i was like 13 when i took this

Random but I’ve found old diaries of 13-year-old me… can’t believe I used to be so self-confident (even when it came to doing something dumb!) and would never worry about small things like I do now, as well as about people (if someone didn’t want to be my friend I was just “pfft their problem”). What went wrong since then? Apparently we just don’t realize some things about this world when we’re kids.

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So the first time I fought the Adamantoise it took me about 45 minutes. I heard after the patch on Tuesday that the Ring of the Lucii was buffed (have yet to redo Chapter 13 as Noctis but I have a save file sitting there) anyway…

I heard you could one hit kill the Adamantoise with the ring now so when the quest popped today, I went to see if it worked.

This is the result…LOL From a 45 minute fight to like two mins (cause it’s kind of rng if it kills him or not, sometimes it just damages him or something) I think it took me four times of using the ring for it to finally kill him.

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.

carbonjen  asked:

13. “I made the mistake of thinking ‘This can’t get weirder.’ Sorry.”

This took me forever to get to, because it took me forever to figure out what exactly I wanted to do with this prompt. 
When I finally came up with an idea, it ran away with me. I had a lot of fun writing this! Thank you for sending the prompt in, and I hope you like it!

Prompt is from this list.

____________________________________________

Landing in an alternate dimension was the last thing Jason wanted out of his Friday night.

He supposed it could be worse. Bizarro could have come tumbling through the portal along with him. Navigating a completely different timeline with his new friend by his side would surely make things a lot more difficult.

On another brighter note, Jason had also thankfully landed in Gotham. This version of the city wasn’t too far off from the one he’d grown up in either.

Unfortunately, his ride here was sure to have shown up somewhere on the Bat’s radar. An alternate Bruce was the last person Jason wanted to run into. Who knows what kind of relationship his alternate-self had with the man, and how that relationship effected his willingness to help him. Did he even have an alternate-self?

The question was answered only moments later, when a figure dropped down in front of Jason, cutting him off.

Jason stared at who was most likely his doppelgänger. The red helmet, a few shades darker than his own, stood in the way of him being certain.

The Red Hood grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and slammed his back into the brick wall of the nearest building.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he growled, pressed so threateningly close, their helmets nearly touched. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“I promise you that it’s not,” Jason replied, fighting off every instinct inside of him to not fight back. God this was so fucking weird.

“Then what’s with the get-up, imposter?” Hood demanded, pulling him forward, only to slam him back against the wall.

Jason sucked in a deep breath, before taking a chance, and praying he was right.

“I’m you, asshole. And if you’d let go of me, I could prove it to you,” he gritted out.

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Connor’s backstory

The writers of this show have addressed so many glimpses of Connor’s backstory and it’s really needed right now to understand the choices this character has made. I’m really stressing so I decided to write it myself. 

Picture this:

Connor struggled all his childhood with his “gay stuff". Of course coming out was difficult. Connor might have come out when he was around 13 - 14 years old, his parents didn’t took it so well, his dad stop talking to him at all and eventually left the family after cheating several times on Connor’s mom. Like Michaela implied about Connor having daddy issues to which he responded “Maybe someone can tell something about the guy”. Connor was sent then to a private boarding school in New Hampshire. Since the lacking of a father figure, he started throwing himself at older guys around 18, his physicist tutor for instance. In one of those usual encounters, he got pretty hurt by one of those guys. He hit rock bottom when he tried to commit suicide. He didn’t got that far because one of his teachers or maybe classmates found out. That is when, his mother decided to send him  to therapy to “talk about [his] gay stuff”. He recovered eventually but he kept fooling around with other guys. But he wasn’t happy, sex was only a a way to cope love. So he develop that cocky attitude but it was only a defense mechanism, he doesn’t let anyone in (how ironic) because he’s afraid to be hurt again…

HOW AWESOME THIS BACKSTORY WOULD BE? PETE NOWALK HEAR ME OUT! THIS MUST BE CANNON!

anonymous asked:

0:!!! what are ur thoughts on milos murphy law?

