In your high school and college years, you are going to find someone and you’ll fall in love, deeper than you ever imagined. You are going to feel something you have never felt before and you’ll swear it’s meant to be. But it will end. The heartbreak that you always read about and saw in the movies will become reality. And I am telling you that it will be okay. It’s not the end of the world. You will find someone that loves you for who you are. Yes it will be really hard, but I will leave you with one word.. Patience. Be patient and know that no matter what happens, it will be okay.
my patrons got to suggest what fandom i’d draw for next and then vote on all of the suggested fandoms, and mob psycho 100 won! if you want to help decide what i draw, consider supporting me on patreon!
what she means: If you look at Freeze Your Brain at face value, you could easily interperet it as simply about JD’s fixation on 7/11 and his issues oversharing. But it’s really more about a place that feels normal and familiar and safe in a frightening and new situation. It’s easy to overlook this, as a lot of the song is made to be comedic. Take the lines “When mom was alive/we lived halfway normal./Now it’s just me and my dad,/we’re less formal” for example. During the musical, it’s easy to focus more on Veronica freaking out than on JD’s words and their meaning. This is done intentionally, as if to show that JD hides how hurt he is about his mother’s death with other emotions, as many people do. Towards the end, it is shown that JD uses slushies to control a possible self-harm habit and self-destructive thoughts, and that’s when the gravity of the song hits you. Despite sounding light-hearted, Freeze Your Brain is about a teenager trying to hold onto the one place that makes him feel safe and happy no matter where he is. If you consider the possibility that his mother introduced him to 7/11, it’s also about trying to recapture childhood emotions, despite the fact that so many things have changed.
Why do you want to fight Nicholas Sparks? And how would you challenge him (thrown glove, e-vite, etc)?
Thrown glove, definitely. This has to be PERSONAL, even though my problem with him is really everything he represents.
I have talked before about how his brand of dreck has basically killed the romcom, but I don’t think I’ve talked about why I hate his brand of dreck, so gather around, chickadees, for “How do I hate thee, Nicholas Sparks? Let me count the ways.”
1. Tragedy porn. Look, honestly, I liked “A Walk to Remember.” Mostly because of “Only Hope” and Shane West’s face, but I liked it (if I watched it today, even divorced from the whole of Sparks’s canon, I would hate it, but that’s a separate issue). But as time went on and I watched a couple more of his movies and then heard about the others, it’s just … look. I know that we make stories to make people feel a certain way. We want to elicit an emotional response. And that’s a good thing, you know? And I know I rail about darkness and sadness a lot, but I’m not even saying that stories should only try to elicit good emotions. That feels shallow.
But with Nicholas Sparks and other tear-jerker-type stories (see: reasons I never got into Grey’s Anatomy, reasons I’m more likely to read straight-up darkfic than what people call “sads”), the emotional manipulation is incredibly blatant and formulaic and … I don’t know, is “cheap” the word I want? I don’t see the point in a story that says “Here’s a thing you love. Fate is going to take that thing you love from you. The main character is going to lift their chin like Scarlett O’Hara and say ‘tomorrow is another day!’“ I don’t feel like it’s something the creator is sharing with me, I feel like it’s something they’re trying to do to me, and I don’t take kindly to that.
2. White Cis Hets Touching Foreheads.
3. His whole brand is marketed to women, books and movies both, they’re chick flicks, date movies, stuff For the Women, but he sure is a dude. Not that men aren’t allowed to write romances, but it’s just that slimy feeling of “a wise man making money off all those silly weepy romantic women” rather than “a wise man showing that it’s okay for both women and men to cry over a love story where tragic things happen.” Like. Nora Roberts sure doesn’t have this kind of franchise. And I can’t say I enjoy reading Nora Roberts, but one could excise the sex from her books and make movies and market them to women, but somehow nobody got to be a romantic-book-adaptation juggernaut until Sparks. Partly because he’s a man and partly because
4. Happiness Isn’t Art. There seems to be this implication that because things end badly, because they’re sad, because they make you cry, it’s okay that they’re romantic. The sadness makes sure that they’re art. And fuck that, honestly? Tearjerkers are fine, whatever, they can (and should, I don’t want to stop people writing for the genres that appeal to them) exist in the world even if I don’t want to consume them, but nobody in this world gets to tell me that the unhappiness elevates them higher than the romcom. That it’s better than Nora Roberts not because he’s a man but because the sadness makes it somehow more worthy.
