#I don't even live anywhere near where the gig was i just happened to be like near enough to be able to go
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Sooo I ended up seeing Benjamin live last night. Found out about the gig five hours before showtime lmao there was also a m&g right after the gig and I got a selfie with him 🥰
#I'm the least spontaneous person on this planet but i saw his ig story about the gig and immediately went OH I'M GOING#I don't even live anywhere near where the gig was i just happened to be like near enough to be able to go#fucking casual monday night gig at a mall lmao?#tbh mall gigs are always a bit awkward bc it's full of normies but we still had fun#i took a few videos and the sound quality is amazing but rip can't use them anywhere bc there's kids in the background#also mall lighting was downright homophobic it was so unflattering we both look horrible in the selfie 😭#personal#benjamin peltonen
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holiday doodle scene
featuring two of my ocs from the sanguine sonata, Pan and Merope, who are in a qpr relationship and like being cute together. i know christmas looks like it's spelled weird but that's because 🫧 fantasy holiday 🫧 so just ignore that and please enjoy a silly little scene i did
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"You know, this is going to be our first Cristmas together," Pan commented.
Merope lowered the romance novel she was reading, looking up at her partner from where she was laying on their lap.
"Yes, I'm aware," she said.
"Because last year, we weren't dating yet."
"I also know the timeline of our relationship."
"Ro, this is important," Pan said, the shapeshifter's golden eyes twinkling over their wide smile. "This is the last major holiday that we haven't celebrated together yet."
Merope tugged her lower lip through her teeth, pretending to think in her cream blouse and light brown high-waisted pants.
"What did you do last Cristmas again?"
"Yes, I was at your house, but that's not the point," Pan said, their pale hand still absently carding through Merope's long black hair. "Stop distracting me, cause the point is that this Cristmas we're going to do something cool."
"Like what?" Merope said absently, setting her book on the floor beside the ratty blue couch the two of them were sprawled across in the common area of the dorm they lived in. "You're already coming home with me."
"Yes, but I've already done that," Pan said, playing with one of the short braids they'd done with their white hair that day. It was tied with a light green ribbon that matched the green flannel they were wearing over their dark grey shirt and dark jeans. "So that doesn't count. We need a tradition, you know? It's almost been a year now."
"Mmhm," Merope hummed thoughtfully. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe. She'd never really thought she'd have the kind of special relationship that she'd secretly desired for so many years, and now she was coming up on almost a year of it. She'd loved Pan so much more than she'd ever thought was even possible.
"So. What do we do?"
"It's just another--"
"Here's what I'm thinking," Pan said excitedly, bouncing ever so slightly under Merope's head as their black boots tapped against the bare grey vinyl tiled floors. "We should go get a tree together."
Merope looked up at their brimming, giddy joy and opened her mouth, before changing her mind about trying to dissuade them and just chuckling softly.
"Okay. What kind of tree should we get?"
"Hm," they said thoughtfully, settling back. "I don't know. Let me think about it."
"Alright," Merope said, picking her book back up and nuzzling closer to their hand in her hair. "Let me know."
She made it through another chapter and a half before Pan said,
"Okay, what about this? A little tiny tree that we can take anywhere. It's fake though, but at least it won't die. We can keep it forever, and it won't take up any space."
Merope smiled.
"That sounds lovely."
"And we can decorate it with little paper stars and ribbons and put it in a little basket and take care of it and it'll be amazing."
"Okay," Merope said again, amused and in support of both the idea and her partner.
"Right," Pan said firmly. "I still have some money leftover from that moving gig last week. This is going to happen, darling."
"I don't doubt it."
"And every year we'll pull out the little bows and paper stars and decorate it together and that'll be our tradition, okay?"
"Okay," Merope said, dropping her book on the floor and leaning up to kiss Pan on the cheek. "I love that idea, darling. Just like I love you."
Pan put their other arm around her shoulders, their fingers still in her hair clutching her close as they kissed her fully.
"Love you too," they said softly, pulling away. Merope felt it, wrapped up tightly in their embrace.
