because life is not all about football

Recommended Reads of 2016

(in which I realize how horrible I am at describing books)

As 2016 draws to a close, I decided to make a list of ten of my favorite books I read this year (not necessarily books published in 2016 though).  I hope you all appreciate this, and I’d love to know what books you loved this year as well!

In no particular order:

1. The Start of Me and You by Emery Lord: This was one of the first books I read this year, and it was so adorable I just had to put it on this list.  It’s about a girl whose first and only boyfriend died, so she is now living her life with a lot more caution.  Basically, it just chronicles how she copes with this and lives her life (I’m so sorry that was a horrible synopsis haha).   By no means was the writing beautiful, and there were plenty of cringe-worthy moments, but it was just a nice and (mostly) fluffy read.  All the references to literature (specifically to Pride and Prejudice) made my nerdy heart happy.  Also, I am such a sucker for a cute nerdy guy (both in books and real life, haha–honestly, if you know of a good book with this kind of guy, let me know) so I understandably loved Max.

2. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen: The Start of Me and You was actually what convinced me to finally read this classic, and boy am I glad I did!!! Honestly, I’m so obsessed with this story (which I don’t think I need to summarize).  Like, this obsession is unhealthy.  I’ve only read the book once, but I’ve watched the miniseries like three times this year and the movie (from 2005, obviously) probably (and I am not even kidding) 20 or 30 times this year.  Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen (if you’re as in love with him as I am, you HAVE to listen to him reading some of Pride and Prejudice – I want him to narrate my life omg) are literally my faves fajkldjgaoi I AM OBSESSED AAH.  But I digress, because this is about books.  Basically I love it.

3. First & Then by Emma Mills: Okay so this is a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice (are you noticing a theme?? – I could literally read/watch nothing but P&P adaptations for the rest of my life and be perfectly content).  As the blurb on Goodreads said, it’s like Pride and Prejudice meets Friday Night Lights.  Basically, it follows this girl named Devon and the football star, Ezra.  I’m so obsessed that I completely ignored my complete and utter abomination for all sports in order to enjoy the P&P aspect and it was so cute I finished it in less than a day.  

4. Winter by Marissa Meyer: I loved the entire Lunar Chronicles series, but this one was my favorite.  Basically, the series is a sort of sci-fi/dystopian fairy tale retelling with cyborgs and space travel and I really enjoyed it .  Also, the cover??? Amazing.

5. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: This is a well-known classic, so I’ll spare you the details, but it was just so good (and it’s nice and short if that’s something that interests you) and so scarily accurate for a dystopian novel.

6. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: Again, a well-known classic about racism and basic human morality in a southern town during the Great Depression.  I have nothing to say that you haven’t heard before, so I’ll just say: it was absolutely wonderful.

7. Paperweight by Meg Haston: I want to preface this by saying it heavily discusses eating disorders, so that is something to be mindful of. It was such a raw and captivating story and I felt it handled the topic well.  I really felt for the characters.  The story was sad and disheartening (an intrinsic quality when it comes to mental illness) but I just felt Haston did a really amazing job with it.

8. Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon: This book is about a girl with an illness so severe she can’t leave her own home.  It follows her life as she becomes interested in her new neighbor (I am blowing myself away with my horrible synopses hahaha - if you really want to know, click the book titles to go to their respective Goodreads pages).  It was a really interesting story that I flew right through.

9. The Sun is Also a Star by Nicola Yoon: I know I’ve mentioned this one before, but I’ll do it again.  It’s about a Jamaican girl whose family is about to be deported and a Korean boy who doesn’t want to follow the plan his parents have set out for them.  They spend a day together in New York City and it’s pretty great.  I loved the little in-between perspectives we got and the blend of science and romance/fate/destiny kind of stuff.  I loved it!!

10. The Memory of Light by Francisco X. Stork: This is another book about mental illness – specifically depression, suicidal thoughts, and schizophrenia.  It’s about a girl who, after attempting suicide, gets to know three other kids with problems like hers.  It didn’t romanticize mental illness or sugarcoat anything, and it made me cry (and I don’t cry often at books) but it was a really captivating story.  

There you have it, folks! My top ten from 2016.  I sincerely wish you all a wonderful 2017 filled with happiness, love, and new memories!!! I love you all! 

anonymous asked:

Hi !!!! First of all i love your blog and your writing !!! Do you have any headcanons for isak talking to even about his family and life at home when he was younger? I'm a sucker for h/c so that'd be great !! Hope you're having a lovely day 💝

  • it’s the nicest things Isak remembers that are the hardest to share, because everything feels a little bit tainted by how violently it all fell apart
    • he’ll be sharing a fun memory of the day the football team he played on age 8 won their championship and his parents took him for pizza and let him babble about the two (two!!!!) goals he scored and then his voice will trail off and Even just pulls him closer and kisses his forehead and says that maybe one day they’ll all be having dinner praising Isak on his university grades rather than the goals he scored
    • Isak particularly struggles talking about his mother, because even though he’s learned a lot about mental illness he still feels such a disconnect between his mother he remembers from his childhood and his mother now. talking about her before she really got ill always make him a little teary eyed, but Even always wipes those tears away
      • Isak mostly feels bad about how harshly he judged his mother, how harshly he still does sometimes judge her, for something she can’t control but hurts him so much.
      • Even always squirms a bit when Isak admits this, because he knows he himself has caused Isak pain with his illness through no fault of his own and it places him in the uncomfortable position of empathising with Isak’s mother and feeling incredibly bad for Isak
      • talking about Isak’s mother inevitably leads to them having a brief talk about their own mental health, about how they’ll look after each other through the ups and downs and sideways and whatever else life throws at them because neither of them could just leave the other like Isak’s dad left his wife
  • Isak doesn’t have a lot of memories of his dad, but all of them leave a bitter taste in both Isak and Even’s mouths because neither of them are particularly fond of Terje Valtersen
  • a lot of the time Isak doesn’t need to talk for Even to see the impact his childhood had on him
    • the first time they had a proper fight and Even rose his voice he watched the way Isak immediately switched off. the lights were on but no one was home. after that Even made sure to keep his voice level during arguments so they can talk it out rather than set off Isak’s hard wired self preservation instinct.
    • their upstairs neighbours quite often have screaming matches and Even hates it because Isak almost always ends up in their bed with the pillow jammed over his head.
      • he starts off putting his music on and playing it so loud that Even can hear the earbuds crackling a little, but their neighbours seem to shout at a trillion decibels
      • Even doesn’t want his boyfriend to go deaf though, so he always removes the earphones and Isak goes straight for the bed. it isn’t a question that Even will follow. he wraps Isak in their duvet in safe cosy little boyfriend burrito and tries to distract Isak through the noise
      • after the first couple of times when Even realised this was going to be a regular occurrence he saved up some money and bought Isak noise cancelling headphones (Isak was very grateful for those)
  • there are times when Isak will tell Even something and Even is the one to get upset, because it isn’t fair that Isak had to deal with so much so young
    • Isak just shakes his head and tells Even that he’d do it all over again - living in Eskild’s basement and all - if it meant it lead him to that moment right then lying in Even’s arms trading secrets and kisses and feeling safer than he ever has in his entire life

Requested by anonymous

It was safe to say you weren’t anything like your adoptive siblings. You weren’t as popular, you didn’t care much about football or cheerleading. Not to mention you were dating Jughead Jones. Despite all this you loved Jason and Cheryl so when Jason died you were devastated.

“He didn’t even get to live a full life” you said to Jughead as you looked through an old photo album. Tears fell down your face as you found picture of you and Jason laughing and smiling together.

Jughead didn’t say anything, probably because he didn’t know what to say but him at least being here with you was helpful.

“I know Jason wasn’t the nicest guy but…”.

“He didn’t deserve what happened to him” Jughead assured “you didn’t deserve this either. [Y/N] I’m sorry but i’ll be here if you ever need anything”.


((I don’t even know what to say here, if I’m completely honest.  It might seem like a lot of rambling as I go forward.  I haven’t really had a moment to take it all in yet.  But death is a weird thing for me and it just hasn’t hit me fully until now.  You can ask me on my mod blog about it.

@askrustynail is one hell of a guy.  That must be said.  It cannot go unsaid.  Rusty is one of the very few that have been around as long as I have in this community.  And he is without a doubt deserving of a place on the Mount Rushmore of Tumblrpon.  Not only for his unique blog and his fun character, which is how we were introduced to him.  But for his kindness, his brilliance, his giving spirit.  That is what I and anyone who’s met him in person will take away from him.

I first met him at Trotcon 2013.  It was where I got my first jar of honey vanilla vodka from him.  It wouldn’t be the last jar I would get either.  I will fully admit that it wasn’t my favorite drink.  I did sample it from time to time, but I enjoyed sharing it with friends just as much.  I took the jar I got at Bronycon ‘15 to an Illini tailgate and shared it with my college buddies there.  Daniel said it was one of the best drinks he’s ever had in his life.

