#or when i was in this server and they body shamed me (call me fat and shit)

[ghostlover4life]

when someone doesn't respond fast enough and you suddenly feel like your ten again begging for your friends to talk or even look at you because you want to have a conversation with them, or when you would say anything in the discord server, and they would all go quiet or just ignore you

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

More:

I worked at a place that had ballroom venues for events. Annually, Chipendale dancers had a show at this place. The amount of calls we dealt with for groping, cat-calling, lewd behavior, and general harassment toward the performers and staff was outrageous. This was at a native owned casino in the Midwest where they also had an annual powwow event at which members of rival native gangs would murder each other. Chipendale night was worse than Indian murder weekend. Anyway, they also hosted boxing events and one guy commented once on how sexy he thought the ring girl was. He was evicted for a year. The ladies who molested security staff? No evictions.

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As a man, even in the most progressive countries, you are seen as the secondary parent to your child.

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We aren't allowed to make fun of fat people, but it's more than acceptable to rip on guys due to their height.

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I had a psycho ex that was trying to kick in my door, I called the cops. She left before they got there. She wrote all over my car in lipstick. The cops laughed at me and were like - you afraid of a girl? And told me they couldn't do anything about the lipstick because they didn't see her do it. I would have been in jail for the same shit.

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I have mentioned this before.. but I have a weird work schedule that gives me several weekdays off. I would take my girls to the parks nearby, and got constant side-eyes and resentment from the haus-fraus and molly-mormon sanity groups there with their kids. I even had the cops called on me twice asking me to prove I had my own kids there.

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wanting men that are tall is a matter of preference and can be voiced out loud and is somehow acceptable even though they have no control over it but men on the other hand can't voice their preference in any regard else they'd be cancelled for body shaming.

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I'm older: I have only cried at a movie one time. It was the end of Braveheart. My date was turned off. Said it was "not cool". Same girl hit me for not crying when Jack went down at the end of Titanic, said it was "not cool". I decided she was not cool.

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I’ve had multiple women make comments on my weight gain

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The Duluth Model. It states that men are abusive in order to control and women are abusive because they are victims of abuse. Most law enforcement agencies use this model in dealing with DV cases. The creators disavowed their own work and admit it is completely biased and flawed but is still in use in the majority of the country

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I was a tray aid (food server) at an elderly home, and I went thru a fitness phase where I lost a ton of weight and gained a lot of muscle. Nearly all of the CNA’s (young and old) would come up and grope me (rub my arms, nipples, back, etc) and talk super flirty about how good i looked. It took a few weeks for the older CNA’s to finally snap out of it and start telling the younger ones that it wasn’t right

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If I open up and share the things weighing on my mind somehow that makes me weak and a crybaby but if I hold it all in and just “suck it up” I’m contributing to toxic masculinity and I’m an asshole.

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When my ex-wife (of a 16 year marriage) had a year long affair before I caught her and we split up. She wanted to not tell anyone that she'd had an affair, and wanted to have an even split on custody and divorce etc. I asked her, "if I'd been cheating on you, would you have agreed to keep it a secret and still let me have 50-50 custody of our kids?" Her answer? "of course not." But like, the way she said it was like, "obviously, cuz you're a man, it's fine to tell everyone about the affair, and for the mom to get the kids." Even, when people did find out there was an affair, 90% of them thought it was me that had cheated. I never cheated on anyone. But cuz I was a guy, then obviously it was me.

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I don't think any of my girlfriends have ever bought me flowers. I like flowers.

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Women don’t ask for consent. I have a female acquaintance who described something they did to a man that would otherwise be considered sexual assault — but she was joking about how awkward the guy was.

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Worked at a hotel in Edinburgh and had to wear a kilt. Cleaning staff LOVED lifting my kilt. I've rarely been out in a kilt but whenever I have been (not weddings) random women will lift it to see. I wouldn't dare lift a woman's skirt. I'm not even that attractive and assume it's much more likely to handsom guys.

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My daughter is now 11, but when she was younger, a lot of women were surprised at how involved I was in my daughter's education, medical appts, and her life in general. There is still the double standard where it's assumed the mother is the one who knows all the details of their kids' lives. My wife had a very busy career and so we tried to evenly split all the parenting responsibilities as much as possible. It was amazing at how many places like playgrounds or fun kid stuff where it would be just my daughter and I, and it was assumed I was a single dad or more often that it was my custody time. Fortunately, my daughter looks very like me because I would sometimes get double takes from mom's to make sure I was not stealing some random kid or a pedophile.

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Women taking advantage of a male teenager rarely get the same disgust compared to a male taking advantage of a female teenager. It's always an abuse of power and wrong no matter who does it. The double standards for this by teachers are the worst.

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If sex with her is not that great that is my fault. If she does not enjoy sex with me that is also my fault.

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After I and my wife separated, she took my kid and told the police, CPS, random doctors, etc that I SA'd my kid. When talking to my lawyer, CPS, police, or whoever, the first thing they would ask is if I'm paying child support and am I up to date with it. Only after I assured them that I was would they continue helping me. Now I've gained custody, she has never even bought a pencil for school but still accusing me of BS. Anytime I bring up child support with anyone it's always "we'll get to that later". Why is she allowed to be a deadbeat mom without consequences while I would possibly be in prison if I were a deadbeat dad?

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A friend of mine is a male military spouse, no kids. You would think that the military spouse community would be so welcoming as everyone has that in common. Absolutely not, in fact he gets denied access to online support groups because he is a guy. He has 0 support. Many military spouse appreciation events don't think or care about male spouses. He just stopped trying to integrate with the other spouses, or go to events. It is really sad.

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Women almost always refuse to acknowlege that men have any problems at all. And when they do acknowlege them, it's like "they're caused by patriarchy, so help us fight patriarchy", and it's like, "no bitch, how about you stop being an ass and have some sympathy for once in your fucking life". So many of men's problems just, don't exist or aren't worth thinking about for women. But when men behave the same way about women's problems, they're sexist.

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In rural Africa, FGM is still a modern day practise that sees the labia and sometimes clitoris removed before the child can even stand up or give consent. This painful procedure leads to death in a small amount of cases. This is obviously disgusting. In the Western world, circumcision is still a modern day practise that sees the foreskin cut away or sometimes bitten off by an adult before the child can even stand up or give consent. This painful procedure leads to death in a small amount of cases. This is widely accepted and sometimes seen as a hate crime to oppose. How is this OK?

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Continued:

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskMen/comments/15cto3y/men_of_reddit_what_absurd_double_standards_have/

==

One double standard that keeps coming up again and again: women's problems are caused by external societal factors ("tHe pAtRiArChY!") that society has to fix, while men's problems are caused by their own flawed internal factors that they have to fix.

She was cutting? It's because society doesn't respect or understand her and doesn't treat her right. Women are already perfect. Society has to recognize that and do better. Teach men that women are hurting.

He killed himself? He must have been fragile and too toxically macho to talk about his feelings. Men should recognize that and do better. Teach boys to cry.

[discorddramahub]

There has been this ongoing feud between me and this group of users (let’s call them Fat Person TF Fetishist, Himbo Fetishist and Anime Body Horror Fan) because of what happened in 2020. Basically after Anime Body Horror Fan under their account left Deviantart she told me that she didn’t like me turning them into a Pokemon in my transformation pics, okay I get why they didn’t like me doing that but could you not make it look like you think it’s wrong for me to defend myself against people like your friends? Your friend was the only who did the stupid ‘covid19 is not a fetish’ shit and asked me to tell them what covid19 was, I said i’d leave them alone but they made whiny status posts about me.

Her last conversation with me made it look like she was siding with Himbo instead of me just because 'oh noes…he did a piece about covid19’ and then the Fat Person Fetishist blocked me and when I asked him to unblock me he called me a creepy stalker, told me to go screw myself or whatever he thought I should do, I responded in the most dignified manner I could and told him i’d leave him by, but the problem was he kept mentioning me, his friends did to.

Like if you want to move on from me, do that, delete all posts about me, don’t go acting like I’m obsessed with you. I am not, you’d think they would get the memo but apparently not even a document that was made three years ago was enough. Yeah, they made a whole ass document accusing me of grooming based on an RP I used to do with two of my characters (dude, it’s just a roleplay session with fictional characters, it’s not grooming, it wasn’t even sexual) and stalking and of all things being transphobic.

It was just one anime character transformation rant, the comment wasn’t even saying anything bad about transgendered people, it was still observing how sometimes fans of specific tf art and stories use both he and she and I was being ignorant because I didn’t know bigender was a thing, so what, it didn’t mean I hate people of different gender identities. I swear there’s a whole part of the Character-TF-Discord-Server that flat out hates me for stuff I did to them in 2020.

You’d think the Fat Person Fetishist would have learned whati gnore means, but he has mentioned me more than once since then. When i’m only just commenting on how his clown transformation fetish and fetishization of fat men contrasts his twitter posts which are about fat-shaming.

[drill-teeth]

Not as brief as I thought I would keep it and late follow up to my “don’t be mean about others’ appearance + other things they can’t control” post because even though I have notes turned off, I peeked in the notes and noticed a bit of a theme. So let me make two things crystal clear.

1. Yes I am aware some people are just going to be mean anyway whether they see my tumblr post or not. That post was largely to vent out frustration and maybe change the minds of a few people who aren’t straight up malicious and thinking about this sort of thing wrong.

2. I was quite honestly not talking about interactions that are largely not publicly shared. And by not public I mean stuff you say and do with your friends irl or in discord servers or whatever. That post was not mainly about small group interactions. If you and/or your friends don’t mind ugly/virgin/whatever jokes with each other that is actually fine. Because you’ve agreed to say that stuff with each other, and you’re approaching each other with a good faith understanding. Of course if someone you know doesn’t like a joke, don’t be an ass and act like they HAVE to take it. But what I was mainly talking about was public shaming, especially online.

You know what I’m talking about. It’s when someone (sometimes deserving, sometimes not) is made very public online for behavior that a lot of people disapprove of. And of course if they are even slightly conventionally unattractive, people will lunge at that feature in their comments for weeks. It’ll be relentless pointing out of this “ugly” feature as if people have identified a villain character design trait and like.

First of all, if the behavior is heinous, that’s what the public should be focused on. The horrible thing they did. Not whether or not the person is fat or whatever.

And two if the behavior is heinous, your comments are not going to be absorbed by that person. They’re not going to care what you think about their appearance because odds are people have been mad at them before and have said that before. You’re just going to be flooding the feeds of people who have that feature and didn’t do anything wrong with dozens of “look at this bald moron” jokes or whatever. Fanning the flames of the already roaring fire of “I have every right to make fun of features of bad people, all ugly people are just one bad deed of a peer away from being body shamed” that exists.

And three. In the case of not heinous behavior (you really should fact check call out posts the best you can), then you’re literally just publicly bullying and humiliating someone online for no reason with the added consequence of that fanning the flames of body shaming culture thing.

