#Physics PDF solutions

[engineeringmath]

College Physics by Openstax Chapter 6 Problem 28

Part of riding a bicycle involves leaning at the correct angle when making a turn, as seen in Figure 6.33. To be stable, the force exerted by the ground must be on a line going through the center of gravity. The force on the bicycle wheel can be resolved

Riding a Bicycle in an Ideally Banked Curve Problem: Part of riding a bicycle involves leaning at the correct angle when making a turn, as seen in Figure 6.33. To be stable, the force exerted by the ground must be on a line going through the center of gravity. The force on the bicycle wheel can be resolved into two perpendicular components—friction parallel to the road (this must supply the…

[allresultnotice]

SSC Physics solution & Suggestions pdf Download 2022 এসএসসি পদার্থবিজ্ঞান সাজেশন ২০২২

SSC Physics solution & Suggestions pdf Download 2022 এসএসসি পদার্থবিজ্ঞান সাজেশন ২০২২

SSC Physics solution & Suggestions pdf Download 2022 এসএসসি পদার্থবিজ্ঞান সাজেশন ২০২২. Suggestion information with also Update some effective SSC Suggestion information or resource and tips which will help to get the Math CQ Suggestion easily Believe that our distribution of CQ Suggestion News and information will help the activity searchers who are finding CQ Suggestion Educations Related News…

[zarla-s]

Man it's been a long time since I've done an ask cluster! Let's see if I can get some down...

He's an extremely fun character to write for and play with! So in that sense I'm fond of him, haha. He's such a huge disaster of a person, there's always something fun to do with him. Well "fun" in a relative sense.

I don't have anything to forgive him for, he didn't hurt me. |D He hurt the brothers!

I do have an idea for a cute feature inspired by Six-Eared Macaque! I should really sit down and do that already... and finish the one I half started but never finished...

I don't think my opinion on any of them changed! I love them all, haha. Which ones I drew comics about just depends on which ones I get ideas for really. Sometimes I get Alphys ideas and sometimes I get Goatparents ideas! Inspiration is fickle!

I don't have any solid plans or anything. :B Just gonna keep chugging along with silly comics and art! Work on Defrag and such. I'd like to finish a Ladyverse comic I've had lying around forever, and I had vague plans for doing a doujin for them too I could work on... and also seeing if I could format Handplates into a book format... I've always got a bunch of projects, haha.

It works on that level! It wasn't intentional though. |D

I do enjoy speculation! I don't really have much of my own though, I didn't predict anything in chapter 2 so now I'm assuming I can't predict anything in the future chapters either, haha.

Emesis Blue is great! Some really beautiful visuals in there, very striking! Love the mood of it too and a lot of the surreal imagery. I think it helped spur me back into TF2 again, haha. Medic and Scout's relationship was so cute.

I have thought about this! It has its share of challenges though... I outlined them more in this post. A pdf would be more doable though... could even include some extra stuff as well! Hmm...

I can see that! He'd probably spend as much time out in the rain as he could just doing whatever to stay outside.

It was pretty much always going to end like that. I always wanted it to end on a hopeful note! Which might seem weird with how dark it is at the beginning. I DID for a brief period at the very beginning of Handplates think about stopping with the Pacifist run, but that was only because I thought going where I wanted to go would take too long and already the project seemed so dauntingly huge at the time, haha. But it was always going to end in a positive way!

Gaster talks about what he originally intended to create here, and he explains a bit about the physical experiments he runs on the brothers here. They aren't really a solution in and of themselves so much as tools to try and find a way to break the barrier. Really though, Gaster got stuck in the sunk-cost fallacy lol.

I don't really have opinions about what canon Gaster would be like. |D Handplates Gaster is his own thing really. Canon Gaster, who knows! Deltarune Gaster, who knows! I will say I hope Gaster stays a mystery in Deltarune and never actually shows up but I think the odds of that are really low at this point.

I thought about doing a script along those lines! I did a few rough drafts of one, but it never really went anywhere... it'd end up dead-ending or kind of meandering off. I might see if I can get an actual script down for a side-comic or something in the future... it might be better suited for a fic.

I was just thinking about this lately! I was picturing Gaster totally forgetting about that until he sees Papyrus squinting and is like OH GOD YOUR EYES THAT'S RIGHT D: and goes to get him looked at lol.

I couldn't come up with a good idea for Flowey which is a shame, I do like him, haha. If one comes to me though I might make a little side comic about it!

Gaster's LV is complicated... his stats in-game are ludicrous if I recall correctly. Did he carry the damage from his murders into the void, even if those murders weren't his in the new timeline? Deep thoughts.

He fed them anything he could find, haha. Which is why sometimes they just ended up with chocolate bars (which he intended as dinner for himself). He probably fed them more often than he fed himself lol. He did feed them fairly regularly though.

Not about skeletons, probably. |D

Man I know I had an explanation for this but it was so long ago... it's hard for me to remember. It could be that the Riverperson is just weird and has weird insight into elements of things, had a prophetic dream... I don't know! It bugs me now that I can't remember this, haha.

[loser-female]

Math masterpost!

So you want to learn math. Good. Math is amazing. I studied physics for two years and I miss it SO MUCH. Learning math isn't just cool, but it's a great way to improve skills such as:

Resilience: sometimes you will get stuck for a while on a problem - this is absolutely normal for college-level problems. You won't start from here though;

Self confidence: mastering a subject known to be difficult is fun;

Problem solving: you will be less likely to just sit down and do nothing if something comes up in your life, you will be able to try to find a solution.

It will change your approach to failure as you will become more flexible in your thinking.

Unfortunately most people never learn how to properly study math. We all probably know how to study a book over humanities. We start by reading the material, then we take notes of the keypoints. But this method doesn't work with math, and math teachers often don't really know either.

For the basics I've made this post here. To sum it up:

Please don't start with "but i suck at it". Because then your brain will actually prevent you from learning (self-fulfilling prophecy, anyone?);

Realise that you need to master one topic before covering the next one or you won't be able to progress;

Really, the methods you use for things like literature or psychology or whatever won't work

Now I'm not a genius, I always was and I always be a terrible student. I have adhd, depression and chronic pain, all of which add a difficulty layer with learning.

I feel like most people fail because of the first point. I've seen this with people I've tutored IRL, people I try to fix their pc... Don't be the person that gives up before trying because no one likes that. Just don't. Remember that you are learning on your own and no one is going to grade your excercises. Now take that and make a poster out of iy.

Now, resources Where To Find The Stuff.

Khan Academy. I didn't follow this courses becuase well, university, physics, but everyone references them.

Professor Leonard

The Math Sorcerer

3b1b (curiosities in math)

Vsauce2 (fun)

numberphile (this for understanding math memes)

r/learnmath resources are great!

A great study method

Proofs? Proofs.

A 3 page document on learning math (but it's cool)

Terry Tao's famous post "there is more in mathematics about rigour and proofs"

Remember that, even if you don't like a specific youtuber, source or anything it has been a while since college and high school teachers started to upload their own material. Generally, looking for like "calculus pdf" will give you a lot of resources. Youtube is full of university courses of every kind and it's so good to access all of this knowledge for free. I cannot recommend you anything regarding textbooks because I still have my high school one. Also yes, i've used the Rudin as a complementary textbook in university but that's a bit too much.

I really, really want to emphasize the mentality part. Leaning formula is useless if you feel like garbage because you weren't able to solve the first exercise you picked up after a decade not doing anything.

My personal and sparce advice:

Unless you have dyscalculia don't use the calculator. I know, I KNOW. But this "lazyness" will make everything 10 times more difficult.

Beware about overlearning. Basically, when you solve everything at the first attempt and you keep doing the same thing over and over because it feels good, but the truth is that you are wasting time. This is the time to move forward.

Try to differentiate between a knowledge error(did I actually study the subject?), a conceptual error (did I understand the material), or a mere calculation/distraction error (fo example a missing sign, writing the wrong thing etc)

Try to solve the problems in different ways if you can.

After a certain time, It will be useful to review things done in the past, (ref: spaced repetition method).

Write everything down. Reasonings, steps etc. It will be easier for you to review them.

This posts keep crashing so I have to call it quits now.

but:

have fun

[fairycosmos]

i’m going to kill myself tonight but i wanted to say i’ve always loved your blog and your my favourite tumblr person :)

hey, not sure if anything i can say can change your mind but please please consider calling a hotline or reaching out to a friend/family member if that's an option. i won't pretend i know the type of pain you're in, or much about the situation you're in, and i hope this doesn't come across as me saying it's easy to keep going because it's absolutely not. whether you're feeling numb, whether your thoughts are totally chaotic. it's a type of hell either way. i know things are unbearably painful so much of the time. you deserve so much better and i just don't think doing this is going to give you that. i'm not trained in all the right and wrong things to say to someone who's going through this and i know that when i'm in this place myself, there's very little anyone can do or say to get me out of it. but i do come out of it. even if i'm not happy, the pressing urge to harm myself is so strong that by its own nature it's unsustainable. it's the hardest thing in the world to bear it and i'm so sorry you're going through it. it's so fucking exhausting. and at the same time it always somewhat dies down and there is always another day to try again.

please, please get yourself to a physically safe space. if you need to cry, break down, sleep for 72 hours, take a shower, eat something, put your face in cold water, rip up a million pieces of paper to get the rage out - it's okay. whatever you need is okay. you don't have to think about what you're going to do tomorrow or next week or next month or in the next 5 years. you just have to focus on getting through today, minute by minute. if that feels like too much, second by second. and you can keep breaking it down like that until it stops feeling like some insurmountable mountain. i know words are not enough to change anything about how much despair and hopelessness you're feeling in this moment. i just want you to attempt to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend going through something like this. even just for the next 30 minutes. i'm going to leave some resources linked below that have helped me when i've been in a similar spot. they're not solutions and they're not cures. they're just going to allow you to see other perspectives beyond your suicidality. you are so, so worth that. please reach out to a loved one, the authorities or a hotline if you can. it is not going to be as scary as your mind is building it up to be. i would seriously hate to think of you doing something to harm yourself. you have a right to feel how you feel, but you don’t have to give these thoughts the power to actually dictate your reality. i'm really, really glad you're alive and i genuinely hope you're able to get to the point where you are too. you're the one who can really bring yourself back from the edge. what happens next is all in your hands, not in the grip of your negative thoughts, urges, or feelings. please, please do what you know is right for your safety and wellbeing. even if it's the hardest choice in the world to make. please, please stick around for today at the very least. just focus on getting through the now, no matter how unbearable. that's more than good enough, and it's all anyone can ask of you. i'm sending you so, so much love.

international suicide hotlines / guidance for creating a safety plan / coping with suicidal thoughts pdf / download a how to cope factsheet / coping with suicidal thoughts right now / 10+ coping skills worksheets for adults / the coping skills toolbox / how do you stop suicidal thoughts?

