oh the things my mom says

Mental Illness in the Horror Genre

Something that pissed me off the other day.

Talking to a guy who knows my parents but doesn’t know me very well, and he tells me that his friend (indeed, a very nice and talented actor) recently put out a horror movie. And I’m interested until I hear the words “So it’s about this guy with OCD…” and at that point my mom and I give each other a sidelong glance.

I say, “I don’t know, because I have OCD and it’s a pretty serious thing for me.”

To which he follows up, “Oh, you don’t have it like this guy! You’re totally functional!”

Okay, dude. Yes, I am standing before you in a fancy club, dressed nice, and looking relatively balanced. But you do not know me. You do not know OCD.

You do not know that I have been non-functional, and that in order to maintain my current balance of sanity, I take daily medication and see a weekly therapist, and I still have downward spirals and panic attacks.

OCD can add to a story, for sure. The Aviator is a great example–albeit, it was on the voyeuristic side, kind of “check out what a weirdo this guy really is”, but his condition was portrayed in a realistic and *sympathetic* manner, because it focused so hard on his anxiety and entrapment.

I don’t need a horror movie about my disorder for a couple reasons.
1. I already live the horror movie that is OCD.
2. Just like people with psychosis, schizophrenia/schizotypal disorders, dissociative identity disorders, and any other number of mental disorder that makes us act in unusual and yes, sometimes frightening ways, I don’t need it to be the hinge for your horror flick, a handy device that makes more people like you scared and misunderstanding of people like me.
3. And for people with the above disorders who may not be diagnosed, they don’t need to be told that they are dangerous monsters and cause them to avoid treatment out of fear. (This goes double for people who experience paranoia or delusions as part of their symptoms.)

This post ended up way longer than I meant, but really, truly, hear me out creators:

MENTAL ILLNESS IS A TRAIT AMONG AN INFINITE VARIETY OF PEOPLE. IT IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW, AND IT IS DEFINITELY A POOR PLOT DEVICE FOR THE HORROR GENRE. YOU CAN DO BETTER.

gather round tumblr it’s time for a story about why you shouldn’t solicit conversation with a stranger with a put down about their generation

i sat down about 30 minutes ago in the lobby of a very nice hotel, intending to do some writing. i have my laptop and my cellphone. as i settled, i checked some stuff on my phone, then turned to my laptop. because there aren’t many plugs, i’m sitting in a cluster of couches and instead of being by myself there’s an he’s an older gentleman across from me, polo shirt, salt and pepper hair. was very polite when i asked if he minded if i tucked myself in the corner of the couch

but apparently

apparently

he thinks computers are full of satan or something

because no sooner have i opened up goddamn word when he goes, “you kids and your electronics.”

ah, excellent, unsolicited conversation with a perfect stranger that comes with a critique of modern communication. fight me, bro, you got no idea who you’re tangling with. so naturally i push up my metaphorical sleeves (metaphorical because i’m in a goddamn resort and pavement is melting; i’m wearing a very nice goddamn dress and i’d look like a fucking soccer mom named helen if i had blonde hair) and very politely, i smash his face into the floor with “i’m sorry?” in an utterly flabbergasted tone because dude wtf and no one delivers slick put downs when they’re caught off guard

“i’m here reading my newspaper and after this my wife and i are going on a hike” (lol good luck with that dude the pavement is melting and you want to hike in the mountains) “and we’re going to interact with each other.” he gives my computer a v pointed look

naturally, i have the perfect response to this. it is pithy and eloquent and will surely put him in his place: “i… like to write, and it’s easier on a laptop?”

“it seems to me” (HERE WE GO) “that your generation” (OH GOOD) “is losing the ability to interact with other people.” (O OK) “my grandchildren never take their eyes off their cellphones anymore!” 

and here he pauses and looks at me. as if he expects me to agree. 

so i say “you were born in the 50s, right?” he says he was born in 59. “well, it seems to me that your generation is really fond of adultery, embezzlement, and corporate fraud, among other things, and i’m really enjoying paying for your retirement.”

i admit: i had this line canned after a little snarl i had with my mom the other night.

he stares at me. i stare back. 

