for most of those anyway

10

Are you not afraid to d a n c e with me?

whatdoesthistellyou  asked:

thanks for your tags on the gwen araujo post. i know the history of gay/trans panic but i hadn't connected it to how it's used in (many many) fandoms, that is a very good point, thank you

Thanks, @whatdoesthistellyou. “Gay panic” gets so, so terribly misused in fandom. Even as many times as I’ve seen it used to mean “someone is panicking about realizing that they’re not straight,” it’s not something I’ve gotten used to. 

To review (bc this is something I never feel like we can say too much):

“Gay panic” and “trans panic” are the names of legal defenses that have been used to excuse people who murder, rape, and/or assault LGBTQ people.

The principle behind the defense is that learning that someone is gay or trans, and particularly men realizing that they might be attracted to a man or transwoman, is so very horrific that murder is an understandable and acceptable reaction.

“Gay panic” and “trans panic” are about as deeply homophobic, transphobic, cissexist, and horrific as it gets. They are the legal embodiment of the idea that gay and trans people’s lives don’t matter. They are the legal embodiment of the idea that being LBGTQ is repulsive and disgusting - so much so that someone might be legally justified in stamping out the existence of gay and trans people.

When people use the terms “gay panic” or “trans panic” in shipping lgbtq characters to refer to a moment of difficult realization, they are, in fact, evoking a horrific history of homophobic abuse of LGBTQ people.

If you can know what “gay panic” and “trans panic” mean, what they are, what they do, and still use them for your lighthearted shipping fun, it is perhaps time for a long, hard look in the mirror.

Here it is! Thanks to an anonymous suggester or two, I prepared a week in dedication to our red headed princess. And what better way of starting on the 8th where (supposedly) represents a day of reflection upon all beauty; a day to disregard all dwellings on we don’t have and appreciate what we do instead. Sounds very apparent for her, and I’m more than excited to share this. Tag every submission to either #kairisweek2017 or #cutiepiekairi so that I can see and reblog them on here.

Dates and activities:

April 8th (Day 1) - Favorite appearance / outfit

April 9th (Day 2) - Favorite scene

April 10th (Day 3) - Favorite interaction

April 11th (Day 4) - Favorite trait / feature

April 12th (Day 5) - Favorite quote

April 13th (Day 6) - KH3 hopes / wishes

April 14th (Day 7) - What character(s) relate to Kairi / Character crossovers

*April 15th (Day 8) - What you love most about Kairi / Free day (do whatever)!

Express those days anyway you want! Art, gifs, edits, text– doesn’t matter. Writers, cosplayers, or musicians are most welcomed! Don’t hesitate to get creative. This all about positivity for Kairi. Spread nothing but love.
Note that you don’t have to follow those exact activities listed or do each day. Go about any way you want it! If you got any more questions, go on and ask!

ALSO: I will be making a similar post on my primary blog (keybladewielder) tomorrow so incase if there’s any confusion, it’s still the same person.

i truly love it when people who are Paid For This are fucking terrible at storytelling and throw away amazing storylines and waste so much potential for cheap plot twists! it’s my fave thing really, i enjoy it so much every single time!

3

Anyways here’s a mermaid au that no one asked for

Bakugou’s color scheme is really different bc i picked the fish based off of characteristics instead of colors

Bakugou is a sea dragon (mythical, obviously) and kirishima is a red dragon betta fish

anonymous asked:

If you don't accept submissions then why do you have submissions open?

In case people want to submit links or images to us, or simply have more to say than the askbox will allow! There’s plenty of reasons to use the submit box than submitting shitpost ideas - and most of those kind of messages we usually get through the askbox anyway. Please don’t send us shitposts, we like to post things that come entirely from us here for our own reasons, and we simply will not post them, sorry.

But this reminds me, actually. Dear followers, you might have noticed that we’ve recently been reblogging political or donation posts, in an effort to use our not-insignificant amount of followers to do some good in the real world. If any of you see a post or cause that you think deserves some attention, can you send a link our way? We only see so many of these posts, and it would be really helpful if some of you guys could send us some if you see them. Thanks!

anonymous asked:

Hey! I looove your work and I wanted to ask about blackice. I adore the AUs you have for these characters, and I was wondering if you have other AUs in mind for this ship? Not any plans for future writing but I thought it would be fun to hear what ideas you have for these characters.

Hiya anon!

I have no immediate plans to write any more blackice after TGATNW, and I have come up with other AUs over the years. One I’m actually stealing for an original novel series (a demonology AU), and the other…I’ll never have time for, which was a Rise of the Guardians / His Dark Materials crossover, where Pitch and the Nightmare King are brothers and Jack is a witch who can control the snows and etc. I don’t even really remember the plot. I just remember it was pretty and also daemons.

But the demonology AU I’m reworking (I came up with it like, god, oh my god, midway through 2013? Haha, I’ve been on this account for too long. *becomes a slug and crawls around*), mostly because I like the potential it has as a universe to carry multiple stories, similar to how the Fae Tales universe does now.

I haven’t really tried to come up with anything else, to be honest, because I am 99% more likely to be thinking of AUs for Gwyn and Augus, since they are way more my OTP than Jack and Pitch. (I love Jack and Pitch, but like…for characters that fill my every waking moment, it is more likely to be Gwyn and Augus. I have like a million AUs for them).

The Brothers--Chuck’s Story

by Chuck Keyser, as told to mrs momona in 2008

© mrs momona 2017

My big brother Jimmy is 11 years older than me. We were born and raised in southern California. When I was 2 years old, our real father was killed in a traffic accident. Jimmy was 13 at that time, and for the next five years he was really like a dad to me. He was involved in athletics in high school, played football, baseball, and wrestled, and also had a part-time job, but he always found time to play catch with me in the backyard, take me swimming, and let me “wrestle” with him. My mother took me to watch every game he took part in. He was my hero. All my friends envied me because I had such a cool big brother.

When I was 6 and Jimmy was 17, my mom remarried. Her new husband was a fitness trainer who insisted that Jimmy and I call him “Beau”. He was real “southern California”—had a great year-round tan, was a nutrition fanatic, and always bragged about which rich and famous people he had trained. Even though I was still a little kid, I could tell that he and Jimmy just didn’t get along. There was never any fighting or yelling, but I could just sense it. A year later, when Jimmy graduated from high school, he headed east to the Philadelphia area, where our real dad had family. I was real sad when Jimmy left, but he promised he’d keep in touch with me.

For the next 11 years, I didn’t see Jimmy in person. He wrote me a couple of times a month, called me often, and sent me cards and money, too—on holidays, my birthday, and sometimes just for the heck of it, I guess. He wrote my mom, too, and always sent her pictures. Over the years, we received pictures of Jimmy as he started working as a construction worker, then got married (my mom flew east for his wedding), had kids, and started his own contracting company. So, I knew that Jimmy had a wife, who my mom said was “a very nice girl”, and over the years had three kids, two girls and a boy.

Whenever a card or letter came from Jimmy and his wife Emily, my mom would eagerly read the letter and look at the pictures, then show them to me. She also showed them to Beau. It always seemed to me that Beau never had anything good to say about Jimmy and his family. I couldn’t figure out exactly what Beau didn’t like about Jimmy, because my mom always changed the subject when Beau started his sarcastic comments. I remember hearing Beau say things like “Oh, heard from the blimp again?” when my mom got a letter. She’d shoot him a dirty look, and then change the subject.

By the time I graduated from high school, I looked like the typical tanned southern California surfer boy type. I liked the beach. I also went out for sports in high school. I remembered what sports Jimmy had gone out for, and I went out for football, wrestling, and baseball too. Beau never had the time to go to any of my games, and he didn’t like it when my mom did either, but she still went, and she sent Jimmy newspaper clippings about every game I played in.

Beau never had much to say to me, which was OK with me. The only area where he tried to control my life was in fitness and nutrition. He never bugged me about fitness—my being involved in athletics, swimming, and surfing meant that at 6'1", I weighed 170 with six-pac abs, broad shoulders, a 30" waist, and slim hips. I guess Beau was pleased that I was in good shape.

