#and my mom said she'd give me money if I take my sister so like

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

TAKING MY SISTER TO THE MOVIES TOMORROW BTW

[icywebs]

An Adventure in Mum-Land

My mother died 10 years ago. It's really weird to say that, thinking about it. It both feels longer and nowhere near as long as that. She was pretty eccentric and had a habit of stashing stuff everywhere and was a bit of a hoarder.

Whenever we'd go on vacation she would bring a small seam ripper and would cut a couple stitches out of the bottom hem of the hotel curtains to stash cash and valuables - because the hems were huge. On many occasions she realized too late she left something valuable at the hotel.

We knew she stashed a lot of stuff in a lot of places and we had to literally rip up the carpet and I KNOW we didn't find everything. Every book had to be gone through because there'd be cash stored throughout the pages, every casset tape box had to be opened because there'd be cash or literal gold nuggets she got from Alaska stored in them.

We pulled dressers apart and found some of the valuable jewelry taped to the bottom of drawers. We ripped the box spring apart and found even more cash and odds and ends there. We peeled back wall paper and found some cash and thin jewelry stored there.

Literally had to take apart the kitchen table because we saw part of something she'd stashed there and couldn't figure out how she got it in there.

I give this context so that you understand these traits going in.

We had a pretty complicated relationship that I won't get into here. In the last years, we had begun rebuilding our relationship. She had mentioned several places she'd stashed various things, such as "In this specific corner in the bedroom under the carpet I stashed some of the gold nuggets."

Mom. Plz.

Salty aside: My step dad was pretty garbage about handling of her things after her death. I spent a month helping him dismantle the house and everything of value went to him, including items that were sentimental to my sister and I. He "nobly" allowed us to take some of my mother's and maternal grandmother's jewelry (but nothing that looked like it was of value), and said we could take the 'junk' jewelry but he kept most all the valuable jewelry that my biological dad gave her as well. He let us take other things, as long as they weren't valuable, and I had to fight him for a picture that was given to my parents by the artist to celebrate my birth. After his death, we inherited nothing further. He left my mom's stuff, property she owned before even meeting him and that my sister and I helped maintain, and all the money to his own kids but cut my sister and me out entirely when he died. There's some salt about heirlooms from my mom's family never being recovered because he decided to try to sell everything, including some things of very sentimental value. But I digress.

Among the things I was so graciously given was a random black snakeskin patterned grabbag. I forgot about it entirely and admittedly I didn't go through a whole lot. It found a place in my walkin closet and was forgotten as I grieved. Most other things that were obvious have been gone through since. It has been 10 years, afterall.

Fast Forward to last night! I am going through my closet and starting to purge a bit of stuff we don't need. We had a couple of bags of random LARP nicknacks and I initially assumed it was another bag of that. It was on its way to the purge box when I noticed a beaded bag sticking out. I stopped and pulled it out, thinking I would keep it because it was kinda cute.

As I went to empty the bag, I found half of one of those little cardboard boxes that usually hold a jewelry case. Within it was a bit of a jumbled mess... however, something stuck out to me - there was a hot air balloon enamel pin. My dad used to fly hot air balloons and I realized then that this bag wasn't LARP junk. There were several other balloon pins I found further in it that were even more familiar from friends of the family. The ballooning community is pretty tight knit, so we had a few of them.

There were some pairs of hoop earrings, some earrings that didn't have a partner, some random weird shit I don't recognize, a bullet??, some loose acrylic beads. Was... a bit chaotic.

I moved on to empty the rest of the bag.

I recognized the gold stud earrings my stepdad had been looking for. They're pretty heavy, I'd never want to wear them. Had I not known he was pursuing them I'd have ignored the boxes entirely and passed them off as some novelty of some sort... but... I knew what they were pretty quick. They were one of her investments, but held no sentimental value to me. I don't even know what to do with them.

Oh boy things got spicy! I realized then that I was in for a wild ride with this bag.

Pictured here is a random stick that was in the bag, cheap acrylic 'amber', a ceramic bead of some sort, hoop earrings that are aggressively 80s and huge, and the novelty glitter earring in the top right corner. Literally just glue and glitter. I hate glitter. Shit gets everywhere.

I glimpsed in the plastic baggy that holds a box with a 1/4 pack of cards. Most of them are missing. There's a jar of... we'll say vintage acrylic buttons, some vintage metal buttons, and a bonus decomposing mystery pill.

Opening an old jewelry case I was met with some old buttons, one with a missing glass gemstone, a half dollar, an old as fuck nickle, and a peso. There was also a tiny candle? And a segment of the remnants for my grandmother's rosary.

Next jewelry box, upon initial inspection, is empty.

But lo and behold! It's the Black Hills Gold, diamond, and tourmaline set my sister and I bought her for her 50th birthday!

I also found, within the heap, a solid gold chain necklace.

Mind blown. I KNOW chain necklace, she wore it often.

Moving along! I opened the orange... I think it was a hair mask? Container.

As I delve deeper I find the gold plated cannabis leaf, pipe mesh, piece of turquoise, another bullet? An iron nail? A screw? Some sort of brass vintage locket with mystery pictures???

Some earrings in the jar have partners and some that don't. Some of the earrings are sterling silver, some are very clearly the cheap kind that will make my ears break out. Of course this ecclectic mishmash of what even is happening is also hiding... a solid Black Hills Gold bracelet she cherished. The soft metal is scratched to shit and living in this fucking jar probably didn't help. It's kinda heavy. Also pictured is black coral bracelet that I forgot about while taking pictures cuz I was so stunned to find this bracelet.

Well. Okay. This happened. My mom's trademark jewelry was tossed in this grabbag.

It took a while but I finally moved on to find my grandmother's cherished obsidian necklace. It had been broken and needs to be restrung, so all the loose beads are kept in this... ancient... L'Oreal face mask jar.

At this point, I am just about to beat my head against my desk.

I finally moved on to the last box and had one final surprise.

Within this box was the platinum heart necklace with tourmaline, a sapphire, and peridot, one of her trademark sterling silver snake pendants, some safety pins, random agate beads, plastic beads, sterling silver hoop earrings, metal coated plastic beads, single earrings, and...

Unless I'm mistaken, the heart-shaped yellow-tinged (no, not champagne though that's what my stepdad insisted it was) diamond from her broken engagement ring. She'd caught the setting on something and it came off the band - and they had been looking for it to reattach it. We assumed it was lost to the void.

-----

While much of the heirlooms had been lost, it appears some precious pieces manifested in my closet. Literal gems mixed in with plastic odds and ends that were simply tossed in bags and stashed in corners. It's incredible that I've found so many pieces that I almost never saw my mom without, especially with my step-dad going through such great lengths to ensure we didn't get such treasures.

This has been such a good adventure and I'm definitely going to be looking into repairing broken pieces, cleaning everything properly, and get some of this to my sister.

Thank you for going on this adventure with me :)

[cherienymphe]

My sister got into a car accident during a snow storm on her way home from work like 4 months ago (after I told her to call in sick and she ignored me) she got a couple grand and me my mom and her pooled some money together to add to it so she could get a new car. So we share mine and my mom’s car in the meantime. My sister goes looking for a new (used) car online through dealerships and finds one she likes and tells our mom who promptly tells her no cause she’ll pay a note on it which is about $100 my mom then had the genius idea that she’ll give my sister her newly paid off car and she’ll buy a used car cause all of the cars are under her name and insurance. Okay fine. My mom gets another genius idea to buy a car from auction through a friend of a friend. Me and my sister firmly tell her no, she’s never met this man. She does it anyways. Fine. The car she wants is from a southern state. We’re northerners. I tell her no, the bank because she wants to wire this man the money tells her no. She decides to PayPal the man. I tell her if she does I’m taking my thousand dollars back. She starts tweaking about how I’m a child and should act like one (I’m 21) and I don’t know what she’s trying to do. I transfer my money back to me anyways. Suddenly I’m getting calls from my pastor and my sister is telling me just give her the money. I (stupidly) do it but say she’s going to get shat on in the end. Cause we’re all African and despite me being American I know not to do business with “friends” just because they’re countrymen. I was right in the end cause fucking car was a lemon and when I make it known my mom says it’s a hard lesson she learned. If she had listened from the jump she wouldn’t be in this position. And now my own car just crapped out so there’s one good car between the three of us. And until the guy sends a new car I can’t go to work. I told my mom I don’t want to hear about the car or how stressed she is and while I regret being mean about how I said I don’t regret stating my feelings because she’s not the only one affected and she’s not the only one stressed about how to pay for it. And she never listens to what I have to say. I’m always right in situations like these but no one listens until they’ve fucked up.

*me ignoring the emphasis on southerners and country men*

That's frustrating af lol. Like...without expressing my actual thoughts I don't really understand why your mom wouldn't be smarter about that? None of my immediate family has ever bought a car without checking it out themselves and getting a 2nd opinion from a mechanic

I know you're irritated as fuuuuuck bc yeah if she'd just listened to you the situation would be different and it's even wilder she didn't especially since this situation didn't just affect her. If it was just her and her money and her life cool she could be as careless as she wants but-

[jacscorner]

My Sister Sold My Dog Behind My Back

Etra-Chan Saw It~

Hi. My name is Karin. I live with my husband, Kuroki, in Tokyo. We work at the same company; I work part-time and he's salaried. The plan is for him to move up in the company and eventually for me to resign and become a homemaker. Once we get comfortable with that, then we'll have kids. Until then, we also take care of our dog, Coco.