She never felt safer than when she was in their arms, strangely. Despite the relatively short amount of time that she'd known them for, being near them like this was one of her favorite places to be.
"So a tiny tree," Merope said against their lips, her blue-green eyes sparkling with the idea.
"Mmhm," Pan said distractedly, their nails scraping comfortingly against her scalp. "A little one that we can carry everywhere we go."
"Sounds perfectly lovely."
Merope's older brother made a slight face a week later when Pan and Merope came home for the break carrying their own tree.
"You know we…have a tree, right?" He said, and pointed to the slightly ancient plastic tree that had been in the Aphelion family since he had been a child.
"Yes," Pan said gleefully, and hoisted the tiny, slightly pathetic bright pink tree decorated with light purple stars that Merope had folded and a rainbow array of tiny ribbons that they had tied. "But this is our tree. There's a difference."
Orion chuckled.
"Alright. C'mon in, then, and find a place to put that tree."
The tree ended up in Merope's room, sitting on the floor in between Merope's twin bed and the air mattress that Pan was supposed to sleep on. And Merope grinned when she woke up every morning, cradled in Pan's arms, and saw the tiny tree, their tree.
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Uchiha!Child Reader meeting the senju's and getting fascinated with their hair.
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Summary: This is apart of the uchiha princess series. Madara takes you on a trip with him to meet one of his long time friends, Hashirama and things take an unexpected turn.
Warnings: None, Just fluff!
As usual you were at the Uchiha residence, today just wandering around your house. Outside you stared at all the small wildlife, poking at the flowers and plants, clearly bored. Whilst getting lost in your thoughts you jump when you're suddenly covered by a shadow.
"Oh, grandpa!" you shout running up to him and hugging his legs. Madara smiled and picked you up in his arms, he was still strong as ever. "Whats got our little princess down?" he asks, you were never good at hiding your emotions.
Even now he can see the small frown of your face from boredom, ah, there were always those days. You weren't of age to go to school yet and often spent your time at home so it wouldn't be strange to see you get tired of it on occasions.
"mMm..it's just nothings been happening grandpa," you say with a pout. Madara chuckles, you had such an adorable voice. He softly tugged at your cheek with his fingers, "don't feel so down, I've got a surprise trip for you."
You whined at his teasing but quickly brightened at the mention of going out. "At trip? Really!?! Where!?!" you asked, practically bouncing from excitement, you and madara hadn't really gone anywhere together yet.
Madara felt himself smile more at your happiness, "we're going to meet one of my long time friends, I've told you about him before, Hashirama," he tells you as he sets you down. Ushering you towards your house to tell your mother.
Your eyes sparkle in admiration, "ohhh, you mean the man who you fought with! your equal grandpa??" you asked as you playfully skipped along back to your residence.
"Well, yes, but I'll admit he did defeat me," he responded watching you carefully as you mounted up the stairs. "No way, grandpa's the strongest!" you say gigging, running to Mikoto as she embraces you in her arms.
"Mommy Mommy!" you say as she plants kisses all over your face. "Yes?" she asks, "Grandpa is gonna take me to meet his friend!" you state to your mom. Quickly adding, "I'm big now, I can go!"
Mikoto smiles at your enthusiasm, you were quite the energetic child. "Yes yes that's fine," she affirmed, nodding towards Madara as a sign to keep you safe. Madara understood, he wasn't known as one of the strongest Uchiha for nothing.
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Arriving at the Senju residence you were in awe, it was massive! You'd heard about Madara's friend before, mainly in his story. It was a long time ago when many nations were at war, that Madara and Hashirama became friends.
They managed to strike a treaty after awhile (Madara left out the sad details because he knew you'd cry) and the rest was history. Of course, you were also excited for other reasons, Hashirama was the first hokage!!
You and Madara were instantly led inside and sat in the living room waiting. No more than a few moments later Hashirama had burst it, "madaraaaaa!!! long time no see!!" he shouted happily. Before noticing your presence.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!" you shouted, matching his energy instantly. Hashirama walk over and sat down near you, "aha! you must be the Uchiha princess!" he said. "Mhm!" you nodded giggling, and that's when you'd noticed his hair.