Nutrition was another story. He insisted that my mom cook vegetarian, low fat, low carb, all that stuff. Even on holidays like Thanksgiving, we’d have a soy-based turkey substitute (talk about stuff that tasted like shit!). Of course, when I was at school and when I was with my buddies, I ate what I wanted, but at home Beau strictly counted the calories for the three of us. Beau made my mom and me weigh in at the end of every month. I’d have to get on the doctor’s scale he kept in the room he had turned into a home gym (Jimmy’s old room), just wearing my jockeys. Beau checked my weight and gave me the “once over” to make sure, I guess, that I wasn’t getting fat on the vegetarian crap we ate at home.

At one of these weigh-ins, I remember him saying “I’m not going to be the step-father of a fat boy” when the scale showed a 5 lb increase in a month. Luckily, I had grown an inch taller since the previous weigh-in, and I was so active that I never really found out what he’d do if I did put on a little extra weight. I do remember thinking when Beau made the “step-father of a fat boy” crack, “Hey, buddy, don’t ever mention the word ‘father’ when you refer to yourself and me”. But I kept my mouth shut, not wanting my mom to suffer any grief from the jerk.

I turned 18 in April and graduated from high school in the middle of June without any plans for the future. I guessed I was going to enroll in a local junior college, but my real goal was to get a job and save money so I could move out of the house and get away from Beau. My mom was hopeless. I knew she loved me, but she seemed to love Beau, too.

The day before my graduation, I received a graduation card from Jimmy and Emily. In the card was a print-out confirming that an e-ticket in my name was awaiting me at the check-in counter of a major airline at LAX, one-way from Los Angeles to Philadelphia. Emily wrote that she and Jimmy wanted me to come east and live with them for as long as I wanted. There were a number of colleges in the area where they lived, and I could go to school part time or full time, whatever. If I wanted, Jimmy would give me a job at his contracting company. All I had to do was make a reservation and let Jimmy and Emily know the date and time of my arrival.

Beau wasn’t home when I showed the card to my mom. She cried when she read it, but she looked at me and said, “Chuckie, I think you should go. I know you’re not very happy here. Stay with Jimmy and Emily for a while and see how things go. If you feel like coming back to California, remember you’re always welcome here…with me, anyway. Please just promise me you’ll call me on my cell phone every week.” I promised my mom. I called the airline and made a reservation to fly east the next week, then I called and spoke to my sister-in-law. With the three hour time difference, Jimmy was already at work. Emily sounded overjoyed when I told her I was coming and kept saying, “Your brother will be SO happy. We’re ALL happy!”

That evening, my mom told Beau about my plans. He glanced over at me and said, “Just make sure you don’t end up like your brother, kid”. What the hell was that supposed to mean? My brother Jimmy was happily married with three kids and owned his own contracting company, for gosh sakes! I just ignored Beau, figuring that if I said anything my mom would be the one to take the heat, not me.

Over the next week, I partied up with my high school buddies. All of them were going to stay in southern California. There was lots of kidding about me surfing in the Atlantic Ocean, stuff like that.

The day of my flight arrived and my mom took me to LAX. Beau wasn’t with us, which made me happy. My mom cried a lot, but I promised her I’d come back to see her again in a year at the most. (I don’t know why I said that. I guess I felt so bad that my mom was crying so much that I just said whatever came to mind.) I boarded the plane and settled into my seat.

During the flight, I thought about how I’d recognize Jimmy when I arrived in Philadelphia. After all, I hadn’t seen him in eleven years. Everyone in California who remembered him told me that I looked just like him when he was in high school—blond hair, blue eyes, kind of tall, and an athletic build.

I arrived at the Philadelphia airport and headed to the baggage claim area. I got my bags and started looking for Jimmy. There was a mob at the claim area when I heard on the PA, “Chuck Keyser, please report to the customer service desk at baggage claim area B-1”. That had to be Jimmy, paging for me!

As I walked to the customer service desk, I scanned the area looking for my big brother, but I didn’t see him. All of a sudden, I was grabbed from behind and locked in a hug which knocked the wind out of me. “Chuckie, I could tell it was you! You look just like the graduation picture you sent us!” Without pausing for breath, the voice continued, “Kids, this is your Uncle Chuckie!” I took a step back and looked at the man the voice came from, It had to be Jimmy, so I said, “Jimmy, gosh, it’s sure good to see you” as I embraced him.

If you’re thinking I didn’t recognize my own big brother right off, you’re right! He was BIG! I don’t know why I was so surprised—eleven years is a long time. I guess the photographs I had seen over the years hadn’t really impressed me with how big he had grown. After all, I was only a kid for most of those years! Anyway, the Jimmy who greeted me was my height, but as wide as he was tall. He had a round face with chubby cheeks and a big double chin. You could tell he was a construction worker from his broad meaty chest and shoulders and huge upper arms and forearms. He was wearing a tight blue t-shirt with “Keyser Contractors” on the front, but the shirt was so tight it emphasized his massive fleshy upper arms, huge man boobs, enormous round belly, deeply sunken bellybutton, and wide bulging lovehandles In fact, the shirt was so small a good three inches of the bottom of his big belly hung below the hem of the t-shirt.

My attention was distracted though by Jimmy’s voice. He was introducing me to my nieces and nephew. “This is our oldest, Joyce, she’s 9, and then Jennifer, she’s 8, and here’s little Jimmy, we call him Junior, he’s 7.” The three kids all rushed up to me and greeted me like I was a long-lost relative, which I guess I was! Each one of the kids took a bag (I had a carry-on and two checked bags) and tried to grab my hand as Jimmy took the lead as we walked out of the baggage claim area and headed to the parking structure. I was trying to pay attention to each of the kids—they were all talking at once—and follow my brother at the same time.

Actually, Jimmy was easy to follow—all I had to do was keep his broad back, encased in the too-tight t-shirt, in view. I noticed that he had two thick rolls of flab on the back of his neck. Below his broad shoulders, his enormous wide lovehandles sat where his lats and obliques had been when I last saw him when he was 18. Below the lovehandles, the two huge buttcheeks which made up his massive wide behind shifted from side to side and wobbled and bounced as he waddled along. His t-shirt was so tight, it didn’t cover all his lovehandles, and I couldn’t help but notice that he had some major buttcrack action going as his massive white painters pants sagged down over his big fat butt as he waddled toward his van.

My attention was drawn back to the kids. I attempted to respond to each of their questions. At the same time, I noticed how each of them resembled their dad. All had the same blond hair he and I did, and all three of them were fat. Joyce, the oldest, was actually only chubby. Jennifer was fat, and Junior was really fat, as wide as he was tall and a miniature version of his dad

We reached Jimmy’s van and got my bags placed and the kids settled. Each of the kids wanted me to sit next to them, but Jimmy finally said, “Look kids, Uncle Chuck is my kid brother, so he’s gonna sit in the front next to ME!” We all laughed, and were soon on our way out of the airport.

Soon, we left the airport area and were headed toward Jimmy’s house. Of course, I didn’t have a clue where we were. After about 10 minutes, little Junior’s voice piped up from the back seat, “Remember, Daddy, you said that if we were good we’d stop at McDonald’s.” The two girls chimed in, “Yeah, Daddy!” Jimmy turned, gave me a big smile, and said, “Yeah, kids, I did say that. Let’s have Uncle Chuck decide if you were good or not!”

Of course, I said, “Yeah, Jimmy, they’ve been great. I think we should stop!” I was kind of hungry anyway—the airline didn’t serve anything but peanuts on both legs of my flight and I only had time at O'Hare to grab a hot dog as I changed planes. My brother gave me a big smile and said, “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m kinda hungry myself!” as he patted his huge belly, which was brushing up against the steering wheel. The kids all happily called out to me, “Thanks, Uncle Chuck!”