6. Sometimes you just read a book or watch a movie and know that the person behind the story is ideologically opposed to you in pretty much every possible way.
Just to sum up, I guess … I’m a person who loves reading and writing love stories. I always have been, since I was a little kid. If there’s tragedy and difficulty along the way, sure, I’m willing to go along with that, but when there’s someone who consistently says “no, this is only worthy if I take happiness away from you, because happiness isn’t art, because romance is only worth of attention if tragedy interrupts it,” then I get ready for a fight. And since he’s very much the trend leader there, I am pretty much ready to meet him in the pit at all times.
Okay, I usually don’t come on here with my own opinions but I feel the need to speak up. And fuck all yall haters.
Split is the most mental illness empowering movie I have ever seen.
M. Night Shaymalan used great care in handling both illnesses displayed (DID & PTSD) throughout the film. James McAvoy’s performance is well portrayed, chilling, and beautiful. I never felt like his character was a bad person. What I saw was a good man struggling with an illness in his brain and trying to live in a world that broke and triggered him constantly.
The movie itself is, at times, hard to watch but that is expected for a Shaymalan film. In true Shaymalan fashion, this movie is filmed in an artistic way that forces you to face some hard truths without actually having to shove it in your face.
I honestly feel that every person with any kind of mental illness needs to see this movie. I personally walked out of the movie last night feeling empowered and even more accepting of myself because for once the characters with mental illness had the upper hand in both bad and good ways and I had witnessed a movie that not only understood how things can be for a mentally ill person but was able to display both the up and down sides of the illness.
And to top it all off there is a surprise at the end that completely turns the film on it’s head and even changes the world that you believe the film is in.
So basically what I am trying to say is don’t bash this movie until you have seen it. Go see it and if you still feel like it displays mental illness poorly then hate on it all you want.
I, however, want to thank Mr. Shaymalan and his cast and crew for a tense, beautiful, well researched and well put together peice of cinema. This is what movies were meant to be. Thank you for all of your hard work.
CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT His success as captain america has made Chris Evans one of Hollywood’s sure things, which means he can do whatever he wants with his free time. So why jump out of airplanes and get into it with David Duke?
Full Esquire Interview -
CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT
“HIS SUCCESS AS CAPTAIN AMERICA HAS MADE CHRIS EVANS ONE OF HOLLYWOOD’S SURE THINGS, WHICH MEANS HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS WITH HIS FREE TIME. SO WHY JUMP OUT OF AIRPLANES AND GET INTO IT WITH DAVID DUKE?
The Canadian commandos are the first to jump. Our plane reaches an altitude of about eight thousand feet; the back door opens. Although it’s a warm winter day below in rural southern California, up here, not so much. In whooshes freezing air and the cold reality that this is actually happening. Out drop the eight commandos, all in black-and-red camouflage, one after the other. For them it’s a training exercise, and Jesus, these crazy bastards are stoked. The last Canuck to exit into the nothingness is a freakishly tall stud with a crew cut and a handlebar mustache; just before he leaps, he flashes a smile our way. Yeah, yeah, we get it: You’re a badass.
Moments later, the plane’s at ten thousand feet, and the next to go are a Middle Eastern couple in their late thirties. These two can’t wait. They are ecstatic. Skydiving is clearly a thing for them. Why? I can’t help thinking. Is it like foreplay? Do they rush off to the car after landing and get it on in the parking lot? They give us the thumbs-up and they’re gone.