“you also realize,” i say, quickly typing socrates kids these days quote into google, “that people have been saying kids these days since socrates said, and i quote, children now love luxury. they have bad manners. contempt for authority. they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.” i look up at him. he’s staring at me still.

i’m shaking because man fuck confrontation but also how hilarious is this because i literally had a fight with my mom about this twelve hours ago. i literally have a cranky tweet about it. “so it seems to me that making sweeping generalizations about people based on pretty arbitrary age groupings is kind of ridiculous since i’m pretty sure you’re not cheating on your wife or stealing from your company.”

he goes beat red because now i’m embarrassed him, and i feel really fucking bad because i didn’t mean to embarrass him, but also hey dude fuck you

SO OF COURSE he says “did your parents teach you any manners?”

and there goes the last of my embarrassment because hey fuck you dude the only person who can insult my parents is fucking me. and i say, without even thinking because this is when you have the snappiest rejoinders, “well they did teach me not to open unsolicited conversation with a stranger by insulting them so.”

at this point the dude’s wife shows up and they leave, and the waiter asks me if i want anything to drink and i’m like “yes please give me all your vodka” but instead i say “ice water” because the pavement is melting and if i puke from nerves after that, i don’t want to snort alcohol out my nose

that’s it that’s my story

6

One of my favorite things that I think we added and I think sort of speaks to who Juan is— is he’s on the block, and he’s asking Terence about his mother. And you might not have caught it, but he says she’s in my prayers between blow and smoke. And I think that speaks to that situation and that circumstance. It’s somebody who’s on the corner selling drugs, who is a general and this is his lieutenant, but he’s checking on the brother’s mom and just letting him know – I think the audience then knows that oh, wow, this man has a relationship with a higher power in some capacity. And we would never give that person that kind of credit as we drive past them on the street, very quickly, with our doors locked.Mahershala Ali

anonymous asked:

When I was like 5 I used to think that porn was just a shorter way to say popcorn, and one day my teacher had us go around a circle and say our favorite thing to do, and I said "Watch porn get hot and explode!" and the teacher made me go to the office and tell my mom what I said, so I did and I asked "What's wrong with watching popcorn explode?" and they caught on and the teacher was like "Oh" and sometimes I just sit and think about that idk

HAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHA this is good

In case you missed this magic moment during Mark’s LiveStream

Mark: My brother made me prank call 9-1-1 when I was a very young kid.

Ethan: That’s horrible. *laughs*

Mark: Yeah it was horrible for me because like, he was just like, I was like, what, SIX maybe, at the time.

Ethan: How old was he?

Mark: He would have been EIGHT, so he wasn’t much older, but he knew what 9-1-1 was and it was only for emergencies only. So he was like, “Hey, hey Mark if you dial 9-1-1 something cool will happen”, or something like that and so I do it. I call and there’s some angry voice. “9-1-1 WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?” and I’m like, “UH… *click*”

Ethan: Oh!

Mark: And they call back! Like, if you get a hang-up they call back cause they’re like, ‘oh maybe they’re having a heart attack’, and they call back and I’m like, “I’m sorry… It was an accident…” And then like this very gruff voice is like, [cause I get it I’m not saying anything is a bad thing it’s just like, “HOW’D… DO YOU KNOW THIS IS FOR EMERGENCIES?!” and I’m like, “I DON’T KNOW *high pitched scared boys voice*” and I hang-up again.

Ethan: Oh NO!

Mark: And they like kept calling back and it’s just like, “AH!

Ethan: Did they send cops to your house?

Mark: No they were gonna I ran up to my mom like, “BAHHH… MOMMMM! *crying boys voice* BAHMEHGUH *unintelligable crying boy voice* I CALLED 9-1-1 WHAT DO I DO?!” She get’s like, she gets on the phone and they yell at her and there’s like, she’s like, 

“HE’S SIX! HE’S SIX!" 

and it goes like and she’s like, 

"HE’S SIX YEARS OLD!”

my mom, very angry at the time, 

“BHE’S SIX! DON’T YOU GET IT! SHUT UP!" 

So my mom was just yelling at the police for a while and they’re like, ”DO WE NEED TO SEND A CRUISER OVER THERE!“ 

NO!! HE’S SIX!! SHUT UP!!