We got to McDonald’s and Jimmy went to order while the kids and I went to get seats. I sat in a booth, but Joyce said to me, “Uncle Chuck, we don’t sit in booths here because my daddy can’t fit in them, so we have to find a table.” So, we moved. Jimmy came to our table with five supersized quarter pounder with cheese meals, and an extra quarter pounder with cheese for himself.

We all dug in without saying much. I figured this was going to be dinner and it had been a while since I had last eaten. My two nieces didn’t finish all their fries and so Jimmy took their leftovers and gave Jennifer’s fries to me and ate Joyce’s himself. The supersize meal had filled me up but I managed to force down the leftover fries. As I was finishing, Jimmy said to Junior, “OK, Junior, are you going to finish all that? If not, pass it over to me.” Much to my surprise, my 7 year old nephew said, “No, Daddy, I’m going to eat it all” with a big smile on his face. I was stuffed after the meal and here was my nephew still shoving in the food. I noticed that Jimmy looked proudly at Junior as his son finished the whole meal.

We all finished and headed out to the van. After we pulled back onto the highway, Jimmy said to the kids, “Now kids, remember, when we get home and have dinner, don’t forget that you’re all going to clean your plates, right? Remember that your mom goes to a lot of trouble to cook great meals for us and we don’t want to make her feel bad by not eating all that she fixes, right?” “Yes, Daddy” chorused the three voices in the back seats. I began to get an idea about the reason for the size of my brother, nieces, and nephew. At the same time, I was relieved—Jimmy in person was the same nice guy I remembered from when I was a little kid. He was so cool!

Soon, we arrived at my brother’s home in Paoli, a suburb of Philadelphia. As I entered the house, my sister-in-law Emily came running to the front door and smothered me in kisses. She said how happy she was to see me and to have me as part of the family from now on. I could see why my mom had described Emily to me as “a very nice person”; she sure was very sweet and welcoming to me. As we stood in the entrance way and talked, I confess I checked Emily out. She was about 5'9", blonde hair and blue eyes, real pretty, and—you guessed it—very heavy. She was just big all over—huge breasts, which stressed the fabric of the t-shirt she was wearing and wide hips and enormous thighs which were encased in a pair of jeans which seemed to be painted on.

Emily then said, “Now, Jimmy, we’re going to have dinner in about an hour and a half, so take Chuck and show him the house and give him a chance to freshen up.” We were going to eat in 90 minutes? I was real full, but I remembered what my brother had told the kids when we left McDonald’s, so of course I didn’t say anything.

My new house was a large multi-level. There was a “granny apartment” on the ground floor—a bedroom, bath, small living room, and a kitchenette. This was where I was going to stay. Jimmy told me that he and Emily thought I might want some privacy sometimes although I was welcome to spend as much time with the family as I wanted. On the main level was a large living room, a dining room, a large kitchen (delicious aromas of dinner cooking came from the kitchen as we passed by), a family room, the master bedroom/bath, and then on the upper level were four bedrooms, one for each of the kids and a guest bedroom, and more bathrooms. Jimmy then showed me the property. There was a large patio with a built-in barbeque next to a big swimming pool. Jimmy pointed out how far the property went. The house sat on a couple acres of ground.

We heard Emily calling that dinner was ready and headed back to the house. Jimmy said to me, “Chuck, I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here. It’s always been my dream to have you come and live with us. I feel like I have 11 years to make up to you. This is your home now. Over the weekend, we’ll talk more about your plans for work or school or whatever. Right now, just make yourself at home and get to know Emily and the kids.”

Dinner was a huge spread, like a Thanksgiving feast. Jimmy, Emily, and the kids all had seconds and even thirds. I had to force myself to eat “firsts”—the McDonald’s meal had filled me up, but I pushed myself. As I cleaned my plate, Emily piled it high again. I must have grimaced or something because Jimmy caught my eye and winked at me! I got the message. I better clean my plate or else Emily’s feelings would be hurt! So, I forced myself. Then, Emily brought out dessert–two pies. One was to be split between Jimmy and me, the other was cut into quarters, one each for Emily and the kids. I begged off, telling Emily I was jetlagged, and she said she’d save it for later. Gosh, I was already so stuffed!

I offered to help with the cleaning up and that gave me a chance to talk more with Emily. We talked about my mom and stuff like that. Then, I went into the family room to watch TV with Jimmy and the kids and Emily soon joined us. It didn’t take long for the snacking to start! Leftovers from dinner, bowls of ice cream, sandwiches.

My two nieces got into a minor squabble because both said they wanted to fix me a sandwich. I was so stuffed, I was going to say no, but before I could my brother said, “Girls, why don’t you each fix Uncle Chuck a sandwich. Joyce, you can make him peanut butter and jelly and Jennifer, you make cream cheese and jelly. Junior, you can bring Uncle Chuck a nice big glass of milk. We’ll see which sandwich Uncle Chuck likes best.” Jimmy winked at me and I knew I’d better make room for the sandwiches and milk. I didn’t want to disappoint the kids. The kids soon came with the food, and the girls waited for me to pass judgment. Of course I said that both were equally good! (They were, too. I had never had cream cheese and jelly before—I guess cream cheese wasn’t on Beau’s list of healthy food. Cream cheese and jelly sandwiches immediately became one of my favorites.)  By the time I went to sleep that night, my stomach was swollen like a tight round basketball. I had never eaten so much in my life!

That first evening set the tone for eating at my new home. Emily always prepared three huge, delicious meals every day. Breakfast was always hot cereal with sugar and cream, plenty of buttered toast, pastries, eggs, some kind of meat—bacon, sausage, ham, or what soon became my favorite–scrapple. (Scapple is a Philadelphia area specialty—pork, cornmeal and spices cooked together and made into a loaf, then cut into slices and fried in butter. Delicious!) On Sunday mornings, pancakes were added, with Jimmy doing the cooking. Lunches were always mouth-wateringly tasty, too. I soon discovered that the first dinner I had at the house wasn’t a special welcoming feast, like I thought that evening—it was just a standard dinner!

The next day, Saturday, my first full day at my new home, my nieces and nephew showed me where the snacks were kept—there was a whole kitchen closet filled with family-sized packages of chips, pretzels, containers of nuts, cookies, candy, and boxes of every snack cake you could think of, like twinkies, but especially snack cakes, pies, and pastries made by Tastykake, another Philadelphia area favorite. When I asked my niece Joyce if her mom or dad limited the amounts of snacks the kids could eat, she looked at me surprised and said, “Oh no, Uncle Chuck, just as long as we eat everything at mealtimes and clean up the mess, we can snack on what we want.”

I soon got into the routine of snacking frequently just like everyone else in the family did. In addition to the contents of the snack cabinet, there were always leftovers from dinner, freshly made pies and cakes, ice cream, and sandwiches to be made and enjoyed. And, there was always plenty of whole milk, white or chocolate, or orange juice in the refrigerator to wash down whatever I was eating. (Emily didn’t like the kids to drink soda because it was bad for their teeth). My nieces really got a kick out of making snacks for me, too, just like they did for their dad. I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I always ate everything they made for me, even if I wasn’t hungry. Just as my niece told me, neither Emily nor Jimmy minded how much I snacked since I ate heartily at every meal. I couldn’t help it. Everything tasted so good, and it made me feel really part of the family when I ate like they did.

Later that afternoon, Jimmy and the kids were out at the pool, and Emily and I were inside talking as she was making some more pies. She was just so friendly, interested in me and my hopes, and happy to answer my questions about the Philadelphia area, and especially, about the family.

After the pies were put in the oven, she took me out into the family room. One whole wall was covered with pictures of the family. There were pictures of me as I was growing up, which my mom had sent them, and pictures of my mom too. There were plenty of pictures of Jimmy, Emily, and the kids, of course, and Emily explained each one of them to me. The, she brought out the scrapbooks. Emily had scrapbooks full of pictures, all nicely labeled, which really told the story of the family over the years. I was so eager to catch up on lost time that I found every picture real interesting.

