and i got some free food with it even

So your bird needs medicated

And you’re not looking forward to the fighting and the manhandling that might involve. But DON’T WORRY FRIENDS. Let me show you my secret weapon:

Motherfucking BABY FOOD. The secret to smuggling medicine into your little scream child and making them think it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever given them. And also the secret to training your healthy bird to see the medicine dropper as a vehicle for treats instead of medicine. Just choose their favorite fruit or veggie in baby food form. In this house the favorites are bananas, apples, pears, and sweet potatoes. 

(I can’t find the source anymore, but make sure you don’t get the combo flavors. The idea behind this is the combo flavors have more ingredients and potentially something not good for your birds. This banana baby food only contains two ingredients: bananas and a little bit of lemon juice.)

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BTS - you feeling down.

Request: Please please do bangtan when you are feeling down and they back hug you bc of it… and well.. react to you feeling down.


Seokjin:

As always, he loves to cook for you. Especially if you’re feeling down. “Princess … How about I make some delicious food for you?” He says, and hug you from behind.

Yoongi:

“Love, why are you like this?” He asks looking at you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know, I’m just down.” “But if you’re sad, I’ll be sad too. Look at my sad face.” You laugh with the face he does.

Hoseok:

You were alone at home watching a sad movie, to match your mood. He opens the door and sees you on the couch, hurrying to you. “Why are you with this sad face?” “Because I’m sad!” “No, baby, you can’t be sad, look at me, I’m your sunshine.”

Namjoon:

You go to the dorm because you’re feeling down. Maybe seeing your boyfriend would improve. “Oh, come to me, my love!” Namjoon says opening his arms. You stay together for a while, but you don’t get much better. “Oh, look!” He slaps his own face. “Why do you act like I’m a kid to laugh at it?” You say, laughing. “You laughed! You’re a kid!” (sorry that was a shit)

Jimin:

“Jimin, stop joking to cheer me up.” “No, I have to make my baby laugh.” He smiles exaggeratedly, and you laugh this time. “See? I got it.”

Taehyung:

He begins to tell you a random and meaningless story, leaving you confused. “What are you saying, Tae?” You laugh. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to cheer you up, but I don’t even know how.” He laughed even more.

Jungkook:

“Do you want hugs?” “No.” “Kisses?” “No.” “Baby, what do I do to cheer you up?” “Nothing!” “Umm, what if I buy some food?” “Hmmm, maybe.” You smile. “You are impossible.”


Requests are open! Feel free to ask. (click here if u want.)

Monsta X Imagine | As Neighbors

| If it isn’t too much work (I totally understand if it is!) you should do that cute Neighbors AU thing with the members of Monsta X! I feel like they would be 2cute4thisworld as neighbors. BUT only do it if you feel like it isn’t too much to ask for.  | my friend i am so excited for thissss ~Admin H


Shownu: honestly in this AU he’s still a super buff darling dancer that u hear thumping around at 3 am dancing to Big Bang but he’s got a super soft side 2 him and he isn’t afraid of showing it he’s got lovely curtains and he’s v proud of his little herb garden on his balcony and he’s got an apron that says Kiss the Cook on it that Minhyuk got him as a joke but he ended dup loving it a lot and u always see him tending and talking to his plants bc ur balcony is next to his and you think its really sweet until one day the neighbor’s mean old cat climbs into his balcony and starts eating his plants and ur reading ur book on urs and you freak out at it bc no!!! those are his lil friends!!! but he’s not home so you climb over into his balcony and try to shoo the cat off but then shown comes home to u battling a cat away from his plants and its a v strange sight but u guys bc low-key friends until he realizes….wowow ur like…really cute…

Wonho: he’s your low key annoying neighbor that at first you’re like oh god….he’s one of those Party Douchebags that’s constantly bringing girls over and having loud parties but then u find out the only reason he brings girls home is bc he’s making sure that they have a safe place to sleep off the alcohol in their system or get an uber ride home, and he plays loud music bc he’s practicing dancing for a charity show, and the random thumping on walls is when he’s talking to his mom on the phone while doing chores and he walked into a wall and after u help him save a kitten off the streets u guys really bond n now u guys r pretty much inseparable and maybe he starts 2 have feelings for you…. 

Minhyuk: he’s that really loud neighbor but you really dont mind that he’s loud bc he’s so cute and so happy and kind and he’s that neighbor that always orders food at weird times of the day so sometimes you’ll get a knock on the door at like…12 at night and he’s holding a box of pizza and he’s got half a slice in his mouth like…hey i’ve ordered too many boxes do u want to come over w my friends and i and eat some and at first ur like um what time is it but then um free food hell yes and that’s how u become best friends w minhyuk 

Kihyun: he’s the mom neighbor that you can always go to if you need sugar, a bit of flour for something, or if u need advice!! He’s always there for you and he the type of neighbor to bring you cookies if he even gets a hint that you’re feeling down, and he’s the first person you go to if you need someone to watch your apartment/animals when you have to go away for a while, and he’s pretty much one of your best friends in a mothering neighbor form.(he also makes sure that you get home safely if you have a night of drinking, bringing you advil and water in the morning after purposefully talking loudly)

Hyungwon: his apartment is just,,,,instagram goals like seriously,,,,its just so neat and aesthetically pleasing and he loves to find cool little things he can bring back to his apartment to take pictures of and his walls have this huge collection of polaroid pictures and he’s the one you go to when you need advice about interior decorating and when you’ve had a bad day and he’s the king of 6$ wine that tastes like $3,000 and you guys watch dramas or reality shows and talk trash and are salt buddies and you guys have neighbor dates where is just you guys bitching to each other about life over wine and junk food and it’s wonderful and eventually he’s like,,,,instead of being salty over other people how about we like,,,,,,be salty about people together

Jooheon: Joohoney is sort of scary to some of the elderly neighbors like they think he’s up 2 no good bc he always wears dark colors and piercings and in this AU he’s got a tongue piercing bc i can and he just spells bad news and u believe it until one day the power goes out and you just hear this screech and u dont know who it is until theres a knocking on ur door and its Jooheon in a fluffy pink bathrobe w kittens on it and he’s got tears in his eyes and ur like,,,who is this boy and turns out he was in the shower when the power went out and he’s actually….super cute and nice his apartment is filled w cute pictures of animals and really pretty plates and lots of plants that all have names and u guys end up talking for forever until the lights come back on and ur like oh shit,,,,he cute 

Changkyun: he’s just?? he seems like the most normal person in ur building until u hear his screeching along gin the shower to AOA and he has like 15 different packages outside his door like does he have an online shopping problem?(the answer is yes) but it turns out he’s buying amiibos and you once saw him literally wait at the door for a package and he’s got the nintendo switch in his hands and ur like,,,fuck. holy shit. hOOOLY SHIT and you race over there and practically break down his door like heY YOU DONT KNOW ME BUT LIKE THAT’S THE SWITCH ISNT IT and at first he’s like um my door but then hELL YEAH ITS THE SWITCH WANNA PLAY SNIPPERCLIPS TOGETHER and that’s how u guys bond and eventually he’s like…wow this person is not only cute but like,,,,,a huge nerd,,perfect

Writing Tips: Beginnings

Hi guys, 

I know from experience (as I’m sure you do too) that the start of the story is often the hardest part to write. You can have whole worlds mapped out, extensive plots worked down to the most intricate details, fleshed-out characters, the lot, but when you sit down to embark on this epic journey of creation… Nothing. 

So today I’ve got a few tips for you on how to write beginnings (and if you have your own magical kernels of advice I urge you to share them!)

• Start Your Story at the Last Possible Moment: This is one I learned just recently, and actually changed the starting point of my current manuscript because of it. It’s crucial for grabbing the reader’s attention. Your reader doesn’t have the time or patience to read about your main character waking up, having breakfast, travelling to school, sitting through classes, going to football practice and then witnessing a murder on the way home. Show them the murder first. Drop them in the thick of the action. It wouldn’t make sense to start your story after the murder, hence what I mean about the last possible moment, then you’d miss all the fun! Start narrating at the closest point to the first important event in your story, and your reader won’t have time to get bored.

• Your Reader Doesn’t Care (Yet): I know you love your protagonist. You know their backstory, you adore their little quirks and you’re rooting from them from Page 1. You know your baddie is wicked, you despise them for what they’ve done (or perhaps like me you have a little soft spot for them!). I know you’re desperate for that romance to blossom. Guess who doesn’t care? The reader. …Sorry. Like it or not, you need to make them care, as soon as you can. The kid who witnessed the murder earlier? They only saw it because they were moving a tiny cute hedgehog from the road into the park. Bam. The reader cares about the animal-lover and evidently nice person. Remember to show their struggle, show the stakes, so the reader can’t bare to put the book down. 

• Try Not to Info-Dump: It’s tempting. I know. Especially with high-concept genres like sci-fi and fantasy, you want your reader to understand what’s going on right from the offset. But this goes back to my last point: they really don’t care yet. Believe it or not, you can give plenty of information at the start without overwhelming or boring your reader. Your title, your cover, your blurb, all of these can and should be giving an indication of what readers can expect. Furthermore, you’d be amazed just how little readers need to know to get engrossed in your book, but not be misled. Show them a newly-formed rebellion, they’ll guess there’s a tyrant leader. Show them a highly emotional break-up, they’ll guess the relationship was facing difficulties. You can weave more details into the story as it progresses, but only give your readers the bare minimum at the start. 