Ethan, Tyler, Amy, Kathryn: *laughing*

Mark: Yeah, I got grounded for a while.

anonymous asked:

“You bake when you’re stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day, now I’m not complaining but are you okay?” au sterek? <3

OK, I wrote you a quick little thing. :)

now also on ao3

*

When Derek shows up at Stiles’ back door that morning with a basket full of about three dozen cookies, all carefully iced to look like Batman and Spider-Man, Stiles doesn’t say anything. He just gets up from the kitchen table and opens the screen door, and then he looks down at the basket for a long, long moment, and then he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.

He looks kind of… unkempt. He’s wearing the same sweatpants and lacrosse hoodie he’d had on two days ago when Derek saw him at his mailbox, and his hair is sticking up everywhere, and it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved in a while because there’s some actual stubble there. Derek didn’t think Stiles was even capable of facial hair. It only adds to his attractiveness, but still, Derek can’t help but be concerned.

Derek doesn’t usually start conversations, but today he feels like making an exception. “Are you okay? This is a lot more baking than usual, even for you.”

“What? What do you mean?” Stiles says, dropping his hands to his sides. His face cycles through about five or six different expressions before settling on something that’s probably trying to say “innocent and oblivious,” but… well. Derek might not know Stiles that well, but he knows Stiles is definitely not either of those things, ever.

“The cookies,” Derek says slowly. “That you leave on my doorstep a few times a week while I’m out on my morning run.”

Stiles glares down at the cookies Derek’s holding like they’ve betrayed him.

“We don’t talk about it,” Derek says slowly, unsure, “but I thought you knew that I knew it was you. I mean, no one else in the neighborhood even talks to me.”

Keep reading

10

The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do was to help people, because there are a lot of sick people in the world, a lot of people who are struggling and suffering and they’re just not happy. And I used to be one of those people, and I used to wish that my life would end, you know. If I was 20 I’d say ‘Oh I can’t stand to…I don’t know if I’m going to live to be another 20 years, I can’t take another 20 years of what I’ve been through’. And my mom would look at me and say 'Oh I’m so sad to hear you say that, and if you don’t know what it feels like to be happy, you don’t know what you don’t know’. It’s like there’s no hope. But it doesn’t really have to be that way. I just want to make music and I want to do a lot of things that are really going to inspire people, and improve the quality of their lives.

RIP Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes (May 27, 1971 – April 25, 2002)

4

FUNNY STORY so I made a valentine for a friend a while ago and said friend posted it on twitter and tagged Cam, without telling me. he found it and RTed it and not even half an hour later I get a message from him and his fiancée telling me how much they love my art, and would I do a piece for them? you bet your ass I said yes - Gasson Hall at Boston College, acrylic on canvas, 12hrs total work time. they arranged to have me come down after the game at Verizon yesterday so I could give it to him. I was nervous as hell and this man who is clearly older sees me and smiles and says “oh! you must be scout! hi there, I’m Mr. Atkinson, Cam’s dad! nat [fiancée] told me you’d be here!” and he just picks up a conversation with me like it’s nothing. luckily my mom knows more New England lore than I do. Cam comes up and looks for us and the first thing he does is grin and go “hi!!” and then apologize for not being able to grab me a stick from the game before they packed them up. we talk for a while about college and the pride tape thing and the scooter gang and he’s just marveling at the painting the entire time, I was about ready to die, ok. i mentioned I didn’t own an NHL jersey yet and he’s like UM we need to fix that send us your address! it was so cute. he made sure to give me a hug and was like “we need to get a picture together!” and WOW I was exceptionally anxious but Cam Atkinson is the sweetest human being and everything worked out and now my art is going on the wall of their house!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAT

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?

BY MAXIMILLIAN POTTERMAR 15, 2017


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.

FOX Searchlight

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.

Three.

Two.

One.

Holy fuck.

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.

Daveed Diggs never auditioned for Hamilton. In fact, he fell into the career-making musical smash by accident. But you don’t get halfway to an EGOT in one year without the raw talent to back it up, and Diggs has plenty. The proof? His dazzling smile and halo of curls seem to be everywhere we look these days, from our TV screens to our playlists.


But back to that accident. In 2012, the Oakland native was cobbling together a living as a performer, touring with his experimental rap group, Clipping, and substitute teaching to pay the bills. “I was living at the poverty line at this point—maybe,” he recalls. But his luck took an unexpected turn when a clerical error placed Diggs and another teacher, Anthony Veneziale, in the same Marin County classroom. Turns out they were both freestyle rappers—and like good improvisers, they leaned into the mishap and taught the class together. Diggs gave him a ride home that day, and eventually Veneziale invited him to join his freestyle rap group. Also in the group: Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton‘s eventual creator and star, as well as the show’s director, Thomas Kail. Unbeknownst to Diggs, Miranda’s Pulitzer-winning opus was already in the works — and the rest is modern Broadway legend.