[cdroloisms]

Since starvation is canon imagine Dream in the future having to deal with the mental effects of it. His armor doesn't fit and feels like carrying hard rocks that hit him in his bones painfully. It's harder to do things that he did so easily before. He used to be able to move freely, whenever he was trapped he could rely on his body to carry him away from any bad situation. He could climb trees and run and swim so eaily but now it's so much harder, so much more tiring. It's a trapping feeling that follows him around constantly.

aww this ask made me sad ,, yeah post-pandora recovery is going to be a Bitch And A Half. just *shakes c!sam* stop violating basic human rights you creeper man you. 

anyway, have some more syndicate c!dream angst!! 

tws: ed mention (kinda), disordered eating, starvation, trauma, torture (mentioned), vomit mention, internalized ableism (? dream makes a few statements that sorta brush off his trauma), pandora’s vault/prison arc

His armor doesn’t fit anymore.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow. Dream may not be like Techno, is hardly as careful with his armor - he’ll slap on a Prot IV, Mending, maybe Unbreaking if he’s feeling generous, but he’s never really managed to shake the careless ambivalence he’s learned to regard most of his belongings with after their inevitable destruction, not after the chaos that made up growing up with Sapnap and George - not to mention the training from manhunts. His armor was a rushed, simple thing, made much the same way as he would craft any set in iron, the extent of its personalization limited to the neatly-printed “Nightmare” he used to mark each piece as his own. Even so - it had once been his, his constant companion as he traveled around the server, as comfortable over his shoulders as a second skin - it wasn’t pretty, or well-crafted, or worth anything much at all, but it was his.

He doesn’t have very many things that were his from before.

Most of the set is still left on the armor stand Techno had left in the room, only the chestplate missing from the wooden dummy so he can hold it up with his own two hands. He brushes his hands over the surface, feeling out the familiar runes scrawled over it back and front, hardly even legible thanks to his rush job. It’s clearly taken a beating or ten, nicks and scrapes covering it back and front - some familiar, most not - and he frowns as he shifts its weight between his hands, heavy and leaving his arms straining even after just a few minutes.

He’s no stranger to proper training - knows, still, after so long without sparring or practice or anything, that the set is too heavy for him. He may lean towards a lighter armor than most to allow for his movement and parkour, but it was still made for someone well-practiced and healthy - nothing like the wreck of bones and skin he’s become after months without proper meals and torture. He can hardly hold up just the chestplate alone - he’s not stupid. Netherite is heavy, and he can hardly manage more than iron for an hour or two.

He bites his lip, before tucking his head to his chest and pulling the chestplate up anyway.

His hands are clumsy as he pulls the straps tight, fumbling weakly with the buckles in a way that makes his teeth grind against each other. The weight immediately presses against his still-healing ribs, making them creak and ache dangerously in his chest, and the sudden, gasping pressure on his lungs nearly sends him into a panic. He ignores it all, focused on the worn leather on either side, pulls each piece as tight as it will go.

He’s not wearing any padding, and the feeling of the hard metal against his bones is hardly what anyone could call “comfortable,” calls back memories of himself, a foot on his back, pressed against unforgiving obsidian. He breathes in another slow, shivering breath, chest struggling to expand against the weight, and stands in front of the mirror.

He looks dumb.

It reminds him of being a kid and trying on Sam’s diamond armor for the first time, completely dwarfed by its height and breadth, waddling around awkwardly from the foreign weight strapped to his chest and the awkward way it hung off of him. His armor is more familiar but no less unfitting, hollow spaces lingering that should’ve been filled by muscle and fat, his sharp edges digging uncomfortably against its surface. It hums with the same feeling of unbelonging, like he’s taken something that belongs to someone else entirely, the same heavy discomfort that comes from wearing someone else’s shirt or drinking from another person’s mug. Hot tears spring to his eyes, and he stubbornly blinks them away; it’s just a stupid set of armor, really, it doesn’t matter at all-

“Hey, nerd.” Techno’s voice is muffled outside the door, and he knocks softly against the doorframe twice - a request to enter. Dream stares at himself a moment longer, debating whether to shuck off the chestplate first, before sighing and kicking at the floor - once, twice, granting permission.

The door opens slowly, but Dream’s traitorous body freezes anyway for a moment, muscles locked and tensed painfully under the heavy armor, and he forces another breath into his lungs to stave off the panic. Thankfully, Techno knows about his stupid brain enough to know to give him some time, leaning against the door frame as he counts off the seconds in his head until he looks back up again to signal that he’s ready for him to come closer.

His eyebrow lifts and he gestures at the armor he’s wearing. “That’s your old set, right?”

He nods, worrying his lips between his teeth as he lifts his hands to sign. Yeah. Ranboo brought them from S-N-O-W-C-H-E-S-T-E-R.

“Makes sense.” Techno’s face twists as he struggles to follow Dream’s signs; he’s learned quicker than he would’ve expected, at first, but there’s a few things that Dream needs to fingerspell, still. He looks him up and down, a wry smile on his face. “Isn’t that a bit heavy?”

Dream gnaws on his lips further, trying to decide what to say, explain what has left him staring at the mirror in silence for upwards of ten, fifteen minutes now. If he was more in the mood, he’d make a joke about his self-absorption. Instead, he looks away, signing with quick, overly casual movements.

Wanted to see if it fit. It doesn’t anymore.

“Ah,” Techno’s voice, low and drawling, has picked up that knowing tone that Dream’s learning to hate. “I see.”

He frowns, keeping his eyes trained the bottom half of the mirror, to his too-skinny legs peeking out of the bottom of his sweatpants. He tries not to look at himself too much now, doesn’t know what to make of the near-skeleton that stares back at him when he bothers to look, all sharp edges and unnatural hollows, the foreign ridges of his spine running down his back and his ribs sticking out at his sides. None of it is his - not this armor, not this body, all of it belonging to a Dream that hadn’t been through the fire and brimstone of Pandora, that didn’t recoil at the taste of potatoes, that could eat more than two meals a day without throwing up.

“Dream?”

He shakes himself out of his own thoughts, tasting iron from where he’d torn apart his lips with his teeth. He balls his fist, pulls it to his chest. Sorry.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He can hear the sound of Techno shifting from side to side, awkward in the silence hanging thick and heavy in the room, “Anyway, Phil’s made some stew. You goin’ to join us?”

The question gives him pause for far too long as he weighs his options - he knows he should eat more, knows that it’ll be the only thing that helps him fill out and heal and finally start recovering from everything in Pandora, but no matter how much he knows his mind still recoils harshly at the idea of more food. He’s not hungry at all, or maybe he is and he just doesn’t feel it anymore - it’s hard to tell, in this new normal. Everything’s hard, after Pandora.

In a few minutes, he finally signs, biting back a flush of shame at the clear surprise in Techno’s expression.

“Alright, whenever you want, nerd.”

Techno walks out the room, and Dream sighs, a wheezing heave of breath that leaves him exhausted and makes the chestplate feel heavier than ever. One by one, he reaches for the buckles, maneuvering them open so he can pull the netherite over his head and let it fall onto his bed. He stares at the thing for a few minutes longer, lips pursed, at the messily drawn runes and the unfamiliar dents along the top edge and a gouge carved on one side, deep enough to expose a slight blue line of the diamond underneath, and huffs, turning away.

He’ll have to call up Ranboo or something later to see if anyone wants an old set of netherite armor. He has no use for it, anymore.

[womanofwords]

Dhar Mann videos backfiring #4

It’s been a while since I last posted about Dhar Mann, but here I am anyway! I’m back with another Dhar Mann post, this time about a video called ‘Customer FAT SHAMED At BUFFET, What Happens Next Is Shocking’.

It starts out with a buffet (obviously) where Carie, the antagonist, decides to just get up from her food after merely looking at the fat woman, Jackie, at the counter. From there, the fatphobic microaggressions start, with lines such as “You’re really taking advantage of the system there, aren’t you?” and “Leave some for the rest of us, OK?”

It continues on in a similar vein, only stopping temporarily so she can bring a server into the conversation so she can ask if Jackie will get charged double for eating more food than everyone else. He says no, telling them that everyone gets charged the same regardless of how much they eat.

She also brings another patron into the conversation, comparing the other customer’s body to Jackie’s and saying that the other customer had to be better at controlling the amount of food they ate on a day-to-day basis.

When Jackie asks what Carie’s problem is, Carie responds, “My problem is with lazy people, like you. You probably come here twice a week, [and] stay here for hours just gobbling up everything you can find.”

When Jackie points out that she’s only here for a business meeting, Carie just goes “What business would that be? To try and get on disability so you can further take advantage of the system?”

It continues on with more plot-relevant stuff about Carie being here for an interview. A server takes a plate that Carie already had and asked her if she was done with it. She rudely says yes and snatches it away. The plate has a large amount of food on it, and Jackie comments about portion control.

A man in a white coat walks up to her and asks what she is holding, which she hides from him. He sees it and chides her for eating so much, telling her that she looks so good after the weight loss surgery. I’m pretty sure discussing medical information so openly is a violation of HIPAA. When Jackie questions Carie about what the doctor just said, she lies and says her body is from working out at the gym and Jackie is probably just one of those lazy fat people who “sits around shoving their face with Haagen-Dazs ice cream all day, and then complain about how fat you are”. And then two people from her high school find her and openly talk about her weight loss procedure, making it very clear that she had a weight loss procedure. They pull up a Facebook picture of Carie from a year ago that looks much fatter than Carie now, which I am going to assume is either Photoshop or the actor wore a fat suit for the sake of one picture.

Once they’re gone, Carie snaps at Jackie and goes “Don’t get mad at me because I can afford the surgery. Maybe if you did something other than shove your face full of food, you’d be able to afford it too.”

From there, nothing really noteworthy happens, other than it conveniently being that Jackie, the fat woman that Carie was mocking earlier is the president of Hot Topic, meaning Carie never gets the job she was here for. Because she never gets that job, she can’t continue to make payments on her weight loss surgery. Also, she spills food onto her top, because karma.

Now on to the critiques I have. First, big helpings of fatphobia. The idea that fat people are lazy, spend all their time eating and whine about why they’re not losing weight while doing nothing to solve the problem (the problem being their own fatness) themselves. Also, some ableism and classism to really round out the video, because why not? /s. The casual notion that disabled people are faking their disability and/or mooching off government assistance is something used in Dhar Mann videos more than once. And the classism being used by Carie about how she could afford to have surgery, and Jackie could also afford it if she worked hard instead of being lazy like most fat people. I’m only going to say this once.

Not all fat people can afford surgery, and not all fat people want one. Stop assuming they do.

However, if a fat person wants to have surgery to lose weight, then that’s OK because it’s their body. Also, surgery may make losing weight much easier, but that doesn’t mean someone can just continue with the diet they had and lifestyle they were living before the weight loss.

In conclusion, Dhar Mann’s video has a lot of issues and the same moral as always: don’t make fun of people in case they’re rich or become rich later, because they won’t help make you rich if you made fun of them before.