As I turned the pages of the scrapbooks, one thing I noticed was the change in Jimmy over the years. At the beginning, after he first came east and met Emily, he was slim and trim, just like me.  The first picture showed Jimmy  in a bathing suit. His six pack abs and toned pecs, just like mine, were very obvious. He had one arm stretched around Emily’s big waist and his hand rested on  her plump lovehandle. Emily was snuggled against Jimmy’s chest, her massive right breast pushing against his left pec.. In her left hand, she was holding a fully loaded foot-long hot dog against Jimmy’s open mouth. He had a big smile on his face! Every picture from that beach party showed trim and muscular Jimmy eating: a mound of potato salad which covered a whole plate, a huge slab of pie a la mode, a triple hamburger layered with cheese and bacon.

When Emily showed me those pictures, she started reminiscing. “The first time I met Jimmy, I fell for him right away. He was such a nice guy, and so handsome too. And, Chuck, don’t tell Jimmy I’m telling you this, but on our first date, he told me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever met and he actually proposed to me. And I’m still surprised that I actually said yes! Of course, I think he’s even better looking now than he was when we got married…” She blushed, stopped suddenly, and resumed “…oh Chuck, I’m sorry to go on and on, but I love Jimmy so much! Don’t mind me.”

The following pictures in the album  gave a complete record of Jimmy and Emily’s life together.

When Emily and Jimmy got married (they were both 19 and he had been working construction for a year), the pictures of the wedding showed that Emily was already almost as heavy as she was now. You could see that Jimmy’s face had rounded out  during the year since they met and he had a small double chin and round rosy cheeks.  His suit jacket was unbuttoned (as if it were too small) and the front of Jimmy’s dress shirt strained to cover a pot belly which bulged over the waistband of his dress pants. There were pictures of Jimmy and Emily dancing which showed that his butt had gotten real big and bulky and stuck out even  more than his belly! I was stunned to see how much he had changed in that one year, but of course I didn’t say anything to my sister-in-law.

After the wedding pictures, I could see that every picture of an anniversary, christening, birthday, or other family event over the years showed Jimmy getting steadily heavier. His face got fuller, his body got wider and wider, his belly got bigger and bigger and rounder and rounder and hung lower and lower, and you could  see how from year to year he was developing the enormous fat man boobs, truck tire size lovehandles, and huge thick thighs he had now.

Wow! I thought to myself that it was so cool to see how happy Jimmy was over the years. In every picture, he had a huge smile on his face. You could just see how much he loved his family and was enjoying life. After eleven years spent with Beau and my mom, it was so nice to see what a loving family my brother Jimmy had. I made up my mind to do all I could to fit in with my brother’s family.

The next day, Sunday, Jimmy took me to see his main base yard and office and we brought little Junior with us. Keyser Contractors had been started 10 years before by Jimmy, with some financial help from Emily’s family. Business was booming. Jimmy specialized in building homes, commercial buildings, things like that. At any one time, there were more than half a dozen jobs going on. Jimmy and I talked about my plans. He offered to pay for me to go to college, whatever. I told him that I did want to go to college, but I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to major in, and I really had thought about taking a year off from school to work, anyway.

Jimmy offered me a job as a laborer. He explained that I’d be just another employee of Keyser Contractors, even if my name was Chuck Keyser! He said, “Laborers do all the heavy work, but you’ll learn the business from the ground up.” Jimmy laughed as he added, “Sometimes when I’m stuck behind my desk in the main office, I wish I could go back to being just a laborer again! But business is good so I put up with the desk stuff and get out to the job sites as often as I can.” We agreed that I’d start as soon as possible. I was to get the pay and benefits which any other new hire with a high school diploma would get.

When I asked Jimmy how much room and board he wanted me to pay, he said, “For the past eleven years, I’ve wanted you to live with us, Chuck. Emily and I agreed that you should save your money for the future. Plus, I expect that once you get settled you’re going to have a social life, and you’ll need money for that too. And speaking of your life, that SUV in the garage at home is for you to use. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go down so you can get your Pennsylvania driver’s license, and we’ll get you some work clothes too.” I was so overwhelmed at my brother’s kindness, I didn’t know what to say except, “Thanks, Jimmy”. He gave me a big smile and I noticed that there were tears in his eyes. He was so cool!

Before we said anything more, we were interrupted by Junior’s voice calling from another corner of the baseyard. Jimmy and I walked over to find Junior atop a pile of 2 by 4’s. He had climbed up to the top, but couldn’t get down! I ran over and positioned myself to lift him off the pile. Jimmy called to me, “Watch your back, he’s a big boy!” Jimmy was right, I hoisted Junior up and off the pile, but gosh, he was even heavier than he looked. Once Junior was on solid ground, Jimmy scolded him and Junior sheepishly went over to the van while Jimmy and I went more slowly. Jimmy noticed me rubbing my back, laughed and said, “See, Chuck, I told you he was heavy. I think Emily told me he weighs  150.” I was surprised but didn’t say anything. 7 years old and already 150 lbs! I didn’t weigh that much until I was a sophomore in high school! (That was the only time I’ve ever heard anybody mention the weight of anyone in the family.)

On the way back home from the Keyser Contractors baseyard, Jimmy said to me, “How about getting some coffee?” Of course I agreed. That was how I was introduced to that institution of the Delaware Valley—Wawa! Think of a convenience store like 7-11 but with all the food, coffee, and drinks much fresher, tastier, and better, including fresh made hoagies (sub sandwiches to you non-Pennsylvania-South Jersey-Delaware people) and a huge selection of snack foods. There must be a Wawa every quarter mile or so in the Philadelphia area, very convenient for stopping for lunch, a snack, or whatever!

At the Wawa, Jimmy and I got coffee and Jimmy picked up half a dozen small Tastykake fruit pies, three for him and three for me. As Jimmy was paying for this, Junior came up carrying a family size bag of chips and a big container of dip, and sheepishly said, “Daddy, I know I was wrong to climb on the pile of wood. Can I have these anyway?” Jimmy smiled, said, “OK son, just make sure you don’t do that again. It could be dangerous” and paid for everything. As we headed to the van, we watched Junior open the bag of chips even before we got into the van. Jimmy said softly to me, “He’s really a good kid. I’m glad he’s learned his lesson. And besides, he likes his snacks so much. I just can’t say no to him!” We got into the van and headed out on to the street.

We drove around for a while so I could get oriented to the area.  Jimmy drove past the jobs Keyser Contractors was working on and talked about each one, and then we headed for home and dinner. Damned if Junior hadn’t eaten all the chips and dip before we got home, and of course, Jimmy and I finished our coffee and pies, too.

My first job assignment was a new doctor’s office close to the King of Prussia mall. I fit right in as a worker at Keyser Contractors. The job was actually kind of interesting, seeing how the building took shape over time. We even put in the landscaping. The crew I worked with was mostly young guys, some my age, and I made some good friends. The workday started at 7:30 a.m. at the baseyard, then we went to the job site, and we ended back at the baseyard at 4:30 p.m.

Our lunch break was an hour long and we usually headed to the nearest Wawa for hoagies, some kind of dessert, and something to drink. I usually got a quart of whole milk (it just tasted so good with those delicious hoagies) or hot coffee with plenty of cream and sugar when the weather was cold. Sometimes, we’d hop into one of the trucks and head off to buy other Philly-area specialties. Cheesesteaks, any kind of Italian food, huge soft pretzels smeared with mustard—I loved them all! We took breaks for 20 minutes mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Emily always packed me a bag of cookies or some home made brownies or something like that and a liter container of orange juice for the breaks.

I gradually got to know people and have a social life. Pizza and beer on the weekends with some of the guys I worked with as we played cards or whatever. I met some girls, too, and went out some, but didn’t really find anyone special. I wasn’t ready to settle down anyway.

I quickly fit in as part of Jimmy and Emily’s close family. Lots of love and lots of good food, too, whatever I wanted and whenever I wanted it. My appetite grew quickly along with my capacity, and in a few weeks I was putting away thirds at every meal without a second thought and I automatically headed for the snack cabinet or the refrigerator if I hadn’t had anything to eat for a while. No matter how much I ate the day before, I woke up starving every morning, mouth watering at the thought of what Emily was going to cook that day.

