#and every tattoo artist i have met became an artist COS THEY LOVE GETTING TATTOOS

[catfishofoldin99colours]

Stupid thing to fixate on but it's so I don't spiral tonight

'tattoo artist Steve who loves tatts but is terrified of the needles so just does art instead' ohmygod ohmygod ohhhhh. My god. Oh my goooooood. Have you ever met a tattoo artist. In your life. I'm gonna guess no.

[bodiedbyteecosplays]

Modern!Human Hantengu Brothers headcanons

Heeeyyyy babiesss!!! I’m sorry it’s so late but I FINALLY GOT MY HANTENGU BROTHERS HEADCANONS DONE 🥹🥹!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy them!

Alright so, The headcanon came from the roots in the manga. Hantengu (the demon) was known to have multiple wives and children and he killed every last one of them. After Muzan’s defeat & Hantengu was reborn, he sadly abandoned his wife and his two children because he still had his memories from his past life and felt guilt & fear. His son grew a bit of resentment for him and promised that when he became a father that he would be there for his children through and through. He met the Brothers’ mother because she was visiting Japan from Nigeria and fell absolutely head over heels in love with her. They soon started dating after getting to know each other. Then married later on and their first born son, Sekido was born, then came Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi , & Zohakuten.

Their Mother, Dr. Kehinde Adeyinka- Hantengu is a OBGYN & their father Urami Hantengu is a co director for a very big movie production company. ( my boys came from riches but still humble )

Their parents come from different cultures so they always brought them up in a way where they were exposed to both equally. They know Japanese (that does include how to write in Japanese too), Yoruba, Nigerian Pidgin, English, and Swahili.

SEKIDO

• Much like his past life, Sekido still remains the oldest. His birthday is September 3rd, 1995 making our angery baby a Virgo ♍️.

• When I tell yall he is nonchalantttt!! Whew! He literally says the first thing that comes on his mind. His mom always told him that he was like his father in that regard.

• Also much like his past life, he always looks angered (Resting bitch face go brrrrrrr) Most people are kinda afraid to approach him.

• Definitely gets annoyed by his brothers antics (mostly Urogi and Karaku playing pranks on him and pissing him off and Aizetsu constantly second guessing himself)

• Loves the rain and finds it peaceful when it’s thundering outside.. it sets the mood when he’s by himself playing the piano (one of his hidden talents)

• He works as a Auto mechanic at his own shop. (which explains how he knows to keep his cars in perfect condition)

• He is most DEFINITELY a cat person. He has a Black Maine coon mix named Zeus. He found him just laying on top of one of his cars one day as he was getting ready to go get groceries and when he came back from the store, he was sitting in front of his apartment and he started growing fond of him and took him in. Zeus is spoiled rotten so I can only imagine when Sekido gets a partner 🫠.

• Is a greeeeeaaaaattttt cook! Other than their mother, his brothers usually latch on to his place when he does cook. (He definitely has a special apron on when he cooks too) He learned from his momma 🤩

• Has a giant dragon tattoo on his back that was drawn by Zohakuten and tattooed by Managi (Modern Human Gyokko. In my headcanon, he’s a famous Tattoo artist that grew fame from TikTok)

• Definitely is a Heavy sleeper but don’t let that MF Fan Turn off. He gonna wake up PISSED.

• Academically speaking, Sekido is extremely intelligent. He graduated top of his class in High school & has a degree in Engineering (he also graduated top of his class in college too)

• BLACK COFFEE ADDICT! Can’t stand overly sweet coffee or sweet ANYTHING. Likes really savory foods! Lots of meat but not too too much. Also loves vegetables, stews, curry’s, and etc. The only thing he can tolerate that relates to sweet foods is dark chocolate.

• Definitely the type to go to bed by 10 pm (grumpy old man 😂😂)

• LISTEN! My baby is BUILTTTTTTT. He definitely hits the gym after work He’ll OCCASIONALLY go with Karaku if he doesn’t have to work. He’s also tall (he’s 6’3 1/2 and the tallest out of the brothers)

• He adores his family and anyone he deems close although he does get annoyed with their shenanigans he will always and forever care.

• y’all know that bath & body works scent “ Mahogany Teakwood” yeah, literally smells like that plus Shea butter & mint.

KARAKU

• Karaku is the second Born like his past carnation. He was born on October 4, 1996 making him a Libra baby.

• He’s literally a big kid at heart but he’s really chill and down to earth.

• Much like his past life he’s really playful and loves a good thrill. It makes his blood pump lol.

• Loves teasing his brothers (mostly Sekido and Aizetsu) One time he played a prank on Sekido while he was asleep by putting a realistic looking robotic spider on him (poor Seki has arachnophobia 🥲) & when he woke up all hell broke loose and when he finally caught Karaku, he put him in a chokehold and it took Urogi and Aizetsu to get him off of Karaku. 😂😂😂 and you’d think after that he’d learn his lesson (he didn’t)

• He works as a Bartending Manager for a big club and always makes good money in tips because one he loves serving the drinks and seeing people’s reaction to his drinks and they all love him dearly.

• Speaking of, he Is a masttttterrrrr at creating drink recipes and has a miniature bar at his place. He’s also a fairly decent cook but still annoys Sekido because he likes his better 😂.

• Like I’ve said before, mans is a seriously talented dancer & he effortlessly woos people with his moves ever since he went viral online & has a lots of fans (no pun intended).

• He also posts videos of him making drinks on TikTok too and always picks the best songs but people mostly like when he does voice overs of what he puts in drinks.

• He also does Twitch streams from time to time playing games( likes games like FNAF, Dead by Daylight, or any kind of scary games.)

• I also headcanon that he loves Halloween mostly because it’s during his birth month.

• Has one tattoo on his arm of his moms first name. His mom always told him that he reminds her of herself back in her youth.

• Loves all animals but is more so a Dog person.

• HE DOES SMOKE WEED & VAPE!

• Academically he made A’s & B’s in high school so he is quite smart but still goofed off in class though 😂. He has a Bachelors Degree in Communications and is also apart of a Fraternity.

• DEFINITELY A GYM BRO BUT NOT THE TOXIC KIND. Takes his physical health and physique seriously but never ever talks bad about how anyone else chooses to do with their body. If they are happy, he is as well. He’s definitely not a bodyshamer & will put someone in check if they talk bad about someone around him.