[gainingfiction]

Go Big, Go Home

Summary: Finn is a slacker with a fondness for milking the system. When he learns that employees of a certain size can apply to work from home, he hatches a plan to get fat enough to qualify. Finn likes his food, and he’s already a bit chubby, but he soon unleashes the inner hog buried deep within him, and a gluttony that won’t let him stop gaining—even when he’s hit his target. This story was inspired by a prompt from a follower based on “King-Size Homer” from The Simpsons.

~

Finn always preferred the easy way out. Why study when you could copy your friend’s test? Why cook if you can afford takeout? Why do more when you can do less?

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best attitude, but it had served Finn just fine. At 22, he had a decent job and an equally decent apartment. And even if he did care more about his own orgasms than pleasing his partners, he still did well enough on his preferred hookup apps. For Finn, life was going pretty well.

That is, until he learned he was doing more than the bare minimum. That was something Finn couldn’t accept.

He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when he figured out a new way to game the system, eavesdropping on a pair of receptionists as they swapped some particularly juicy office gossip.

Finn’s ears perked up when he heard that Tony from IT wouldn’t have to come into the office anymore. The story was that he’d gained so much weight on the job that human resources and the union rep had agreed that he could work from home. Phrases like “mobility issues” and “occupational hazard” were thrown around. Apparently, employees who reached a certain BMI could qualify for that sort of program.

Finn wasn’t even aware that his employer let anyone work from home, although he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like Finn needed to be at his desk: he worked in customer service. His job consisted mostly of fielding calls and sending emails… all things he could do from his couch—if he was allowed.

The wheels in Finn’s head were already turning as he left the kitchen. He deposited his coffee on his desk and went straight to the bathroom, where he took a good look at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t bad looking—green eyes with a mischief he couldn’t hide, some light stubble, and a crop of floppy, light brown hair.

His figure was masked by a loose-fitting button-down and dress pants. It was hardly the body of a god. His softness stemmed from an extreme distaste for physical exertion, which was part of his natural laziness. This aversion to exercise was no problem when he was in high school—it was easy enough to stay thin with his genetics and a teenage metabolism. But as he coasted through his bachelor’s degree, the Freshman 15 blossomed into a forty-pound weight gain: he weighed in at a spritely 154 pounds the first time he walked onto campus, and by the time he left, he was up to 196. The numbers bounced around Finn’s head as he returned to his desk. 

Finn didn’t mind being a little chubby. He certainly didn’t care enough to diet or work out. If anything, the idea of getting to stay home every day, sitting around in his underwear with the TV playing in the background, never having to sit in traffic or make awkward small talk again, seemed like a great reason to expand his extremely average build.

It took a bit of searching, but he found a PDF of the employee handbook and searched it for “BMI”. It didn’t take long to find a very interesting section.

Employees who struggle with significant weight gain as a result of their work-related sedentary lifestyle may benefit from a range of modifications. These include, but are not limited to, a modified workspace (e.g. a standing desk or other modified equipment), accessibility aids, and, in certain circumstances, a voluntary work from home program.

Bingo. Finn read on:

While there is no “one-size-fits-all” solution, employees with a BMI of 60 or greater will generally qualify for the voluntary work from home program, particularly where this is medically recommended.

Jackpot. So Gina the receptionist was right. If he got fat enough, Finn would never have to go into the office again. He opened a new tab and found an online BMI calculator. 

Finn’s eyes widened as he plugged in the numbers. He was 5’10”, and weighed around 205 pounds these days. That put his BMI at just shy of 30—already embarrassingly close to the “obese” range, although he didn’t think he looked that big. But to get to a BMI of 60, he’d need to soar up to 418 pounds….

Finn exhaled. His weight had been steadily increasing for years without him even trying, so it wasn’t like he’d be fighting nature. But to gain over 200 pounds? That wouldn’t be easy. It would take time, money, and, worst of all, effort.

He got back to work, but the thought stuck in his brain for the rest of the day. He sat in his uncomfortable office chair, in a small cubicle he shared with another customer service rep named Ron. Ron was a couple of years older than Finn, with a slim build, a plain face, and thinning hair. He often talked to himself, hummed out of tune, clicked his pen constantly, and never turned off his phone notifications. Their workspace was small and slightly messy, with files scattered around and stacked on top of a metal filing cabinet that hadn’t been replaced in decades. The only “decoration” was a potted plant, half-dead from a lack of natural light.

Finn made his decision by lunchtime. If it meant putting office life behind him, he was going to go for it. He was going to get fat. Really, really fat.

He felt an unfamiliar sensation as he stepped out of the elevator onto the building’s main floor: determination. The lobby included a small food court, with a selection of fast food restaurants to choose from. He ate lunch there most days, but today, he was going to truly feast.

The cashier at the burger place was a middle-aged woman who seemed unfazed by Finn’s massive order: three burgers, two large fries, a large Coke, a large chocolate milkshake, and an apple flip. His tray heavy with food, he walked towards an empty table.

Slumping into a chair, Finn stared at the mountain of fast food in front of him. It was as much as two of his regular meals, maybe more. Was he really going to do this? Was it worth it? But the idea of working from home, of never again having to get dressed up to go into the office, beckoned him onward like an irresistible siren call. Sure, he’d be huge—but he’d be free.

So he unwrapped the first burger and dove in. He ate like a starving man, taking huge bites of burger, stuffing his face with a handful of fries, and washing it down with a gulp of thick, chocolatey shake. It all tasted amazing, the sugar and grease flooding his brain with pleasure. He’d already finished two of the burgers and half the fries before his stomach clued into how full he was.

But he couldn’t stop. He had a goal to achieve. So he unwrapped the last burger and took a bite, absentmindedly rubbing his small starter belly as he ate. With mechanical motions, he loaded his mouth with fries, forcing the food down with long slurps of his soft drink. By the time he pushed the last bite of pastry through his lips, he was uncomfortably bloated, his stomach looking larger than usual. He leaned back in his chair—he felt sick, but he also felt good. Like he’d accomplished something.

His stomach ached and gurgled as he rode the elevator back up to the third floor, ignoring the signs that recommended taking the stairs. Lethargy set in by the time he reached his desk, and he spent the whole afternoon stifling burps, covertly massaging his overfull stomach, and wishing he could take a nap.

His appetite picked up again a few hours after he got off work. He’d been watching TV on the couch since returning home, picking away at a bag of chips. By 8 o’clock, he felt ready for a proper dinner. He was craving pizza, so he picked up his cellphone and plugged his choice into his favourite app. Seeing a 2-for-1 special in the discount section, Finn knew what he had to do.

He went to bed that night with a painfully full stomach, a feeling that would become increasingly familiar in the days that followed. For the rest of the week, he picked up a large fast food breakfast before settling in at his desk, and followed it up with lunches that were as vast as they were greasy. Then, he dragged himself back to his office for a series of semi-comatose afternoons. At home, he would order as much as he wanted from his preferred takeout spots, washed down with soda or beer, sometimes both. At night, as he lay in bed cradling his bloated gut, it was like he could feel his stomach stretching, expanding to accommodate his escalating portion sizes, his body and brain working to adapt to whatever he was doing to himself.

The first comment about his developing gluttony came that weekend. It was subtle, but enough to let Finn know that people had noticed him making a pig of himself.

Finn’s best friend, Damian, wore a look of concern mixed with curiosity as he looked over from across the table. Their families had lived next door since before either was born, and they had been friends for as long as Finn could remember. Unlike Finn, Damian was high-strung, always striving to be the best. It was Damian’s tests Finn had always copied from in school. And while Finn did the bare minimum to get his degree, Damian made the dean’s list every year, graduating with highest honours and a job offer from a prestigious engineering firm.

Damian had a slender build, toned during his years as a swimmer and track and field champion and maintained by a rigorous diet and daily workout regimen. His straight, dark hair was always tightly coiffed and gelled, his narrow face clean-shaven, his dark eyes probing and analytical. His eight-part beauty regimen overwhelmed Finn, who got by with some cold water splashed on his face.

Finn couldn’t deny some attraction to Damian, but they’d never hooked up, except for one drunken teenage makeout session that neither ever mentioned again. Finn was more interested in hookups and flings, while Damian always claimed to be looking for The One. That was too much pressure for Finn, who wanted to be “the one” who fucked around and had a good time.

They were still best friends, though, and they met up for drinks every weekend. This week, however, Finn suggested they meet earlier and get dinner instead, an offer Damian accepted. When their meals arrived, Damian was still nursing his first vodka soda of the night, while Finn was already on his third pint of beer.

“You, uh, hungry?” Damian asked, sizing up the huge pile of food in front of his friend.

Finn felt Damian’s eyes linger on his already-enlarged gut, before snapping back up to his face. “I must be,” Finn lied, resting a hand on his belly. “I skipped lunch,” he lied again. He’d actually eaten two lunches—a burger combo, and then a heaping plate of Chinese food. Then, he’d spent the afternoon snacking on the bags of chips and chocolate covered peanuts he now kept in his desk drawer.

“Right,” Damian said, rolling a cherry tomato around his bowl of garden salad. “Oh, I have to tell you about this guy I met at the gym today. Major daddy bear energy. He gave me a ton of tips about weight training. I’m like, 90% sure he wants to take me out.”