I still have the jar he gave me at Trotcon last year.  I plan on sharing it with everyone when we get back together this year, in a toast and tribute to him.

Rusty is a genius at mixing drinks.  He helped Wiggles and I out immensely during King Pirate Power Hour at Trotcon last year, serving as the unofficial bartender for the panel.  He got me to sample a drink that was basically hot sauce with alcohol in it.  It took me by surprise, but it was good.  He made that panel a lot more fun.

Rusty is hilarious too, and is outstanding at dishing out puns.  I know all you guys think I’m really good at it (for some reason), but Rusty was a pro at it.  During Punanel last year with Sam, I invited Rusty to come on it.  He stole the show for that hour and had people roaring with laughter.

Most of all, Rusty has a kind heart and spirit.  He’s always willing to help people out.  He’s always able to sense when people are in trouble or stressed and give them a calming presence.  And you could talk to him about anything too.  One of the last times we chatted in person, Rusty and I were talking about public radio and what I could try to do to get our station’s name out there more.

It’s going to suck to go to Trotcon or Bronycon this year, and not see him there.  There’s going to be an empty feeling, and everyone is going to wish he was with us for one more round or one more conversation.

I know this is going to sound cliche, but we can’t take life for granted.  Rusty is only one year older than me, and he’s not going to be with us anymore.  That’s just not fair.  He was taken too young from us.  I know I’m going to try and make a better effort to reach out to friends old and new, because I wish I had chatted with him more outside of conventions.  We should all strive to live life like he did.

And my heart goes out to @technomod.  It’s not fair for Rusty and Tech didn’t get to live the rest of their lives together.  We’re all thinking about you and want to help you in anyway possible.

So here’s to a last call with Rusty.  I’ll miss you good sir.  I’ll see you on the other side for drinks and arguments over football.))

Hi guys! So recently I just reached 530 followers, which is MANY considering I don’t really contribute that much to either football (real madrid especially) or F1. I never even thought of turning this blog into football and F1 only theme, let alone reaching that number of followers. It’s pretty crazy :)

I made this blog back in 2012 for a couple of reasons: 1) I found out that one of my classmates got this thing called tumblr. I checked them out to see what’s this tumblr is all about and just randomly decided maybe I should made one too, 2)  I want to keep updated with Legend of Korra but then I was surprised with the amount of meme this fandom makes lmao (the meme is the reason why I stay), 3) Kimi made his comeback to F1 that year, then I was curious; does tumblr also have F1 fans here? Oh boy was I even surprised

Hmm… what else, what else. Most of you probably didn’t even know who I am since I don’t really interact with most of the people I follow here. Well, I did interact with some (2-3 people I think? Oh but there’s this one time when one of you mentioning my name in the tag, I was so surprised ‘someone actually know my name!’) and that’s it. Me and my introverted ass doesn’t really know the concept of starting a conversation lol (Ironically my major is communication. Welp. Mistakes happen). 

But I really, really want to thank you all of my mutuals who still follow me through my incoherent rants, many spams, and my annoying ‘ sometimes I forgot how to english’ commentary. This is why I want to make this follow forever post, to thank you for making my experience as a football and F1 fan more fun, also to let you know that I love seeing your post on my dash :)

Here’s for more memes, bantering and shit-posting!  🍻

Ah, I feel like I’m forgetting some of you. Well then, shout out to you wonderful people! You know who you are :)

Have a good day everyone!

Keep reading


“Captain, teammate, friend, machine…

Who knew this day would come. 17 seasons with the first team. 17 years passed too soon, Xavi. We know that getting there isn’t easy, but the trick is to always stay up, just as you did.

I don’t think any of us can imagine the first day of training next season without you among us.

You, who has always welcomed the new players with a smile and a word of encouragement. Who has explained the responsibility that comes with wearing this shirt and defending this crest. The football world thanks you for all that you’ve given, which is so much. We give you thanks for being an example to all.

Thank you for always putting the team first, before yourself.

Thank you for conveying all of the values that you’ve learned in the 24 years you’ve been at this club.

Thank you for all of your advice, which has always been incredible and authentic lessons about football and life for us.

Thank you, because you’ve always been the voice of experience in our dressing room. The player that has given us the historical memory necessary for us to value what we’ve achieved together.

You’ve lived through criticism and praise, good and bad moments. Thank you Xavi, because you’ve made us stronger. Any culé knows you’ve defended the Barça shirt more times than anyone else, and whenever you did, it was with all of your passion and your love.

All of us who know you know that you’ll be back, because this is your home. Because you have a Catalan heart and soul and blaugrana in your blood. The reality has exceeded your dreams, and now you have time to evaluate everything you’ve got. Your family, your friends, the people you have always accompanied in football, and certainly today, I remember your grandfather - more culé than the flag. If he was here today, he would be so happy and proud to see all of this.

Personally, I would like to thank you for all these years - not just for the magical moments, but for the day to day, for how much you’ve helped me, and all of the talks that we’ve had about things that are not about football. For being able to play together or apart. For being my teacher. It’s been a privilege to be by your side. You are great.

Thank you Xavi, for all you’ve done for this club and all you still have left to give. You will always be with us, my friend.”

- Andres Iniesta

here’s what it is though: archie spends the whole episode trying to help his dad through his financial trouble. He literally says “I want to pull my weight around here”. he wants to take on exactly half of this burden that they’re sharing  – he wants to take on responsibility equal to what Fred, an adult, has on his plate. He wants to take on the responsibility of an adult.

Fred all episode is trying to quash this – he tells archie not to worry because they’ve both done all they can, he hangs the phone up when archie comes in the room and tells him “it’s all good”, he’s super reluctant to open up to Archie about the problems and then to accept archie’s help, his “it was never supposed to get this bad” has clear undertones of “you were never supposed to have to worry about this”. Fred recognizes that Archie’s just a kid and shouldn’t at all ever have to deal with this sort of thing.

His line when Archie shows up at the site: “isn’t there something more important you need to be doing? Like going to school? Playing football?” is super agonizing because these are kid things in episode one we saw a Fred who was pushing Archie really hard to do adult things – not to figure out their livelihood, obviously, but to look to the future, to scholarships, to colleges, to make adult choices right away. To make a choice about what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, in particular, which involved the work he did at the construction site all summer.

So when he’s reluctant to let Archie and Moose and everyone work for him he’s sending Archie away from adulthood as well as the construction site, back to football and back to his education and back to the things that make sense in a 15 year old’s world. He’s really recognizing that Archie is a KID, and that these aren’t things he should have to be dealing with.

And I think when he says “I’m trying to build a safe life for you and the jury’s still out on that” he’s definitely thinking about Grundy. Grundy and the construction site are linked – she pulls up when he’s walking home from work, remember – and they’re both things that have Archie interacting with adulthood when he’s 15 years old and shouldn’t have to at all. And it makes me wonder how much guilt Fred has about pushing adulthood on him at the start of the year and it’s interesting to see how it’s progressed. And by interesting I mean it feels like im swallowing glass sometimes. this got really long. I’m sad. 


Harry is late. Not by his own standards – he doesn’t want to go – but Louis is stood between their two front doors with a beer in his hand and a set to his jaw and eyebrows that won’t hold for long. Not enough chill in his eyes to freeze Harry in place on the last step up.

“You said you wouldn’t be late,” he says – hands over the beer along with a gaze that’s too tinted with alcohol to carry any of the disappointment he’s trying to feign.

“I said I’d come,” Harry corrects, shaking his head at his shoes as he tugs his keys out of his front pocket – opens his door and throws his bag inside before he locks it up again. “You know how work is right now – that I have to get the episode written.”

Louis hums – suspicion melting away under the warm familiarity of a grin. Harry’s best friend since childhood, ever so happy to have him near. Mutual, all of it, as Harry takes a first sip of his beer and lets it loosen knots of anxiety in his shoulders. He’s home, now. Doesn’t have to think about pairings and heartbreak until they’re back in the writer’s room on Monday.

“What’s so urgent, anyway?” he wonders. “I’m here now.”

“A boy, of course,” Louis states, ever the hopeless romantic, the cupid that’s too drunk to aim his arrows right when Harry’s out and about. “I’ve told you about him.”

“You haven’t.”

“I’ve meant to,” Louis promises. Loops an arm around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him to the neighbouring flat. “He’ll sweep you off your feet.”

Keep reading

I’m Always Here

(Miniminter X Reader)
Imagine Simon breaking down and you being there for him.

A/N: For anyone who has a crush on a certain Sideman… (Simon) ;)

Pairing: Simon/Miniminter X Reader

Warning: Just some cute fluff

Just a little guideline before we start:
Y/N = Your Name
L/N = Your Last Name
Y/YT/N = Your YouTube Name
Y/C/N = Your Country Name

You and Simon had been best friends since childhood. Ever since you saved him from a certain bully, he had always been eternally grateful. You both met at your school’s disco and hit it right off. The love of video games and football really got you two going.