Before I explain I think like I need to say this: Phineas and Ferb was (and is) one of my favorite shows ever !!! It helped me through some bad times and I simply love it, so the main reason i decided to watch (and kinda why i like) mml is because i was used to the writers, the kind of humor and it’s easier for me to talk about it while comparing (which can be weird, and i do appreciate the show by its own, but its better to have the reference i guess ?)

As a short answer, i think it’s a clever show, with some charming characters whose personalities are explored through their actions and i like the way they interact (specially the main trio, my kids). The music is nice, but i think most songs are meh ? or at least for me, but the ones that are good, are so catchy ! 

I really like the jokes in the show, and i think that’s why i enjoy it the most, and as someone said (i dont remember who im sorry), mml is based on un unpredictability, unlike pnf that had an episode formula, but it works really well (sometimes better than others). I really like mml, and while i think my opinion is biased because of how much i loved pnf, the show it’s pretty clever, fun and has a charming cast. I think the fact that i watched like 15 eps in one night/day kinda explain how much i enjoy this show.

and i kinda explain more under the read more cause i have free time and i like to rant

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like you (m) | 01

pairings: min yoongi x reader x park jimin
genre/warnings: angst, romance, smut / themes of heartbreak and mentions of drinking
word count: 13,031
description: former underground rapper, min yoongi took advantage of everything he had and lost it. three years have gone by since you left, content and happy, you’re not sure how things’ll go now he’s finally taken up your offer for help all those years ago.
a/n: i read through this monster not too long ago, and found some spark of inspiration! can’t say when i’ll update for sure but i definitely won’t throw this on the back burner for too long!

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

cr. 


“Your phone’s ringing.”

You were laying in bed after another day of work. At age 23, you were doing well as a talent scout, having a keen eye for the creative scene ever since you were in high school. Those were the days when Namjoon begged you to accompany him to underground rap battles and helped him nurse injuries from his angry opponents. It only seemed logical that your time was spent finding the next big thing.

Your cheeky boyfriend was pouting as his spiel about his day of practices and photoshoots were put to a halt. The sound of your constantly ringing work phone was often silenced by the time you were home though. It was your personal phone that you kept on just in case of any emergencies, so that did pique your interest. Only a few of your closest family members and friends ever dared to contact you there.

“Sorry, babe.” You said, wiping away his feigned sorrow with a quick peck before grabbing your phone. You cooed, “Gimme a sec, yeah?”

He nodded, feeling just as satisfied with that said. “Alright,” His lips pulling into a proper grin once again.

You hadn’t looked at the caller ID when you pressed ‘accept,’ not thinking much of whoever might’ve been calling you. Although you were guessing it was probably Namjoon or something. He usually had some philosophical thing to talk your ear off about.

Before you could say, ‘hello,’ the person on the other line had said, “Y/N?” You felt your smile falter just a little bit and your heart was beating erratically.

“…Yoongi?” You asked in disbelief, rising from the bed.

Jimin was giving you a questioning look, but you mouthed, ‘Later.’ His dark mop of hair nodded before he pulled your free hand over to his lips and pressed a small peck on them.

You had a long story to get through after this conversation. But that was all you could think about now was Yoongi…

“Hey… Y/N.” He breathed deeply into the phone.

You felt a lump in your throat begin to form and your mind seemed to be flashing back to eons ago. It weighed heavily now, being brought back to the time when you were a young, stupid girl in love. What was he doing calling you again after nearly 3 years of silence? Was it the ultimatum you left him?

Your heart trembled at the thought.

“I -um- wanted to take you up on that offer from a few years ago…” He spoke again, answering your unspoken question.

You asked immediately, “What’s that exactly, Yoongi?”

“I… I need your help.”