Finn chuckled, rolling his eyes. When it came to men, Damian was fairly predictable—they were all burly, dominant, and (most importantly of all) emotionally unavailable. It dawned on Finn years ago that Damian was looking for some version of his father, a stern, plump Catholic with a well-groomed beard and impossible expectations. Damian’s endless string of brief, ill-fated relationships made for some interesting stories, at least.

Finn was in good spirits (and a little drunk) by the time they left the bar. After Damian caught his bus, Finn groaned and rubbed his overfull stomach. As usual, he’d overdone it; the two-block walk to his apartment was torture. That night, he leapt into bed, holding his packed, round stomach like he was posing for a pregnancy photoshoot. He was asleep a few moments later.

And so, Finn settled into a routine. On weekdays, he’d eat a few pieces of toast at home, before grabbing breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns at the food court in the lobby of his office building. Then, by lunchtime, his appetite would have recovered enough for another feast. He rotated through the various options over the course of the week, sometimes eating a second lunch, often picking up donuts or other pastries to snack on during the afternoon. He’d even struck up a rapport with the 20-something cashier at the donut shop and the young hunk at the Chinese takeout counter. Then, after work, he would drive home and collapse onto the couch to watch TV or play video games until he decided where to get dinner. After ordering yet another ridiculous spread, he’d eat it on the couch, washed down with a beer or five. Then, he grazed on his favourite snacks until it was time to roll into bed, thoroughly and completely stuffed. And on Saturday, he would shock Damian by polishing off massive servings of pub grub and an ocean of cheap, high calorie beer.

As the days turned to weeks, the effects were getting harder to ignore. The consequences of eating thousands of extra calories a day started to pile up on Finn’s frame, and they piled up fast and furious.

He noticed it everywhere. His work shirts, once loose, grew tighter, until they started to cling to his distended belly and puffy chest; on cold days, when his office was chilly, his nipples poked obscenely against the cotton. His love handles swelled and expanded, deposits of side fat that enfolded his torso and merged into widening back rolls. His hips widened, too, thickening with fat as it settled around his thighs and ass. Big hips ran in Finn’s family, especially the women, but Finn was starting to put some of them to shame. Packing his growing thighs into his dress pants had been getting more difficult lately, and they swaddled his porky butt like plastic wrap, accentuating every curve. The outline of his boxer-briefs (which were also tight) was clearly visible, cutting into his ass fat. He was definitely developing a bit of a pear shape. Standing in front of his hallway mirror before work, he made a mental note to upgrade his wardrobe before he popped a button or busted a seam.

He was starting to raise some eyebrows at the office, too: it seemed that every day Finn managed to come to work fatter, wearing worse-fitting clothes, and eating more at his desk than he had the day before. Ron, his office mate, never mentioned it, but Finn caught him staring once as he leaned over to pick up a bag of chips he’d dropped, his thick rump aimed in Ron’s direction. He looked away quickly, but Finn was pretty sure Ron spent the rest of the afternoon humming “Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen.

Eating the way he did was fun, but it was also a challenge. Finn imagined himself as a pro-athlete, always trying to beat his personal best and take his game to the next level. How many burgers could he eat without making himself nauseated? How many milkshakes could he drink? How many calories could he stuff into his face during the afternoon without making himself too full to enjoy a Chinese feast or a family-size portion of Mexican food for dinner? Sometimes as he pushed his bloated stomach beyond all limits, he thought of Rocky and his “Eye of the Tiger” training montage. Rising up straight to the top… Had the guts, got the glory.

So his weight climbed. He checked the scales periodically, feeling a perverse sense of accomplishment as he ticked past 250, 260… When he saw 282 flash across the scale, he felt almost giddy. He was really doing it. His life of leisure was getting closer by the day.

Six months into his journey, he did discover one downside.

He’d been so focused on turning himself into a fat boy that he’d mostly put his social life on the back burner, except for his weekly gossip sessions with Damian. So when he got a message on a hookup app from an old fling looking to reconnect, Finn jumped at the opportunity. He invited the guy—James—over to his place for “drinks” that Friday night.

Finn wasn’t much of a cleaner, but he did manage to throw out the mountains of empty food containers and bottles of beer and soda that cluttered his apartment. Satisfied that the place looked at least decent, he focused on making himself look decent.

The problem was, he’d only upgraded his work clothes. When he was at home, he mostly lounged around in his boxers, and if his sweats and t-shirt were too small, no one was around to see. But with James on the way, he had to at least find something to wear; even for Finn, answering the door in nothing but his undies was a little too forward. 

He fished a pair of jeans out of the closet, realizing how much smaller they looked than his work pants. He looked at the tag: 36”, the size he’d worn before he started his daily pig-outs. He frowned. His dress pants were 44”, roomy when he bought them but increasingly fitted. Even allowing for the difference in fabric, 36” would be a very tight squeeze.

Still, he gave it a shot. They were supposed to be a loose fit, so even if they were too tight, maybe he could still get them on.

His thunder thighs completely shattered that illusion. Getting them up to his knees had been okay, but then the resistance started to increase. His legs were just too big; there wasn’t near enough denim to get the waistband up over his massive buttocks. His blubber butt was an unconquerable challenge that those poor jeans had no hope of surmounting. They were half way over his booty when he gave up, his thighs crammed in like sausage casings, putting the seams to the test.

It would have to be sweatpants. Those were tight, too, wrapping every inch of added flesh without a stitch to spare. And his stomach… that was its own problem. He tugged at his shirt, desperately trying to get it down past his deepening navel, but his gut put up fierce resistance. Inches of chub sprung out under the hem, bulging over the waistband of his sweats.

Finn felt a surge of panic as he looked in the mirror. A fat man stared back at him, completely overflowing his clothes. He thought about changing into some dressier work clothes, but the doorbell rang before he had the chance.

He would just have to roll the dice. His rolls jiggled as he made his way to the door, forcing his shirt even further up his exposed gut, and his sweatpants further down over his behind, a swathe of plumber’s crack on full display.

He tried to play it cool when he opened the door, smiling at the twink in front of him. “Hey, James,” he said, realizing that the combination of stuffing himself into undersized clothes and rushing to the door had left him breathless. He tried to slow his panting as he leaned against the doorframe.

A look of shock and disgust crossed James’s slim face. The svelte young man stared back at him, mouth agape, eyes roaming up and down Finn’s heavily fattened body. “Uh, what the hell, Finn? You never told me you got so fucking fat.��

“I thought you liked dadbods. And anyway, it’s just a couple pounds,” he said, tugging fruitlessly at the hem of his t-shirt. He knew that was a lie.

“Yeah, a couple dozen. Look, I’m not into chubs. Call me when you lose some weight,” he said. “And update your damn photo, I feel like I just got catfished.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked down the hall, tiny hips swinging. Finn stood in the doorway. He was humiliated, but he felt something else, too. His dick was starting to get hard, tenting the front of his overloaded sweats. He tried not to overthink it, assuming it was just the expectation of sex. He shook his head and closed the door. At least there was a carton of ice cream in the freezer with his name on it. Ice cream never criticized his weight. Ice cream was the best boyfriend a guy could ask for.

He told Damian about his failed hookup when they went out to dinner that weekend, portraying himself as the innocent victim of a shallow tease. “Can you believe that?” he said, through a mouthful of cheeseburger. He took a swig of beer. “He literally said I catfished him. Over a couple pounds.”

Damian frowned, fiddling with his glasses. Finn couldn’t help but notice how powerful Damian’s biceps looked, the way his pecs stretched his t-shirt. While Finn had been packing on fat, Damian was layering rock-hard muscle onto his narrow frame, building his body from slim and twinkish to something approaching Achilles or Adonis.

“Right. Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but…” Damian glanced away, rubbing his sharp jaw. He wouldn’t meet Finn’s gaze. “Is everything okay? Y’know, you kind of have been gaining a lot of weight recently.”

Finn’s stomach fluttered. For some reason, getting called out like that by muscular Damian, athletic Damian, perfect Damian, made Finn feel… well, a little turned-on. He couldn’t figure it out—it was embarrassing, but it was the sort of embarrassment that started in his crotch and radiated outwards, sitting like a lustful pit in his stomach. Why did this keep happening? He decided to explore a little further. “Really? Is it super noticeable?”

Damian still couldn’t look Finn in the eyes. He pushed some wild rice around his plate, before spluttering: “It’s—well, I don’t know, that’s… I just wanted to make sure nothing was going on with you.”

Unlike Finn, Damian was a terrible liar. That’s why Finn always did the talking when they were up to no good as kids. Damian hadn’t even answered his question, which made the answer obvious: it was extremely noticeable. Eighty pounds on a 5’10” frame would be noticeable to anyone with eyes.

“Too many good meals, I guess,” Finn said, dragging a hand along the outline of his gut, framed by a too-small button-down, and letting it rest on the underside of his expansive belly. “You must think I’m turning into a real pig, huh?”

Damian reddened slightly, and ran a hand through his thick hair. He kept fiddling with his glasses, eyes flicking from Finn’s belly to finally meet his gaze. “No, of course not. I was just checking in. And I wanted to offer to train you if you wanted any help losing weight. At the gym.”

Finn cracked a smirk. “Actually, can I let you in on a little secret?” he asked, his voice low.

Damian nodded, leaning forward slightly. His expression was intense, the sort of look Finn recognized as deep interest. He rested his hand on his chin, slender fingers covering his pink lips.

“I’m doing it on purpose. I figured out that I get to work from home if I get fat enough. So I’m trying to gain even more. I've packed on eighty already.”

Damian’s jaw dropped, but he closed it again, quickly. “Wait, really?” he asked, arching his brows. “Finn, don’t you think that’s a little… reckless? Dangerous, even?”

Finn took a long slurp of his soda; he liked to have something to wash down the beer. His smirk widened. “Well, you know I live for a little danger.”

Damian’s mouth opened slightly, and he closed it again, his eyes searching his plate. He seemed to be trying to comprehend the information that had just been dropped on him. He gave a slow nod as Finn shovelled a mouthful of nachos into his eager maw.

“Do you think that’s stupid?” Finn asked, after the silence had gone on for a little too long.