And now it’s 14 years later.

Simon had become very focused on his YouTube career with 5 million fangirls/fanboys watching his daily life. But along with his YouTube career, you had been fulfilling your own. With 11 million fans watching your videos and have subscribed, you became one of the best YouTube vloggers the fans had ever seen.

Your channel, Y/YT/N was all about you talking about the fangirl world. You were known as the Fangirl of YouTube. This caused so many people to subscribe because of how relatable and funny you were.

And that is what brings us here today. Your launch party. Introducing your own “Fangirl Magazine.” This was a magazine you had created for mainly the fangirls and fanboys of the world. So they could have a piece of you that isn’t on a screen. It was just like your videos coming to life but in a magazine.

All your YouTube friends under the same roof together is insane. Especially if Tyler Oakley was there. He flew in all the way from America to Y/C/N (Soz if you live in America, Lol) just to see you. Talk about an awesome friend.

You, Tyler and Zoe were right next to the buffet that was filled with your favourite foods and snacks. Everyone seemed to be here. Everyone but…

“Simon.” You say through the phone. “Where are you?”

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I really am. It’s just that… It’s mine and Courtney’s anniversary today. And I wanted to spend my time with her.”

“But… You know you could just do that tomorrow. The launch party is a one-time thing.” You sigh.

“Y/N… Courtney is so-”

You hang up before you can hear anything else. Tyler and Zoe pat your back for moral support.

“Was that Simon?” Zoe asks.

You nod and sniff.

“Couldn’t make it?” Tyler asks.

You sigh. “I just don’t get it! He’s always with that girl! And he can’t even make time for his best friend?! You came here all the way from America, Tyler. And yet, Simon is literally in the same country as I am, but he isn’t even here!”

“Y/N,” Zoe says sympathetically. “Don’t let him ruin your night. Just the fact that most of us are here is great! Simon is just a small part of your life.”

It actually hurt you a bit to hear that from Zoe. She knew you liked Simon. As in, like like. Ever since Primary school, you fell in love. Although, you didn’t know it was love until you were 11. The way Simon’s eyes sparkle every time he looks at you. The way he smiles when you see him at his best with the other Sidemen. It just made you feel warm inside. Seeing Simon with another girl was painful. And it hurt, even more, to hear that Zoe thinks he’s just a small part of your life.

It was as if Zoe was reading your mind.