• HES A LIGHT SLEEPER. Any little sound will wake him up instantly. One time he came home from work so tired that he forgot that he connected his phone to his big bluetooth speaker while he took a shower & also forgot that he set an alarm to wake him up in the morning for the gym and damn near had a heart attack when his alarm went off. 🥲

• Loves energy drinks and coffee but knows his limits on his intake and that too much caffeine isn’t good. DEFINITELY MEAL PREPS! Has meats, vegetables, and fruits.

• Like I Said, he takes his personal physical seriously. He has a skin care routine and he also smells really good too .. it’s like a Citrusy and warm vanilla type scent mixed with hints of his favorite cologne.

• He’s also fairly tall too standing at about 6’2

• He’s heavily into zodiac signs and reads his horoscope on the daily! Got the rest of his brothers into it. Sekido & Zoha thought it was stupid until they both did some research and it started singling out their individual character traits & that’s what sparked their interests in it.

• He’s a lover at heart so anybody that he loves he has them near and dear to his heart. If he loves you then you’re a 4LIFERRRRR.

AIZETSU

• So he’s the middle child! His Birthday is February 20, 1998 making Zetsy a Pisces baby!

• Much like his past incarnation he’s quiet & monotone if he’s not comfortable around you but once he is comfortable he becomes relaxed and more expressive. Is very introverted.

• He was kind of bullied in school due to his quiet and timid behavior but when asked his opinion on something, much like his older brother Sekido he wouldn’t hold back the truth (it’s always the quiet ones)

• I would like to think that Aizetsu is heavily into meditation because it calms his anxiety and his nerves.

• PLEASE GIVE THIS BABY WORDS OF AFFIRMATION AND REASSURANCE!

• Aizetsu works as a computer tech and is very good with technology. He’s been very tech savvy since he was a kid always learning how it functions and knowing the ins and outs of it. He also works part time as a Lyft driver.

• His hidden talent is singing! Like I said in my last post, Aizetsu is a hellllaaaa talented singer but he only does so in private but if he sings around someone that means he’s comfortable with them.

• He’s into Zodiac signs thanks to Karaku. He’s a water sign (Team waterrrr) so he’s really good at seeing through people and strays away from those who he determines to be not good people.

• Doesn’t really go to the gym. He thinks it’s way too many people. Instead he finds alternatives at home and he was blessed with a high metabolism too so that’s a W for him. But don’t let that fool you, under what he covers up, he’s still buff. He is about 6’2, same height as Karaku.

• Made excellent grades in school. Mostly all As and graduated top of his class like his brother. He is currently in college pursuing software engineering and is still doing excellent academically!

• Is a good cook at best. Only sticks to simple stuff and doesn’t really like to go all out. Not particular about food but in the same breath, he does lean towards savory foods.

• Doesn’t have any tattoos but low key wants a treble clef tattoo on his chest or something small.

• Has a pet Bearded dragon named Toothless.

• Smells really good! I think he would smell like Cinnamon. Skin does get irritated during the summer time but it’s not severe. Does get tips from Karaku about skin care.

• Is much more of a tea kind of person and loves herbal tea (chamomile is his favorite)

• Not really much of a sweets kind of person.

• IS A VERY LIGHT SLEEPER. Imagine Karaku x10!! Will wake up if he hears the smallest sound or if the temperature is not to his liking (he keeps his place on 64 degrees AT ALL TIMES).

• Aizetsu is a very gentle, understanding, sweet, and thoughtful person and he has times where he second guesses himself but he definitely has a good crowd of people around him to keep his head held high.

UROGI

• Like his past incarnation he’s the second to last born. His Birthday is January 4th, 1999 ( he’s only 11 months younger than Aizetsu)

• He is most DEFINITELY a wild child lmao! He’s like Karaku x3000 when it comes to getting a thrill out of doing some shit. As a child he used to like to jump off of crazy shit and oddly would not get hurt 😅

• Has always been hella adventurous since he was a young lad. Always loved being outdoors and being in nature and still does in his adulthood. Likes going hiking & climbing. He feels at peace outdoors.

• He once climbed a whole fucking billboard and sat there for like 10 minutes ( Karaku and one of their cousins has a recording of him climbing it)

• Not only is he super flexible and athletic but he’s also very musically inclined too. His singing voice is on par with Aizetsu and he can read and write music (to an extent).

• Urogi works at the same bar as Karaku (Yes they work together) literally trouble but make it double 😂😂. Much to anyone’s surprise they don’t cause THAT much chaos. If Karaku is thing one then Urogi is thing two!

• He also loves coming up with different type of recipes and they are all a hit. Him and Karaku compete to see whose drinks are the best at work but it’s all brotherly competition and never any hard feelings.

• Heavily into gymnastics too & have been since he was little! So you know he keeps his body in great condition and goes to the gym everyday! He is about 6’1 1/2.

• Academically he made a mixture of A’s, B’s, and some C’s. Never went below a C. Is very smart but is whole ass class clown. It only took one time for his parents to get onto him and he never caused any significant distractions again lmao. Did not want to attend college but chose to follow what he felt was good for him. At first his parents were a little mad but they let Urogi decide what was best for him and supported whatever he decided (WE LOVE GOOD NON TOXIC PARENTING 🥹).

• Can cook but absolutely hates doing it. Prefers takeout instead and only cooks when he is in the mood to do so.

• Very much a HEAVY ASS SLEEPER & SNORES. Can probably sleep through a loud ass storm.

• Smells very earthy but not in a bad way. Like a combination of Pine and Sandalwood. (His favorite body wash is Dove Sandalwood for its earthy tone) Has seasonal breakouts but worst during winter (poor baby)

• He definitely smokes weed but by himself or with Karaku.

• His weakness: HE LOVES SWEETS & JUNK FOOD. Mans can literally eat a XL pizza by himself.

• Urogi is all together a very friendly, eclectic, and outgoing person and everyone can’t help but love him (even though he sometimes drives them crazy) 😂

ZOHAKUTEN

• He’s the last born baby of the brothers! He was born July 21st, 2007 so he is a Cancer baby!

• Like Sekido and Aizetsu, Zohakuten is a rather quiet, reserved person. But he is hellllaaaaa blunt. Zohakuten’s tone may come off a bit direct and blunt and a little harsh but I think he means well. (Sometimes)

• INTROVERTED.