Finally, Ignore All of This: Yup. There we go. Ultimately, assuming you’re working on your first draft, the beginning isn’t that important until you’ve finished the damn story. Start. Write a horrific beginning. If it’s slow, thick with information, even boring, get on with it. Get to the good stuff, and fix it later. That’s what editing’s for. 


So there you have it, my tips for writing a super, engaging beginning to hook your readers. There’s plenty related to this that I haven’t covered here, but coming up soon I’ll have a post on prologues, one on introducing characters/settings, basically I’ve got you covered. Thanks for reading, hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it, and I’ve given you some food for thought. Feel free to send me any questions, I’d love to help!

Until next time.

- Hazel :)

anonymous asked:

Isak eats really unhealthy! While his friends are all eating sandwiches at school he'll eat a bun or a Norwegian waffle. Like boy should not be living by himself, lol. I'm glad even makes him eggs for breakfast. And I wonder if even is good at cooking in general. At least he seems to be taking charge in the kitchen so far. I have a feeling Isak is the kind to just grab a handful of cereal out of the box before

FO’ REAL!! I doubt Isak has had a balanced meal since he ran away from home! And he may very well grab cereal from the box, assuming he has any at home, either way he’s probably forgotten to buy milk.

Even is definitely more interested in cooking than Isak, and given that he has some seasoning tricks to make the food taste better, I imagine he has some culinary talents as well. Isak however, I doubt could cook to save his own life! At least this is what empiric data tells me…

Because of course me being the weirdo I am, I’m physically incapable of speculating about stuff like this without researching and getting all the facts™ first, so I’ve gone through all the times (that I could remember) we’ve seen Isak eating and compiled some data.

In the words of Isak: NU KÖR VI~


We don’t really know anything about Isak’s eating habits at home (in S1). And aside from Even, the only one who’s made food for Isak is Eva. When they were at Jonas’ cabin she made them pasta and tomato sauce

She also treated him to a coffee at one point (not food but still!).

I didn’t remember seeing Isak eat anything in particular in S2, so let’s skip onto S3….

First time we see Isak eating in S3, is the bun you mentioned. We see him tearing the raisin out of the bun, which tells me this is one of those semi-sweet raisin buns. They are delicious but not exactly healthy. (somewhat related: after close inspection I’m 95% sure these are raisin buns with CARDAMOM ❤︎).

Next time we see him eating it’s the cheese toast with ALL THE SPICES and ketchup that Even made him. Not exactly balanced food, but alright for a midday snack imo?

Unfortunately I doubt Isak finished it… when their datehangout got interrupted by guests, you see Isak look down dejectedly at his toasts and tap his thumb against his leg. :( Once Sonja is introduced I imagine Isak made himself scarce.

When Even spends the weekend at Isak’s after Halloween, they must have eaten something. The flatmates didn’t see either of them until Sunday, supposedly, but the mug Even puts ash in suggests to me that Isak probably sneaked out and made them sandwiches & cocoa or smth (that or the mug was already in his room… but one entire day, they’d have to eat) at some point.

Isak isn’t really great at getting breakfast either. That Sunday he literally opens the door, gets asked about Even by Noora and Eskild, and then closes the door again. Wonder how long it took for him to dare venture out… boy must have been starving!

After the painful ‘breakup’ when Isak wasn’t sleeping well, I can’t imagine he was eating so great either. Especially not if you consider the sad sad toast he got from the canteen. One toast with only cheese, it seriously looks just as tired as Isak does!

Of all the foods Isak has bought, the kebab he ate with Jonas is definitely among the healthiest. I imagine he spends most of his allowance/the money his dad sends on snapbacks (he can’t have borrowed all of them!), beer and eating fast food.

Luckily, if it’s down to Even Isak gets to eat a sturdy breakfast. And that’s good considering how Isak hardly seems to be able to get himself breakfast at the flat. (does he even have any food there?) I imagine that Even realized this when he stayed over the previous time, and simply decided to take matters into his own hands, with a little help from the Noora (and Eskild), making Isak scrambled eggs after staying over the second time.

Isak doesn’t join the guys for pizza… but on Friday, Isak waits for Even at the KB. I only saw a coffee cup though, so who knows if he had anything to eat there? Once again Even makes sure they get some food, ordering burgers and champagne (and what looks like cakes? fancy smørbrød?) at the hotel. Isak doesn’t exactly lack appetite at that point ;)

We don’t know what or how he ate the days after… but on Tuesday, we’re back to Isak’s classic diet. He gets a waffle. The guy doesn’t even put jam or anything tasty on it (except whipped cream?). idk what is up with Nissen’s canteen, but stuff looks plain af. (I feel for norwegianall kids who are forced to pay for or bring their own school lunches….)

Now last food Isak prepared (as I am writing this) was a ready-made frozen Grandiosa pizza, which can hardly be considered cooking. And it wasn’t even his (he doesn’t have any food at the flat does he…).

In conclusion (TL;DR):

I doubt Isak knows how to cook. I’m CERTAIN he maintains a horribly unhealthy diet ever since he ran away from home. And I’m hoping that Even’s cooking skills extend beyond breakfast and sandwiches, but honestly I’m fairly certain it does? Even seems comfortable enough in a kitchen to figure it out and make them some healthy food. So with Even in his life…

Hallelujah Isak is saved!!

Addicted Part 2 - Jughead x Reader

A/N: You guys seemed to like Addicted and wanted a part 2 so here you go!! I hope you enjoy and I may be making a part 3 if you’re interested :) Part One

Warnings: Drugs, drinking, smoking, violence, swearing, angst

Word count:  1875


You were sitting in English bored out of your mind, the effects of the pills were starting to wear off and you were craving a cigarette, you could see Jughead out of the corner of your eye, you started to think about how to ask if he was related to FP, after all, FP was ‘the second’ and this Jughead guy seemed to be ‘the third’ but you had been to FP’s house and never seen this boy so something was up.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to a note that was thrown at you, you turned to see Betty smiling and mouthing “Open it”, you looked down at the note and unfolded it.

Pops after school, meet me at my locker? - B, the note read. You turned to Betty and nodded, she smiled and turned back to the front to listen to the teacher drabble on about some Romeo and Juliet project.

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Hawaii Five-0 season 8 rant

I really get it that the cast members aren’t open for a season 8, or maybe see it as a last season. I mean, what Alex revealed in that exclusive interview is true. The show doesn’t lose its magic quickly, but it’s getting harder and harder to find an original plot-line and still be creative while doing it. Basically, Alex doesn’t want it to be milked out, which is absolutely understandable. Besides that, slowly the original cast is walking out to do new stuff, to develop their career the cast want to quit together, as a family. If that isn’t enough, Alex made clear the show also put a physical strain on his body. 

 But I wouldn’t want it to end at season 7, at least not as a fan. Besides that, I feel like I need some sort of closure. Does Danny retire and when? What happens after this? Is there ever going to be McDanno? The directors shouldn’t close the whole season off, with something steadfast, because the crew is always going to remain Five-0 and keep solving crimes, like they’ve been doing for 8 years. You can’t just change that.

 They don’t even have to do a whole season. Not for me.

 But just make a special episode, a somewhat ending. If I got to make one, I would do it like this.

Danny opens his restaurant (after like a year or so), which is not named Steve’s thank you very much… It’s actually more a bar/café than a restaurant. But he serves a mean steak, some (Jersey?) food and nothing too Hawaiian.

Gracie sometimes comes over and helps out.

 Five-0 hangs there often for free beers and it annoys Danny on end, but he’s secretly really glad that they’re still a family. Sometimes when they are stuck on a case, they tell Danny everything and Steve complains about his new partner.

(Just push in a scene somewhere that Danny still got them cop reflexes when taking care of some drunk pricks in his restaurant.)

And I don’t know, sometimes Danny is still a key in solving the crime and sometimes Danny still calls in the middle of missions to see if Steve doesn’t do anything too dangerous. (It makes Steve’s relationship with his new partner start off a little awkward.)

And when the murder is solved, (Steve and the new guy have a scene) and it is night, Steve calls Danny, who’s closing the restaurant and cleaning up and walking up the stairs and Steve says ‘’I’m coming over tonight.’’ He opens the door with a spare key and closes it as soft as possible. He walks up the stairs, just being tired and throwing off his gear. Danny’s sitting up in bed and Steve says something like ‘’I thought you were asleep’’ and Danny answers with something sassy. Steve just rolls his eyes fondly, giving Danny a peck and like ‘’goodnight’’ lying down next to him and turning off the lights. That is when the credits start to roll.  


It’s 2017 guys! Besides that, the directors have teased us so much with McDanno that it would be, I almost want to say weak, not to give the (majority) of the fans what they want. Besides that, we need some closure, but at the same time the reassurance that Five-0 is always gonna be a (fictional) family who keep Hawaii safe.

Nothing Like a Lawful Neutral

Context: My fighter is the only Lawful Neutral character on a team consisting of a True Neutral halfling monk, a Chaotic Neutral tiefling warlock, and a Neutral Good half-elf ranger with a bad impression of laws in general. They’re all endearingly nuts in their own way, and, well. He fits in like soy sauce on mashed potatoes.

-

Warlock: *after surviving the shipwreck that nearly killed all of us* So you worked for the people transporting us?