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when i was like 13, i realized that impersonating as dude online felt good. like it felt good when people thought that i was boy. and also it felt good to play as male character in video games that let you pick the gender. it took me fucking years to realize why it felt so good.

soft-stem  asked:

what did u figure out abt square roots !! :00 --☔️

okay so i found this out when i was like…really tired yesterday so idk if this is actually going to be interesting but,,

basically i started with 144 (12 squared) and subtracted 11 squared (121) from it to get the number 23. then, i took 121 and subtracted 100 (10 squared) from that to get 21. then i took 81 (9 squared) from 100 to get 19. the list went down until i had the numbers 23, 21, 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, and then, finally, 5 (using only square roots i have memorized). so they all have a difference of two!! basically, if you subtract something that is a perfect square from something else that is a perfect square, like 144 - 121 = 23, and then you take the second number used in the equation (in this case, 121) and subtract that from the next perfect square down the list (100) the difference in the final numbers that were subtracted will be two.

additionally, if you take these numbers (23, 21, 19, etc.) and subtract the number that was used to get them (23 - 12 or 21 - 11) you get the numbers 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, and 2. 

i don’t know what i can do with this information, but i just thought it was neat!

The reason I am a Slytherin

So I took the quiz and got Slytherin. Honestly there is a lot of reasons I am a Slytherin like:
• I take no bullshit
• I only enter relationships that benefit me either emotionally or physically
• I live for me and only me and if you want me to live for you, you can fuck off.

However, there is one particular occurrence that I just remembered that is quite telling.

I was about 13 when I was around a friends house. That friend was best friends with a particular British Athletes brother and I also got along with him quite well. Until one night he made a pissy remark that hadn’t angered me all that much, but I jokingly threatened to stomp on his balls. He then told me I wouldn’t do it. I replied with “don’t tempt me” and threateningly hovered my foot above his crotch and he laughed and said something along the lines of, “ladies don’t kick balls”. Do you know what I did? 13 year old me stomped on his balls good and hard. So the moral of the story is:

Don’t tell me I can’t/ won’t do something, cuz I’m a fucking Slytherin and I’ll fucking do it.

anonymous asked:

6, 12, and 13?

🎨 6. When creating a character, do you come up with the visual concept or the written concept first?

Written concept usually O: I think it’s easier (for me) starting with the idea of the story than doing a design and then the story
it took me a lot for characters like Edward, indeed I’m still unsure with his story, to write it based off the design
the other way around, however, it’s done in like a day

💭 12.   Do you fantasize about being any of your characters, or are you more detached?

Actually not at all, because almost everyone of ‘em have got traits of me and their purpose. I’m my own character

sexy beast

🎵 13. Do you create playlists for your characters? 

Yes! I created ‘em in my mind tho, I love to connect characters like Drew and Aiden to song of certain artists (like Mother mother)

lately I’m doing it with Coal and some of mY CHEMICAL ROMANCE’S SONGS

I Didn’t Wake Up Like This - Sonam Kapoor on being a Female Celebrity (Buzzfeed India)

Even after becoming a movie star, it took Sonam Kapoor years to believe she looked the part. In this essay, she’s ready to bust the myth of female celebrity flawlessness.

Like every girl, I spent many nights through adolescence leaning into my bedroom mirror, wondering why my body looked nothing like it should.

Why does my belly crease? Why do my arms jiggle? Why am I not fair? Why are there dark patches under my eyes? Why am I taller than boys my age? Do stretch marks ever go away? Will this cellulite stay forever?

“Itni lambi, itni kaali,” a relative casually let slip at a family gathering. “Shaadi kaun karega?” It confirmed that my greatest insecurities were well-founded.

I didn’t know much at 15. But I knew I could never look like a Bollywood actress.

When I was 13, my family took a trip to Goa. Aishwarya Rai was there vacationing with a friend, and we spent an evening with her. I still remember that in blue jeans and a white tank top, she looked like royalty. It baffled me.