I usually just drop Coco off at a dog daycare and pick her up in the afternoon. This works pretty well. However, something happened.

Kuroki: I just won a weekend trip at the Etra Resort!

Karin: Oh my God, that's amazing! That's the most expensive luxury hotel in the country!

But then, something horrifying happened; we realized that the dog daycare doesn't do overnight stays and our trip doesn't include boarding for dogs. So it looks like either we'll have to cancel the trip or I'll have to stay home with Coco. As a last resort, I decided to call my sister older, Azami. She's never been too big of a fan of dogs, but I hoped she'd be willing to help me out.

Azami: Oh, you want me to come over and dog sit for the weekend?

Karin: I know it's kind of a big ask, but I really need your help!

Azami: Well, alright. Just leave it to me.

Karin: You're a lifesaver, Azami!

And so, me and my husband went on our trip. It was like a vacation! But before I could really start to enjoy myself, I got a text from Azami.

Azami: [Karin, it's awful! I went to walk Coco, but she got off her leash and ran off!]

Karin: WHAT?!

I took the car and drove off to find and find her around my house. My heart was racing like a rocket. I was so scared; what happened to my poor little shiba?! And then, while I was in traffic, I got a notification on my phone. I thought maybe it was Azami or Kuroki, but instead, I saw one of my  Etrabook fans, Yuri.

Yuri: [I just got the cutest Shiba Inu!]

My heart sank. Cause that was definitely MY dog!

I immediately drove to Yuri's house and then I explained what happened.

Yuri: Huh? But, I didn't just find her. Azami sold her to me.

The two of us came to the same conclusion: Azami lied to both of us. Apparently, Azami said Coco was HER dog, but she couldn't take care of her, so she was trying to sell her off to a good home.

Once we got our story straight, Yuri gave me back Coco. I promised I'd get her money back, even though she insisted I didn't have to. But there was no way I was gonna let Azami get away with this. I drove to my house, forced my way inside, and confronted my sister.

Karin: Azami, you had no right to sell my dog!

Azami: What?! I did no such thing! Coco ran away!

Karin: Don't give me that! Yuri told me you sold her. And you're going to give back the money you swindled from her.

Azami: Nonsense! It's not my fault she tried to buy someone else's dog! Besides, you should be thanking me!

Karin: Thanking you?!

Azami: Aren't you and Kuroki planning to start a family someday? If anything, I did you a favor; it'll be better to get rid of your dog sooner rather than later.

At that point, I was seeing red; I couldn't believe what I was hearing! In a fury, I grabbed my sister by the ear and yanked her over my knee and began to spank her!

Azami: Karin! OW! What are you doing?! OWOW!

Karin: Doing what Mom used to do when you did stuff like this! Now apologize and agree to give Yuri back her money!

Azami: No!

Eventually, I removed her skirt, panties, and grabbed a hairbrush.

Azami: OWOWOWOW! Okay, okay! I'll give back the money! I'll give it back!

Karin: AND you're going to apologize! Properly! And buy Coco a new toy!

Azami: OOOWOWOWOWOW! Okay! Okay!

Azami ended up apologizing for her actions with tears on her face.

I was too tired to drive back with my husband, so I decided to just enjoy the rest of my vacation with Coco. I promised my husband we'd have a proper vacation another day and a date night when he got home.

I intended to do more Etra-Chan spanking art. But like a lot of things, I kept putting it off. This time, however, I mostly just wanted a good story to go with it and couldn't think of one that would be fun and outlandish, yet squarely in the realm of plausibility...that would lead to a spanking.

Azami is perhaps my least favorite Etra-Chan character, though it's mostly cause her English VA give her this screeching, "Miss Fowl" voice and it gets real grating real quick. XD But I still think she's very spankable. If Akane is every brat character put in a blender, then Azami is the embodiment of entitlement. A penny pinching Karen who just would sell her best friend for 62 cents. So I knew I had to draw her being spanked at SOME point.

[aromanticle]

i just got out of the shower and i have some thoughts to share about something that happened a few days ago

i went, with my sister, to see a psychiatrist. i didnt really want to do that cause deep down i just know that nothing a third party could ever do would truly help me in any way and the only person who can change the way i do things is myself, but that brief period i had with her actually did open my eyes. just not in a good way.

no one irl knows this but i actually have talked to a therapist online for a few months though one of those mental health related apps, a few times for free and i paid two dollars twice which actually ends up being not so cheap for me lol but i stopped because of something that was said to me. the person i talked to seemed to actually pay attention to what i said and she'd always tell me that the main problem i have in life in executive dysfunction which is very accurate. i dont actually know if the people the app provides are licensed or not and idk how trustworthy this all is but i actually feel like i had a positive experience with it for the most part. of course theres not much one can do when i only call them to talk about things that frustrate me and things i wish i could change about myself once every two weeks but at least i felt like there was someone out there who actually understands what i have to say.

my sister and i sat in front of a psychiatrist and told her we wish our mother actually gave a shit about us and did something to help her children have a better life instead of spending the day on her phone and guess what she said? "you cant change her, deal with it"

we were just around 10 minutes into our time together and my sister brought up concerns she had about me and she basically dismissed it completely, saying "but you dont have this trait" that someone would only know if they actually knew me when she had barely even talked to me at all. i always felt like i struggle with certain things that she said i have no problem with when she simply does not know me even a little bit at all. she just heard a couple things about me and assumed i am someone im not.

i said "i actually went back to school because i wanted to avoid trouble with my mom, not because i wanted to" and what she heard was "i loved going back to school". i said i used to want to be a literature professor and what she heard is "i like reading". my sister said i go to sleep too late (which is only partially correct) and she said "ok, i'll give you this so you can sleep"

i told her i gave up on the idea of being a teacher when i was 15 because i know how hard it would be to get there and thats not even what i want to do and she said "well this is a generation thing" like the reason i didn't pursue a goal i knew would lead me nowhere is because im a tiktok brained little gen z child that doesnt want to put effort into things that take time ???????? my dream is to star in a musical, i just dont have the means to do that. i know i dont. im never gonna have what i truly want so i can only chase after these smaller little things i could feasibly do but they dont last long. i know i'll never be happy as a teacher, not even as a literature professor, that's why im not gonna even try. i know this is gonna take years and im not even gonna be satisfied when i get there. im not gonna waste my time and money doing something i only kind of wanted to do, i shouldnt even have brought that up but we were talking about teaching and jobs and i thought it was appropriate to mention i once wanted to teach. not anymore.

i said i changed schools a lot. i liked the first school i went to, but my mom put me in a public school in third grade because well. it doesn't cost anything. but i hated going there because i couldn't get used to it. my mom then put me in a different school. i hated going there because i couldn't get used to it, but i knew if i said that to my mom she'd get mad. when i was in seventh grade my mom "threatened" to take me out of the school because of my grades and because i put no effort into my studies at all (because i hated going to school) so she put me back into a different school. i didnt like going there because i couldn't get used to it but i knew there was nowhere else for me to go. then i finally got to actually choose which school i was going to when i changed schools for the last time for high school. i went with a friend, so i assumed it would be easier. i hated going there. it was only at the end of my third year there that i thought "actually, i like this school. i wish i didnt change schools in third grade and stayed right here". and the psychiatrist said "you changed schools a lot so you clearly don't have a problem adapting to new environments". #girl you have talked to me for a grand total of 7 minutes.

i'm supposed to go back there and talk to her again in less than 30 days now and i am dreading the day i have to open my mouth and say a word to that woman again. i'd rather have my sister go alone or my mom or someone else and talk about me, i think i would be more helpful than if i go there and try to explain myself just for her to misunderstand everything i have to say.

[fatopiaplus]

Rob Ratcliff

Hey. How ya doin'? As you can see, my name's Rob Ratcliff. I'm not really here because I think I deserve to be here ... but Kia was a sugar and insisted I belonged her because of the circumstances of my, shall we say, transformation. Me, bein' a rat and she's a lioness, I thought I'd better agree.

I left home when I was pretty young because my parents and I didn't much get along well and I had grandiose dreams of being a rock star. I played guitar and sang, but I really didn't hit the big time like I'd wanted. My dad died sometime after I left, and I felt so much shame that I never went back home. I was working at a restaurant in the daytime and worked as a musician in bars at night. This isn't what I wanted. I got into a band as lead singer and guitarist and we went on a college tour, gaining a little popularity. Then, when I'd gone near my hometown, I saw that there was a fundraiser going on to get this girl an operation to save her eyesight and if she didn't have the operation, she would eventually go blind, or worse, the tumor would continue to grow and kill her. My mouth dropped when I saw that it was my little sister, Sarah. I didn't want her to know I was there ... so I went to the hospital and talked to the doctors to find out just how expensive the operation was going to be. The cost was several hundreds of thousands of dollars and although they had insurance and had raised a lot of money, they were still about $34,000 short. I couldn't afford that ... but I couldn't let Sarah die either ... That's when I saw the ad for a clinical test subject. They said the non-physical test subject would be given a bonus of $25,000 and would receive comfortable living, including a residence and furnishings, clothing allowances and pay of $2500 a month. Anxiously, I called the number and waited for an answer. After a few minutes of talking to the woman on the phone, I was overjoyed to hear that no one had yet filled the non-physical test subject. In twenty minutes, I was on my way to be interviewed. The woman who interviewed me was attractive, if a little older than me and she sat me down to fully explain what was expected of, and what was going to happen to, me. She told me that Gainex 6 was a dietary supplement that was designed to give extra energy to athletes or to provide extra nutrition to those who were malnourished or grossly underweight. In order for me to, basically be set for life, I would take the supplement as if I were a world class athlete but refrain from doing any strenuous activity. In essence, they were gonna see how much fat I gained taking the supplement if I did no exercise. I agreed. The woman asked me why I was doing this. She asked if I was a feedee. I told her I didn't know what that was, but my little sister needed an operation and without she'd die. I told her how much the operation was and she made arrangements to have the bill paid when I began treatment. I asked her not to tell my mom and sister where the money was coming from. I didn't want them to know. The woman agreed. The next day, I had all my physical stats measured and documented. Then the twelve week treatment began.

