had done it. “I probably could have done it better myself, but it was kinda fun watching him struggle. Hope you know how to make it look less like an idiot did it. I don’t need people to focus on the rainbow when my snatch is out.”

Stories like this weren’t super surprising, especially not when it came to shit tattoos. Luce nodded as she filled in the stencil, a black cat whose body covered the majority of the rainbow. What bits it didn’t, she was planning on incorporating into a rainbow collar around its neck. And besides, even without the collar, it was still gonna be pretty gay. “You know, that doesn’t fucking surprise me in the slightest. Braydon,” She wiped away the excess ink, “Had awful goddamn hands. And, trust me. This is gonna be dope.” Luce grinned, “Definitely a pussy out kind of look.” She laughed. Given the fact she usually tattooed straight, toxic masculinity dudes all the time, it was a goddamn delight to be tattooing someone who wasn’t. And, Dot was cool enough. She was dating Blanche, which honestly sounded like a match made in chaotic heaven.

Listen, Dot didn’t love cats, but she would get one tattooed on her for a pussy joke. Most of her tattoos were jokes anyway. She knew plenty of people thought tattoos had to have meaning but she thought they just had to have a fun story and be cool to look at. “Oh trust me, I know Braydon’s hands were terrible. He’s one of those boys who think the clit is a suggestion instead of required.” She had slept with him a few days later simply because she had been bored out of her mind. “Can’t wait for the summer when I can show it off when I’m at the beach,” She cackled imagining the horrified faces of suburban mothers as they covered their kiddie’s eyes. She liked Luce and if she wasn’t with Blanche, she would have considered trying to smash, but for once Dot didn’t have the desire to cheat. “You got anything fucking weird tattooed on you?”

Letting out a low whistle, Luce shook her head. “Sounds about right. Boys are the fucking worst.” She said, remembering her ill-fated attempts at dating boys in high school. For the most part, they’d been boring and dumb and not terrible to hang out with. But, Jared, he was a fucking time. “Sounds like the dude I slept with back in the day. But, I gotta say, hats off to Jared. He did in fact, turn me gay.” She joked. That had been a hilarious thing for him to realize, when they ran into each other at a house party the year after they graduated. Specifically, when he found her fucking a girl on the side of his house. “Oh, it’ll be a look. And a damn good one at that.” She said as she finished up the tail of the cat. At Dot’s question, Luce laughed and nodded. “Of course I do. This is a good one,” She said and backed up to show Dot one of the tattoos on her ankle. At first glance, it was a normal anchor tattoo with a scroll script around it, the cliche every college girl got. But, the scroll read ‘Fuck your Anchor.’ “A tribute to all the stupid anchor tattoos I have to do.”

“Men are good for two things, paying us and looking pretty,” Dot said with a grin. There was a third, very important thing they were also good for, but she doubted that Luce shared her passion for sinking her fingers in the chests of frat boys and eating their hearts. “Speaking for the community, I thank Jared for his contribution. We’re glad to have such a hot gay with us.” Was she flirting? Yeah, but Dot didn’t think it was terrible to do so. It was a joke after all. She craned her neck a bit to see the progress and grinned, honestly, it looked fucking sick already. She couldn’t wait to show Blanche… And literally anyone else who was willing to look at it. She let out a cackle as she took in Luce’s tattoo. “Wow, what an icon. I hope you make sure everyone sees it when they ask for an anchor tattoo. You get a lot of those stupid mom heart ones?”

“You can say that again.” Luce laughed, thinking back to the random venmo that she’d gotten from Adam. As much of a big dumb frat boy he seemed, the dude was half-way decent. When he wasn’t talking about his crotch goblins or giving her stupid nicknames. That said, Dickcleaver Vural had a nice ring to it. “You’ve got that right. I am, in fact, a gift to the ladies and they-dies of White Crest.” Luce chuckled to herself as she filled in the body of the cat. Was she aware of the tone behind Dot’s words? Yeah, which is why she dug in just a little deeper with her needle. Not enough to blow out the ink, but just enough to remind Dot that she was, in fact, tattooing her. Besides, Luce was a lot of things, but she wasn’t the other woman type. “You know it. Oh, I’d be fucked if I did. Ulf would have my head on a spike if I went flashing that around.” She remarked as she looked at her handiwork. “Nah, most dudes have figured out those are out of style.”

Adam’s venmo had sent Dot into a cackling session that lasted for several minutes. She hadn’t expected anyone to actually send her money, but when she got the notification on her phone, Adam had gained a few brownie points. She gave Luce a mock salute,“Thank you for your service. You should be given a medal of honor.” Her eyes narrowed as the needle dug in deeper, sending a glare Luce’s way. She was pretty sure the tattoo artist was too practiced at this point to change pressure like that. Guess flirting, even jokingly, wasn’t allowed with Luce. “If Ulf doesn’t see it happen, what’s the harm? Some people wouldn’t even read it, I bet.” Even if they did read it, Dot was pretty sure some people would just get it anyway. She laughed,“That’s tragic. I love when I see them, it’s just so funny. Teasing guys about it is so fun.”

“Every lesbian who ever slept with a man should, honestly. Gold star lesbians, my ass. Give me a gold star for having to suffer through forty seconds of super sexy thrusting.” Luce grumbled as she wiped away the last of the excess black ink. Popping over the rainbow array of ink, she dipped her needles in to color after color, filling in the rainbow pattern on the cat’s collar. “The harm is when all the piss babies storm out or write bad Yelp reviews. I’m in customer service,” She pasted a fake smile on her face before rolling her eyes, “I gotta service the customer.” Arching an eyebrow at Dot’s words, Luce couldn’t resist the urge to snicker. “Well, I can tell you this, you can and should make fun of anyone who’s got a terrible tribal. God, 90’s and 2000’s tattooing was the worst.”

“Wow, he lasted a full forty seconds? You had a marathon runner. Most boys out there are one thrust wonders.” Dot loved moments like this where she just got to make fun of men as brutally as she wanted. So many people got uncomfortable when she talked about boys and her sexual experiences with them. “I’ll write you a five star Yelp after this. I’ll even include that I reccomend the lesbian artist.” It wouldn’t be the first time she wrote a long review just to praise a friend. She was great at acting like a Karen and if she used her real name, everyone thought she was seventy anyway. “I should make them tip me extra for making me witness their bad tattoos. At least my bad tattoos are covered up or I’m getting them fixed.”

“I was truly #blessed.” Luce said in a mocking voice, as she shut off her machine. “What got me was the fact he had the balls to ask, ‘was it good for you’? That was when I straight up told him I was pretty sure I preferred girls. Whoops.” She said as she wiped off the last of the ink and gestured for Dot to take a look at the tattoo in the mirror she had on the wall. “You better mention me, otherwise people will come in thinking it was Rory who did this sick pussy tat. God knows how the girls would react to that.” She snorted, amused at the other artist’s struggles with the fairer sex. “Honestly, they really should. And hey, you’re getting there.” She said as she tossed her gloves in the trash and began to clean up her station. “When are we gonna fix that jank ass dolphin tattoo of yours, huh?”

“‘Was it good for you?’ Well, bud, if I’m getting up to leave then I’m pretty sure it wasn’t good for me. Boys are fucking stupid,” Dot laughed. This is part of the reason she ate human boys, they were just so annoying. She stood, looking into the mirror with an almost feral grin. “This is fucking awesome.” Turning back to Luce she let out another half laugh,“Yeah I’ll make sure I tell them it was you. Try not to hit on all the hot ones I send your way.” Dot took out her phone to take a photo to send Blanche and a few of her old college buddies. Snorting, she shook her head,“The dolphin is staying as messed up as it is. It’s a Dot classic at this point.”

“Right? You’d think me grabbing my shorts and booking it out the door would have been a dead give away.” Luce said with a laugh as she grabbed the aftercare instructions pamphlet and stuffed it into a baggy with a little Ink Inc. sticker, some candy, and a few packets of Aquaphor. “I’m glad you like it.” She said as she held out the grab bag. “And, no promises on that.” Luce winked and shook her head as they walked out to the register. Setting the station up for her, Luce shook her head with a disappointed snap of her fingers. “Damn, and here I thought I might have a chance at getting you to rethink that. But, hey. You win some, you lose some.” As she leaned against the front desk, Luce glanced up at the clock. Dot was a dope lady, if chaotic. And, coming from her? That meant she was pretty much chaos incarnate. But, she was good company for a drink. “You wanna grab a drink? Celebrate your new art?”