I didn’t know much at 15. But I knew I could never look like a Bollywood actress.

Two years and some surprising life decisions later, Sanjay Leela Bhansali cast me in Saawariya.

Despite being on the cusp of actually being a movie star, I didn’t believe I looked the part. I constantly worried that, if asked to dance in a backless choli, rolls of back fat would give me away as an imposter to the industry. Nobody lines up to buy tickets to see cellulite.

So I embarked on a series of unhealthy behaviours. I dieted serially; sometimes South Beach, other times Atkins. Once, in desperation, I tried a diet that had me eating pineapples all day.

I pushed myself too hard at spin classes, did power yoga for hours at a stretch, and developed an unhealthy relationship with food. Some weeks, desperate to drop a couple of kilos, I would simply not eat.

At 18, I went on a date that I thought went well. Later, the boy told our mutual friend that “Sonam is too big”. I didn’t eat for a day.

(Now, thanks to those dumbass teenage decisions, I’m stuck with acidity for life.)

I had assumed that the self-loathing goes away once you’re on billboards at Juhu Beach. I was so wrong. Far from accepting my body once I was making a living as an actress, I was shown new reasons to hate it.

I had assumed that the self-loathing goes away once you’re on billboards at Juhu Beach.

Articles surfaced online, photos zoomed into my arms and thighs, red circles drawn around the slightest hints of a blemish.

When I had a couple of movies out, Shobhaa De wrote a blog post saying that Sonam Kapoor “just doesn’t cut it in the sex appeal stakes”.

People started calling me flat-chested. I’d never been insecure about my C-cup but I got defensive about it on Koffee With Karan.

Eventually, I didn’t even need the tabloids to point out my flaws – I could look at myself on camera monitors and predict what would be criticised. I still remember the frames I hated immediately: the tight silver dress fromBewakoofiyaan, the song with Neil Nitin in Players, the swimsuit and shorts in Aisha, to name a few.

Of course, scrutiny of female bodies isn’t new, or even restricted to celebrities. I mean, raise your hand if you’ve ever been called “healthy” by a relative, or been given unsolicited advice by a friend about how to lose weight.

Raise your hand if you were told to stay out of the sun so you don’t get dark.

Raise your hand if you started hating your body after somebody else told you how.

Here’s what’s gone wrong:

We’ve been taught that women need to be flawless even when our flawlessness is wildly implausible, sexy even when our sexiness is a break from plot. We’re sprinting through Jurassic Park in heels, fighting supervillains in strapless corsets, being stranded on deserted islands for days without a hint of stubble. Real female bodies are so taboo that hair-removal-cream ads show hairless legs even before the cream is applied.

We’ve been taught that women need to be flawless even when our flawlessness is wildly implausible.

The rules of beauty are strict and it’s almost impossible to win. Anushka Sharma has been skinny-shamed, Sonakshi Sinha has been fat-shamed, Katrina Kaif has been fit-shamed. These are women who are and always have been staggeringly beautiful.

But where there’s a broken system, there’s a solution. The problem is in mainstream culture’s rigid definitions of female beauty. The solution, for me, has been in the women I know.

It’s been a decade since I entered the film industry with my awful self-esteem in tow and, thanks to the female support I’ve had throughout, that self-esteem is in a healthier place now.

I’m lucky to have had my friend and makeup artist Namrata Soni, who sees my face from hyperclose quarters and goes out of her way to make me feel good about it. When I whine about my laugh lines or dark circles, she tells me they’re natural and that’s why they’re beautiful. I have a forcep scar on the right side of my face and my lip lifts up on one side (you notice these things when you’re in front of a camera a lot). When I float the idea of getting them fixed, Namrata reminds me that they make me me.

Instead of letting me interpret my body’s quirks and changes as “flaws”, Namrata helps me celebrate them as unique markers of unique beauty.