Kail asked Diggs to take part in a workshop of Hamilton in the summer of 2013, where he originated the dual roles of fast-rapping (like, 19-words-in-three-seconds fast) revolutionary Marquis de Lafayette and Alexander Hamilton’s swaggering political rival Thomas Jefferson. Following a wildly successful Off Broadway run, Hamilton opened on Broadway in August 2015 and snowballed into a pop culture phenomenon that won the cast a Grammy for Best Musical Theater Album, and Diggs a Tony for best featured actor in a musical.


[…]


Diggs has mixed feelings about his sudden rise. “Everyone wants to talk to you when you’re in Hamilton, which is nice, but the only thing they know is Hamilton,” he says. “That was the weird thing—to have been an artist your whole life and have nobody care, and then all of a sudden everybody cares.”


Growing up in the Bay Area, Diggs says his family was poor but “very happy.” Though his Jewish mother and black father weren’t together, they shared the responsibility of raising Diggs and his younger brother easily. “They were both very fun parents, but my dad takes his fun very seriously,” he explains. “We would get chocolate chip cheesecake for breakfast and then go to school.” It was in the fourth grade that Diggs realized he could make his classmates laugh by acting out poems. “I was very shy,” he says. “[But] I remember feeling very powerful at that moment.”


He replicated that feeling throughout high school in slam poetry competitions. “I was a good performer, so I could win with pretty subpar writing,” he says. After graduating from Brown University in 2004 with a concentration in theater, he moved back in with his mom in Oakland while auditioning for plays, working on music, and teaching. “It seems like I was doing so much, but it was just grinding,” he says. “I didn’t have another skill set.” Even his mother knew that to be true. “I tried to apply for a job as a waiter, and my mom laughed at me,” Diggs says. “She was like, ‘You can’t do that.‘”


All that grinding has paid off: He’ll appear on the big screen in Wonder later this fall alongside Julia Roberts, Owen Wilson, and Jacob Tremblay. He’ll also executive-produce The Mayor, ABC’s upcoming fall series about a struggling rapper who runs for office — and if that’s not enough, he’s set to star on TNT’s adaptation of Bong Joon-ho’s 2014 dystopian film, Snowpiercer. Oh, and he’s working on music in his spare time, too. “I’m just trying to do all the things,” he says with a laugh. “I like acting. I like rapping. And it turns out, I like producing!” But with his years of hustling not so far in his past, Diggs is realistic about Hollywood’s fickle attention span. “I know it’s rare and doesn’t always last very long, so I’m trying to soak it up while I can,” he says as he heads into rehearsal for a movie he’s not even allowed to talk about yet. “When it all comes crashing down and I’m couch surfing again, I’ll remember these times fondly.” We have a feeling he’s going to be okay.

Burrito Blanket Batmom - Bruce Wayne/Batfamily x Reader

I kinda love the idea of a “burrito blanket” batmom haha, and since I thought the request from anonymous I received was quite similar, I mixed them up together. Hope you’ll like it, particularly you @dannysanime, as usual, feedbacks are very welcome :) : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

__________________________________________________

-Are you alright mother ?

It’s early in the morning when your youngest son finds you in the living room, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, eyes wide open and not really looking at anything in particular. You don’t even react as he approaches you. 

-Mother ? Hey ? Mom are you alright ? 

Finally, you turn your head to look at him, blanket all the way up to your chin and wrapped around your head (and all around your body really, your face the only thing peering out of this burrito you made of yourself), you say in a croaked voice : 

-No.

Damian is immediately worried. It isn’t often, if not never, that you complain. That you let things get you down. You’re the cheery one of the family. You and Dick often are the ones that see the positive things in everything, so, seeing you there, laying on the couch without even the TV on, and looking as if you were completely done with life…Well, it worries your kid. 

You realize that he’s concerned about your well being when he kneels in front of you, and put his palm on your forehead. Oh, sweet boy. If only everyone could see him as you saw him, if only he’d be as nice with everyone as he is with you…No one would ever call him “brat” anymore. 