[purplesurveys]

979

survey by xalikattx

FOOD

What is your favorite salad dressing? I’m not really familiar with most of them as I only consume one type of salad and the recipe for that usually calls for mayo and some kind of spicy sauce. I guess that’s my favorite dressing by default.

Favorite sit-down restaurant? Yabu for days. I personally don’t think that will change for me. Mama Lou’s is also nice but its crowd can be so boujee it kills the dine-in experience for me.

Favorite pizza topping? I’m easy to please; I just like my pizzas cheesy.

What food could you eat for two weeks straight and not get sick of it? Fried chicken sandwiches.

What do you put on your toast? Butter is fine with me. I don’t really eat toast.

What food do you eat the most? I have rice in every meal.

Do you like food? Yes.

Do you LOVE food? Yesssssssssir. I have my preferences and things that I don’t like but I’m not picky for the most part, and I love being adventurous with the foods I try.

Do you even eat at all? ...What kind of question is this

What do you put on your ice cream? I never customize my ice cream. I usually consume ice cream however way it’s already served. 

Do you like steak? For sure.

Or are you a vegetarian? No.

How about a vegan? No.

What food do you hate the most? I’ve never learned how to appreciate kakanin, which is a group of a variety of sweet rice cakes that we have in Philippine cuisine. This has definitely caused my Filipino card to be revoked in the past lol, but ugh the texture is just so slimy and I hate how, even though we have so many types of kakanin, they all just taste and feel like sticky, chewed-up rice doused in sugar and coconut flakes. Korean rice cakes taste so much better.

TECHNOLOGY

How many TVs are in your house? We have four. Two downstairs, two upstairs.

Do they all work? I think the one in my brother’s room has stopped working but we just never get around to throwing it out because of the possibility of it getting fixed someday.

Do you have Comcast digital cable? I don’t know what that is. Probably a US thing? In that case we don’t. We used to have cable TV but my dad ceased our subscription a few months ago because no one in the family has been watching the TV for cable anymore and he got sick of paying for something that we don’t even avail of; we all stream our shows and movies on Netflix now.

AT&T Uverse? Definitely no AT&T on this side of the world, so no.

Dish Network? No.

Something else? Obviously.

Nothing? Again, it was a local cable provider but we’ve since cut off our subscription.

What's your favorite show? Of all time, Breaking Bad. Currently, it’s The Crown but I’ve been such a bad viewer at the moment; I stopped watching at some point a few months ago and haven’t gone back to Netflix since, welp.

What's the worst show? I don’t objectively know what’s the worst one out there but when it comes to my personal preferences, I’ve just never seen the appeal of shows targeted to teenagers or a younger demographic in general, like Teen Wolf, 13 Reasons Why, Riverdale, the TV adaptation of Scream, etc. Of course, this is just my own taste and I certainly don’t judge people who enjoy these shows. 

What color cell phone do you have? The official name is Space Gray but that’s too fancy so let’s just call it black.

What kind? iPhone 8.

What does the first text message in your inbox say and who sent it? So I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my text threads and the last person on the list is Ate Frances, and she was just telling me to check my Messenger because she had sent me a question regarding an event our org was holding at the time.

What was the last text you sent and who did you send it to? Gabie. I simply said “hi.”

Who was the last person to call you? My mom.

Who was the last person you called? Gab.

CURRENTLY

Are you missing someone? Yeah but let’s not get into it.

What are you listening to? I can hear rain pouring from outside my window.

Watching? It’s mostly background noise because I’m focusing on this survey, but I have on a YouTube video playing.

Worrying about? Work. I was tasked to think of PR executions for a client over the weekend and I just really really dislike it when I’m assigned to something that forces me to brainstorm, so ugh. Wish me luck because my brain juices have been feeling weak all weekend.

Where are you? I’m in my bedroom, my favorite place to be these days.

What's it like there? Lonely, but it’s quiet and comfortable. I used to avoid my bedroom all the time everyday because it makes me depressed, but now I am depressed and prefer to stay here all the time too.

How are you feeling? A little sad but I think tonight’s one of the nights I can fake it a little more easily, which is decent enough for me.

Is anyone with you? Who? Just Kimi.

Are you hungry? I haven’t had an appetite in a while. No.

What do you want to eat? I’m not craving anything.

Thirsty? I’m good, thank you.

What do you want to drink? I might end up drinking some of the plum soju that’s been in the fridge for months tonight, even though I told myself I wasn’t interested in touching it lol.

What time is it? 6:58 PM.

LASTS

Thing you ate? A tuna empanada.

Thing you drank? Pretty sure it was just water.

Thing you said? “Go, pee” It was to Kimi as I set him down on the balcony.

Movie you watched? I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Ugh, I really should watch a more light-hearted movie soon because this answer is such a depressing one and I’m tired of mentioning it.

Store you went to? What did you buy? Grocery store; dog food.

Person you talked to? My sister.

Person you hugged? I think it was Gabie.

Kissed? Also her.

Yelled at? I haven’t raised my voice in a while. I don’t remember anymore.

Book you read? Midnight Sun.

Thing you touched? Other than the keyboard, I pushed up my eyeglasses.

Person you became friends with on Facebook/Myspace/whatever other site? [continued the next day] A co-intern, Justine, added me on Facebook. I honestly don’t see the point of being Facebook friends because we’re bound to part ways and never encounter each other again after our internship...but I guess it’s nice to have friendly co-workers.

RANDOM

Are a righty or a lefty? Righty.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Just a decaying tooth, but otherwise no organs or anything larger.

What is the last heavy object you lifted? Does Cooper count? Little man has been getting so big over the last few weeks. He’s finally getting the growth spurt that we’ve been waiting for :’D But I don’t really do heavy lifting around the house, so.

Have any scars? Sure.

How did you get them? Any interesting stories? Most of them are scars from childhood falls, because I was the clumsiest kid in the neighborhood and tripped and scraped my legs at least once every time I played outside. There’s a scar on my left eyebrow from an idiot cousin who had been out to make me blind, and then there’s the self-harm scars as well.

if it were possible, would you want to know the day you're going to die? Yes. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to know.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I’m happy with mine. I’m not five anymore.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If it was like sriracha then yeah. Not willing to do anything overly hot, though.

How about 10 bottles of ketchup? I’d be more enticed if you offered mayonnaise, but even then I think such a feat deserves a higher prize than $1000.

10 bottles of maple syrup? Thinking of how thick that is already hurts my throat. Pass.

A bottle of vinegar? HELL no.

10 jars of peanutbutter? HELL yes but again, I’m gonna be asking for more money lol

How many pairs of flip flops do you own? A couple. They’re not my favorite things to wear so I don’t feel the need to collect a lot of them.

Favorite month? April because birthday month; December because even though that’s when my depression strikes the hardest, everyone else is caught up in the holidays and that allows me to guiltlessly cut off contact with people for a few weeks.

Do you always answer your phone? If you mean calls, then no. I do not pick up if it’s an unknown number, but after rejecting I immediately text them asking who they are and what they’re calling for. I just feel like it’s proper etiquette to text before you call, especially if you’re reaching out to me for the first time.

It's four AM and you get a text message, who is it? Gabie for sure. She’s on the graveyard shift, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.

If you could change your eye color what would it be? I’m okay with mine, but if I got reincarnated as a foreigner I’d love to have hazel eyes. They look very pretty.

Do you own a digital camera? Not anymore. My phone camera can take good enough photos.

Do you take lots of pictures of yourself? Hell no.

Do you take them in front of the mirror in the bathroom? Nope.

Have you ever had a pet fish? I had several goldfish as a kid, yes.

Pet hamster? Nope. That’s mostly a Western thing too I think; I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever had a hamster.

Bird? We had lovebirds before; they were so low-maintenance and made for such sweet pets.

Rabbit? Yep. Tobi was a bit of a handful, but I loved him all the same.

Iguana? No.

Favorite Christmas movie? Love Actually and It’s A Wonderful Life.

Favorite Christmas song? Probably It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas. It’s so soothing and yet makes me feel festive and excited for Christmas.

Can you do push ups? I can, doesn’t mean I’m good at holding myself up ha.

Can you do a chin up? I can but I hate those.

Does the future make you nervous or excited? Both.

Ever been in a car accident? Just minor ones.

Do you have an accent? I think everyone does. I’ve honestly never understood this question lol, if I go to a different country or continent, people are always going to have an accent in my ears. Even in my own country, I can think of a number of accents I’ve heard people speak in.

What song always makes you cry? 26 by Paramore.

Have any plans for tonight? Rest my tired head.

What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Talking to Gabie.

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Ugh, Monday.