Your eyes instantly lit up in excitement, but you remembered that it was important to ask first. "Ummm, can I play with your hair?" you asked, fingers softly knotting themselves together in anticipation of an answer.
Hashirama laughed, "of course, you can braid it all you want, I had a grand daughter just like you ya know?" You squealed in delight and got up to start playing with his hair. It was like Madara's hair, quite long. However, it wasn't fluffy and thus, easier to put into braids.
You developed a love for hair at a young age. Probably due to when you'd used to play hide and seek all the time with your brothers. Your grandpa's hair was big enough to hide you then, and whenever you saw it you knew it was Madara, it made you feel safe.
Madara smiled, this was quite a pleasant sight to see though he wouldn't admit it warmed his heart though. It was too bad Hashirama could see through him just fine though, "thought you wouldn't ever get a grandkid staying single for that long!" Hashirama joked.
Madara scowled at him, "that grand daughter of yours is already 50 something!! look at how cute precious y/n is!" he argued. Hashirama had to admit you were very adorable, he could feel your small hands tying his hair together.
You were definitely very proud of your braids, you'd only ever done this with Itachi before and that was only in private. But looking at your grandpa now, something might be wrong. Madara was trying hard not to laugh, your braid was indeed very messy.
Hashiramas hair stuck out in different angles and you seem to have forgotten the part of his hair that'd fallen over the front of his shoulder. Leading to a very odd look, but the mood quickly shifted when a new person entered the room.
"Brother! I know you really want to spend time with Madara but nows not the time to- .." Tobirama was at a lost of words. It was truly a sight he'd never seen before, a small Uchiha looking girl that had messed up his brothers hair so much it was actually entertaining.
"Who is the kid? Another Uchiha?" Tobirama wouldn't let his amusement show though, he'd dealt with the Uchiha clan long enough and still couldn't stand them. "Be nice Tobirama, this is y/n, isn't her braiding so cute??" Hashirama asked happily.
Clearly you don't realize what you look like, Tobirama thought. "Yes yes it is great," he responds nonchalantly only to be confused by your stare of awe. You were currently admiring Tobirama's hair, it wasn't long like your grandpas or Hashiramas.
It was white! You'd never seen that before, well, besides some old people but Tobirama's was clearly different. It was a pretty and natural color like snow. Also, you may have taken a liking to that fluffy neck collar he has.
"Um..hello!" you say looking up at him. Tobirama doesn't want to waste time but glances down at you in return, "hello, what is it that you want?" Tobirama can feel both madara and hashirama glaring at him. He doesn't really know how to deal with kids though.
"Can I ask you a question?" you ask, you remembered questions of age could be considered rude awhile ago. "You just did, but go ahead," Tobirama said with a hint of annoyance. You noticed this and got sad for a moment but quickly asked away.
"Your hair is so pretty and white! It looks so fluffy! How old are you? Not that it's bad to be old! Uh wait can I touch it???" you asked, eyes pleading. Tobirama honestly felt bad for a moment seeing your expression but sighed, you were just a baby, really.
"Yes you can touch, and this is my natural hair I'm not old," he said, sitting down across Madara with Hasirama as he let you pet his hair. Truthfully he hated himself from doing this but your soft wow's, ooo's, and fascination really got to him.
"Grandpa! I like his hair the best!" you declared happily, this made Tobirama feel good. Especially when he saw Madara's expression, he didn't approve of this. However, before he could say anything you had spoken again, "wait, oops-- whats your name??"
"My names Tobirama, I'm Hashirama's brother," Tobirama added for context. Tobirama was starting to get fond of you, just a little, he won't admit it. Eventually you had to just went back to Hashirama's hair and leaving the Senju compound you were met with a sad faced Madara.
"Is my hair not your favorite..?" he asked. You had replied, "No no you're definitely in the top 3 grandpa!" You hadn't denied or confirmed, but just giggled as you ran quickly upon seeing Itachi arrive home too. What an energetic child, Madara thought.
© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.
#uchihas x reader#uchihas x child!reader#madara/reader#tobirama/reader#hashirama/reader#uchihas/reader#uchiha/child!reader#madara x reader#tobirama x reader#hashirama x reader
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Hi Joy!
I hope this doesn't come across as rude/overstepping, and it's possible you have answered this question before (i cannot find such an ask though, gotta love tumblr). But I was hoping you would be able to give some advice/explain your journey, on how a chronically-ill person looking to become a published authour, and sustain themselves on it, would go about it? From what i've seen on your blog so far, it seems like most indie authours make a pittance for their work (when it's worth so much more), and i'm curious how you're able to make it work without having a second job to supplement income? As you probably well know, it will be extremely hard to have energy to write if one is also chronically ill and having to work full time to live... i'm lucky enough to have some universal healthcare (canada), but that is about it. Also if you prefer not to publicly answer this, please feel free to message me instead! Though also feel free not answer at all, of course- i don't want to put you out. Thank you for all your advice and encouragement for your fans and followers over the years, you really are a joy!
I've posted about it before, goodness knows where it might be in my tags, but the only reason I'm able to work full time as a writer is threefold:
The generosity and support of my patrons on Patreon/Ko-fi/Payhip.
My spouse works full time.
The income I now get from my books.
If I lost any of those three things, I wouldn't be able to write full time, and even then I still take occasional editing gigs to make ends meet.
The truth is, there are very few authors who can make writing their full-time gig—at least not their fiction writing. Many authors have "day" jobs and write on top of that. I've been extraordinarily lucky in that my book sales have been enough to let me scale back my other work, but like I said, I don't make a sustainable living from it.
I'm just no longer financially sinking, which is what was happening for the 5 years in the run up to Phangs being published. Things have stabilized. They've stabilized at rock bottom, but even rock bottom can offer stability when you've been in free fall for almost a decade.
I'm sorry I can't give you more helpful advice, but this is the best known "secret" of the industry. Many authors have day jobs you'll never hear about because it's not associated with their author name.
Unless you manage to get a big book deal—and even then, trad-publishing doesn't pay remotely anywhere near as much as it did unless you're already a big name-- then you will probably be sustaining your work through some other means. I did it for years with editing and then when my blog took off, through Patreon and editing. It's only been a very new development in my life where I've been able to give up editing full-time to write my own stuff instead.
Sorry. I wish there was a secret, but there's not.
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Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:
The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist
The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.
By Adam Sachs,
Photographs by Norman Jean Roy
May 2012 Issue
"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.
"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"
We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.
On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.
"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.
Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"
But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.
"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"
Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.
To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.
Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:
Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'
Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.
Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.
Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:
Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?
Chris: Nothing wrong with that.
Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?
Chris: Looooong time.
Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?
Chris: No names, Ma!
Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.
Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.
Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.
We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.
East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.
"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."
Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.
Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.
From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.
It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.
What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"
By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."
Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.
"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"
Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.
Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"
One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."
What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."
There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."
Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."
"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."
"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.
"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."
My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"
At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"
I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"
Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."
East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.
"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."
I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."
Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."
The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"
And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."
We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."
Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."
I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."
He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"
Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?
"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"
Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:
The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist
The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.
By Adam Sachs,
Photographs by Norman Jean Roy
May 2012 Issue
"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.
"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"
We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.
On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.
"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.
Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"
But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.
"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"
Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.
To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.
Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:
Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'
Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.
Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.
Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:
Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?
Chris: Nothing wrong with that.
Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?
Chris: Looooong time.
Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?
Chris: No names, Ma!
Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.
Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.
Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.
We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.
East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.
"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."
Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.
Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.
From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.
It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.
What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"
By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."
Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.
"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"
Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.
Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"
One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."
What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."
There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."
Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."
"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."
"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.
"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."
My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"
At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"
I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"
Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."
East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.
"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."
I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."
Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."
The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"
And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."
We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."
Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."
I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."
He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"
Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?
"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"
If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!