-I’m not sick honey, I’m just…I’m just….erf…

-…You’re just “erf” ?

You shrug your shoulder. Or at least, Damian thinks you shrug your shoulder, he isn’t really sure, seeing as you’re wrapped tightly in that damn comforter. 

He’s not sure what’s wrong with you, but he still wants to help. 

-Hum…Is there anything I can do for you ? Do  you want coffee ? Something to eat ? Or do you want me to go put a movie on or something ? Anything, really ?

You smile weakly at him, and it makes him frown. Your smiles are never weak ! They’re always so bright, warm, beautiful ! They always make him feel better, not matter what. Awkwardly, he brushes a few fingers against your cheek, and your smile widens a  little. Here. Better. 

-You’re already doing a lot my boy. 

“My boy”. He loved when you called him that. It made him feel…It just made him feel loved. And like a part of the family. Your son. But of course he was your son, you never saw him in any other way, even at the difficult beginnings…

He kept on brushing your cheek lightly, putting some strand of hair out of your face. You managed to take an arm out of your blanket, and caressed his hair lovingly, he laid his head next to yours, kneeling on the floor in front of you, and you just shared a sweet mom/son moment…So much that you both fell into a deep and comfortable slumber. 

Keep reading

My favorite thing in Spanish [I think this is mostly Spain?] is when you hear someone say madre mía as an expression because it’s like “oh wow” or “oh my gosh” but I just imagine people going “MY MOM, would you look at that!”

anonymous asked:

can you show us some Brazilian slang?

OH BOY THERE IS LIKE HUNDREDS

but I will show the ones people use the most. If anything I do a part 2

eita: you can use it for everything, it’s like “wow” or similars. “it costs $300″ “EITA”, “Then we kissed” “EITA”

eita porra: eita intensifies “it costs $700″ “EITA PORRA”

ata: it’s like “oh okay” but it evolved to SOMETHING ELSE and you can use anytime you dont know what to say. “you need a 12/10 to finish this subject” “ata” / “My mom died and my cat is sick and my hair is falling off!!” “…ata”

treta: drama, or a clusterfuck. Like I'm so tired of drama = Cansei de tanta treta. (but we love drama)

arrombado: someone annoying or really lucky. “He won the best prize. Arrombado”

tua cara: reminds you of someone, translates to your face. “I just saw a band shirt so cool. Tua cara”

teu cu: your asshole. You know that thing you said about me? Now its about your asshole. “Dude you are so ugly I want to scream and die” “teu cu”

caguei: it translates to basically “I shitted”. Like bullshit, you don’t care. “so then Privilege McWhite kissed Banana CreamCracker” “caguei”

corno: men whose wife cheated on him, insult. “A corno like him can’t talk shit about anyone”

porre: LOTS of alcohol. “Tomei um porre” = “I drank WAY too much” 

safado: someone without morals. “he just go around saying he loves them and then leaves out of nowhere” “Safado!”

nego: it would translate to n*gger, but here it lost basically all the meaning, I dont even know if it had a racist conotation to start. sometimes, you mean “sweatheart” like: “your baby is so cute” “meu nego <3″

cabueta: a tattletale. “he just told the teacher I cheated!” “Cabueta morre cedo” (tattletales die young)

oião: big eyes, someone who envy others often. “I want your dress” “saí daí (get out), oião”

ai dentu: its basically some kind of annoyed “fuck”, like when someone says something stupid, annoying or obviously a lie “I wish Brazil had a president like Trump” “aí dentu” 

quenga: bitch

tribufu: ugly bitch

rapariga: bitch, and a rebelious act against portugal (where rapariga just means girl)

boçal: thinks very highly of themselves, are annoying for that. “She said she doesnt want to ride the bus” “ Ela é muito boçal”

Weekender

Summary:   Jack hates conventions – the crowds, the noise, the forced socialization, but it’s a work thing that must be done. Enter Samwell Hockey Player, Eric Bittle, who attends the convention with a group of friends. Suddenly things begin to look up. Jack and Bitty meet at Falcs Fest. Flirting, shenanigans, and love ensue. 

“Jack, I realize it’s not how you want to spend your weekend,” George said then paused to take a long sip of coffee. “But it is what it is, and everyone has to do it.” She smiled and added, “So suck it up, mister.”