“No,” Damian said, quickly. He sighed, looking down at his own plate. “I mean, it’s the sort of stunt that only you’d come up with. But it kind of reminds me of myself, in a way. Setting a goal and pushing yourself until you get there, no matter the cost… It’s just… Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, Finn. Don’t want anything to happen to you.” His chocolatey brown eyes searched Finn’s face. “I care about you.”

Finn’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, at that, a big, toothy grin. “Aw, shucks, you’re gonna make me blush.” He gave his friend a playful punch in the arm. “Anyway, I’ll be fine. As soon as I get permission to work from home, I’ll drop it all. I’ll look like you in no time.”

Damian nodded again. He looked away from Finn, back to the steamed vegetables and wild rice on his plate. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure you will.”

Finn frowned. Damian really was a terrible liar.

After that night, something in Finn changed. It wasn’t just about the job anymore. Now, there was something inside of him that wanted to get fatter, a part of his libido that pushed him to expand his stomach and add even more fat to his obese body.

Finn had always been lazy, but the added pounds made him even lazier. Even the most basic tasks started to seem like a chore, if not a workout. He loathed standing in front of the sink to wash dishes, or picking up the garbage that accumulated around his apartment. Hauling a load of laundry down the stairs might as well have been a marathon. He didn’t mind showers, since they gave him a chance to size up his expanding body, but the amount of time it took to wash all that added flesh was getting to be a headache.

And he abandoned any pretense of keeping his office clean. Was he supposed to get up and walk over to the recycling bin, like some sort of olympic athlete? Not fucking likely. Ron glared at him, staring at the empty soda bottles and takeout boxes that littered his desk. Finn knew that Ron was the one who ended up disposing of the absurd amount of waste he produced in the run of a day. His disgust was like an aphrodisiac to Finn, who relished the judgmental stares of skinny people, the way they watched, uncomprehendingly, as he treated his ballooning body like a dumpster for a repulsive array of junk food.

Other than Damian. His reaction had been a complete shock to Finn. Damian didn’t judge him, or push him to work out. In a strange way, Damian seemed to appreciate the effort that he was putting into his body, to admire his dedication to this new lifestyle of laziness and voracious greed. Damian sometimes showed up at Finn’s door with a heavy bag of takeout, tidying up Finn’s living room as he devoured whatever offerings his friend delivered. And it wasn’t just takeout: sometimes Damian brought a six pack of beer, a pan of homemade brownies, or a freshly-baked cheesecake. Finn hadn’t realized his friend was such a talented baker until he tasted his delicious food.

Finn was becoming a lazy, slovenly eating machine, a paragon of ever-expanding gluttony. Hardly a moment passed when he wasn’t stuffing his face with something. There was no denying that he was getting seriously fat: he had gotten into a rhythm, a routine of pushing himself and then pushing himself further. Being full just didn’t cut it anymore; he had to be stuffed. Once, eating 5,000 calories in a day was exceptional; now, it was the norm. He was downright cranky when he didn’t have something to snack on, his mood brightening as soon as he got his pudgy fingers on a bar of chocolate or a greasy slice of pizza. 

Blake, his friend at the donut shop, seemed astonished at how much food Finn consumed, even as Finn noticed the cashier’s polo shirt fitting tighter around his growing beer belly and love handles. And he loved teasing Sam, the skinny cashier at Imperial Wok. He’d sidle up to the counter, letting his belly lead the way. “You know the drill,” he’d say, with a wry smile, the slight cashier’s dark eyes boggling at the massive slab of all-American beef parked in front of him. He always made eyes at the dark-haired cutie as he loaded up boxes with a banquet’s worth of egg rolls, fried rice, noodles and sweet-and-sour pork. Sam really did know the drill: dish out enough food to fill Finn’s monstrous belly.

He ballooned up to 300 pounds, and rocketed past 310, more than twice what he weighed six years ago as a trim 18-year-old, and a hundred pounds fatter than the chubby guy he’d been less than a year before. 310 gave way to 320, and then 330. He realized with glee that he was closer to his target than his starting weight.

His new lifestyle was putting a strain on his savings. In addition to blowing money on groceries and takeout, keeping himself clothed was starting to cost a fortune. He tried to plan ahead, but it was only a matter of time before 48” pants went from roomy to cozy to uncomfortable, and then they stopped buttoning altogether, his widening waist overwhelming them, his fat butt consuming every scrap of material.

The contrast between his body and Damian’s was marked as they sat at their usual bar. They had given up on booths, which were starting to become a bit of a squeeze for Finn. Damian looked totally built in a Sun’s Out, Guns Out tank top. And boy were his guns out.

“I deadlifted 350 today,” Damian said, as he speared a piece of lettuce with his fork. His tone was totally casual, like it was the sort of thing he talked about all the time. 

Finn didn’t really know what he was talking about. “Huh,” he said, through a mouthful of pizza. “Is that good?” It certainly sounded like a big number.

Damian shrugged. “New personal best. I’m pretty happy about it. I’m almost as strong as Richard now.”

Finn nodded. Richard was the “daddy bear” that had inspired Damian’s ongoing transformation into a muscular jock. Finn didn’t have the heart to tell Damian that no amount of muscle gains would convince Richard to leave his wife, so he just nodded along.

“So you could still lift me,” Finn said, as he grabbed a handful of fries. He grinned. “For now.”

Damian chuckled. “Seriously? How big are you gonna get?” He was trying to sound casual, but there was an edge in his voice. Was it… eagerness?

“420’s the goal,” Finn said, feeling his cock start to stiffen at the thought. “I’ll have to get high to celebrate.”

Damian whistled. “That is… wow, that’s big,” he said, brows arching as he surveyed Finn’s gigantic form.

“Only 75 pounds to go,” he said, slapping his hand against the side of his belly and making it jiggle. “So close I can almost taste it. It kinda tastes like butter.”

Damian laughed. After that, he seemed to show up at Finn’s house practically every day, carrying boxes of snacks and plates loaded down with homemade goodies. Finn always accepted them appreciatively, happy to fill his gut for free—Damian had that engineer money, anyway. And he wouldn’t admit it to his oldest friend, but there was something a little erotic about lazing around on the couch, greedily stuffing his gut, as a muscly hunk picked up his trash and cleaned up his apartment. He’d popped a boner more than a few times watching Damian wash the dishes, firm glutes shifting back and forth as he scrubbed pots and pans.

God, I’m weird, Finn thought to himself. But if it was wrong to get aroused by a gorgeous guy playing housemaid while he gorged himself, Finn didn’t want to be right. Even if that guy was just a friend.

Finn didn’t realize just how many extra calories Damian had been pumping into him until a few weeks later, when he was getting dressed for work. He was used to a bit of a struggle, but this was worse than usual. His pants were skin-tight against his tree trunk thighs, booty fat spilling out over the top like bread dough overfilling its pan. He gave another tug and managed to get his ass covered, but getting them buttoned was an entirely different matter. He pulled as hard as he could, to no avail. He inhaled—still nothing.

He fell backwards onto his bed and sucked in with all his might—a pointless exercise for a man of his impressive size. His stomach was so huge, so laden with fat, that it barely made a difference at this point. But with a little wriggling, he managed to get them to button. His shirt was untucked, but there was no way in hell he was going to try to fix that. With the way his waistband dug into his blubber, he had no prayer of stuffing anything else in there.

He spent the morning in his usual way—feasting on donuts from the shop downstairs. Blake was looking very overfed himself, but his obvious weight gain didn’t even come close to Finn’s astronomical expansion. Finn was annoyed when he had to retrieve something from the printer, but he still hauled himself out of his creaking desk chair and walked over to get it.

But as he lowered his behind back into the chair, he heard a rip. His heart sank: his pants had breathed their last. He peered down at his side, pushing his love handle out of the way so he could size up the damage. He examined the popped seam, realizing that his colossal thighs had completely wrecked his dress pants.

And worst of all, it turned him on. Ron was looking over at him; the ripping sound was loud enough to carry through their narrow office. “Uh, wardrobe malfunction?” he asked.

Finn flushed. “Little bit,” he said. He rested a hand on his oversized gut, giving it a little rub. “Hitting the snacks a little hard I guess.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, and then turned back to his computer without comment. Finn’s boner strained against the front of his ruined pants, and he grabbed a handful of chips from the bag on his desk.

Eating five large meals a day used to be a struggle. Then it became the norm. Now, if Finn didn’t load up on lunch from at least two places, he was left crabby, his vastly overstretched stomach howling for more. But today, he used his lunch hour to waddle over to the mall next door, where he crammed himself into a pair of dress pants from a big and tall store. Seeing the way they cradled every bulge and roll, he faced facts and went a full two sizes up, hoping to accommodate his sprawling lower half for at least a little longer.

He only had time to grab a tray of burgers and fries from the mall food court, and he spent the rest of the afternoon feeling cranky and ill-at-ease, trying to get full from the horde of snacks he kept in his desk drawer. His constant chewing and burping clearly drove Ron insane, but Finn didn’t care—he was fucking hungry.

Finn’s expansion continued at its usual breakneck speed. Egged on by Damian, he packed more and more junk food into his gut, which turned into more and more lard padding his frame. He was blowing up like a balloon, and it drove him crazy with lust.

He’d invested in a scale that read the number out loud, since seeing past his voluminous gut had become impossible. It wasn’t like he missed looking at his chubby feet, and as long as he could still reach his cock, he was happy. When he heaved himself onto the scale and heard that he’d crossed the 400-pound mark, his heart soared. He was so tantalizingly close, now. At this rate, he was only a couple of months away from his target.

He stepped off the scale and ordered three pizzas to celebrate, washed down with a whole case of lager.

The looks he was getting at work ranged from curious to hostile to simply awestruck. His colleagues must have remembered just a few years earlier when his build had been fairly average; now, he was morbidly obese, left red-faced and sweating from the constant exertion of moving so much lard around. He took up so much space, stuffed his face constantly, chairs creaked and bowed under his heft—even his reinforced desk chair, a relatively recent addition to his office, was starting to show signs of wear. Hearing the indiscreet whispers as he left the breakroom carrying a handful of donuts made him insanely horny—what’s going on with him? He used to be kind of cute, now look at him! He’s as fat as a house!