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

[n7punk]

I was working on this digital fan art for an author whose writing I loved. However, I’ve recently become aware of some toxic behavior on their part. I’m really proud of how the art is turning out though! I even considered making another tumblr to post it so that I could hide my shame. Moment of weakness. I downloaded tumblr to look at She-ra fan art and read other people’s ramblings but I’m incredibly grateful for the thoughtful way you approached the topic. It forced me to dig deep and really think about what I support and what my support means to other people. The depth of discussion around this is hard for me to grasp (cis lesbian using she/her pronouns) but I want to and you specifically are helping me. Long way of saying thanks, I think you’re smart af. I ALSO LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!

ty! rest assured, if i ever do something transphobic, it is an accident and please correct me. I dealt with so much internalized transphobia when i came out to myself (//cw transphobia: i cant count how many hours i spent laying in my bed shouting “youre a girl! just be a girl!” to myself) and it’s hard to deprogram that shit.

The art is a tough situation, especially when you have something like that which you are proud of. If you have friends in the fandom space, perhaps you could share it privately with them so someone can still appreciate it with the appropriate caveats behind the source of the initial inspiration?

Under a read more because I don’t want to give her a voice but I wanna rant about her “apology”:

if she had been at all remorseful, that would be a different conversation, but i am 100% convinced she is a crypto-terf. She deleted her original 6-tweet response that “i’m right that this isn’t transphobic” but boy was it something, and the thin apology she posted later was not sufficient, nor did it feel at all genuine to me.

And okay, let’s pretend that excluding someone based only on their genitals isn’t inherently transphobic: it would still be problematic and hurtful, like having a mug that says “i dont do [fat people]” or any other personal feature. it is discriminating someone based on their body, and nobody would be defending that as a “personal choice” of hers, they would be calling it fatphobic (which takes us back to the part where this was absolutely transphobic).

Then she pulled the “cancel culture is toxic and hurts everybody” card in her next tweet, making herself out to be the victim in the grand scheme. These tweets were not rash reactions btw, they were spread out over the course of several hours or even a day, and she didn’t delete them for many hours afterwards either - these tweets are how she really feels, and the fact she has since deleted everything and is not addressing it shows that she doesn’t want to learn better. (She could be addressing it on her discord/patreon, idk im not on there, but I doubt it).

This isn’t the first incident with her showing disregard for others and it won’t be the last. Her server was a toxic place I legitimately felt trapped in even though I rarely spoke. My readers would notice if I left, so I was thankful when I was given an out to leave. That is when I posted about not taking requests, but I was actually leaving because of the three separate incidents where they triggered me with the disgusting and violent content they posted. They would repeatedly praise authors I have blacklisted for triggering content. If I had owned that server, I would have completely banned discussions of those works, censorship be damned. I can tell you from how she handled triggers that Silk only cares about things that negatively affect her personally. She isn’t a kind or caring person, and that would be enough to earn my block, even if she wasn’t a terf (which she is).

[nocturnal-dreams]

Probably gonna delete this in a bit

So here's my official message on what's been going on since I think I'm drunk enough and its almost midnight so probably this is a bad idea but I can't give a fuck anymore.

I've gotten fake discord messages that are trying to say they are me saying stuff like the n-word and telling people to kys and I just want to quickly say those are not me. I do not go by Nocturnal-Dreams on any discord servers specifically the Pog Bog where my name isn't Nocturnal-Dreams nor is it in blue text (if you must know it was Nocturnal-Daddy and it was in yellow text). Because of all that shit and anons not believing me, I chose to just leave the Pog Bog.

I've been getting anons and tumblr messages from the mainly Ted Bundy stans for the past few months now telling me to kill myself and that they wanted to r*pe me because of something I said about Ted Bundy months ago. I've also been getting doxxing threats and death threats because I was confident enough in my body to post some photos of me that were very much covered up but I still get called a slut and a whore for it along with fat shaming.

My deadname was exposed online a few months ago and I have also been recieving anons calling me a girl and using my deadname. At this point I'm too tired and depressed to even care if people call me by my dead name or by Will (the nickname I went by).

Its getting to the point with all this shit that I've just wanted to unfriend everyone because some of my friends are now recieving hate because they are friends with me. I love all my friends and it hurts having to do shit like distancing myself and avoiding liking their posts since I don't want people to know and send shit to them.

I keep being told also that I am faking my borderline personality disorder since I don't 'act' bpd online? You guys need to understand that the way I am online and the way I am actually are very different. There have been plenty times that I've been sitting on my floor with my lighter in my hand and I'll end up posting something like I'm the happiest person. I don't want to do that anymore and that's why I've been way more open on when I'm struggling and now I'm being told that I was faking.

There's been times I don't even want to get out of bed anymore and have the urge to delete tumblr and just never answering anything again. I'm tired and things just never seem to get better since I know I fucked up months ago and got myself in drama I shouldn't have but now I can't escape.

[hoedameron]

i have a complicated relationship with food.

on one hand, i love food, i love meals, i love the concept (and practice) of cooking and baking. the togetherness one feels when you make something with loved ones and how nourishing it can be. even when you’re by yourself, to eat feels so good. you are alone with this meal and it feels personal; that you’re nourishing and taking good care of yourself.

on the other hand, eating is vulnerable to me. i hate admitting when i’m hungry as if i’m ashamed that my body feels this empty pang. eating in front of others can be intimidating if i don’t know somebody that well and even if it’s in front of friends, i am hyperaware of how i’m perceived. whenever somebody asks what i’m eating, i get defensive, and all of a sudden i get a wave of shame. so many times, to me, hunger, eating, making food...feels like a private ordeal. don’t be seen nor heard, eat in a corner, don’t let others watch, you’re pathetic, “but i must eat”, not this, not that...it’s heartbreaking.

a part of me wonders if this developed in college but even then, that vulnerable and shameful feeling followed me every time i went to the cafeteria. every single time, i took my meals to go because, again, this was private ordeal. i couldn’t be vulnerable in public like that. however, i always loved seeing others interact with their friends, their family, their significant others eating a meal together. to see a group of friends in line and cracking jokes, some students were even close with the servers and chefs and their familial interactions made me smile. they were openly hungry, not afraid to admit that they’re starving, and embraced what it is like to be human. the way that they expressed how much the food made them full, how great the flavors were or how rich it was...it was endearing. “do you want the cookie or the cupcake?” one football player asked his buddies to which they took both. i want to have that confidence to be open about my appetite.

but i suppress it. 

“you’re not hungry, you’re bored”, “you can wait until lunchtime to eat”, “you don’t need dinner”, “why are you snacking for the third time today?”...i punish myself for eating but i don’t necessarily follow my own advice all the time. maybe it comes with the territory of being fat where we don’t allow ourselves to be open about being hungry for fear of judgment. maybe it lead to my massive weight loss where i lost 20 pounds in less than a month. i called it an accomplishment, my family was impressed, and in a vain way, i was proud of myself. i still can’t stand looking myself in the mirror for more than i have to.

i want to be hungry, to allow myself to be starving then satiating that need without feeling shame. i want to feel full without judgment. i want to enjoy food again without it being a secret that i crave, that i eat, that i am human.

i want to be human.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 100 Days - Kiro (Day 51 - 100)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

What’s the 100 Days Companionship Event?

Day 1 - 3: here

Day 4 - 30: here

Day 31 - 50: here

Day 51

The game we played together has released new DLC. Want to come online tonight and play it?

Day 52

Each time I see delicacies in comics, I always find them especially enticing. Next time, let’s try making them together, okay?

Day 53

If I sleep one hour less and wake up one hour earlier, I would have two more hours to chat with you. The ancient people are right - sleeping and waking up early improves one’s quality of life.

Day 54

I heard that a new braised goose cafe opened recently. I’m using my gaze to hint to Miss Chips to hand over her resting time this evening.

[Note] I’m not sure if there’s a typo but I don’t think “撸鹅” (“lu e”) means anything? I’m guessing it’s supposed to be be 卤鹅 (which shares the same pronunciation), which means braised goose. Do correct me if I’m wrong!

Day 55

Today is an exercise “cheat day” - let’s have a sumptuous meal together? How about that hotpot stall from last time?

Day 56

Today, Apple Box and Cello each took one of my socks into their mouths and ran…. Only after scrambling for a while did I manage to leave the house…

Day 57

There’s a new movie to film, and I don’t know which role I’m getting this time. I hope I wouldn’t have to cut down on fat again…

Day 58

The days of eating salads are about to begin again… Next time, I’ll definitely ask Savin to pick a fatter role!

Day 59

The fruit flavoured milk I loved when I was young… as expected, it’s still just as delicious now!

Day 60

I helped Mango Ice’s owner design a perfect walk procedure. In the end, it didn’t follow the route and frolicked around! Technology doesn’t understand Corgis!

[Trivia] The last sentence probably doesn’t make sense in English, but it’s a play on words in Chinese because technology 科技 (’ke ji”) has the same pronunciation as corgis 柯基 (“ke ji”)!

Day 61

I swear - the reason why I snatched the last ice-cream from you is solely because I was afraid you’d catch a cold. It’s definitely not because I wanted to eat it myself!

Day 62

Guess where I’m sending you this e-mail from? The highest mountaintop of Loveland High!

Day 63

Why is your teddy bear plush wearing the same sweatshirt as I am! Could it be…

Day 64

The most amazing part of autumn is how it combines everyone’s happiness into eating hotpot and lying under quilts.

Day 65

Let’s watch a movie. I heard that the new superhero is modelled based on a stag. I wonder if he’d be awesome!

Day 66

I discovered that the most dangerous place is the safest place. Savin will never find the snacks I’ve hidden in his office, hahaha!

Day 67

Are you thinking of me? I can’t be the only one secretly thinking about you, right?

Day 68 (Halloween)

Title: Exclusive sweets

Ding dong ding dong, Miss Chips, open the door quickly! If you don’t receive the exclusive sweets, Troublemaker Kiro will definitely not leave!

Day 69

When one is hungry, everything looks like food. I even saw a sandwich walking over to say hello…

Day 70

I woke up early to play a game, but it was undergoing server maintenance. I’m so angry!

Day 71

The newly released sake flavoured soda is really strong. I’ve decided to use it to deceive Savin so he’d give me a day of rest to see you.

Day 72

Today, I reached out to touch a stray cat’s head and it didn’t dodge. I’m happy, and feel as though I’m the chosen one!

Day 73

I played baseball after such a long time. It’s a pity you didn’t see how incredibly dashing I looked.

Day 74

Perhaps it’s because of the season, but I’ve been feeling blue recently. The symptom is that I want to see you at every moment.

Day 75

One of my earpieces is broken. I suddenly feel so helpless without surround sound QAQ

Day 76

Miss Chips is truly my medicine. The moment I see you, I feel my entire world becoming sunny and cloudless!

Day 77

Your new hairstyle today is really cute. Looks like you flop around in your sleep too. I actually like that tuft of curled up hair!