“Oh… Shit… Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s alright.” You sigh. “You’re probably right anyways. Let’s just enjoy the party while it lasts.” You put on a fake and genuine smile.

~~~~~~~(Time Skip)~~~~~~~

You are sitting on the couch, scrolling through your Twitter when your phone starts ringing.

Simon <3 Your phone screen lights up. You are hesitant at first but pick it up nonetheless.

Y/N: Hello?

Simon: Y/N? Are you okay?

Y/N: Well, other than the fact that my best friend missed one of the most important days of my life… I’m great

Simon: I take it you’re mad

Y/N: You are correct

Simon: Look Y/N, I really am sorry. It’s just, Courtney was so excited for our anniversary and I couldn’t let her down.

Y/N: And you were willing to let me down?

Simon: Y/N-

Y/N: I get it, I get it… She’s important to you. Just… enjoy your anniversary.

Simon: Y/N-

And you hang up. You didn’t let him explain. He didn’t need to. You knew everything. Courtney was more important to him. If he wasn’t hanging out with Courtney, he’d be working on videos. So there was never any time for you. You hardly saw him. The last time was a few months ago at Vidcon. Which was his very first Vidcon. The next time was going to be your launch party, but of course, he didn’t show up. You were starting to question the fact that if he was still your best friend.

1 month later:

“Simon!” You laugh as you clutch your sides, trying to get away from him.

“Come back here!” He laughs.

You make a sharp turn towards your bedroom and quickly hide under the bed.

You hear footsteps enter your room and the cold Autumn breeze makes the curtain swing slightly.

“Y/N.” Simon speaks softly. “I know you’re in here.”

You cover your mouth with your hand to try and quieten your breathing.

A small creak comes from your closest.

Simon must have checked the closet.

“Y/N.” He says again.

Suddenly, you feel a big hand wrap around your ankle and pull you out from under the bed.

“Gotcha!” Simon bends down and starts tickling your sides.

“No… Simon… Pl… Please!” You say between your laughs.

*Ring ring

Simon’s phone saves you as he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen.

You stand up, wipe your sleeves and pat down your clothes.

There is a loud smashing sound from the kitchen and you immediately run towards it. Just like instinct.

“Simon!” You call out, running towards the kitchen.

And there he sits. In the corner of your kitchen floor. Knees against his chest, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself the words “it’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be fine.”

Slowly, you make your way towards Simon and wrap your arms around him.

“Hey.” You say softly. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. Just tell me what happened.”

Simon sobs onto your shirt as you hug him tightly. Not wanting to let your best friend suffer on what he was told.

“Sh-She…” He stumbles.

“Okay… Shhh.” You say, letting him go. “Take a deep breath while I go get you some water.”

You stand up slowly and turn around, before you feel an arm wrap around your wrist. You turn around and see Simon, eyes red, tear stained face, looking completely vulnerable in his position. Simon never looked vulnerable. He always seemed strong and brave. The complete opposite on what he is right now.

“Y-Y/N… Please don’t leave me.”

You smile sadly and bend down to his level, wrapping your arms around him.

“Never. Now… Can you tell me what happened?”

He takes a deep breath. “M-my mum. Sh-she’s in the hospital.”

Your eyes widen.

“Is she okay?”

“N-no.” He replies. “She had a heart attack and they’re trying to recover her. Y/N… Please don’t leave me. I won’t know what to do if my mum dies. Everyone I care about has left me… And, I can’t afford to lose you too.”

“Hey, Simon.” You say, taking his chin and turing it so he is staring directly at you. “I am never going to leave you… Ever. I’m always here for you. I care about you so much, you don’t even understand. I was there when your dad left, I was there when Courtney left. And I will be here if anyone else leaves. Even if the whole world is against you, I will never leave you. Because I am your best friend. Whether you like that or not.” You smile slightly.

Hearing those words brings a smile upon Simon’s face. And he pulls you in for an unexpected kiss.

His lips are soft and warm. Slightly wet from his tears. But the best lips you had ever felt. You’ve always imagined what his lips would feel like against yours, but this is even better than what you imagined.

He kisses you with so much love and passion. And butterflies explode in your stomach.

Is this what love feels like?  You think.

Simon truly cares for you. He really loves you. And there is no words needed to know that he loves you. Because it’s just you and him against the world. Sure, there will be hate. But that doesn’t matter.

As long as you have each other, everything will be fine.

Dear young girls,
Stop getting angry if he didn’t notice your new haircut. Get angry if he didn’t notice you. Stop getting angry if he didn’t remember your birthday. Get angry if he didn’t remember to say he loves you. Don’t get angry if he watches TV all day. Get angry if he watches other girls.
Don’t get angry about small things like these because it is just not in his nature to understand how important your new top or new bag is just like it is not in yours to notice how important a single team member change of his favorite football team is to him.
We love different things but what is important is that two people must love each other.
—  Yours truly
What I Wish I’d Known Freshman Year (a.k.a. How to Survive Your First Year of High School)

I’ve been thinking about making this post for a while now and have gotten some asks about freshman year so without further ado, here it is. Freshman year considered the worst year of high school by most. You’re young, nervous, and stuck in this big new building with big and ‘scary’ upperclassmen and have probably heard all these rumors and stories about the teachers and how hard they are. It’s definitely a confusing time but fear not, it’s not as bad as it seems!

  • Grades matter but it’s not life and death. Grades are important. Most colleges only look at your GPA from grades 9-11 and possibly first semester senior year so you’re looking at freshman year grades being worth as much as 33% of the GPAs colleges see. That’s a lot. So please don’t take grades as a joke and not study/not take things seriously. You could jeopardize your college chances or make it really difficult to rebound. With that being said, it’s ok to get a B or two and to struggle a bit. You’re getting used to a new schedule and a new class rigor so some stumbling is to be expected. Just don’t dig yourself into a hole you won’t be able to get out of. Show up to class on time, do your homework, take notes, study hard for tests, and ask for help if you need it.
  • Be nice to your teachers. There’s this idea that if you get along with your teachers you’ll be ostracized as the teacher’s pet. That is not true (and anyone who thinks that has no idea what they’re saying). Being the “teacher’s pet” or nice to teachers isn’t a bad thing. See, freshman year teachers are stuck having classes full of squirrely and immature 14 year olds who make their life difficult. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was one student in the class who was nice to them and appreciated what they do? If you’re nice to your teachers, they’re much more likely to be more lenient with you if you have some outside issues that affect your school work, they’ll be eager to help you, and you’ll do much better in the class. Most teachers are smart, kind, and interesting people that are definitely worth knowing. I can’t tell you how much it’s helped me during high school that I was friends with my French teacher from freshman year and my junior and senior year English teacher who helped me with my college apps and valedictorian speech. You’ll benefit more than you know.
  • Make a friend in every class. Because you’re just starting out, you most likely won’t know that many people. There’s nothing worse than the feeling of having to choose partners for a project or activity and you don’t know anybody. Thus, you should make an effort to get to know a person in each one of your classes. It’s a good way to make new friends and they’ll be super helpful if you miss a day and need to get the homework. I met one of my best friends freshman year in biology so who knows, you could meet your future best friends too.
  • Don’t be stupid. And by that, I mean don’t party hard, experiment with hard drugs (or any drugs for that matter), and don’t get drunk. You’re young and I know it seems cool to get drunk or stoned, but it can negatively affect your schoolwork, health, and social life. It’s not worth it. You’ll have time later to experiment and have fun but freshman year of high school is not a good time to do so. Let’s not mention the numerous legal consequences if you’re caught underage with drugs or alcohol and how detrimental they can be towards your future.
  • Get involved. I know you’re new and probably have no idea what you want to do with your life yet (and if you do, it will most likely change as you go through high school) but find activities both inside and outside of school that you think you’ll enjoy. Some ideas are sports teams, student council, volunteering, clubs etc. It’s not only starting to prepare your college resume (although you shouldn’t be worrying about college apps yet) but also helping you make new friends and discover what you’re really into. Don’t be afraid to join something for whatever reason. Chances are, everyone’s nervous because it’s freshman year and they don’t know anybody so you’re all in the same boat.
  • Be organized. This will help you all throughout high school and getting a system set freshman year will only work in your favor. First, get a planner or agenda. Write down all of your homework, tests, quizzes, and projects and when they’re due and any other events like club meetings or practices so you’ll know what your week looks like. It will prevent forgetting anything important and will help you manage your time. Also find a study system that will work for you. Experiment with different note taking and study methods until you find one that works for you. And finally, don’t eat the elephant a.k.a. don’t leave your homework for Sunday night. It’s not fun and you’ll tire yourself out. Be proactive and get things done early.
  • Make friends with the upperclassmen. They will help you more than you know. I know they look intimidating, but talk to them! Most of them are super nice and can help you get to know your high school better, give you gossip, and you’ll look super cool talking to your upperclassmen friends. Truthfully, up until junior year, I got a long better with the upperclassmen than kids my grade because they were more mature.
  • Relationships don’t matter. It sounds harsh but it’s true. You’re not going to be together with your freshman year significant other for a long period of time, you’re just not. You’ll both grow and mature and realize you want different things and breakup and that’s ok. Don’t take your relationships too seriously and make them your whole life because you’ll regret it. Instead, your dating life should be more about having fun than something serious and long lasting. 
  • Make an effort to participate in school spirit activities. It doesn’t have to be all of them or even most but you should attend some events. Try to make it out to a football game, go to homecoming, and attend spirit rallies or assemblies. I get that some of you don’t like them because they’re loud and can be boring, and that’s fine, but spirit events are a great way to bond with your class and get a feel for what high school really is. They make great memories and it would be awful to look back on high school senior year and realize you’ve never been to one school activity.
  • Mental health is super important. Please don’t ignore it because it affects every facet of your life. Talk to someone if you’re depressed, anxious, stressed, overworked etc. Get the help you need. Don’t hide your problems and think they’ll go away because they most likely won’t and you’ll suffer in your academics, social life, and overall health. You’ll naturally feel different all year because high school is a big transition and you’re getting used to everything but make an effort to reach out to friends, teachers, counselors, and parents to talk about how you’re feeling.