Fighter: Money doesn’t grow on trees. Of course I was.

Ranger: You know it was a slave ship right?

Fighter: You were getting transported to prison! The only thing enslaving you are the consequences of your crimes.

-

Monk: You not gonna like, wrangle us into line?

Fighter: Why.

Monk: I mean, you were a guard, right? You arrest people.

Fighter: We are in the middle of a jungle. What laws could you possibly be breaking?

Ranger: *OOC* I roll to see what impossible feats of physics-defying tricks I can do to piss this guy off.

-

Warlock: So are we going back to jail if we get to a place where there’s a jail?

Fighter: I mean, they feed you in most prisons. Terrible food, but it’s free.

Warlock: …Damn he right.

-

Ranger: Do you arrest people even when they’re doing the right thing?

Fighter: Everyone should be held accountable for their actions regardless of intentions.

Ranger: Easy for you to say.

Fighter: Listen, I got banished from my country and disowned from my family because I was fucking my country’s Crown Prince. I deserve the rights to say this like it was easy.

Ranger: …Okay but that’s– Okay, you couldn’t have had good intentions about that.

Fighter: I think there were some good ones, but then he took off his shirt and I forgot what they were.

Monk: And I thought my getting kicked out of my temple for fapping during prayer was dramatic.

DM: …Oh. :-)

-

Ranger: You don’t have many friends, do you?

Fighter: I had some but the murder hobos fucking killed them all. :)

-

Warlock: Well at least you aren’t lecturing us on honor or anything.

Fighter: Honor is reliability. That’d like chanting Celestial to a demon.

Warlock:

Fighter:

Warlock: …Not all tieflings.

-

Soy sauce on mashed potatoes: weird taste, but acceptable.

distractions

a Bill x Martha AU fic where Twelve is just an ordinary eccentric professor who gives brilliant lectures, one of which is where Bill and Martha meet for the first time

for @angelandfaith

A girl plopped down into the seat next to Bill’s, messenger bag hitting the floor with a thud that suggested more textbooks than just the one she was carrying.

“Thought I was going to miss the start today. You know how he is about latecomers and I wasn’t about to be his latest example,” she said, directing a bright smile at Bill before leaning down to dig a notebook and pen out of her bag.

“Yeah, he’s pretty harsh about the time,” Bill agreed. She was honestly amazed she’d managed to form a sentence, even if it was an inane one. Her new neighbor was gorgeous, all skin like copper and twinkling eyes and brilliant smile.

Yeah, no way were her notes going to be great today with something other than the Doctor’s lecture to hold her attention.

“I’m Martha, by the way,” the new arrival said, turning that smile back on Bill.

“Bill.” She hoped that her smile was enough to convey her very deep interest in continuing this conversation later because before she could say anything else, the Doctor stepped onto the platform and began his lecture with his normal dramatic flair.

By the time the lecture was over and the eccentric professor had disappeared, Bill’s nerves had had enough time to build to a buzzing overload in regards to the conversation she was hoping to have and then dissipate again.

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Why do people think “southern” means “White Racist Southern Belle/Gentleman” like lmao

yes we have white people

but we got more than that.

I have never found a good guide to writing a southern character so here you go free guide to writing a southern character:

  1. Make a character. It doesn’t matter. Black? Asian? Trans? Non-binary? Gay? Bi? Or even a white/cis/hetero person.
  2. Give them a southern accent.
  3. Look up some southern-style food/put a piece of cornbread in their mouth.
  4. Look up specific cities/states if you need to.
  5. Give them a personality. Any kind of personality. Make them an asshole if you want. Or kind and caring. Street smart or book smart.
  6. Give them a background. Rich family? Living in poverty? Abusive family? Basic background where the family’s caring and money is decent? It works.
  7. Depending on how far south you’re going, make them give sarcastic nicknames- a well said “sweetheart” or “sugar” is an insult, at least down here in Georgia.

That’s it. That’s literally all it takes to make a southern character. There’s literally no reason you have to stick to (annoying and possibly harmful) stereotypes of southern people. The only thing I’ve said that’s kind of stereotypical is seventh thing- “sweetheart”- but even then, it’s an actual thing that a lot of people do.

This is mostly just me being a sarcastic asshole who’s bitter about how people treat southerners lmao.

“But Taylor southern people aren’t as accepting of-” Southern People Are a Grab Bag, Just Like Every Where Else, Of People Who Are Open And Closed Minded.

Like… I grew up in a family that was very accepting. When I came out as pan/had a girlfriend, my family didn’t care at all. They were just happy that I was happy. One of my friends has a girlfriend, and her immediate family doesn’t care and puts up with her gay/bi jokes.

So again, this is mostly just from me being bitter, but if this actually /helped/ you, then that’s great! Otherwise, sorry for my long rant.

My Brother’s Wedding

by mrs momona © 2017

This is the first weight gain related story written by the author whose pseudonym is “mrs momona”. It was written in 2003.

A month ago, my brother got married. It was a happy event for our entire family. For me, it was a lot more. Because of my brother’s wedding, I became aware of certain things about myself.

It all started five years ago when I was a senior in high school. I had been interested in sports since I was a little kid, and in high school, I had gone out for football and baseball. At the beginning of football practice in August of my senior year I remember I was measured at 5'9" and 180 lbs.

That November, my life changed dramatically. My father was killed in a traffic accident–head-onned by a drunk driver, leaving my mom, me, and my kid brother, four years younger than me. I dropped football to get a part-time job after school. Although we weren’t poor, I knew some extra money would help out my mom as well as pay for my car expenses.

There’s a deli in town that I used to stop at sometimes after practice to buy a snack to eat on the way home. The first day I was job hunting after school, I stopped by the deli and noticed a sign in the window: “Part-Time Help Wanted”. I asked one of the employees about the sign, and I was told to talk to the owner, Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones turned out to be a big heavy guy, a little shorter than me but with a huge belly. To make a long story short, we talked for a while and he told me he’d hire me. I was told to report to work the next day after school. I’d be working afternoons, some evenings, and weekends.

The next afternoon I showed up at work and was introduced by Jim, one of the workers, to a cute girl named Amy. At first glance she seemed to be about my age, and, like I said, real attractive. She was kinda chubby, big up front and in the butt. Jim told me that Amy was the boss’s daughter and had helped at the deli since she was a little kid. She would show me the ropes.

My job orientation with Amy went well. She was also a senior in high school, but attended a private school across town from my high school. I had a hard time listening to what Amy was telling me–I kept on admiring her cute face, nice smile, and soft curves in all the right places. I guessed her to be about 5'6" tall and maybe 160 lbs of perfection.

The job responsibilities were simple–stock the shelves in the mini-mart attached to the deli, make sure the tables and chairs were clean in the small dining area, but mostly wait on customers. The deli sold a full range of cold cuts and cheeses; sandwiches made to order; chilled salads and homemade desserts; and hot items like roasted chicken and baked ziti that customers could take home for dinner. The deli was open from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. and did a lot of business at breakfast and lunchtime with guys coming in from the nearby industrial area. Afternoon, evening, and weekend customers included a lot of people buying take-home items for dinner, snacks, or–hey, whatever, as long as they bought something!

Looking back, it was that first day on the job that really changed my life. Amy showed me how to make the deli sandwiches which were a major part of the business: take the order, slice the meats and cheeses for the filling, lavishly butter the roll or bread, pile on the filling, and add things like lettuce, tomato, onions, or other garnishes. I got the hang of it pretty fast. Jim gave me some tips about waiting on customers: if the customer is a heavy guy or lady, give them some extra filling on the sandwich, or some extra salad or dessert in the container. Don’t say anything, but make sure they know that you’re giving them a little extra–that’s how you get customers to return. When I asked Jim why to do this only with heavy customers, he laughed and said “How do you think they got heavy? They like food!”

When closing time approached, Jim showed me how to close up, lock the doors, clean everything as thoroughly as possible, and make sure everything was secure and ready for opening the next morning. He next said, “Oh, and one benefit of the job is that you can take home leftovers, or make a sandwich to go or something if you want”.

Free food! Like any healthy growing American boy I was interested. Jim explained that for cold items like salads and desserts, everything left over in the display case after two days was to be tossed at the end of the day–the selling point of the deli was freshness. Same thing with cold cuts or cheeses which had been pre-sliced to make sandwiches when there were a lot of customers. Any of these left at closing time had to be thrown out because they’d dry out by the next day and wouldn’t taste right. Same thing with the hot items and roasted chickens left in the rotisserie at closing time. The board of health required that they be thrown out and not be kept for another day.

I was shocked–throwing away all that food–and said so. Jim replied, “well, the boss says it’s all part of doing business. At the end of the day, either toss it or eat it yourself.”

“Eat it?” I replied.

Jim laughed, “Yeah, how do you think I got this ‘deli belly’?” On saying that, he jiggled the flabby pot belly sagging over his belt.

While Jim and I were talking, Amy  was busy–it turns out she was making two overstuffed roast beef and jack cheese sandwiches on rye. She wrapped them and gave them to me saying, “Here, enjoy these on the way home. Like Jim says, if you don’t eat it we’ll just toss it.” As she said this, Amy gave me a big smile. Her hand seemed to linger as she put the sandwiches in my hands–or was it just my imagination? As I munched the sandwiches on the way home–they were delicious–I remember thinking that I had lucked into a great job–pretty good pay, free food, and Amy!