Day 78

When will there be a legally recognised Eating Hotpot Day - the kind which lasts seven days a week?

Day 79 (Single’s Day)

Received a gift from a five-year old little fan. He used autumn plants to make a portrait of me, so today’s Kiro has a maple and blueberry scent!

Day 80

Today’s achievement: Anonymously posted a karaoke recording, and the comments reflected that “the singing seems to sound like Kiro!”

Day 81

I played a new game recently, and the main character is a hacker. In the end, he was fighting and killing all the way - we hackers are not like that!

Day 82

Do you still remember that pop-up donut shop from last year? This year, they announced that there will be a new theme. Looking forward to it!

Day 83

The script for the new movie is quite similar to the very first role I took up. Even though it’s a similar role, I’ll play it with a different feeling.

Day 84

Saw an old grandfather clipping an old grandmother’s nails. I also want to clip your nails once. Is that okay? I’ll definitely be very careful!

Day 85

Today, a stray cat was sleeping underneath the van. In order not to disturb its sweet dream, I decided to be fully equipped and ride a bicycle to meet you.

Day 86

Why can’t I remove the bitterness of black coffee even after adding so many sugar cubes, yet just one you can make my life so sweet?

Day 87

Everyone will experience a few meteor showers, a few solar eclipses, and a few red moons in their lifetime. I hope you’ll be by my side during these special moments.

Day 88

The sweatshirt you’re wearing today is really cute. I couldn’t help but place a toffee in your hood. You haven’t realised it, have you?

Day 89

I felt as though I sang incredibly well in the bathroom, so I recorded a section and sent it to you. Listen to it quickly!

Day 90

I really want to watch movies with you, the both of us shutting the curtains and burrowing in a small room together. Let’s make it a reality tonight!

Day 91

I’ve thought of an ultimate way to eat mangoes without dirtying our hands. Want to know what it is?

Day 92

You looked really cute when I caught you secretly listening to my song! Actually, there’s no need to do it secretively. You can express your favouritism to me unabashedly!

Day 93

Suddenly recalled those rocking cars which could sing in front of the supermarket entrance. Did you ride them when you were younger?

Day 94

Every time I cover your eyes, you’d call my name at the first try. Is it really that easy to guess?

Day 95

How does Savin always manage to find my hidden snacks? I suspect that he has installed a surveillance monitor on my body!

Day 96

Let’s go to the KTV. I want to hold a concert with you as my only audience.

Day 97

Out of curiosity last night, I bought a large pack of strange flavoured chips.  I tried one bag today, and now I feel as though I can see little green men from Mars flying in the sky.

Day 98

In the future, let’s frequently flip through these sign-in records. Even though it’s a little shameful, I really want to recollect this period of time often!

Day 99

There’s a kind of liberating feeling when it’s after work and I’m in the car on the way to you!

Day 100

I wish to tell Miss Chips, who’s persevered in signing in over this period of time, that she has worked hard! Looking forward to the next game with you!

[leechtwinsfling]

Twisted Wonderland @ DISNEYLAND  [ Chapter 3 ]

✨ Twisted Wonderland FanFiction ❤

[ Disneyland Date Series - HEARTSLABYUL ]

-----------------------------------------------

We are lead another portion of the garden as I find decorated tables inside the tall wall rose bushes. A few people are already seated as a server dressed similar to a butler heads our way before bowing.

“Welcome, for two?” 

“Ah, no, we actually have five more coming. So it’ll be a total of seven.” I answer getting the butler to nod before leading us to an empty table of eight. 

The table has a black tablecloth with three rounded plants in a row on the middle of the table. Each golden seat has a red ribbon wrap around with roses behind. There are three sets of different size plates, and neatly organized cutlery along with tea cups.  

Since the size of the table is similar to the seating back at the Heartslabyul’s Unbirthday Parties, I take my seat at the middle of one side as Riddle takes the head. We wait patiently for the others to come as I find small snacks already on the table.

Trying not to drool at the appetizing food, I hear familiar voices nearby getting me to look over to the entrance to find Cater and Trey. Smiling, I wave them for their attention as they are looking around. Seeing us, they inform one of the butlers who was welcoming them before heading over. 

“Hey guys.” I greet.

“Hey, the Queen of Hearts mentioned you two.” Trey informs with a chuckle, “Said that it’s a shame Riddle doesn’t have a lover.”

I laugh hearing this as Riddle sighs, “If I have a relationship, I don’t want it to affect my learning.”

“What, is there a rule that doesn’t allow you to date?” I ask.

“Actually -” 

“WOW! THIS PLACE IS AWESOME!” a distinct voice shouts getting all of us to instantly know who it is. 

Looking over to the entrance again, we find the three stooges grabbing everyone’s attention. I couldn’t help stifle a laugh watching them running everywhere as the butlers try to calm them down. Seeing Riddle getting annoyed, it seems like the three could feel his glare as they stop and look over to us. They halt their crazy running before heading over to us quietly. With how they act reminds me of children who know they’re in deep trouble from their parents. 

“There are other people here, don’t bother them.” Riddle lectures them for minutes as I find Cater sitting between Riddle and I. 

Trey sits across from him having an amused smile on his face watching the three as usual getting a scolding. When the second year finally finishes with a huff, the three take their seats. Grimm sits beside me as the other two sit across, all with guilty glum faces.

“So where did you go?” I ask Grimm wondering where he went when we were at the theater. 

“I smelled tuna, but in the end it turned out to be tuna scented eraser.” the cat sighs as I react with a horrified face.

Tuna what eraser?!

Just when I am about to comment about such an absurd product, trumpet horns ring as I realize that every table is now full of people. A red carpet rolls down the entrance as the mascots that we saw minutes ago walk down towards the larger table at the end. It’s design is near the same replica as all the other tables except for the parts where it’s bigger for the mascots’ hands and size.

“Presenting! Queen of Hearts!” a soldier-like dressed staff shouts as the Queen is the last one to walk down the red carpet.

When everyone is seated, the Queen stands up, “I welcome you all to my Unbirthday Party. Please enjoy yourself!”

With that, people dig into the tea and food offered getting me to wonder how do we pay for all this.

“I’m pretty sure all this is not free, so where do we pay?” I ask Cater who’s munching on a bite-size sandwich.

“Oh, we paid it beforehand. Trey reserved it once we were told we’re coming to Disneyland for a field trip.” he answers.

Okay, not a shock.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Ace asks staring at the Queen like a love-struck boy.

“Ace... you do know she ain’t real, right?” I ask concern for his well-being.

He dramatically gasps at me, “Don’t say that! What if the children hear you? It’s like saying Santa is not real!”

Turns out, someone must have heard him as a nearby table a child begins crying saying that Ace said Santa isn’t real. The parents look over to our table before giving a disapproving glare.

“Good job, Ace. You ruined a kid’s childhood.” I shake my head disappointingly at him.

“Hey! You’re the one who started it!” Ace blames.

“Quiet, let’s all just enjoy the tea please?” Riddle sighs already used to our bickering during times like this. 

With us enjoying some small talk about our experiences so far, along with the tea and snacks, I hear Cater soon humming along with the music which I recognize is the ‘Unbirthday Song’. Couldn’t help myself, I decide to hum along getting his attention. He breaks into a smile before singing along with the music and raising his tea cup to me. Laughing, I clink my tea cup with his as we both begin singing the song.

“A very merry Unbirthday to me !” he begins singing loudly that other people look over to us.

“To who?” I sing back deciding that it’ll seem fun despite being embarrassing. 

“To me!” 

“Oh you!” I point to him looking shocked.

“A very merry Unbirthday to you!” he offers me a hand which I take after putting my tea down.

“Who me?” I question.

“Yes, you!” he quickly touches my nose.

“Oh, me!” I gasp in surprise.

“Let's all congratulate us with another cup of tea! A very merry Unbirthday to you!” he cheers as people begin applauding and cheering.

Laughing at how he amazingly hit that high note, he then pulls me off from the table as he continues singing. Instead of being a small show to each other, it then becomes a huge performance for the whole party.

“Now, statistics prove, prove that you've one birthday.” I speak looking over to a group of children enjoying the unplanned performance.

“Imagine, just one birthday every year!” Cater adds.

“Ah, but there are three hundred and sixty four Unbirthdays!” I cheer.

“Precisely why we're gathered here to cheer!”

“It’s also my Unbirthday!” a child from the crowd raises his hang getting Cater and I to look over at each other before smiling and heading over to the small boy.

“It is?” Cater asks picking the child.

“What a wonderful world this is!” I pat the boy’s head.

“In that case!” Cater puts down the boy.

He puts the boy’s hand with mine before grasping the other boy’s hand and mine. We begin dancing in a circle as we continue to sing.

“A very merry Unbirthday!” we sing as children become rushing over to join the circle.

“To me?” the small boy asks.

“To you!” I smile finding the circle growing big as adults are cheering from the sidelines.

“A very merry Unbirthday!” the audience then begins singing.

“For me?” the children asks.

“For you!” we all shout.

“Now blow the candle out my dear and make your wish come true! A merry merry Unbirthday to you!” we all sing together.

Once the music ends, I can’t help but laugh as the children demand another performance from Cater and I.

“One more time! Can we please?” a child begs pulling down my shirt.

“Please!” other children chorus.

“Okay! Okay!” Cater agrees, “Everybody get ready!”

Everyone heads back into a circle as another child grabs my hand. I smile at the small girl who smiles widely back at me.

“You have a nice boyfriend, Big Brother/Sister.” she speaks.

Okay, stop right there. How many times has it been that people mistaken me to be with these boys.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I laugh.

“Eh? But you’re holding hands with him!”

“Yes, and everyone else is holding hands with others too, right?”

“Ah!” she realizes, “Yeah!” 

After many repeats of singing and dancing, the parents decide to help us as they see the exhaustion on Cater and I. Giving a relief sigh, I feel Cater lean on top of me with his chin on my head.

“Ah~ I didn’t expect to be so tired this early in the morning.” he  hugs me, “[N/A]~ Carry me~!”

“You think I can carry your heavy-butt?” I ask feeling tired on my own.

“So mean~”

“Can’t help but tell the truth.” I laugh before feeling him actually put all his weight on me, “Ugh, oh my god, what did you eat?”

“Trey~! [N/A] called me fat!” Cater tattles as I’m trying to support us from not falling face down on the ground. 

“I didn’t! How do you expect me to carry a grown man?! I’m still growing!” I argue dragging us towards our table.

“I’m still growing!” Cater gasps.

“Ha, not with your age.” I laugh obviously fooling around.

“I’m only two years older than you!” 

“Two years! You’ve eaten more than 2190 meals than me!” 

“How did you get that number?” 

“Well, there’s 365 days, and the average amount of meal is three. So 365 times three is 1095. Then multiply with two since it’s two years, and that’ll be 2190.” I easily explain.