[prorevenge]

Contractor screws me out of $1500. Good luck finding someone else to do the work.

I got hosed by a residential construction contractor years ago. We'll call him Mark. I'd done three projects for Mark prior to this one and had no issues. For this project, Mark wanted plans for a remodel and add on based off some photos and hand sketches. It was about $1500 in work which was a lot at the time. I delivered the first draft. Mark was quite happy with the result and would be consulting with the client over revisions or acceptance. He said he would get back to me as soon as he had some news about the project. Typically I would just run a tab on something like this as there is no limit on revisions and updates until the project is finalized. Everyone understood that the meter is running when I'm working. In nearly a decade of this line of work I'd never had any problem with anyone paying.

So after delivering the first draft to Mark I waited on the revisions. It was a pretty decent sized project for me at that time and I was looking forward to it. I waited. And waited. And waited. 3 weeks went by. He wasn't returning my calls so I sent him a bill.

Two days later Mark called and said he didn't get the job so wouldn't be paying. Whoa, we didn't have an agreement of me getting paid if he gets paid. I get paid for my time regardless and never work on a bid arrangement. He still refused so I told him to take a hike. Also let some other freelance CAD guys know about him. We were competitors but there was so much work we would refer projects to each other if we were overloaded.

I resigned myself to losing that money. It wasn't actual money lost as all I have invested is my time. But that's time I could have spent working on another project that actually paid. My time is where I make my money. I didn't have materials I would mark up or subs I managed. I was a one guy operation. So, yeah, it sucked.

6 months later Mark calls, all buddy-buddy like with me. He has a big project with a tight deadline and knows I'm the man for it. He's laying it on thick with me, too. Like I'm a great friend he hadn't talked to in a while, telling me I'm the best at my job, and so on. I knew exactly where this was headed. So I played nice with him and I'm sure Mark thought it was all water under the bridge. The next day I sent Mark a bid that was high (about 50% more than my typical rate), tacked $1500 on to it and told him I wanted it all up front.

Mark called 10 minutes later and wanted to know why the price was so high and payment required up front. Those were not the terms of our previous projects. So I explained it to him as he seemed to be suffering from selective amnesia.

Mark starts begging me to do the project. This isn't a bid, he claims, he actually has this project in hand. Mark also is apparently having trouble finding someone to take on this project. Apparently he'd managed to stiff all the good operators in the area so he worked his way back to me. I told him I'd be more than happy to take on any project he had once the $1500 was paid and all further projects would be paid up front. I never heard from him again. He didn't get that project, either, even though he claimed it was locked up.

Mark's wife actually owned their business. It had an effeminate name and they used this "women owned construction business" as a selling point in ads and at trade shows. I'd guess 2/3 of their clients were landed just on that piece of deception. The wife was mainly just the face of the company and a marketing point. She wasn't involved in the business beyond that. So when Mark started complaining about difficulty getting subs to work with she started calling around. I heard through the grapevine that she was told off several times. Anyone who has worked with a construction subcontractor knows they can be rather blunt, to say the least. They weren't just screwing the CAD guys. Subs in every category had been stiffed.

A year later Mark and his wife were sued by multiple subs and customers. Mark really screwed up a few houses, putting in the wrong flooring, getting paint schemes wrong, and so on. They lost these court cases and tried to get out of it by filing bankruptcy. They got a few dismissed but not all of them. Last I heard they got divorced and he was stuck with a lot of the debt because she was able to prove she wasn't involved in some of the decisions. But she had some debt too. I like to think I got the ball rolling when I let some other subs know about their shady practices.

(source) story by (/u/JaquesStrape)

[shyvioletcat]

Shot in the Night - Part 3

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts almost finished for like a week and a half now. I could never find the right time or mindset to just get those last few sentences out. But anyway it’s here! If I accidentally missed tagging you or you want to be tagged just let me know.