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Janis & Jimmy
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Janis: don't plan on changing Janis: not that kind of birthday girl Jimmy: 👍 Janis: dunno why she's bothering Janis: 'less she can get Pete to fake marry her she ain't even competing Jimmy: shut up, he'd get a decent amount of song writing material outta that Jimmy: enough to consider it Jimmy: don't be giving ideas like that out for nowt Janis: so you're saying recruiters out for you but pimp/band manager is my calling Janis: cheers, keep it in mind Jimmy: can't be living off mummy and daddy forever, babe Jimmy: time's running out Janis: they're running out of kids who wanna be around them, more like Janis: you know they don't wanna be left just them and Gracie Jimmy: Give 'em the heads up and they'll have time to have a load more Janis: 💀💀💀 Jimmy: 💸💸💸 Janis: if they do, not me Janis: and all the others Janis: splitting it 10 ways makes it less impressive Jimmy: actually 💔 Janis: I know Janis: babysitting is your primary gig Janis: soz, like Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Janis: Poor, poor boy Janis: have to stick with your two Jimmy: You still ain't taken the 🐶 off me yet so it's 3 Janis: if you put 'dog dad' in your bio it's over Jimmy: saved that 💎 for the dating apps Janis: fairplay Janis: go over well with that crowd Jimmy: 🐶💕 Jimmy: gotta earn her keep somehow Janis: subtle Janis: what do you want, like Jimmy: other than 🐶💀 Janis: you love her, shut up Jimmy: bollocks Jimmy: you love her Janis: I know what I've 👀 Janis: and I've got plenty of blackmail evidence for when this all goes tits Jimmy: I know how to fake it Jimmy: tah for all the practise Janis: mhmm, 'cos you did such a top job at that Jimmy: 🥇 me Janis: Sure thing babe Janis: best bae ever Janis: fake enough for you? Jimmy: might be if you didn't mean every word Janis: Idiot Jimmy: you love me Jimmy: and you're on your way here, deny it Janis: I can't deny I'm en-route Janis: but that's like 96% because I need to hide Janis: no funny business Jimmy: I get it Jimmy: only thirsty for a fruit juice Janis: I ain't a toddler Janis: and obviously, I ain't looking for you to serve me either 🤷 Jimmy: you ain't a coffee drinker and we don't serve booze, pisshead Janis: 1. I'm gonna subtly wait for Pete to be free 2. we'll think of something Jimmy: 1. enjoy helping him close 2. he won't be thinking of owt when he's this hungover so enjoy doing that yourself an' all Janis: 🙄🙄 Janis: not entirely sure you barista boys are worth the hassle Jimmy: on you go then Jimmy: find a barman and solve all your problems Janis: no tah Janis: can't be going there Jimmy: 🎻💔🎻 Janis: it'd be like you cracking on with a miner Janis: assume your granddad was a miner Jimmy: be like me having a go on a 👻 Janis: can make that happen Janis: that kinda cool girlfriend, obvs Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Janis: find out the equipment Janis: not talking 🍆🤖s Jimmy: so I'll meet you in the cemetery or what? Jimmy: #datenight Janis: Such an emo Janis: called it and you out from day one Jimmy: Piss off Jimmy: You reckoned I wanted to suck Alex Turner's ballsack Jimmy: Indie and emo are different genres, mate Janis: It's all fringes and marding really, isn't it, mate Janis: point is, ghosts are everywhere Janis: have as much if not more luck in any house in this shithole of a town Jimmy: proper poetic you Jimmy: I smell a lyrical collab with your bf Janis: nah Janis: we both know muse is about as good as I got Jimmy: but there's no need to pass that along to Pete and have him 💔 Janis: Shut up Janis: he loves me just the way I am, and YOU'RE just jealous Jimmy: #duh Janis: if I wanted that kind of guilt-trip, I'd have stayed there Jimmy: The orchestra is raring to go here Jimmy: What more do you want? Janis: you Janis: dickhead Jimmy: I'm yours, dickhead Janis: Good Janis: I need you, like Jimmy: We don't need to be here, either of us Janis: I can't Janis: I can't be anywhere near that fucking