End of First Week: By the end of week one, I've gained 20 pounds, bringing my weight to 181 lbs. I'd been given the dosage of two pills twice a day. I have a hard time believing how fast and easily the weight had come. I hadn't eaten any more food than I normally did and now my pants are really tight in the gut. It's really dawning on me why I 'm the only one to volunteer ... or be chosen.

End of Second Week: The second week shows me a gain of 25 pounds, for a total of 45 so far. I had to wear my belly over my pants by the middle of the week because I couldn't get them fastened any other way. Weighing in, I was 206 pounds. It's my heaviest weight ever. I feel depressed and a little disgusted at myself, having to resort to being a lab rat to help my little sister. It sucks.

End of  Third Week: An additional pill for each dose was added to my regimen daily and by the end of the third week, I gained 50 pounds. 256 pounds. I can't even get my jeans up past my hips. My gut is getting huge and my thighs look pretty fat. If I'd gained 95 pounds in three weeks ... I can only cringe at the thought of the remaining nine weeks. I understand why the stipend is so high. I'm not going to be able to do anything. What have I done? What have I done?

End of  Fourth Week: When I woke up this morning, I was 60 pounds heavier for the week. 316 pounds and 155 for the study. Over the last week, I stopped to really take note of myself and what was going on. There were worse things in life than growing obese. Lots more. And if it meant that Sarah would be well again, who cared how fat I got? If  I got bigger than a house, then at least my baby sister would be taken care of and that's what mattered to me. The research scientist, Hollie Ward, noted my more jovial attitude and complimented me on it. She was quite pretty when she smiled and I began to look forward to her thorough weekly exams.

End of Fifth Week: This morning was a bit of a benchmark as I'd gained 75 pounds. I am 391 pounds now and my stomach is getting bigger and bigger. And softer. Every single pound I've gained went right below the skin, so when I walk around, I jiggle like Jell-o. Hollie cut me back to one pill three times a day and we both waited to see what would happen.

End of Sixth Week:  Call me crazy, but I am acually disappointed to find I've only gained 32 pounds this week. I'm up to 423, but I feel as good as I did when I was thin. Actually, I felt better. Funny, huh? My face has gotten rounder now, and I have a distinct double chin, but I feel very contented. Hollie wants to keep me on a lower dosage and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

End of Seventh Week: This morning's weigh-in confirms that the drug doesn't stay long in the system, because I've only gained another 31 pounds. I'm up to 464 and I'm hoping Hollie will up the dose again. I feel very good about being fat now and I do want to be bigger than I am right now. I'm going to talk to her about it tomorrow when I go in for my weekly supply of pills.

End of Eighth Week: Still no increase in pills. In fact, she took me down to one pill a day from three. Over the week, I gained a miserable four pounds. I'm only 468. Shoot! I think I can do better than that on my own by just eating a couple of pies. My fat is kinda like a drug, because I want more. I'm not addicted or nothin' but I would like to be fatter.

End of Ninth Week: I'm now up to a whopping 473 due to the fact that I'm still on only one pill a day. I guess I should be grateful because I'm not losing weight. I took time off during the week to check in at the hospital to see how Sarah was doing. She'd had her surgery the week before and the doctor said she was doing very well and that the surgery was an incredible success. She must have heard me asking the doctor about her, because I had seen her peek out from her room and look down the hall at me. She said my name, as if she sorta recognized me, but wasn't sure. I almost looked at her, but instead, hurried away. She came after me, calling my name again, but I was into the elevator before she could really see my face. How grateful I was to have my fat body. She wasn't sure it was me, and I didn't want her to know it was me. I couldn't come back into their lives now ... not when I'd abandoned them. That would be too selfish.

End of TenthWeek: Success! Hollie gave me eight! Eight pills a day for one week only! When I rolled out of bed this morning, I waddled (yes, I no longer walk - I waddle) to the office for my weigh-in. Drum roll please! I am now 602! That's 129 pounds gained in seven days! My total weight gain in ten weeks is 431 pounds. I've gained more than three times my original weight. Hollie seems to linger a little longer these days when she's measuring my waistline. I asked her if she liked me ... as boyfriend material. I told her I wasn't as smart as she was, but I could sing to her and play my guitar to serenade her. She smiled and told me yes. I couldn't believe it! She said she liked me as a boyfriend ... but then I asked her if she had a boyfriend. She told me yes. My heart sank. She told me about him. His name was Robert, but he went by Rob and that he was a very fat guy, but he was sweet and selfless and that she had been dating him for about ten weeks. Imagine my shock!

End of EleventhWeek: This week, Hollie cut me back to four pills and I only gained 35 pounds because I was using more of the calories to maintain my weight. If I wanted to stay big, I'd have to continue taking 2-3 pills a day. If I wanted ... If ... as I sit here and write this down, there's no doubt in my mind. I don't want to be thin ever again. I love this man that I've become, down to the last flabby inch and pound. I'll never go back unless my health fails, but again, I feel better now with all this poundage than I did when I was skinny. Hollie says that the medicine has adapted my body for extreme fatness and that the fat has made me healthier. Sounds really odd, but I believe her. My weight this morning was 637. Maybe I'll make it closer to 700 for next week. It's my last week. I can feel my pants getting tighter every day and it won't be more than three or four days before these pants are history. I can barely get them on now. As for my neck, it's history. I've only got chins. =) )) I'm happier now than I've ever been. Thank God for this clinical trial!

End of Twelfth Week: Hollie was an angel! She rigged it so I would gain close to a hundred pounds. A little under, but I'm happy to be an enormous 721 pounds. Now that I'm so obese (and happily so!) she's taking me to the wonderful home I now own. I was really shocked to see the house. It's so huge! Everything inside is geared for my size. My bed, bathroom, everything is designed with a super-sized person in mind. There's even a bidet! Lord knows I need one, as big as my butt is. For the first time since this started, I got to look at myself in a full length mirror. Man! I'm a lard-bucket! A handsome, super-fat man. I could see that my belly was down to my knees and my thighs and calves had rolls of fat on them which made them a little lumpy, but it was fine with me. Happy at last. My sister was being cared for, and I had a place of my own and money to keep me living comfortably.

Twenty-fourth Week after Treatment: My weeks of bliss turned to terror today. Sarah and Mom ... they found me. Seems Mom insisted to know who provided the aid to pay for the surgery. When White Plains Research Center's name came up, she called and through some smooth talking, she managed to get enough information out to get my name. A little more sleuthing and she found my home. When the doorbell rang and I waddled up to answer it, imagine my horror to see Mom standing there, eyes wide as saucers and slackjawed.  She'd last saw me three years ago, at 160 pounds and looking rather rough. Now I was in the grossly obese category, even though quite cleaned up. She spoke my name and I nodded, telling her that it was, indeed, her son Robert. Sarah pushed past Mom and pushed herself up against my gut. She said "I knew it was you, Rob!" in a rather, "I told you so" tone of voice. Mom told me that she'd wanted to find out who'd paid the hospital bills and that she'd gotten the info from the research center. She asked me where I got the money to help out. I put my hands on my fat belly and told her I volunteered to be a guinea pig and let myself be fattened by the Gainex 6 pills to pay for Sarah's operation. Mom's eyes filled with tears and she moved to me and hugged me. She told me I'd always be her little boy. Mom and Sarah's moving in with me and Hollie has agreed to marry me. I'm not a hero. I'm just an average guy who managed to get three wishes to come true: 1. I was able to get my sister cured. 2. I was able to come back home and find a girl who loved me without condition (save that I never decided to get thinner =D)) and 3. I've found what makes me truly happy. I've been very lucky. Thank you, God.

*A note from Akia: I've had the immense pleasure of meeting Rob in person. I've never met anyone as jovial and happy being so fat as he is. Hollie decided to take a week's worth of pills and now she's a plump 270 lbs herself. Take a look at Rob's band's album: Twenty Jars: Finding Yourself. Released on NewVision Records.