Finn booked a doctor’s appointment, knowing that was the next step to make his dreams a reality. As soon as the date was set, he upped his intake even more, devouring thousands upon thousands of calories a day. Damian never seemed uncomfortable with the uneasy looks on the server’s faces when Finn ordered multiple appetizers and entrees at their weekly bar night; if anything, he encouraged Finn to order even more.

He got his bloodwork done in preparation for his doctor’s appointment, noting the shocked look on the nurse’s face when he showed up in a shirt that clung to his gut and moobs, framing it like the world’s fattest painting.

Finally, the day arrived. That morning, he realized he’d actually overshot the mark when he weighed in at 428 pounds. His thighs rubbed together as he waddled down the driveway, and he squeezed himself into the driver’s seat of his car, which dipped to the side under his bulk. He stopped for a bag of burgers on the way to the clinic.

Sitting under the fluorescent lights of the doctor’s office, Finn shifted his giant bulk, which ballooned over the sides of the chair like an avalanche of flab. He squirmed uncomfortably as Dr. Hendricks looked over a piece of paper, his handsome face grim. The fact that he was something of a silver fox—with an athletic build, chiselled features, salt-and-pepper hair, and short stubble—deepened Finn’s embarrassment about the whole situation, as well as his arousal. The doctor looked up, removing his glasses.

“Well, it’s not good, Finn,” he said, finally. “Your thyroid levels are normal, so it’s not hormonal. But your cholesterol is high, blood pressure is high, blood sugar is almost dangerous… young man, this is serious. You’ve gained over 230 pounds since our last appointment two years ago. If 230 pounds was your entire body weight, it would still be about 50 pounds too high.”

Finn nodded along. Hearing it put in those terms made his cheeks flush. He shifted again, aware of the way his giant ass bulged and spilled over his seat, the chair’s arms cutting into his expansive love handles. He was grateful for the way his gut monopolized his lap, disguising his boner.

“So, what’s going on with you, Finn?” Dr. Hendricks asked. “In my whole career, I’ve never seen anything like this. Not so much weight, so quickly, in a patient so young, without a hormonal component. Has there been… some trauma, maybe, that’s made you turn to food as a coping mechanism?” The doctor was clearly looking for some explanation that didn’t involve Finn using his body as a garbage can for every type of fast food that had the misfortune of crossing his ever-widening path.

Finn shook his head. He rubbed the rolls on the back of his neck with his pudgy fingers, a move which caused his undersized t-shirt to ride up, exposing a thick expanse of belly fat. Dr. Hendricks glanced at it, wide-eyed. Finn tugged it down, but the hem still couldn’t contain it all. “It’s—it’s nothing like that, doctor. Honestly. I guess I just like my food a little too much.”

Dr. Hendricks frowned, and made a note in Finn’s chart. He wondered what the doctor was writing. Fat fuck, maybe? Giant pig? Finn inhaled: it was showtime.

“But… I think I have one idea, at least about part of the problem,” he said. “At my job, I’m just sitting around on my computer all day…. When I was in school I used to bike to campus sometimes, but now I sit in my car, ride the elevator to my office, and then I just sit and snack all day….”

The doctor nodded along, jotting down a quick note. “Remind me what you do, Finn?”

“Customer service. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a decent job, but I share an office with, well, a pretty big guy,” Finn lied. “He’s always bringing in unhealthy snacks, and I guess it’s rubbed off on me. It’s like, when I’m at my desk, I’m always eating. And there’s a food court on the ground floor of our building, it’s so tempting that I end up eating three meals a day there, sometimes. Sometimes more. Big meals.”

The truth was the opposite: Finn was the big guy in the office, and Ron was the one who was picking up his bad habits. And he didn’t just eat three meals a day in the food court; it was almost always more.

Dr. Hendricks nodded. “And you haven’t had success with portion control, or exercise?”

Finn reached across his blubbery breasts, running a hand along his flabby upper arm. “I keep trying to cut back, but I’m just too tempted. And in terms of exercise, I feel so tired by the time I get home from work that I just can’t make myself go to the gym.”

That part was mostly true, at least. Except for attempting to cut back.

“Have you considered seeing a therapist?” Dr. Hendricks’ voice was gentle. “What you’re describing sounds like it could be food addiction.”

Finn swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He was fully clothed, but sitting under the fluorescent lights, he felt exposed—an enormous, naked blob of a man. A small part of his brain knew that maybe the doctor was right, maybe he was getting hooked on the high of fat, salt, and sugar… assuming he wasn’t hooked already. It was more than a little erotic. But he pushed those thoughts aside and pressed ahead with his performance. “Maybe I should see someone, yeah. But I really think the biggest problem is my job.”

Ten minutes later, Finn left Dr. Hendricks’ office with a note recommending that work from home would be helpful to Finn’s weight loss plan. He’d also sworn up and down that he would change his diet, start exercising, and see a therapist—promises he had no intention of keeping. He’d gotten what he wanted, and he didn’t plan on going back to see his doctor anytime soon.

Finn was glowing as he made his way home. The next day, he handed the doctor’s note to his boss, who looked it over. The slim man’s exasperation was obvious, but he managed to keep it contained, no doubt conscious of the union rep staring at him with a serious look on her face.

And then, it was done. His plan was complete. He boxed up his office at the end of the day, and headed home, hoping never to return. Except, perhaps, to flirt with Sam and keep tabs on Blake’s steady and seemingly inexorable transformation from cub to chub.

Okay, now that I’ve got what I want, I can start to shift some of this weight, Finn thought when he woke up the next morning. He’d celebrated pretty hard the night before—pizzas, fried chicken, cake, pie, with beer and soda to drink… a true feast. It was supposed to be a last hurrah. But now, he had to start cutting back. Time to put Damian to shame, he thought, grinning.

His diet plans didn’t exactly pan out.

Before settling into his couch to work, Finn had two pieces of toast with peanut butter for breakfast. In the old days, that would have been enough to carry him through the whole morning. But he was hungry again within a half hour, distractingly hungry. He kept zoning out when he was supposed to be answering emails, conscious of how empty his stomach felt.

Well, I can’t exactly change overnight, Finn thought, as he punched in a mobile order for a couple of breakfast sandwiches and a few hasbrowns. Not realizing what he was doing, he finished off a box of cookies before they even arrived.

The rest of the day went similarly: he thought about cutting back, and then his stomach and his brain conspired against any attempt to actually do it. By the end of his workday, his stomach was achingly full, packed with more donuts, pizza, and Chinese food than he ever ate at the office.

Okay, I’m really gonna do it today, Finn would think each morning. I’m actually going to lose some weight now. But after years of stuffing and overstuffing his gut, stretching it to new and obscene proportions, it took a lot to make him feel full. If anything, any attempts to cut back left him feeling so miserable and hungry that he invariably ended up overdoing it, eating more than he needed to compensate for his few hours of attempted restraint. So he kept eating, and his portions kept escalating, and he didn’t lose any weight. 

In fact, as he tried to button up his shirt before a video call one morning, he came to the uncomfortable conclusion that he’d piled on even more. The shirt wouldn’t even button over his fat gut. He managed to close it over his tits, though, and got away with it by keeping the camera pointed at his chubby face and soft shoulders.

He confessed his struggles to Damian one night, when his muscular friend showed up with a bag brimming with takeout. Finn had told him to stop bringing snacks, and then immediately changed his mind, telling Damian to keep that good food coming. Damian was a little reluctant, at first, but it didn’t take him long until he was back to his old habits: filling his car with family-sized meals and bulging bags of snack foods to ply on his ever-greedier, continuously-expanding best friend.

“I don’t think I’ve lost any weight,” Finn said, frowning as he took another heaping forkful of fried rice.

Damian looked him up and down, seeming to take in the sheer vastness of Finn’s enormous body as it dominated the couch. “Well, have you tried cutting out snacks?”

Finn frowned. “Not exactly.”

“What about exercise? You could come to the gym with me.”

“Definitely not,” Finn said. The idea of stuffing his hundreds of pounds of blubber into workout clothes and putting on a humiliating show for the muscle-heads at Damian’s gym sounded like an exercise in humiliation, besides being utterly exhausting.

Damian sighed. “I was kind of hoping you’d say yes. I need a new workout buddy.”

“What about Richard?” Finn asked, through a mouthful of General’s chicken. “You were just saying last week that you finally benched more than him.”

Damian looked like he was about to cry. He bit his lower lip and looked away. “Richard told his wife about us. He confessed everything and begged her to forgive him. He told me he joined another gym, so I doubt I’ll be seeing him again.”

Finn frowned, and rested a hand on Damian’s steely shoulder. He knew this was coming, even if Damian was blindsided. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Sounds like you need a drink.”

Damian hesitated. He was always going on about liquid calories, but Finn watched him leap off the couch and stride into the kitchen, where he pulled out a couple of beers.

A few hours later, Finn was buzzed and Damian was plastered. He’d spent the evening pouring his heart out about how he’d never find love, how he’d never heard a guy say “I love you”, how there must have been something wrong with him.

Finn swallowed a mouthful of cheesecake. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” Finn said. He meant it. In Finn’s eyes, Damian was totally perfect. Hardworking, honest, funny, kind… not to mention stunningly attractive and with a great job. “You’re the whole package.”

Damian scoffed. “You’re just saying that. You have to say that, you’re my best friend.”

Finn looked him in the eyes. “No, I really mean that. I think any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Not any guy,” Damian mumbled. His voice was bitter. He took another sip of beer.

“What do you mean?”

Damian’s eyes searched Finn’s round face. “Well, the only guy I’ve ever wanted sees me as a friend. No matter how hard I throw myself at him, he never makes a move.”

Finn was floored. “You mean…”

Damian nodded. An embarrassed look crossed his handsome face. “Yeah. You. I still think about that night we kissed, how much I wanted it. How much I want to do it again.”

“I think about it, too,” Finn admitted. He’d never stopped thinking about the feeling of Damian’s soft lips against his, their slender bodies pressed together. “All the time.”