I’m lucky to have had my sister and sometimes stylist Rhea, the hottest girl I know. When I’m beating myself up for being too lanky, for not having her curves, she shuts me down and insists I look good in everything she makes me wear. When I start complaining that I don’t look like I did when I was 21, Rhea tells me I look better now.

All the women who’ve championed me have taught me that kind, genuine support can change your friend’s or sister’s or colleague’s life.

(Think of how much better your day is when it starts with a compliment. Think of how easy it is to give that to someone else. Do it every chance you get.)

Today, at 31, I like my body because it’s healthy. I’m done celebrating thinness or flawlessness. I’ve embraced a fit lifestyle, clean eating, and the pursuit of waking up every morning feeling energised. There’s beauty in good health.

The ball is in the media’s court to celebrate fit bodies rather than thin ones, and to know the difference.

I know now that there’s nothing wrong with stretch marks, cellulite, or scars. They’re markers of our growth. There’s beauty in their realness.

And, for the record, I’m not writing this to discourage the pursuit of glamour. Anyone who knows me knows I love feeling pretty – fashion can lend power, makeup can become motivation, a fun accessory can become your source of confidence for the day.

But pursue prettiness for yourself, by your own definitions – not to meet culturally preset notions of “flawless”.

Because flawlessness is a dangerous, high-budget myth, and it’s time we shattered it.

Flawlessness is a dangerous, high-budget myth, and it’s time we shattered it.

So, for every teen girl leaning into her bedroom mirror, wondering why she doesn’t look like a celebrity: Please know that nobody wakes up like this. Not me. Not any other actress. (Not even Beyoncé. I swear.)

Here’s the real deal: Before each public appearance, I spend 90 minutes in a makeup chair. Three to six people work on my hair and makeup, while a professional touches up my nails. My eyebrows are tweezed and threaded every week. There’s concealer on parts of my body that I could never have predicted would need concealing.

I’m up at 6am every day and at the gym by 7:30. I exercise for 90 minutes and, some evenings, again before bed. It’s someone’s full-time job to decide what I can and cannot eat. There are more ingredients in my face packs than in my food. There’s a team dedicated to finding me flattering outfits.

After all that, if I’m still not “flawless” enough, there are generous servings of Photoshop.

I’ve said it before, and I will keep saying it: It takes an army, a lot of money, and an incredible amount of time to make a female celebrity look the way she does when you see her. It isn’t realistic, and it isn’t anything to aspire to.

Aspire, instead, to giving your body as much sleep as it needs. Aspire to finding a form of exercise that’s actually fun for you to do. Aspire to knowing your body and how to live well in it.

Aspire to confidence. Aspire to feeling pretty and carefree and happy, without needing to look any specific way.

And the next time you see a 13-year-old girl gazing wistfully at a blemish-free, shiny-haired Bollywood actress on a magazine cover, bust the myth of flawlessness for her.

Tell her how beautiful she is. Praise her smile or her laugh or her mind or her gait.

Don’t let her grow up believing that she’s flawed, or that there’s anything she’s lacking for looking different from a woman on a billboard. Don’t let her hold herself to a standard that’s too high, even for the women onthe billboards.

Tell her I definitely didn’t wake up like this. She won’t either. And that’s totally, completely fine.

As told to Rega Jha, by Sonam Kapoor

anonymous asked:

I have a bunny, and her nails have gotten a little long. Do you cut your rabbits nails? Or do you take them to the vet? Idk what to do. She wobt let me get that close to her

I have had little success trimming my bunny’s nails in the past. Pumpkin let me do his front paws but not his back ones, and Navi wouldn’t let me do hers at all. I got them done when I took them to see their new vet and it cost me a little over 13 bucks for each bunny. :) i will most likely continue allowing the vet to do it. And whatever you do, and I’m begging you, please be sure that your vet is experienced with rabbits!! Good luck!