Just like that, we’re at 12,500 feet and it’s our turn. Me and Chris Evans, recognized throughout the universe as the star of the Marvel-comic-book-inspired Captain America and Avengers movies. The five films in the series, which began in 2011 with Captain America: The First Avenger, have grossed more than $4 billion.
The two of us, plus four crew members, are the only ones left in the back of the plane. Over the loud drone of the twin propellers, one of the crew members shouts, "Okay, who’s going first?”
Evans and I are seated on benches opposite each other. Neither of us answers. I look at him; he looks at me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a live rat. Evans is over there, all Captain America cool, smiling away.
While we were waiting to board the plane, Evans told me that as he lay in bed the night before, “I started exploring the sensation of ‘What if the chute doesn’t open?’. . .”
Oh, did you now?
“. . .Those last minutes where you know.” As in you know you’re going to fatally splat. “You’re not gonna pass out; you’re gonna be wide awake. So what? Do I close my eyes? Hopefully, it would be quick. Lights out. I fucking hope it would be quick. And then I was like, if you’re gonna do it, let’s just pretend there is no way this is going to go wrong. Just really embrace it and jump out of that plane with gusto.” Evans also shared that he’d looked up the rate of skydiving fatalities. “It’s, like, 0.006 fatalities per one thousand jumps. So I figure our odds are pretty good.”
Again the crew member shouts, “Who’s going first?”
Again I look at Evans; again he looks at me. The rat is running circles in my belly.
I look at Evans; he looks at me.
Another crew member asks, “So whose idea was this, anyway?”
That’s an excellent question.
I ask Evans the same thing when we first meet, the evening before our jump, at his house. He lives atop the Hollywood Hills, in a modern-contemporary ranch in the center of a Japanese-style garden. The place has the vibe of an L.A. meditation retreat—there’s even a little Buddha statue on the front step.
The dude who opens the front door is in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nikes; he has on a black ball cap with the NASA logo, and his beard is substantial enough that for a second it’s hard to be sure this is the same guy who plays the baby-faced superhero. Our handshake in the doorway is interrupted when his dog rockets toward my crotch. Evans is sorry about that.
We do the small-talk thing. Evans is from a suburb of Boston, one of four kids raised by Dad, a dentist, and Mom, who ran a community theater. The point is, he’s a Patriots fan, and with Super Bowl LI, between the Pats and the Falcons, just a few days away at the time, it’s about the only thing on his mind. You bet your Sam Adams–guzzling ass he’s going to the game in Houston. “Oh my God,” he says, doing a little dance. “I can’t believe it’s this weekend.”
Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.
Evans won’t be rolling to SB LI with a posse of Beantown-to-Hollywood A-listers like Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, and Ben Affleck. For the record, he’s never met Damon, and his only interaction with Wahlberg was a couple years ago at a Patriots event. Evans has, however, humiliated himself in front of Affleck.
Around 2006, Evans met with Affleck to talk about Gone Baby Gone, which Affleck was directing. Evans was walking down a hallway, looking for the room where they were supposed to meet. Walking by an open office, he heard Affleck, in that thick Boston accent of his, shout, “There he is!” (Evans does a perfect Affleck impersonation.)
By then, Evans had hit the big time for his turn as the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, in 2005’s Fantastic Four, but he still got starstruck. As he tells it, “First thing I say to him: 'Am I going to be okay where I parked?’ He was like, 'Where did you park?’ I said, 'At a meter.’ And he was like, 'Did you put money in the meter?’ And I said, 'Yep.’ And he says, 'Well, I think you’ll be okay.’ I was like, this is off to a great fucking start.” Stating the obvious here: Evans did not get the part.
No, Evans will be heading to the Super Bowl with his brother and three of his closest buddies. Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell for imposing that suspension on Tom Brady for Deflategate. Grabbing two beers from a fridge that’s otherwise basically empty, Evans says, “I just want to see Goodell hand the trophy to Brady. Goodell. Piece of shit.”