[shefeelsunwell]

i think i must have c-ptsd or silent borderline. the former is more likely. the smallest hurt turn into these giant episodes of unconsolable crying and panic attacks because something has triggered me to become and feel worthless again.

i got new antidepressants and they were working so well and i was so happy. i had also taken my ADHD medication so i felt so much like how other people out there probably feel. i worked for my mother for ten hours on saturday and i felt really good in the morning and i tried so hard and did my best to love her and comfort her and we cleaned her kitchen so she could have better access to her food and we made a shopping lost and i cleaned her up intimately and then post shift i stayed so i could get her groceries because she had nothing to eat really and everything she'd had in her fridge was out of date which is probably why she's had problems with her stomach and i put probiotics in her online pharmacy cart so they could order it since she had to go on antibiotics for sepsis and meningitis last hospital visit and i did her laundry and cleaned her kitchen and bedroom i ran around sweaty like a headless chicken and no one noticed or cared or thanked me. i hate that i'm still stuck wanting my mother i cannot seem to move on.

my father was going to take me to his countryhouse but he cancelled and said he had a stomach but but i know he lied about that he didn't want me to go with him and my first instinct was of course to run over there with soup and juice and hydration products despite last year i was home sick with covid and he failed twice to help me even though i asked him but i didn't. he was fine and mowing the lawn the next morning so i know he lied. on saturday i wrote him a long note of thanks because he had the previous week gone with me to the pharmacy to get my new antidepressants and he had his wallet out in preparation to pay. after that we got a little tipsy together and we had dinner and he fell asleep in front of the tv in his armchair and i on the couch and it was one of the only moments i've ever had where i felt connected to him - i wrote that i didn't need the money (trying to assure him because he always otherwise denies me monetary help or anything similar, he always tells me he is too poor to get me a birthday gift even though he is rich and takes his other daugthers on vacations) and i only wanted the support and love and care of him and my new antidepressants were working nicely. i wrote that i loved him and i thanked him again and sent it. the message i got back was quick and an invitation to dinner on sunday with my sisters and without a "i love you" back. i didn't say anything about it and said yes to the dinner and asked him if he would be home by then and where i was supposed to go and he didn't reply. he keeps giving me mixed messages and before this they were almost always negative and i'm left questioning my value and worth.

i'm stuck trying to love my parents and trying to get them to love me back. it doesn't seem like i can give up. i can't move on because everything else that i've tried is meaningless to me everything small especially from my family triggers me into having episodes of wanting to die. i want to be loved i deserve to be loved by my mom and dad. i want a connection that i suspect they are incapable of giving me but i can't move on because nothing else matters to me. sex, romantic relationships, any accomplishment - everything else leaves me empty and void and carries no meaning to me.

i know i have to leave them both behind if i'm going to survive. but i don't know how. i give up so easily because i've never won any battles no matter how hard i've tried or how i do it and i am losing this war

[clubsmarties]

Off the top of his head he thought of a few. "Husbands who don't love them enough?" Giving a shrug he smiled. "Library one won't be cocktail attire. More comfort casual. Don't take this the wrong way but you look beautiful." He didn't mean it because she had such a dress or because her legs looked killer but he meant her. "That's because you hardly listen to me when I yap." A joke clearly as lived to tease her. "Probably forgot to mention it. The last few weeks cases have taken over our fun banter. Library event is at the library park. Free to people so it's kind of like a book fair but more fun. The charity aspect of it is that big names drop loads of money to fund public libraries and stock classrooms. This is the good side of wealth." Her nose wrinkle held him captivated on how cute she looked and laughed. "No. Not the same people. These are literate and can carry a conversation further than I've got four yachts and eat caviar. He mimicked their voices and gave an eye roll.

"Funnily enough, these parties or more specifically, the yacht parties. He's also retired so time is all he has. People like that marry for money not love. I've never been to one but have heard about them. I worked a case on one of them. Women went missing without a trace. Actually, it's the case I told you about with stilleoutte heel marks on the walls. Still a cold case." He involuntarily winced at one night of fun. The dark, dark side of wealth were people who thought anything and anyone were disposable and there for their taking and amusement. Taking a quick glance at Liz, scanning her features for a brief moment, he didn't say anything just sighed. His features showed a pained look if only it flickered momentarily. "You deserve much more than what they'll even be able to provide." He finally said as his eyes went back to the road. Safety for one and the comfort of being home for another. Smiling he let out a breath through his nose and couldn't help himself. "You barely tolerate me." The makings of a smile showed as his dimple made a quick appearance. "I do actually enjoy your company. Did I thank you for coming yet, princess?" Since she seemed to like it he figured he'd use it.

"I don't want to go anywhere. I mean it." Wally smiled as he gave a quick glance over to her. "All I want from you if you're thinking I want something," his smile grew knowing where her head might go. "Is for you to take the compliment and believe it. You glow maybe even brighter than the stars."

Another little sigh escaped him. "Before it got ran over with these assholes, my mom built it from the ground up. This, believe it or not, was different back when. It meant something. Now I come because mom still wants to let people know her charities are still being ran by the same person with the same heart. I hate this one specifically," it was the night the family fight erupted. "I have to watch out for my father's sisters." He laughed and shook his head, "I wish. That'd be a cooler story. Although you're onto something there. If I do, want to be my partner in crime?"

Curious eyes glanced at her and the water bottle. Momentarily understanding what could have possibly had her look like that. Then it clicked and before he could reach over to take the bottle to drink from it to show her it was safe, she'd taken a sip. Softly smiling at her and silently thanking her for trusting he wasn't the type he dropped his gaze. "Again, you're too good for them. They are trash humans whod fumble someone like you immediately not knowing how to take care of you. Emotionally I mean." There were a lot of truths that had come from his mouth and if Liz was paying attention, he'd basically told her a lot in a few words.

Having his wrist watch up on the wheel he decided to ring his sister. Call the dork brigade. Heading East and I need help. Left or right? I'd say not as bad but might need to soak up a bit of the alcohol so the hangover isn't terrible tomorrow. Uh I don't know might be. Would you just pick one. The one near the pebbled beach? Well, okay. Yes, after I get her food, I'll swing by and bring you guys take out. Yeah, yeah. You're welcome. Thank you. Turning to face Elizabeth again he smiled and let her in on the conversation he had just had with one of his sisters. "Heading to a burger joint called the Halibut. It's greasy and delicious. They serve curly fries and sweet potato ones though those I don't recommend since they're not as good as when they're fresh. Called my sister to have her pick. I'm indecisive and would have taken you to all four places. She asked how bad you are and I said not too bad. Just needed good food to absorb the alcohol. I'm taking them food afterwards so don't let me forget." He smiled softly as he swiftly made a turn while his hand was still on the gear shift. Having just spoken to his sister in French he didn't know if Liz could even understand it but regardless didn't hide what he'd said from her. In a way didn't want her to think he wouldn't still be honest with her. "She picked pebbled beach because it feels like you're walking on jellies."

"What kind of husbands would say no?" Elizabeth laughed at the thought. "That's kinda the point of the dress. Though I wish I wore something else that I could've worn flats in now. this is a legs dress, so heels are needed." That was a lie, she loved dressing up. Missed it. It was just strange being herself and not someone else for once. "Library event?" He had her full attention. "I don't remember you mentioning a library." But then her nose wrinkled. " Will it be the same people?"

Listening intently, she began to commit everything he said to memory. "Princess, I like the sound of that." She didn't really know why, she chalked it up to knowing more about the man who had become a friend now. The way he talked about some of them, especially his aunts was not lost on her, slipping slowly into the old habits she used now in different ways. "Glow?" She laughed. "I'm pretty sure it's the alcohol. And compliments will get you no where, Elias."

Free will. It felt funny to hear from someone like him but she understood the sentiment all the same. His mom sounded....like a mom and a small ache broke inside of her. "Then why do it at all? If they made such a big deal about your sister, why not just stop attending? Stop feeding the beast, so to say." Quirking an eyebrow, hazel eyes filled with a sense of adventure. "Is this where you tell me that you've been a double agent this whole time and ready to overthrow a government somewhere? I knew it. I just knew it. " It was a tease.

Taking the bottle, she thought it over for a moment. Old memories rose telling her to not accept it. To not drink from it. Then she remembered who handed it to her. She didn't know exactly when but she trusted him. Not wholly, not completely, but she did trust that this was just a bottle of water. With a mouth full of water, she choked back the water as she laughed. "Well, they would be sorely disappointed. They're not my thing." Orion had been an exception the moment he entered her life. "Even if they wanted me as a wife they would be disappointed all around with all the things I can't provide." That and probably a lot poorer by the time she left them.

"Boo, no class. I should've known by now that money doesn't buy class but it's always a surprise when it comes up." Eyebrow quirked. "Fourth? How does he find the time?" But she knew all too well how they all did, had been the one in the floppy hat plenty of times. "Well," she secured her seat belt. " I feel offended. Did you think I found that" thumb pointed out the window. "Attractive? And what does it matter if I did? It would just be one night of fun anyway. I can barely stomach anyone more than that. But you did call me princess, so how little you think of me forgiven."

There was a flip in her stomach at the sight of him, tie loosened and buttons undone. One hand on the gear. God, she had drunk more than she should've. Clearing her throat, she turned her attention out of her window. "So where are we going anyway?" The topic of food was a safe one.

[countrymusiclover]

8. Escape Tactics

Part 9

Texas Romance

@tyrionsprincess30

Things were changing. Sheldon was off to college. Georgie and I were almost done with high school and Missy was finally heading to middle school. Although tonight was another date with Georgie for me. Sheldon and his dad has to eat dinner with a fancy guy. I plopped down on the couch beside a mopey Missy. Resting a hand on her left shoulder I ask her, not used to seeing her like this. "Mis. What's wrong?"