• Also like his brother, he DEFINITELY has a resting bitch face and is his dads literally mini me.

• He is very much into art and loves graphic design. He’s also a very skilled digital artist as well.

• As a matter of fact, he drew the dragon design that Sekido has tattooed on his back for his birthday last year.

• He is still in high school and is very close to his senior year!! He makes excellent grades in school with straight A’s and has always.

• He is also a band student too! He plays the snare drums.

• After Highschool he does hope to help his dad out at the studio and work to save up for college. He wants to pursue a career in art.

• Since he still lives at home of course he gets spoiled by his parents but I don’t see him being the petty type like rubbing it in his brothers faces. Hell they be spoiling him too.

• He hits the gym with his brothers when they go. It’s like part of a bonding experience.

• He is about 5’9 ( his mom thinks that he’s on the brink of a major growth spurt.) For more context, their mom is 5’11 (momma a stallionnnn) and their dad is 6’7.

• HE HATES SWEETS! Prefers spicy foods though! Literally will go through a family sized bag of hot chips in 30 minutes and nobody knows how. (Not even me.) 😂😂😂.

• HEAVY ASS SLEEPER! That’s it that’s the post.

• Is willing to learn how to cook but only trusts his mother or Sekido to teach him.

• Karaku got him into zodiac signs too. He didn’t understand the concept at first until he read further and started seeing his attitude traits in what he read on Cancers.

• Not a people person but it is not as bad as his past incarnation where he bathed in hatred. Is willing to make some changes to his attitude and approach especially pursuing a career that deals with customers commissioning him for his arts but PLEASE do not piss him off or rush his work.

• He may not show it but he lovvvveesssss and adores his family!

I genuinely hope you all enjoyed my headcanons. I had been putting it off and putting it off and making revisions but I think that I love my headcanons for them. There are of course some more to come though so keep your eyes peeled. I will eventually start writing for more fandoms but I gotta let this Hantengu clone brainrot out somehow lmao.

I tag: @i-karaku-swear-i-dont-smoke-weed @ch3rriiii-bunn @hakujisstuff @bbkook @its-freaking-jordan @yunaarts

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

May we have a little tattoo artist!s/o please? As a treat?

Been thinking about this for the past few days so here you go :)

Poly!Lost Boys x Tattoo Artist!S/O

Warnings: tattoo and blood mention

You met the boys by having them come into the tattoo parlor you worked at. Well, one of them did. A tall, handsome brunette had entered the shop one night, his bike parked outside. He'd barely talked through the entire consultation, and it seemed like he'd thought about the design for a long time. He even had it sketched out for you, and he was laying on his side. You were surprised he wanted a waist/rib tattoo as his first tattoo, but you already guessed there was no convincing him otherwise. He hadn't worn a shirt, and you guessed it was because of his choice of placement. He was even quieter during the tattooing process, and you noticed that he kept shutting his eyes at certain points. Almost as if he was falling asleep.

He only asked you a couple of questions, and that was towards the end. He asked you how long you'd been doing this for, and you chuckled when you told him a few years. He'd hummed, and, after a few beats, he pressed for your age. You told him, and then said, "Don't worry, I may be younger than some of the people here, but I'm not gonna mess up your tattoo. If I do, feel free to kill me." And he laughed. It was a surprising sound coming from the brunette, and you paused to look over at him. He caught your eye, and you caught the smile on his face. Before you could turn red, you looked back down at the nearly finished tattoo in front of you. When you finished, he didn't bother heading for the mirror and instead pulled his jacket on. He headed straight for the cash register, paid, said a quick thank you, and was gone with a flash of some finger guns.

You didn't expect to see him again so soon. They were all talking fairly quietly, with the tallest of the three blondes seeming to be the one that was getting the tattoo. Trailing behind them, you saw a familiar brunette. The one with the bleached mullet kept reminding him that "tattoos are permanent, Paul" and the smallest of the four even said, "they last forever, dude". But, despite the other boys warnings, Paul, the one obviously here to get the tattoo, still persisted. And Dwayne pointed him in your direction. He just wanted something on his arm, near his shoulder. He had a piece of paper with what he wanted drawn on it as well, in a familiar art style. He only had to take off his coat, and was able to keep his sleeveless mesh shirt on.

The others sat outside the room while he got it done, and you were surprised by how chatty he was during the whole thing. Definitely unlike his friend. Whether he was normally like that or was doing it to distract himself from the pain, you didn't know. Still, you chatted with him as much as you could, and, to your surprise, he grinned at you and asked for your number afterwards. You flushed as you gave it to him, and, just like his friend, he passed by the mirror and made a bee-line to show the others instead. Paul was more focused on planning a date with you then paying, and the two of you had the entire ordeal planned by the time the four of them were heading out the door. Well, you thought it was just going to be the two of you. You were surprised to see all four of them at your agreed meeting place, and even more surprised when they didn't beat it the second you showed up. By the end of the night though, you didn't really mind.

After dating them for awhile you found out that it was Marko who was the artist, and that he was the one that designed all the tattoos. You gave Marko his first tattoo at the cave, and he quietly watched every stroke of the tattoo gun as you did it. It was an arm piece, just like Paul's. His eyes never left your hand, and you were almost scared it wasn't going to be up to his expectation until he let a large smile cross his features. He was quick to compliment you, and even quicker to kiss you.

David was a solid pass on the tattoos for now, claiming that he already had an addiction and that he didn't need another one. You chuckled as you teased him, telling him that the whole reason you got into the profession was because you liked them. David gave you a warning glare, and Paul jeered at him from the side. It was that night that David decided to tell you what they were, explaining that that's the big reason why he didn't want a tattoo yet. They were literally going to last forever.

You found out that Dwayne had been thinking about his tattoo for about the past fifty years, but he was the first one to even try to get one. They'd been half sure that it would heal the next day, and the whole painful ordeal would've been pointless. When it didn't, Paul had decided he'd needed to get one immediately. He'd only been slowed down to waiting a few weeks by the others. Still, a couple weeks later and Dwayne's tattoo had healed completely (vampire perk) and it was still on his skin.

After dating you for a few months, Paul wanted more. You, like the others, told him to sit on it for a bit before you'd mark it into his skin. And, usually, after about two weeks he had a whole new idea for a different tattoo he wanted in the exact same place.