The boys can only stare at me as the first years look at me like I’m talking gibberish as the older two didn’t expect this from me.  “Okay, I might be not that smart at school but that’s only because everything I’m learning is entirely new to me! Remember, I’m from a different world than you guys.” I remind getting them to snap out of their daze.

“Awe, our little transfer student continues to surprise us all still.” Cater hugs me tighter. 

I let out a choking sound, “Can’t breath. Can’t breath!”

He releases me allowing me to gasp for air before relaxing, “I thought I was gonna die just then.” “Am I that strong~?” “With the addition of your body weight, then sure~” I continue to tease getting him to gasp and sulk before slapping me playfully.  Laughing, I sit back onto my seat as he does the same. The party continues as the mascots visit each table to talk with the children. I, personally, am stuffing myself with this delicious food in front of me.

“Y/N~! Try this!” Cater offers a bite of his small chocolate cake on his fork. 

Without hesitation, I take a bite and can’t help but moan from the richness it melts on my tongue.  “Right~! It’s so good! Here, have another bite.” he offers another spoonful which I once again eat from.

“This scene reminds me of a mother feeding her baby.” Grimm comments.

“Don’t be jealous that Mother loves me more than a stray cat.” I stick my tongue out at Grimm playfully. 

“Ah! There’s chocolate on your cheek.” Cater takes a napkin and gets ready to wipe it but stops.

Instead he smirks and leans in before licking the chocolate off my cheek. My eyes widen as I can’t help but blush like a tomato. The others saw this and are frozen into place as they can’t believe what happened. “There~” Cater smiles acting like nothing happened but knows what chaos he just started.  And the party ends with a food fight started by the first years. 

[ to be continued ] 

[bobasheebaby]

Somebody That I Used to Know- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 11

Pairing: Liam x MC; Liam x OC

Word count: 1,354

Warnings: Evil Liam, fat shaming, Rebecca

Summary: Rebecca learns of Liam’s infidelity.

Song inspiration: Somebody That I Used to Know by Goyte featuring Kimbra

A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) Thank you to everyone still on this crazy train, and everyone who just joined. Moving forward and I hope to answer a few questions. The fat shaming is all the character, it actually hurt to write it as I myself am very curvy, love your body and yourself and don’t let anyone make you feel bad for how you look.

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I only own my OC’s, the rest I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

“Liam, I know we have to put on a front, but surely there is something you can do to make the media stop constantly talking about Drake’s tragic demise.” Rebecca forcefully rolled her eyes. “I mean they are completely ignoring the coming heir.”

Liam rolled his eyes as Rebecca continued to prattle on about how their child should be getting more attention. When did she become so self obsessed? Was she always like this and I was just blind to it? Oh I wish could just be rid of her now. “They’ll have something new to report soon.” Where is the Rebecca I fell in love with? I want the woman I thought she was.

“Oh?”

“They found the bodies, or they think they did. I’ve had them keep it out of the press until the dental records could be confirmed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“So, was it them? Is this nightmare finally going to be put to rest? Will we finally be able to focus on what’s important?” She rubbed her round stomach. Oh please just let this all be over!

“Bastien’s dental records were confirmed. I’m waiting to hear if it was in fact Drake they found, but since the body was found with Bastien’s it’s looking that way.”

Oh thank god! “We need to go celebrate!” She leaned forward telling the driver to head back into town.

“Celebrate?”

“Yes, that all of this will finally be behind us and we can finally focus on our family.” Her sapphire eyes sparkled but lacked the luminous blue shine.

Liam cleared his throat. Soon I will be free of her. “I don’t think celebrating is a good idea, or that we should go out to do so, Doctor Ramirez was still worried and ordered continued bed rest.”

“Honestly Liam! One lunch won’t hurt, and of course I’ll be sure to continue to keep my bereaved front while we’re at lunch. I am sick of bed rest! I’m going out to lunch. I need to be seen, maybe they just need to see that the heir is indeed coming and they will finally stop speaking about Drake and Bastien.” She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder. “Besides, I really think that doctor is full of it and doesn’t know what they are talking about. So what if my blood pressure is a little high? I feel perfectly fine.”

“You know that’s not her only concern.”

“Yea, yea, yea. Placental abruption, yawn.” She dismissed the words with a wave. “She’s fine, I’m fine, nothing is going to happen to us.”

*

Rebecca looked around the nearly empty cafe. I wanted to be seen! She rolled her eyes, at least he gave in to me. She smiled. He always caves eventually. She glanced down at Liam’s flashing phone. He won’t mind if I check, he’s expecting a call. Maybe it’s news about Drake and we can finally move on. She slid his phone over, sapphire eyes going wide when she saw the message on the screen. What the fuck?! She swiftly unlocked his phone, scrolling through his messages. You have got to be fucking kidding me! Weeks upon weeks of texts painting a perfect picture of infidelity. She felt steam leave her ears as a few pictures came in. She’s a fucking heifer?! Oh hell no! She looked up as Liam returned to his seat.

His brows knitted together as he took in Rebecca’s hardened expression. “Everything alright?”

“It absolutely is NOT alright.” She hissed through clenched teeth. “I can’t believe you cheated on me!” She pushed the phone forward, picture of Alessandra in her underwear on the screen. “And with a fucking fatty! Couldn’t you find someone thin to suck your dick?”

“You will not talk about Alessandra like that!” He seethed.

“Why the hell not?! She’s nothing more than a fat heifer! Does she even know you’re married or that I’m pregnant?”

“As a matter of fact she does, she knows the truth.”

She sat back with a smirk. “Oh you told her how you stole your best friends girl and then had him killed? I understand you wanted him out of the way, but maybe you should have waited so they’d actually be talking about our heir, instead of when they will find some goddamn dead bodies!”

“Enough, you vapid shallow—”

“Tsk tsk Liam, is that any way to speak to your pregnant queen?”

“When my queen is a bitch? Absolutely.”

Rebecca clenched her fists, letting out a short annoyed scream, her pale cheeks turning crimson with controlled anger.

“Alessandra is ten times the woman you’ll ever be!”

“Well duh, of course she’s a bigger woman than me!” She laughed. “I would hate to ever be fat for no reason. I mean I think her rolls have rolls!” She raised her voice. “I can’t believe you’re cheating on me!”

Patrons and servers turned to stare. Cutlery clinked on plates as it dropped from the stunned crowds hands.

Liam motioned for one of the guards. “Could you please escort the queen home, she’s not feeling well.”

“I feel just fine! Get your fucking mitts off of me!” She struggled in the guards hands. “I can’t believe after everything you cheated on me!” She bit back angry tears. “Go have fun with your fucking fat whore!”

*

Rebecca stormed into the empty royal apartments, anger coursing through her. I can’t believe that after everything he did to get me he went and cheated on me! That ungrateful asshole! He should have just left me with Drake, we could have been happy. She sank on the couch flipping on the television. I wouldn’t be on fucking bedrest, we’d be welcoming a baby without complications. She paused flipped through the channels. Wait, there’s nothing wrong with me! That fucking asshole! He paid the doctor before I bet he did it again so he could fucking cheat! She let out a relieved breath, rubbing her stomach. I knew it was nothing!

BREAKING NEWS…

Oh could it be? Please let this nightmare be over. She held her breath as she watched the words scroll across the bottom of the screen.

BODIES OF BASTIEN LYKEL AND DRAKE WALKER FOUND AND IDENTIFIED

She slowly released her breath, the chains of not knowing release her from their grasp. I can finally breathe. She was finally free of him once and for all, no more wondering if he might come back. Maybe I can finally get a decent night's sleep. She stood flicking off the television.

She paused in the doorway to the bedroom, every surface covered with new arrangements. “Oh you have got to be kidding me! He’s dead, he’s gone move the fuck on!” She froze as the familiar scent of earthy pine mixed with sandalwood invaded her senses. No he’s dead. It can’t be. She shook her head, the scent of gardenias, peonies, and lilacs replacing the scent, all of her least favorite flowers scents mixing together making her want to retch. She glanced around the room, her face twisted in distaste as she saw her most hated flowers in every vase. If I can move on why the hell can't the rest of the country?! She plucked a card from a vase of peonies, her eyes going wide at the familiar handwriting staring up at her, taunting her.

I know.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a slow deep breath. He’s dead. He’s gone. She released the breath as she opened her eyes, Savannah’s neat script staring back up at her. She crumpled the card in her fist, tossing it to the ground. “You know nothing or you wouldn’t hide behind petty games!” She lifted the vase of peonies, heaving it at the wall, an explosion of water, glass and flower petals rained down upon impact.

She lurched forward as a pain sliced through her abdomen. She clutched her round stomach, clenching her teeth through the pain. It’s nothing. Everything has been just my imagination playing tricks on me. I’m perfectly fine. I will show them all that they messed with the wrong woman.

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[safrona-shadowsun]

The Siren and an Assassin

{ Rp put together of Safrona and Orchid’s first meeting, now only known as @thefirstperished​. It is a glimpse of the individual history so often swept beneath the rug of each character now. Thank you for reading if you do!}

The Vermillion Pearl was one of the fewer high-class establishments that those paying could find private access to in Booty Bay. Here, the privileged were men and women met with few laws to govern them, where the best gambles payed off and new debts began, where the best smuggling operations were arranged, and every desire could be catered to. 

But, it was also where some competition in the Underground rose, and where some of it was ended.

Beautiful pieces of flesh from every part of Azeroth were always up for the offering, and whether considered whores or "consorts" as they preferred, they were a perfect backdrop to shady deals and operations. It was the rumor of some "Siren" too, a myth or legend always changing.

"She's a bloody Naga, I tell you," a pirate insisted, coat to small for his girth but wearing his weight in pilfered luxury. "Don't mean I won't find 'er in my bed tonight and make 'er hiss my name b'fore I give 'er the pointy end! In ALL the ways! Ahahaha!" His mates raised their mugs to him with hoots of agreement.

A she-goblin swashbuckler sort looked unimpressed, and stood up on the table to call the pirate out. "Riiiight. Ya'all think the same with yer naughty bits. I'm gonna enlighten ya and tell you The Siren's a damn drink that's so rare cuz nobody in this fluffed up piece of shit knows what a REAL drink is! That's why you AINT gonna find her, you fat ass!"

The truth unbeknownst to most was that a Siren stayed in the backround like a painting none quite payed much attention to. There were prettier, livelier things vying for attention, including her own glamoured succubus that was the lure for specific targets. She would observe until it was her own time to act.

The solitary lamp that illuminated his table had long been blown out, the light replaced by a singular candle placed on the opposite side of the table, keeping his face from being seen. A chilled glass of scotch sat sweating on the bare wooden finish of his table, the pooling beneath telling of how long it had been since it was sipped from. One leg crossed over the other, his boot gently flicked off dirt with every slight bounce, falling on top of a beg resting just below it. The common rabble didn't hold his crimson eyed attention, it was focused on the man that sat precariously near the lit flame.