Jack frowned, “Fine. Fine. Everyone else has to attend, too, right? Everyone?”

George leaned back in her chair and nodded, “Yes. Tater, Thirdy, Guy, Marty, Snowy, Poots – everyone. Misery loves company, after all.”

Jack huffed petulantly.

“I’m kidding!” George said with a laugh, “Come on. The Hawks are always bragging about their convention, so we have to make our inaugural one fantastic and have everyone there.”

Jack shrugged and took a pen from George’s desk, he twirled it absentmindedly in his fingers.

“Jack, it’ll be fine, and guess what? You might actually enjoy it. An entire weekend surrounded by adoring fans, eating anything you want, being handed people’s babies, dancing and whatnot?”

Jack got up and pushed his chair in. “Thanks, George.”

George smiled, then took her attention back to her computer, as Jack loomed in her office doorway.

“Yes, Jack?” She asked as she wrote something in an appointment book.

“Do we have to stay at the hotel, too?”

“Up to you, Jack. Do you feel like driving home back and forth early in the morning and late at night? Most of the guys are making a weekend of it and staying there. There’ll be team brunches every morning. We still have a couple rooms available in the block we reserved, so you can stay there if you want.”

Jack frowned again.

George paused and looked at him, “A little fun won’t kill you, Zimmermann.”

Jack nodded, attempted a meager smile and exited George’s office.

“Oh, and Jack?”

“Yes?

"Can I have my pen back?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey can you please write a hc about Isak hiding his face by hugging Even cause he's embarrassed ? Thx !!

okay SO

isak has a hard time letting go when he’s dancing, he remains pretty stiff, mostly just bobs his head to the music. it’s just. it’s not fun, it’s something he’d force himself to do at parties, dancing with girls and trying to play and look cool. and the thing is that he doesn’t really dance at parties since he’s with even, because even would never force him to, and it’s been a while since he’s cared about what people think of him, about looking cool 

but the thing is that even wants to dance with isak. even loves to dance, he’ll often put on a song while they’re in their room or in the kitchen and just start dancing and singing along. and one day isak is sitting on the couch under even’s loft bed, his notes on his lap, and even puts on fy faen by hkeem and he starts dancing, smiling wide at isak. and isak keeps looking down at his notes, pretends not to smile, but then even comes and grabs his hand and tells him “baby come on” and isak frees his hand from even’s hold, tells him “i’m studying” and even shakes his head but keeps moving to the rhythm of the song, tells him “you’ve been studying all afternoon”. and he grabs isak’s hand and pulls harder, lifting him up, isak’s notes falling to the ground, isak ending up pretty much pressed against even 

and even puts his arms around isak’s neck, whispers “hey you,” and isak can’t help but smile a little at that. but he’s still not really moving, not letting himself go, and then the song is ending and he shrugs, says “oh well, that’s too bad!” and he leans in to kiss even, expecting him to stop dancing, but the song just starts again. and even breathes out a laughter, says “i put it on repeat” and isak whines, tells even “i’m so bad at this”. and even shakes his head, whispers “you’re so good at this, you just need to let go. no one’s watching us, just move with me” and as he says that, his hands go down to his hips, and he starts making isak move the same way he is, and isak finally. starts moving by himself and even’s hands are simply placed on his hips, not guiding him anymore, just as a way to feel closer to him. it’s nice, moving together and kissing each other and smiling into the kisses. it’s  fun and sexy and warm and even thinks to himself that he could do this all day long, that dancing alone is nice, but it’s nothing compared to dancing with isak 

that is until even’s mom opens the door of his room, letting him know that diner was ready. and isak freezes, eyes wide, and mouths “oh my god”. and even chuckles, says “oops”. isak remains motionless, speechless for a few seconds until he lets out a little wail, buries his face against his shoulder, and he starts mumbling all sorts of things, from “i can’t believe your mom saw us dancing like that” to “this was the worst idea ever” to “i’m never dancing ever again. nope, nope, never again in my entire life”. and even simply wraps his arms around him, trying not to laugh, telling him “you’re totally dancing with me again, baby, tomorrow you’ll be dancing with me” 

they’re at a party the next day. and fy faen starts playing again, and even looks at isak wtih a grin, and isak just mouths “no”, but then even is asking sana, whom isak was hanging out with, “do you mind if i borrow him for a bit?” and sana raises an eyebrow, but her and even share a knowing smile. and isak lets out a sigh, and he actually takes even’s hand. and even kisses him softly before they start dancing, like they were yesterday, same movements, same song, and feeling like they alone in this room. and isak looks into even’s eyes and even thinks that what he loves the most about this moment is not the fact that he gets to be so close to isak and dance with him, but rather the fact that isak really seems to enjoy himself. because that spark in isak’s eyes is one of his favourite sights in the world. and when isak buries his face in his neck, he doesn’t do it because he’s embarrassed this time. he simply breathes even in, smiles against his skin 