Marko is the only one of the boys that you ever let tattoo you. You'd done it in the early hours of the morning one night, and his hands had been still and steady, with the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun nearly lulling you to sleep. It was a small one, barely an inch, but Marko was beyond proud of his work. He beamed and leaned down to kiss the area, before licking away any stray droplets of blood. You pushed his head away, mumbling something about how that was unsanitary as he laughed.

David becomes interested in the idea of giving you a tattoo as well, but you knew he'd probably end up tattooing his name onto you or something, so, just like him, you gave it a pass

The boys love to visit you at the shop, asking about what you did today and if you were making any big tips. Depending on who came, they'd bring you coffee or some takeout (Dwayne usually brings coffee, Marko brings takeout). Paul usually stops in a few times a night just to give you a kiss, and David comes in to talk for a bit during your breaks. They'd also occasionally ask about any problem customers, and god forbid they come in when any surf-nazis are getting something done at the shop. You made them swear there'd be no fighting in, or around, the shop or else it'd be your ass one the curb. Of course, David just took that as an opportunity to remind you that you wouldn't need to eat if you decided to turn, but that was only when you were at the cave or out of earshot of other humans.

They become well known around the shop from how much they visit, and your co-workers have an ongoing joke of asking, "wait, which one are you dating again?" The boys end up on their good sides regardless, simply because Dwayne and Marko remember to bring extras for some of your co-workers.

Marko considered becoming a tattoo artist for a little bit, but, after hearing about how long he'd have to be an apprentice, the idea became a little bit less appealing. Though, it was Paul that pointed out that you could always be his mentor, and let's just say that lead to some interesting comments in the bedroom for a couple of weeks

Overall, the boys love and support your profession, especially since it sometimes means free tattoos

[justa-starrynite]

like me better (Coco Cruz)

A/N: Good afternoon everyone! This is Bea! I’m back with another installment for our fall series! This one is for Coco! I’ve never written for Coco, so I hope I did him some justice!

Megan and I would like to thank you for all the love you’ve been giving us! We truly appreciate it and we love giving you all some content to read. 

We love you all!

Masterlist

Word count: 1654

We’re currently working on the tag list! If you would like to be added, please message us or drop a comment!

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

Johnny Coco Cruz never thought he deserved anything. 

At a young age, he wasn’t exactly nurtured by his mother. The earliest memory he had of his mother was when he would watch men come in and out of their apartment, his sisters trying to shield him away from her work. 

His eldest siblings Elma and Selena, they were decent. 

But as soon as they had the opportunity to leave Celia’s home, they left.

At an early age, he recalled that he never called Celia mom, at least not when he spoke of her with his friends. He would rarely refer to her as his mother. But till he was eighteen, he called her mother.

Till he got in the Marines and told her she could fuck herself.

He had an ounce of respect for her, just due to the fact she birthed him, but otherwise, Coco stopped caring about his mother way before than he could remember.

Due to his tumultuous relationship with Celia, he chose to not be a part of his kids life, Letty and his son, Leo. He wanted Letty to be given up for adoption as her mother was no better than him, but Celia adopted her at her faux reasoning of getting a second chance as a mother. 

Coco never believed that and he was correct.

It was for welfare.

He finally found his place in the Marines, the discipline and skills he learned didn’t prepare him for life outside of the military, but it prepared him to contribute to his family.

The Mayans MC.

A place where people who didn’t belong anywhere fit. 

A place where Coco was able to find a family he never knew he needed.

Johnny Coco Cruz never thought he deserved anything.

Not until he met you.

You were a tattoo artist for one of the shops the club frequents. It was rare for you to do a piece for any of the members since you were in high demand and the shop owner, your father, was one of the few people the MC feared.

A gentle man that would make no hesitation to kill for you.

Your father had numerous stories going around about him, but the most prominent seemed to be him being a former gang leader who reformed.

Your father was never part of a gang, he was a firefighter once upon a time and now, he was a tattoo shop owner.

When Coco first laid his eyes upon you, you were leaving the shop as he and Riz waited for one of your co-workers to finish a piece on Creeper. 

You turned towards them, your glasses slightly slipping down the bridge of your nose. A small smile to greet your father’s favorite customers appeared on your face, your eyes lingering at Coco before walking out.

And that was the start.

Coco never tried to talk to you, you were too pure for him.

Too good.

So kept his distance because nothing ever goes well for him and he was almost certain that nothing would ever happen with you.

But then you worked on a piece for him and his life, well his self-hatred due to past trauma began to change.

“Damn, so you punched him on the face?” Coco chuckled, trying to contain his laughter since he didn’t want to ruin the piece you were doing on him.

“Listen, he was messing with my baby sister, of course I did. Let’s be honest he fared better with me cause my dad would have killed him.” You ran the needle along Coco’s skin, admiring the previous work he had done.

“Damn mami, remind me never to mess with you.” Coco smirked.

“I don’t think you’ll need a reminder, but I got you Coco Cruz.”

From there, your relationship evolved. You two started off as friends and in six months, Coco won you over, which wasn’t hard since you had a crush on Coco since he stepped foot inside your father’s shop. You were shy and it’s not like they were exactly approachable.

But when you got to know these men better, you realized they were definitely hardened men who could kill people in a bat of an eye, but, they were also kind hearted men.

There was hardly any black and white in the world.

So many grey areas were what was had instead.

You and Coco have been together for four years now and as much as Coco didn’t think it would last, your relationship would surprise him instead.

Coco was never a big fan of himself.

He thought he was worthless, a scum and he was making up for past grievances by keeping to himself and not ruining others’ lives, like his children.

But you showed him that he was more than that.

Traditions he used to scoff at were now becoming things he looked forward to.

New year’s celebration.

Christmas celebration

Thanksgiving celebration

And Halloween.

You absolutely loved fall and as soon as it was October, you were decorating the house you two shared. 

This was the second year in a row that you were decorating the house and if Coco was honest, he looked forward for the rest of the years you would be doing this.

He realized early he wasn’t willing to let you go. He was in love with you and you made him better.

Even if you forced him to drink a pumpkin spice latte.

Currently, you, Letty and Coco were at the pumpkin patch, looking for three pumpkins that you three could carve together.

Another thing Coco appreciated was how you accepted every aspect of his life. The club was going to be hard, at least he thought so, but you were part of this band of misfits before you two even dated.