Outside of my strenuous job as a construction laborer, my physical activity slowed down. Weekdays, I came home from a hard day at the jobsite looking forward to dinner and then a comfortable evening in front of the television with the family. I mostly just sprawled on one couch in the family room while Jimmy sprawled on the other watching TV. The only time I moved from the couch was when I went to the kitchen to get a refill on the snacks. Even then, one of the kids usually volunteered to bring me something tasty, so I guess I didn’t move very much. On weekends, the most strenuous thing I did was toss around a football with Junior and Jimmy (no running, just tossing the ball—if the ball went wild, it was Junior’s job to hustle after it and return it to Jimmy or me).

I kept up my interest in sports, but I went from being an active participant in California to being a spectator in Philadelphia. Jimmy was a fan of all the Philadelphia pro teams, and I quickly became one too. Depending on the season, Jimmy, Junior and I watched all the Eagles, Flyers, 76'ers, and Phillies games that we could on cable, while Emily and the girls kept a steady stream of delicious snacks coming to us from the kitchen. All the physical activity I had been doing in California was forgotten as I happily adapted to the lifestyle of Jimmy and his family. Besides, during the winter, it was just too cold outside to do much.

I think I mentioned earlier that when I left California I had a surfer’s tan. Up until the end of September, I managed to keep my tan, even though we only went down the shore to Ocean City  in South Jersey a couple of weekends. (I hadn’t brought my surfboard from California with me, and the water was somehow different from the Pacific Ocean, so I didn’t do much swimming, much less surfing.)

Most of the guys I worked with took off their shirts in warm weather and of course I did too. So, I kept my tan, from the waist up anyway, until mid-September. To my embarrassment, the first couple days I started working I got the nickname from my work mates of “Buff Boy” because of my six-pack abs! After a couple of months, that nickname disappeared (looking back, that was around the same time my six-pack disappeared too). Suddenly, though, in the middle of September, it turned COLD! Well, not cold like it got later in the winter, but to me, raised in southern California, temperatures in the low 60’s made me put away all thoughts of working shirtless. Pretty soon, we were all wearing heavy sweatshirts, heavy flannel shirts, and down vests when we worked outside.

Time went by pretty fast. Autumn came and went, we had some snow right before Christmas, I enjoyed celebrating the holidays as a part of Jimmy and Emily’s loving family, we had more snow and cold weather, and then finally it was early April. There came the day in early April when I finally was able to take my shirt off at work again and try to start a tan. This one day (in fact it was the day of my 19th birthday the first week in April) the temperature suddenly rose into the high 80’s and it was HOT!

So off came my shirt. I didn’t expect any reaction. All the other guys on the crew, like me, were shirtless that day. During our morning break, I was sitting eating my morning snack with my work mates when one of them suddenly said to me, “Hey Chuck, look at you! You’re not ‘Buff Boy’ anymore. We’re gonna have to call you 'Belly Boy’ now!”

I looked down at the white round fat pot belly which was ballooning over the waistband of my low-slung jeans. On each side of it were bright red lines—stretch marks! I knew I had been putting on some weight—since I bought my first work clothes the previous June, every couple months I’d have to buy jeans, overalls, and even jockey shorts the next size up. I had started with size 30, and at that point in early April, size 40 relaxed fit jeans were real tight on me.  I must have blushed or something at the “Belly Boy” crack because one of the other guys said, “Hey, don’t worry about the belly, Chuck. Just look at the rest of us, man. Having a belly goes with working construction!” We all laughed, and I went back to finishing my bag of cookies. I confess, I didn’t give any more thought to my weight. Life was going great, and who cared what size I had to buy?

Even though I spoke with my mom on the cell phone every week, I was surprised when at the beginning of June she reminded me that I had promised to visit her after spending a year in Pennsylvania. When I offered to send her the money so that she could fly east to visit the whole family and see the kids, she declined. She had to work overtime and couldn’t take a vacation since Beau’s fitness training business wasn’t going so well and he had lost a lot of their savings through bad investments. So, I reconciled myself to flying west for a week to visit her.

When I told my plan to Jimmy and Emily and the kids that night at dinner, the kids all said, “You’re coming back, aren’t you, Uncle Chuck?” I said I definitely was. Jimmy and Emily looked relieved when I said that. I was due a week’s vacation anyway, so I booked my round-trip flight for a week at the end of June.

When it came time for the trip, Emily packed me some food to take on the plane, a bakery box with eight pieces of cold fried chicken, a dozen buttered home made biscuits, and a dozen 4” home made mini cherry pies. That provided me with lunch and some snacks for the trip. The plane trip itself was OK, but it seemed to me that the seats had shrunk since I last flew a year before.

My mom met me at LAX. Lots of hugs and tears. Then, we drove to my old home. I asked her how my old friends were doing and she mentioned that she had run across some of them at the mall and they were looking forward to seeing me. She also mentioned that Beau wasn’t going to be there for most of the week—he was in northern California with one of his rich clients. Frankly, I was happy I wouldn’t have to see him for a while. Once back at my mom’s house—I thought of Jimmy and Emily’s place in Pennsylvania as my real home now—I called some of my old buddies, three guys named Frank, Bill, and Joe. We agreed to meet at the mall the next day.

My mom went to work early the next day. When I got up, I put on one of my “Keyser Contractors” t-shirts (I confess I wanted to show off to my friends) and my newest pair of jeans shorts. I hadn’t worn them before. (None of the shorts I had worn last summer fit me, and I had bought these just before the trip. I was in a hurry at the store and just grabbed the next size up without trying them on.) The new shorts were tight on me, but I got them buttoned after a while and my thoughts quickly turned to breakfast.

All I could find for breakfast in the house was some skim milk, toast, and diet jam, so I headed to Bob’s Big Boy for some real food. It wouldn’t be the huge delicious home cooked breakfast I had come to look forward to over the past year, but it definitely would be better than watery skim milk and that other diet crap. (For the rest of my week in California, I ended up buying my own food. I had brought plenty of spending money with me, and there’s all kinds of fast food places in the L.A. area, so I didn’t go hungry. My mom was working super long hours and she didn’t have time to cook for me anyway.)

After a satisfying breakfast at Bob’s Big Boy I headed to the mall and got to where my buddies and I had agreed to meet, the food court. I was early so I grabbed a snack at Cinnabon while waiting. Back home in Pennsylvania with the time difference, I’d be having my lunch already at work and I was still kind of hungry. Suddenly I heard my friends calling out, “Hey there he is”, all that kind of stuff. The three of them. my closest buddies who I grew up with, all rushed me and we exchanged hugs and wassup’s.

The next thing out of the mouths of all three of them was “What happened to you, Chuckie?” “Yeah, what happened, dude?” “Man, Chuckie, just look at you!” I didn’t know what they meant so I said, “What are you guys talking about? It’s the same old me!”

“Oh no, it’s not the same old you! You got a pot belly now!” said Frank. “And titties, too, dude!” said Joe as he grabbed a handful of my left man boob and shook it. And then Bill, who was standing behind me, aid “Hey guys, Chuckie’s wearing size 42 relaxed fit shorts. That’s what the label says, and check the size of this muffin top and fat ass on him!” Frank added, “Size 42?, and his pot belly’s hanging over his waistband too! Damn, Chuckie, you’re a tub now!” They all laughed while I blushed. During the past year, I guess I had put on some weight, but nobody ever said anything to me except for that one time at work in April. Even my mom hadn’t said anything when she met me yesterday.

But my next thought was, who gives a damn? My life was going good. I didn’t even know what I weighed and didn’t care. At Jimmy and Emily’s the topic of weight never came up. So, I just brushed off what my old buddies were saying. finished my heavily-buttered cinnamon roll, and we got on with the business of catching up with each other and planning on what we were going to do for the next days while I was back visiting my mom.