Part 1

Part 2

~~~~~

There was a beat of silence at the table. Elide had no idea what was going on but from what she garnered from everyone’s faces was that they were surprised Lorcan had agreed to take her home. Aelin was just looking at him, scepticism written all over her face.

“I’m not going to lie, I was expecting a fight there,” Fenrys said with a laugh. “Hoping for some fisticuffs in the parking lot actually.”

That earned him a few laughs.

Dorian muttered under his breath, “You’re a tool.” Fenrys just saluted him with the drink in his hand.

By then Aelin recovered from her initial shock. “Alright then, shall we get to it.”

Lorcan didn’t bother to farewell the others at the table, not even a nod. He just got up and headed out of the bar. No one seemed phased by it, Aedion called out a sarcastic goodbye though. Aelin just gave Rowan a knowing look and beckoned Elide to follow.

“I’m so sorry,” Aelin said as they headed out of the bar as well, “that it’s Lorcan that has to take you. We don’t see Nesryn and Sartaq much. They live on the Southern Continent so when they visit it’s a bit of a thing. Lorcan’s a sullen prick, but he’s decent enough. I trust him. But you can stay here, if you’d like. If you’re not comfortable.”

Elide just nodded while she took the time to gather her thoughts. There were still so much running through her head that she could barely think straight. “I still think it’s best that I go back tonight. If I can pack myself up while Vernon is asleep it will be less of a fight.”

Because Elide did need to go back. There were things that she couldn’t leave behind. Sentimental things, like her few childhood possessions, photos of her parents. Then there were things she needed. Her birth certificate, the meagre  savings she had been squirrelling away for years. If she stayed here and turned up tomorrow Vernon would fight, and fight hard.

“Son of a…” Aelin lurched forward and pressed the elevator button aggressively. Lorcan had gone into the elevator and not waited for them. Aelin let out a heavy sigh, “Once again, I apologise.”

It didn’t take long for the elevator to arrive and Aelin stepped in and Elide followed.

“Don’t even know where he parked,” Aelin muttered as she jabbed the button imprinted as P1. “Lorcan is Rowan’s friend. As you may have noticed we tend to rub each other the wrong way. You could probably get away with not talking to him the whole way if you wanted.”

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Aelin once again led the way out into a neat undercover parking garage. She glanced around searching for Lorcan no doubt.

“Lorcan!” She called. Her answer was a door shutting around the corner to their left. Aelin headed towards the sound. “Thanks for waiting.” Her words were laced with sarcasm was a definite bite to them.

Lorcan was hidden by his open boot, which after a few moments he shut as well. “I needed to clean up a bit. It’s not like this place is huge.”

This was the first time Elide had got a good look at Lorcan. The bar had been dimly lit and he had preceded them to the carpark so Elide hadn’t really been able to really see him. Now that she did she tried not to let her eyes go wide.

He was enormous. Elide guessed that he was over 6 foot and he was built like a super hero. Most specifically Thor. His face was handsome, but somewhat savage, as if he rarely smiled and his thoughts always caused him look like something was pissing him off. The way he was glaring at Aelin, Elide assumed she was often a cause. Then with his dark hair and dark eyes, Lorcan was certainly an imposing figure.

Lorcan came around the car and lent on the drivers door and crossed his arm expectantly.

“Well, this is where I leave you.” Aelin said as she turned to Elide. “You’ve got my number. You call me if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Elide nodded and gave a small smile. What a whirlwind he night had been. “See you tomorrow.”

Aelin gave Elide a brilliant smile then turned to Lorcan and pointed a damning finger at Lorcan. “You keep her safe or I’ll kill you.”

The conviction in Aelin’s voice made Elide believe that she certainly would. Lorcan however just gave her a heavy eye roll before sliding into the car without another word. Elide gave Aelin an awkward wave and moved towards the car. It was black and sleek, but beyond that all Elide could say about it was that it was nice. Cars were not something Elide bothered to know anything about. Aelin gave Elide one last smile before turning and walking away as Elide ducked into the car.

Elide noted as she sunk into the dark leather seats that the inside of Lorcan’s car was luxurious. Everything was sleek and clean and it was certainly smelled like Elide imagined a new car would smell like. It had a display in the dash that was showing a map, but from the images running along the bottom it did a lot more than that. It certainly was nothing like the 20 year old heap of junk she drove.

“Can you put in your address?”

The sound of Lorcan’s voice made Elide jump. “Sure.”

It took Elide a few minutes to put her address into the system, mainly because she had no idea what she was doing. Lorcan didn’t say or do anything. He just waited. When she was finished and lent back Lorcan started the car and they were off. Elide just observed what was outside as they left the car park and pulled out onto the streets of Perranth. The city lights were mesmerising as they passed in a blur. Elide couldn’t decide what to focus on, the restaurants, bars, shops, the people milling about. This was part of a life Elide never had. All she knew was that little motel. It was hard to believe that it was all about to change. Elide was content to sit in silence and just take it all in.

But the silence was broken by a loud gurgle from Elide’s stomach. She glanced at he time on the dash.

10:32

Elide hadn’t eaten since lunch. Her stomach rumbled again, so audible in the quiet car, and Elide felt her cheeks heat.

“Hungry?” Lorcan said, not looking away from the road.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“Do you want to get something?”

Elide hesitated. She didn’t know what to get let alone any cash to pay for it. “No. It’s okay.”

“If you want to get something we can stop,” Lorcan offered.

Elide sighed. “I don’t have any money.”

“If you’re hungry, which obviously you are, I can get you some food.”

Elide turned over the words in her head, the implied meaning of his words. She was about to refuse him again when Lorcan said, “I feel like a burger.”

He pulled off the main road into the carpark of what looked like a old school diner. Instead of parking Lorcan pulled around to the drive through and rolled down his window to the ordering intercom.

“Betty’s Burgers what can I get you?” A muffled voice asked.

“Yeah, can I get a Betty’s Classic, side of fries and two caramel concrete shakes?”

The voice on the other side of the intercom repeated the the order back and Lorcan confirmed with a quick thanks before he drove around to the next window. Elide just sat there playing with her fingers. Lorcan had ordered two shakes, so she would get one of those at least? She had planned to refuse the food anyway but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to bear the smell of the food in the car. Oh well, not much she could do.

Lorcan paid and then it was a few minutes before the food arrived in a bag, when Lorcan dropped in her lap a little ungraciously, then slipped the shakes into the cup holders in the middle console.

“I hope you like beef,” was all Lorcan said as drove out onto the main road again.

“What?” Elide said, a little shocked.

“Burger and fries are for you, I actually only wanted a shake.”

Elide just looked over at Lorcan as he sipped at his shake, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Seriously?”

Lorcan didn’t say anything. Just kept driving.

Elide opened the bag and inhaled the scent of the burger and fries. It smelled delicious. Elide didn’t wait any longer before she dug in.

By the time Elide had finished her burger and half her shake they were reaching the edges of the CBD. The burger was good, and the shake was great.

“Thanks,” Elide said as she snacked on her remaining chips.

“No problem,” Lorcan replied.

There were a few beats of silence, then Elide decided to throw caution to the wind.

“So Lorcan, what do you do?” Elide asked.

“I work in security. Hotel security.” He said simply.

“So that’s how you know Aelin?”

Lorcan let out a short scoff. “No. I worked with Rowan. Then he met Aelin.”

Lorcan didn’t offer up anymore details, letting Elide to connect the dots herself. “How long have you been doing that job?”

“Since I was 17.”

Lorcan was giving clipped closed answers. Maybe Elide should have followed Aelin’s advice and kept quiet. It’s not like Elide had extended conversations that often, she wasn’t good at small talk.

“You have a limp,” Lorcan said breaking the silence.

Elide felt herself tense. “I do.” He must have seen it when she walked into the bar. Most people didn’t take notice of it. People never really took notice of her.

“How’d you get it?” He asked simply.

Elide bristled a little. “That’s an awfully personal question.”

“Like asking me about my work isn’t?”

“Not really. I’d argue work is practically in the public sphere of life, because it’s visible to the general public most cases,” Elide countered.

“You limp in public, doesn’t that make it visible to the general public?” Lorcan said back.

“The limp yes, how I got it no. I confirmed I have one, as part of the general public that’s all your entitled to.”

Lorcan just shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Elide didn’t know why but she decided to tell Lorcan anyway. Maybe it was because, for once in a very, very long time someone talking to her without trying to get something in return. A conversation that didn’t involve trying to get discounts, free stuff or Elide to stop by their room later that night.

“When I was 11 I fell down the stairs at the motel. I was carrying something and I couldn’t see the stairs and misjudged a step. I tumbled all the way to the bottom. My uncle took me to the hospital and they put a cast on and all that. When I got my cast off the doctor said I needed to go easy on it for a while and that I should attend physiotherapy because the damage had been pretty bad. Neither of those things happened, so my ankle never healed properly.”

“You were 11 and your uncle mistreated you like that?” From Lorcan’s side profile Elide could see he was visibly shocked.

“He was wasted most of that year. He was still mourning the loss of the hotel and all that money. I could walk so why should he be concerned?” Elide replied with a shrug.

“Because you were a child under his care.” Lorcan glanced at Elide, that shock had turned to disgust.

“I don’t think he a paternal bone in his body,” Elide said as she sucked at the dregs of her shake.

“I’d be willing to break a few bones if you’d like, see if we can maybe find that paternal bone somewhere. Crack it open.”

Elide coughed and spluttered, Lorcan’s words had surprised her and she’d inhaled the shake down the wrong pipe. They vehemence in the words Lorcan had spoken had Elide fully believing that he would hurt Vernon because of what he’d done to her. He didn’t even know her.

“Thanks but no thanks. He’s too clever for his own good and he’d find some way to make me pay for it,” Elide said with a slight wheeze to her voice.

“But you’re leaving aren’t you?” Lorcan gave her a side eyed glance. “I don’t imagine Noble Aelin would send you back if she didn’t plan on getting you out again.”

“She’s coming tomorrow. With the car,” she said clearing the last of the shake from her throat.

“I was wondering about that.” Lorcan mused quietly.

Elide looked out the window as they passed the casino on the very edges of the city. It was what gave the motel most of their business, regardless of that Elide hated it. Hated what it represented in her life. It’s what had kept her in her stagnant existence. She didn’t care if it had basically kept her alive. Once they passed the casino the car went dark, it’s lights no longer lighting up the car.

“You look like you want to burn that place down,” Lorcan’s deep voice sounded in the darkness.

“That place gives us most of our business,” Elide explained. “I guess I should be grateful to it. But I still hate it.”

Lorcan hummed what Elide assumed to be agreement.

Elide left the conversation there, she could feel anxiety building in her stomach. They were getting close now. She was thinking about whether or not her Uncle was awake, what would he do and say when she turned up without the car and drinks, why hadn’t he answered all those times she called, hopefully she could pack herself up without him noticing.

Lorcan turned into motel parking lot and pulled up close to the reception area. Elide looked up to the apartment above, all the light were off and Elide let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” Elide said as she went to open the door.

“Wait,” Lorcan said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, um...” Elide let her hand drop into her lap. “Manon knows where it is. She can show you.”

“I was thinking,” Lorcan said, “that I could stay here if you have a room available. It’s late and I could go get your car from here. I’ll organise it with the others if you put the directions in my phone.”

Lorcan held out his phone for Elide to take, Elide just looked at it for a moment.

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.” She agreed.

“You say the word and I’ll go. I’m just thinking logically here.” Lorcan said, sensing her hesitation.

“No, no. You’re right.” Elide took the phone and just jotted down the directions to where her car was. Hopefully Lorcan could find it on those back roads, if not Manon would know. Once she handed the phone back Elide got out of the car and headed for the reception. By the time she had keyed in the alarm code and unlocked the door Lorcan had joined her, what looked like clothes bundled under his arm. They didn’t say anything as went into the building, Elide heading for the desk behind a high counter. She rifled through the drawer that contained the keys to the motel rooms and pulled out the one she was looking for.

“Here,” she said holding out the key to Lorcan. A big number 17 hanging from the key chain. “This room has the newest bed. It’s definitely the most comfortable.”

“I can pay,” Lorcan said reaching into his pocket.

“I’d much rather you didn’t,” Elide said. “It will just go to Vernon at this point.”

Lorcan took the key. Elide gave him a small smile, subconsciously slipping into what she described as hostess mode. She led Lorcan back outside and reset the alarm once he closed the door behind him.

“Head over to that stairwell over there and it will be the third door to the left. Have a good stay.” Elide’s cheeks heated as she finished her little speech. “Ah, sorry. That was habit. Goodnight then”

Elide didn’t say anything else before she turned away and headed up the stairs to the apartment. She unlocked the door as quietly as she could, locking it again behind her. The TV was going in the sitting room and Elide held her breath as she made her way to the room’s opening.

Elide just rolled her eyes at the sight in front of her. Her uncle was sprawled on the couch, mouth open and snoring lightly, cans and bottles scattered around him. Elide just turned her back on the pathetic sight. She had more important things to do.

