l.a. is the place

When Styles returned to L.A., an idea landed. The idea was: Get out of Dodge. Styles called his manager, Jeffrey Azoff, and explained he wanted to finish the album outside London or L.A., a place where the band could focus and coalesce. Four days after returning from the movie, they were on their way to Port Antonio on Jamaica’s remote north coast. At Geejam, Styles and his entire band were able to live together, turning the studio compound into something like a Caribbean version of Big Pink. They occupied a two-story villa filled with instruments, hung out at the tree-house-like Bush Bar, and had access to the gorgeous studio on-site. Many mornings began with a swim in the deserted cove just down the hill. Life in Jamaica was 10 percent beach party and 90 percent musical expedition. It was the perfect rite of passage for a musician looking to explode the past and launch a future. The anxiety of what’s next slipped away. Layers of feeling emerged that had never made it past One Direction’s group songwriting sessions, often with pop craftsmen who polished the songs after Styles had left.
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.

Jim Morrison, magician, by Frank Bez. 

A women’s magazine, and I think it might have been Ladies Home Journal, one of those really straight-laced places, had written an article about him. They’d done an interview, and he had mentioned to them that he had a way of talking to girls that just made them levitate. So that was the assignment: Shoot him with a levitating girl.

When we got together, he said, “I haven’t got a clue how to do it.” So I said, “I know some guys. Maybe they can help us.”

There’s a place in L.A. called the Magic Castle. It’s what you’d call a mansion, up in the hills in Hollywood. It’s a club for magicians. So I came up and said, “Can you direct me to someone who specializes in levitation?” They put me in touch with a guy, and he said, “Well, I’ll tell you how to do it, but I’ll kill you if you tell anyone else.”

Here’s what I did: I had to build a rig to do this shot. It was a steel-constructed device. I had to go to a welding shop and fit it behind Jim. It projected out in front of him, and there was a platform with a pad, which I put the model on. We got this really straight-laced Middle America type, and we had her floating in front of him with his hands.

He was a little skeptical when we did the levitation thing, because he felt he was pushed in the corner for making that comment. But once we solved the problem, he was into it. He was more outgoing, and I never saw the difficult part of his life because we just had good times.

Home (Grayson)

• ALWAYS • A Grayson Dolan one-shot series.

You laid flat on Grayson’s side of the bed burying your face in his pillow. There was something so comforting about the scent of him even when he wasn’t with you. You inhaled deep and tried to calm your shaky breaths. You had been crying on and off all day. You had your fair share of bad days but today had been the worst. Your boss yelled at you for some missing paperwork you had forgotten to fill out last week. It was an honest mistake but she hadn’t given you the time to explain that. Your job was now on the line and there was little to nothing you could do to change it. It was days like these that you just wanted to run back home and re-think everything. That’s when the tears began to fall from your eyes. Home. You missed everything about it. The small-town people, your family, friends, even your old crappy job at the gas station. At least things were familiar there. You were now stuck in L.A. a city based on nothing but superficial beauty and view and like counts. You picked up your phone and swiped over your mom’s name. It rang three times before her voice filled your ears. 


“What happened, baby?”

She knew instantaneously. It was crazy how in tune she was to your thoughts and feelings even when you were miles apart.

“Everything happened, Mom.” Your voice broke. “I can’t handle this anymore. It’s so hard being away from you, the rest of our family, all my old friends, even our dog.”

“Oh honey.” She sighed. “What about Grayson? I mean of course you know you’re welcome home whenever you want but you need to talk to him about this. It’s a decision he should be a part of.”

Keep reading

Blind Date

Pairing: Chris Pratt x Reader

Author: @star-pratt

Words: 8055

Author’s Note: So, @mf-despair-queen and I were talking about Dylan and Chris on motorcycles and decided to write something with it. Although the fics are different, the do link together in plot/ Make sure you check hers out, cause it’s amazing!


Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs


I’ve had a history of terrible dates, so much that I haven’t gone on a proper date in almost two years. There were a few where they stood me up and a few where they were just plain awful, clearly only wanting sex from me. Living in L.A. is basically the worst place to date, because most of guys I’ve met are egotistical assholes, who only care about themselves.

