Cozy n cute

All winter I watched labels like AMITOMO infiltrate events with lovely calf-length baggy outfits. I wanted one, them, some…because I felt like my avs, Portia, Anorak, even Hedda, were tired of slinking around half-naked or bound. But the cornucopia of fetish events leaves a kinkster little time for cozy and cute. When I realized that spring is here, but I was still longing for something capacious, I decided to stop by AMITOMO and, after studying the options, hit the Handmade gacha. I also picked up Exile’s free hair and won Katatonik’s bunny ears, a randomized gift, from the Magic of Ozimals egg hunt. Somehow, cuddly led me back to Mother Goose’s and an olde LB skin that you can still win. And yes, I couldn’t stop myself from going tone on tone. It’s my one OCD tendency, or my version of comfort food.
I also pulled the handle on DAMI’s uniforms gacha at Spring Scandal because the rares are beautifully made. All I got was a lavender hoodie. (I hate casual.) I considered drowning it with the other bunnies—just kidding!—but then decided I could experiment with the kawaii schoolgirl look. It’s not the same without long black hair and either a ghost or a dom. Or both…

Not credited above
hair, pic 2: barberyumyum group gift
skin, pic 2: Glam Affair, Elvi (old but gacha so it might be available)
pose, pic 1: an lar, infinity pack
shot at AMITOMO

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I, embodied

boosterI went to my first-ever yoga class about six weeks ago. Okay, I went to one when I was 20-something: turning red in the face, sweating, and failing to breathe inclined me to think I was not cut out for yoga. Being instructed to feel at one with the earth almost drove me out of the room: it was the late 80s, so I was a hard-core deconstructionist, meaning that anything remotely spiritual—or just plain connection-oriented—was suspect. (Everything was opiate of the masses. I’ve softened over time. Now I would say it’s weed of the many.) Twenty-five years later, I decided to try again because I want to be a more flexible and physically stronger rope bottom. On the first day, I felt completely at home because rope classes have accustomed me to sitting on the floor wearing a pair of leggings and a singlet—and wondering if I should stretch before the lesson. I debated whether I could apply to yoga the same reasoning I bring to sadomasochistic rope—there’s no sense in stretching if it’s supposed to hurt. (There’s hurt and there’s hurt. Eustress good. Distress bad.) (Speaking of, there’s nothing dangerous under the cut.) Continue reading