" The deed is done, Novak; the bag is trophy of the job done well. I expect my compensation to be comparable to what this one offered to keep his head in exchange for yours." The man shifted slightly before the face of the hidden man, telling how off put he was to hear this." It's good enough. Besides, I thought ye' never accepted bribes or counter offers when it comes to a job--'

The hidden man's eyes flashed slightly before a thin line appeared on his client's face, blood slowly trickling down his cheek. " Do not repeat my rules to me, Novak; they are set in stone when I find the client to be one desirable. You are by far less than desirable; I would sooner enjoy licking the heel of a ferrier's boot than to do business with you. However, I need the coin and the information you have for me; do not believe my rules will save you if your name were uttered from another client's lips."

 The client veered back slightly from the candlelight, wiping at the sting on his cheek. Some caution filled the smuggler's eyes as his fingers drew back blood, reaching immediately for a few fat pouches of coin that made satisfying little thumps on the table. Compensation offered, and then some. " 'Ey now," he chuckled nervously, revealing a yellow, snaggle-toothed smile. "I 'ppreciate ye. The gold's all yers. Scum o' the earth, that one was. Makin' me life hard. But lookit you, makin' good on 'is promises. We can be frens, aye? Business wit' ol' Novak ain't so bad. As for yer info, I'm a very informed man...”

He'd lick his lips once, eyes dropping to the glass of scotch as he leaned back into the candlelight, lowering his voice conspiratorily. "Yer lookin' inta the slavery thing, aye? Yeah, the Pearl here's a part. The most lucrative smugglin's invested in live bodies. Prisoners of war, ransoms, arena fighters, pirates, mercenaries, prostitution. Most've the 'investments' already lookin' for escape an' land themselves in Booty Bay. Sell themselves f'r a few promises of a better life. Or are bought. The one that holds the contracts owns the Pearl 'ere: Vermillion Shah. One of the richest moguls at this port, in fact. Untouchable, really. He's got somethin' to offer every bit've business round here. But this house of pleasure's his gem. Arrogant enough t' have it named for him. I know we not so well-off blokes like t'call him 'Vermin' in our circles, heh. And that's all what your friend here Novak knows."

A few whistles rang out around the establishment as a particular server made her rounds; Novak along with several other nearby eyes were suddenly distracted. The server walked with an air of confidence that came from more than simply being beautiful, but rather that she knew any eyes that landed on her could be wrapped around her finger, if she so willed it. On appearance alone, she seemed to play to every individual fantasy, the finger down the spine when her name was uttered.

"You'd be best pressed to talk to the "Vermin's' property, if ye need t'know more. Like Lina there," the client murmured to the assassin, titillated as the vixen seemed to meander to their own table. "Lucky you. That might happen it looks like, aye?"

Observing her glamoured succubus in approach, the Siren eased herself onto a stool at a table nearby, focusing the scope of her vicarious bond with the demon to take in every word spoken. 

A solitary finger pushed the glass of scotch toward the client, each movement calculated to keep the Assassin's visage within the shadows; no clues to his identity, no remnants of his passing. It held nothing to the Inn of Silvermoon, the chair in the corner he made his own but this den of malodorous vermin did have a somewhat primal charm. The sudden stir of patrons whistling and cat-calling the waitress caused him to glance sideways toward the woman but there wasn't time to engage in the game of flesh, not while slavery was being peddled here as if it was wine.

"You are no friend, merely a client Novak; do not blend lines in hope of earning clemency from me." His form shifted slightly as the woman drew near their table, pulling more of his form into the shadows save for the singular bouncing boot shrugging dirt from it. A singular hand gestured to Novak to make his order before pulling the bags of coin close to him, jingling them before him as if to count them merely by listening. 

" I'll cover it, order what you wish though might I suggest things you would enjoy as a last meal... Food for thought, perhaps." Crimson hues glanced toward the woman, mildly confused by the level of 'perfection' she held in her form. It was rather unsettling to actually take the sight of her in; seemingly pulled from the dark fantasies of the mind, she was too... Perfect, too chiseled to an exact form to stir the loins of both man and woman alike. She was unsettling though the Assassin's client seemed all too enthralled with the woman to notice how unblemished the woman was...

 There was no way she was a slave, something was amiss...

A perfect monster, leaning now at the table, and one Novak took the hand of to kiss. “Liiiiina,” the smuggler purred out, and breathing her in all at once. Envious eyes were on the table, on the predator pretending to be something less, on Novak, on the man in shadow. Too much attention. The client knew it, and suddenly became miles more comfortable in his situation. He grinned hard at the assassin as he welcomed the monster to take her seat on his lap.

“I’ve gotta feeling things’ll be right alright for me, mate. It’s just a shame y’don’t want t’be friends. Isn’t that a shame, Lina love?” Novak took the scotch up in hand, downed it, exhaled with some disappointment. “Thought I had meself a new partner here, but I’m getting the feeling he doesn’t much like me. Mr Shadow-Man here hurts me feelings.”

The demoness tilted her head at the silhouette, eyes seeming to pierce through him. She pouted, sighing. “A shame. We’re all friends here.” 

Another conspiratorial grin from the client. “Right? Now, I gave our not-friend what he wanted, so I’ll guess our business is through. But I’m doing our not-friend a favor and introducing him to you!” There was a shared glance between the smuggler and the monster on his lap, some code that began to sign an unspoken agreement that the Warlock hidden away understood. Turning again to the Assassin, Novak would wink, and shift out from under Lina, to let her sit alone now in unknown company. “Every man can use some friends, aye?”

He gave a final toast of that empty scotch glass, a farewell to his ‘friend’, under all the assumption the Assassin would not be seen or heard from again. Business would continue as always, he surmised. Novak had a shipment of new ‘product’ to unload for Vermillion Shah to sample, fresh new young things needing to be broken.

Meanwhile, the exotic creature at the table situated herself dominantly on her chair, attention cutting through the Assassin like a scalpel. “Someone not looking for friends does not end up in the Vermillion Pearl, sweetness.” Her voice was a honey-slicked web, an inevitable lure positioned to trap the prey. “If it isn’t friends you are looking for, what is it you really want, mmn?”

Want. The way she had said it, compelling with unholy power, the way her lips worked around speech, promising ecstacy.

It was all direly wrong, and he was a target.

It took everything within him not to kill Novak right where he sat, took everything not to let out a disgusted growl from his lips. He was the kind of person the Assassin would kill for free, just on the principle that he was part of the problem that festered in this place, a greater problem that festered in the world like a wound; no rules, no manners....

-No code.-

To most he was simply an assassin that sat cloaked in shadows, not understanding more than what they couldn't see in the shadows, only saw him as a weapon for hire. But there was more to him, more to the man simply known as The Black Orchid. He watched the display between Novak and the woman he called Lina, wondered how the man kept his clothes on and not simply took what his thoughts perhaps he was owed. For all the subtlety the man thought he had, Orchid was well versed in the ways of word play and his code had made him always painfully aware of rule number one: Everyone lies.

" I have friends, though the company I carry know not the full picture of who I am. To see the full picture is to see beyond the curtain and far more intelligent beings have only succumbed to what they could not understand. As for what I want..." the man said as he shifted forward, fangs flashing a smirk of a smile as it crept from the darkness:

" What I want right now is a clean glass and for whomever Novak was really speaking towards to join us, Lina... And do not play naive or stupid, I am neither nor am I oblivious to where that man's alliances lie, where nearly all the beings in this bar truly lie. One does not go into a wolves den without first understanding the danger within it."

Lina’s eyes narrowed, her smile vicious and red as she glimpsed the fanged mouth grin for her within its obscuring silhouette. The hellion seemed to rock forward to speak as well, but froze midway, those predatorial eyes veering off, as if silently instructed otherwise. “Hmph.” She simply growled the sound out, and rose from the seat made for her, meandering away from the Assassin’s table. 

Time passed, attention slid away from his table and its empty seat from the other patrons as they lost interest in the small ‘show’ the demon had left in her wake. She sought out a new meal for the evening, easily seducing another to retreat to the privacy of a cabin in the Pearl. It seemed for the moment he was left to his own devices, his own strategies, the payments of confirmed gold pieces still awaiting to be secured.

 It was only when no eyes remained on his table that another voice spoke up from another seat nearby, where the assassin had been observed. “You have your payment, and our gratitude for the kill.” An even, feminine voice, impersonal. Moving from her seat, the slender frame came into the candlelight, illuminating the smooth compilation of a black silk suit, a provocative cut of the top leaving a low cut ‘v’ of flesh down between her breasts. A clean shot glass was carefully placed at his table per the request, the other hand supplying a half bottle of the special brand scotch the assassin had chosen for the night. She did not sit in the chair, face remaining just out of the reach of the dwindling candlelight as she lingered there. “You should take your drink, and leave on the next boat out of this place, if you mean to leave this place at all alive. Consider it a final kindness for clean business.”

The man's eyebrow crooked slightly as Lina moved away from the table, a cautionary glance as her response told more than her disgruntled hmph did. The voice pulled his attention back to his shadows, believing he ventured too far out from them, receding back until only his legs were exposed to the light. Her voice caused his crimson hues to lift toward her form, watched as she placed the glass and scotch on the table. This one was different from Lina, perhaps the real being that pulled the loyalty of the men in this place.

Her words seemed more a threat than a cautionary warning, causing him to chuckle dryly." Final kindness she says, cautionary tales to save my own skin while I still can. My apologies, little Sparrow, but this one cannot leave until my mission is fulfilled. Wouldn't have much of a reputation if I turned tail because things might get a bit sketchy," he said as he slowly poured himself a glass of scotch, his voice warm and deep much like it. "I do appreciate the warnings but my code cannot allow me to leave, I do hope you understand. I'm sure that a far more intelligent man would heed your message and fly but alas, I've never been considered a most intelligent man; simply lucky, well trained and not willing to die."

The noise of the tavern grew louder as the Assassin’s table grew forgotten, patrons going about their own interests. A particular card game had run awry, and sprung into a fight of accusers, at last convinced to settle their outrage in the fight club on the floor below. It was drawing its crowd of bets, jeers and insults. 

For a moment, the figure at his table seemed to be taking her survey of the Pearl, then the sliver of flesh at her chest heaved in a quiet sigh. She’d claim the empty seat decisively, moving the swathe of her long, black hair away as to not sit on it. She courted the petite delicacy of most of the Sin’dorei with her long ears and angled face, but free from embellishments or accentuating make-up. It was a face like any other female elf, forgettable, save for the opaque green eyes that held no shine or glow. Lifeless eyes in a face that did not smile, eyes that did not seem too far interested in what the shadows hid that obscured the Assassin. It was his voice that she concentrated on, the warm courtesy of it an irony to the cold, profane nature of most that came to Booty Bay.