The next few months went by quickly. I fell into the routine on the job, always making sure that at the end of the day there were some things to eat on the way home. I started to nibble on the job, just like I had seen all the other employees doing. I kept up my grades in school, and most importantly, I got to know Amy better. She made sure we both had the same evenings off, so we could go out. Over time, her parents began to invite me for dinner, just like my mom began to invite her over to my house for dinner, too. We got to be real close, and fell in love.

On a Saturday night in March, three months before high school graduation, Amy and I were sitting in my car after I closed up the deli. I was busy finishing off the last of my post-work snack–two overstuffed turkey and cheese deli sandwiches, a quart of potato salad, and a quart of chocolate milk. Amy and I were talking about what late movie to go to when she quietly started to cry. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “I think I’m pregnant.”

The first words out of my mouth were, “OK, let’s get married.” I still wonder why I said that–I knew I loved Amy, and we had vaguely talked about getting married one day, but we never had made any definite plans. I guess I thought of how happy my parents’ marriage had been, and I wanted the same for Amy and me. In any case, I said the right thing–Amy overwhelmed me with kisses while I was trying to finish off my last mouthful of that creamy delicious potato salad.

Much to my relief, Amy’s parents didn’t kill me when we went to talk with them. In fact, her father said to me, “You’re going to be the son I never had”. (Amy is an only child.) Our parents and we agreed that Amy and I would get married right after high school graduation in June, and that I’d start working full time in the deli. In the fall, I’d be going full time to the local junior college, majoring in culinary arts, and keep my hours at the deli while Amy stayed home and cared for our baby.

The next few months of high school kinda went by in a blur—time spent with Amy, trying to be a good son to my mom and a good “big brother” to my kid brother, studying, working 40 hours a week (at least) at the deli to make some extra money, and trying to keep in touch with “the guys” I used to play sports with.

I remember the final week of school–we had to report to the Health Room to be weighed and measured just as we had been at the beginning and end of each school year since kindergarten. I can still hear the health aide say “5'9” and then “217–let’s see, young man, you’ve put on 37 lbs since last August.” “My reaction was "whoa”, followed by “Let’s see, I have to be at work by 4:00–I just have time to stop by McD’s to get a couple of double quarters with cheese, some fries, and a shake to hold me until I can eat during my dinner break.” As you can see, my growing appetite included food from any source–not just the deli. To me, anything eaten in addition to breakfast, lunch, and dinner were “snacks” and just didn’t count as real eating.

Amy and I got married in June–just a small wedding–Amy’s folks, my mom and brother, my best buddy Joe as best man, and Amy’s best friend as bridesmaid. Looking back now, it’s interesting to recall what happened when my buddy Joe and I went to rent two dark suits for the ceremony. Joe stepped up to be measured–42 chest, 32 waist. Next came me–44 chest, 38 waist. The tailor then measured my hips and added, “just a minute, sir, you’re going to need the full-cut trousers.”

Afterwards, Joe and I stopped at BK for a little snack. I was working on my 3 whoppers with cheese, large onion rings, fries, and shake while Joe finished his BK broiler. Joe continued the snickering he had started when we were at the tailor’s. When I asked him what was up, he replied, “You know what 'full cut trousers’ means, don’t you?”

“No, what?” I said with my mouth full.

“It means you’re getting a big fat ass to match that fat belly you’ve been building up the past few months.”

I remember saying “Yeah, so what?” and thinking—yup, I’m a man now–I’m gonna have a wife soon, then we’ll have our kid, I’ve got a full time job–I don’t have time to worry about other stuff. My father had always been a “big guy”–250 or so–Amy’s dad was a real “big guy” and I just expected that men became “big guys”. I was a man now, and my weight of 217 proved it. Besides, from the time I was a little kid playing Little League baseball, I had always been kidded about the size of my butt. I was just naturally bigger back there and in my thighs than a lot of guys were–so what? That’s what helped make me a good catcher, right?

I was real busy the next two years. Amy gave birth to our son Johnny–named for my father–in October. Meanwhile, I was up at 4 a.m., at the deli from 5 to 7 a.m., at school from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., back at the deli from 5 to 8 p.m. That was weekdays. On Saturdays, I was at the deli all day (5 a.m. to 10 p.m.) I liked my classes, liked learning about food, and liked my job. Most of all, I loved Amy and our son. When days were really stressful, I knew I could look forward to going home to one of Amy’s delicious home-cooked meals (her lasagna with butter-soaked garlic bread was and is my favorite), spending some time with her and Johnny, and then enjoying one of Amy’s home baked treats with a quart of milk as a bedtime snack before collapsing into bed and getting some rest before I had to wake up at 4 a.m. the next morning. I came to rely on those dinners and bedtime snacks as stress relievers. The richer the food and the more of it I ate, the more relaxed it made me feel.

Sundays were my day off. Catching up on my nap time, spending time with my son, and helping Amy around the house were usual. Once in a while we’d get together with my buddy Joe and his girlfriend or some of our other friends from high school. Every week, we’d go to either Amy’s folks’ or to my mom’s house for Sunday dinner. Always great food which I couldn’t get enough of, even though Amy’s mom and my mom always made sure my plate was piled high with food–as soon as my plate was clean, they’d pile on the seconds, thirds, or fourths before I could say anything. Can’t let good food go to waste, right?

After two years, I graduated from junior college and went to work full time at the deli. The week after I graduated, my father-in-law invited me to lunch at this great Italian buffet in town. After we both stuffed ourselves, he broke the news to me–he wanted to retire, and in return for a monthly payment to him, the deli would belong to me and Amy. He told me that I had “proved myself” to him by my hard work and getting my degree in culinary arts while handling all my other responsibilities. I was so happy–I celebrated by stuffing myself with Italian goodies from the dessert bar, for the first time actually eating more than my father-in-law. I was so proud–proud of his faith in me and proud of myself for the man I had become.

Today, it’s been three years since I took over management of the deli. It’s hard work, but I love it. 72 hour workweeks are common, but I’ve got a great bunch of employees. I’ve got a great family, too. Amy gave birth to our second son Robbie two years ago, and that pregnancy also left her with some additional luscious pounds in all the right places. She’s so beautiful and sweet–I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.

Looking back over the past five years, I see now what was happening to me–I was just too busy to realize it or acknowledge it. From the time I got married, things would happen that should have been signals of the changes that were happening to me. I’d have a hard time pulling jeans over my thighs and ass, and finally reached the point last year where I just couldn’t squeeze into even the fullest cut jeans. Shorts and pants became difficult to fasten at the waist. If I was able to fasten them, quite often I couldn’t pull the zipper up–if I was able to, often the zipper would burst open unexpectedly. Bending over to pick something up from the floor or just going to sit down in a chair often led to seam failure from the crotch back to the waistband. Tying my shoes became a struggle. T-shirts shrank over my chest, rode up over my stomach, and the sleeves became tight over my upper arms.

Long time customers would sometimes make comments like, “Looks like business is good” or “You’re really a good advertisement for the deli”. I would just laugh and fill their order, always giving them a little extra. Once in a while, an old high school buddy would stop by and call me “big guy”. Joe, my best man, would often take a pinch at my side, stomach, chest, or rear end and say “Wow, prime grade beef”.

“Yeah”, I would sometimes think, “I’ve picked up a few pounds since high school, but heck, what do you expect? I’ve got a family and a business here. I’ve got other things to worry about.” Besides, every split seam or popped zipper would result in a new (and bigger) pair of pants or shorts for me to wear the next day. I can always count on Amy to take care of me. I guess I just felt good–solid, substantial, happy, content

My moment of truth came about three months ago. My kid brother, by now 20, was getting ready to be married and asked me to be his best man. Of course I agreed. We made arrangements to go to the tailors to be fitted for our rental tuxedos. The night he, I, and his ushers were supposed to go, I had to back out because one of my employees had called in sick that day.

I arranged to go the next night. I left work at 6 p.m., bringing  along a snack of two overstuffed roast beef sandwiches, a quart of potato salad, and a quart container of our extra creamy chocolate tapioca pudding to tide me over until I could get home and have dinner with Amy and the boys. Right before I got to the tailor shop, I realized I had dribbled chocolate pudding on my T-shirt. I took it off and pulled on an old sweatshirt that was in the backseat. Didn’t want to look like a slob.

Going inside the shop, I told the tailor who I was. There were no other customers. He took me into the fitting room. I noticed him eyeing me up and down as he brought me into the room. He told me to strip down to my underwear saying, “Sir, we’re going to have to specially alter your tux, so I’m going to need to take a complete set of measurements.” He directed me to stand on a small riser in the middle of the room. At that point, the front door chime sounded, indicating that another customer had come in. The tailor excused himself, saying he would be back in a few minutes.

I kicked off my shoes and took off my pants, folding them on a chair. I next pulled off with some effort the sweatshirt I had put on in the car. Must’ve shrunk in the wash, I guess. That left me standing in my jockey shorts. On three sides of me, the walls were all mirrors, angled so that I could see my front, both sides, and back.

My first thought when I saw myself head-to-toe in the mirrors was “WHOA!” I looked at my face. The curly brown hair on top of my head was the same as it always had been. I was amazed at what I saw from there on down. All I could see were bulges, rolls, ripples, and curves. It was like I was seeing myself for the first time, and in a way, I guess I was.

