So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny girl, I’m getting extra, extra tired of fat-shaming.
I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”
I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.
The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”
Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.
The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”
I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.
Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.
It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.
I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.
She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)
We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?
My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.
So actually, screw you, random dude. Fat girls are the highlight of my job.
“I’m floored by the technology of the Switch, and the
versatility of the console is second to none. It really is a
home console that you can take anywhere. I’ve seen situations where
home consoles can be transported, and it’s like a big over-the-shoulder
carry-on bag, but the versatility of this thing is groundbreaking. When
you un-dock the Switch from its home console and go into handheld, the
controller feels the same, it is the same, and it reacts the same. The
screen on the un-docked handheld system is big enough to be its own
world, but small enough to carry anywhere.
I was in this confined living room space where you got
lost in the game ‘cause I’m playing on this 60-inch TV, and then you
un-dock and continue to play the game. They had this
molecular glass, which dropped and revealed I was in the middle of the
desert. I never once knew the change in environment. It’s truly, truly
tremendous. In typical Nintendo fashion, I was playing Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Now I haven’t played Legend of Zelda since
the gold cartridge eight-bit versions, so I just needed to pick up and
start going, and I did. The go-anywhere aspect of the game is
incredible, and I know for fans of the Zelda franchise, they’re
going to flip. I know for fans of Nintendo, they’re going to go crazy.
Everyone is speculating about how good the game actually is—it’s going
to exceed expectations and, for a dude like me, a 40-year-old [in April]
who hasn’t played Zelda since the gold cartridge, I sat down and was hooked. In a matter of 30-minutes, I didn’t want to put it down.”
said John Cena, WWE wrester
Recently I’ve been looking into buying one of these, the Rossi Circuit Judge. Most of my interests having been in antiques, replicas of antiques, and muzzleloaders. However, it would be nice to have one modern firearm and I have been looking into this as a nifty all purpose firearm as an alternative to muzzleloaders, like in instances where muzzleloaders wouldn’t work like poor weather or really rough terrain where I wouldn’t want to lug a 60 inch musket. Plus it would be fun for plinking.
The Taurus Rossi Circuit Judge is a five shot revolving long arm chambered for .45 colt/.410 shotshells. I say it is an all purpose firearm because it being able to fire regular cartridges and shotshells. In .45 colt it would be a good short to mid range deer rifle, in .410 shotshell good for small game. It is light and versatile, plus the idea of a revolving rifle appeals to me, a concept going back to the mid 19th century that never really caught on. I’m going to buy one.
A/N: Its late as all hell but shit…its here. Please enjoy the second part of Caught. Love you guys
“Lahey!” Y/N marched into the livingroom where Isaac sat perched at the edge of the sofa watching a football game “We need to talk.”
“About?” He asked uninterested, never taking his eyes away from the TV.
“You know…” Her words trail off in hopes he’d figure it out.
“No, I don’t.” Isaac lied. Y/N walked over to where Isaac lounged, snatching the remote from his hand she turned off the 60 inch flat screen and stood in front of it, gaining his full and undivided attention.
“3 days ago you came home from work a bit early and…”
“Ate you out like it was my last meal?” Isaac smirked raking his eyes up and down her body “Yeah, I’m starting to recall.” Her outfit was simple enough. One of his shirts fitting her like an oversized dress, stopping at her mid thigh and shorts, and yet he was hard. Isaac firmly believed she wore his clothes better than he ever could, and his cock agreed.
“Yeah? Well that won’t be happening again…ever again.”
‘Like hell it won’t’ Isaac thought glaring up at Y/N “And might I ask why? And I know it’s not because of a bad performance.”
“I have a boyfriend.” Y/N blurted.
A tense few seconds of silence ensued before Isaac spoke again. “Come again.” He had to have heard her wrong. Y/N, his Y/N had a boyfriend. “Break up with him.” He demanded. Isaac wasn’t sure where this overwhelming possessiveness was coming from. He’d never considered himself the jealous type. He’d passed a fair share of his conquest down to his friends, but it was different where Y/N was concerned.
“No?” Y/N wasn’t able to put the proper amount of distance between herself and Isaac so that he became nonthreatening. He’d pulled down so that she was pinned beneath him in what seemed to Y/N in an instant. “Break. Up. With. Him.” Isaac hissed.