In Evans’s living room, there’s not a single hint of his Captain Americaness. Earth tones, tables that appear to be made of reclaimed wood. Open. Uncluttered. Glass doors open onto a backyard with a stunning view of the Hills. Evans stretches out on one of two couches. I take the other and ask, “Just whose idea was it to jump?” Since we both know whose idea it wasn’t, we both know that what I’m really asking is Why? Why, dude, do you want to jump (with me) from a goddamn airplane? “Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Settling in on the couch, he groans. Evans explains that he’s hurting all over because he just started his workout routine the day before to get in shape for the next two Captain America films. The movies will be shot back to back beginning in April. After that, no more red- white-and-blue costume for the thirty-five-year-old. He will have fulfilled his contract.
“Yeah,” he says, popping open his beer, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Back in 2010, Marvel presented Evans with a nine-picture deal. He insisted he’d sign on for no more than six. Some family members thought he was nuts to dial back such a secure and lucrative gig. Evans saw it differently.
It takes five months to shoot a Marvel movie, and when you tack on the promotional obligations for each one, well, shit, man. Evans knew that for as long as he was bound to Captain America, he would have little time to take on other projects. He wanted to direct, he wanted to play other characters—roles that were more human—like the lead in Gifted, which will hit theaters this month. The script had brought him to tears. Evans managed to squeeze the movie in between Captain America and Avengers films.
In Gifted, Evans stars as Frank Adler. You don’t get much more human than Adler, a grease-under-his-nails boat-engine mechanic living the bachelor life in Florida. After a series of tragic circumstances, Adler becomes a surrogate father to his niece, Mary, a first-grader with the IQ of Einstein. He recognizes that Mary is a little genius, and he does his best to prevent anyone else from noticing. Given the aforementioned circumstances, Adler has witnessed what can happen when a kid with a brilliant mind is pushed too hard too quickly. Then along comes Mary’s teacher. She discovers the child’s gift, and a Kramer vs. Kramer–esque drama ensues.
During a moment in the film when things aren’t going Adler’s way, he sarcastically refers to himself as a “fucking hero.” Evans says the line didn’t lead him to make comparisons between superhero Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and Everyman hero Frank Adler. But now that you mention it . . .
“With Steve Rogers,” Evans says, “even though you’re on a giant movie with a huge budget and strange costumes, you’re still on a hunt for the truth of the character.” That said, “with Adler, it’s nice to play someone relatable. I think Julianne Moore said, 'The audience doesn’t come to see you; they come to see themselves.’ Adler is someone you can hold up as a mirror for someone in the audience. They’ll be able to far more easily identify with Frank Adler than Steve Rogers.”
Dodger. That’s the name of Evans’s dog, the one who headbutted my nuts and has since done a marvelous job of making amends by nuzzling against me on the couch. Evans got him while he was filming Gifted; one of the last scenes was shot in an animal shelter in Georgia. Evans had wanted a dog ever since his last pooch died in 2012. Then he found himself walking the aisles of this pound, and there was this mixed-breed boxer, wagging his tail and looking like he belonged with Evans.
Dodger is not exactly a name you’d think a die-hard Boston sports fan would pick. His boys from back home have given him a ton of shit over it. But he has not abandoned his Red Sox for the L.A. team. As a kid, he loved the Disney animated movie Oliver & Company, and his favorite character was Dodger. Anticipating the grief he was going to get from his pals, Evans considered other names. “You could name your dog Doorknob,” he says, “and in a month he’s fucking Doorknob.” Evans’s mom convinced him to go with his gut.
Right around when Evans was wrapping Gifted and heading back to L.A. with Dodger, the 2016 presidential campaign was still in that phase when no one, including the actor—a Hillary Clinton supporter—thought Trump had a shot. He still can’t believe Trump won.
“I feel rage,” he says. “I feel fury. It’s unbelievable. People were just so desperate to hear someone say that someone is to blame. They were just so happy to hear that someone was angry. Hear someone say that Washington sucks. They just want something new without actually understanding. I mean, guys like Steve Bannon—Steve Bannon!—this man has no place in politics.”