But then Letty came and he became lost.

He couldn’t ruin her life.

But then your words brought him down.

“I know you feel that you’re a terrible man, one who ruins anyone’s life when you touch them, but that’s not true. You made my life better. The best thing about life is that everyone gets a second chance, this is it for you and Letty, take it.”

He took your advice and he was incredibly glad he did so. 

You gave him the strength to push the doubts away and give Letty the life she never had with Celia. You and Letty immediately got along and ever since then, you three were a little happy family.

Coco watched as you and Letty took your time picking the pumpkins. He never understood what exactly you were looking for, but that victorious smile on your face always made the question fade away.

“Coco, are you just going to stand there or are you at least going to pretend and help us pick?” You teased your fiancé as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him.

Coco chuckled. “For what? You two got it handled.”

“Your input would be nice.” You pouted.

“Okay mami, I got it.”

You three picked your pumpkins and just as you were all going to go home, Bishop called. Coco had taken his bike, meeting you after his shift at the yard.

“I’m sorry reina,” Coco frowned.

“It’s okay, I get it. We can do it later.” You offered him a smile, understanding the importance of the club. “Letty and I can go shopping for Halloween costumes.”

Coco took his wallet out to give you some cash, but you shook your head. 

“Don't be silly, I got it.” You pressed your lips on Coco’s and hugged him. “Be careful.”

Letty hugged him as well. He got on his bike, glancing at his mirror every once in a while till you both were out of his range.

Coco never cared about losing his life when going to do something for the club, but now, he had something to live for.

Coco came home later that night with Letty asleep and you sketching on the couch. He saw the relief come over your face and he had to smile at that.

“Hello mi amor.” He dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Hey baby, everything okay?” You questioned.

“Yes, just usual bullshit.” The rebels were ambitious and had a good cause, but at times, Coco questioned just how great the cause was. 

You nodded, continuing to sketch, feeling at ease with Coco home. 

Coco watched you, the sense of calmness that he felt whenever he was with you was something he craved for as long as he’s known you. He always waited for the rug under his feet to be pulled, knowing you wouldn’t stay with him for much longer, but for some reason, you’ve stayed.

And with how much he loves you, he would never want you to walk away.

“I love you.” Coco blurted out of nowhere.

The way your eye softened made his heart skip a beat, the blush on your cheeks further making his heart rate race.

“I love you too. Everything okay?” You closed your sketchbook then, placing it on the coffee table. You sat on his lap, his arms wrapping around you.

“Yes, everything is good baby.” Coco never liked himself too much. Due to the verbal abuse from Celia, his self esteem wasn’t the best even though he’s been working on it. He craved the assurance that he was enough, that he was good enough. 

He never had a true family either.

But it was changing with you.

He became a part of your family. You had him wanting something more in life. You gave him the strength to be there for Letty. 

“Just realized something.”

You raised an eyebrow, running your fingers through his hair. “And what’s that?”

“I like me better when I’m with you.” 

Johnny Coco Cruz never thought he deserved anything.

He definitely didn’t like himself much.

But being with you, growing with you, he found himself liking himself better.

[hlupdate]

The relationship between A-list muse and lauded designer is nothing new. But few have been as serendipitous that of Harry Styles and Alessandro Michele: the pop star’s solo career coincided neatly with the designer hitting his stride as the game-changing creative director of Gucci. Theirs is a mutually beneficial partnership that has elevated the former to new echelons of style, while the latter has become something of an icon to an unexpected fandom.

Unlike the large-scale productions of recent show seasons, Michele first presented his vision for Gucci with a quietly confident collection on 19 January 2015 — reportedly pulled together in just five turbo-charged days. The collection had all the signifiers of the retro-inspired aesthetic that has since become Michele’s beat, introducing the fur-lined loafers, pussy-bow blouses and florals that still form the backbone of his work today. A 20-year-old Harry, meanwhile, was still a long-haired One Direction member set to embark on the band’s biggest ever — and as it turned out last— tour. Just as One Direction’s days were winding down, Michele was picking up speed. Gucci reported a five per cent rise in sales in the last three months of 2015, amounting to 1.1 billion Euro in the final quarter.

Stylist Harry Lambert, who had been working with Harry for a few years by then, decided it was time for the boy-bander to try something new. A floral suit – that floral suit – from Michele’s spring/summer 2016 collection would be just the ’fit for the American Music Awards in November 2015, they decided.

Looking back it was a “very bold move,” Lambert admits. Styles was the first to take one of Michele’s full menswear looks from the Gucci catwalk and wear it on the red carpet. “It was very exciting to see everyone’s responses, but also how great he looked in it,’’ Lambert told Miss Vogueof what he still views as a turning point in his client’s fashion journey. This winning suit encouraged Styles and Lambert to pull more Gucci, and Harry gave his final performance as a member of One Direction wearing a suit in the retro petal print that defined Michele’s early collections.

In fact, Gucci was just about the only thing that the 1D alum carried over to his solo career. Even his shoulder-length curls were shorn. The music videos that accompanied Styles’s eponymous number one album, released in April 2017, all incorporated Gucci, as did his appearances on the promo trail. A navy tailored coat floats through the sky in the video for “Sign Of The Times”, and he wears floral tailoring in the clip for “Kiwi”. When the time came for Harry to take his record on the road, he wore countless bespoke Gucci suits on stage. Most were floral brocade with flared trousers, and paired with pussy-bow shirting.

By June 2018, the relationship had been formalised. Styles was revealed – in a series of photos taken by Glen Luchford in the suitably English setting of a chip shop – as the face of Gucci’s tailoring campaign. Two more campaigns followed, in which Styles models the most exuberant of Michele’s creations without ever sacrificing his schoolboy cheekiness, not even with a lamb slung around his shoulders. The campaigns, two by Luchford, a third by Harmony Karine, helped to usher in a new dawn in menswear advertising.

A year later Harry was unveiled as part of a diverse line-up in the campaign for Gucci’s Mèmoire D’une Odeur — the near century-old house’s first gender-neutral scent. Yes, he was the main event, but Styles shared the spotlight with other creatives in what became an unavoidable campaign, covering buildings, beauty counters, column inches and iPhone wallpapers across the globe. Styles has since quipped that he wears it to bed,making a bottle a necessary purchase for even half-dedicated Harry fans.