Isaac sat on the couch watching the door. He could hear the jingle of Y/N’s keys as she tried to get into the apartment. For three days, three whole fucking days she was MIA. After their fight, she’d managed to get away He was ready to pounce when an unfamiliar man walked.
“You must be Isaac!” He damn near squealed upon seeing Isaac “I’m Kris Y/N’s boyfriend. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Isaac struggled not to growl. This was the infamous boyfriend? Isaac didn’t think Kris was Y/N’s type. He was a little too bubbly and airheaded. Not too mention Kris looked like one of the saps that would stroke his lover’s hair, whispering sweet nothings as he “made love” to his partner. His Y/N liked it rough. Biting, scratching, choking, spanking: That’s what she liked. What she yearned for.
“Aren’t you gonna say ‘hi’, Lahey?” Y/N emerged from behind Kris.
Isaac had planned to give Y/N the cold shoulder making it known that he was pissed, until he laid eyes on her. Y/N had never been one to dress up…for anything. Her wardrobe consisted of sweatshirt, leggings, T-shirts, and jeans. Isaac was positive she didn’t own a skirt, much less a dress. But sure enough there she was, standing in a short bright yellow sundress. If Kris wasn’t there he’d have surely ripped it off her body like some sort of animal. For that, Isaac was almost grateful. It would’ve been ashame if he’d torn to shreds perhaps the only dress Y/N owned, not to mention she looked absolutely ravishing in it.
A strange look spread across Isaac’s face; one that scared Y/N. He looked like some sort of sex starved predator. He made no effort to hide the tent that was forming in his sweatpants, or his eyes from roaming Y/N’s body. She shifted uncomfortably. The dress didn’t seem so short before, but now she was trying to tug it down. Y/N quickly ushered Kris into the kitchen, praying he didn’t notice Isaac semi erection.
“I’ll be right back, babe.” Y/N said “I have to talk to Isaac.”
Isaac stood and walked silently to the bathroom (there place of gathering when privacy was needed from guest). He waited until Y/N followed im to close and lock the door behind them.
“What the hell is your problem?” She whispered. Being annoyed, Y/N made the mistake of shoving him against the wall. “You’re being a fucking asshole.” She hadn’t realized the danger she’d put herself in.
Isaac responded by lifting Y/N onto the sink, and lacing his hand on her throat he gave her a firm squeeze. Not enough to restrict her airflow, but just enough to send a warning. The other he placed on her thigh digging his claws into the soft flesh. He breathed in familiar scent of her arousal, smirking at the realization that she was enjoying this. Y/N was enjoying him being rough with her, as he knew she would.
“You are soo fucking disrespectful.” Isaac growled. Reaching under the dress he tore away her panties causing a loud cry to escape her lips “Careful now Y/N, we don’t want Kris to hear us, do we? Do we? She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.” Taking his hand away from her throat, Isaac was able to pull down his sweatpants revealing his swollen angry cock. Y/N stared down at it in a mixture of awe and terror.
“Isaac wait.” She pleaded. Kris is still here
“I can’t.” Isaac sank to his knees, taking in Y/N her scent and the sight of her wet folds he gave her clit a firm like “I’ve barely touch you, and look how wet you are, sweetheart.”
“Fuck Isaac.” Y/N whined. Tangling her hands in his curly hair she pulled him closer grinding her pussy into his face.
Right as she approached her peak Isaac pulled away, wiping her juices off his face, and standing.
“AH- No.” She cried reaching out for him, but he’d moved just out of her grasp “I need…”
“You need what?” He asked. “You need to cum?”
“Yes, please.” She moaned
“Tell me you won’t see him again, and I’ll let you cum.” With his arms folded across his chest, he smiled down at her mischievously. Y/N wouldn’t say no to him. “Promise me.”
“I won’t see him again! I promised”
“Tell me you want me to cum on my cock.”
“I want to cum on your cock, so bad Isaac. Now fuck me!”
In one swift motion Isaac plowed into Y/N. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and dug her fingers into his shoulders. Isaac gave her a second to adjust before picking her up from the sink and pushing her against the door.