She just mumbled something I can't hear before Georgie sits down turning on the tv to watch the game before noticing our actions. He glanced to me questioning. "What's wrong?" Missy finally speaks real words as I pull her to sit up. "Mom. Won't let me go to the dance." I frowned remembering how much fun dances are at her age. Their mom had rules about what they could and couldn't do. It wasn't my place to judge.

Georgie looks at me before tilting his head to his room and getting to his feet stating. "Come with me." I pull Missy up with me heading to his room he pulls out a box with a tape that reads 'Footloose' giving it to her. They watched the tape but it didn't help making her mad with her mom. Georgie was having us take fun quizzes from a magazine as he lays back on his pillow with me laying on my back my feet by his arm, but he doesn't care as he smirks down to me as I read off the next question.

"What is your favorite food?" He answered "ta - tourtots." I snorted as he chuckled before his mom burst open his door making me nearly flinch and roll into the floor but he hooks his arm around my waist helping me stay on his bed. "Did you show your sister Footloose?" Georgie asks her clearly giving her the answer. "Did it work?"

His mom scolded. "No." Georgie picked the magazine we were working on back in his hands, replying. "Then no."

His mom growled. "Oh!" before slamming the door making me sit up glaring.

He shrugs. "What y/n?" I cross my arms over my chest, an angry look on my face. "I still can't believe you wonder why you get grounded." He shakes his head smiling at me.

Georgie's POV

Y/n was getting ready for our date tonight which was really us just going out to Dairy Queen and looking at the stars. The garage door opens and my mom walks in as I'm lifting weights. She said "So how's pizza sound for dinner?"

I sat the weights down looking at her slightly annoyed. "You think I'm eating dinner with my mom on a Saturday night. You're adorable...y/n and I are going out." I paused glancing at my mom. "What about Missy?"

"She's not talking to me." I rolled my eyes picking up the weights again. "You know she'd talk to you if you'd just let her go."

My mom rolled her eyes. "You know I can't do that." My phone started ringing meaning y/n was trying to reach me, but I don't pick it up immediately.

"Come on I went to school dances all the time and I turned out fine." Finally I sat down the weights again fully facing her.

"I didn't let you go to any dances." She inquired about me. Tilting my head I admit to her something that she won't like or that y/n wouldn't like but it happened anyway. "I did all kinds of stuff behind your back."

She puts her hands on her hips, sniping. "Like what?"

I picked up my phone to see Y/n's texts asking to meet me at her house at 6. I'd gotten enough money to buy a phone that I could text her with since we got our jobs back.

"I'm dumb. But I'm not that dumb." I snorted to her as she huffed. "So I'm just supposed to go and let her do whatever she wants!"

Tilting my head up to her I shrugged my shoulders. "Just be happy she's still asking.." I paused throwing on my jean jacket heading to get memaw's car but her voice makes me stop.

"Y/n dosen't think you're dumb, she makes you better. I - I just don't want Missy to start doing things that aren't good." I nod my head at her saying as I twirl my keys around my fingers. "I'll be back at 8. Talk to her."

Y/n's POV

Putting on my tenna shoes and looking myself over in the mirror I take a breath. It wasn't our first date but it felt like it was - we were going to Dairy Queen without the rest of his family.  My mom cracked open my door making me turn my head hair falling over my shoulder. "He's here."

Nodding my head we walk to the living room to see Georgie and my dad talking about trucks before he sees me. Georgie's mouth hung open a bit as he stuttered. "Wow.."

I blush lightly before he walks to me, taking my hands in his. My eyes look to see him in a light blue flannel, dark blue jeans and dark brown boots. "Hi. You ready to go?"

We both laughed realizing we both said it at the same time. A camera flash broke us from our moment to see my mom holding a polord picture out to my dad who shook his head playfully as Georgie and I both blush before he loops his arm through mine out to the car. He opens my door for me and I smile at him before he gets in the driver's seat. Thankfully he now had his learner's permit so we wouldn't get in trouble for taking a car.

Finally at the restaurant we got two Chillie Cheese dogs and a thing of Cheese Curds, sitting across from each other. After taking a bit from my dog I noticed him being quite I ask. "What's wrong?"

He stiffened at my question. "I admitted to my mom I snuck out a lot....Missy doing the same." He showed me a note she must've gave him earlier.

I take his freehand in mine. "No she won't. You only did those things because you're jealous of Sheldon...but now you have me."

He nods before my phone goes off, picking it up I see a unknown number so I answer it to hear Missy cheerfully. "Y/n! She's letting me go to the dance!"

I pulled the phone away from my ear as she squeals loudly looking to Georgie who playfully shakes his head at his sister's excitement. Resting in up to my ear again I reply. "That's great Mis. Have fun and enjoy it."

"Thanks. Oh and have fun on your date, don't get it on with my brother." She makes a kissing sound over the phone before I blushed when Georgie reaches over to start twirling loose strands of my hair in between his fingertips, gazing directly in my eyes.

"O - okay. Mis - bye." I hung up the phone before he flirts. "Why is it that my sis always jokes about us." I didn't respond because I don't have an answer. "Even though you drive me crazy."

Resting my hand on his he stops messing with my hair I say. "Maybe it's because she knew we'd be good together, before we did." A smile plastered on my lips before I lean across the table and kiss him.

He kisses me back deeply while his freehand runs through my hair before we broke for air, he voiced. "I think she did too, my darlin."

He perks my lips as I grinned back at my boyfriend. "You calling me that will never get old, my texan." He grins back at me softly.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Another idea for nightnurse!reader is Jason finds her brother (assuming you didn’t plan that to be a lie) and plans to scare him into leaving reader alone, but brother in such bad shape Jason gets him help instead

Jason's first memories were smells. Old garbage. Piss. Asphalt. Ancient beer dribbled out of crushed cans onto carpet. And cinnamon. From the candles his mother lit trying to make anything smell nice.

And every time he stalked the alleyways of Gotham, it was both bittersweet and home. Feelings he tried to shove out of the way. To keep in the disorganized corner of his mind where he kept things he didn't want to examine. Usually, it worked.

But not tonight.

As he stalked the streets, he turned a puzzle over in his mind. Discordant pieces. Things that looked like they fit and didn't. He was a detective. It came second nature. But looking at them- he realized how much he didn't know.

About you.

He knew you were no stranger to violence. Or drugs. Or pain. He knew you were cool under pressure. Caring. Compassionate. But- how had you gotten there?

There was a father listed on your birth certificate but that had been a dead end. The man had been dead for 10 years in a car accident. And your mother was alive but in jail, spending most of her time in solitary. So that left the brother. The one that cracked you in the face. The one that didn't, as far as Jason knew, know where you lived.

All his intel said he usually slept around here- in the illegal loft housing near the docks. So he should be here. Somewhere. His eyes narrowed and he scanned the dark places, looking for a heat signature.

If it hadn't been for the giggles of a couple working girls, he might have never found him. Filthy and taking a syringe from one of them, Jason cringed. "Alex!"

His bark sent the girls running and he let them go, watching as the kid swore and screamed after them. "God fucking damn it!" he growled pounding his fist against the brick of the building he was leaning on, "You got a fucking problem, man?"

"You Y/n's brother?" Jason asked, stepping out of the shadows, folding his arms.

"What of it," he said, holding his hands up when he realized the Red Hood was staring at him.

"You like smacking her around?" Jason challenged, teeth clenched, "You like-"

"She wouldn't give me any money," Alex snapped. "Told me she'd give me something to eat. Put me up in a motel for the night but the fucking cunt-"

Crack.

Before Alex could finish his tirade, Jason grabbed him by the front of his reeking sweater and shoved him against the wall, letting his head hit the brick. "You have two choices," Jason said, his voice dangerously soft, "You come with me and check yourself in for 60 days OR I take you to the GCPD and let them sort you out- either way. You ever put hands on your sister again and I'll snap your neck."

"What the fuck man," he whined, "All I wanted was money. She has-"

"Two. Choices." Jason ground out.

"The fuck?" The kid growled. "Take me to jail. I ain't sitting in a circle talking about shit man. The fuck does it matter-" He broke off and glared at Jason, "You fucking her or something?" he scoffed. "What's she owe you?"

"Jail it is," Jason said levelly, Dropping Alex and letting him fall in a heap on the ground.

"What fucking for?" he snorted.

"Solicitation, possession, battery, being a pain in the fucking ass-"

"Better than 60 days listening to people cry about their mommy issues," he said.

"Alex-"

"Fuck you man," he spat, "Just because you're fucking my sister doesn't mean you know shit. She owes me. It's her fucking fault."

"That you're living on the street and smell like piss?"

"It's all her fault," he said scowling. "Miss fucking perfect."

Jason frowned and typed out a message to Oracle. "Yeah. It's totally Y/N's fault. What, did she do better on the spelling tests or something? Get a little jealous, did we?"

"Ask her what she did," he growled. "Ask her why our mom is in jail."

[needsmorewlw]

Okay, I am intrigued based on your post and I have to know - what are your single saddest headcanons for Kaitlyn, Dylan and Ryan? -Drylan blog runner

I'm so glad you asked. Hoooo ok buckle up because some of these are doozies.

There's also a lot of parent stuff in here. So if you got mommy/daddy issues, be warned before continuing x

Kaitlyn

Now we know literally nothing about Kaitlyn other than the fact that her and Jacob have been friends since they were kids, so she's basically a blank canvas ready to be covered in sad, sad paint.