Keep reading

birdlovesafish  asked:

May I request a Photographer Jughead and a Modeling to pay her way through college Betty fic pretty please? With Betty becoming Jug's muse?

Girls On Film: Part 1

Summary: After insulting every major supermodel in the business, world renowned fashion photographer, Jughead Jones, is paired with up-and-coming model, Betty Cooper. 

Words: 2,966

Warnings: Swearing and drinking. 

A/N: I know nothing about the modelling/photography world. Most of my knowledge comes from America’s Next Top Model. I’m really sorry this is so long. Also, I have nothing against any of the models mentioned in this story. 

Part 2 is here. This is also on AO3

I also edited this myself so prepare for errors. 


“Cara cancelled.” Veronica Lodge informed her boss Jughead Jones.

“Why?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He looked at a variety of different lenses with his assistant photographer, Sabrina Spellmen, a tiny, blonde wannabe photographer.

“She found out you were the one shooting and pulled out.” Veronica gathered her dark brown hair into a ponytail, faking nonchalance as she waited for more questions from the world most sought after fashion photographer.

“Why would she do that?” He questioned, handing Sabrina suitcases full of equipment. “We took such beautiful pictures together.” He lied.

“She doesn’t really remember it that way.” Veronica crossed her jean clad legs, letting her foot bounce. “She remembers a large argument where you called her ‘a fucking brain dead meat sack with a pretty face’ and she told you to go fuck yourself and then you called her a cunt.” Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember that, Jug? Cause I do and apparently so does Cara and she didn’t take so kindly to it.”

He placed his clenched fists on the table. “I asked her to look wistful and I asked her if she knew what that meant and she nodded.” He turned to look at Veronica. “And instead of wistful, I got constipated. Thank god she’s beautiful and I could salvage the shoot.” He pulled on his suspenders as he walked around his bright living room. “How about instead of giving the models free clothes at the end of each shoot we hand them a fucking dictionary.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Its bullshit, they go on about my temper but does anyone say anything about their mediocrity? Just because they are hot doesn’t mean they are models. We aren’t just selling clothes, we are selling a lifestyle and if I can’t get girls who can take direction then I can’t do my job.” He untied his flannel button down from around his waist, discarding it on the bed. “I need girls with fire in their eyes.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you are getting today but I’ve heard good things.” Veronica stood up and pulled out a portfolio. She placed it on the coffee table and pushed it over to him. “She walked the runway for Dolce and Gabanna, Elie Saab and Dior last season.”

“I don’t give a shit about runway.” He snapped approaching her.

“She’s a former ballerina but she quit because she was too tall.”

“How tall?”

“Six feet and because she used to dance she’s very flexible and good with her body.” Veronica informed.  “She’s done editorial in Vogue, Elle, W and Paper Magazine.”  

“Let me see her face.”

Veronica moved out of the way and let him browse the portfolio. The first thing Jughead noticed was her body, you could tell how tall she was without scale and Veronica was right, she knew how to move and pose it. The only problem was the photographers didn’t know to photograph her properly. They made her look awkward and gangly.

He turned the page to see a shot of just her face. Her blonde hair was slicked back and she had honey running down her face, dripping off her eyelashes and mouth. She had a strong jaw line, cheekbones that most models would die for, pouty lips, and green-blue eyes that looked like that were churning in the still image.

That is what he wanted. That was fire.

“What’s her name?” He asked.

“Elizabeth Cooper,” Veronica said looking at her nails.

“And we have her?” Jughead moved away from the table and grabbed his bag.

“She is on site right now in hair and make-up, waiting for you.” Veronica packed everything up realizing they were about to leave. Sabrina was piling bags and boxes up near the door.

“This is what I’m talking about.” He pointed at the portfolio. “Finally a model I can actually work with.” He grabbed his sunglasses and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I should start calling people cunts more often, this really worked out for me.” He grinned.

“I really wish you wouldn’t.” Veronica muttered, as the three of them left his house and headed to the site.