Evans has made, and continues to make, his political views known on Twitter. He tweeted that Trump ought to “stop energizing lies,” and he recently ended up in a heated Twitter debate with former KKK leader David Duke over Trump’s pick of Jeff Sessions for attorney general. Duke baselessly accused Evans of being anti-Semitic; Evans encouraged Duke to try love: “It’s stronger than hate. It unites us. I promise it’s in you under the anger and fear.” Making political statements and engaging in such public exchanges is a rather risky thing for the star of Captain America to do. Yes, advisors have said as much to him. “Look, I’m in a business where you’ve got to sell tickets,” he says. “But, my God, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror if I felt strongly about something and didn’t speak up. I think it’s about how you speak up. We’re allowed to disagree. If I state my case and people don’t want to go see my movies as a result, I’m okay with that.”
Trump. Bannon. Politics. Now Evans is animated. He gets off the couch, walks out onto his porch, and lights a cigarette. “Some people say, 'Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s time to yell,' ” Evans says. “Yeah, I see it, and it’s time for calm. Because not everyone who voted for Trump is going to be some horrible bigot. There are a lot of people in that middle; those are the people you can’t lose your credibility with. If you’re trying to change minds, by spewing too much rhetoric you can easily become white noise.”
Evans has a pretty remarkable “How I got to Hollywood” story.
During his junior year of high school, he knew he wanted to act. He was doing it a lot. In school. At his mom’s theater. He loved it. “When you’re doing a play at thirteen years old and have opening night? None of my friends had opening nights. 'I can’t have a sleepover, guys; I have an opening night tonight.' ”
That same year, he did a two-man play. For all of the twenty-plus plays Evans had done up to that point, preparation meant going home, memorizing lines, and doing a few run-throughs with the cast. However, for this play, Fallen Star, he and his costar would rehearse by running dialogue with each other. Hour upon hour, night after night.
Fallen Star is about two friends, one of whom has just died. As the play opens, one of the characters comes home after the funeral to find his dead friend’s ghost. Evans was the ghost. Waiting backstage on opening night, he knew he didn’t have every line memorized, but he had the essence and emotion of the play down. Onstage, he remembers, “I was saying the lines not because they were memorized but because the play was in me. I was believing what I was saying.”
He was hooked. He wanted to do more of this kind of acting—real acting. He wanted to do films, in which the camera was right on him and he could just be the character, rather than theater, in which an actor must perform to the back of the room.
A family friend who was a television actor advised Evans that if he wanted to go to Hollywood, he needed an agent. Toward the end of his junior year, he had a ballsy request for his parents: If he found an internship with a casting agent in New York City, would they allow him to live there and cover the rent? They agreed. Evans landed a gig with Bonnie Finnegan, who was then working on the television show Spin City.
“I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.
Evans chose to intern with a casting agent because he figured he had more of a chance to interact with other agents trying to get auditions for their clients.
The kid was sixteen years old.
Finnegan put Evans on the phone; his responsibilities included setting up appointments for auditions. By the end of the summer, he picked the three agents he had the best rapport with and asked each of them to give him a five-minute audition. All three said yes. After seeing his audition, all three were interested.
Evans went with the one Finnegan recommended, Bret Adams, who told Evans to return to New York for auditions in January, television pilot season. Back home, Evans doubled up on a few classes the first semester of his senior year, graduated early, and went back to New York in January. He got the same shithole apartment in Brooklyn and the same internship with Finnegan. He landed a part on the pilot Opposite Sex. Even better, the show got picked up and would start shooting in L.A. that fall.
“I know I’m going to L.A. in August,” Evans says, recalling that period. “So I go home and that spring I would wake up around noon, saunter into high school just to see my buddies, and we’d go get high in the parking lot. I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life.” Until it wasn’t.
He wasn’t in L.A. for even a month when he got a call from home. His parents were divorcing. Evans never saw it coming.
Family and love and the struggles therein are part of what attracted Evans to Gifted.