One more thing my buddies gave me some static about—how I talked! I guess I had picked up a Philadelphia accent over the previous year. (If you don’t know what I mean, just ask somebody from the Philadelphia area to say “boat” or “coke”.)

The five days I spent with my old buddies went by pretty fast. Going to the beach with them every day and hanging out with them was great, but they continued to give me static about my size and about how much I ate! I guess I was just in the habit of eating more now and I needed to make food stops pretty often. Wherever we stopped,I always treated the guys to whatever they wanted when I placed my order. On the day before I was to fly back to Philly, when  we stopped for a snack (at my request) on the way to Malibu, Frank said, “Gee Chuckie, we’re gonna miss you when you leave, but if you stayed any longer, we’d all get as fat  as you, dude! Nah, just kidding, man”.

The guys also kidded me about my surfing. I went out on my old board a couple of times the first day, but I was just so out of practice. I was less agile now and getting up on my board and catching the waves took a lot more effort now than a year ago. So, I ended up relaxing on the beach watching Bill, Frank, and Joe ride the waves while I checked out the girls, dozed, thought of my family back in Pennsylvania, and snacked on whatever I could find.

There was this hot dog stand right across the road from our favorite beach, and I found out the first day that they had great hot dogs and low prices. I had been going to that beach since I was a kid, but this was the first time I ever thought to get food there and for that week I became a steady customer, buying three or four at a time while my friends were out on the waves. Man, those hot dogs were great! You could get them boiled, steamed, or fried in butter (my favorite) and you could ask for the buns to be toasted and buttered and have cheese melted on top of the dog. Plus, they had great take-out Mexican food, too. Hmmm, delicious!

Bill, Frank, and Joe kidded me about me about just relaxing on the beach and snacking, calling me “Fat Chuckie”, but hey, my life had changed over the past year and I deserved a week off just to kick back, relax, laze around, and snack whenever I felt like it. It was my vacation, right?

The day before I was due to go back home to Philadelphia, my mom mentioned to me that Beau was coming back the next morning. Oh great! I had been hoping to avoid him, but I’d have to put up with him for a couple of hours before I headed to the airport.

The next morning, I got up and packed. Knowing that I’d have to at least say hello to Beau, I put on my jeans shorts and one of my “Keyser Contractors” t-shirts. (Just wanted to show off to him, I know.) When I heard Beau arrive, I was watching TV and eating a bag of Chips Ahoy cookies (almost as delicious as Emily’s home made cookies!) and drinking a quart of chocolate milk I had bought for myself. I didn’t say anything until my mom and Beau came into the living room and my mom said, “Aren’t you going to say hello to Beau, Chuckie?”

I stood up and said hello. The first words out of Beau’s mouth were, “Well, well, didn’t I tell you last year to watch it, kid? Just like I thought, you’ve turned into a baby blimp. A few more years and you’ll be as huge as that big blimp brother of yours.” I was all set to tell him where to shove it when I caught my mom’s eye. She was silently shaking her head “No” and I realized, she’s going to have to live with this creep while I’m out of here for good in an hour. So I just said, “Yeah, Beau, I guess I have filled out a little” and gave him a big smile.

He replied, “How much do you weigh, kid?” I told him I didn’t know, which was true. I hadn’t weighed myself for the past year, since I left California last June. Why should I? Who cared how much I weighed? Beau replied seriously, “Well, kid, let’s get you on to the scale like we used to and see what it says. Then, I can give you a diet and fitness plan so you can drop the weight before any more damage is done.” I realized the guy was being serious and not sarcastic, and I decided to play along with him, just to keep the peace for an hour. I went inside the bedroom, took off my t-shirt and shorts, and came out wearing my jockeys.

I met Beau in the room he had set up as a home gym, where he had the doctor’s scale (I remembered it was Jimmy’s bedroom many years ago when I was a little kid and before Jimmy went east). I could hear my mom bustling around in the kitchen.

As I walked into the home gym room, Beau’s eyes opened wide. “My God, baby blimp, the damage is worse than I thought. Look at that flab jiggle as you walk. I can see you have muscles in your arms and chest and quads…” (thanks, buddy, I thought, I’ve been working hard in construction for a year—what did you expect?) “…but you’re just covered with ugly fat. Kid, you used to have great pecs, and now look—they’ve inflated up with fat into two big round tits. Looks like you need a DD cup. And check out those lovehandles, too. Plus, it looks like your bellybutton is drowning in the flab on your fat pot belly. And look at the way your fat ass balloons out! And those stretchmarks!  They look like a map of the Interstate Highway system! Jeezus, aren’t you embarrassed?” Hell, no!, I thought, but again I didn’t say anything. I put on a serious expression and said “Well….”

Beau actually thought I was serious. He was falling for my bullshit routine! I got on the scale ad Beau fiddled around and the scale balanced out at 274! Beau turned red and his eyes bulged and I thought he was going to have a stroke or something. He went to his desk and checked a notebook. What was he doing? Then he said, “According to my log, last time I weighed you a year ago, you were 170!”

My response was to try to look shocked. Actually, I was kind of impressed—104 lbs gained in a year. Pretty impressive!

Beau then continued, “We gotta do something about this RIGHT NOW! I can’t let anybody see you looking like this. What are people going to think of me as a fitness trainer if they see that you’re a baby blimp fat boy! Right?”

“Right, Beau,” I said, realizing that it wasn’t about me at all, it was about Beau’s image. That’s all he cared about. So, I continued to play along with him.

Beau just kept on talking. “Great, kid! Someday soon, I just know I’m going to have my own nationally syndicated exercise show. I’ll feature you on the show as one of my success stories. If only I could persuade your big blimp brother to get with the program, too. It’s not gonna be good for my image if some supermarket tabloid digs up the fact that my step-son in Pennsylvania is a big overfed fat slob with a big overfed family. Maybe I can get to him through you….”

I was getting angry at this point. Who the hell was he to put down my brother and his family like that? They were great, loving people. Beau and his big talk! What a shithead! But I thought of my mom and looked at my watch. 30 minutes more before I headed to LAX and then I’ll never see this bastard again, ever. “Right, Beau. I’ll do all I can….” I purposely didn’t say what it was I was going to do.

“Great, kid. Just keep one thing in mind when you’re following the plan I’m going to make for you. Who do you want to look like? Me…?” and his flexed his biceps and made his pecs jump at this point, “…or that overfed blimp fat ass brother of yours?”

My reply? “You can count on me to make the right choice, Beau.”

“OK, kid, I’ll work on the plan while you and your mom go to the airport, and when I’m finished, she’ll mail it to you. Don’t worry, I’ll get this blubber off you real quick and then I’ll put you on a maintenance plan.” Boy, what a prick! Everything was centered on him and his image. No wonder I could sense that Jimmy didn’t like him back when I was a little kid.

Beau was busy writing as I headed out the door. I quickly changed back into my clothes, picked up my bag, and went to the living room. My mom looked at me and said, “Everything OK between you and Beau?” “Sure, Mom,” I replied with a smile on my face, “when you come back from taking me to LAX, Beau will tell you all about it.” She smiled and looked relieved. I felt sorry for her.

I went back into the home gym room and said to Beau, “I’ll be on the lookout for your plan, Beau!” Yeah, right! When I received it, it was gonna go straight into the trash.

My mom dropped me off at LAX and I went through security screening. Gosh, I was hungry. I headed to McDonald’s on the main concourse and bought a supersize quarter pounder with cheese meal, three fish sandwiches with extra tartar sauce, and a strawberry shake. After I finished, I noticed that they were selling quarter pounder meal box lunches meant for people to eat on the plane. I bought three of them and a liter bottle of orange juice to hold me until I arrived home in Paoli and I could get a real meal.

I arrived in Philly and Jimmy and the kids were there to meet me. After we hugged, I asked, “How’s Emily?” “Mom is home cooking a special welcome home dinner for you, but she said it’s a surprise!”, Junior said seriously. Jimmy and I laughed while Joyce and Jennifer gave Junior dirty looks!