~~~~~

Tags:  @darknessinthediamond @1800-fight-me @nalgenewhore @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @amylindle @theypanickedatthewrongdisco @maastrash @fucking-winchester-trash @literary-licorice @tangledraysofsunshine @galyxsy @k-llama-llama @highqueenofelfhame @nish247

[crystalized-dreams]

Will you ever upload more abyssrium or word villas or some other mobile games?

In general, mobile games are really tricky to record. I used to have a fairly decent program I used-- Side Sync, but it’s been discontinued and is now broken. I can still kind of use it (as I did with my recent Pocket Camp video and the STYLIT video), but it’s a huge pain and skews the video entirely as essentially the vertical game is being shown squished into a horizontal perspective. There is no fix. 

I haven’t found a program that works for my needs. The closest I can find either have a monthly fee (I don’t mind buying something once, but I don’t use things enough to justify a monthly fee), some kind of recording mark over the video and/or will record sound through the microphone. I actually generally play mobile games muted and live in a very loud house so that helps no one. Or they aren’t for screen sharing at all and are really just to get your emails/alerts which I don’t need.

And Samsung Flow, Side Sync’s replacement, is honestly terrible. I can’t get it to work. 

While I could consider an emulator, the issue there is not all games properly carry over progress and my computer is slowly having more issues and just can’t always run them. I do try to use an Emulator for games where I know I will play for a long time, but it can be pretty glitchy (Using Choices and Hogwarts Mystery as examples, my progress isn’t always properly saved and sometimes I have to redo things on my phone after). 

As for the games you specifically asked about, being completely honest, I don’t think I’d be uploading more of Abyssrium or Word Villas regardless as, to put it nicely, both have became a bit too greedy for me. 

Before I go into it, I want to say I never have an issue with putting money into a game I enjoy. I’ve spent a lot on Abyssrium and a fair amount on Word Villas. But I have very little patience with subscriptions for one and I just... haven’t enjoyed a lot of choices either game has made recently (of the two, despite playing Abyssrium longer, I think Word Villas has made me more upset about the direction they’ve gone). 

This will also get quite long, so....

My first worry with Abyssrium came with the pearls. I dislike second currencies and we already had some expensive things (they had a Mermaid for $100 for crying out loud, but they at least seemed to be slowing down with that). Next were some of the event features... like the 150 gift boxes for an event fish. That is A LOT of constantly logging in and I am very much a “let be just be done ASAP and be good” person (I’ll be talking about this more in an upcoming entry) so the added walls were another thing really making me kind of anxious about Abyssrium.

Then they added subscriptions. No ads (which with the amount of their stupid events that required you to watch ads now was HUGE to save time) and the adorable Puffin taunted me, as I had every other fish up to this point. I couldn’t justify $7 a week for that though so I only ever temporarily did the subscription whenever an event happened.

And thus our problem-- we started getting monthly events. Which included a $10-$20 exclusive new species (and sometimes even a second one for you to spend even more money on). And also new dailies which removed more accessible pearl getting, but also were another layer to these events as every single one would have a whole second set of objectives with one that required you to complete 3 Dailies in a row. 

I rarely did the dailies, partially due to my burnt out issues when it comes to monotonous tasks, but also because I find tapping incredibly painful. So I was killing my wrist every single event. And that adds up fast.

It was just too much to keep track of. And then they added in a gacha system too that cost event currency or materials and it just... it was too much. This was too much every month and like why I dropped Pocket Camp (and now only really check in for the special gifts), I just couldn’t take a chance to breathe. 

Adding in Abyssrium Pole just made it worse which continued some of the worst parts of the original while also making things even slower at times and it’s a shame as there’s some really neat things they did with it, but it was just annoying. 

This doesn’t even go into all the other little intricacies I had with some events (Like having to create more than one of each or remake ones I already had because of some objective), but it was just exhausting. 

----

As for Word Villas... Just... ugh, I think what really breaks my heart with this is I LOVE decorating games, but I HATE Match Three′s with a passion so this was so much more my speed and they just had to ruin it. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a replacement either because for some reason every single time someone makes a decoration-based game, they have Match Three firmly printed on their forehead. 

I’m going to bullet-print this one because none of it really requires the long description as Abyssrium did for the most part, but it’s just a lot of frustrations and the fact that they just didn’t seem to care about their fans up to this point.

Constant events. Some people hated these events as they just wanted more rooms, but I actually really enjoyed them! The issue mainly came as they were just, like Abyssrium’s issue, happening constantly. I would’ve been fine with a break of no updates, but it was getting a bit exhausting to constantly be doing event stuff... Especially as the events generally required 60 levels minimum to get everything (Some only required 40 but it was still a lot) and it was just tiring to power through so many due to the limited time.

Similarly, there was a glitch with the Chinese New Year/Lunar New Year event and not everyone even got the photo, yet they were never able to fix this. 

We also started getting Competitive Events which nobody really seemed to want? Myself included. The game was a solo game. This was entirely pointless and making some items only available to the person in first was super scummy, especially when some people were already out of levels and thus, couldn’t keep going for that #1 spot in the first place. 

The Blossom Problem - Blossoms are no longer even in the game, having been replaced by Blue tickets which you can only get randomly through certain things ooor by buying them with a premium currency that you can only get with real money... yet these are now used to get things the blossoms were-- Collectibles that can be used as decorations in various house areas. Some people had over 50,000 blossoms built up only for them to be dumped. They kept asking for more things to be used on. Blossoms were only gotten for hitting certain combo streaks and while not having the combo streak pressure is nice, it’s still a huge slap in the face to long-term players who saved up. 

The writing is kind of spotty. In all honesty, I glance over this a lot as I like the characters quite a bit, but anytime the main character talks with her best friend about dieting and not wanting to get fat when they’re super thin, I just cringe. The dialogue is unneeded. It’s a game for crying out loud. And honestly, proof reading is needed. 

They did recently let use customize the MC’s appearance to an extent, but we still can’t change her eye color or skin color and hairstyles are set to whatever color they are. But we can’t adjust her sleepwear appearance... 

The Premium Currency - There’s just... no ways to get this in-game (or if there are, I have not found them and it’s definitely not much) and yet they keep adding more things that require them. 

New Visual Novel feature? Every choice that is somewhat romantic or just not being awful requires it. And this is a shame as I’d genuinely love to read some. 

Furniture options you like? Might require it. (Heck, the only other option in the current “limited” boardwalk decorating does each time). 

Certain customization options? Require it. 

As a note, I’m not even necessarily against premium currencies as long as the prices are fair and it’s possible to earn in-game too, but otherwise when your game has a huge focus on customization and/or collecting, it’s essentially pay to win and that’s a problem. 

My biggest issue as we get more and more currencies though is the main one often ends up taking a backseat because of it. 

As I mentioned above with Abyssrium, I have no issue purchasing games, but I think having to repeatedly pay to remove ads is super dumb and getting ads between rounds is so annoying, but I don’t always play enough to justify paying every month to remove ads. I also just find it kind of distasteful. 

The upped star costs. I get that I’m pretty far in, but needing 3 minimum to 4 or 5 Stars at a time now to do things is honestly just kind of boring. I liked to do bursts of levels than story, but now I just have to do too many levels to do that and I can’t switch off enough to keep myself from getting burnt out. 

The stupid mission pass thing. Let. People. Play. At. Their. Own. Pace. And don’t prevent rewards just because people won’t pay for the premium version... there shouldn’t even be two versions. 

Too grindy. Too many levels needed for so many things (events, the stupid competitive stuff, etc.) and it’s just exhausting. 

The constant events also really did just end up burning me out in and off itself and then running out of my “no ads” time period due to how little I’m playing just gets me more discouraged. I used to be up to date, but I’ve been behind due to the larger costs and lack of time (and then the ad issue and ugh). I can’t even bother with most of their events lately as it just isn’t fun. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 9 - Come Sunday

Harry hadn’t told me much about the trip. In fact, pretty much every question I asked him about it was given a wave and ‘don’t worry about it.’ In a way that was nice--that I didn’t have to worry about things or stress about it, but it also left me with a feeling that I was inadvertently taking advantage of him.

Something about the fact that he never once asked me for any money, never let me know how much I should bring for food, activities, or whatever else he planned on doing during our time there, left me feeling rather helpless and just shitty.

I figured that on the plane there--when there were plenty of other people around--wouldn’t be a good time to bring it up. Harry’s manager, Jeff, and Ryan--who’d be our engineer--were the only two people I’d met somehow in passing before. Whether it was at the office or in the studio, I’d been introduced to them and even worked with Ryan once or twice.

But I didn’t know them well--and when the van pulled up to the marvelous and extraordinary white, mid-century modern house on a hill, I knew I’d be getting to know everyone a whole lot better over the next few weeks.  