“In my own life, I have a deep connection with my family and the value of those bonds,” he says. “I’ve always loved stories about people who put their families before themselves. It’s such a noble endeavor. You can’t choose your family, as opposed to friends. Especially in L.A. You really get to see how friendships are put to the test; it stirs everyone’s egos. But if something goes south with a friend, you have the option to say we’re not friends anymore. Your family—that’s your family. Trying to make that system work and trying to make it not just functional but actually enjoyable is a really challenging endeavor, and that’s certainly how it is with my family.”
the plane, a decision is made.
“I want to see you jump first,” Evans shouts my way.
Of course he does.
Like any respectable and legal skydiving center, Skydive Perris, which is providing us with this “experience,” doesn’t just strap a chute on your back. First, you go to a room for a period of instruction. Then you go to another room, where you sign away your rights.
You may be wondering how the star of a billion-dollar franchise with two pictures to shoot gets clearance to jump from an airplane—never mind the low rate of fatalities, as Evans has presented it. So am I.
“Well, they give you all these crazy insurance policies, but even if I die, what are they going to do? Sue my family? They’d probably cast some new guy at a cheaper price and save some money.”
Thinking the answer is almost certainly going to be no, I ask Evans if he’s ever gone skydiving before. Turns out he has, with an ex-girlfriend. Turns out that ex-girlfriend is now married to Justin Timberlake. Evans and Jessica Biel dated off and on from 2001 to 2006. They took the leap together when Biel hatched the idea for one Valentine’s Day. According to media accounts, Evans was recently dating his Gifted costar Jenny Slate, who plays the teacher. “Yeah,” he says, “but I’m steering clear of those questions.” You can almost feel his heart pinch.
“There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around.”
We end up broadly discussing the unique challenges an international star like Evans faces when it comes to dating, specifically the trust factor. Evans supposes that’s why so many actors date other actors: “There’s a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who’s not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around,” he says. “Letting someone go to work with someone for three months and they won’t see them. It really, it certainly puts the relationship to the test.”
In Gifted, there’s a moment when Slate’s character asks Adler what his greatest fear is. Frank Adler’s greatest fear is that he’ll ruin his niece’s life. Evans’s greatest fear is having regrets.
“Like always kind of wanting to be there as opposed to here. I think I’m worried all of a sudden I’ll get old and have regrets, realize that I’ve not cultivated enough of an appreciation for the now and surrendering to the present moment.”
Evans’s musings have something to do with the fact that he has been reading The Surrender Experiment. “It’s about the basic notion that we are only in a good mood when things are going our way,” he says. “The truth is, life is going to unfold as it’s going to unfold regardless of your input. If you are an active participant in that awareness, life kind of washes over you, good or bad. You kind of become Teflon a little bit to the struggles that we self-inflict.”
He continues: “Our conscious minds are very spread out. We worry about the past. We worry about the future. We label. And all of that stuff just makes us very separate. What I’m trying to do is just quiet it down. Put that brain down from time to time and hope those periods of quiet and stillness get longer. When you do that, what rises from the mist is a kind of surrendering. You’re more connected as opposed to being separate. A lot of the questions about destiny or fate or purpose or any of that stuff—it’s not like you get answers. You just realize you didn’t need the questions.”
This here—this stuff about surrendering, letting life unfold, taking the leap—this is why he wanted to go skydiving. It’s why that sixteen-year-old took the leap and did the summer in New York; it’s why he took the leap and turned down the nine-picture deal; it’s why he got Dodger. Surrender. Take the leap.
And so I go first.
Oh, one important detail: Novice jumpers like Evans and me, we don’t jump solo. Thank God. Each of us is doing a tandem jump. Each of us is strapped with our back to a professional jumper’s front. I’m strapped to a forty-four-year-old dude named Paul. Considering what’s about to happen, I figure I should know a little something about Paul. He tells me he used to own a bar in Chicago. Evans is strapped to a young woman named Sam, who looks to be twenty-something. She’s got a purplish-pink streak in her black hair and says things like “badass.” In fact, Sam introduced herself by saying, “I’m Sam, but you can call me Badass.”