It was good to be home!

We soon arrived back at the house. Emily met us at the door and I gave her a big hug and kiss. It was so good to see her! I put my bag in my room downstairs and headed to the kitchen, where Jimmy and Emily and the kids were talking. Emily smiled and said to me, “I understand you know, Chuck, that I’m making a special surprise welcome home meal for you…” My mouth started to water and my stomach rumbled with anticipation as Emily looked at Junior at this point (he had a sheepish look on his face) and continued, “…so why don’t you men go outside while the girls and I finish preparing dinner. It should be ready in a couple of hours.”

As we headed outside, little Junior leading the way with some cookies in his hand, Jimmy said, “Hey, it sure is warm today! Let’s get more comfortable here” and took off his t-shirt. Junior and I followed suit immediately. It was a lot more comfortable to be shirtless in the late June heat and humidity.

Jimmy was wearing a pair of jeans shorts like the ones I had on. As we headed to the wooden lounge chairs by the pool (Jimmy had an extra wide one, specially made for him), I caught a glimpse of the label on Jimmy’s shorts. Size 62! As he waddled along, Jimmy’s enormous man boobs bounced and jiggled and his huge wobbling belly and lovehandles erupted over the waist of the shorts. The shorts were stretched to the max and straining to cover Jimmy’s massive wide behind, but they couldn’t do it. The tops of his fat buttcheeks ballooned over the top of the shorts, showing three or four inches of his deep buttcrack.

Jimmy and I sat down. Jimmy said to Junior, “Son, go into the house and bring us all some cold orange juice and some snacks. It’s going to be a while until we eat dinner.” We sat and talked about my trip, about mom, and how things were going at work. Neither one of us mentioned Beau at all. As we talked, I thought how cool my big brother was—just a great guy!

We stopped talking for a minute and Jimmy closed his eyes. I guessed he was dozing. From what he had told me, the last week had been real busy at work and he was probably tired.

As we sat there, I looked over at Jimmy. For the first time, I wondered how much he weighed. Of course, I’d never ask him, but I thought, gee, if I’m 274 and size 42 is tight on me, Jimmy has to weigh at least 425-430 to be stretching his size 62’s. His wide lovehandles, huge butt and enormous thighs completely filled the seat of the extra-big chair and hung over the sides. His overinflated man boobs, two huge bulging balloons thatched with blond hair through which two big stretched pink nipples peeked, contentedly sat on top of his magnificent big fat belly. His huge round belly rested on his lap, almost reaching to his knees, and hung down between his hefty thighs. His enormous meaty shoulders and arms completed the picture—he not only was a cool guy, he looked so cool, too!

After glancing over at Jimmy, I looked down at myself as I relaxed in the wooden large chair. Of course, I was nowhere as big as Jimmy, but I was pleased to see how my big pot belly ballooned over the top of my shorts, even though I had opened the top button to make myself a little more comfortable. I grabbed a handful of my bellyfat and jiggled it, making my man boobs and lovehandles jiggle and bounce. It was great to see how my big round fat man boobs sat on top of my belly, a smaller version of my brother’s awesome chest. I also looked down at my plump thighs, smaller versions of Jimmy’s impressive tree-trunk upper legs. On each side, left and right, my hefty hips completely filled the seat of the lounge chair. I was really getting a spread on me! Cool!

Earlier that day, Beau had asked me to choose who I wanted to look like, Jimmy or him. I knew then what my choice was, of course, but that moment by the pool confirmed to me that I was going to do all I could to be as much like my cool big brother as possible!

Junior came out and called, “Here’s the snacks!” Jimmy’s eyes opened and he smiled at Junior and me. I took the family-size bag of chips and extra-large container of creamy dip from Junior, balanced the container of dip on top of my pot belly between my big man boobs, opened the bag and the container, and dug in. Jimmy took a big bag of chips, too, and sent Junior back into the house for the orange juice.

Jimmy looked at me and smiled and I smiled back. “Jimmy…” I looked directly at him, “…it’s good to be back home with the family.”

Jimmy replied, “Chuck, we’re all happy you’re back. I missed you—we all missed you! The week you were away reminded me that you’re the best brother I could wish for.”

“Same here, Jimmy, you’re the coolest big brother anyone could have!” I really meant it and he knew it.

Jimmy opened his bag of chips and dug in as I shoved chips with big gobs of dip into my mouth. Damn, I was hungry!

As we both ate, I closed my eyes for a minute and thought to myself. Here I was, just a happy member of the best family going! Life was great and was going to get better.

“Birds are natural fliers,” Mr. Sannon began, addressing his classroom. “It’s instinctual. They need a jumpstart, mind you, and they’ll pick things up through a natural learning process, but the concept of flight, the ability to adjust pitch and roll, and knowing how hard to flare before they land, or how wide to spread their wings to soar, this comes with the territory of being a bird. When they look upward, they don’t see something empty that exists separate from them. Unreachable. They see a road, and they know, innately, that they possess the tools to travel on that road. It’s a bit like us, reaching out toward objects to manipulate them. That’s something our body knows how to do. If we want to affect our world, we use our hands. The tool fits the task. Instinct.”

The classroom collectively nodded a bit. Those who were paying attention, anyway. Which was most, in this case. Flying was an elective course, and being here required certain physical attributes. Typically, students didn’t go to flight class who weren’t personally vested in the idea. Avian eyes stared eagerly back at him, young and excited. Feathers were fluffed with anticipation. The first day was always exciting. The second day was typically cautious and had half as many students.

“You are not birds.” He said flatly.

The class full of decidedly bird-like students looked sidelong at each other, some with bemusement, others with genuine concern that their professor may have taken leave of his senses. But a few remained still, having discerned the meaning of the statement.

“You are Vectors,” He continued, “Which means, at your core, you are a human dressed up in feathers. That grants you a great deal of instinctual ability, yes, but it is human ability, not bird or cat or dog ability. You didn’t learn to lift things by using your beak or your claws, you used your hands. You didn’t learn to hop and fly when you were little, you learned to crawl and walk.” He skipped over an amendment about infancy bypass education. At least, for the moment. “And I’m going to assume the majority of you don’t have baby pictures of mommy throwing up in your mouths.” He smiled a bit at the chorus of gagging, and chuckled.  

“We miss a lot of these obvious cues, thanks to infancy-bypass tanks,” he explained, unable to avoid it further. “I’m betting most of you were putting solid food into your own mouths by the time you actually encountered any. But those of you who did nurse as children instinctively looked for a mammalian chest instead of chewed up bird vomit, which, I assure you, is an entirely un-birdlike thing to do. In short, if you were hoping to leap off a cliff at the end of today’s lesson and take wing under nature’s gentle guidance, I have news for you. At the moment, you have more in common with a rock than a bird, except that you’ll be screaming more on the way down.”

There were chuckles among the students, but they were tempered by the gradual realization that today would be less glamorous than they’d hoped. Sannon took a moment to gauge the reactions. It was easy to pick out the ones who’d never tried to fly, they were generally attentive and agreeable, eager despite the warnings. Unsure yet how cautious they should or shouldn’t be. There was always a group of students who’d had successful glides from playground equipment or rooftops. They tended to lean back in their chairs like they owned the place, confident in their ability and dismissive of the implied danger. He hated that. Parents loved to give their children a taste of flight before these courses to “warm them up,” but all it did was fill them with false security. He’d rather have a blank slate to work with.

Once in a while, there would be one or two in the back with genuine flight experience. Laterals, usually. Illegal at their age, even with their physical condition, but life happens regardless of the convenience of law. It was just a ploy to help sell body sockets anyway, and not everyone could afford one. These children were quiet and distant as they watched, un-involved in the conversations of the other groups. There was none of the posturing here. Despite having the most experience, they were generally the most attentive. Life had not given them the courtesy of doing without their wings, and they had already experienced the fear of that reality. Whatever had driven them to the skies at such a young age, be it anatomy or pressure from some other source, it likely hadn’t left. Half of these students would never try flying again once they came to realize the physical demands, but these few were here to get better at something they couldn’t do without. He had one, today. Lateral raptor of some kind, with a swallowtail. She was perched in the back of the room, waiting, as he spoke.