party tomorrow Janis: it's not just because it's the usual bullshit family function either, like Janis: just Janis: nah Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: good thing I have a better idea Janis: Yeah? Jimmy: Nowt for you to do but come with me Janis: Alright Janis: obviously Janis: never gonna have better plans or better company 'round here so Jimmy: 🥇 Jimmy: come here and we'll go from there Janis: I am Janis: I'd almost forgot how long this bus took Janis: been that long, like Jimmy: you should be live tweeting Jimmy: fans love a throwback Janis: well, we both know what I should really be doing Janis: but ain't really feeling it and this bus driver is new Jimmy: 🤞 our top bloke ain't 💀💀💀 Jimmy: weren't meant to be part of the pact, like Janis: if he was on the outs, I'd have 💀 him at the wheel ages ago Janis: just that good Janis: call me the eternal optimist Jimmy: 🌹 by any other name Janis: peak romance always Jimmy: 💪🏆 Jimmy: you ain't seen nowt yet birthday girl Janis: Idiot Jimmy: 💕 Janis: do I need to bring anything Janis: not fishing for clues or nowt but could be relevant Jimmy: bring whatever you would to fuck off for a day Jimmy: we ain't coming back til its over Janis: okay Janis: just us? Jimmy: you can bring the dog if you want Janis: 😏 Jimmy: I draw the line at Pete's puppy dog eyes though Janis: 💔 Jimmy: You'll live and he's half 💀 so there ain't no challenge in smacking him down Janis: Hot Jimmy: 😏 Janis: is that my surprise? Jimmy: Do you want that to be your surprise? Janis: Yeah, I'm gonna be an accessory by admission Janis: think on, babe Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Your man of mystery bit is very unhelpful sometimes Jimmy: poor baby Jimmy: soz you can't handle being kept on your toes Janis: oh please Jimmy: What? Janis: I could run circles around you in my sleep Jimmy: go on then Janis: maybe Janis: if the plans allow time Jimmy: maybe I'll make time if it's that important to you to prove yourself, Juliet Janis: I know I don't need to prove myself to you Jimmy: 👌 Janis: fuck off Janis: you love me Jimmy: You're alright, for a rich girl Janis: I'm the best Jimmy: 🥇 or nowt babe Janis: #duh Jimmy: #youknowthedrill Janis: town is finally in sight Janis: jesus Jimmy: the new driver ain't winning me over 💔 for him Jimmy: sort it out knobhead Jimmy: 🎅 will get there before his bus, like Janis: N'awh Janis: you missed me? Jimmy: for a sec or two Jimmy: not owt to get a big head over Janis: have to work on that then, won't I Jimmy: hate for you to be bored while you're waiting for Pete to make you a drink Jimmy: gotta give you something to do Jimmy: it'll take him ages longer than two secs Janis: weird brag, mate Janis: usually the other way 'round but admire the honesty 😂 Jimmy: been a bit since I've made shit weird Jimmy: nice to know you've missed it Janis: you know Janis: keeps things interesting, you do Jimmy: Yeah Jimmy: part of the deal, like Janis: I'll renew your contract Janis: 👌 job Jimmy: tah Jimmy: might take you off the trial period for a bit Jimmy: see how you go Janis: 😏 Janis: might not hand in my notice Jimmy: won't have to get a replacement in then Janis: 💔 Janis: know how you love that Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Jimmy: keep disappointing me, you Janis: psh Jimmy: It's alright, well used to it, me Jimmy: nowt I can't handle Janis: We'll put that theory to the test when I get there Janis: 5 mins Jimmy: good Janis: thanks Janis: by the way Jimmy: you ain't opened your bath shit yet Jimmy: leave it out Janis: I've got to work on my so real surprise/grattitude some time, babe Janis: want me to fake it when I'm there Janis: alright Jimmy: that top job you reckoned I did faking it goes double for you, girl Jimmy: I ain't helping Pete close so you've got more time to piss about having a go Janis: Not how I remember it, boy Jimmy: scroll back through all your feeds Jimmy: I'll hang on Janis: admitting you're more #basic Janis: cute Jimmy: surprise! 🎉 Jimmy: happy birthday Janis: 😍😋 Jimmy: 💘 Janis: love you Jimmy: I love you Janis: I really do Jimmy: Is it my turn to act surprised or what? Janis: You can Jimmy: #kinkunlocked Jimmy: ages after I thought we'd run out Janis: just that good, baby Jimmy: I'll give you a few minutes Jimmy: deffo worth that Janis: and so generous Janis: 😩 Jimmy: too northern for that shit Janis: Nah Janis: this place has changed you Janis: 🍀💀 Jimmy: If owt's changed take your share of the blame Jimmy: 💕🔪💀 Janis: alright Janis: I ruined your life Janis: do something about it