My face was round and fleshy, with chubby cheeks and a wide double chin. My neck, what I could see of it, was wide and blended into my shoulders. I was kind of comforted to see the width of my shoulders–I still had my football players build–but then  I realized that my wide shoulders merged into the flab on my plump upper arms, making me look wider.

What I saw on my chest is kind of hard to describe. From my shoulders downwards, there were two big cushions of fat, separated in the middle by a deep valley. Mounted on each of these cushions were two oval, overstuffed sacks of flab, each tipped by a stretched puffy pink nipple which pointed downwards and off to the side. These big sacks of flab started in the upper middle of my chest and then spread downwards and outwards, ending up diving under each arm as a roll of fat. “Wow”, I thought, “I have tits!” Separating my plump round upper arms from my chest on each side was a bulging triangle of flab, divided from each arm and each tit by deep creases.

Each tit sagged downwards and rested on my huge, oval pot belly. A little below the middle of the belly was a saucer-like depression in the flesh–in the middle of the saucer was my bellybutton, so deep it looked like a dark cave. I lightly pushed my index finger into this cavern, setting off ripples and quivers of my belly flab. I was surprised to see that my index finger went in all the way–at least 3 inches. As I shifted and moved to get a better look at myself, my bellybutton puckered into a slit in my flab, and then opened into a wide cave with each movement then puckered again as the flab wobbled.

The sheer mass of the fat on my belly caused it to sag and hang over the waistband of my jockeys, covering my crotch. No wonder I had become accustomed to spreading my heavy thighs wide when I sat down—it was more comfortable in that position to let the mass of my bellyfat hang downwards between my legs.

Off to each side of my pot belly were two wide round lovehandles–each so big they reminded me of truck tires. On each side, the lovehandles bulged out from below where my tit rolls pushed my upper arms outwards, separated from the tit rolls by two smaller rolls of flab on each side. The bulge of each lovehandle was pulled back in by the overstretched elastic waistband of my jockey shorts. My bulging pot belly sagged over and covered the waistband at the front of my jockeys.

Below the crotch of my jockeys I saw that my upper body was supported by two round, plump, tree-trunk-like thighs. My thighs came together between my crotch and my knees. I instantly realized why the inside upper legs of my pants and shorts were so worn out—my plump thighs rubbing together as I walked had done it.

I could still hear the tailor and the customer engaged in a lengthy discussion in the salesroom, so I continued my survey of what I had packed onto myself over the past five years.

Turning my head slightly, I looked in the mirror which was angled so I could look full on at my  back. I wasn’t surprised to see my thick neck forming a couple of rolls of fat at the top of my wide plump shoulders and upper arms. Below them were my wide fleshy deltoids, which merged into the round fat tit rolls which had started on my chest. Two fat rolls on each side creased my sides and back. Beneath them, where I once had lats, were the amazingly wide bulges of my lovehandles, almost as wide as my shoulders. So much for what used to be my “V” shaped back. There was a deep dimple in my back fat exactly in the center of my lower back.

Below the lovehandles, my jockey shorts were unable to cover the full area of my broad hips and glutes–or what used to be my glutes. What used to be my well developed muschlebutt had turned into two watermelon sized buttocks, so big and full and plump that, above the elastic of my jockeys, they bulged upwards to merge with each lovehandle. At the bottom of my jockeys, each plump cheek bulged outward and downward, forming rolls of flab where they finally merged into my thighs. My deep buttcrack was visible from above the waistband of my jockeys  and continued below the bottom of the jockeys, separating the two bulging lower buttcheeks.

At that point, I kind of lost my balance–I think I craned my head too far trying to take in the full immensity of my enormous ass–and I had to step off the riser briefly and then back on again. I was amazed by the reaction of my buttocks to this. Each buttock bobbled up and down with a life of its own, while wobbling from side to side at the same time. Beneath my jockeys, and over the wide area of my ass my jockeys couldn’t stretch to cover, I noticed the flab covering these huge melons jiggling and quivering while the bobbling and wobbling was going on. I suddenly realized why my kid brother had been calling me “Assquake” for the past couple of years. I thought he was just being a typical pesty kid brother–now I saw he was describing reality. I could imagine the show my buttcheeks put on everytime I walked (or as I now realized, waddled).

The back view of my wide hips, awesome ass, and plump thighs was fascinating, but then I glanced down at the backs of my lower legs. Being an athlete in high school, I was always proud of my big calves. Now I saw that each calf was the size of a honeydew melon, pumped up by having to support my lard. As I shifted my stance I could see the quivering of the flab covering each calf.

I still heard voices from the outer salesroom, so I next took in the view from the mirrors angled to show my sides. At this point, I shouldn’t have been surprised by anything I saw, but I was. I was shocked and at the same time thrilled to see how much I stuck out in front and in back. My belly rounded out in a bulging semicircle  more than a foot and a half before it began to curve back in to meet the waistband of my jockeys just above my crotch. Supported by the upper roundness of my pot, my searchlight-sized tits bulged roundly outwards for what seemed like six inches or so.

A glance downwards was the most impressive. Not only did my watermelon-sized buttocks sit high on my backside, starting from where my lovehandles merged into them, they ballooned much farther outwards toward the back–at least a foot and a half, I figured–before curving back in to meet my jiggling fat thighs in a series of flab rolls.

I was amazed to realize that I stuck out farther from the front of my belly bulge to the farthest back bulge of my ballooning buttocks than I did across the width of my shoulders, lovehandles, or hips. I was proud and thrilled to realize what a monument to the results of sustained overeating I had become.

At that point, the tailor came back into the fitting room. He proceeded to quickly take my measurements–neck, shoulders, arm length, chest, upper arms, belly, waist, hips/butt, thighs, and inseam. He then said he had to check stock, and would be back in a minute. I must admit I entertained myself while he was away by stepping up and down off the riser and watching my watermelons–err, buttcheeks–bobble, wobble, jiggle and quiver. What a show!

The tailor came in after a few minutes and gave me the news about my tux order: “Sir, the tuxedo shirt will be no problem–we have a 23 neck 37 arm length in stock. We also have a size 62 portly jacket in stock in the style your brother wants you to wear. For the pants, I have to ask you–do you wear your pants at your waistline or underneath your–umm, err—stomach?”


“It’s more comfortable underneath my stomach.”

“OK, in that case, we’ll take a size 66/32 pants we have in stock and start from there. You actually have a size 60 waistline, but we need the bigger size to fit your–umm, err—seat and thighs. We’ll take in the waist and they’ll fit fine. Also, we’ll triple stitch the seams of the trousers just to make sure there are no—ummm—accidents if you have to bend over.”

Stunned by the numbers the tailor was telling me, I managed to ask a few questions. “What does portly mean?”

He replied, “Sir, portly means that the jacket is cut fuller in the waist area for gentlemen who are bigger there.”

“Why can’t you just take size 60 pants and let them out rather taking such a bigger size and taking in the waist. Wouldn’t that be cheaper?” My business sense was affecting my thoughts.

The tailor blushed and paused. He seemed to be searching for the right words before he replied. “Well, sir, there wouldn’t be enough room in the size 60 pants if we let them out to the maximum in the seat and thighs. You’re just so much—err, ummm–more well-developed in those areas.” In other words, my impression from looking in the mirror was correct–my ass WAS enormous!

“Fine”, I finally said, still stunned by the numbers he gave me. I hadn’t bought clothes for myself since we were married—didn’t have time, and besides Amy took care of all that. Plus, for the past year, Amy’s mom had been making drawstring waist shorts for me to wear to work–so much more comfortable than whatever Amy could find in the store.

The tailor then told me to get dressed and come out to the cash register to sign the agreement and make a payment. I waddled over to the chair where I had placed my pants, sweatshirt, and shoes, and got dressed, slipping on the shoes last. I suddenly realized that Amy had bought me slip-on shoes two years ago when she saw me struggling to bend over to tie my lace-ups. At the time, I thought nothing of it–just Amy taking more care of me.

I took one last look in the mirrors as I walked out–I was fascinated by what I saw with my clothes on, too. Every bulge of my huge tits, upper arms, pot belly and lovehandles was emphasized by the tight sweatshirt, which, by the way, failed to cover the bottom part of my truck-tire lovehandles and bulging pot belly. I was distracted from watching the show put on by my watermelon buttocks when I noticed the wobbling, bouncing, and swaying of my pot belly and tits as I walked.

My thought as I left the tailor shop and waddled to me car, conscious that the different parts of my body all moved  with a life of their own, was “Wow, I must have put on 40 or 50 lbs or so since I got married.”

I got in the car and headed for home. My first thought was dinner—I remembered, tonight was lasagna and garlic bread. Amy always made me my own pan, with another pan to be shared by her and our sons. If I was lucky, there would be leftovers from that pan and I could have some extra lasagna to go with my bedtime snack. I was thinking that Amy had said she was going to bake some apple pies that day.

Suddenly, panic gripped me. Once Amy sees how fat I am, she’s going to put me on a diet for sure. Bye bye lasagna with  buttery garlic bread, and  a whole apple pie smeared with softened butter and washed down with a quart of whole milk as a bedtime snack.