“I’ve loved you since we were 12 years old, Finn. Looking at you through our bedroom windows, across our yards… God, I would have done anything for you. Why do you think I let you copy my homework, my tests? Or took the fall for you when your parents found that weed in your backpack, even though I got grounded for a month? Because I’ve always been fucking crazy about you.”

Finn’s heart was pounding in his chest, and not only from the mountain of dessert he’d just devoured. “What, even now? Now that I look like this?”

“Especially now,” Damian answered. His expression was so serious, his eyes so honest… “God, it’s like… the bigger you get, the crazier you drive me.”

Finn smiled. “What, you mean you’ve liked blowing me up like a balloon?”

Damian grinned shyly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Some days after I bring you snacks, I have to rush home to, uh, relieve myself.”

Finn laughed at that. “Wow. And here I thought you were just being friendly.”

Damian looked across the room, not meeting Finn’s gaze. He took another swig of beer. “A real friend would’ve told you what a blimp you were turning into. A real friend wouldn’t get off on seeing how many calories he could pile into your gut in a single sitting.”

Finn shook his head. His cock ached at the thought of Damian feeding him, getting off on his fattening body. “Well I guess I don’t want a ‘real’ friend. I want a friend like you.”

Damian blushed. Finn leaned forward, straining to reach over his beach ball-sized gut, and set his beer on the table. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Damian’s face.

“So many times when I’ve been with Richard, I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking about how big your butt is, how badly I want to grab it and squeeze it and make your whole body shake. Thinking about how you used to be even smaller than me when we were younger, and how now you could bury me under all your weight and still have plenty to spare. Thinking about—”

Finn leaned in and pressed his lips against Damian’s, shutting him up. Damian melted into the kiss immediately, his body slackening as he collapsed into Finn’s bulk.

And suddenly, they were 18 again, drunk on fireball shots and lying on Damian’s bed after Lindsay Decker’s house party, giggling like fools until their lips met and the whole world disappeared around them. It was just the two of them, just Finn and Damian, their shared past and future collapsing into one breathless kiss.

Damian exhaled, and then kissed Finn even more forcefully, his arm draping around Finn’s neck, his free hand reaching out to cup one of his soft, bulging breasts, nipple poking against his slender fingers. Finn kissed him back, one hand on Damian’s narrow waist, the other cupping his angular face, the tips of his fingers brushing through Damian’s soft hair. He’d been waiting so long for this moment, always afraid that he’d misread some signal or that he couldn’t be the man his best friend deserved. But he’d waited long enough. They both had. He was ready.

They laughed when their lips pulled apart, the tension vanishing behind them. “Are you gonna regret this in the morning?” Finn asked.

Damian’s expression turned serious, almost defiant. “The only thing I regret is taking so long.”

Finn couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

“So…” Damian said. He fixed Finn with a lusty gaze, eyes lidded with pleasure, and licked his lips. “How about we take the rest of this cheesecake and head to the bedroom?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because you’re drunk?”

Damian shook his head. “I’m not that drunk,” he said. He trailed his fingers along the endless curve of Finn’s palatial belly, caressing the naked flesh that erupted out from under the hem of his shirt. “I’ve just spent so long fantasizing about feeding you properly, and… well, why settle for off-brand diet cola when you can have classic Coke?”

Now Damian was speaking his language.

~

Finn’s ears perked up at the sound of the key turning in the front door. He shifted in the love seat, briefly considering getting up to greet Damian at the door, but decided against it. It would take a couple of minutes to build up enough momentum to haul himself to a stand.

“I’m home!” Damian called from the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” Finn called back. “I’m so frickin’ hungry. Starving, even.”

“Hold your horses, big fella, let me get my coat off first.”

“Hurry,” Finn whined, trailing his hand across his gut to soothe it. He’d polished off two pizzas for lunch, followed by two family-size bags of chips and a package of twinkies, but he hadn’t eaten in almost an hour. He knew he wasn’t actually hungry, but when he wasn’t eating, he started to get antsy. He chugged some soda, squirming in anticipation.

A moment later, Damian appeared in the living room doorway, muscular arms flexing as he carried two heaping grocery bags. Damian had to make grocery runs on a daily basis to keep up with the demands of Finn’s relentless appetite.

He must have encountered quite a scene in the living room: just like he always wanted, Finn was seated on the couch in his underwear, TV playing in the background. Except, he’d never imagined just how truly, colossally, unbelievably fat he would be. He was so wide that his bulging flanks brushed against the sides of the loveseat, which bowed in the middle under his immense, crushing weight. His laptop balanced on top of his belly, which was more a table than a shelf, which plowed outwards in front of him as far as his knees. His thighs were like industrial drainage tubes, his melon-sized manboobs pouring off his chest and sticking out to the sides. When he leaned back, the combined weight of his breasts and mountain of belly fat compressed his lungs.

“So, how are those weight loss plans coming along?” Damian asked, with a wry smirk.

“Very funny,” Finn said. He still maintained that he would lose some weight, but that was starting to seem more like fantasy than an actual, tangible possibility. Just halting his astronomical weight gain would be a challenge at this point, given how hopelessly addicted he was to stuffing his face. He had an appointment with Dr. Hendricks in a few weeks, and he could only imagine the look of horror on the gorgeous doctor’s face when he showed up so fat that he could barely fit through the doorway, not to say into an office chair. “Are you just gonna stand there and watch me slowly starve to death, or are you gonna bring those snacks over?”

Damian rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Yeah, I can tell you’re really famished. My first clue was all the garbage scattered around.” He did as he was told, bringing the grocery bags over to Damian, who immediately tore open a package of donuts. Relief flooded across his brain as soon as the taste of powdered sugar touched his tongue.

Damian had a point: there was garbage everywhere. In addition to Finn’s gluttonous afternoon, there were also pastry boxes and fast food wrappers scattered around from his two breakfasts and morning snacks. He’d asked Damian to start leaving the door unlocked so delivery drivers could let themselves in and bring the food straight to the couch; getting up was too much effort. Finn enjoyed watching them squirm uncomfortably at the sight of such an enormously obese blob of man sprawled out across an entire sofa, too fat and lazy to even reach his front door; he wondered if they ever felt morally conflicted about their role in his escalating obesity. He hoped they didn’t, given how much he was enjoying it. Sam and Blake certainly didn’t seem to mind, when he’d made his way to the office to get a new work computer a few weeks earlier. Blake had to have crossed the 300 pound mark—big enough to catch Sam’s attention, judging by the looks they were swapping across the food court.

“How was work?” Finn asked, through a mouthful of donuts. “And the gym?”

“Work was lame, gym was good,” Damian said. He reached for a donut but Finn slapped his hand away.

“It’s not—braaaaawp—cheat day,” he said; a window-rattling burp interrupted him mid-sentence.

Damian sighed, “You’re right.”

“Can’t—urp—have you getting chubby on me,” Finn joked. He honestly didn’t care how much Damian weighed; if his boyfriend thickened up a little, he wouldn’t mind one bit. But there was something deeply erotic about being so incredibly fat and still forcing a complete beefcake like Damian to submit and obey. It wasn’t about food or weight—it was about power.

“No, we can’t have that. Nothing but whitefish and flaxseed and creatine for your live-in manservant,” Damian joked back. Finn made it clear early on that he loved Damian’s body no matter what; his jockish boyfriend knew that any teasing was all in good fun. He clearly liked his submissive role in their flirty back-and-forth. “How was your day?”

Finn belched again; that second bottle of soda was really wreaking some havoc. “Good. I had to put a shirt on for a Zoom meeting, so I guess it was a gym day for me, too. Oh, Tony from IT is back in the office, apparently. Lost a bunch of weight. So I’m officially the fattest guy at work by a long shot.”

“Congratulations,” Damian said. The fact that Finn considered putting on a shirt to be a workout clearly had him hot and bothered, judging by the bulge in his pants; he hooked his thumbs into his waistband, sliding them down a little to reveal his Adonis belt. “How do you wanna celebrate?”

“With cake,” Finn said. When he saw Damian’s frown, he smiled: “Only kidding. Well, half kidding. Cake, but also a nice game of ‘find my dick’, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh, I’m always up for it,” Damian said, smiling devilishly as he ran a hand through his hair.

“But, uh, wanna grab me some ice cream first? To go with the donuts?”

Damian nodded, “Of course, big boy,” he said. He disappeared into the kitchen, the picture of obedience.

Finn smiled as Damian returned, cartons of ice cream clutched in each hand. Finn had found the ultimate life hack: as long as Damian was around, he could get away with doing absolutely nothing.

[wicca-foxes]

Fellow witches and practitioners, I come with a sweet, simple and closet-friendly tip/reminder!

✨You CAN make your altar DIGITAL✨

Let me explain:

For multiple reasons, you may not have an altar and (unlike myself) you don't need to feel bad for not having one set up properly. You can take your preffered game that has furniture placement and make an altar in it. You can also use any drawing medium to create one.

For games, Sims comes first to mind. It is very easy with the Realm of Magic pack to create an altar, but you can also get the base game for free and delve into CC (custom content) and pick basic elements of an altar (cauldron, candles, broom, knife, wand, etc.) but also embelishments. Skyrim has the possibility of making an altar in your own house (altho I am not very sure about it, as it's not my chosen medium). Animal Crossing New Horizon also gives us a plethora of items that we can create an altar with. Bonus points for the portability of a Switch, you can bring your virtual altar with you all the time. I've been experimenting with Genshins' housing system and the posibility of creating an altar in there too, I am sure it can be done.

For drawing, making one in your Book of Shadows could be an amazing addition to it! You can also make it so you can place some items on it, as example crystals or plant-offerings. It doesn't need to be artistically created, just the existence of it is enough. You can use pictures or drawings that others made if that would be easier for you, either printing the picture or putting it into a medium as Goodnotes or a PDF you might have on your phone is also a good solution. You could also make it your desktop/wallpaper if you chose so.

Please note that it may not feel like a real altar, you can't interract with it in the same way you would with a physical altar. Treat it as a mini-altar version, a visualiser that will aid you in your prayer, spell making and meditation. Just having one, be it physical, virtual or paper-based, may bring you some happiness and tune you in with your practices. It's also impostant to state that a lack of altar doesn't make you less of a practitioner! Walking slowly is still walking, it matters more that you enjoy yourself and you find importance in your practice.