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Reed's Point (2022)
I feel like I'm gonna have a lot to say about this one because it's my motherfuckin HOME STATE
The glitch edits are really good so far I've been so preoccupied with shitty edits in horror movies for so long I forgot there were people who can actually do it right
The acting is a little wooden but it's low budget I'll allow it
This dad is SUCH an NJ dad omg
Oh come on a big RV like that can take hitting a deer you wouldn't swerve like that you'd just hit the brakes and hope for the best
NOOOOO THAT COSTUME IS SO BAD OMGGGG
"folklore nonsense" if you are studying folklore, you don't call it nonsense
Oh okay I get it it's not the Jersey Devil it's just angry Pineys pulling a cryptid scam
Dude's right it could have easily been a bear
This girl's attitude towards journalism is gonna land her a shit gig with buzzfeed if she gets a career in her field at all
Every movie set in NJ needs a diner scene
"I've lived here my whole life" okay where'd that southern accent come from
THEIR COFFEE CUPS ARE FULL
They wouldn't close the whole road because of an accident a year ago there'd be a little shrine near where it happened and it'd be traffic as usual
"looks nice enough" as he is actively loading a rifle and leading you into the woods when you did no background checks on him
Eyyyyyy they got the origin mostly right instead of making up some bullshit to make it "extra scary"
"I don't understand why we're stopping for a rest we're almost there" uh dude you're hiking off trail it takes a lot out of someone who doesn't hike regularly
A WOLF????
OKAY LISTEN THE ONLY WOLVES I'VE EVER SEEN IN NJ WERE AT AN ENCLOSED NATURE PRESERVE I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'RE NOT COMMON ENOUGH TO HUNT
Yeah just double checked there are no wolves in the wild in NJ I remember a long time ago there were rumors of a wild wolf being spotted but I don't think it was ever confirmed
"no service" THEN HOW DID ALEX CALL YOU EARLIER FROM THE SAME AREA
Sarah's haircut somehow gets worse as the movie goes on
Y'know movies like to act like a bright moon provides good visibility in the woods at night but I lived in the woods most of my life heavy tree cover means it is dark like you cannot just wander through aimlessly with no flashlight and get anywhere of value
Again "no service" yet there's a very modern wifi powered cash register right next to them and it's a pretty busy roadway outside okay yeah this area has noooo serrrrvice why is it the interpretation of NJ is either endless cities, The Shore, or some deep south backwoods nowhereville
Okay and we have to have a crack at millennials even though these are clearly gen z kids
This is a very dedicated professor? TA? They didn't really make it clear what relation she is to these kids
SHE GOT UP AFTER THAT????
AHA IT IS PINEYS IN SUITS
*finally finds her cousin who everyone said was dead for a year* oh hey Kelsey what are you doing here
This is so bad omfg
I just looked up cast and crew there's like a single writer who's from NJ everyone else is California, Midwest, Florida, Maryland, etc. Oh and she didn't write the screenplay she just came up with the story
This movie is so bad ugh why am I still watching it
WTF WAS THAT ENDING
Side note NJ cop cars have different looking license plates they don't look like standard plates they have MUNICIPAL clearly printed on them
Bad. Sucked. Would not suffer through again.
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