Keep reading

Grey's anatomy spin-off

So what about a spin-off in which Jackson and April, after getting married again, decide to move out with Harriet in L.A. The plot would take place 5 years later, with them being at the head of a center recently bought by The Avery Foundation: the Seaside Wellness Center.
And yes I’m talking about that one from Practice Practice. And all of our favorite doctors would be there: Addison, Cooper , Charlotte, Naomi, Sam… and even Amelia, Owen and their future children!

So what do you think ? Who would watch this spin-off? 😜

“Nice to Meet You”

Alex Ernst x Reader 

request: do you do alex ernst imagines? can you do one where the reader is an up and coming youtuber and she’s visiting LA to see if she wants to move there and she meets alex?




    As you boarded your plane at 2:00 a.m, you hugged your family and home-town friends goodbye. You had visited L.A so frequently to hang out with people you had met or to audition for commercials, ads, movies, and separate things, but at the moment, you were focusing on your career as a youtuber, you decided to Check out L.A as a place to live, permanently.

    You weren’t some hot shot youtube star with 1 million subs, but you were close, with 750,000 people were bound to recognize you, especially in a place like Los Angeles. You were staying with your close friend Y/F/N who recently moved to L.A but wasn’t anyone famous, once you heard first class being called you knew it was time for you to board, You hugged your family one last time and grabbed your bags while reaching in your wallet to grab your ticket. 


    As you walked out of the airport, your legs were shaking, the warm climate was nothing like you were used to, sure, it got hot where you lived, but nothing even close to this, it was almost comfortable but something made the air taste different. Pulling down your sunglasses, you walked over to the car where your best friend was waiting. 

“Hey! ready to go?” 

    Your friend asks with such excitement, they pull out a list with stuff they want to do while your there, and you roll your eyes, you knew something like this would happen, considering Y/F/N was so organized all the time, unless it came to their room. 

“Let’s get this show on the road”

You laughed hopping into the passenger side of the car, headed towards downtown L.A.


You got out of the car and instantly heard the sound of millions of people talking, some recording, others yelling at random people on the street, it reminded you of New York, a place you wanted/had to visit so many times.

    You pulled out your vlog camera and started talking, this was normal for downtown Los Angeles, it was the center of youtubers, you probably passed about 10 people holding video cameras, you talked to your fans about possibly living in L.A and if they saw you to come up and ask for a photo 

“Don’t be shy”

were your words exactly. 

   As you were telling your camera about some really exciting differences you’ve seen between your home city and L.A, you bumped into a stranger causing your camera to drop to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry” 

   The stranger said, picking up the camera and placing it back in your hands. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m new in downtown L.A, better watch where I vlog next time”

    You laughed wiping the dirt of the camera previously placed in your hand, you looked into the strangers eyes and noticed how inviting they seemed, after an awkward moment of staring he coughed and said

“I’m Alex, you Mentioned you were new here?” 

“Yeah, just arrived, and I’m y/n” 

     You shook his hand, and he told you to wait, he pulled out a black sharpie and flipped your hand onto it’s back, exposing your palm. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, leaving the cap between his lips, he wrote his number on the palm of your hand, and told you…

“If you need anything call, I’m Alex, once again” 

    He added for the second time, winking and walking away, and as you watched his figure disappear in the crowd you turned to your friend saying…


“I think I’m going to like it here”

She’s Every Woman

Pairing: none specified - you choose!

Word Count: 760 (including lyrics)

Warnings: fucking cavities, dude.

A/N: A little drabble written based on the song She’s Every Woman by Garth Brooks


She’s sun and rain
She’s fire and ice
A little crazy, 
but it’s nice

He watched her sleeping, her hair forming a halo around her face and shoulders, fanned out across the pillow. It’d been a long time since he slept, but tonight was the first night he enjoyed missing out on rest, just watching her muscles twitch, her eyeballs moving behind her closed lids, and the gentle sound of her breathing as her chest rose and fell was like a song to his ears.