That turned out kind of long but I hope it was helpful. Let me know if you have any questions and good luck next year! 

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.


Jessica Fishlock: Her Own Path 

So the compass is the Pirates of the Caribbean Jack Sparrow compass. That compass is not like north or south - it takes you to whatever you want most at that particular time. And for me I kind of feel that is what my life is. I kind of go with what I want to do and what I want to achieve and how to be successful. And it’s never necessarily about right or wrong or what is good or what I should do. It’s always, always been what I want most and that’s why my life has always been what it’s been - like a traveler’s life and following the football. Because that is ultimately what I’ve always wanted. I do travel all the time and sometimes it gets hard. You’re on your own and you miss your family, but I never really feel like I’m lost. I always know that there’s a purpose for what I’m doing. 

The story of the season - as told by Jürgen Klopp

‘That always happens to us’ - The first stumble

Nobody said it would be easy.

After claiming a scintillating 4-3 victory at Arsenal on the opening day, the Reds travelled to newly-promoted Burnley as strong favourites for another three points that would cement their status as a team to watch out for in 2016-17.

Things, of course, didn’t pan out that way, with first-half goals from Sam Vokes and Andre Gray securing victory for Sean Dyche’s side and leaving the travelling fans wondering whether they might have witnessed yet another false dawn at the Emirates.

For Klopp, however, the game proved little about his squad. In fact, it simply reinforced the idea that some still needed to be turned from doubters to believers.

He recalls: “You win at Arsenal, it was outstanding, then you play Burnley, you lose it and nobody said it was a slip.

"Immediately everybody said, 'That always happens to us’, [we] win such a big game and lose against a smaller side.

"To lose is already hard enough but to have the feeling 'That’s our DNA’, it’s really sad, how can we change this?”

The loss at Turf Moor, which came despite Liverpool boasting 80 per cent possession and taking 26 shots to their opponents’ three, also gave birth to a frustrating early-season narrative - that the Reds lacked a 'Plan B’.

Thankfully, Klopp was never influenced by the furore. He adds: “People said when we didn’t beat the weaker teams that I have no Plan B.

"I have absolutely no problem, people can say what they want, but it’s not about Plan B. We know exactly what to do, we did it so often.

"When we did it, it’s normal, when we didn’t do it, it’s like we’ll never learn it!

”[But] we scored the fourth most, only a few teams scored more than we did. It was all good.“

Keep reading

red or dead

You’ll most likely have heard of David Peace’s other book, The Damned United, the story of Brian Clough at Leeds which was made into a movie starring Michael Sheen. Peace is, while perhaps not the pioneer of football fiction, certainly the one who popularised this kind of writing. It’s as close to mainstream football rpf as we’re ever going to get. That’s the interesting thing about sports, I think, how there are so many concepts which are best conveyed through fiction.

Anyhow. Red or Dead is Peace’s second effort, this time surrounding Bill Shankly’s time at Liverpool, from his appointment in 1959 to his resignation in 1974. I’m going to assume Shankly needs no introduction. He is to Liverpool fans what Sir Alex Ferguson is to United fans; the statue outside Anfield with his fists raised in celebration says it all. He’s also the man you might know as responsible for spawning probably the most popular, most misquoted quote about football in history: ‘Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more important than that.’ With this giant of a character in mind, Peace attempts to string together a story not just about football, but about life; love, obsession, time, humanity, the moments which make us feel alive.

Peace’s novel is unique, not because of subject matter or genre, but because of style: he takes Shankly on in a modernist (almost postmodernist?) way, stark and stripped of feeling or emotion - and, strangely, inciting all the emotion in the world. Here’s a passage not atypical: 

“In the dug-out, on the bench. The Anfield bench. Bill stared out at the players of Liverpool Football Club on the pitch. The Anfield pitch. In the sun, the players of Liverpool Football Club shining. In the sun, in their kits. Their red shirts, their white shorts. And their white socks. And in the dug-out, on the bench. The Anfield bench. Bill heard the whistle blow, Bill heard the crowd roar. The Anfield crowd.” 

The repetition is ruthlessly hammered home, the same phrases seen so many times that they seem to beat a relentless tattoo into your brain. And it’s a hard style to adapt to. It’s a trip. It takes a long time to get used to it and I know that some people won’t like it at all. But when you get what he’s trying to do - when you finally break through the maddening, never-ending cycle of words - what a feeling it is. It’s kind of like football itself, in that sense, and the way we watch it - over and over again, with no explanation available to the non-supporter for why we keep on sitting down in front of the telly every week no matter how many times our hearts have been broken before. The refrains weave into your head as you read and when you least expect it, they explode, and you are overcome with the pureness that comes with the sudden oh of understanding. 

There isn’t a way to explain this unless you read it, so do. Even if you aren’t a Liverpool fan - and I’m about as far from one as you can think, so the fact that I’m reccing this must be good, yeah? - give it a go. It’s got more than enough in there for all fans regarding the consumption of life by football, the intensity of loving the game, the realisation that football is, indeed, not a matter of life and death; it’s much more important than that. 

suggested by @kloppend

Have an article, book, movie, author, etc. to recommend? Tell us!

So, guys, I was having a hard time finding fanfictions to read so in case you’re searching for some great jedtavius fanfiction here are some of my personal favourites, by @slenderlock 

Here is an alternative telling of the third movie and I swear to god it made me all warm inside.

Here is a series of some smaller jedtavius that you can read anywhere, anytime and be completely happy about it. They’re shorter so it’s great if you want to read something but are in a rush?

Here is some AMAZING teacher’s AU that I love with all my heart, god bless. Lots of bad words, also cat puke

Here**** is a great story about a company’s CEO and what was possibly the best metro ride of his life. Well-written porn. Dig in.
(****nsfw because porn, yes)

Here is the best high school AU ever. Octavius watches american football for the same reason I got into rugby and everything is amazing.

The Secret Life of Ahsha : Be spontaneous

The husband was still holding his son with one of his arms while he dive into his wife past…

Dear Diary ,

Today it’s the day I decided to start a diary, for the simple reason that with what happened today , it might be the beginning of something really exciting in my life. I never been into write down everything who is happening in my life, I thought hold a diary was for teenager girl , confessing how they got just all twist it because the captain of the football team smile to them. BuI read fifty shade of grey , and from writing couple line, to fill the void of her boring afternoon, the bitch now is millionaire because some masturbate above her book. Sex sell, that is a fact and fantasy is a real business. And I know what I’m talking about here so… We never know. Maybe I wil have some fan, taking and having pleasure reading these line and my ass will end up rich as hell. You know what is entertaining ? The things people won’t reveal about their sexuality. And yet… I know all of this secret .
I will tell you everything, stuff that I can’t really reveal to anyone. If my mom only knew why her daughter left her small town to move into LA. As cliché it can appears, when Marissa and I came in LA none of us were dreaming about fame and Hollywood. In fact , the reason was as simple than that , we wanted to run away from our parents and gain some independence. A little bit extreme to move accross the other side of the country ? Maybe can. But for us , it wasn’t. We just needed some excitement and adrenaline. Some adventures.  I have been a good girl all my life , you can’t even imagine my ectasy when a guy call me ‘sweet bitch’ while we were fucking for the first time. There… I won’t lie , I got all twisted. I always judge my friend when they were telling they loe to call their man daddy or even be handcuff , since I was the real stereotype of a role model as a young woman. So after graduate from college , we just bought some flight , with no plan at all. No even a job interview. It had been the most impulsive things I ever done. I won’t lie, I had this little voice in my head telling me that I was screwing upp. But when you got mores moral voices, tell them to shut the fuck up. For real , as sonn that I got this , I open my life to so much more exquite things in life .  For sure, the first time were difficult , but it was a year ago. Now,we are installed, inserted professionally and developed social circle. I have a half time job as receptionist in a business building. For the excitement and adventure, this job is boring as hell. I passe all of my time telling people where to go , which floor , give them information and answering to the phone. That is what I signed up for. Do I love it , definitely not. But I was luckier seeing Marissa, her was working in a fast food. Several fast food. She was changing of job like we changed of panties. But we never been looking for a stable and boring job in LA. The atmosphere of the sunny city , endless heat , that was a beautiful living environment. I parked in front of the restaurant I was meeting Clarisse. One of the friend we made. We actually lived together for a moment, before her sister joined her and they took an apartment together
“ Femme Fatale !” she saluted me , from the other side of the sidewalk. Clarisse wasn’t the kind of being discreet. Not at all. Her beauty wasn’t the discreet kind. She was so beautiful that she was having her place in a Victoria’s Secret runway. No lie. That girl , if you have insecurities DO NOT walk next to her. She is the kind of woman you send to frame your man to see if you’re faithful. But don’t take her for a bimbo , a doll without some brain , homegirl was studying in medicine school.  Clarisse gave me as nickname the femme fatale , a french term describing a certain type of women. For me it was just a bourgeois term to tell me I’m picky when it come to men. Well , hell yeah I’m! Yes I precisely decided of the kind of men I have inside of me. Sex is an art, and I’m an artist.
“ Come sit your ass down ” I told her . I was hungry as hell. And I was just having a hour for lunch. Clarisse joined me on the terrace . It was a new restaurant , one we never been to. I ordered some tuna lasagna while Clarisse took a fish burger. Because of course, she was the kind of bitch who can eat whatever she want and still have a good shape. Mila joined us. It was of her classmate. I didn’t knew her from close, but she went to the club with us couple time and lately, we saw each other, for some purpose.
“ Hey girls ” she told us. According what she told me , she had been delay with a conversation with one of her teacher. She was a good company. I hope I was for her
“ So….” started Clarisse, her snoopy ass wanted to know “ How everything went down between you two ? ”
I almost suffocate with my water. I didn’t know she knew in detail for Clarisse and me, the arrangement we made.
“ Great ” smiled Clarisse “ my man completely loved it ”
Know this, I won’t lie , I was proud of my self. I know how to please a man.
“ I happy to help ” I answered , faking a humility I wasn’t having. If Clarisse’s boyfriend spent one of the most exciting night since a while , it was damn right thank to me
“ He loved the lingerie, it just drive him wild ” added Mila , giving even more precisions of what went down. Apparently , her man was a talking because she told us every single details and dirty talk who happened. In fact , we talked about the sex life had been lifted up with just one thing, me. Again, if my mother only knew. We spent the rest of the lunch talking about this, sex. I was about to stand when Mila stopped me