Then it hit me! Amy knows I’m fat! She’s seen me get this big, and she didn’t say anything about it. I suddenly thought of all the special treats Amy had lovingly prepared for me, and how she always filled my plate with seconds and thirds before I even had a chance to ask for more. Of course, I had always eaten everything she put in front of me. I was excited to realize, “AMY LIKES ME FAT!” Then it hit me, too. What I had always seen as Amy’s luscious curvy body, which had grown bigger and bigger every year we were married, meant that she was fat, also. And, I loved it!

I arrived home, went inside, and greeted Amy with a big kiss. She returned the kiss, grabbing and caressing my soft lovehandles. I realized that she couldn’t get her arms all the way around me. My two sons grabbed onto my legs to get my attention. “C'mon Dad, let’s eat. We’re hungry!” said Johnny. “Yeah, starving”, said Robbie. I looked down at them and for the first time I really saw that they were two little butterballs, chubby cheeks, bulging bellies, and big butts. No wonder everyone always told me that they “took after” me. They’re fat, too. As Amy led me into the kitchen, I had a big smile on my face. I knew now what I hadn’t realized for past five years: “I’m FAT, and I love it. Plus, I have a beautiful fat wife and two fine fat kids. Life is great!”

I needed one more thing to make my self-realization complete. The next evening, on my way home from the deli, I stopped at the local UPS office where my buddy Joe was the manager. I greeted him and asked, “Hey, Joe, can I use your digital scale?”

“Sure, big guy, what do you need to weigh?” Joe replied.

“Well, actually, I want to check my weight”.

Joe smiled broadly as he led me into the back room and showed me the freight scale. I had to step onto the scale, and could feel everything bounce and wobble as I did so. I quickly thought of the last time I had been weighed, when I graduated from high school. “Let’s see, 217 plus 40, nah, let’s say 45, makes 262."  (Obviously, I was still in denial!)

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Joe yell out, "WOW!” I quickly looked at the digital readout and did a double take. 419! Joe brought me out of my thoughts by saying “Hey, big guy, way to go” as he poked the front of my massive belly , setting off an earthquake of jiggles in the soft flab.

On the way home, the numbers 4, 1, and 9 went through my mind. I smiled to myself. “Yep”, I thought, “I am one big guy. Great going.” The rumbling of my stomach took my attention and brought me back to the important stuff. It was still about 45 minutes until dinner. I reached over to the passenger’s seat and opened the double-quart container of creamy, mayonnaise- laced potato salad I had brought with me when I left work. (I had already eaten the sandwiches on the way to Joe’s office.) Dinner time with Amy, Johnny, and Robbie was a while yet and I knew I couldn’t last that long without a little snack to tide me over.
























I have this irrational hate for this co-worker I work with.

And it’s completely unjustified, yet I can’t help it.

She’s one of those people that think their job is a hunting ground for potential suitors and she NEVER gets any work done.

Her voice annoys the shit out of me. She sounds like a cat that is simultaneously orgasming and dying painfully.

And she’s a “big booty white girl” (her words, not mine) and so she thinks every black dude is out to dig in them guts and it just… It burns me up. Her face is busted anyway. And she got the “I fuck black men, but will call the cops if you don’t do what I want AND will ask to speak to the manager for free food everytime, even if it’s nothing wrong” haircut. You know the one.

How about you big booty your ass in these emails and help out here? We got these service tickets you could be assisting with, you know.

And her feet dirty.

She swears them heels are Christian Louboutins, but I swear she took some red felt and stapled it to the bottom of them.

Everything about her is trying to kill me mentally and I have to resort to hating her.

Completely irrational and unjustified, yet I can’t help myself.

Store bought iced coffee latte is never as good as homemade. Also, it’s impossible to get a caffeine free version let alone a sugar free one! (Why is it always low on fat, but high in sugar? That doesn’t even make sense? It’s still unhealthy). I usually make my ice cubes out of coffee too, but plain water was all I got in the freezer so that’ll make do!

I’ve sort of put my love for coffee on the shelves since getting pregnant. Which I found out is actually pretty normal. But I still love my cold version - and also this post reminds me I need to buy some vanilla ice cream so I can make a mean affogato.

A little education on Gluten

This needs to be written, I’ve seen so many people be made fun of for gluten allergies this week, so I’m educating whoever reads this.

I have coeliacs (celiacs in America) and more specifically dermatitis herpetiformis, which is a skin condition caused by the presence of gluten. Even touching it can leave me in a rash. So if I ask, “oh, is that gluten free?” I’m being serious. Even if I ask it about things that shouldn’t have gluten in. We got some nice ham the other day. It had gluten in, in the seasoning. Certain types of ice-cream contain gluten. Most tinned soups contain gluten. Gluten is not just wheat, although that is a part of it.

There are also foods that contain gluten but contain so little that it’s considered to not cause a reaction in most coeliacs sufferers (at least according to coeliacs UK). However, some people are sensitive to even that tiny amount, so don’t get into an argument with me about how “it’s gluten free, stop trying to be special”. Coeliacs hurts. Badly.

If I ask for a gluten free alternative and you don’t know my medical history, there are better ways to take it than going “ugh, stupid dieting millenial”. You could, a) just get me a gluten free alternative (this happens a lot when eating at places that sell gluten free alternatives) or you could b) actually kindly ask for more information on why I need gluten free stuff. PLEASE, ASK IF YOU’RE UNSURE WHETHER I ACTUALLY NEED IT. I’D RATHER YOU ASKED THAN ME HAVING A REACTION.

And finally, yes, I’m fully entitled to complain about coeliacs. If you’re having a discussion that I can join in and complain about it, please please let me. Complaining is good, stops me from just getting annoyed.

Of course, all of the people who have no illnesses but think gluten free diets are cool are evil people. To all these gluten free dieters with no need to go gluten free: You are hurting me. You are hurting the people with gluten allergies, or who can’t have it for medical reasons. Shopping is a roulette of “is this actually gluten free, or is it a fake health food?”. I am so sick of having to put up with reactions from foods that turned out not t be gluten free because of you fucking fake dieters. Feel bad. You should feel disgusted with yourselves. And finally, if you’re perfectly healthy, a gluten free diet can actually deprive you of things your body needs.

That’s all.

101.2

Given everything today that number is incredible. I even stepped off, moved the scale, and reweighed, just to make sure it was right. Only gained .3 today.

Still going to probably fast tomorrow. I’ve got an early meeting at work and they usually provide some type of breakfast food so we’ll see what they have since free food is my weakness. I’ll make sure to limit myself if I do have anything. I’d love to be under 100 this week… Tomorrow is really my chance to make it happen.

anonymous asked:

you got me to ship shiro/matt, probably the most unpopular ship/biggest rarepair in the fandom i want to mcfucking die

>:3c

I think you’d be surprised!! There seems to be a lot of Shatt shippers out there… Y’all just don’t say anything lmfao.

The problem w Shatt is that we have so little to work off??? There’s maybe like… Three minutes, max, of solid interaction between them lmao. You can create only so many headcanons about their relationship pre-Kerberos before you start overlapping with other people. I suppose I can write some post-reunion headcanons though, lmao.

  • Because this is a kid’s cartoon, I’d like to imagine that the Voltsquad hears rumors of a rebellion on one of the Galra claimed planet so they show up to recruit allies, and surprise! Matt and Commander Holt are the badasses who have been organizing a planet-wide rebellion. Pidge is so proud of their family. Matt and Commander Holt are like “FUCK YEAH, THAT’S OUR KATIE.”
  • Lotsa happy tears from everyone. Pidge hugs their father and brother, and all three pull Shiro into the group hug because fuck it- Shiro is an honorary Holt family member. Hunk watches this reunion and tears up a lil (”This is so beautiful!!” he sobs) and he has to join them, Lance, this is an important team bonding moment!!! 
  • Lance, who is The Family Man, is like “Wow this reminds me of my own left behind family haha I’m tearing up except I’m not, scooch over jerks I’m joining this hug” and because he has an image to maintain he drags Keith in and. Crying family hugs. Found family. Everyone loves the Holts.
  • Okay sorry this is like really Gen, time to zoom in on Shiro and how he is the ULTIMATE Holt Family Stan™
  • Shiro would be like… insistent that Pidge gets all the time in the world to catch up with their missing family. Because Shiro has seen both sides to the Holt tragedy. 
    • He was with Matt and the Commander during their captivity, when they all thought they would die. Matt and the Commander told Shiro stories about Mrs. Holt and Pidge that lasted for hours. 
    • And after he was rescued, Shiro finally met Pidge and he saw how much Pidge missed their family, how much Pidge was hurting because of Zarkon.
  • So basically, Shiro LOVES it when the Holts are safe, and he wants to square up with Zarkon as soon as possible, Meet Me In The Pit @ Zarkon.
  • Shiro would be constantly checking up on the Holts, making sure they’re comfortable, that sort of thing. Matt and the Commander would have to recover from months of imprisonment, so they would probably have to spend a few weeks in the healing pods. Shiro and Pidge would visit every day, usually for hours on end. 
  • Sometimes Pidge/Shiro would sit in silence doing their own thing, sometimes they would talk to the pods the way you talk to coma patients, etc. It would just… Be their moment of peace and downtime.
  • The Commander would thank Shiro for protecting Matt in the gladiator ring and basically the two men would spend a couple hours crying together and validating the shit out of each other. And then the Commander would pat Shiro on the back and be like “You’re a good kid, Shiro. I’m glad to have you as a future son-in-law” and Shiro is like “lol, what?”
    • Commander Holt: Shiro, it took us months to get to Kerberos, and we were on a really small spaceship. Believe me when I say you and Matt weren’t that subtle with your flirting.
      Shiro:
      Commander Holt: Unless you’ve moved on, which is fine! Just… Let Matt know, please. I know he still cares about you. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.
      Shiro: 
      Commander Holt: … Shiro?
      Shiro: I gotta gay- gotta go talk to Matt. Um. I saw Pidge in the kitchen earlier? Bye, Commander Holt!
  • Shiro would like… subtly ask Allura/Coran if they could make some stops at planets that are known for their advanced tech, because he knows that Matt would get a kick out of it. Except Shiro never asks for anything, so within an hour EVERYONE knows that Shiro and Matt will be going on a date to a flea market on some random planet. And of course, word gets back to Matt before Shiro can actually ask him out lmao
    • Shiro: (nervously entering the room) Hey Matt, I was just wondering if you-
      Matt: (equally nervous) YES I WILL GO OUT WITH YOU!
      (awkward silence)
      Shiro: G-great? Okay! Thanks!
  • Shiro, later, to Pidge: WHY DID I SAY THANKS.
  • Back when they were prisoners together, Matt and Shiro would comfort each other with little ‘presents.’ An extra handful of food, a piece of cloth that could act as a bandage for whenever the guards got a little too rough, tiny but meaningful things like that. Now that they’re both free, Matt and Shiro basically gift each other with the most random shit.
    • It won’t even be useful things?? Shiro gives Matt half of a broken kids toy he found on some alien planet. Matt is touched.
      • Pidge: He literally just gave you garbage??
        Matt: It’s the emotion that gives the present a special meaning.
        Pidge: It smells.
        Matt: I’m a man in love Pidge, I see everything with rose-tinted glasses. Let me have this.
The Tokyo Ghoul animate cafe experience!!!