“Little Sparrow,” she scoffed at the title he gave her, “That is a new one.” Fingers moved idly to the base of the candle, situating its light closer to her. “You seem smart enough to understand that Lina was more disturbing than attractive, but not smart enough to avoid getting on Novak’s bad side. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he is speaking to the next assassin, putting a mark on you, and any travel plans you have.” She delivered these words smoothly, matter-of-factly. “He has a code too, and it is written in the language of business, and you made it fairly clear you don't like it or him. And that one has never taken rejection well. Even if he can't kill you, he'll make sure to make your life a hell."

Raising his hand to stifle a chuckle, the shadow caressed man couldn't help but laugh as she explained his current situation with Novak. It wasn't a chuckle of humor but one more out of inevitably and surety that the shifty man had already contacted more than one rival assassin to take him out. " I would expect nothing less of a man without honor save from what can be garnered from coin but like fickle loyalty, it too falls from our hands effortlessly." His crimson hues dimmed slightly with the thought, as if alliances of old clung to old memories akin to puss on a wound.

" Business is business but as you speak, it has become personal to him and in that moment, it was effectively bad business. Personal matters and business have no place together as if will only cause the utter downfall of the one enacting on impulse rather than logical rationale. But from what I've seen, the only thing in that one's eyes is the impulsive nature of ravishing your...Friend." Leather bound hands gripped the inside of the glove, causing it to creak softly, causing his eyes to raise back toward the woman before him, if she were a woman at all.

" However, in all of this, you seem to be of business which only offers the question: why give me this information, for free of all things? Or is this the part of the conversation where you give me an offer I can't refuse as I would never make it to the door."

“There is more to Novak than sex,” the Siren spoke rather bluntly, glancing away from the table with a hard smile. “Well. Not much more, but some.” The simple curve added some semblance of life to the distant face, but that echo of life was fleeting, lips returning to their default solemn stone as she continued to murmur through them. “There is power. For a man that had nothing to so quickly have everything, everything is about power, leverage. It is an addiction that won’t quit. Just as it is for the one this ‘lovely’ little establishment is named for. As it will be for the one that takes their place, when they meet the finality of their own ends. It is an endless cycle, as it is for the ones shoved under their rule, the...resources...the possessions. But it is a system. Topple down the main cogs of that system, and the system comes crashing down on the shoulders of the victim, the destitute, and the abused, and those belonging to no kingdom or country. Even the most impersonal business has its investments that should be kept safe. Maybe I say what I do in attempt to reach an understanding? I am a monster, but I am not a creature that is closed to reason.”

Her eyes returned to the Silhouette across from her, hand rising up onto the table to perch her chin upon. Lifeless as those jade stone eyes were, she had an unblinking stare that seemed to arrest past the flesh, a cold-burn delivered to the soul. “You...though. Can you even say you are not mixing the personal with the business of murder?” A small, knowing smile perked at her lips, her near empty monotone lifting slightly with a trace of curiosity. “It takes a certain rage to sever a head with mere daggers, I am sure. And this when all that had been needed was a finger, or an eye from Novak’s contact. I don’t think any of this is a simple job for you, a simple matter of greed. Or you would have stepped up to Novak’s offer for continued business. If not to kill, and not to indulge, what *are* you here for…?”

 Curious, curious, she began to wonder at this shadow of a man...and wonder how long it would take the sedative in his drink to finally shut him down.

A singular hand moved to touch his temple, rubbing circles as his eyes blurred for a moment, a hint of panic forcing the crimson hues to spark erratically. For one like Novak to have a woman such as she in his employ, either she was forced due to him having leverage against her or perhaps it was merely the thrill brought about by her pet. A small light pulsed within his lapel, a whisper slipped out as a small needle pressed against his neck, injecting an odd liquid into his veins.

His crimson hues ceased their erratic sparking, instead flaring slightly as they refocused on the woman, his hand returning to rest against his crossed leg. He could feel the effects still swirling in his veins but to subtly show a tell, he took up the glass once more and drank another sip from it." Do you know what I'm called, Love? Has Novak spilled what secrets he knows of me or at least, what he thinks he knows of me? Did he tell you what my fee was or how the coin given wasn't what I desired? I doubt it as I seem like a mere assassin that hides his face away from the light."

" You say that my sin is that of Greed and accuse me of mixing personal and business... I know of what my sin is and I own it every time I take a life and remove emotion from the equation. I am wrath but the wrath is not my own; the wrath is of each person subjected to the torture and malodorous actions of a being thinking himself a god."

His gloves tightened as a vial seemingly appeared out of thin air into his hand, held into the light like a single ray of starlight. The Black Orchid held no words out for the woman, only the uncertainty of what he held in his hand and what he had already done with the other half of the empty vial.

“Apparently a little more than the common assassin, yes…” the Siren trailed off with a soft, quizzical tone, her eyes fixed on the mysterious little vial the man had emptied into his system.

Those jade eyes then strayed to the red lights that were his own, lingering quietly on the compelling nature of his words. “Definitely making things difficult.”

The corner of her lips twitched to a hard smile again, somewhere between bemusement and annoyance. “So wrath guides you then. Brings you to this place….where you...what? Hope to put out the fire of what haunts you with a blade in a ‘god’s’ eye? I can only imagine you’re pulled every which way on the map then. Because the tormented are everywhere, in fact. As are the little villains that would name themselves gods. But gods are a replaceable role. You might as well call the tides to drown the world as we know it, and pay the price of putting out all life to quench the rage against every wrong they do, and will continue to do. But this place...this little...heh...den of debauchery? It keeps the devils and their horrible ‘gods’ from your cleaner corners of the world. The tortured here earn their sentence, or they would have found their way out long ago.”

The intensity of her whisper and unblinking stare on his crimson sights told that she believed every word that she had said, this bleak perception of the world, a bleakness she was forced to subsist on. She stole her gaze away from him, this assassin that claimed to be more, shaking her head as she considered ending her visit there with a rise from her seat. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you aim for either a messy kill, or your own messy death. And both would be rather meaningless in the long haul of things.”

The small vial was placed on the table between them, left to glisten in the light. She twisted his words, attempted to glean his ideals and desires from every syllable used; she was a fearsome adversary in this game of words." That's what I do, enjoy making things difficult for all manner of beings who prey on those weaker than them simply because they can. And yes, there are tormented everywhere, which is why I am of a neutral sort who works in every border this world has attempted to place. No matter the race or faction, injustice is injustice and however pitiful of a reason that is for you, it is one that hits far too close to home for myself."

A small breadcrumb of a loaf kept out of view, just enough in hopes of her at least understanding why he was there. A soft chuckle came from his fanged mouth, a flick of his tongue across pearl white teeth." I am here because devils and so called gods should have no safe haven, no den of debauchery to feel safe as their victims have none either. They respect nor have mercy for another so I merely even the playing field, offer a balance to the status quo they seek to protect."

" Perhaps I am for both, broken Sparrow; perhaps I aim to die messy and loud while I kill gods messy. Meaningless says you. But with my death, one life is saved. With their deaths? Many more are saved from the same fate and in that, shakes the very foundations of -their- world."

Only when the small vial left the black glove did the Siren choose to reach for it, gently taking it between her fingers. Briefly she examined it with her eyes, her gaze flitting back with a persistance toward the Assassin with each word spoken, and the way his teeth broke the shadow in its smile. It caused the faintest sign of amusement in the woman, a silent snicker that stopped in her bosom, breathed through the nose. She took the kernel of insight into this assassin's code as she had taken that glass vial, her fingertips pressing into it. "You are here to take this haven from them? But you are right, there is no safe place in this world. Not that they understand. Most think money is their shield."

She leaned back in toward the table, palms pressing into its surface, the candlelight dancing its color across the pour of her ebon hair down her shoulders. "If you take this illusion of safety from them, you take the way by which the monsters feed on the them." She held his eyes once more, offering her own crumb of insight into who she was, and her own agenda. "There may be broken Sparrows here, Shadow, but I am not one of them." The strange compulsion to speak with him, whether by the mysterious charm or the desire to hear his voice in reply caught up with her, her brow creasing as she hesitated. She was saying too much. She lifted her arms from the table, crossing them now over her chest, but did not seem willing to vacate just yet.

"A messy Shadow then, headed for a mess. You must be more than a Shadow, still, yes? Do you not have a mate to go to? A child to rear? A life to be living? At least go live one more day in it before you make your final sacrifice."

" Their haven? Oh my dear, you think too small.." It wasn't meant as a condescension but more of a morsel of understanding dangled out before a hungry predator. He didn't place comment upon her words of illusions and safety, merely listened to her speak of the supposed happenstance of what was to happen. But as she spoke of him, a muffled "ha" came from his lips as she attempted to speak of who he was and what he had.

" We all have our masks to wear, my dearie, but which is the mask and which is whom we really are? Am I a man wearing the mask of a Shadow or is the opposite true? Do I have a family waiting for me or are these Sparrows the only semblance of a family I have? Do they have one more day? The answer is no but to which question it answers, we will have to save for another time." Curiously his eyes moved away from the woman, staring toward a door that Novak walked into with this woman's "pet".

" I believe its almost time for the curtain to fall on this fateful meeting.."

The Siren did not have the moment to digest the words this assassin gave her, following the shift of his sights to the door. A strand of concern psychically transferred from demon to mistress had the woman standing at alarm, cutting a soft curse between her teeth as she left the table.

Novak had only just passed the doorway before he'd collapsed, twitching out the last moments of his life on the plush carpet of the room. The succubus quickly retreated back to her glamoured form, a finger tapping at her lip with faux innocence. "I think we've been had, my love." An amused grin was on her lips. "Or was this the plan all along? Where is your Shadow-Man?"

The Warlock shot her demon a scathing look. "Stop it and help me get this cleaned up. We have explaining to do. Now is not the time to think about...about Shadows."

[stabbylambchop]

I was trying to hold this in, bc I felt like as a very petite person myself, that I was too "privileged" to say anything about this without looking like I was somehow trying to dig at fat people, or undermine the fight against fatphobia or whatever. I struggle so so much with all this, but feel like that venting would seem selfish or ignorant. But I'm. Seriously at my fucking limit.

If you think that skinny people are never shamed, bullied, body-policed, bullied, then I'm here to say, yes, we are.

Besides the previously mentioned issue with eating disorders, there are so many other factors to consider; genetics, chronic illness and disability, temporary illness with long-term damage, domestic abuse in the form of withholding food, certain medication or treatments, pressure towards people in sports modeling acting etc etc etc (just look at people dehydrating themselves so they look cut), mental illness or neurodivergencies that hampers someone's ability to take care of themselves...the list goes on.

I was born premature and have been anemic since day one, because my body actually cannot absorb everything it needs to. I grew up with divorced parents, with a father that periodically made fun of me for "eating like a bird", a mother who was never around, and a step-dad who was just overall a horrible person.