“ No wait ” she said. She turned herself on her chair to reach her purse. From it , she took off a small and thin paper, a check
“ There for you ”
“ Oh no , I didn’t done it for money ” I spoke. Accepted this money was making me a… In fact I don’t know what it make of me . But it wasn’t the kind of service I will give to anyone , or even tell my mama. if I’m getting pay for what I did for her , and mostly for her boyfriend. Was it even having a name for this ? I don’t even know. What I do know is that I wasn’t aiming to be pay
“ To cover the lingerie buying ” explained Mila; It really cost me nothing to buy this lingerie. Barely 50$. Definitely not the 500$ written on the check. Wasn’t she suppose to be student and broke ? But Clarisse told me Mila was coming from a rich family. Rich kid have no value to money , best believe a girl from the hood wouldn’t push me to take 500$ of her.
“ I can’t accept this ” I insisted
“ Well I can’t take it back. Bye girl ” she added, taking her purse , standing up by her turn and she left, leaving me with her check between the hands. Did I run after her ? Nope… My grand fathr always told me this, when someone insist to give you money , take it and run , before he change his mind. I was officially getting pay for this. Does it make it my job ?
“ Ahsha for real ” spoke Clarisse “ You should make it your job. You could have so much client , willing to pay a lot more ”
This is how Mila and her boyfriend became my first client

Dear Diary ,
I’m sorry if I neglect you , I know it’s been a while but to be completely honest with you,first you’re an object so you can’t really be mad at me and second…. I had been busy. Really busy. Make it a job actually had been one of the best idea of the century. My new…work is just so exciting. Illegal and not recommendable but the greatest is that nobody have to know. I should probably tell you what it’s about. After Mila and what Clarisse point out, I do think how valuable I can be. It’s crazy to see how many women are into a relationship and are facing some trouble when it come to keep their men. Let’s be honest , find a man is already a hard task in itself, but keep in it is all lot harder. This is where I’m entering in the game. Like I told you once, sex is an art and I’m an artist. My power, be all kind of women. I didn’t know it was a gift before Mila payed me. Especially after she told me that thank to me , her sex life was a lot more…pleasurable. Since, I decided to make it a business flourishing
I entered to the hotel hall and went to sit on a couch , at the lounge bar. The exciting part of doing what I do is that…in a certain way I have to remain anoynous, discreet , almost like a shadow above the couple. No phone call. No text . Not mail or anything capable of track me , or testify of my existence. I was the first one surprised knowing I had a reputation. You know how it work, a woman talk about me and my service to another one , from mouth to ear, suddenly there was a woman , capable of solve any sensible issue you have with your man and this woman was me. I want to be precaucious. I don’t want everybody , like my neighbors, the people to my work, certain of my friend know about my second activities. Why was it illegal, because I was making myself some money that tax had no idea. Don’t judge me, at least it isn’t drug. It was a bonus that I wanted my identity so secret since most women who needed my service didn’t want it to be know either. Would you want to see that you’re paying the bitch your husband is fucking ? It’s just an example…. I’m not offering that service, but you see my point. What is great about having no identity , it’s that you can adjust your personality toward the person you meet. I will tell you how I contact my client. I have a card with just two things one it , a red rose and a heart. Any woman who get that card , write her number on it and deposit in a mail box I owe, not related to my apartment of course
Then… I call her back. How they manage to have my card is their problems. But anyone who truly need help know where to ask. In this business, you met every kind of women , from any background. Have some mystery is breaking prejudice. Because when I saw my next client, Nathalie , I wouldn’’t have notice her on the sideway. She was like a modern copy of Bre Van De Camp. Her bun perfectly tight on the back of her head, small touch of make up with a red lips stick. Her clothes were impeccable. How a woman look actually say a lot about how her relationship is doing. At the surface good and satisfying but inside just fade as fuck. I was having some experienced now , and I ’m pretty sure that I know what she is going to tell me, ask me , not the bigger contract. I took a last sip of my cosmo and went to her accounter . I touched her shoulder, softly but yet she almost jumped on herself
“ Nathalie ?” I asked
“ You’re…” the woman hesitated. I smiled, confirming her that it was me. We had just one conversation on the phone but she reconize my voice. I lead her to sit on the couch where I was. Proximity was important, I learned this very fast. She was nervous as hell , we could just see it through the thin film of sweat on her temple. She probably didn’t want people find out about this meeting
“ Just relax ok ?” I tried to calm her “ I’m not here to judge you , or embarrass you. You can still decide to leave but know that I’m here to help you ” I wouldn’t go ad remove  that stick she was having in her ass but she clearly needed to take it off.  She carefully listen to what I said , wondering if I was sincere. Nathalie was holding to her purse like he was about to save her. Definitely , she wasn’t comfortable
“ I heard that you was helping women” she whispered , calm and nervous
“ Indeed. But why do you think you need me ?” I saw the two rings to her finger. With no surprise she was married. Since a while since she wasn’t so young. Nathalie was the perfect stereotype of the housewife, dedicated and devoted to her husband , to his success , to his happiness.
Rule number one : NEVER MEET THE BOYFRIEND ( husband, lover , friend) in order to keep all objectivity
“ My husband think that I’m not bold enough when it come to our sex life” she confessed, just like that. It seems to release her because after it was out , she took a deep breath and was a little bit more relax. I can see why she was coming to me, she was probably being apart of a circle where she couldn’t discuss sex with her friends or closes ones. She was pretending her life was perfect , she couldn’t say her sex life was miserable.
Rule number two : GET TO KNOW THE DYNAMIC between the two person
“ Alright ” I started “ Can you tell me more about your relationship . How do you met for example ?”
“ Bennet and I met in college ” she spoke “ We started to date immediately . Everything was like they are saying you know. My parents loved him , his family welcomed me with open arms . It was meant to be I guess. After we graduate , we got married. We had two children and I stopped to work to raise them. All of our days are about is him , being at his office and me being home ” I wasn’t wrong, sometime stereotype were just true. What I heard from her speech is that her life have nothing of a fantasy , and her Bennet was looking for some, in the middle of their perfect life
Rule number three : EVALUATE THE DEMAND and see what is really the problem
“ And sexually, what can you tell me ?” I questioned
“ I always loved sex and I love when we’re doing it with my husband. He is the only man that I ever know but.. I grew up in a very catholic family. Sex is seeing to have just as purpose to procreate, sometime I felt guilty to love this so much ” Bourgeoise…they wanted to appears like above the world and being distinguished but between you and me , all they love is receive some good dick, just like every women. Nathalie wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t the case. She wanted something that she wished I could give her
“ How Bennet is feeling about all this ?” I said
“ Well just like I told you, he think I’m not bold enough. That I don’t initiate sex enough. For him, I’m just laying down and wait him to sex me. For example , he wished I was giving more …oral. It’s just that I don’t know how. I’m not a porn star!”
There was the issue.
“ I think I have all I needed” I continued “ I will call you back , in couple days to propose you something. Do you have the preliminary amount ?”
Rule number five : HAVE A STRICT POLICY AND STICK TO IT . I made it a job , and in every  work was following a certain path. Mine was a preliminary meeting with a first payment, a second meeting or several , it depends of the demands and then a last meeting with the last payment who also depend of the service I produce. Nathalie searched in her purse and gave me a bump envelope. I didn’t count, in order to show her that I was trusting her , dead down hoping that the 300$ were there. Did I say I was cheap ? I wish I didn’t lie about this
Dear Diary

I called back Nathalie. I was always preferring think about the problem and the solution myself , in calm , with me only and my thoughts, settle everything and then called back my client. I gave another RDV to Nathalie a little far from the center of the city. When I saw her arrived , I retain a laugh. She really thought we were in a movie. But I can’t even blame her, if her neighbor, with who she is taking a cup of tea and eating some pie in front of stuch a place. She will be the shame of the neighborhood, and put a stroke into her husband reputation. Yes I know…society never been fair with women and their sexuality. We’re being teached that a woman shouldn’t have the same sexuality than men. But hey….it gave me my job.  That woman…this contract was highly amusing thought . Will pay my next night out at the club.

“ You know the sun glasses and the hat was really not necessary” I smiled to her. She was worried about being seen in front of a sex shop. Because it was definitely where we were going. We entered , even if her was hesitating. I thought about her problem and the desire of her husband to have a more involve woman in their sex life. I took the object I was interested. We buy it , as fast that we can since she was about to make a stroke. Obviously , she never had one between her hands before. We got into my car , I took of the toy from the package and showed it to her
“ This is a didlo , representing the male anotomy as you can see ” I started “ Take it and practice your blow job technique until it feel you perfect. You can watch some porn and copy some stuff but don’t forget that they are actor and you doesn’t have to be as…hardcore . The key is to use both your mouth sucking him and your hands , rubbing him.”
I showed her the gesture, on the object making my wrist doing the back and forth all along the length. I pointed a specific area from the penis ,
“ This is the glands, the most sensitive part of member. If there is anywhere you need to focus it’s there. You can tighten your hand all around , make your tongue suck it and flick. One thing they usually love is you stuck it in your mouth against you cheek and flick it, fast. If you feel adventurous you an focus on his balls but you kinda have to be careful there since it’s reamy sensitive, in the bad sense of the terms. The deeper it goes in your throat and the bigger pleasure he is taking it. When he is about to come, usually you can feel that the member is trembling in your mouth and of course the noise your man make. It’s in that period your retire if you don’t want to swallow. You really don’t have to , but keep your mouth away before he throw hiw juice because if you arleady have it in and you spit it , it’s kinda upsetting. If I give you this advice it’s for you to get comfortable not only with a penis in your mouth but with the idea of doing it . Every women should feel good about please her man, there is aboslutely not shame in this” Nathalie seems to be more  than into this idea. It was a way to make her gain some self confidence ,learn to take some pleasure about suck a dick and get some practice to not feel ridiculous.  The preliminary payment was for this , covered the future buying. Of course I keep the rest. Before she got into her car, I wanted her to give her one more last advice “ Oh and.. Feel free to just show up to his office, unanounced during the lunch break or a calm moment to just go under the his desk and give him a head”