That Harry’s work with Gucci has proved so popular with his dedicated fanbase is a key component in the success of their collaborations. Though — and again, this is likely owing to Harry’s own allegiances — his followers do tend to have a keen interest in fashion compared to other fandoms, it’s down to their idol that Harries know the artistic director by his first name alone. “It is really exciting for us fans to see another facet of Harry as a creative individual, and his Gucci partnership cultivates that and gives us an even more in-depth perspective of who he is,” Nadhila, a 26-year-old fan in Indonesia told Miss Vogue.

Nadhila, who has been a part of the team behind the Twitter account @HSNewsUpdate since 2011, believes that the fluid nature of Michele’s vision has contributed to the interest in Harry’s Gucci looks. “There are no boundaries on what he might come up with, so fans are always excited to see what look [Harry] might step out in next,” she says. Styles’s efforts to be a fan-focused, ethical pop star – his motto is “treat people with kindness” – are relevant, too. “He has inspired us to be bold, unique and unafraid to experiment when it comes to fashion,” she adds. “He has shown us that there is no such thing as too feminine or too masculine, we can be both and we can be ourselves.”

Another of Harry’s biggest fan accounts, @TheHarryNews, is run by four women in their mid-twenties: Annie, Océane, Lena and Rachel. “You can really see the confidence he’s gotten from working with Gucci,” they share collectively over email. “[He’s] taking more risks and letting more of himself show… In a lot of ways we’ve seen Harry really come into his own. I think that really resonates with people, especially his fans, who get tiny pieces of [who he really is] through fashion.”

Two fans who have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of this fashion partnership are the transatlantic duo behind @HSFashionArchive. Since April 2016, London-based Lu and Washington DC-based Alex have documented every look worn by Harry in meticulous detail, all to act as “a resource for fans”. Its posts lets his followers know how they might go about procuring these items, but also sheds light on key house codes – thus enabling fans to quickly identify which of Harry’s looks are Gucci, and which aren’t. “We have noticed that fans buy the Gucci pieces that Harry has worn,” 29-year-old Alex explained. “Though some pieces are pricey, we’ve seen people buy the loafers, boots, and bags that Harry has sported over the years. Lots of our followers bought the £34 Gucci lipsticks he wore in Beauty Papers.”

The pair believes that the relationship works because Gucci is able to offer Harry such a broad spectrum of looks to choose from. “Gucci’s looks range from wearable to outrageous, so Harry’s continued partnership with Gucci guarantees both attainable style and flashy moments. There’s nothing like seeing him in a wild new outfit that we couldn’t have anticipated.” And though one might assume the scene-stealing suits are most popular with fans, according to Nadhila, they like his low-key looks best, given that “they show a more casual and intimate look into who he is as a ‘normal’ person”.

Of course, there is a notable exception: the 2019 Met Gala. For the opening evening of the “Camp: Notes On Fashion” exhibition Michele and Harry acted as co-hosts, and arrived on the pink carpet together. “After such a colourful tour wardrobe it was nice to do something a little unexpected,” Lambert told Miss Vogue of the black blouse Styles wore. “[It was about] taking traditionally feminine elements like the frills, heeled boots, sheer fabric and the pearl earring, but then rephrasing them as masculine pieces set against the high-waisted tailored trousers and his tattoos. Camp, but still Harry.” Lambert explained at the time: “We met up earlier this year to share mood boards with the Gucci team. We had pages of printed references all on the table from Alessandro, myself and Harry, then we edited them down.” Today, the @HSFashionArchive duo agree the night “was a massive deal amongst fans”.

There was the now pearl earring-wearing fashion darling of the music world, standing alongside the closest thing to a rockstar the fashion industry has at present. “I love dressing up and he loves dressing up,” Michele told The Face in 2019. “The moment I met him, I immediately understood there was something strong around him. I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thoughtful way, with uncombed hair and a beautiful voice. I thought he gathered within himself the feminine and the masculine.”

Since the Met, the relationship has continued to go from strength to strength. Styles wore a custom look on the cover of his second record, Fine Line, shot by Tim Walker, and Michele and Styles collaborated on a T-shirt to coincide with it, with a percentage of the sales going to the Global Fund For Women. Gucci’s high-waisted trousers, cropped blazers and dazzling shirting now takes up even more space in Styles’s wardrobe, and bring as much attention to the star as his sophomore record’s commercial and critical success.

Sightings of Styles in Gucci have become a source of comfort for fans in a turbulent 2020. From his Mary-Janes at the Brits to his oversized turquoise blazer and crochet gloves in the “Golden” video, by way of outré sunglasses and floral sunglasses in the clip for “Watermelon Sugar”, Harry’s recent sartorial choices have managed to be pleasingly familiar, while simultaneously keeping his followers on their toes.

A bit like the chicken and the egg conundrum, the question remains: is Harry very Gucci, or is Gucci very Harry? The verdict is out. But without each other, both might be missing a little something.

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[tripleaxeldiaz]

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 1/5

for @hearteyesforbuck (it’s for EVERYONE but definitely for eli)

read on ao3

Eddie’s bad at words. 

He can talk, of course, will happily go on for hours about how great Christopher’s latest art project is, can give a sermon about the Rangers’ chances of winning the World Series. But when it comes to discussing what’s happening in his brain, the gloomy, sticky parts that follow him around and keep him awake, he clams up. Keeps them locked in because it’s easier than exposing to anyone just how gross it all is, how dark everything is, how dark he is. He wants to talk about things, he does. Wants to make sure Chris knows that he should talk about his feelings, especially the bad ones. And he does his best to be open with him as well, but he’s the only one he seems to be able to do that with. Anyone else — his parents, Abuela, Shannon — he just...can’t. He’d rather save them the trouble.

Eddie’s bad at words, but he’s good at flowers.

He partially blames Abuela for making him spend hours with her in her garden when he was a kid. She taught him different planting methods, how to cut the flowers so they stayed alive longer, and a few basic meanings she learned from Good Housekeeping. After his first tour, they didn’t have the money for him to even try and get into med school, so he got a job at a local flower shop to help with their landscaping team. The owner, Mrs. Negrelli, saw he was better with the roses than the mulch and took him under her wing, teaching him everything she knew. When she retired shortly after Shannon left, she handed him a check with a lot of zeros and said, “It’s time to go plant your own seeds.”