The first thing I realized when we all showed up to the airport and climbed the stairs to the tiny plane was that I was the only woman. It’s not that I had expected there to be five or ten--I just didn’t expect to be the only one with a uterus. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the only one with hair past my shoulders--I had Harry to thank for that.

But here we were--the sun was shining and there were all sorts of exotic noises that I couldn’t quite place as we climbed out of the van and onto to the pavement of the driveway. Harry had shown me a few photos the night I was packing at my apartment--there were six bedrooms in this house, but he’d rented another down the hill to make sure we had enough room.

He hadn’t really explained much other than the fact that the studio we’d be recording in was down the road a ways towards the center of town. So, with my suitcase in the hands of the driver and my sunglasses back on my face to shield my eyes from the light, I stared up at the big house.

“Nice, huh?” He asked, his hands on his hips as the rest of the gang climbed out behind us.

“It’s beautiful,” I said--my eyes scanning over the balconies that seemed to protrude from the second floor bedrooms.

And that’s when my stomach sank. Where was I supposed to sleep? Sure--Harry and I had physically cemented whatever type of more than friends thing we had going on, but we certainly hadn’t had any sort of legitimate conversation about it. He hadn’t asked, I hadn’t told. I wondered if it would just go on like this for--for one reason or another--we stopped hanging out.

I followed behind Harry and Jeff as we made our way to the door--the big house blocked the view of the ocean, which had still been visible from the driveway.

“So Harry, me, other Jeff, Maggie, Alex, and Tyler are here,” Jeff said, looking down at his phone to confirm. Six people, six bedrooms. “Ryan and Teddy--you’re both down the hill at the other house with Matt when he gets in.”

Harry punched in a code to the keypad on the front door, opening the door to reveal a marble and wood foyer. I stared up at the high ceiling--magnificent and colorful art lined the walls. Harry, with classic Ray-Bans over his eyes and a Hawaiian shirt on, let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

Something in my stomach knotted itself into a ball.

I felt--out of place. I felt nervous and unsure of my presence as he took a few steps further in, a smile on his face as he turned to look at the group. “I think it’ll do.”

**

My room was at the opposite end of the hallway as Harry’s. It boasted a king-sized bed and tall windows that looked over the backyard--a hint of the ocean was visible from the corner. It was big--big enough that I could have probably fit a home gym and a jacuzzi inside, but both of those things were located downstairs.

I had my own bathroom, which I was thankful for. The last thing I needed through all of this was dealing with the way men exist in bathrooms. They leave things out on the counter and don’t seem to understand where the soap actually goes. I would have rather showered outside than have dealt with that. (The outdoor shower was downstairs, too.)

We took the afternoon to get settled in--the upstairs was quiet as people unpacked, figured out how on earth to flush the ridiculously fancy toilets (which were even less American than the ones in London), and I finally found myself sat on the couch in the living room when Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Y’okay?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he made his way over to join me. I clicked my phone shut--Alex sat on the couch opposite me, his feet up on the glass coffee table that hosted a book about sightseeing in Jamaica.

“Yeah, I’m great,” I nodded, offering a smile as he came to sit. It wasn’t exactly a lie. I mean, the truth was that I was fine. I was just overthinking and getting in my head and I suddenly felt like maybe I wasn’t even good enough to write on this album.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but I cut him off before he could challenge me. “I’m hungry--what’s the deal with food?”

The kitchen, as I’d discovered upon opening every single cabinet and drawer, was empty. Apparently food wasn’t included in what was sure to be the gigantic bill for this place.

“Oh right,” Harry said, plucking at his lower lip as his eyes scanned the kitchen. An empty fruit bowl stood on the counter--not even a banana was present. “Ferdinand said we’d have to get food.”

“Ferdinand?” Alex asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. He looked up from his phone and smiled.

Harry nodded, a smile crossing his face. “He’s the guy in charge of the rental thing,” he motioned around the room to try to explain. “He said there’s a grocery store a few miles down the road.”

Jeffrey appeared in the doorway, he came to sit beside Alex--putting his feet up on the coffee table as well. I guess when you paid as much money as Harry was paying, you could do things like that.

“Should we go?” I asked, looking between Harry and Jeff.

“No, we can have someone do that,” Harry said automatically, looking down at his cellphone in his hands.

“Harry,” I said, tucking my chin down in disappointment. “We can do our own grocery shopping. I can go--I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to,” Jeffrey said, shaking his head without even looking up.

“I want to,” I said quickly. “I’ll go and get all of the basics. Enough stuff so we can at least have breakfast.”

“There’s a chef that’s through the hotel--he’ll come and prepare meals if we want him to.”

I let out a laugh and leaned my head back against the couch. “Okay--fine, but we can also make food, too.” Maybe that was the difference between me and Harry. Maybe he was used to having people cook his eggs and maybe I was used to scrambling them myself.

“I didn’t bring you here to be my chef,” Harry smirked, his voice low enough as if we were the only two in the room.

“I’m aware,” I nodded. “But I think we should go to the grocery store and see the town.”

Harry seemed to think on this for a second--he rubbed at his eyes and then clapped his hands together. “Alright--let’s go, then.”

**

“Why d’we need that many?” He asked, his hands on the cart that he pushed in front of him. He watched as I set the three cartons of eggs inside, when I stood up, he was staring right at me.

While the others decided they’d rather take a nap or test out the pool, Harry seemed to begrudgingly stand with his hands on the cart.

“If we each eat two eggs that’s a dozen right there,” I shrugged. “At least. So this will last three days if we have eggs for breakfast every day.”

He didn’t respond--he pushed the cart forward and looked down at the list I’d scrawled down quickly before we left. We’d taken the car that apparently came with the house--Harry insisted on driving and we kept the windows down the whole way.

“What about these? Should we get some of these?”

“Mangoes?” I laughed, picking one up to examine it. “Do you like mangoes?”

“I think so,” he nodded, tossing the two he held into the cart.

“Okay--let’s try to stick to the list,” I prompted, walking a few steps forward to the bananas.

The store was small--it was probably half the size of the tiny grocer down the street from my flat, but it seemed to have a good enough variety. The chef, Harry said, would bring food as well. An island-sounding song played over the speakers, only two checkout lanes, one man behind the deli counter.

Harry, as we walked in, had shared that this was his first time grocery shopping for himself in about three years. I found that completely ridiculous, but he’d insisted that he’d tried once or twice in 2013 and he just couldn’t keep a low enough profile. I told him it was probably the hair and the sunglasses and beanie on his head in the middle of the day in a Sainsbury’s downtown.

“Let’s watch a movie tonight,” he said suddenly, examining a bunch of bananas as I headed for a loaf of bread. The store was decent, but the organization seemed all out of sorts.

“Let’s finish this first,” I laughed, scanning the shelves for a plain loaf of white or wheat.

“I mean it,” he said, coming over with the cart, bananas in tow. “We can find something on netflix. Just you and me though, I’m tired.”

I bit my tongue slightly, feeling the urge to address the fact that us doing anything probably wasn’t a good idea with four other people sleeping nearby and at least four or five others constantly coming in and out of the house.

He wasn’t even looking at me, though. He, too, was scanning for the right loaf of bread. His eyebrows flew up when he found it, he grabbed it and offered me a toothy smile before placing it in the trolley.

“About that, by the way,” I said to his back--he was heading for the dairy section--which, for whatever reason, wasn’t anywhere near the eggs. “I feel like we shouldn’t tell anyone about what happened the other night.”

“You mean the sex?” He said the words loud enough that my eyes went wide. He’d been all excited about the fact that he was able to grocery shop like a ‘normal person,’ but apparently he’d lost all of his ‘normal person’ etiquette.

“Yes, that,” I rolled my eyes, causing him to let out a laugh. He slowed down, letting me catch up so we were side by side. He slung an arm around my shoulders.

“If I recall correctly, you were pretty excited the other night about it.”

“I’m not saying I wasn’t,” I reasoned, “just saying that I don’t think Jeffrey and all of your friends need to know.”

He was quiet, almost as if his mind was somewhere else. He looked around the store, trying to locate something.

“I’m serious!” I said, whacking him in the stomach. He pulled his arm from my shoulders and rubbed at the spot where I’d made contact. “They’re my co-workers and you’re like--my boss--the last thing they need to know is that I’ve slept with the boss.”

A smirk appeared on his face, his eyebrows raised as I stopped walking. “That’s pretty hot,” he said, his voice quieter than it had been.