It’s sexy , sensual and impulsive, spontaneous, all Bennet wanted in fact. Indeed it was having nothing exciting to just fuck a calm pussy lay down right in front of him
“ I will call you back in couple day” I said “ For a last meeting and payment”
I gave her my card , with the red rose and the heart , but at the back an amount written. 200$. If she wanted to recomand my service, it was probably this card she will gie to a friend or any kind of woman in need of…help
When I got home , Marissa were just about to go to her work
“ Hey Ahsha , you was at work or with one of your client ?” she asked me. She always had been the curious kind.
“ The second option ” I answered, taking off my shoes “ And don’t jump on the curtain , it was a small contract. Just a lesson. But I have this big thing with Estelle and a anniversary with Madison” Both of them where my current big client, with bigger contract and service needed .

Dear Diary
I’m sure I told you about my official work , as a receptionist in a business building. In other words, completely soporific. But what was a bonus it’s that since I was barely talking to visitor and answer to the phone, the computer , a modern apple. My new client, Emma came to me couple days before. Again a small contract. I will explain you the difference between the contracts . She just wanted a sexy and original idea for her man birthday. Since the end of the year was coming, I proposed her a calendar with footage of herself. We went to shopping , then to a photo studio taking picture by a professionnal photographer. I… was the last part of it. The photographer sent me the pictures. Emma was pretty clear and sure of how she wanted  the calendar to look like. Something sexy , sensual without being vulgar and too provocative. I was also pay for this , get everybody state of mind, personalities, what they like, what they hate, what was out of character. I was scheduling the photo toward the difference month. I needed to fight with Emma to have a topless shot. But with the way she was covering her breast, her jean straight on her hips , it was looking like a commercial for jean. The wet shot was absolutely perfect but I added some filter. On the photo while she was wearing a long white shirt, made it black and white . All details count and precisely the initiative I was making proof of. On each months, I added a little line or sentence , in the spirit of the calendar. Sensual and sometime… a little dirty. Which man wouldn’t want to receive this as a gift . The best picture was the nude one. Visually , it was hot. Maybe it could be a poster , coming along with the calendar. I spent my all afternoon doing this . I can say I’m a real profesional. I ordered a black box, with a red stain bottom. The package…was also important , as much the gift was. Later , I will tell Emma to slide a thong of hers.
Like I said…just a small contract

Dear Diary
Since I promised you…little diary , I never told you the difference between a small contract and a bigger one. It’s mostly the money I get from it. In fact , it’s about the kind of demand. Emma and Nathalie came for an advice , an orientation. Most of the time, I wasn’t having more than five meeting with them. A bigger contract , like Estelle was having such as demand to maintain their relationship. In a much longest time. It was several meeting and intervention by me and regular payment. Let me introduce you , Estelle. She heard about me from Mila, my very first client. Estelle is a rich country girl , living on her parents money but was working in the company of her father. She was in couple since years with Vincent , an italian restorer. Him too wasn’t missing of money. A privilege and white rich couple. The routine was the regular problem in couple. But money…was also a recurent issue. Sometime chase money was time consuming, time people weren’t involving into their relationship. When I analyze the demand of Estelle, that was the first time I noticed. She wasn’t having time to be a girlfriend. What she asked me, how she wanted me to help her was a HUGE DEMAND. She talked about her man for hours, to my demand since I needed to know as much that I could. Still following my rule number one, never directly meet him. My work with Estelle was involving book restaurant for they can go out on a date, send Vincent a gift when he was having a business promotion. Schedule their vacation.Lingerie buying. Write some dirty and sexy text she can send him and I pass all other details.  I was feeding her relationship , in the shadow, without Vincent  know that I was behind all the affectionate and romantic gesture. I was involved in their sex life without he know it giving some sexual technique, which sex position and when do it. With Estelle, I was having a long term contract , receiving payment often. Anytime I was interfering. My job was also about anticipate. Vincent was opening another restaurant downtown in LA. It was a big event , important in his career, so important for him. Was suppose to be important for Estelle. It was something to cover. I called her, from a private and pay phone,  at this hour she was probably at the spa. Of course she was too busy getting some massage that look the world around her, like what her man was accomplishing
“ Estelle ” I said , on the phone. I was in contact with Estelle since months now and yet she was still doesn’t now my name. For the biggest discretion, even my client doesn’t know my real name, my address, anything about me. All they were having for was how I was looking and my voice , when I contact them. I love to be able to control when , how , how often I talk to my client. If felt like I was having some power over them and honestly , I love this feeling
“ Oh it’s you ”
“ Since Vincent it’s opening a new restaurant I thought that maybe you guys can celebrate. A nice week end , at Mexico. 3 days away , in a private residence”
“ You’re just incredible ” she told me. Baby girl , I already know. When I have to pick up your man suit or make two hours on a road trip to find the damn lubricant they used because of course even their lubricant is fancy “ I wouldn’t even cross my mind to go on a week end because he opened his stupid other restaurant. All I see in this , it’s he is going to be a lot more busy ” As much I was having some power and having their relationship in the bottom of my hands, I wasn’t able to change neither one the significant other in the couple. I couldn’t let my personal value enter in the game. I was meant to be a chameleon, and take any girls skin to fit to any boy. If all men were different , there was having some similarities in the gender, just like for us women. Men weren’t known to take romantic initiave such as trips, or buy a bouquet of flowers and some other attention.before you reproach it to them. Or at least Estelle ’s man was like this.  Pass through the courting pass, take things for granted and settle in the routine was in both gender. But what men do like is when you acknowledge their effort and cheer up their effort. They love attention , just like we do but doesn’t admit it . Estelle was the selfish kind of girlfriend, not like she meant to be but unfortunately she was. I could say she love Vincent, but she just wanted all the benefit of a relationship without being oblige to accord less attention on herself. All she wanted was a ring , to say she is about to get married. Like most of my big contract , why women were coming to me for a long term service was having a goal. Finally move in together. Have a baby. Work together. Meet the family etc etc , all big step in a relationship. When they were facing a wall , they were asking some of my help. For me , it was a bigger investment but also a bigger payment.
“ I will arrange this” I said “ I will make sure there is the TV for he can watch the NBA playoff but also a jacuzzi , his favorite cookie. I will also suggest a gift, like a Rolex ” Hopefully, I don’t pay for all this.If I’m telling you all this about Estelle it’s for you know which kind of relation I was having with her and for you to understand which role I had on what happened today. I was coming back home , and at the door step a chocolate box , red in form of a heart, and the news paper. I was rarely reading those but I saw that a specific article had been surround by a red mark
“ Estelle Fizer and Vincent Lazio got engaged in Mexico after 4 years of Relationship ” I read. Their couple was so famous that their engagement was announced in the news paper. Like people actually care that two rich were about to get married and become even more rich.  Well , it look like Estelle finally got what she wanted. This ridiculous and giant rock to her finger. I got her engaged and all she got me is chocolate ?! This girl… I would have love to see her ungrateful ass. But when I opened the box, it was having absolutely no chocolate but some cash. A lot of them . 20 000$ exactly , probably my last payment. She won’t need me anymore. Marissa got home right after me , maybe couple minute after. I pulled out a certain amount, giving to her
“ My part of the rent ” I told her, all pride. Was I even a little sad about lost one of my best client , I will be honest with you , not even a little. This business was fructifying. Estelle was proabaly having a friend , or a neighbor with some issue with her man. Marissa drooled in front of the 1000$ cash in her hand.

Dear Diary ,
Here I presented you MADISON
1/ Still don’t meet the boyfriend. But with the description Madison made of him he was a black man, sculpted like a god. Tall . He got abs , oh yeah she told me one hundred time her man was looking fine. That girl, she was the true stereotype of the obsessed girlfriend. She was seeing and praise by her man
2/ Evaluate the dynamic . Apparently it was a little tumultuous. Her was fully committed and was actually not doing that much something else and she was feeling like her man wasn’t that much involve in their couple. Insecurities were also some problem in the well being of a relationship. And Madison seems to have plenty. Yet…she was a beautiful and very attractive. For her, their relationship wasn’t going farther enough. Not like she was doubting of his love for her but she wanted a lot more
3/ Evaluate the demands. When Madison came to me , she was facing a crisis. She made him one hundred jealousy crisis and he decided that he was having enough. That he couldn’t handle this more . They were at the board of the break up . What she was asking me and where she needed help was how have his heart again. Win a heart man is easy, neither you do , or you don’t, but gain him again is an all other story. Because in this situation, he already know what he doesn’t want from you . When it’s meant to be, then it’s. If you need to be a complete other person , then I guess it’s not. But it’s easy to hide behind this. In everything in life , for anything you have to make effort. I was willing to help Madison to do this effort in order to be with the man she was in love with
4/ Think about a solution. First of all , the priority was them to bond again. A little date night , a deep and honest conversation and they were back on track. First mission accomplished. It’s there I figure which kind of contract  Madison will be , a long term , close to Estelle, even if we were far to have them engaged. The second part was to figure out which kind of profile her man wanted his girl to be into. And for that I needed to have his own profile. The first thing I understand about him was that he was loving having his space , so the best advice I gave to Madison was to  lighten  her exigence and expectation. Like constantly asked him where he was, with who , snoop on his phone was to avoid. He was looking good, so probably wanted his woman to look good. Not that Madison needed any workout session , spend some time at the gym together was a nice alternative to not only spend some time with him , doing something he was loving and keep a good shape. Apparently  life was good for him since he was gaining enough money but a lot of guy were becoming mistrustful about women around them just for money. This is why I think he wanted an independant woman , also confident having something else for passion than their relationship. He wanted someone spontaneous, funny , sensual , capable of keep him interested all over again.