At the plane’s open door, my mind goes to my wife and two teenage sons, to those I love, and to the texts I just sent in case my chute fails. Then Paul and I—well, really mostly Paul—rock gently back and forth to build momentum to push away from the plane, to push away from all that seems sane.
HOLY FUCK. This is what I scream as we free-fall from 12,500 feet, at more than a hundred miles an hour, toward the earth. Which I cannot take my eyes off of. I think about nothing. Not living. Not dying. Nothing. I simply feel . . . I have let go.
Suddenly, it all stops. I’m jerked up. Paul has pulled the chute, and it does indeed open. This is fantastic, because it means we have a much better chance of not dying. But it’s also kind of a bummer. I had let go. Of everything. I had chosen to play those odds Evans had talked about. I had embraced jumping and letting life unfold.
Now I had been jerked back. I would land. Back on the earth I had been so high above and from which I had been so far removed. Back in all of it.
Once I’m on the ground, safe and in one piece, a staffer runs over and asks how I feel. I say, “I feel like Captain America.”
The staffer runs over and asks Evans the same question. He says he feels great. Then he’s asked another question: What was your favorite part?
“Jumping out,” he says. “Jumping out is always a real thrill.”
This article appears in the April '17 issue of Esquire.
Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.
The Alpha pack has systematically attacked Stiles and his friends for months, testing their strengths and weaknesses. When one of the Alphas goes after Stiles, he awakens in the hospital and realizes that something’s wrong. Very wrong. All sounds seem to hurt him, he can’t understand what anyone is saying, and when he tries to speak, it’s gibberish. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he’s lost the ability to communicate with his dad and his friends?
Without his ability to talk, his sarcasm, and his wit, what does Stiles even have left? Enter Derek, the only one who seems to make it better.
This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.
Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.
Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.
This is part 1/? of a human AU I’ve been wanting to write for AGES in which Derek and Stiles are long-distance friends/pen pals.
Derek lives in California and Stiles lives in Poland. Features brief past Stiles/Malia (Derek and Malia aren’t related in this AU). Idk how long this fic could eventually get; I’m hoping to just work on it as I get the time/inspiration.
Title from “Mind Over Matter” by Young the Giant because that song always makes me think of LDRs.
If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.
He’s got dozens of photos of Stiles saved to his phone, and a whole box of letters from Stiles, and years’ worth of emails from Stiles, and a whole wall of postcards from Stiles pinned up on the wall over his bed, and none of it is enough.
He wants to do things to Stiles, okay, things besides just watch movies together in two different time zones or talk on skype.
…which… is kind of a new feeling.
Derek didn’t even know he liked guys until three years ago, freshman year of high school, when Stiles came home from a party raving about this girl he’d kissed, Malia something-or-other, and how Malia’s hair was so soft, and how Malia had the prettiest brown eyes and the best laugh, and—and suddenly Derek wanted to throw his computer against the wall.
“I have to go,” he’d snapped, and slammed his laptop shut and thrown on some jogging clothes.
He was five miles deep into the Preserve before it really sank in, not just the jealousy but the absurdity of the jealousy. He and Stiles had never even met, technically. They were probably never going to live in the same country. There was no logical reason for them not to date other people. Especially given that Stiles might not even like guys, or like him.
Still, he was secretly, guiltily, viciously satisfied when Stiles and Malia broke up barely two weeks later.
And since then the crush has gotten, if anything, worse.