She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake, just curled closer into him. He’d never understand how she could go from this gorgeous, ravenous, unpredictable hunter during the day to such a sweet and kind, perfectly untainted angel at night. 

And when she gets mad
You best leave her alone
‘Cause she’ll rage
Just like a river
And she’ll beg you 
To forgive her
Oh, she’s every woman
That I’ve ever known.

His mind shot back to the first time they’d kissed. He took her by complete surprise, his mind and heart racing with adrenaline post-hunt. They almost died. Their lives were too damn short, too dangerous to risk not spending every minute he could with her by his side, as his woman. 

She drew back and her fist connected with his jaw when their lips broke away from one another’s, cursing him, ‘how dare you’s’ flying through the empty night air as people watched on in both horror and shock. Blood spattered her face and hair, but she was beautiful. He laughed while she stormed out to the car.

When he found her, propped against the hood, arms folded over her chest while she looked at her feet, she was crying. Her apologies came out in sobs, tears streaming down her face while she asked him over and over again for his forgiveness, that she didn’t mean to punch him, it just happened. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest while he calmed her down, told her she had nothing to be sorry for, that he could take a hit, but he’d trained her well, because damn it, that hurt. 

Looking up at him with a new sparkle in her eyes, she giggled lightly and smacked her hand against his chest, rolling her eyes. That was the night they both figured, why not? Why not give it a try? They were together all the time anyway, sometimes posing as a married couple if the job required it, and there was no denying that either one of them was attractive enough. 

She was like no other woman he’d ever met before, and somehow, all of them compiled together in the perfect package, wrapped up in a bow. She was caring, loving, would do anything for him and everyone he loved. But she was so… different.

Her instincts took over on a hunt, slicing and dicing the things that go bump in the night without a second thought. She was a force to be reckoned with. But he could handle it. 

She’s so New York and then L.A.
And every town along the way
She’s every place that I’ve never been
She’s makin’ love on rainy nights
She’s a stroll through Christmas lights
And she’s everything I want to do again 

It amazed him how she could just take on the persona of any person she’d come in contact with. Once, they had to go check out a college after sixteen people turned up dead with scars along their arms. She fit right into the sorority scene, despite the fact that she couldn’t stand those girls. 

The rain reminded him of her in every way. It came quietly, always calm before the biggest storm hit. But when it rained, it poured. Nothing about her was subtle. If she was happy, she was beaming. If she was angry, she was on fire. And if she was upset, hurt, lonely, everyone in the room felt it. 

Every new memory with her became one he wanted to relive again and again until the day he died.

It needs no explanation
‘Cause it all makes perfect sense
For when it comes down to temptation
She’s on both sides of the fence 

She was everything he’d ever wanted… and everything he never wanted. This wasn’t what hunters did, not the life they deserved. But here she was, beautiful, glowing, carrying his child, tempting him to step away from the only thing he’d ever been good at. 

So he did. For her - the only woman that he’d ever really known.


Keep reading

2

I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t have a lot of hobbies. It’s not because I don’t have interests, it’s just that I don’t have the time. Sitting around playing chess or playing golf, you know, going and climbing the canyons of L.A. and doing nature hikes and stuff like that—there’s so many things I would like to do, but I have my daughter. I have to go home and it’s crucial that I spend time with her. There’s not a lot of me-time between the traveling back and forth every week, almost, between L.A. and New York or some other place.

Music Shop

Prompt: Imagine Gerard taking you to a local record shop in New Jersey

I tried to make this an entire one shot but I got lazy because I woke up at 5am and spent two straight hours thinking about Dan and Phil

Genre: Just pure fluff to be honest


“Y/N… I know that this new school is difficult for you,” My mom paused, a pitiful look in her eyes, “but just remember that you can always talk to me, right?”

I nodded, a fake smile plastered on my face, “Sure, mom.”

My mom stood up, a look of resounding success on her face, like she had won the argument. “Good talk. Also, Donna wanted me to tell you that she would love it if you and her son could talk to each other more.”

Stifling a laugh, I played along. “Why’s that?”