He repeatedly slammed into Y/N, enticing loud cries of pain and pleasure. Loud enough for her dick of a boyfriend to hear and come running. From outside the bathroom a loud banging could be heard as well as the smacking sound of flesh colliding, Y/N sopping pussy, and a mixture of her cries and Isaac’s groans.
“He’ll never fuck you like can. Do you understand me?” Y/N was unable to answer being that her she was too focused on reaching her climax “Answer me or I’ll stop!”
“No.” Y/N whimpered as Isaac’s pace began to slow “Please don’t stop.”
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
“He can’t f- AHH” Isaac unexpectedly slammed into her one time
“Louder!” He roared.
“He can’t fuck me like you can!”
“You’re damn right he can’t” He started jackhammering into Y/N’s pussy. The wetness from it running down thigh. Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave. A particularly loud wail fell from her lips, as she clenched and spasmed around his hard cock.
Isaac prolonged her orgasm, moving at the same pace even after Y/N came. She’d become overly sensitive and was begging Isaac to stop if only for a few seconds, but her plea fell on deaf ears. After he came then she’d have her break. He’d hold back his climax for as long as he could to punish her.
“It’s too much!”
Y/N second orgasm was quickly building as Isaac mercilessly pounded her. A well aimed thrust at her g-spot sent Y/N over the edge.
“Take it like a good girl.” He felt her cunt contract around him, trying to milk his seed. He howled (literally) as ropes of hot cum shot into her awaiting pussy.
Y/N shivered as her climax began to subside. Isaac used the door to support her weight, resting his face in the crook of her neck he began to talk between breaths.
“Think Kris heard us?” Y/N could almost see the smirk on his face.
“You’re such an ass, that was your plan all along, huh?”
“Well, jokes on you.” Y/N had a smirk of her own plastered across her face.
“And how is that?”
“Well everyone knows how incredibly insanely Isaac Lahey gets when some guy has the audacity to even look at what Isaac Lahey thinks belongs to him. I just wanted to make certain you were interested, and that was the only way I knew how. Kris was in on it too.”
“Seriously?” How could he not have seen through Y/N’s trick? Clever girl “Do you know how close I was to ripping his throat out?”
“So you think I belong to you Mr. Lahey?” She scoff
“There’s nothing to think about, sweetheart. You belong to me.”
A/N: You guys are the best! Thanks for reading, and request are still open, but not for long.
coronation of Sesostris
From left to right: - coronation of Sesostris, panel 4, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-1/8 x 97 inches, (206 x 246.5 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 8, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-½ x 97 1/8 inches, (207 x 247 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 5, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-1/8 x 61 5/8 inches, (206 x 156.5 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 7, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 79-3/8 x 60 7/8 inches, (201.5 x 154.5 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 9, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-5/8 x 61 inches, (205 x 155 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 10, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 80-5/8 x 61 3/8 inches, (207 x 156 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 3, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-1/8 x 53 ¾ inches, (206 x 136.5 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 2, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 81-¼ x 54 ¾ inches, (206.5 x 139 cm) - coronation of Sesostris, panel 6, 2000. / acrylic, crayon, and pencil on canvas 80-3/16 x 61 ¼ inches, (204 x 155.5 cm)
Better pics of the Idol of Space and Time I wore for MAGFest! Work kicked my ass, so the mask and bustier (from DMC4) are put off ‘til Katsucon, but I think I did a good improvisation of the DMC3 one! (Er…minus the titty-slip…)
The real star here, though, is the hourglass! It stands at 52 inches end to end (compared to my 60 inches), and splits into two pieces for ease of transport (I…do not). The sixteen 3-inch resin spikes bolted into the wreath make it around 20 inches wide. Each end is wired with 3+ meters of remote-controlled mini-LEDs for that extra punch. Even with all that, it’s still only around 10 pounds! (The messenger bag I carry with me all the time actually weighs more when it’s loaded.) That’s wonder of pine, posterboard, and fabric! I still might fancy it up even more for the DMC4 look at Katsucon.
Special thanks to @lithefider for the pictures and the gentle photoshoping and @snazzyskeleton for all the help with the last-minute body-painting when I was in too much pain to contort to the right angles!