But what else do we know about our beautiful Kaitlyn? She's tough and super independent. You know what kind of kids are that independent at a young age? Kids who were forced to be.

Her parents had super high expectations of her growing up but were never around to support her when she needed it. They did everything shy of outright neglecting her. She adapted and got so good at passing off as this perfect, responsible, independent daughter that her parents never bothered trying to support her, in fact they just added more expectations onto her. She'd get the "we're so disappointed in you" speech if she faltered for one day but would never get congratulated for succeeding over and over. I think she also has younger siblings who can do no wrong in their parents eyes. She loves them but also can't help but resent them a little bit for getting the childhood she was denied. Some days she feels more like their nanny than their older sister.

She got older and her parents would act all smug to their friends and co workers like they'd raised the perfect daughter when in reality, she raised herself. The kicker is that she so desperately yearns for their approval. No matter how angry she gets at them, she still craves their validation.

She's SEVERELY TOUCH STARVED BECAUSE HER PARENTS NEVER HUGGED HER. On bad days, if she sees a parent hugging their child, she'll go kick something and cry. A teacher said he was proud of her on her last day before graduation and she very nearly wept. And she'll never admit it but it's one of the reasons she's held on so tight to Jacob all these years because he's the one person who's always been there.

She's tough because she had to be, not because she wanted to be.

Dylan

Oh Dylan...

Sweet...sweet blorbo.

How do I pick just one of my many hcs?

Let's stick with the parent theme. So Dylan's general vibe gives me two certainties about his home life.

1: parents are absolutely divorced.

2: only child (at first)

With all of Dylan's issues, coping and defense mechanisms, there's simply no way he has a healthy relationship with his parents. At best it would be an aloof one.

Dylan has all the insecurities and social awkwardness of an only child whose emotional needs were neglected during his formative years. I think his parents had him when they were young and got married instead of having an abortion, which they then made Dylan's problem until they eventually got divorced and his dad moved away when Dylan was in middle school.

They are the sole reason for his lack of self esteem and fear of rejection by making him feel like he needed to be grateful for existing.

Present day, Dylan's dad is remarried with what Dylan spitefully refers to as his "do-over family" at Thanksgiving dinners. He married a woman who's like four years older than Dylan and they have two twin toddlers. In her defense, she's lovely. His dad on the other hand, Dylan has no relationship with. Dylan broke down one day and pointed out how he's a completely different man now who actually cares about his new sons. So now his dad mainly just gives him money and pays for things for him in an attempt at making up for it that doesn't take any real effort. Dylan figures it's better than nothing. He looks after his half brothers sometimes if his step-mom asks. He tries really hard not to take his resentment out on them and channels it all towards his dad. The only time you'll see Dylan truly angry is if he's interacting with his dad.

His relationship with his mom is complicated. She's invested in him and proud of all of his academic achievements but she's proud of a version of Dylan she made up in her head. She doesnt actually know anything about him. I think she has some narcissistic tendencies and did a total 180 after the divorce, acting like she's always been a perfect supportive mother and denies any attempt Dylan makes at holding her accountable. So he just gave up. She loves him and that's what's important but he also once overheard her tell one of her friends that he "just hasn't met the right girl yet."

Ryan

My babygirl...

We actually do have some details about Ryan that could go any which way. The "Mom isn't exactly around" line is stuck to my brain like a barnacle. Because what does that mean? There's so many options. And there's absolutely no mention of another parent but considering his attachment towards Chris, we can assume they're not around anymore, for whatever reason.

Ryan was diagnosed with autism when he was a kid but never got any help with it. His mom tried her best but Ryan's other parent either died before they could be helpful or left because they decided raising an autistic child was too much effort. Ryan's struggled to make friends his whole life because he was never taught any coping mechanisms that would have really helped him out. He had to learn them on his own. He started going to camp at the end of elementary/beginning of middle school to try and make connections with kids his own age rather than only befriending much younger kids and adults. He ended up bonding with the reclusive werewolf siblings.

Ryan's general aloofness and monotony lead to him saying pretty upsetting things in a either a blunt or vague way. For this sad headcanon, "Mom isn't exactly around." Because she's sick. Maybe terminally ill or maybe she had a serious accident and now she's bed ridden or brain dead. Either way, she's in the hospital for good.

I think it happened recently, which is why Ryan's asking Chris for advice at camp. Chris definitely knew the full story so Ryan didn't have to elaborate. Ryan had his plan all sorted out. He was going to animation school and then suddenly his life came crashing down around him and he had to make immediate adjustments. He seriously considered not going to college because he didn't want to just leave his sister, but also the town where his mom is in hospital. Chris gives him the myopic "family is important spiel" which just makes him more conflicted (I know Chris meant well but that was awful advice). He came to camp to get his mind off of everything stressful at home. How well that turned out.

Ryan's desperately trying to make connections but also feels like he can't make choices for himself anymore. It also plays a major part in why he seems so distant concerning Kaitlyn and Dylan because yeah, the thought of having someone to be with sounds nice but he doesn't wanna drag someone he cares about into his sad messy life when he doesn't even know what he's doing.

[beepinout]

ENCANTO HEADCANONS Part 3

-You know those mall Santa's that have kids say "I wish my parents don't get a divorce" or "i wish my sister doesn't die of cancer" or "i wish I dont die of cancer" or "I wish that someone dead in my life comes back to life"...yeah Bruno has to deal with that time to time and he feels TERRIBLE every time

-(in her own way) Julieta used to be a bad ass, she used to refuse to give people her food if they hurt her family or her

Someone: Julieta I need help

Julieta: Oh ok... wait, I remember you, you cheated on Pepa the other day!

Someone: So?! It's your job to help me, would you just do your fucking work already

Julieta:...Oh right, of course of course, let me make you something fresh right now(never returns)

- Abuela had to set her straight after complaints

- Dolores had the most embarrassing gift ceremony (I mean I know what happened to Mirabel but that was more sad than embarrassing)

- Her gift ceremony started as normal, then she got her gift and she could not stop crying, the party had to end early

- When Dolores first got her gift she just stayed in her room all the time, Felix and Pepa had to gradually let Dolores out of her room for a curtain amout of time

Felix: Come on Dolores, can you come out for five minutes, we'll count

Dolores:...

Pepa: We'll stay with you the entire time mi amor

Dolores:*Dashes out of her room and hugs her parents and doesn't let go for the exact 5 muinute*

- Every gift door picture was taken the day after the ceremony except Dolores whose was taken a few week after because she needed time to adjust

- When people heard that Pepa was pregnant they got sooooooo much weather equipment, the umbrella bissnes was booming

- Bruno as an uncle is like a more concerned and anxious grunkle stan

Camilo: Hey tio Bruno, can you help us with this potentially dangerous thing?

Bruno: I dont know, your mom would be upset and you know how she-Just kidding lets go!

-(he will try to end whatever there doing early if it gets serious)

- Isabela is very clumsy and is extremely embarrassed about it

- People pay Dolores not to tell others about something they did, she wasn't going to tell but she'll gladly take there money

- Dolores is very close to Bruno, before, during, and after he lived in the walls.Before she'd go to him about her gift since like him it was unwanted and she hated it, during she would beg Bruno to come back, mostly when she 12 but would occasionally ask him to come back when she was older too, also for 10 years she had amazing telanovelas, after she would just go to him to talk about things she heard through out the town because he can keep a secret and she would also help him with telanovelas

- When Bruno did his telanovelas in the wall Dolores would write reviews for them on paper and stick them on the inside of the walls

- Abuela was a menace when she was young, and that why her kids are too

- Abuela's mom was strict with her so Abuela vowed to not be that strict when she had kids and said all the ways she would be beter then her mom (unfortunately she didn't account for having to leave her home with nothing but the clothes on her back, watching her husband die, having to take care of a village and her 3 kids all at the age of like 20...so that backfired)

- Bruno had 1 girlfriend his whole life in his early teens and guess who it was.....FISH LADY, they where in puppy love city and everyone in a 10 mile radius was annoyed by them, she broke up with him the day her fish died

Young fish lady infront of a crowd of people holding a fish tank of water: YOU CURSED THEM ON PURPOSE DIDN'T YOU!

Young Bruno: All I said was those types of fish don't last long

Young fish lady: You didn't need to say anything, everyone knows whatever you speak out of your STUPID MOUTH ends up being true no matter what

Young Bruno: IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU CAN'T TAKE CARE OF ANYTHING

Young fish lady:*Dumps the entire fish tank on Bruno's head* THATS IT! WE ARE DONE MADRIGAL!

- To this day Bruno still cringes at that moment

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[msraven929]

==== TOG Ficlet featuring Nile, Joe and Nicky ====

Nile had been doing okay. She figured out early on that Andy was keeping them busy with training and jobs in an attempt to take Nile's mind off her sadness. This morning, however, she'd woken to the crystal clear realization that it was her brother's birthday. Now she was sitting out in the cold morning mist with an ache in her chest that wouldn't go away.

She heard a small noise behind her, a purposeful drag of feet that were normally silent. In the next instant, Nile was surrounded by warmth as a heavy jacket was draped around her shoulders. The act felt like Nicky, but the jacket smelled like Joe, so she was not surprised when she looked up to see them both. Joe silently handed Nile a cup of coffee before they took seats on either side of her.