While I couldn’t necessarily disagree, now was not the time nor the place for Harry to be saying things that made me want to relive the other night on repeat as if I were Bill Murray living a Groundhog Day scenario.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you haven’t gotten laid in years,” I rolled my eyes, walking away from him to head for the cereal section.

“Four nights ago, actually,” he corrected me, his voice louder so I could still hear him.

I turned around, a box of cheerios in my hands, and shot him a dirty look.

**

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that our first night in Jamaica was filled with alcohol. I don’t know where it all came from or how it got here, but when Harry and I returned from the grocery store, Matt had arrived, Ryan and Teddy were in the living room, and there were about 14 bottles of Jamaican Rum on the kitchen counter.

Harry’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing his face as he carried two bags in from the car. “How did we get all of this?”

“Your friend Ferdinand stopped by,” Jeffrey informed, he stood near the dining table, clad in only a bathing suit and a t-shirt. “Said it came with the rental package.”

I was still a few steps behind Harry, the third bag and the car keys in my hand. Despite hearing the conversation, I didn’t actually see what they were talking about until I looked up.

“Holy shit,” I said, placing the receipt on the counter. I didn’t know if Harry wanted it or not--I tried to force my credit card past him and to the cashier when we checked out, but he shot me a look that seemed intimidating as all hell. I figured I could maybe buy dinner if we went out one night or furnish a night of drinking.

Apparently, that wouldn’t be necessary.

And it wasn’t--after the chef, who’s name was Victor, came and made us a steak dinner, bottles were opened, people were in and out of the pool, and Harry was about three drinks deep in the first hour.

I hadn’t really seen him drunk before. He’d seen me shitfaced and puking at Chelsea’s--which was embarrassing enough for me to never want to drink too much in front of him again. Harry, however, had a different idea for the night.

With his third drink in hand, he was sat in front of the fire pit--Jeffrey to his right and Tyler to his left. I edged my way by him, heading for the bathroom inside, when his hand grabbed at my waist.

“Maggie, come sit,” he tried to pull me into him, his hands on the bare skin beneath my shirt as I wiggled away from him. I shot him a look, one that he met with sad eyes, but a smirk on his lips.

“I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be back,” I promised, quickly putting distance between us. The help of three cocktails apparently made him forget my entire point of our grocery store conversation: sex and work don’t mix.

I made my escape, into the living room and around the corner from the open sliding doors to find the solace of the bathroom. Harry’s producer, who Jeffrey had dubbed as Other Jeff, had arrived before dinner and that left three people that we were still waiting on.

Ryan had hooked his iPhone up to the speakers in the backyard--which held a gorgeous swimming pool that met the edge of the yard before spilling over onto a rocky decline towards the jungle. I spotted three bottles of rum open outside as I made my way in, and I realized that I was definitely the most sober out of everyone.

We weren’t set to head to the studio until tomorrow afternoon, really just to see the space and get acclimated. Then, apparently, on Thursday, things would really get underway and we’d hit the ground running.

I had no idea what Jeffrey meant when he said that.

I walked back outside to the noise--the heat from the setting sun still on the pavement. I made my way back over to the fire pit, where my seat was still empty. When I sat back down, Tyler leaned over and smiled at me.

“Nice to finally get to spend some time with you--I know we met back in 2014,” he raised his glass as if to cheers in my honor. I reached for my glass, which I’d set on a side table next to my chair and brought it to clink against his. I didn’t remember meeting him, but with my foggy memory and his assured tone, I took his word for it. “Glad we’ve got some feminine influence in the house.”

I let out a short laugh. “In all honesty I was kind of freaked out to be the only girl here,” I admitted, taking a sip from my drink as Jeff Bhasker, formerly Other Jeff, let out a hardy laugh at something Alex said to him and Harry.

He waved me off as if to dismiss my worry. “I was freaked out about the fact that I don’t know any of them. I’d only met Jeff and Alex through FaceTime before today.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “I thought everyone knew each other except for me,” I told him.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I also thought I was going to be the only person who didn’t know everyone, so it’s nice to know you’re in the same boat.”

I brought my glass to my mouth again and swallowed. The drink was fruity, some sort of juice and rum mix that Harry had promised I’d like. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best thing I’d ever had, either. I knew he seemed over confident when he dumped in another whole shot of rum as I watched on in horror.

“So how long have you known Harry?” He asked, leaning back in his cushioned patio chair as the song over the speakers changed to a slower tempo.

“For a while, really,” I said, thinking back to the day I met him in 2010. He was tall and lanky and awkward--I was much more interested in Liam back then when I started working with them. Soon enough though my logic kicked in and I realized that there was no way one of them would ever be interested in me when they had half of the world clawing just to get near them. “I started writing for the label right before they were signed, then I just kind of got stuck with them, sort of.”

Tyler laughed, seeing the smile on my face. “Not a bad band to get ‘stuck’ with.”

**

Our tour of the studio the next morning was quick--we stopped for lunch at a small bar in town and a few people were headed to the beach after we finished. Harry, however, wanted to head back to the house and start some writing.

“If you’re not here as a writer, do what you want,” he laughed, waving a hand at Ryan. We were stood in the parking lot, hovering between the three cars we’d taken as everyone decided on their next move.

Harry had given a whole speech at lunch about how he wanted everyone to have fun. We were here to work, first and foremost, but he wanted us all to take the time we needed to enjoy our secluded stint on the island.

“You don’t mind if we go to the beach?” Ryan asked, his hand above his eyes to block the sun.

Harry chewed on a piece of gum and rubbed a hand at his jawline. “No--just don’t die of sun poisoning,” he laughed. “That would really fuck up trying to make an album.”

“We’ll see you at dinner, then,” Jeffrey said, giving Ryan and Matt a two finger salute as they moved towards their separate car.

I climbed into the backseat of the Range Rover we’d been using--Harry seemed keen to drive and Jeffrey seemed to automatically get the front seat. I climbed into the back with Alex and Tyler, sandwiched between them in the hot car.

I did that thing I do where I kept my mouth shut the whole car ride home. I listened to Harry talk with Alex about a lyric idea he got the other night, and I listened to Tyler put Harry in his place when he suggested a god-awful title for some concept he already had. He was getting ahead of himself. Luckily, Jeffrey said it so I didn’t have to.

When we got back to the house, Harry made his way for the couch to pick up a guitar that he’d had shipped in from home. Seven of them showed up in big, road cases, and he’d even offered to get mine shipped alongside his own.

“I was hearing it like this,” he said, humming along some nonsense words over three chords as he waited for Alex to take a seat. I dropped my purse on the counter, thankful for the air conditioning in the house.

“You could do it with a C instead of an e-minor there,” Tyler said, watching as Harry’s fingers moved along the frets.

He shook his head. “I don’t like it like that,” he laughed.

“Oh god,” Alex rolled his eyes, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Is this going to be one of those albums? One where we can’t actually tell you what we think?”

I came to join them, slipping my feet out of my sandals before crossing my legs on the couch. “I’ll tell him what I think,” I nodded, letting my eyes move from Alex’s to Harry’s. “And if anyone else doesn’t feel comfortable doing so, they can tell me and I’ll still him.”

This gained a laugh from each of them, Harry rolled his eyes and finally took a seat, his head leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s still my album, y’know.”

“No one said it isn’t,” I laughed.

He shot me a smirk, one that was probably too friendly for working together, but I tried to ignore it as Alex reached for the guitar. “I do like the hook though,” he nodded, humming the melody again over the same three chords. “It’s nice.”

“Anyone got any words?” I asked, looking around at the three of them. Jeffrey--who’d immediately pulled out his laptop upon arrival back to the house--was seated at the counter, aptly minding his own business and steering clear of what he called ‘creative flow.’

Harry, who seemed somewhat surprised when we all waited for him to say something, blew a breath of air out between his lips. “I just know I want it to be about a city.”

“Pick one,” I said, keeping my eyes on him as he thought on it again. Alex had written with Harry plenty in the past--he’d never really worked with me, but I knew they were likely quite comfortable writing together. Tyler, as I’d learned the other night, really only knew Jeff and Ryan. I took the current group dynamic as my license to push Harry in a way that he might not be used to.

I mean, when I thought about it, writing songs with Harry was suddenly weird and new and some sort of uncharted Island territory. We were no longer just two people who occasionally spent four hours locked in a tiny room in downtown London, now we were people who were Sleeping Together and we were actually Friends and we were Hanging Out.

Maybe the license I suddenly felt I held wasn’t exactly real, but I figured I’d push the boundary anyway.

“Don’t pick L.A.” I told him, shaking my head as he looked up to meet me with an amused expression.