She hummed, “I suppose they think that Mikey could use more friends. I think the same about you but…” Mom trailed on absently.

“Well then. I think we got that squared away. But honestly consider it, okay? I think you and the Way boy could be good friends,” she said happily, closing the door behind her with a resolved click.

To my mother’s dismay, Mikey wasn’t the Way brother that I was more interested in. I let out a sigh of relief, turning towards the wardrobe. “She’s gone. You can come out now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Gerard pushed open the doors, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Close one, huh?”

I scoffed, “It wouldn’t have to be close if you could be quiet.”

“Whatever… So how’s your famed school integration coming along? Got your schedule yet?” Gerard asked, sitting next to me on the bed and pulling his leg up to his chest.

“No. I’ll get it tomorrow though,” I muttered with an air of bitterness laced around the edges.

The dark haired teen offered me a sympathetic smile, “Listen, I remember you said you missed your music shop back in L.A, right?” I nodded, “Well It’s not exactly around the block but Michelle’s place is pretty close by and she’s got all the latest shit. I might be able to get you an album or two for free if you can convince me.” He said with a cheeky grin.

I gasped, gleeful realization sweeping over me. I threw my arms around Gerard’s shoulders, giggling excitedly like a goddamn schoolgirl.


“Hey, Michelle! You here?” Gerard called out inside the empty shop. Soon a woman with frizzy dark hair, dark skin, and brown eyes emerged from the room behind the desk.

The store was small, containing a main room  that only featured a few rows of albums and records, a restroom with a sign that missed a few letters, and a back room where Michelle appeared from.

She smirked, resting her hand against the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer. Who’d you drag along this time?”

“Nobody, actually. Y/N wanted to come.” He said with his hands in his pockets, eyes wandering over the album covers.

Michelle raised an eyebrow, “Damn. You found a girl who has a taste like yours?” Gerard nodded. “Well you found yourself a keeper, Way. So keep her.” Michelle said before disappearing behind the counter, shouting something along the lines of “opening the new shipment”

“So… How many others?” I asked tentatively, stepping closer to the rack of CD’s.

“Not as many as you think, I’ll give you that. The most recent one was about a month or two ago. She had to move to fucking Canada and knew that those long distance relationships never work,” Gerard spoke like it didn’t really matter as he flipped through the records in the other part of the store.

“Gotcha…” I was severely bothered by his ease for some reason, despite not knowing Gerard for long. It wasn’t like we were dating or anything like that. I had only moved in a week ago.

All thoughts of confusing jealousy evaporated as my eyes fell on a certain picture. Buried underneath another stack of Ramones cds laid an art cover that I instantly recognized just by the corner of the plastic.

“No way, you’ve got Siamese Dream?” I beamed, clutching the album. Gerard looked shocked, walking over to me with a dorky grin spreading on his lips, “You like Smashing Pumpkins?” I nodded eagerly, tucking the CD under my arm to fish around for money in my back pocket when Gerard pulled my hand back.

“I said I’d pay for it, right?” He chuckled, waving a few dollars in his hand.

“No, you said you’d pay for it if I convinced you. And what have I done to do that?”

Gerard hummed, “Y/N, you like Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana, you’ve already impressed me.”


Jesus that was a drabble wasn’t it

Can someone just fucking kill me already my writers block is STILL HERE

Tag List:

@pink-samurai-glitter @kimine8 @mcrxreader @jet-black-hair @thisisn’tactuallyatagimfuckingwithallofyouhahahahaaprilfoolsmothafuka

anonymous asked:

I am not beginning to see two things. (1) Why Sam called LA a "necessary" evil. (2) Why Sam said he did the LA scene for a couple of weeks, and then had to "get the fuck out of there". Money or not, I can't see Sam (or Cait) wanting to choose that life or wanting to live in that environment. I think small hits (for the weather/food) would be fun, but the lifestyle just doesn't seem to fit either of them. Do you see them choosing Europe base after OL finishes?

I can see them using L.A. as needed and either keeping a home base in Europe or a place like New York where there is less of a Hollywood vibe. Much will depend on where their careers take them and where they are in their personal lives.