Colors (part 13) [Min Yoongi X  Reader]

Genre: Mafia AU

Word count: 10.5K

A/n: Bear with me here amigos! this is the longest chapter I’ve ever written of colors. I hope you all will like it^^

Part 1 - Part 12 - Part 14 || MASTERLIST

Originally posted by myloveseokjin


He likes his coffee dark but his favorite color is white. When he was younger he wanted to be a firefighter, he said he wanted to save lives. He was 13 the first time he had shot a man dead. But he wasn’t remorseful since the person tried to shoot him first.  He loved the rain but hated getting wet in it; his first pet was a white tomcat, his mother used to work at a small restaurant from 1 to 9 so his grandmother took care of him till he was 5. His father took him away from his mother when he was 11.

All that and more you learned about Min Yoongi in this 4x4 shoebox, on a squeaky old bed where you two lied next to each other.  His one hand was under your head, acting as pillow, and the other one was wrapped around your waist. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Thanks for that post about protecting young sapphic cis girls- when I was 13 and facing intense homophobia at home, I was "adopted" by a group of TERFS who used my lack of knowledge about trans issues (I didn't know what a trans person was) and my anger at men to manipulate me. It took posts like yours to realize I'd been manipulated and taken advantage of back then and more posts to realize that it wasn't my fault and that women over 25 shouldn't have done that to a 13 yr old. Thank you.

Yeah no problem :0

essegigi  asked:

2, 13, 14, and 30! And 16 if you'd like!

2: What was your first cosplay?

I normally say Neji from Naruto Shippuden.  He was the first one I chose for myself, bought the costume online and used my own hair.  Hakkai from Saiyuki was the first one I made though.

But on a technicality, when my best friend dragged me to my first ever con she was cosplaying and I wanted to join her, so we went through my closet and ended up with me wearing all black with cat ears and a scarf for a tail and a bandaid on my cheek.  She told me in the car on the way to the con I was Ritsuka from Loveless and I had no idea who that was at the time.  So I guess you could say that was my first cosplay…TECHNICALLY SPEAKING.  There are no photos of this though thank G-d.


13: What’s your funniest cosplay story? 

Oh man a lot has happened and my memory is pretty shitty.  I am pretty fond of being able to completely hide 3 dwarves in my Thranduil cosplay! 

There is also the slew of shenanigans I get into when I’m Sentarou and have a Kiyone around…including whipping out a fan to aid Taichou at the drop of a pin and being so obnoxious our captain was literally rolling on the ground laughing (ARE YOU ALRIGHT TAICHOU DO WE NEED TO GET 4TH SQUAD WAIT I CAN BREW SOME TEA HERE LET ME FAN YOU IN THE MEANTIME).

Kotetsu photoshoots that inevitably devolve into ‘follow Drasil around with a camera while she acts like an idiot’

Getting stuck in a tree as Neji.

Springing pop quizzes on people as Snape.

OH WAIT I THINK I HAVE MY FAVORITE FUNNY STORY NOW IT’S A DOOZY!  So I was cosplaying prison!Leon and had myself handcuffed, hands behind head, to a light-post for a photo while a Kate cosplayer dangled the keys in my face.  We then acted out some funny things like me trying to get the key with my foot and almost kicking it down the drain (and these cuffs didn’t have a safety latch).  After all that I wanted to see if I could uncuff myself, so they handed me the keys and proceeded to do other group shots while I struggle to get the tiny key into the tinier hole.  A poor sweet Abel cosplayer stood by me and keep offering to help, but I would have none of it.  At that point it was a matter of pride.
…………………………………
…..it took me 5 minutes to get out of those cuffs.  XD


14: What’s the best in-character interaction you’ve ever had? 

Well I would have to say once again it is Sentarou with Kiyone.  @yukari-kaiba and I really get into character and can take jabs at each other for the whole day.  Throw a Taichou in the mix and it always becomes a chaotic mess of fun!  The previously mentioned incident with causing the Ukitake cosplayer to roll around on the ground laughing at us and still keeping in character and freaking out and tending to his ‘needs’…A+ in-character times.