*WARNING VERY LARGE PHOTO POST AHEAD* This was our trip to the limited edition tokyo ghoul x animate cafe event! The cafe was about a 2 minute walk away from the animate store in Nagoya. Someone in the store even kindly took us all the way there (that’s japanese hospitality for you ><)
Outside the cafe:

and here is what’s available inside:

As soon as you walk in you’re greeted with a member of staff who shows you to your table. Just like Anteiku!

We decided on just drinks because food was quite expensive and didn’t look as exciting as the colourful beverages. When you order you get one free coaster per drink/food item. These are given out at random so many people order multiple items to get the coaster they want or even a full set. I got tsukiyama’s and yomo’s but swapped with my friend to get kaneki’s!
Here is the full set of coasters available (no hide though ;u;):

We ordered two of tsukiyama (because it was that good) and one of ayato, uta and kaneki.

Kaneki’s cappucino was very light and frothy. Loved the cute little chocolate mouth on the top!

Ayato’s drink was some kind of soda with the most intense grape ice cream I’ve ever tasted in my life.

Uta’s drink was cola flavoured with pomegranate and had little cranberries in it to look like eyeballs.

Tsukiyama’s drink was easily the most delicious (and the prettiest to look at). It had rose syrup and even a small rose on the top. Très bien!

In the background they had the blurays playing as well as the soundtrack/op ed to both season one and √a. They also had all the manga available to read. So you can have your coffee and food, watch tokyo ghoul, listen to tokyo ghoul and read tokyo ghoul all at the same time! (ノ・∀・)ノ

rize about to gently scramble your insides

There’s tv’s on both sides. Also it has to be said the blurays are SO MUCH NICER ;A;. Plus what’s animate without life size cutouts of all your favourite characters? Fyi: touka’s was tiny!

Here’s the merch I got in the cafe. A clear file, two coasters (given out with the drinks) two keyrings, a badge and adorable sugar cubes! The keyrings and bades are in silver package so you don’t know who you’ll get. Was very pleased to get Shuu and the very cute waiter Ayato! All of this stuff is limited edition and can only be found in the cafe.

They also had a guestbook which you could sign and this being an animate cafe, most people had drawn something. The level of talent was unbelievable! We also left a thank you saying how we came all the way from England, how much we enjoy tokyo ghoul, love kaneki and miss hide!

And that was our one day trip to the tokyo ghoul cafe. I wish I could have tried everything. If you are visiting Japan both Kobe and Nagoya’s animate cafes are holding the event until the end of this month. So don’t miss out!

ONE FINAL NOTE. LOOK HOW CUTE THE BATHROOMS ARE!!! ^0^

anonymous asked:

if you're not busy, may you write a jungkook highschool au please? thank you ♡

Originally posted by jinkooks

MAN HIGH SCHOOL AU’S ARE SO CUTE TO WRITE I DON’T EVEN FEEL BAD ANYMORE. There’ll definitely be a part 2, but I can’t promise much more besides that at this point.

Words: 1984

“Stop walking so fast!” You called after Taehyung, using your elbow to careen your way through the tightly packed halls. Taehyung wasn’t listening of course, as he had popped headphones into his ears and was probably looking for a loud song to drown out the voices. As you attempted to make your way towards him, you got elbowed harshly in the neck and had to take a step back against the wall.

“Are you okay? I…sorry…I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“Don’t even worry, this is a norm for short people. You wouldn’t underst-”

“(Y/N)! Why weren’t you walking with me? I thought you got drowned in the sea of people.” Taehyung appeared, cutting you off. He was wearing a concerned expression on his face. You sighed, not meeting your offenders eyes as you took Taehyung’s hand to escape the overly tight hallway.

Once you’d safely escaped the school, Taehyung and you began to walk towards the nearest fast food place. You’d made some money from your continuous baby sitting job that your mom hooked you up with, so you were obviously going to spend it on your best friend.

“Who was that kid you were talking too?” Taehyung asked, looking at you as he pulled a headphone from his ear to listen in. You took the headphone and placed it safely in your ear, and music streamed into your head. He had good taste, which is why you appreciated him not getting upset whenever you stole his iPod.

“Just some kid that hit me in the neck when he walked by. No big deal, though.” You reassured him, patting his hand sweetly. 

He nodded in return. “I didn’t see his face well enough.” Taehyung finished, opening the door to the joint and letting you in first.

After you got your orders and sat down, a pair of boys showed up at your table. You recognized one of their faces as Jimin, and the second boy was none other than the one who’d elbowed you in the neck.

“Is it okay that I invited them? They’re buying their own stuff, obviously.” Taehyung looked at you with wide eyes and a pout, giving you no choice but to say yes to him.

They collected their food and sat down, but you suddenly noticed how squished you were in the spacious table. The one that’d elbowed you in the neck sat right beside you, almost suffocating you by the closeness that was totally unnecessary. Did he come here with the intention to stab you in the neck with his other elbow, now?

“Do you know each other, (Y/N)? Jungkook?” Taehyung asked you first, but when you didn’t answer he looked to the other guy for answers.

“Y-”

“No.” You cut in, looking over at the black haired one with sudden irritation. You didn’t have any idea who he was, and for some reason whenever you looked at him danger signs popped up.

“Well,” Taehyung huffed slightly, leaning across the table to steal a hand full of fries from the one known as Jungkook. “That’s Jungkook and that’s Jimin, but (Y/N) knows Jiminie.”

“Mm, I know Jimin.” You responded, looking over and grinning at him. Jimin wasn’t listening very much, but he smiled back while stuffing his face full of his burger. You stuck the straw from your soft drink into your mouth and took a swig while Taehyung began to speak again.

“Jungkook’s a year younger than us, you know.”

You choked on your drink suddenly,  covering your mouth as if you were about to sputter all over the table. What did he say? A year younger?

Glancing over, Jungkook looked like he was suppressing a large amount of disgust for what you just did, but he soon looked away when he realized you were staring him down. Taehyung’s mouth hung open like he was catching flies, and Jimin laughed so hard he choked on his burger, too.

“A year younger? I thought he was graduating this year, that’s all…” You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you kept your eyes trained on your hands that sat in your lap uncomfortably.

“You have some Coca Cola on your cheek…” Jungkook placed a ratty piece of napkin on your cheek, wiping it away.

“It’s Pepsi…” You mumbled, pushing his hand away gently. He recoiled away from you, a whole new look of disgust written on his jagged features. His brows furrowed and upper lip curled in disgust.

“Ew, traitor…”

You turned at him, a feeling of anger building up for no apparent reason. “Oh, and let me guess. You’re one of those losers that think’s global warming isn’t real, right?”

“You’re blowing this totally out of proportion. Do you have some hidden beef with me?” He snapped back, crossing his arms across his broad chest, and Taehyung stuck a hand on your shoulder.

“No, never. I have no idea who you are, so why would I have a problem with you? Oh, look at the time, I need to go home. See you guys later…”

You didn’t even look at the clock as you got up and walked off. Not even looking behind you as Taehyung called after you, you waved awkwardly. Strangely enough, you were very aware of the eyes glued to the back of your head. Once you exited the fast food restaurant, a hand firmly took hold of your wrist.

“Look, Tae really…I have to-”

“I already apologized for hitting you in the neck. Did it really hurt that bad?” It was Jungkook. You didn’t respond to him for some reason, and yanked free your wrist from his seemingly firm grip. The muscles this 10th grader had was incredible.

“You’re ignoring me now, too? What’s wrong with you?” He was annoyed, it was apparent in the way his tone raised so high pitched. It sounded like he was attempting to break a glass singing opera.