We Meet Again Pt. 2

Over You

(Continuation of: http://gilinskysukulele.tumblr.com/post/136286872789/you-and-jack-have-been-dating-for-3-years-and-you )

A/N: Wrote this awhile ago but never posted it. Enjoy the drama that is about to unfold my loves :) Requests are now open. xx 


Something about today just made me feel different. Or maybe I’ve felt this way for a while now. Whatever it was, I liked it. I felt in control. I felt like I was me again. Nothing could change that. Not even Jack Gilinsky.

It’s been over a year since we broke up and since I caught him cheating on me with Madison. I cringe at the image of them together in our bed. But this whole experience made me realize that he was holding me back. I spent so much time worrying about what Jack wants or what Jack needs. When I should have been worried about what I wanted and what I needed. And what I needed back then was to get as far away from him as possible. And what I want right now is for that to stay that way for a long time.

We haven’t spoken since that day. Well, that’s not true. The last time I spoke to him was when I went over to our apartment with Sammy to get all of my things. It wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted I know that for sure. It was more of “here’s what I’m taking and here’s what you can keep.” Then handing him a list and emphasizing that he should be happy to be keeping our California King sized bed. I still remember Sammy trying his best not to laugh at Jack’s dumbfounded expression. Sammy’s laugh reassured me that I was going to be okay. And I was. He was a big part of helping me get over Jack.  

Well after some awkward exchanges and Jack begging me to stay, I managed to get all of my stuff back. And that was the last time I ever saw him. Sammy sees him all the time, but that’s because they’re childhood friends. I did ask Sammy to not share any information about my whereabouts with him. After all, he didn’t deserve to know at least that.

I started living with Sammy at his request because he felt like I would distance myself from him because of the fact that him and Jack were still friends. To be honest, I’m glad he convinced me to stay with him because I would have left everyone behind in search of a new beginning. But Sammy still made that possible. It did not take long for me to forget about Jack.

The only way I could let go of what happened was if I forgave him. And I did. I realized that I was more hurt over the fact that he chose someone else over me. I figured it was a girl thing. When a guy cheats on you, you start wondering about yourself and what made him come to this point. And what was the reason that made him cheat on you in the first place. Was it your hair? Your eyes? Did I not have big breasts? Was my butt not big enough? Was it my smile?

Then I remembered that I was questioning myself over a guy. I wasn’t created to be that “girl” that he wanted. I was created to be the girl I wanted. The girl I was comfortable with. The girl that made me happy; someone independent and intelligent. I was perfect for me. And just like that I was over him.

Everything exciting happened when I started dating Sammy.

We started going on dates way before we actually started calling them that. Everyone assumed we were together because we lived together. And eventually it just became that way. I found out Sammy liked me from his best friend Anastasia. She spilled everything to me much to Sammy’s dismay. But I fell for him the moment I noticed all the little things. He went out of his way for me. Sort of what I did for Jack, only difference is that I would go out of my way for Sammy. And then everything fell into place.

Living together became a sleepover every day. We would go out to eat or stay in and cook. Movie nights or movie days. He’d even come to work with me on his day offs and my best friend Lindsey and I loved having him with us. He definitely had a sense of fashion once he got over his bleached hair and helped us a lot when it came to putting together blog ideas. But he was just full of joy, he lit up every room he walked in. And I finally felt like I was somewhere good.

“Hey babe, Lindsey called. She said she tried to get a hold of you for ten minutes now. Where’s your phone?” Sammy yelled from outside of our room.

“What? I can barely hear you,” I yelled back from the closet.

He followed the trail of my voice and found me sitting on the floor. “Lindsey’s been calling you, where’s your phone?” He repeated, chuckling at me on the floor doing my makeup. “Why are you on the floor? You do have a chair for a reason.”

Since Sammy and I started dating, we decided to get a house. The apartment will forever be missed but it was time to expand and he was someone I was willing to do it with. The closet I was currently in was a walk in closet, which was why there was always yelling in this house. It had to be my dream home. Black and White everything with some pink here and there in the closet and everything that was mine. Sammy on the other hand chose blue for his things. It was the most agreeable and cutest décor I’ve ever seen.