They didn't speak as they each drank their coffee, the two men content to be a silent comfort, if possible. Joe and Nicky always seemed to know when Nile needed a laugh or a kind word or a shoulder to lean on. They never coddled her or treated her like a child. They challenged her to be better and faster as she fought, but never pushed harder than she was capable of. Nile realized that she already loved them and it helped ease the ache in her heart.

"Today is my brother's birthday," Nile said softly.

"Ah," Joe breathed, more of a sigh than a word. "Our hearts always remember the special days. The calendars have changed, but I still know my sister's birthday is in three weeks."

"The twenty-third," Nicky added.

Nile's gaze bounced back and forth between the two men before it settled on Joe.

"You have… had a sister?" Nile asked. "Andy said Booker was the only one with family."

"Booker was the only one who ever tried to stay with his family," Nicky clarified. "I had no family to return to, but Joe's sister was luckily far enough away not to be caught up in the fighting."

Nile looked back at Nicky and heard Joe stand.

"I think we need more coffee," he said and headed back inside. Joe returned with the carafe, refilled their cups, and sat back down next to Nicky.

"My sister was many years younger than I and I doted on her as we grew," Joe explained. "But it was not easy or fast to travel back then. By the time Nicky and I came to terms with our immortality and made peace with each other, my sister's children already had children of their own."

"But you did go back?" Nile pressed.

"Yes," Joe nodded and then turned to Nicky with a smile. "It weighed on me, not knowing her fate and Nicky convinced me to go back even if I could not risk showing myself as who I really was."

"What happened?"

"She was happy, but poor, and I learned that she still spoke fondly of me, her grief heavy for the brother she lost. We resolved to give her some money to ease her later years and possibly ease some of her grief as well."

"How?" Nile asked. "You couldn't go see her."

"I could not, but I could send my heart in my place," Joe responded.

Nicky rolled his eyes fondly at Joe's words. "I disguised myself as the son of a soldier saved by Joe. I was able to speak of how Joe had fought fiercely and tell her he didn't suffer when he died. I told her that his last thoughts had been for her and that he'd implored my father to send some of the treasure he'd earned in battle. I like to believe her heart was lighter when she embraced me in thanks."

"You gave her closure," Nile whispered, mostly to herself.

She thought about the letter Copley sent, which told her family a fake story about how Nile had been part of a secret mission that resulted in her death. It made her a hero instead of a deserter, but the letter would have been cold and impersonal. Then Nile imagined Joe telling them about her bravery with a voice imbued with warmth and feeling, Joe giving her brother soft words of encouragement, and Joe enveloping her mom in one of his amazing hugs.

"Could… Would you do the same for me?" Nile asked as her eyes met Joe's.

Joe's eyes widened in surprise and then he smiled and nodded. "It would be an honor."

Nile smiled back and the last of the ache in her chest released. She never needed to stop loving her first family and her new family would always support that love.

The sun broke through the grey mist and Nile's heart was content.

[6knotty6thotty6]

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck: 

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion. 

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered,  was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it. 

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it." 

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got. 

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it. 

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat. 

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes. 

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not. 

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled. 

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway. 

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you? 

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late! 

[igotyouniverse]

Breathe Me - Chapter 1 [nct vamp au]

Description: After dropping out of college and coming home for the first time in two years, 22-year-old Ava Lee gets caught up in a mystery surrounding the people she thought she knew for so long. Between friendship, affairs and true love the young women finds herself being pulled into a  nightmare she would never wake up from.

Pairing: Oc x Taeyong , Oc x Johnny [several side-pairing involving Mark, Ten, Lucas and Jaehyun.]

Included Members: Taeyong, Johnny, Mark, Lucas, Ten, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Haechan (maybe more)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, Action, Fantasy

Warnings: none (this chapter)

suggestive content, strong language, violence, blood, death. probably more, not sure yet (later chapters)

a/n: Here it comes! After years of procrestination I finally managed to write the very first (very boring) chapter of my vampire au with nct! Anyway, the main drama will start in the next chapter so stay patient and bear this one with me. It took me long enough, haha. All the warnings will be for later chapters so don't start reading if u dont feel like reading stuff like that qq If someone wants to get tagged please send me a message, ask, comment or whatever qq

I really hope you guys enjoy it, it was a very heavy birth. ♥

ch.2 || ch. 3

                                                   †

The girl sighed deeply and took a look outside the small airplane window. She saw how the plane slowly drove into the prepared parking lot and felt how her level of anxiety rose with each second. Even though the flight was 18 hours long and her legs started to hurt she didn't want to stand up. Standing up meant for her to actually leave the plane, get her luggage and meet her family which would sooner or later lead to them asking all these questions. It wasn't like she didn't miss them.

She missed them very dearly. She missed the Sunday morning brunches with her neighbours, the movie nights where her dad would always pick out a movie because he'd pout if not, she even missed  her little brother Mark bursting into her room without knocking and asking her some totally stupid questions. She missed catching up with her best friend. She missed all these sleepovers when all they had to worry about was who the cutest boy at school was and what they'll do together once they were adults. She craved for all these past memories. The last time she set foot onto this ground was two years ago at her very first spring break after leaving home, moving to a town thousand of miles away, not knowing anyone.

She heard a beeping noise which indicated that the passengers could stand up and get out but she waited. All of them seemed in such a hurry to leave the plane, grabbing their belongings, everyone trying to get out first which ended in a crowded queue inside of the plane. She stretched her legs as much as possible, not making the slightest move to stand up.

Her eyes wandered back to the window, allowing her to take a glance at the sky, she wished to be into again. It was still quite bright outside, even though it was nearly evening, the sun nearly blinding her when she looked up, leading her to cover her eyes with her hand. The sunsets were so different in the States than here, in South Korea. Her eyes tried to focus on the slowly fading sun, leaving the sky in beautiful pinks and oranges with just a hint of soft white clouds.

Her mind started to spin, thinking about all the things she had to explain to her family sooner or later. But for now she needed to stay positive and hide the fact that she – the oh-so-perfect – student managed to drop out of a university, her parents nearly went insolvent to pay for to allow their daughter to get the best medical education they could think of. At the beginning the girl actually thought that it was her biggest dream to become a famous surgeon but after a short while she had to face the ugly truth that the job she so desperately wanted to do as long as she could remember just wasn't her thing.

She tried so badly to keep on and thought that it's just a phase every young adult went through when they started university but every time she talked to her friends at university she saw that that wasn't exactly the case. Everyone was so focused and motivated to become a successful doctor or surgeon they underwent the torture of endless sleepless nights, insane pressure and the feeling of not being able to even cut an onion correctly, which the professor didn't even care to make better. Every day she got told that she would never be able to work in the medical field and could try herself with some more basic and easy studies. It didn't matter how hard she tried to remember all the lectures and do her assignments – she failed miserably at everything.

Of course, her family didn't know. She was way too afraid to burst the bubble her parents created around her, leaving her in that perfect, white spotlight, portraying her like some sort of angel on a pedestal for everyone to see. They loved to talk about her in front of everyone, telling them that she'd be a successful surgeon, working hard and publishing groundbreaking articles, making herself a name in the medical community. Maybe even getting some famous award. Everyone in that small town knew about the smart daughter who got into one of the best medical universities in the United States, who worked so hard she was barely home.

She couldn't bear to see the disappointment on their faces once they see what she really was – a failure. She managed to hide her dropping out of university so well, she created her web of lies carefully over the last year, she sometimes even believed what she was saying. But as soon as her alarm clock went off, remembering her to go to work at a small corner café to pay her rent and even save some money in case her parents might throw her out, she had to face real life again. The life in which she dropped out only one year after starting, loosing hundreds of thousands of dollars and leaving the incident in her resume forever.

She was glad she got a job in the café as it belonged to the parents of one friend she met at college, who managed to get in because of a scholarship. They allowed her to work as much as she could to save money and even helped her sometimes.

“Excuse me, Miss?”, a soft and gentle voice made the girl leave her deep thoughts and look up. A beautiful, young flight attendant smiled down at her. “You need to leave the plane, please.”, she said in sweet yet demanding voice  and got her luggage out of the cabinet above for her. The girl didn't realise that the plane was already as good as empty. She thanked the attendant, grabbed her bag and went out of the plane into the airport, feeling her legs shaking more with each step she took.

She pulled out her smartphone, turning off flight mode only to get bombarded with dozens of messages, mostly from her mom asking if she already landed and that they waited for her at the gate. After that she only texted emojis. Hearts, heart-eyes and some other stuff which made her feel even more anxious. How could she disappoint a mother as proud as her? No, she needed to keep her secret for a bit longer. Maybe until her brother messed up. But what could he possibly mess up which would overshadow her dropping out of college? Maybe if he committed a crime.

Mark was different from her, She didn't know how but he actually managed to tell their parents that he doesn't want to become a doctor or lawyer, and instead insisted of becoming an author or journalist. To say her parents were unhappy would be an understatement. They were more than angry and told him to pay the tuition himself. They believed it was just a small teenage dream he had but when he finished High School and started working at the local bookstore to save some money to actually study creative writing they realized that he was serious. That small incident happened just 14 months ago, yet he continued to work there and save up. He even managed to visit her every couple of months, as she didn't want to come.

When she arrived at the luggage claim the suitcases were already out on the baggage belt and she waited as long as she could, watching her lonely suitcase making its turns on the device, purposely ignoring it until it was the only one left and she had to grab it. Her phone vibrated in her pocket again.

Mark [06.07pm]: Where r u?