“Shouldn’t you be speaking nicer to someone whose older than you?” You barked at him, moving your legs quickly towards the end of the street. Jungkook kept up with you easily, and he met your vision every time you looked to your left.

“Whens your birthday? I bet we’re not even a year apart.”

“You don’t need to know, you little weirdo.” You held up a fist at him, and he momentarily flinched away. Jungkook wore a grin on his face, so you knew he wasn’t very intimidated when you did that. That only made you feel more embarrassed.

“Little? Look at yourself! I bet everyone walking by think’s I’m your older brother.”

You looked at the person nearest to you, determined to prove him absolutely wrong. Jungkook was enjoying getting on your nerves, and you couldn’t help but be egged on my him. You took him by the wrist and dragged him to an elderly women waiting for the light to change on the street.

“Excuse me miss? Can you tell me how old both of us look?”

She looked up at you with tired eyes, inspecting the both of your faces. Obviously an elderly women could tell people’s true ages, no matter their heights or facial features?

“Oh my, your parent’s must be so happy with how you both turned out, fine young adults.” She began, ignoring your question. You clicked your tongue in distaste by accident, and Jungkook snickered.

“I hope you’re taking care of your sister, dear. She looks a little frail, why don’t you feed her some more protein?”

“I’m taking care of her fine.” Jungkook promised, looking over at you with blazing eyes. His enjoyment was too obvious, so you stomped on his foot.

“Okay, never mind. Thank you, have a nice day.” You let go of Jungkook’s wrist, walking off and not looking back this time. Your house was in this direction, anyway. Wait, what if he followed you? Did you really want this kid to know where you lived?

“Hey wait up, (Y/N)! Let’s go home together.” Jungkook called after you in a sing-song voice, making you break out into a run.

“No way am I going to let you know where I live, loser!” You shouted back, looking behind you for a split second.

In that split second you ran into something and tripped over your own feet.

You landed on your knee’s and skidded. It wasn’t too bad, but you were sure your legs would be ruined, now.

“Crap, crap, crap.” You whined, looking down at the palms of your hands. They were scraped and bloody, but just barely. The thing you noticed most was the itching burn the pavement had left behind.

“Your skirt’s up.” Jungkook commented, and you immediately shoved it down. No way, he was right. You’d just flashed the entire street of oncoming traffic your undies, not to mention the kid you had a strange distaste for had spotted them as well.

“Do you need help up?”

“Go away.” You snapped, hoisting yourself to your feet. Jungkook turned you to him and got a good look at your hands despite your effort’s to hide them behind your back.

Your cheeks felt so hot you thought they’d melt right off your skull, but unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility. You’d do anything to disappear right in this very moment, without a trace left from this planet. Jungkook wasn’t grinning like you thought he was, but obviously he was thinking about them. There was no way he wasn’t going to get tell all his little friends about them tomorrow. Oh, no. You were going to be the laughing stock at school.

“Ouch, your leg’s bleeding pretty bad. Why are short people so clumsy? I thought you had less of a way to fall, too. Come on, why aren’t you moving?” He kept poking at your shoulder, but you felt as stiff as a board. Maybe if you pretended to be a tree, he’d go away. You felt so humiliated you could cry, but you wouldn’t. No way would you give him the benefit to make fun of you more.

Why wasn’t he saying anything about them, though? You thought he was definitely like that. Instead, Jungkook stared down at your hands, brushing away any debris and dirt stuck to it.

“Let’s go sit down. Hey, come on. Do I have to drag you? Your leg is still bleeding! I have band-aids.” 

You nodded up and down twice, letting him pull you over to a nearby staircase leading back to the fast food restaurant. Once you sat down, Jungkook pulled his bag off of his back and pulled out a small little bandage. He let them hang from two fingers, and suddenly the one band-aid had multiplied by at least 7.

“Are you some sort of nerd?” You blurted out, obediently holding out your hands as he patched them up. Jungkook didn’t look up at you, but he was wearing a clear smile on his face while he worked diligently on stopping the light bleeding.

“Yeah, you could say that. When you get home you’re going to have to wash them out. Here, I’ll give you some more to use, okay? Put some cream on your leg, but your hands should be fine by tomorrow-there, done.”

You felt even stiffer than before. Your hands were covered in small band-aid’s, as well as your knee cap. The burning had gone down to only a small amount, so you didn’t see why it was such a big deal.

“Okay, thanks I guess.” You stood up, and Jungkook snaked his backpack straps onto either shoulder.

Awkward silence hung in the air.

Both of you shuffled past each other, holding up hands as if signaling your departure, before he turned and ran off. The way he ran definitely made him look his age, at least. From his back angle, Jungkook looked like a normal kid to you.

anonymous asked:

An imagine where the TC and student accidentally get locked in the school together after they were both working late!! Can be a lil christmassy as well to get in the spirit of things ;)

oOoooO bless up for christmas imagines they’re my fave yes

“Finally finished!” you looked up to [TC] with a bright grin on your face. “Same here! Thank you for staying after school the day before winter break with me to grade [YN].” They took the scantrons from you, placing it on their desk. “It’s no big deal, wouldn’t want you to stick around too late by yourself doing all the work.” you gave them a thumbs up. “We’re still getting out late anyways, it’s already 8. I’ll give you a lift kiddo.” they offered. You blushed, after being alone with [TC] for hours you were about to ride in their car with them. “Well thank you.” you picked up your stuff, following them out of the class. You had small talk as you went down to the main entrance to leave.
“All the lights are already dimmed, it’s weird seeing the school this empty.” You spoke as you got to the doors. “Yeah, it is weird.” [TC] pulled on the door. “Huh?” they looked at the door, seeing that it wouldn’t open. “That’s strange…” They pulled the other door. “Oh dear.” they looked at you, their face falling. “Maybe there’s some other door open?” you tried to stay optimistic.
You and [TC] ran around the entire school, with no success of being able to exit out of any door. And it seemed to be that no one else was left in the building. “Oh god oh god oh god.” You panicked, pacing back in their classroom as they had directed you to. “Hey now don’t freak out [YN], I’ll call the principal to see if they can stop by and open the doors, alright?” they grasped your shoulder gently. “A-alright.” you let out a hefty sigh. Their touch always seemed to sooth you. They let you take their comfy chair as they stepped out to call the principal.
“So?” you questioned, watching them walk back in fifteen minutes later. “So um…” they let out a frustrated sigh. “We’re stuck here. The principal went out of town for the break, and they tried to contact the janitor but they won’t be back til tomorrow.” [TC] ran a hand through their hair. “Oh my god. You got to be joking.” part of you was secretly happy. You had to spend a night with your teacher crush. But the other part was screaming because you had to spend a night with your teacher crush at school. “What am I supposed to say to my parents oh my god.” you panicked, hugging your knees. “They said they’ll handle it, so please don’t freak out. Feel free to call them to let them know you’re okay though.” they approached you, kneeling next to you. “I’ll go to the drama room and pick up some blankets and sheets and such to sleep on okay? Please don’t panic, it’ll be alright.” they wrapped an arm around you gently. You gave them a little nod as a response.
Ten minutes later, they returned with a plethora of blankets, sheets, and even a few pillows. You had just ended the call with your parents, who were worried but didn’t know what to do, so they had let it slide. “I assumed that you might get hungry, so I bought a few things from the teacher lounge vending machine. And being the last day before break, I got a few food gifts from students so feel free to take any of those.” they said as you both laid out a few sheets to lay on. “You’re always thinking ahead [TC].” you couldn’t help but smile at how thoughtful they were when it came to you. “And I even thought of some movies to watch to pass time, since I’m sure it’ll be awhile until we’ll be able to fall asleep.” they had a child-like grin on their face.
You had watched two movies before growing quiet. Throughout those two movies you had focused on talking with [TC] on just about anything. You spoke about your lives, school, future plans, and so on. You both learned a lot about each other, making you smile the entire time. And it seemed that [TC] enjoyed themselves as well, as they noted that their cheeks slightly hurt from smiling so much. They never had an admiration for a student like this before as they said, and you just could not contain the excitement as you revealed that you really appreciated them.
When the third movie had played, you both settled in a comfortable silence, and actually focused on the movie a tad. It was about half way when you had became drowsy. Your eyes heavy, you started to slump to the side. “You tired?” [TC] whispered. “A-a little.” you confessed. They moved the laptop from in between you, and closed the space between you two. “You can lean on me if you want, I don’t mind.” they offered, placing the laptop on their lap. “No it’s fi-“ “I insist [YN].” they gently pulled your head, placing it on their arm. They slumped down slightly, so your head rested comfortably on their shoulder. “Are you sure you’re comfortable like this?” the nervousness in your voice made them smile. “Actually,” they put an arm around you, “This is more like it.” they responded. Oh god how am I gonna fall asleep now? you mentally panicked. You looked up to them, a satisfied look on their face. Maybe this isn’t too bad, you thought, letting out a soft sigh and making yourself comfortable with your head tucked under theirs.
At the end of the movie, you both decided it was a good idea to sleep. Without really saying a word, you cuddled up, already being so cozy while watching the movie. “Good night [TC].” you murmured, already about to knock out. A warm sensation tingled on your forehead. “Good night [YN].” they whispered back. You smiled, then fell into a deep sleep.