“I was plucking my eyebrows because there were one or two hairs that grew back and I couldn’t see sitting down on the chair. So I sat here and ended up getting lazy,” I lost my train of thought as I finished my eyeliner and moved on to mascara.

“So you stayed on the floor? What am I going to do with you?” He laughed and reached over to the vanity grabbing the phone.

“I didn’t hear it ring,” I looked up at him innocently. But I lied. If I pretended I didn’t hear my phone, then that would buy me extra time.

Lindsey and I were having our typical girls’ night or day because it was around lunchtime. We never planned anything on these little adventures of ours, only to get dressed and then find somewhere random that we’ve never been to and go eat there. Then we’d do whatever we wanted after that. I mean you’re never too young or old to explore and L.A. was the place to do it.

I always thought that’s what made us different from everyone else. We were still the biggest kids at heart. And it was the biggest kids who had the biggest hearts.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said sarcastically. “Hey it’s going to be kind of windy out tonight, there might be a storm. I told Lindsey to make sure you guys don’t get too wild tonight.” He sat behind me and watched me do my makeup in the mirror.

“Thanks babe,” I managed to say with my mouth open as I finished my mascara. I heard Sammy laughing behind me. “I try my best not to make the face okay.” Sammy continued to laugh. He didn’t understand how there was always the mouth gaping expression girls made when doing their mascara. As much as you try to hide it from your boyfriend, you find yourself doing it. I mean this might be the only way your mascara comes out perfectly.

“What are you wearing tonight babe?” Sammy wrapped his arms around my waist behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder, watching as I put on lipstick.

“Probably the new top I bought which would be perfect for this weather.” I pointed at the black long sleeve that covered my chest but exposed a good portion of my back.

“You’re going to look so cute,” his sound was muffled as he dug his face into my shoulder and I let out a small laugh at how he was trying to distract me. “Y/N some of the boys are coming over later. Nate said he’s going to come over in a bit because Lindsey is going to be with you,” he whispered.

“Just please make sure Nate doesn’t get drunk again and start making out with the furniture. He used my favorite lipstick!” I exclaimed. That was a night I’ll never forget. Nate tried to convince me that it was definitely his color, but it wasn’t and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. When you had a few glasses of wine and it’s 2 am, everything just seems funnier even when it’s not. Like Nate wearing my lipstick and getting it all over the pillows. That was the best night ever. He still denies it. And that was just last week.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into your makeup,” Sammy giggled.

“How did he even know where to look?” I laughed with him.

“Honestly, I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”

I got up only to see Sammy still holding onto me like a little kid. I tried shaking him off but it only made him hold on tighter. RING

 

“Sammy go get the door! I’m not dressed! And if it’s Lindsey say I’m like down the street or something, she’s going to kill me if I’m not done!” I ran to the chair grabbing the black long sleeved.

“No fair. I was waiting for you to get changed! I’m not going until you change,” he winked at me.

RING

“Sammy! GO!” I yelled at him to go.

“Come here,” he pulled me in for a quick kiss. His lips were always warm and welcoming, even if it was just for a second. And he always tasted like strawberries. I grabbed him again as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I held his face pushing myself on him.

RING

He pulled away giving me a quick peck on my forehead as the doorbell interrupted us. I laughed noticing he was smothered in lipstick.

I quickly took off my robe and put on the long sleeved shirt. Then grabbed a pair of light washed ripped skinny jeans and put them on worrying about if Lindsey would come upstairs and throw a fit because I wasn’t done. Or maybe it was Nate. I prayed that it was Nate.

I grabbed a pair of black heels and sat down on the chair of my vanity to hook them up. I folded my jeans satisfied with how cute everything looked. I wiped off the lipstick and reapplied to look a bit more put together and not like I just made out with my boyfriend. I imagined Nate or Linds laughing when they saw him. But he would be too clueless to realize. I opted for a matte red instead of my usual pink. It suited my olive skin tone, but so did the red. I grabbed a diamond choker and quickly hooked the back of it. I put some diamond studs on and took my curlers out, spraying some hairspray. Standing in front of the mirror, my outfit was perfect.