I never grew past 12. No exaggeration. It's due to more genetic bullshit, possibly a form of "proportionate" dwarfism, so it's not obvious to strangers that I'm a grown little person with the typical features. Being a full-grown adult, who is 4'9" and 85lbs soaking wet, and honestly fairly flat-chested, means that literally. Every. Single. Person, that doesn't know me, looks at me, and they see a child. None of the "oh just gonna ID you as a formality, you just look a little younger", no it's always "wow, really...? No joke? For real..??", or "how old are you, why are you here and not in school right now, if you're not lying I can call on you for truancy", or "oh wow I thought a 12yr-old got a hold of the ID-check stamp pad for a second haha". And even once they know, it's like they never really accept it, and still treat me like a child.

I've been bullied, a lot. People playing keep-away with my things, new teachers thinking I'm in the wrong class and that first impression leading to a semester of communal judgement, always being compared to more "appropriately developed" girls my age. For my senior project presentation, the judges left notes like "immature".

Always being handed the kid's menu when everyone else at the table gets an alcohol menu. Having no less then 2-3 people check my ID, just to be safe, of course, when I correct the server and ask for a drink. Going to bars or casinos or adult shops and having someone put an arm in my way while the rest of the group went in no problem, because they think I was trying to sneak in with them. Trying to see an R rated movie. Trying to buy age appropriate clothes but the only stuff that fits is in the kids section. People making whispered comments about how my parents MUST be starving me, or how I might have an ED.

Besides my anemia and stature/growth problems, I grew up in a poor household. I've been homeless. I have several mental and physical illnesses and disabilities that make gaining or maintaining weight an uphill battle. Since getting sick, I've lost most of my muscle, which weighs more than fat. My body is currently not processing fat well, if at all, which means it's going right thru me. I was told that my bowel issues are because of my size (yes, really), because while my organs tried to grow up, my musculoskeletal system lagged behind, and everything is just kinda fucked (which might be achondroplasia, but I've been focusing on other medical shit first and just haven't really had that talk yet).

And to top it all off, OCD, PTSD, and Autism can (and have) affected my eating habits, especially with my cramped neck region and texture issues causing an overly sensitive gag reflex. My teeth are also victims of my other bullshit. My teeth are super cramped and we don't have the money to pull my wisdom teeth. Being poor and homeless meant dental health and general really took a hit. Sometimes, my teeth or jaw hurt, or my nerves flare up, or my illnesses cause sudden vertigo and nausea. Some days, it's just plain hard to eat.

I know this was a long, personal, strong rant, but this is how bad I, and a lot of other thin people, can really have it. We didn't choose any of this, and have no control over it.

I want everyone that reads this, no matter their weight or health, to read this and really, truly take it all in. As absolutely disgusting as fatphobia and fatshaming are, using it as an excuse to damn all skinny people? That can be just as disgusting. We aren't "thicc" or "big tiddy goth girlfriend", or a "milf". A lot of us have never felt adult or beautiful or attractive in their lives. I still feel shame around my wife, who is such a lovely person, for feeling like I can never be hot or sexy hot them, or because yet another person thought I was their child and not their partner.

In regards to the original post, and my addition, it mostly started awhile ago, when a mutual starting tagging things with shit like "skinny people die fr" or "skinny people are useless" (paraphrasing a bit, I didn't want to bother screenshotting then). Seeing that shit hurt me to my core and made me feel ashamed for just. Existing. For the first time in ages, I started gaining weight, quickly. Because I was subconsciously so hurt that I started eating past feeling full, straight to stomach pain and nausea. I've since last everything I gained, mostly because I've recently had such bad digestive issues. I'm so dehydrated.

I soft-blocked because I was scared of conflict or them somehow finding out. However, after some time, I finally had enough of seeing them in my notifications and blocked them for good. I couldn't see their url without feeling that same hot shame washing over me.

Did it help me feel better? Not really. But it's still one more little roadblock from having to get reminded over and over again.

You may think it's progressive or woke or whatever to say shit like that, because we're all just vain, privileged, attractive people, right?

I am begging you all, please, don't say shit like this anymore. You can't possibly know when a certain content will really hurt someone in a very, very bad way.

And no. There is no "okay but what about regular ski-" no. Fucking no. Just stop. Besides making assumptions, it's just not healthy to be like that. Telling anyone to die is pretty fucked as it is. And yet it gets a pass most of the time because it comes off as woke or casual, but that just perpetuates it all.

I'm so tired. So fucking tired. And depressed. And just.. overall done with it all. If this makes me an asshole or toxic to you, then okay, whatever, unfollow me and block me if you need to, even if we're mutuals. I just can't take one more fucking thing happening, one more thing hurting me. There is nothing that could be said or done to me that would matter.

Please. Please just. Try. Just a little.

Listen, I gotta be honest because I keep seeing this on my feed back and forth on my main and here when I browse blogs:

When people say shit like 'skinny people are cringe' or 'skinny people are not welcome' or anything along those lines, in the hopes to boost fat/large body positivity, you are the problem.

You are literally what is going to cause so much more body dysphoria then you realize. A lot of times, as we already know, people can't control their body shape and size! Sitting there and blasting folks who are slender, lithe, skinny, etc is not the answer. You don't know who is now recovering from an ED or who is literally so sick beyond just a normal everyday illness that they have no control over their weight or body image.

This is coming from someone who IS fat and chunky and already has body dysphoria because of it. Someone who HAS resorted to eating disorders to try and solve things and is recovering. Someone who has a wife who constantly is so sick that she can't retain anything from food to properly nourish her body and be able to gain weight like everyone else.

So please stop putting shit like that in your tags and stop putting shit like that into posts. You don't know who you're hurting when you say that kind of body shaming talk. I'm all about body positivity, but can't everyone's body be positive for a change? This isn't a competition, this is trying to survive in this fucked up world for once.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

Curvy Woman Says Hooters-Like Pub Didn't Hire Her Because Plaid Bra, Kilt Wouldn't Fit

One woman claims she was not hired at a Texas pub because of her weight.

Sarah Brady of Houston, Texas, applied for a bartending job at a new Tilted Kilt location opening in League City. She claims that after she was called in for an interview at the Celtic-themed sports pub — that is known for its scantily clad female servers — the restaurant turned her away upon arrival, without an interview. Brady believes it was because of her appearance.

Sarah Brady claims she was not hired by the Tilted Kilt pub because of her size. (Photo: P. D. Murphy)

“When I got there they had me fill out an application and had me sit there for 30 minutes,” she tells Yahoo Style. “They were taking a girl back to interview and had another girl that also interviewed, who was back there for around 20 minutes. Then they brought me back, had me sit down, and the first thing they said was, ‘Thank you for coming in and applying, but we’ve already filled all the positions with more experienced candidates.’ That was it.”

Disappointed to not have the opportunity to interview with the employer, she asked a member of the management at the front of the restaurant for more clarity.

“I walked out, and I asked the girl in the front, ‘Is the reason I’m not getting this job because I’m plus-sized?’ She paused and said, ‘Well, even I didn’t get the Tilted Kilt Girl [job] because I don’t fit the costume. I don’t fit what they’re looking for.’ Not saying anything about experience or qualifications — that’s what she said.”

Brady also claims that another staff member told the group of applicants upon arrival that the sports pub was looking to hire 30 to 40 people for the entire store. She says that even after she was turned away, Brady believes four other women she was waiting with were then interviewed.

She insists that she should’ve been interviewed based on her qualifications. “I understand that they have an image that they want to present and that they want to show, but if I have the confidence to go in and try to get an interview and try to get the job — knowing what the costume is — then there’s no reason that it should be an issue,” Brady shares.

In a Facebook post, Brady expressed her outrage at the incident and clarified a comment she made during an interview with KPRC.

“Boom. Let the hate mail and fat shaming start,” she wrote in the Facebook post. “The sound bite of ‘real women’ — I was talking about the women in the ads. We all know they are photoshopped. I am sorry if I was not clear enough with my thoughts on that. But they got a great sound bite from it. I feel if you think/believe you are a women, you are — regardless of your size. If you are cis or trans, you are a women, and you should own your body. Every body is important.”

While Brady’s post was met with many supporters, it was also met with comments from users who didn’t agree with her decision to apply to the sports bar.

On the comments, Brady wasn’t surprised.

“I knew that it was going to happen,” she shares with Yahoo Style. “I knew that I was going to get a lot of inappropriate things said to me. I made the post public because I would rather have them post publicly where everyone can see it than inbox me privately. They’re just perpetuating the standard that magazines and advertising have of Photoshopped women.”

The Titled Kilt is known for employing slim, fit women, and many commenters felt Brady did not fit the profile. The sports pub often posts photos of its servers on its Instagram channel.

#Repost @tiltedkiltschaumburg ・・・ ???????????????? #babesofinstagram #prettygirls #three #tiltedkilt #girls #happy #fun #cindi #jen #ewelina #schaumburg @serverbeauties Come visit us!!!!

A post shared by Tilted Kilt Pub & Eatery (@tiltedkiltpub) on Apr 17, 2017 at 8:24pm PDT

It's always fun Friday here! But what about Saturday? Join us for the semifinals tomorrow at 6:09 PM ET. #MarchMadness #NCAA #finalfour ????

A post shared by Tilted Kilt Pub & Eatery (@tiltedkiltpub) on Mar 31, 2017 at 10:09am PDT

Sounds like a great day for #tkfrederick @tiltedkiltfrederick #repost ???????????? ・・・ TK Frederick: Perfect day to come sit on the patio! Happy hour 3-7pm – All 20oz drafts $4.00. $12 NY Strip steak with Mash or Fries. Washington Nationals vs St. Louis Cardinals at 7pm #gettilted

A post shared by Tilted Kilt Pub & Eatery (@tiltedkiltpub) on Apr 10, 2017 at 11:06am PDT

On the women typically employed in bartending and server positions at the eatery, Brady shared, “All women are beautiful, and I understand that some people naturally have the metabolism to stay that small — and some people don’t. I personally will never be that small. Even when I was at the height of my eating disorder — where I was eating probably four times a week — I still probably wouldn’t fit into the costume because my hips were too big and I wasn’t busty enough. Because I am a pear shape. When my eating disorder was really the worst, I was still a pear shape. So if you can naturally be that shape, that’s awesome. But there’s a lot of the population who aren’t like that.”

Brady says she wants to bring attention to the incident because of the way she feels she was treated.

“How they handled the situation was really inappropriate,” she tells Yahoo Style. “It’s disgusting that they wouldn’t give me the same opportunities. They could’ve done my interview and made me think I was getting the job — and I would’ve been none the wiser. But they said we’ve filled all the positions and then interviewed four girls after me.”

Tilted Kilt representative Gregory Smith provided the following statement to Yahoo Style on not hiring Brady:

“Our hiring and employment practices are in full compliance with all laws. Kilt Girls are the cornerstone of our brand. We specifically cast for entertainers, not just servers. When hiring, we seek entertainer-servers who not only fit the costume, but exemplify a personality and skillset that is friendly, courteous and customer-oriented. Based on these qualifications and Sarah Brady’s lack of experience in the restaurant service industry, we hired the most qualified applicants and she was not offered the position.”

The company also claims Brady’s resume does not reflect any food service experience.  

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