Stay safe folks ❤️, blessed be!

[poisedpen]

✒ Solo RPGs

About a month ago I went down a rabbit hole and came out the other side absolutely obsessed.

A singular post on r/fountainpens notified me to the existence of Solo Journaling RPGs- literally, tabletop experiences that you play by yourself. Some of these games have physical components, but many are played entirely with a pen and a piece of paper.

Needless to say, I was absolutely thrilled at the concept of being able to scratch that TTRPG itch without the social drain, impossible scheduling, AND with the bonus of using up my enormous stores of fountain pen inks. Since the middle of November I have tried three separate Solo RPGs, with one being a longer experience with a physical book with rules and tables...with the other two finished experiences being short, one-to-two page PDF's that can be played out in several hours.

✒ Experiences so far...

During my first attempt I tackled a larger-than-anticipated RPG called Apothecaria. In this game, you are sent a letter by a witch who wishes for you to take her place making potions in the town of High Rannock. You gather reagents, explore, make potions, and develop your reputation and relationships with characters in town. Very Stardew Valley inspired, but with a fun, witchy twist. There is also a cute animal version called Apawthecaria, as well as a few expansions for the main game, which I have yet to look at.

I was excited to start but otherwise clueless about the typical pacing and play of journaling RPGs, and soon found that I was writing way too much information!! My hand got tired, and I put it aside for the time being. I will have to revisit it soon, as it is DISGUSTINGLY cute and fun, but for now I have focused my sights on smaller experiences.

During my second, I played a cute little experience called Last Tea Shop. The game has since released a "full" version with more mechanics, but I found the classic version to be exactly what I was looking for on a lazy saturday night. It took me about 4.5 hours to complete thanks to several distractions, but the playtime was probably closer to 3.

I found this to be a strangely emotional little experience, which probably should have been expected since you are playing as a shopkeep at the edge between life and death. I will admit to shedding a few tears by the end of my journey- but they were happy ones. I will be returning for the full version sometime after I have let the experience settle.

My most recent experience-- as of maybe 30 minutes ago, to be precise-- is a lesser-known RPG called Axe Wielding Priest. This was a wonderful switch up from the cozy games I have tried so far, and as a person who adores a good (but understandably controversial) "sanity" mechanic in a game, it scratched my itch for madness.

There are some warnings in the description for blood, self-harm (flagellation), violence, and paranoia, but I thoroughly enjoyed the 2 hours I spent exploring the mind and history of my character.

✒ Conclusion

I am absolutely obsessed. I'm always itching to come up with stories, but have burned many a role-playing partner by being flaky or losing interest. These offer a few overarching mechanics and rules and otherwise let your mind run free. That sense of loose structure is exactly what I need as someone who struggles with ADHD, but also enjoys coming up with solutions within a set boundary.

There are "old-school" solo RPGs out there, as well as others that aren't just acting as a tool for creative writing. I will be trying some of those out as well as the time comes, as well as the games that use physical maps and movement around a grid.

[engineeringmath]

College Physics by Openstax Chapter 6 Problem 27

(a) What is the radius of a bobsled turn banked at 75.0° and taken at 30.0 m/s, assuming it is ideally banked? (b) Calculate the centripetal acceleration. (c) Does this acceleration seem large to you?

The radius and centripetal acceleration of a bobsled turn on an ideally banked curve Problem: (a) What is the radius of a bobsled turn banked at 75.0° and taken at 30.0 m/s, assuming it is ideally banked? (b) Calculate the centripetal acceleration. (c) Does this acceleration seem large to you? Solution: Part A For ideally banked curved, the ideal banking angle is given by the formula . We…

[itsgerges]

Best Greetings

Can We Explain The Earth And Pluto Data Consistency?

Data

The Earth velocity (29.8 km/s)= Pluto velocity (4.7 km/s) x 2π

Pluto day period (153.3 hours = The Earth day period (24 hours) x 2π

Pluto orbital distance 5906 m km = the Earth orbital distance 149.6 m km x (2π)^2

Pluto orbital Period 90560 day = the Earth orbital distance 365.25 days x (2π)^3

Major Data

Pluto (4.7 km/s) moves in its rotation period (153.3 hours) a distance = 2.59 million km-

The Earth (29.8 km/s) moves in its day period (24 hours) a distance = 2.574 million km (error 1%) –

The moon displacements total in 29.5 days (the moon day period) be 2.59 million km

And

The Earth Moon Orbital Apogee Circumference = 2.55 million km (error 2%)

Discussion

Why Are These Four Distances Equal?

because

The Motion Is Transported From Pluto To The Earth- Can this idea be proved? 

The idea tells– Pluto motion is transported to the Earth and as a result both planets move equal distances in their days periods and also the two planets motions data be in full harmony and consistency – also- the Earth moon motion be in harmony with them because the moon moves with the Earth. 

These results can be produced simply by the Transportation Of Motion

But –

Can The Motion Be Transported Among The Planets?

There are 2 necessary requirements to perform that which are 

(first requirement)

The Space Has Mechanical Features

This fact is proved simply – let's asks (Where's The Planet Motion Energy?)

The planet motion must produce energy and this energy can't be stored inside the planet body because it would raise its temperature -by that-we have only one solution tells (The Planet Motion Energy Is Stored In The Space)

The space is similar to the sea of water and the planet motion through the Space is similar to a fish motion in the sea - The fish motion energy creates waves in the sea – similar to that- the planet motion energy creates waves in the space and these waves are similar to the water waves – shortly – the planet motion energy is stored in the space in waves from -these waves are similar to the water waves, they move far from their sources and can be reflected–

Shortly- we have a reason to suppose that the space has mechanical features by which the planets motion energy can be stored in waves form and can move freely through the space – But

The next question is

Can The Gravitational Waves Be Created By The Planets Motions Energies?

The waves I have described here are typically similar to the gravitational waves – shortly – the scientists have discovered the waves in the space –they called them wrongly (gravitational waves) because they believe the sun produces a gravitational field–while the fact is that- these waves are produced by the planets motions energies (CONT)

Physics Nobel Prize For Imaginary Ideas! (Revised)

or

Gerges Francis Tawdrous

Peoples' Friendship university of Russia

ORCID       https://orcid.org/0000-0002-1041-7147

Facebook    https://www.facebook.com/gergis.tawadrous

VK              https://vk.com/id696655587

Tumblr        https://www.tumblr.com/blog/itsgerges 

Livejournal https://gerges2022.livejournal.com/profile

box              https://app.box.com/s/47fwd0gshir636xt0i3wpso8lvvl8vnv

Academia    https://rudn.academia.edu/GergesTawadrous

[oraclekleo]

Book a Tarot Reading (Paid)

Status: CLOSED

(1 reading per request!)

!! Attention !!

The types of tarot readings I don’t do:

Aura Readings

Questions where there's only one correct answer (is someone dating, etc.)

What someone unknown to me thinks

Emergency readings (tarot is about long-term self-development and growth, it's not an emergency solution to your issues)

Readings about a relationship in between two people, when the querent isn't one of them

Time of death

Mental disorders, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, abuse

!! Rules and conditions !!

The querent has to be at least 15 years old or older (I can't check with anons but, please follow this rule)

For Celebrity tarot readings, the celebrity has to be 21 years old or older (I will check)

Before requesting a tarot reading, please, LIKE and REBLOG the Pinned Post (All you need to know)!

Feedback is mandatory from now on! If you want to request again next time, I'm gonna kindly ask you to give at least a short feedback. I take several hours to complete the readings, it's surely not too much to ask for you to take 2 minutes to write a feedback.

!! Disclaimer !!

Tarot isn’t an exact science. I can’t ever guarantee any of it. I don't meet any of my querents or celebrities in person. All the tarot readings have purely light-hearted or entertainment purpose. Don’t base important life decisions on tarot readings only. I’m not a therapist, physician, medical expert or psychiatrist. If you are facing serious mental or physical health issues, seek a professional and don’t rely on tarot readings only.

Book a Tarot Reading

Hello,

I offer a list of tarot reading services which you can see below.

Unless said otherwise, all tarot readings are only a digital content and no physical item is going to be shipped to you. For that reason refunds are not available.

Before requesting for any reading, please, read the instructions and if anything is unclear to you, reach me through my email oraclekleo@gmail.com before requesting so we prevent any misunderstanding on both sides.

The model for requesting a paid reading is always the same and it differs from the usual one online, so please make sure you read the full info.

How to request a paid reading:

Pick a reading from the offered list below.

Book your reading through a form linked to each type of reading

You don’t pay in advance! You will be announced through email that your reading is ready for download. I will try my best to deliver the reading within 2 weeks.

Once the reading is complete, you will receive a link leading to my ko-fi page where you can purchase it in a PDF form.

After you purchase the reading the celebrity ones are going to be posted on the website. The personal readings will only be posted if you have given your permission to it in the form. If you have ticked you want the reading to remain private, the reading will be deleted from the ko-fi page after payment and not posted publicly.

Special offer readings for FREE are going to be posted on Tumblr. The special offer FREE readings have no deadline. I will complete them as I feel like it and I have the right to reject the request if I feel uncomfortable vibe. You will be informed through email, if I can't complete your request.

DUE TO GLITCH PLEASE VISIT THE NEW PAIED READINGS PAGE!

Book a Tarot Reading (Paid) Instructions

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

I‘d love to read your new work Till Death (once you publish it), but you said you‘d just publish it as an ebook, right? I don’t own an ebook-reader, would I still be able to read the book (somewhere else)?

Hello Anon!

Well first of all, thank you so much for your interest! 🥺

I always offer a PDF as well (because I make them prettier). That's a pretty universal format, despite the downsides in accessibility. Most devices should be able to open those without problem, but it's impossible to adjust font size or color or anything.

Besides that, an ebook is just a file like any other — most commonly .epub. Now DRM (digital rights management - copy protection) is something else, but I'd obviously not be using that :D Like the others, it's gonna be just a simple download.