So he did. The Greenhouse has been up and running for just over a year, and it may very well be the best year Eddie’s had in a long time. They’re in a small plaza just outside of LA proper, with an apartment above the shop that makes early morning deliveries much less horrible. Chris is doing great in school (“very popular and excellent in all subject areas”, according to his homeroom teacher) and he’s made some good friends with the other local business owners. It’s the peaceful, quiet life he always dreamed of having when he finally got out of the Army.

Peaceful except for—

“Morning, Diazes!”

“Dad! Buck’s here!”

Eddie pokes his head through the doorway from the back room in time to see his son crash into his friend’s legs, Buck scooping him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Chris laughs loudly, echoing through the whole shop, and starts talking animatedly about his latest drawing when Buck sets him on the counter. He listens intently, throwing a wink towards Eddie when he catches him lingering a few feet away.

As usual, Eddie has to school his face into something other than heart eyes as he watches the two chat. Buck’s in his standard uniform of ripped black jeans that hug his thighs in all the right places and a t-shirt featuring some grungy rock band he’s never heard of. He’s a stark contrast against the rows of hyacinths and magnolias currently on the wall, and Eddie feels a blush rise on his cheeks as he tries (and fails) to stop staring.

When he first met Buck, he was pretty sure he was getting robbed. When a six foot whatever stranger in all black and combat boots and covered in tattoos comes barreling into your newly opened flower shop, that’s kind of the first place your mind goes. He had 9 and 1 dialed on his phone before the stranger ran up to the counter and frantically asked, “What kind of flowers can I buy to apologize to my very intimidating adoptive mother for sideswiping her brand new car?”

Eddie figured an actual criminal would have bigger problems to worry about than his mom’s Nissan.

They formally met the next day, when Buck came to thank him for the bouquet (a small arrangement of broom for humility and common rue for regret; all the yellow tended to make people happier and more likely to forgive you for being a dumbass). He told Eddie he could come by the shop anytime for a tattoo, on the house.

He’d been in Armageddon Tattoo when he was first looking for a space, had met Maddie, the co-owner, and Chimney, their head artist. If he had known the other co-owner looked like Buck, he would have signed the lease much faster. Faster still once he saw how quickly and easily he and Chris got along.

A year on and Buck’s in the shop almost every day, either to buy a bouquet or to give Chris tips on a drawing or to complain about an annoying customer who changed their mind about a design after it was halfway done.

For all the peace that Eddie’s found, Buck is the one chaotic spot that keeps his reflexes in check. He’s a microburst, a runaway firework, an ATV rolling through a field of wildflowers. He blasts his music as he drives in in the mornings, and he opens doors so hard they almost fall off their hinges.

Eddie is painfully, unbearably in love with him.

Which is funny, really, because his whole life, Eddie has always been “the good guy” or “the good son” or “the good soldier”. He was homecoming king, set multiple records on courses in Basic, and became Staff Sergeant quicker than any of his superiors had seen in years. He was always by the book, always tried to be the best, and he usually was the best. 

Until he wasn’t. Until his brain was so full of sadness and horrors that it was a battle to get out of bed each day. Until he was missing so much of Chris’s life that he might as well not have been in his life at all.

Until he wasn’t enough.

His marriage crumbled from there. He knew any path he and Shannon tried to take to move forward would be foggy with the guilt of all he hadn’t done in the past to help their family, so when she left, he didn’t go after her. And that guilt — knowing that he could have fixed it if he tried, if he had just been better — follows him wherever he goes now. He second guesses himself with Chris all the time because he knows one wrong move will lead to whispers among the PTA moms about the single dad who isn’t doing it right. He almost withdrew his lease application for the shop four times because he was constantly worried that it wouldn’t work, that he’d invest all this money and time and effort and it wouldn’t matter. He had done things by the book for so long because that was supposed to be how he succeeded. But now the books are empty and he’s in free fall, hoping he finds a soft landing before splatting on the asphalt.

When he met Buck, the complete antithesis to doing anything “by the book”, a voice whispered in his head that’s your landing. He’s the opposite of everything Eddie knew how to be, and that was thrilling to see. Freeing. To see someone living a happy life by making their own way and not giving a shit what anyone else thought. Not to mention that he was gorgeous, a gentle soul armored in chains and ink, and so unabashedly himself that he drew everyone to him like a magnet.

So Eddie fell, hard but quietly. Because on top of all that, Buck is the best friend he’s made since moving to LA, and he’ll be damned if he screws that up for himself or for Chris.

He finally gets himself moving to the counter, pulled by that damn magnet, where Buck is now showing Chris his latest tattoo — a small skull with a string of roses weaving in and out of the eye sockets and mouth on his right bicep.

“Does it mean anything?” Chris asks, running a small finger over it, taking in the detail.

“Chim says so, went on and on about how it symbolizes life after death and blah blah blah. I just thought it looked cool.”

“Peach blossoms would have been better.” Eddie mutters absently, eyes glued to Buck’s arm and the pale skin under the ink. He blinks as his words register, meeting Buck’s eyes and internally wincing. Thankfully, Buck just looks amused, not mad. “They’re a sign of longevity and immortality in some Eastern cultures. Would’ve fit the life after death idea a little better.”

“See, this is why I need you and your flower wisdom on retainer at the shop. You’d save me a lot of time researching, and our stuff would be even cooler because it would make sense.” He leans down to stage-whisper to Chris. “Between you and me, I think roses are the only flowers Chim knows how to do anyway.” Chris giggles, and Eddie huffs out a laugh too. 

“Any real flowers today, Buck?” Eddie asks. He grabs the craft paper, already knowing the answer.

“Of course! Whatever feels right to you.”

Buck gets a bouquet for the shop about once a week, claims they’re good for inspiration and help some of the more nervous clients relax among the black leather chairs and tattoo guns. Sometimes he has very specific requests (“I just want orange. Like so much orange you could die.” or “Someone asked for tulips on their arm, can I get those in every color so I can practice?”), other times he tells Eddie to put together “whatever feels right”. At first, Eddie never put too much thought into those, just used whatever he was running low on and still looked okay together. But one day, one particularly dark day, when all Eddie was doing was feeling, he took Buck’s words to heart. It was a pretty morbid bouquet — cyprus for despair, peonies for the anger that never seemed to leave him, vervain as a plea to whoever was listening to protect him from the evils of his own mind. His internal mess must have been written all over his face too, because when he handed the flowers to Buck, he just looked at him for a while, like he could feel the sadness that Eddie had physically given him, like he knew the weight of what he was holding, even though Eddie knew he didn’t really. When he said thank you, it was more sincere than usual, laced with something like empathy that Eddie wasn’t ready to look at too closely.