isak and even are in isak’s room, browsing through the “thrillers” section on netflix (because even says he’s in the mood for a little suspence) and there’s a knock on the door and they hear linn say “hey, did you guys take my box of cookies?” and the truth is that said box is right there on isak’s lap, and isak looks at even and mouths “oops”. when he opens the door, the box in his hand, he tells linn “it’s been there for like a month and i wasn’t sure whose cookies they were but, hm” he looks inside the box and continues “there’s a couple left” and he hands it to linn and she just stares at him for a few seconds, expressionless, and says “it’s fine, keep it”, turns around and leaves
isak asks even “am i an ass?” and even laughs a little and ruffles isak’s hair and says “nah, just a hungry teenager”. and isak moves away from even’s hand and looks at him with a mischievous smile on his face and he replies “totally hungry” playfully, before he leans in and gently cover even’s nose with his teeth, not really bitting down and even doesn’t try to free himself, simply teases “it smells like chocolate chip cookies in there. actually, it smells like stolen chocolate chip cookies” and isak takes his mouth off his nose and replies “hey! i thought you said i wasn’t an ass”, all pouty and grumpy and even can’t help but smile at him. “you aren’t, but you did take linn’s cookies. and now she doesn’t have any”. isak sighs, rests his head on even’s shoulder and says “we could go get her another box?”
they do end up going to the store, but instead they buy the ingredients they need to make the cookies themselves (except for eggs, which isak says he already has at home). and then they’re in the kitchen, and even places the ingredients on the counter, opens the fridge and grabs two eggs, says “catch!” before he slowly throws one in isak’s direction. isak does catch it and looks at him with wide eyes and warns “if you make a mess, you’re the one cleaning” and even simply cups his face, plants a quick kiss on his forehead and his nose and his mouth and his chin and says “i won’t”. and then they make the cookies, even telling isak the measurements. “two cups of chocolate chips”, which isak adds to the dough, and then he adds an extra handful, says “it’ll taste way better like this. more chocolate, better cookies” and even chuckles. “yes, chef valtersen”
when the cookies are done, they knock on linn’s door, a platter in isak’s hands. even asks “liiiiinn, our dear linn, are you hungry for some amazing, delicious homemade cookies, made with a lot love and a whole lot of chocolate chips?” and there’s a short silence before they hear her say “thanks, but i’m not really hungry right now”. isak looks at even and shrugs and he tells linn “well, we made a lot, let us know when you want some, okay?” and they hear a muffled “mmhm” from behind the door
they start to watch the usual suspects, isak all cuddled up against even, an arm around even’s stomach, a leg wrapped over his. a few minutes later, linn’s knocking on the door and asking “cookies kind of smelled nice, can i have some?” and isak tells her “come in, linn!” she doesn’t flinch when she sees them on the bed, linn really doesn’t mind displays of affection as long as they’re silent. even hands her the platter and asks her “hey, feel like watching a movie?” and linn frowns a little. “is it moulin rouge again?” and even replies “nah, it’s not moulin rouge”. he opens his free arm (the one that’s not holding isak close) as an invitation and linn sits next him, cookie platter on her lap, and even wraps an arm around her as she bites into one of the cookies. isak lifts his head up a little, and when even looks at him in the eyes, they exchange a knowing smile
“i want us to be friends,” you say with that hopeful look on your face.
friends. the word falls awkwardly to the ground and crashes like a china plate. i don’t know why my chest feels like it’s caving in, i’ve known the answer for months.
“okay.” i say, and for a split second, your face changes.
and then i know. because suddenly it’s one year earlier and you’re sitting across from me crosslegged on a blanket of grass, telling me about your worst fears. you’re kissing me under the darkened lights of a movie theater, calling me at one in the morning to rant, telling me that you loved me while we’re driving down a highway. because you don’t want us to be friends, you never have. and so we sit across from each other like strangers who know each other’s secrets, screaming silently at each other ‘love me, love me the way you used to,’
Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a
popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her
cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more
than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,442
language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes
A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.
And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.
Please take it easy. Don’t be so harsh on yourself. You are valid and you are loved. If for whatever reason you are having a bad day, night, week, month- it’ll pass. I promise you. Bad things do not always last forever. Just like happiness is temporary- your sadness is temporary, too. Better times are ahead. They will come, though it may seem hard to believe. Just keep holding on. Keep fighting.
Go make a hot chocolate or something and do something you enjoy. Read a book or watch your favourite movie or sing along to your favourite song or call your best friend. Better times are ahead. It’ll be okay. I promise you. It’ll be okay.