All that was left was to run downstairs and hope that Lindsey did not try to kill me.

 

           “Y/N! Lindsey keeps texting me for you to hurry up!” Sammy yelled from downstairs.

“Calm down I’m finished,” I made my way down the stairs then quickly opening my purse and throwing my lipstick in. Looking up, my eyes met with a familiar pair of dark brown eyes.

“Y/N,” he said almost breathless, but so was I.

“Jack,” I managed to let his name escape my mouth.

1. There’s a place in L.A. called “The Museum of Broken Relationships” where you can leave things that remind you of him. Lie on the floor for as long as you have to if your very breathing does. That’s okay.

2. When the next boy calls you beautiful, agree but then add that you’re more than that, as you’re also brave and that you know how to survive.

3. Make the habit of demonstrating what dangerous means.

4. Nothing could ever scare someone who truly loves you.

5. And remember that nothing could ever scare you now too.

—  Irally Cariaso
#195 - For anonymous x3

Filling the prompts “a fic about travelling to Llandudno by yourself and you take your dog and end up being lost and Vans visited his parents and sees that you look lost and he wants to see ya dog and you’re looking for the beach and he takes you there and end up staying with him for hours leading to whatever else etc.” and “the girl is dogsitting for a friend and walks the dog on a kinda dreary day so nobody else is really outside and of course van notices the dog, but before he can say anything, the girl starts kinda dancing and singing along to the music playing in her headphones because she assumes no one is around.” and “one in which the girl took her dog to the park and it plays with little Mary and that’s how she and Van meet?”

Note: Van doesn’t live in Llandudno anymore. I don’t know if Mary and Bernie do. I don’t think so. We’re gonna pretend that they do, for the sake of this fic.


Llandudno was not the type of location you would have picked for a holiday. There were a couple of historical tourist type places, but none of them were even remotely of interest to you. It boasted the longest pier in Wales and you remembered something about a weird Victorian festival thing that had given you the creeps as a kid. Mostly, it was rainy weather and gossip and beach. But, you weren’t really on holiday. You were housesitting for your uncle and aunty, and the only reason you’d agreed to do that was because they had dogs you’d get to look after too. Two border collies and you were absolutely in.

The brown and white one was named Noel and the black and white was Liam. Liam was more moody than Noel, so you’d always thought their names were mixed up as puppies. It wasn’t until you were about sixteen that you even began to appreciate their names at all. Years later, walking them through the town on the way to a dog park, you took great joy in talking to them in Oasis lyrics. Liam kept pulling on his collar and glaring at you. 

“Don’t look back in anger, friend!” you called to him and chuckled to yourself. Genius. You stopped on a corner and looked around. Wait. You were definitely not where you thought you were. Noel and Liam sat at your feet. "Huh,“ you started talking to them again. "What is the story, morning glory?” you asked them. “Where are we?”

Keep reading

A Son’s Burden - Most Wanted Dave Reyes Fanfic.

#Choicescreates Round 9

Prompt: Mothers

Book: Most Wanted

Rating: T

Pairing: None

Hosted by @punexpectedly

[A little note: I kept toying with this idea but I didn’t know how to go about it at first. Most Wanted isn’t the most covered fiction in playchoices but it is a fan favorite for a lot of people. Like my other Most Wanted fic, I wanted to approach this with tentative caution. In any case this was the only idea that kept sticking out to me. It was heart wrenching to write.]

[Summary: In a city filled of lost souls, L.A. is a beacon for the troubled and the lost. But for Dave Reyes on Mother’s Day it’s a reminder as to why he’s still stuck in the same place he’s always been.]


L.A. Los Angeles. El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reyna de los Angeles del Rio Porciuncula. Whatever people preferred to call it; they all meant the same thing. The city that belonged to lost angels. Drifted souls. People who wandered aimlessly for something they believed was missing.

Keep reading