With Madison, we started to scratch and it was months ago. Look at where we were now, she just moved in with him. She was in heaven and wanted to celebrate this. According her, he was in a business trip , that it’s why I allowed myself to do just this… I unlocked the door and come into his, their apartment, the arms filled of bag and boxes. I was having three hours before they arrive. Three hours to make their cocoon the host of a very exciting night. Damn…this place! She wasn’t kidding when she was speaking of richness and money. I couldn’t be distract. I went to what seems to be the bedroom and carefully place the ensemble of lingerie I bought , for she can see it’s her night outfit. The kitchen was opened on the living room. I stopped by the restaurant and took some take over. All I needed to was to plate them and put them on the fridge, then Madison will have to do was to warm them. Of course I planned some champagne and a fabulous desert. What will take more time is definitely the decoration of the living room. I placed couple perfumed candles everywhere. Previously , I asked to Madison couple photo of their couples that I print . It was one of my little thing. I put them all over the walls of the room . Suddenly the atmosphere was more intimate , as they were like in a museum dedicate to them and their couple. I put the last photo on the wall when I had been surprised. And not a little.The door opened and a man entered . I almost jumped on myself . I quickly turned around facing a man
“ Who are you ?” he spitted, astonished to find someone in his apartment. Because it was probably his. Obviously , he came back from his trip earlier
“ I’m.. I” I strutted, the nervous making my voice trembled “ I’m a friend of Madison. And you ?”
“ Who I am ?” he repeated . He was looking around and see what I did to his apartment. Most of the time , house breaker doesn’t turn your house into a romantic and sensual cocoon. I could see that he was feeling something was wrong “ Well this is my place and I’m Derek " 

That was the first time I broke the number one rule , because I met the boyfriend

” David ? “ Ahsha yelled , from the other side of the door, right in the corridor. The husband completely forgot about the present world, because of his jumped in the past. He came to his sense and quickly hide the diary under mattress of the cradle. He didn’t know why , but after met the Ahsha from the diary, he didn’t want the Ahsha from their marriage to know that he was exploring her past. When they said , even married you don’t know the person you’re living with , they were damn right


Can you a cal blurb or imagine or something where you’re like best friends and he gets all jelly bc you ask one of the others to help you learn how to play guitar?

Calum had been your next door neighbor for as long as you could remember and you two had become best friends one day when he kicked his soccer ball into your backyard and it knocked over the castle you were building in your sandbox. Since that day you two did everything together. From the very first day of school, he  would always meet you at your front door so you two could walk the two miles to school together. Those walks were your favorite because it allowed you and Calum to talk about anything and everything. He told you all about his dream to be a star football player and sometimes even made you practice with him, even though he was way better at it than you. When the boys, Luke, Michael and Ashton came into his life, Calum told you all about their plans to start a band and make it big. No matter what it was that he wanted to do you supported him 100 percent. How could you not? He was your best friend. Of course, over the years and being in such proximity with someone as amazing as Calum you couldn’t help but feel attracted to him on a romantic level. Though you had never told him of course. Your friendship with him was the best thing in your life and there was no way you were going to risk losing it for the chance of him liking you back. So instead you listened to him talk about the girls he fell in and out of love with over the years and tried not to let it bother you. The day they got the call about accompanying One Direction on tour, you were the first person Calum told. You were there the day before they left the country, when Calum opened himself to you and told you how scared he was that the band would fail or that he would mess up in front of thousands of people and you had comforted him, telling him he was the best musician in the world and that people would have to be crazy not to like his music. The day him and the boys shipped off to the UK was the day your heart broke. Even though he called you almost every night, you still missed him like crazy. Walking to school alone was torture without Calum to walk beside you.

Now he was finally coming home to visit and you were beyond excited. He told you not to meet him at the airport because the fans would likely be there and he didn’t want you to get hurt in the excitement. So here you were, pacing around your house like a madwoman, waiting for him and the boys to knock on your door. Suddenly you heard the slam of a car door outside. Running to the door you heaved it open and were met with a grinning Calum walking up your driveway with his suitcase in hand.

“CALUM!” You ran towards him as he opened his arms for a hug. You jumped into his waiting arms and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I missed you so much!”

“I can see that” He chuckled. “I miss you too.” He smiled as he buried his face in your hair.

“Well what about me, did you miss me that much?” You detached yourself from Calum and looked up to see Luke with his guitar case in his hand and duffel bag slung over his shoulder and sunglasses to cover his eyes. You laughed.

“Of course I missed you Luke.” You stepped away from Calum to give Luke a hug. He set down his guitar case and picked you up spinning you around. “Luke!” You laughed as he put you down and wrapped his arms around you.

“Glad to hear it babe.” Your cheeks flushed at the nickname, but you ignored it. Looking back over at Calum you saw that his arms were crossed, eyes hooded and his jaw was set in a firm line. You gave him a quizzical look, but he just turned to go inside.

“Well, can I help you guys carry anything in?” You offered as the other boys unloaded their things from the car.

“I think we’re okay but thanks for offering!” Ashton smiled at you.

As all of you walked inside, Luke immediately opened up his guitar case and started strumming. You sat down next to Calum on the couch, he immediately put his arm securely around you, and listened to Luke as he strummed and the rest of the boys hummed along. It felt great to have everyone back together again, but better that Calum was sitting next to you for the first time in months. “Ugh, you guys have more talent in your fingers than I do in my whole body.” You groaned. Luke laughed. “You know I could teach you to play if you want.” He suggested. You lit up, excited to learn, but wishing it was Calum that could teach you instead. You glanced at the dark haired boy sitting next to you and you thought you might have caught an eye roll from him. A little hurt at the irritated gesture you accepted Luke’s offer and joined him on the loveseat. “Here, sit between my legs and hold it like this.” He put the instrument in your arms as you sat between in thighs.

“Well not that this isn’t fun, but I’m going to go play fifa.” Michael excused himself from the room with Ashton following closely behind. Now it was just you, Luke and Calum sitting angrily on the couch across from you. You wondered what his problem was and why he was suddenly in such a bad mood. Perhaps it’s just jet lag, you thought to yourself. “Okay now put your fingers here…” Luke guided your hands across the neck of the guitar and placed your hands on the correct strings. “And here…” His fingers brushed yours and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. “Now strum” He instructed. You did as he said and the guitar made a beautiful sound. “That’s a C chord.” He said proudly. “Look at you you’re a natural! I knew you would be.”

“Thanks Luke I really appreciate…” You were cut off by Michael’s voice yelling from the kitchen. “Where do you keep your beer?” You sighed at the colored haired boy’s idiocy. “Yeah, it’s in a really weird place! Let me get it for you.” You yelled back, getting up from Luke’s lap. You padded over to the kitchen to get the beer for Michael. “Here ya go Mikey. Sorry I keep it hidden so people won’t steal it all.” You poked out your tongue as Michael winked at you and strutted away back to his fifa game. You stalked back over to the living room. As you got closer you heard the raspy whispering voice of Luke. “I don’t know what the big deal is Cal, I’m just teaching her how to play a few chords.”

“Don’t play that game with me Luke, I heard you in the car talking about how hot you thought she was and how much you wanted to bed her when we got back I’m not stupid.” Calum whispered angrily. “Cal, chill out! I know she’s your best friend but you can’t expect a girl that fine to be single forever and I just happened to be taking advantage of the situation.” Luke argued. “God, Luke you just don’t understand!” Calum ran his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut before taking a big breathe. “I’m in love with her Luke. I always have been, I just didn’t want to make it weird with us. She’s gorgeous and I know she thinks of me just as a friend I didn’t want to embarrass myself. And then we left for tour and I just missed her so much…It is a big deal Luke and I don’t want you hitting on her like that.” Calum said sternly. You gasped at his confession then quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to conceal yourself.

Luke smiled. “There’s the confession. I know you love her Cal. Hell we all know you love her. I think you talked to her more than us the whole tour and she was miles away!” He chuckled. “I would never take her from you Calum I just needed for you to finally grow some balls and admit it.” Calum blushed.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“I know, but at least she knows now.” Luke glanced in your direction.

What the hell do you mean?” Calum asked

Luke nodded at you. “You can come out now.” Embarrassed you stepped out of your hiding spot.

“Uh, I didn’t know how to interrupt so I just kinda…I’m so sorry Cal I didn’t mean to eavesdrop I just…” You stuttered

“I’ll just leave you two then.” Luke exited the room to join Michael and Ashton.

“So you heard all that then.” Calum’s eyes were fixated on the ground, not daring to meet yours.

“Calum.” You grabbed his chin in your hands and made him look at you. “I love you too.” His eyes widened and he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.

“You…how? Why didn’t you tell me?” He stammered, surprised out of his mind that a girl like you would ever love him.

“For the same reason Cal, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship but I love you and I think I always have.” You smiled looking into his big brown eyes, full of blatant adoration. Suddenly, a pair of soft lips met yours in a flurry of emotion. His lips molded with yours like they were the only ones you were ever meant to kiss. Between soft peppers of kisses Calum asked, “Be my girlfriend.”

You smiled up at him and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before replying “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”



anonymous asked:

I'm sorry but the dads from Supernatural post photos of their kids unblurred??Jared sometimes brings his oldest on video chats or includes him in videos??Jensen always posts about JJ and thw twins,Misha too!On father's day they all posted photos unblurred!I'm sure there has to be pap photos too!Does that mean their kids aren't real??Do they fake their babies too??@ larries get a grip and a life!L is a wonderful,young dad who can't enjoy it because you're all threatened by a BABY

I follow football players and they all get papped and their children are not blurred out. You can see pap shots of Messi and Cristiano’s kids going to or from school or on holiday with them. No blurs over their faces. 

As far as I know nobody accuses them of exploiting their own children or for somehow gaining something from their children being seen with them. Like I don’t think it helps them score goals if a pap takes long range shots of them on a yacht with their child. 

Yet it happens all the time.

People need to get out of this fandom because there’s a whole world out there that doesn’t involve Larrie conspiracies and you’re going to have to enter it at some point and explain why none of it matches your fantasies about the imprisonment and hostage situation Louis and Harry are under.