30: What is your ultimate dream cosplay?

Man, a lot of what I make nowadays is incredibly over the top because it will look more interesting and I hate myself.  And a number of what would have been a dream cosplay for me before I have completed (Leon and Thranduil as examples).  I guess it would be a toss up between a height-accurate Brook from One Piece with an articulated jaw and arm extensions

Rumpelstiltskin in his ‘crocodile’ outfit

and an original design for Caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland


16: What is your favorite cosplay photo of yourself?

Aww just one?  I think I’m gonna have to cheat and give all my favorites in no particular order…

night time deceiver (707 x mc/reader)

prompt: fingernail (wtf kinda prompt is this?)

rating: 13+ (mildly sexual situations and 707 name and slight route spoilers)

notes: ack. this took longer for me to finish than originally intended. sobs. i hope i can get back on track tomorrow. OTL anyway. uh. yeah, as i mentioned, weird prompt is weird. and so this is the result of that. ahahaha. hope you guys like it! 

Keep reading

Okay, you know what, I have to say this.

When the first episode of Acca first aired, this was the only screenshot I took. I posted it with the comment, “Glasses and earrings? I’m in.” Yes, it sounds like a joke. It sounds like a shallow comment. And since anime pretty boys are such a noted thing, it probably sounds silly to hear me say I feel starved for characters like this. But I do. 

But at the same time, I was only interested in the first place because it looked like it had a deep and complex story, in addition to gorgeous visuals. 

The story ended up being incredibly shallow. 

Look at these. These are gorgeous. This is the sort of aesthetic I love, and like I said before, there aren’t enough shows like this. There isn’t enough anything that looks like this. 

But in this show, these things are framed as suspicious. “Furawau’s flowers smell of malice”. I don’t want to just repeat what I said before, so I’ll just link to that post. And I know it’s not considered appropriate to like them just because they like pretty things. (It might be more socially passable to be bothered on behalf of the only dark-skinned characters, but I’ll leave that particular can of worms to someone else.) 

I wasn’t expecting this show to just up and turn an interesting character into a flat villain. I wasn’t expecting this show to have a whole district where their “hat” is that they’re evil. I thought this show would be better than that.

But I am really bothered by the whole Furawau - Pranetta dynamic. It’s tacky and cliche, and I expected better from this show. “Delicate, floral elegance is evil, and meanwhile, romanticized poverty is heroic, and those people are rewarded - by fate, it seems - for throwing all their resources into something like that”. It’s so cliche, and it’s so shallow. 

Meanwhile, the show set up for some really interesting character development with Jean being made to step into this role that he’d never imagined himself in. How he would have to start to see himself. The sorts of things he would have to become comfortable with. And that… didn’t happen. He had no character development whatsoever, and they even make a joke about it in the end. No one really had any character development in this show, except for Schwan, and we don’t really get to see that - we don’t get to see the moments when he changes - we’re just told that it happened. And no, it’s not just because he had a gun pointed at him. That doesn’t make people change. He changed before that. Somewhere between episode 3 and episode 12, something in his mind changed, and I we didn’t see it happen, we just see that it happened

I don’t know, this show just set itself up to look like something so much better than this. And it ended up being so shallow. I do feel really let down by it.

This is just making me feel more motivated to get on with writing my own novel. Because the setting is actually a lot like Furawau, but those characters are the protagonists. They’re intelligent and highly educated, they wear a lot of jewelry and elegant clothes, they don’t fight, but for once, characters like that will not be portrayed as evil. The main character comes to live there and falls in love with it. There aren’t any shallow, evil villain characters. 

I need to work on improving my art, obviously, but I’m going for that sort of aesthetic, and it’s not a sign of evil in my story. It’s not a sign of good, either - it’s just a look that I think is really nice, and I want to defend it.