“We are not well designed for flying,” he continued, speaking over the chatter. “Sorry. It’s a fact. That we can do it at all is pretty impressive; our anatomy isn’t the best for that sort of thing.” he waved a wing limply, which was a little undermined due to the obvious strength in his arms.

“We’re poorly balanced, too heavy, too bulky, and generally not strong enough to do what would be traditionally referred to as regular flying. But with training and discipline, you can get to a point where flying is…” he pondered the word to use. “Reachable. If only for short periods.

“You need to ponder what you’re trying to do, here,” he continued, “understand it in your mind, before you try it. Flying upward to a building top from the ground is the functional equivalent of leaping up a ladder with two hands and no legs, an entire rung at a time instead of alternating, without stopping to rest.” The room dropped its volume level noticeably. Most of them had not considered what the actual physical requirements of a sustained climb were.

“And that’s just getting aloft,” he continued, “then you need to stay there, suspended from that ladder, repeatedly doing chin-ups from the highest rung, until you can find a place to safely drop from rung to rung to the floor, fighting your own weight and momentum, or you fall and die.” The room had silenced now. The inexperienced group were looking nervously back and forth at each other, with lingering glances at arms that had probably barely passed the physical education requirements for their grades. The gliders were slowly realizing that what they’d done before and what they were now facing were substantially different. And there in the back, his veteran. Her breathing had not changed. Her posture had not fallen.

“How…” one of the students asked, “how do you practice something like that?”

Sannon smiled, and looked toward the back.

“It’s Elysium, isn’t it?” he called back to the lateral. She looked surprised to be addressed directly, but nodded. “How do you suggest they practice something like that, Elysium? Is there an easier way? Am I off my mark, here?”

The young kite looked about the room, as if seeking social permission to respond. It was always difficult being singled out. He knew that, and would catch up and apologize later. But they needed to hear it from one of their own. And as he’d expected, her gaze shifted ever so slightly, as he had seen happen in nearly every veteran that had ever graced his classroom on the first day. That realization that these kids were utterly unprepared for what they were facing. The knowledge that if they looked for a shortcut, they would end up broken and battered on the pavement. The need to convey the degree of effort they were facing now.

“Get a ladder.” She responded, and Sannon’s smile widened. He tapped his toggle case, and the closet behind him opened, revealing a rack adorned with rows of long, extending ladders, fully equipped with the grim realization by the classroom that they would, in fact be doing exactly that. He looked back up at the sea of disbelieving stares, and pulled the first ladder off the rack.

“Shall we get started?”

-excerpt from the Full Disclosure lorebook

Hey folks! Fun stuff going on over here with the upcoming lore book. I’d say the text is about 80% written, maybe more, and general assembly has begun. Soon I’ll start working with artists and getting the imagery assembled, and we can move on to funding and publishing! I wanted to give you all a double treat today, so aside from this chapter bumper (each of the corp based chapters in the lore book gets a little slice of life story to help ground you, this one was for MarsCo) Im also going to toss up the in-progress Table of Contents. This isn’t final or finished, but it will give you some hints of things you can expect to see!

History

differences between history and fact

Who knows what and why


Current life

hierarchy of power

anarchy

perceived scarcity

megacorps

hotzones

darkwars

grottos


Corporate rule

advanced looks into corps

MarsCo

ASR

IRPF

TTI

Progenitus

Pulse

Lumen

independents/pirates

rivalry

Secrets


The war

Palemen

masters voice

Corps

trade secrets

lightspeed

body replacement


shadow presidents

Transcendence

hydra

owls

nephilim

legacy memory

natives

near-cuil


Humanity

What was

What remains

2

ok but have u considered: ace bfs kakyoin & jotaro

Into You (2/?)

Summary- After a weekend of being locked away from the rest of civilisation for a whole weekend, you threw yourself back into work, not expecting a ‘special’ visitor.

AN- It’s back! Hope you enjoy, and please send in requests I need reasons not to do homework

Part One

Send In Requests

Originally posted by j-murphy

PART TWO - KNEW BETTER

Time away was exactly what you needed. To be away from everyone and everything, just to disappear for a few days maybe a week or say. Get on a plane and fly far far away from reality and all the problems that you had at home. It sounded amazing.

However that’s not what you got.

Keep reading

Every B.A.P Song But at Once
B.A.P(???)
Every B.A.P Song But at Once

A҉̝͎̹̖̭N͈͈͈͌̀̽͗̐ͨN̵͎̫̳̣̰̙̦̋̏Y̩̮ͫ̓ͣE̹̳̙̺̝̙̮ͣͬͥ͛̽Ợ̣̪̍͋̾N̢̝̮͆̓̂̃͗ͮ̆G͈͖̯̬͕̙͕͂̌͑̉͆ͭ̿H̝̺͔̳̔̋A͚͙͍͚̣̘͐̎̐͊S̡̟͔E̜̣̼͈̠͇̳̒̌ͧỸͧͤ͐̀Ǒ ̴̤̔͛́̌̊Ṳ̼̼͉͉̘̝̎ͧ̓ͦ̔͢R͎͎̓ͭ̉̂ͫI̶̓̍ͭ̀̋͋ ̣̤̙ͤ̾͑̔͠B̘͓́.̰̩͍͚̂͗̊͛̃̑̏A̺̰̪̼͈̱ͪͬ.̞̲̬̥̲̱̳͛̎P̨̗̱͐̓ͧ̄͆ ͣͨ̅͒̀Y̸̋̃̄ͧ̑E͗̆͆S̉ͣ̾ͤ̅͏̝S̞͖̾̿̆ͦỊ̰͔ͯͦ̎͐̔̍ͣR̤͎̲̽̊!͉̞̯̘̒̐͝

I really can’t explain further, just press play. Headphone users beware.

7

Alright, Loud Crowd, there are 55 emojis (actually 57, I believe, but there are 2 that I won’t be using because… reasons), so that means 5 emojis for every Loud. I want to finish the first round soon, though, so I want you to help me decide which Loud should impersonate an emoji. Choose an Emoji (Letter + Number) and the Loud you think would be perfect for that emoji. I’m taking Lori, Luna, Lynn, Lincoln and Lisa, right now (the image is wrong, there’s already a Leni). I’ll try to make them as cute as possible! Reblog or tell me in the comments (in which case, you can reblog anyway, lol).

Those who make the most interesting suggestions (that is, those who inspire me to make them) will be mentioned, of course.


Ok, Loud Crow, tenemos 55 emojis (en realidad 57, me parece, pero hay dosLque no voy a usar porque no), lo cual significa que podré hacer cinco emojis para cada Loud. Si embargo, quiero terminar la primera ronda, así que les pido ayuda para decidir qué Loud debería representar a cada emoji. Elijan un emoji (Letra + Número) y el Loud que creen que sería perfecto para esa situación. Por ahora busco emojis para Lori, Luna, Lynn, Lincoln y Lisa (la imagen está mal, ya hay uno de Leni). Trataré de hacerlos lo más tiernos posible. Reblogueen o díganme en los comentarios (en cuyo caso pueden rebloguear también, lol).

Aquellos que hagan las sugerencias más interesantes (es decir, aquellos que me inspiran a hacerlos) serán mencionados, por supuesto.

Rules and Regulations (Acts of Intimacy #2)

Author’s Note: Here’s the second in my responses to the Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy prompts! This one was requested by @vaultfox​. Thank you so much for sending this in! This one is just shy of 1k words, but I hope you all enjoy anyway :) Feel free to keep sending in the prompts, y’all! Check out this post to see what I’m working on next.

Other stories in the series: Previous Work // Next Work

Prompt: ♝: Reading a book together. Or, I guess data-pad in this instance. :D

Words: 992

AO3 / FF.net / Below the Cut!

Keep reading

6

the night - a playlist by the man who has everything but parents