There are apps to open them for every platform, for example Calibre for Windows, Linux and MacOS. It has light mode, dark mode, custom color schemes, font sizes, etc. The only one I am not familiar with is iOS.

I read most of my books on my (android) phone, with the MoonReader app — I believe it's free but with ads, I bought the pro version ages ago for how customizable it is. Custom font override, custom background if the supplied ones aren't enough, saves reading position in the cloud, pretty decent TTS using the installed voice engine. I probably am not even using 10% of what it can do.

Now I don't know which kind of device you have, and if those options are feasible, but feel free to hit me up when it's time, and I'm sure we can find a solution.

(In case you can't tell, I really love ebooks 🤣 It's just a whole world of books in my pocket I would never have gotten my hands on otherwise. The downside is, once the TBR isn't physical anymore, it can't topple over and bury you under it before you buy the 117th book.)

[raiasintended]

need an astrologer? sure, we all do!

Hey gang, I am now accepting requests for astrological services on a pay-what-you-can system.

Why request astrological services? 

Get detailed insight into the human condition as Foretold by the Stars™.

Understand the potential opportunities or challenges headed your way.

Know what kind of vibes you give off.

Sweet, sweet validation of what you already suspected about yourself.

Thought-provoking surprises as the cosmos read you for filth.

Participate in those memes about picking an image based on your Sun/Moon/Rising sign. Those are still around, right?

It’s fun (and for Entertainment Purposes Only)!

All readings are pay-what-you-can, meaning the prices listed are suggestions and you are free to decide how much to pay (including 0, noffin). 

All readings include your natal chart (and return chart if relevant) as well as an information sheet, provided as a Word document and a PDF.

🌚 ✨ Click here for my order form ✨ 🌝

Services Provided:

Natal Chart Basics: $30

This is a reading of the broad strokes of your natal chart, which represents your personality, motivations, and the source of your various talents and Agonies. The basics include brief interpretations of your Sun, Moon, and Rising signs, your chart ruler and dominant planets, your dominant element and modality, your chart shape, and any aspect figures that appear. Think of it as a summary of your entire chart.

Natal Chart Interpretation: $100

This includes the natal chart basics, plus an interpretation of the chart points in the signs and houses as well as major aspects. This is the “full” interpretation of your chart.

Natal Chart Interpretation, Focused: $125

If you have a specific question or challenge related to your life, I will interpret your natal chart to search for the possible themes, obstacles, and solutions. This includes a focused version of the standard interpretation, plus interpretation of minor aspects as necessary.

Return Charts: $45

Instead of predicting your psychological profile, returns predict the course of your life, like a long-term horoscope. This order is for one return (one period of time). 

Lunar Return: Predictions for a single month. Solar Return: Predictions for a single year, beginning on your birthday. Jupiter Return: Predictions for a span of 12 years, beginning on your 12th, 24th, 36th, etc, birthday. Saturn Return: Predictions for a span of 29-30 years. Saturn returns occur around age 30, 60, and 90, give or take a couple months. Mercury Return: Predictions for a single year, focusing on your Mercury (meaning the reading focuses on changes and flexibility, communications and writing, education, and travel). Venus Return: Predictions for a single year, focusing on your Venus (meaning the reading focuses on peace and harmony, relationships, hobbies, artistic pursuits). Mars Return: Predictions for two years, focusing on your Mars (meaning the reading focuses on energy and ambition, obstacles, competitions, and physical activity).

Birth Chart Rectification: $30

Don’t have your exact birth time? We will work together to predict your birth time using star-math and what we already know about your life. Because this is a consult and not an interpretation, we will need to schedule time to meet via text. 

Heads up: I will be asking questions about major life events and your approach to different personal matters. I understand if this isn’t something you’re comfortable doing, but it will be difficult to rectify your birth chart without it. I’m also repeating my “entertainment only” disclaimer here to remind you that this is for entertainment purposes only, and if it’s somehow a matter of life or death to know your birth time, please don’t rely on this!

If you’d like to have a real-time consultation with me over text or voice to ask questions about your interpretation, let me know and I’ll see if I can schedule some time with you. I request an additional tip for this (suggested at $30), but this too is pay-what-you-can.  

🌚 ✨ Click here for my order form ✨ 🌝

I will schedule your reading and contact you with a time when you can expect your report. More info under the cut!

What are your credentials?

I’ve been half-studying astrology since I was very young, and am now taking it Seriously and Professionally by continuing my education and offering readings. I’m an English major with a knack for pattern recognition, a passion for self-study, and a desire to help others. Every chart is a treasure map and I won’t stop until we find that loot (the loot may include inner peace, authentic self-expression, and useless trivia like “well actually my Sun is in Aries but my Moon and Ascendant are in Pisces, so—”).

What method of interpretation do you use?

It’s kind of eclectic: I borrow liberally from modern and traditional Western schools, depending on what seems accurate, interesting, or fun. There’s some Ptolemaic in here, there’s some Chaldean over there… as I learn and grow my practice more, I will adapt my methods. 

What points do you consider in interpretations?

Currently, I read all four angles (Ascendant, Descendant, Midheaven and Inner Heaven), the standard ten planets/luminaries, the Lunar Nodes, and Chiron. I use the Placidus House System, and consider intercepted signs in interpretations when necessary. I interpret the major aspects only, accounting for minor aspects during topic-focused readings or when a significant aspect figure appears in a chart.

Can you tell me my compatibility with someone else?

I am still studying synastry (the art of comparing the charts of multiple people). As soon as I feel comfortable with my grasp of the techniques, I will offer synastry readings as well.

Pluto’s not a planet.

Haha, yeah.

Why does it even matter that you’re an English major?

You know how in English classes you’re expected to read The Great Gatsby and then write entire papers on what the color yellow was supposed to symbolize, or why it’s important that Daisy’s voice “sounds like money?” This is what it’s like to interpret astrological data. And I enjoy it.

Then you really believe in this stuff?

Yeah! To a point. What I mean is: I believe it but I won’t stake matters of extreme importance on it or insist that it override my own common sense. I’m a student of the school of thought that astrology doesn’t predict events, it predicts how people will react to events, and how receptive they will be to the different opportunities and challenges that come their way. At its least, astrology can pull off some fun party tricks. At its best, it can help someone approach a difficult challenge with new faith and from a new perspective. But please remember that I am not licensed to give legal, financial, or psychological advice, and you shouldn’t treat the information I provide you as though I am licensed in any of those fields. Hence the “Entertainment Purposes Only” disclaimer.

[clatterbane]

That was certainly one workaround that I just resorted to.

Go to print off a single page from my laptop, where I have indeed successfully used that printer before. The job stays stuck on "processing" in the queue.

Cancel that job, which has now sat there for 6-7 minutes. Repeat a couple of times.

Check that the printer is actually turned on. Which involves getting Mr. C to physically poke at it, since he currently has it physically blocked off from my gimpy ass with some boxes. (Probably not on purpose. Probably.) At least he is sitting less than 6 feet away in the same room at the time.

Make sure the laptop and printer are currently sitting on the same wifi network. Because yeah they need to be, and we have two in here. Repeat previous steps a time or two, but with less physical poking at buttons.

Mr. C volunteers that he has also had trouble printing from his Linux box recently. The Mac and Windows systems are still working fine. Start suspecting some CUPS/Brother tomfoolery.

He offers to print from one of the systems that's been working, if I send the thing to him.

In a fit of stubbornness, I save the fucker as a PDF, mail it to myself, and try printing through my older phone. After the current main one doesn't even see the printer, though it is definitely set up on there too.

This half-baked solution actually works.

Was this something urgent? Not particularly. I just got persistent.

So yeah, I have never pretended to be particularly smart--but I really am not good at letting much of anything go. More to my benefit in this case than too many others. 🥴

[joel-newman]

Athletic Performance and Food

The Integral Link Between Diet and Performance

An athlete's diet plays an indisputable role in determining their performance. Just as vehicles need the right type of fuel to function optimally, athletes need the right nutrients to perform at their best. Proper nutrition ensures that athletes can train harder, recover faster, and, most importantly, stay injury-free. As a steadfast advocate for wholesome living, Joel Newman embraces the Athlete’s Diet, maintaining a conscious choice of nourishments.

Carbohydrates: The Primary Energy Source

Carbohydrates act as the primary source of energy for athletes. These are stored in muscles and the liver as glycogen, which provides sustained energy during prolonged physical activity. To optimize glycogen stores, athletes need to consume a diet rich in carbohydrates, especially in the days leading up to a major event or competition.

Proteins: Building and Repairing Muscles

While carbohydrates fuel the body, proteins repair it. Engaging in sports causes muscle wear and tear. Proteins play a vital role in repairing these damaged muscles and promoting growth. This doesn't mean athletes should consume excessive protein, but they should ensure an adequate and consistent intake as part of their daily diet.

Fats: Essential but in Moderation

While often misunderstood, fats are essential for athletes. They become a significant energy source during endurance sports when the body has depleted its glycogen stores. However, the key is to focus on unsaturated fats and Omega-3 fatty acids while limiting saturated and trans fats' intake.

Hydration: The Cornerstone of Athletic Performance

Even slight dehydration can significantly hamper an athlete's performance, reducing endurance, strength, and speed. Drinking sufficient water before, during, and after exercise is crucial. During prolonged activities, electrolyte solutions can help replace lost minerals.

Vitamins and Minerals: The Micronutrient Boost

Micronutrients might be required in small amounts, but their impact is enormous. Minerals like calcium and iron play crucial roles in muscle function and oxygen transport. Meanwhile, vitamins are essential for energy production and injury prevention. Athletes should prioritize a diet rich in fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains to ensure they receive these essential micronutrients.

Timing Matters

It's not just what athletes eat, but when they eat it. Consuming carbohydrates before an event can optimize glycogen stores. Post-event, a combination of carbs and protein can expedite recovery. This window, often touted as the "golden hour," is when muscles are most receptive to nutrients, speeding up recovery.

Conclusion

The relationship between food and sporting performance is intricate and interdependent. Athletes must view food not just as sustenance but as an essential tool in their arsenal, helping them train harder, recover faster, and perform better. With the right dietary strategies, achieving peak performance becomes a more attainable goal.