She rolled her eyes and just put it back in the pocket of her jeans as she headed towards the exit. The girl took a deep breath, putting on the brightest smile she could manage and stepped out of the doors. Her family wasn't hard to notice. Her parents held a way too big and bright  banner in their hands

WELCOME HOME AVA

Ava tried to keep her smile up and waved at them. “Oh, honey welcome home!”, her mother shouted as she lowered the banner to hug her daughter tightly. “I'm so happy you're finally home again, our doctor!.”, she said and patted her back softly. She felt her dad joining the hug and giving her a warm smile as well, joining her mother in telling her how happy he was to have her back home. Ava clenched her jaw, trying to smile as honest as possible.

“You're really squishing me to death guys.”, Ava chuckled and was glad when her parents finally let go of her. She looked up and saw her brother Mark smiling at her.

“Come on, give your favourite sister a hug.”, the girl laughed, making her brother chuckle before embracing her in a loving hug as well. The last time she saw him he visited the campus a few months ago. Of course he didn't know she dropped out then and nearly choked on his water when she told him. She knew he wouldn't tell their parents but he thought it would be better if she told their parents as soon as possible, which she didn't of course.

“Happy to have you back.”, Mark said and squeezed his sister one more time before he let her go and took her suitcase.

Ava stretched her body slowly before getting into their car, really not wanting to sit down for another hour but apparently she had to. As soon as she sat down and put on her seat belt her mother turned around to look at her and smiled.

“Tell us, honey, how is Stanford? Is it going well, yes?”, she asked and Ava felt like she needed to throw up.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I handed in all assignments last week and I have a good feeling.”, she chuckled and felt guilt crawling all over her body. She smiled slightly and turned her eyes away to avoid her mother proud gaze, yet she could feel Mark eyeing her.

“Ah, that's so great, honey. Your father and I just talked to the Lee's from across the street and they told us their son wants to apply to Stanford, too. We told them you could talk to him and give some advice.”

“Sure.”, she just sighed and pulled out her phone again, hoping her mother would understand her silent plead to leave her be. Her mother smiled again and turned back to talk to her father about what she'd make for dinner on this special occasion.

Ava checked the other texts she got, scrolling through them. She smiled when she saw a text from her best friend, sending her a picture from her in her nurse uniform. She looked so cute, proudly standing in front of the mirror in the dressing room, posing with a finger heart.

[Ava 06.54pm] Cute! Just landed, on my way home. Wanna hang out later?

[Yunmi 06.57pm] Can't. Night shift today but pick me up tomorrow morning and get breakfast? The café next to the bookstore finally opened!

[Ava 07.00pm] absolutely! Can't wait. Miss you so much ♥

She scrolled through the remaining texts just to feel a little disappointment in her body after not seeing what she so desperately wanted to see. But then again, she didn't expect to see a text from him after he ignored each and everyone of hers the last two years. He didn't even care enough to wish her a happy birthday in November so he probably couldn't care less texting her when she came home.

She sighed lightly and looked outside the car window, seeing how the landscape came and go in front of her eyes and how the sky got all these beautiful colours in it, she could even see the moon already. A wave of tiredness crashed over her exhausted body as she decided to close her eyes for just  a moment.

The girl felt someone poking her arm multiple times, calling her name.

“Wake up, we're home.”, she heard Mark say and groaned, before rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, I'm awake, you can stop poking me.”, she said when her brother continued to poke her arm with a grin on his face.

“Don't make me hit you.”, she warned and slapped his hand away.

“Pff, please.” he answered mockingly and jumped out of the car before her fist could reached his body.

Ava chuckled , getting out of the car stretching her stiff body slowly, hearing all her joints crack at once.

“How old are you? 80?” Mark said teasingly, getting out her suitcase from the trunk.

“Trust me, I feel like it.”, she yawned loudly and slowly got up the stairs to their house.

She inhaled the sweet and calming scent of her mothers vanilla candles as soon as she set foot into the house, taking of her shoes before she walked further inside. It hasn't changed a bit. The beige coloured walls still had pictures of the family on them. Ava smiled and looked at the picture of her and her family from her Highschool graduation three years ago. She smiled when she saw the exact picture her parents had chosen. Mark and her making some weird pose while her parents rolled their eyes.

“Honey, dinner will be ready in half-an-hour, okay?” she didn't realize that her mother was standing right next to her and flinched a bit.

“Yeah, sure, thank you, mom. I'll start to unpack then. Love you.”, Ava said, kissing her mothers cheek softly before going up the stairs into her old room where Mark already put her suitcase and bag.

Her room hasn't changed either. Of course, it looked a bit colder as she took all her personal stuff with her to the US when she moved out, but it still felt comfy with it's cozy beige sofa and her queen sized bed, which her mother already prepared for her. She closed the door behind her and looked outside the big windows, which connected to a small balcony, which was only hers. She remembered how mad Mark was when she got the room with the balcony and not him and grinned. She stepped outside for a moment to breathe in the still warm air, listening to the rustling sound of the trees as a mild breeze blew through them.

The small wooden bench she made herself with her dad back when she was younger still stood in the very same corner and even had pillows on it and a blanket, indicating that someone still used it even while she was gone. Probably her mother when she wanted to have some time and space for herself, she thought and smiled before going back into her room.

She stretched her stiff body once again before squatting down and opening her black suitcase to unpack her things. Ava only brought some clothes and other necessities with her as she didn't believe of staying home for a longer period of time. She rented her tiny apartment, or as she preferred to call it, her shoebox to a friend from university who looked for her own place as long as she stayed with her parents so she didn't need to worry about paying rent. So she just packed her essentials and hoped to keep her pretty little lie for some more months to figure out what she actually wanted to do with her situation now. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to stay in Stanford . She just knew, she didn't want to stay here in this tiny town where everyone knows everyone.

She loved the size of New York, she loved the vibes, the people and even the stink it had. It was charming in some kind of way and she enjoyed the anonymity she had. She liked living in the famous city which never sleeps but it didn't feel like a complete home to her yet and maybe never would. Not to mention, that she was just working in a café which was barely enough to live so she needed to get something more permanent very soon. But she had no idea what that could be. Maybe she'd apply to another university, maybe she didn't want to go to college at all. But what were her options anyway?

Ava groaned, throwing a stack of clothes into her closet in frustration, before squatting down again to fold them neatly. She felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her jeans and sighed when she saw the name of the person who messaged her blinking in front of her. She opened it and thought about her answer for several minutes before she decided to ignore it for the moment and maybe get back to it later, unsure about her wanting to meet the sender or not.

She furrowed her eyes as she looked at the clock hanging at one of her walls, showing that it was way later than she expected and her mother still hadn't called for dinner yet. She put the last of her belongings in the connected bathroom she shared with her brother and checked her phone to make sure she didn't receive a text from him telling her dinner is ready. Ava didn't realize how hungry she was until she thought about the dishes her mother was probably busy making and her mouth started to water. She really missed good Korean food. There were quite some Korean restaurants in New York but of course nothing tasted as good as her mother's home cooked meals.

Just as she wanted to open her door and check downstairs she heard her mother shout from the kitchen that dinner was finally ready. She opened her door and could already smell the kimchi and meat her mother apparently made and couldn't wait to finally taste it.

“Coming! I'm getting Mark”, Ava shouted back and wanted to knock on Marks door, telling him to come down but the boy who opened the door wasn't her brother.

“Oh, hey Ava. Haven't seen you in forever. How are you?”, Johnny asked, seemingly surprised but a small smile appeared on his pretty face.

He hasn't changed a tiny bit. He still looked as gorgeous as three years ago when she left and never heard of him again. His hair was still black but a tad longer than before. It framed the contours of his face just perfectly which made it hard for her to look away and think about how she was mad at him for ignoring her for the past years, even though the last thing she remembered with him was actually something very nice. Or that's at least what she thought it was. Apparently he thought differently and had to treat her like air. Not even daring to step a foot in their house when she came home for spring break once.

“Umm, fine. Are you staying for dinner?”, she asked, trying to sound as calm as possible but she couldn't hide a tint of anger in her voice, yet the anger mixed up with other feelings she was way too bad at hiding.

“Yeah, I invited him. He basically lives here anyway.”, she heard Mark say behind Johnny who didn't seem to sense her displeasure over his invitation. Why do they have to be best friends? She asked herself and secretly hoped for Johnny to disappear or something. But of course that wouldnÄt happen.

“Please, the food gets cold, come down.”, she heard her mother saying from the foot of the stairs with her hands stemmed in her hips, still wearing her red-dotted apron.

“Actually, I'm not hungry.”, Ava said taking a step away from Johnny as his simple presence made her legs feel stupidly weak.

Her statement got quite unbelievable when her stomach started to growl from the heavenly scent of her mother's food.

“Doesn't sound like it.”, Mark said and raised his brow looking at his sister questionably.

“I'm really not hungry and I'm meeting a friend. Can we postpone our family dinner to another time?”, she said while purposely emphasising the term family to show her displeasure about the clearly unwanted guest guest.

Before her mother could answer something Ava ran down the stairs, giving her mother another short kiss before running outside, leaving her house behind.

She took a deep breath before letting out some vulgar curses towards the situation and especially the person causing her to still feel all these things.

Ava pulled out her phone and messaged the only person she could think of, who might get her thoughts somewhere else, even if she might regret it in the morning.

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