Don’t flinch, dear.
knife
I get a kick out of the fact that I’ve basically become synonymous with my love of knives and knifeplay. It’s funny how tumblr kind of finds a niche for people from the aspects of their lives that they emphasize. I’ve found that this site has a way of compartmentalizing aspects of its members. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I just find it amusing that, here, the things I’m immediately associated with aren’t necessarily things I would consider to be prominent aspects of myself.
But I’ve no issue with being Knivey Ivy. None at all.
The Knife II by ~ nena-suicide
Hey Ivy,
You may like this.
(submission from montecervesa).
—
You may be very right. From this angle, she looks like a lot of fun.
By George, Heart, it worked!
I’m home safe and sound, tumblr. I basically slept through both of my flights, so I don’t really have anything vaguely entertaining to tell you except that now I can’t fall asleep since I spent most of my day that way. Oh boy.
But, thank you for all the support and love I got over these two months I’ve been gone. I got a little over 150 new followers during the time, which might just be an indication that absence makes the heart grow fonder (or that I should go away more often).
<3,
Ivy
Dear Ivy,
If I post pictures of pirate style knife play will you come back?
With love,
-Heart
Ivy Update:
I’m down to my last week here.
While I am very excited to see my friends and family again, I am going to miss this place like crazy. I have had so many amazing experiences and I am trying to work out a way to come back here next summer, possibly for research purposes. The women I worked with were so inspirational and I had some really amazing opportunities and experiences that I never dreamed in a thousand years would be available to me.
Yes, sometimes it got dangerous and uncomfortable. But, no, I would not do anything differently (okay, okay, maybe a few things). I am so grateful to all the people who stuck around to follow me and for all the people who jumped on during my hiatus (there are more than a hundred of you, oh my gosh).
I’ll be back to my normal smut quota soon. See you all in a week.
<3, Ivy
From trilbygrey:
Have you seen this image? I think it may give you pleasure.
—
Um…um. It uh…it did that. Thank you.
I need to go, um, handle some…stuff now…
I remember watching Angelina Jolie on Inside the Actor’s Studio when I was younger. I hadn’t really heard of her and she had just made Gia, which would later become one of my favorite performances of hers.
She talked a lot about the movie, herself, her life all with this very coy smile and casual air. I was just so taken with her. And I remember James Lipton asked her a somewhat uncomfortable question about her sexuality and she, with a little cavalier smirk on, responded very candidly about her interest in taking knives into the bedroom. I remember hearing the blood pumping in my ears, especially when she said that she had scars from when things got too “passionate”.
Am I a fan of scarification? Not at all. But am I a fan of a woman that into knifeplay that she unabashedly discussed it with James Lipton? Hell yeah.
Dear Dacry,
When you play these games with me, you remind me why I tumblr-love you.
<3, Ivy
PS: I clicked the tag with my name and had a giggle.
PPS: Regarding this brat, I would never wear black lipstick. Hmph.
Hold very still. Don’t let the knife drop. If that knife moves even an inch… Well, I think I’ll just cut an inch for every inch the knife falls. How does that sound?
I found this in my inbox from Heart today. I was having a pretty blah day and she really, really knows how to cheer me up.
She claims that I dreamed this man into existence. I clearly did. He’s gorgeous. He’s got knives. And he’s damn proud of both facts. Oh, not to mention the five o’clock shadow, the droopy eyelids, and those lips. Yum.
(And if anyone can tell me who this gent is I’ll be so grateful.)
We all love this photo, but does anyone know who this is, or when?
Continued from here.
She closed up her pocketknife and held it out to me, “so, you like knives?”
I smiled and took it from her, “yeah, I just think they’re beautiful.” I flipped it back open and looked over it. I traced my finger up the blade. It was an absolutely gorgeous pocketknife.
“Do you collect?” she asked.
I shook my head, “no, no, I don’t collect. I just admire.” I tested the tip against the pad of my thumb before adding, “this is pretty nice.” She had to know what she was doing. She had to. No one who isn’t into knives would pick one like this.
No, I told myself. I was reading too much into this. This was probably just some girl who kept a knife around for fun. Who now thought I was a freak of nature for how giddy I was getting over hers. But she had smiled. I tried to think it over, but decided it was pointless to try to analyze it any further.
I closed it and reluctantly handed it back to her. The rest of the night played out fairly normally. I dismissed the entire situation as just a case of a girl who had, by some stroke of luck, but herself a knife without realizing how nice it was. Or someone had gotten it for her. I wasn’t going to ask any more about the knife. I didn’t want to attract more attention to how much I was feeling it.
I had gravitated to a different group of girls before I determined I should head back. I made my rounds, saying goodbye before heading toward the door. I passed her in my friend’s foyer, my hand on the door to the hallway.
“Ivy,” she said as I passed. “I hope I can see you again sometime.” There was a catch in her voice. I turned. She was holding the knife.
I booked it out of there, blushing like crazy.