“What if I want to pick L.A.?”

“Everyone writes about L.A.” I waved him off.

He laughed a little, looked back down at the guitar, and played the same d-chord he’d started with. He sang, only a few words, but I liked them.

“Tell me something, tell me anything,” his voice was quiet and I wasn’t quite sure if they were actually words he wanted us to hear. That's the thing about writing. For every twelve good songs you put on an album, you write about 20 terrible ones first.

“Something something, I can’t even sing,” he laughed, the words still dancing along with the melody that he’d hummed in the car.

“Words could use a little TLC, but the sound is there,” Alex joked, pulling out his phone to type in the words Harry had sung. “What are you trying to say?”

Harry sat on that one for a second. He plucked at his lower lip and stared at the red piece of artwork that hung about the electric fireplace. “Confusion. That’s the overall energy, I think.”

He played the chord again, letting it ring through the room this time. “Tell me something, tell me something, you don’t know nothing,” he hummed again through the end of a line, letting the noise fade from his mouth as he looked up to me.

“Words,” he said simply. “Got any?”

I pulled my eyes away from him, unsure if I could really come up with something with his gaze so set on me. “Do you want it to rhyme right there?”

He shrugged his shoulders, still strumming through the progression with his thumb. “Doesn’t have to.”

“Sing it again,” I nodded, waiting for his voice to murmur out the words he’d offered already.

“Tell me something, tell me something, you don’t know nothing,” he sang.

“Just pretend you do,” I said, his eyes still waiting for my contribution. Alex was staring at the floor, tapping his foot to the beat at which Harry played.

“Hm,” Harry smirked, again, the look on his face didn’t feel too appropriate for work. “Not bad.” He took a beat, strummed again, and picked it up. “Just pretend you do, tell me something, tell me something new.”

“Sounds like a verse,” Tyler smiled, a pleased look on his face as Harry stood from the couch and shoved the guitar to Alex.

“We have a verse!” he shouted, his voice filling the room and bouncing off of the walls. “Did you write it down?” He looked to Alex, who still held his phone in his hand.

**

After two hours of a similar nature, Jeff headed down to the other house to greet Andy and Mitch, the two other people who’d be joining us on this wild, completely unorganized adventure. Alex and Tyler decided to meet up with the others at a restaurant downtown for a beer, leaving me to sit awkwardly on the couch while Harry declined the invitation.

They’d asked me to tag along too--and I considered at first, especially when someone mentioned something about ordering fries. Instead, though, I figured it would do me well to take a shower, call my mom, and maybe even nap. Every second since we’d arrived had been busy--even if that was just because there were at least six other people constantly in the room with me.

The door shut behind them, Harry turned to face me, and I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He raised his eyebrows in return, the dimple on his left cheek coming into view. “Is that an invitation?”

I stood from the couch and let out a dismissive laugh. “It certainly was not.”

He pouted for a second, following behind me as I started to climb the stairs. “I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re not going to save water.”

I rolled my eyes despite the fact that my back was to him. “I think you’ll live.”

“I will.” He said confidently. “I’ve made it six days, after all.”

While I appreciated his sense of humor and the way he so easily spoke about the one time we had sex, I turned to face him at the top of the stairs. I could see a car pass by on the secluded road in front of the house--I wondered if anyone on the planet knew where he was.

“Listen,” I said, hanging my head as he stood two steps beneath me. This brought us to eye-level, though he still had a slight advantage over me. “I don’t want this to be weird, now that that happened. I don’t want that to affect the writing.”

He smiled, a crooked one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maggie, can you just--relax for a second about it?”

“I am relaxed,” I defended, crossing my arms. “I drank rum and I’m on island time and all that.”

He quirked an eyebrow at this, clearly not convinced. “I just don’t want you to freak out about it. I like you. We had sex. You’re writing on my album. It’s not as weird as you think it is.”

“Well it sounds very weird when you say it all together like that,” I informed, stepping back to head down the hall. He followed behind, leaning against the doorframe once I got near my bed.

“When I say it like what?”

“We had sex you’re writing on my album.” I mimicked his accent and his tone and sat on the oversized bed. He let out a sigh, walked a few steps closer to me, and then stopped. “Don’t sigh at me,” I told him.

“I’m sighing about you, I’m not sighing at you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re,” he cut himself off and looked all around the room, anywhere but at me. “Because you’re my best friend but I also want to rip your clothes off half the time.”

You’d think I’d find something about that offensive. Or you’d think I’d tell him we couldn’t have sex again and that we couldn’t be best friends and that none of this should be happening.

Instead, I let him rip my clothes off.

[tenorphobic-blog]

Being a cam girl

Being a cam girl, specifically, can be a great option for sex workers because it’s a lot safer than when you are with a client in person. Cam girls still have to protect themselves, of course; making sure people can’t find out their addresses or real names. Those are things that workers in all facets of the sex industry have to worry about, whether you’re a stripper or an escort. But cam girls have the privilege of working from their homes or a studio, where they don't have that threat of violence or diseases. Or they just don’t have to deal with a client having bad breath.I'm definitely one of the cam girls who would hardly ever say no. I've always wanted to try new things, but that's not because I felt like I had to. It's just personally what I want to do. I want to tick stuff off my list, I want to try everything once especially when it comes to sex positivity. Even if it's something I'm not necessarily into, I'd still give it a go. If I didn't like it, I'd be like sorry, I'm not really into that. But there's a lot of people that would say no to a lot of stuff.It happened through a friend of a friend of mine. Thats usually how these things go. She had found, through a network of girls, a website that paid decent money for cam girling if you put the work in. I signed up, submitted my name, ID, bank details and some photos and within 24 hours I was approved as a bonafide Cam Girl ­with no bloody idea of what I was doing.The first time I went private with a guy I freaked the fuck out. All he wrote was get naked. And so far all Id done in a chat room was flash my boobs for an influx of tokens. I froze up in stage ­fright and closed the room. In my group chat I wrote: Sorry, cam froze. And I logged off for the night.

"There's a lot of burnout in this industry," Domino tells me over the phone from one of the three houses she owns in Wisconsin — one of them a lakefront property outside of Madison. She says it with a serious voice that sounds a little tired.I choose who I perform for, when I will perform and for how long it will last. I choose how I perform. When I dance, I feel like I have found liberation in the free expression of my sexuality, in a world that usually tells me to be ashamed of my body. And it is true, I do feel a curious kind of control over those who watch me, a feeling that is so far removed from the usual feeling of my body being controlled by men in my everyday life. I have felt more objectified being a waitress where I politely and quietly serve the needs of men than I do as a stripper.When I first left university, I went freelance straight away and didnt quite realise how hard it was to get regular work. I moved in with a friend who webcammed and I was like Oh that sounds like something Id love to do! I already had a sex blog and I was already posting nudes of myself and I absolutely loved it, but webcamming was a bit more of a jump. Theres still this mad taboo around it, that youre selling your body for sex, but its not exactly like that. You can do whatever you like on webcam. Most of the time youre just talking and keeping people company.But what about cam girls that don’t use studios? I decided to interview a cam girl name Ona Artist who is essentially a camming celebrity—she has 1.3 million followers on Instagram—to find out what that life is like. Turns out, it’s even more work.

Absolutely! Oh my good god! There are so many documentaries that really shit on webcammers, and that really angers me because I don't really think it has anything to do with the webcamming itself. I feel it has to do with the individual, the person. A lot of people end up doing it for money, not necessarily because they enjoy it, and they're made to feel bad about it. I totally feel the opposite. I feel like webcamming is fully me and something I wanted to do; the money was a bonus. MyFreeCams, one of the most popular of the cam portals, has a domain registered to a Leo Radvinsky, and a legal contact in the Netherlands.Domino might not be something so dramatic as that, but she's certainly smart, replies to my questions without the slightest hesitation, and oozes the confidence of a professional from any field. She just pays her bills with a dildo now.Eventually I got a bit more adventurous. I hula­-hooped in my underwear while listening to the Arctic Monkeys. I also did yoga, live­painting with my back to the webcam in only a thong. I racked up a couple hundred bucks over a few days and cashed the cheque sent the next month. By this time I’d masturbated on camera for a few guys, but I was starting to get a little bit paranoid about my face appearing in an advert on another website somewhere and someone I knew seeing it. I have nothing against sex work, having worked in the industry three times now, but I don’t like the idea of say my boyfriend's brother or housemate or one of my own family members opening a webpage to a moving image of my face mid-­orgasm purely because well, I don’t think my family would support that decision. CONTINUED BELOW...