Baking Pancakes | Zach Dempsey

Pairing: Zachary Shan-Yung Dempsey x Reader

Warning: TOO MUCH FLUFF! Almost full smut

Request: Just my imagination

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I woke up to the smell of freshly cooked breakfast downstairs. I looked at the time and saw it was 6:30am in the morning. 1 hour before class.

I stood up from Zach’s bed and put my underwear on. I grabbed his grey shirt that smelled strongly of him. I went downstairs and saw him in nothing but his boxers hanging low on his waist.

I went to him and saw that he was mixing a pancake batter, I hugged him from behind and saw the red claw marks on his back, I mentally gave myself a pat on the back.

“Hey baby.” He kissed my forehead and went back to mixing the batter.

I had other things in mind, I dipped my finger in the better and smudged it on his nose. He looked at me with excitement and a dangerously playful grin on his sexy lips.

“y/n. You did not just-” I ran from him but whats the point 3 steps later he grabbed me from the back and spun around.

“Oh my god Zachary!” I laughed so hard because he was tickling me.

“Say your sorry!” He demanded while laughing and tickling me.

“N-n-never!” I managed to wheezed out in between my laugh.

“Then I’ll never stop!” He tickled me harder this time reaching for the sides of my waist.

“Fuck! Okay okay!” I said laughing harder. “i’m sorry!” I panted while still in fits of laughter.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smiled smugly and sat me at the counter top. Good thing his sister is with his mom on a trip or else it would have been embarrassing to wake them up with the noise.

“Fuck you, Dempsey” I playfully pouted.

His eyes turned 3 shades darker and lifted me up to get a better position on the counter top,

“Tell me y/n, baby, when?” He kissed my jawline, “where?” He kissed my collarbone, “how?” And kissed me roughly on the lips.

“Right here.” I moaned.

“Now.” I gasped him grabbing my breasts and squeezing them, kissing me. He tore the shirt I was wearing and my bra top.

He sucked on my left breast, “Here, Now. Hard!” I moaned loudly.

Well, let’s just say we were late on 1st and 2nd period.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SOOOO A SEMI-ALMOST-FULL-SMUT IMAGINE LOL HAHA!

What do you guys think?

———- I LOVE YOU ALL xx

p.s REQUEST for IMAGINES is closed as of the moment. Im sorry guys. As soon as I finish writing the requests that were already sent, I’ll open it again.

I still accept ships and headcanons.

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

Give Me Love, 10

Throne Of Glass High School AU

Summary: He thinks she wants nothing to do with him. She thinks he can’t remember her. Aelin and Rowan were friends once upon a time. But high school drove them apart. However, one night - one party - is about to change not only their lives, but the lives of their friend as well.

Chapters: XXX

————————————

Saturday Evening:

“What do you think?”

Aelin stepped back from her laptop. She held out her arms slightly, showing off her outfit to Nehemia.

“Mhmmm,” Nehemia placed her head on her hand. She started tapping her chin with her finger, eyes narrowed slightly. “Get rid of the red jacket. You need something more neutral.”

Aelin shredded her red leather jacket, leaving her standing in just her white, flowy t-shirt and dark skinny jeans.

“More neutral.” Aelin repeated, throwing the red jacket on her bad as she walked over to her closet.

“Yeah. The red just seemed too much.” Came Nehemia’s voice through her laptop. “What are you and Rowan doing tonight anyways?”

Keep reading

my niece was just born and consequently my mom keeps asking if i want to hold the baby and if it makes me wish i had a baby and i continue to be as completely disinterested as i have been for the last twenty years despite her decades of insisting that i will change my mind and some of the things she says just fucking baffle me like “oh but i don’t understand, you love tiny things” mom it’s not a terrarium necklace it’s a human life