Buck kept those flowers alive for three weeks, said he just couldn’t bear to let them go.

Luckily for everyone, Eddie is in a much less terrible place this week. With his son’s laughter still floating in his mind, he puts together crocuses and daisies, youthful joy and innocence, and ties them together with a dark blue ribbon, Chris’s favorite color. He wraps them in paper and hands them to Buck, who beams as he helps Chris down from the counter.

“Oh, these are beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the man who arranged them.” Eddie feels his cheeks get red and sees Buck’s smile turn smug. “How much do I owe for this masterpiece?”

“Please, you haven’t paid for anything here in months.” Eddie stopped charging while he was only using almost bad flowers, and told Buck as much. He just didn’t tell him when he started using the good stuff.

“I know, but I’m a gentleman, I always have to try. Remember that when you’re older, buddy.”

“I will.” Chris replies. “Dad, we’re gonna be late for school.”

“Okay okay, go grab your backpack.” Chris heads towards the back room as Buck heads towards the front door.

“Well, I’m off to stab people with needles for fun. See you later, boys! Bye Hen!”

Eddie whips his head around and sure enough, there’s Hen, leaning on the far side of the counter, looking far too smug for Eddie’s liking.

“When did you get here?”

“My shift started 20 minutes ago, boss. Glad I got here in time for the show.”

“The show?”

“Yeah, the show. You really should get an Oscar or something for how hard you act like you’re not head over heels for that man.”

Eddie’s jaw drops and Hen cackles. He doesn’t even have time to explain himself before Chris returns with his backpack and starts shoving Eddie towards the door.

“Don’t worry,” Hen calls as she opens the register for the day, “at least you’re cute when you blush!”

Eddie pointedly ignores Chris’s questioning look as he drives, his face and neck still blazing.

He can only hope Buck is less perceptive than Hen. If not, they’re going to have to move cities. Maybe countries. Maybe to the moon.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Life on Richmond Street - Info

Hey guys! I’ve been talking about this for the past couple of days but I’m starting a blurb series for tattoo artist!Cal, which I’m calling Life on Richmond Street! Basically below is the basic information for the universe, the reader and any OCs I’ll be using in the blurbs. I’ll update it if needed with any characters and also I’d love for your input on some of the things I haven’t yet some up with - suggestions for names of people and places mainly. 

I’ll make a masterlist as well for all the blurbs and I’ll link this on there but I just thought this would be a cool way to kind of write a series together? Like it’s basically my basic ideas and then wherever it is that you want it to go? Anyway, please request some stuff for this, I’m really excited to see where it goes!

Calum Hood works as a tattoo artist on Richmond Street, in a shop he co-owns with his friends: Ashton Irwin (the eldest of the four, often finding himself performing first-tatoos on new customers as a result of his ability to put them at ease and calm their nerves), Luke Hemmings (a university student studying music and so does not work full-time at the store but still a favourite artist for many regular customers) and Michael Clifford (his long term best friend who specialises in piercings and cover-up tattoos).

Richmond Street is populated by a series of local independent stores such as their tattoo parlour, Third Eye Ink, including a bakery, a music store, a bookshop and several cafes, a couple of pubs and more. It’s a little community that provides an escape from the otherwise commercial, loud city life that surrounds Richmond Street. A place where independent stores are able to live contentedly and start-up businesses are capable to flourish under the nurturing environment provided by the veterans of Richmond Street.

Y/N Y/L/N often feels like she’s leading at least four different lives, none of which reflect who she truly feels she is. The person she is inside is different to how she presents herself in most circumstances. When working at the bookshop (NO NAME DECIDED) she is soft spoken, quiet and yet unashamedly passionate about literature. When at her job at Spencer’s (one of the bars of Richmond Street), she is louder, though still reserved, a good listener and amusing for the customers. During her university lectures English Literature, she’s amusing and friendly to her peers, albeit a little quiet and stressed. Being around her roommates is the closest she feels to being herself and even sometimes then she feels she is putting on an act.

Y/N knows Ashton and Luke, and she knows of Michael and Calum though has never actually met them. She considers herself to be friends with them, as they do her. One evening, Y/N has to call upon the two of them for help. A man, Josh, she had been seeing briefly and casually was stalking her and refusing to let her end things between them. After confiding the situation into her roommates (DETAILS WILL BE POSTED BELOW) they suggest bringing in the help of Ashton and Luke as well as a few of the other tenants of Richmond Street who are fond of Y/N, her boss from the pub, Spencer, included.

Once that situation is dealt with, Y/N feels guilty at having called upon those friends and begins to go around to the people who had helped get the man to leave her alone and brings them a box of home-baked goods.

When she gets around to the tattoo parlour, however, Ashton and Luke are not present in the store, instead it’s Calum, who has no idea who the girl randomly walking in with two boxes of baked goods and no appointment is.

Original Characters being used

Roommates:

Lewis - Y/N had been scared of Lewis when she first met him in uni halls. He had been the first roommate that she met, him already being there when she first moved in. He offered to help move some of her furniture, though, and turned out to really be a complete softie with a love of T.S Eliot poems, contrary to what his stature would suggest. He’s literally the sweetest guy ever and was the most outraged by the guy stalking Y/N. Though he would never admit it to anyone outside of his roommates, he also loves reality TV and was the one most eager to have daily viewing parties of Love Island when it was on the TV. He studies dentistry at the university, though he wanted to do archeology his parents were against that and claimed that he wouldn’t get anywhere in life with that degree

Lisa - the realist person ever, snappy and sarcastic and yet overwhelmingly nice to people she deems worthy of her time and affection (i.e. her roommates and Alfie, and her long-term boyfriend who doesn’t go to university with them), her and Y/N keep each other sane in their otherwise testosterone-heavy apartment. She studies Biochemistry at the university and is a waitress on Richmond street

Ryan - lowkey a manwhore. A pansexual LEGEND who is the most overbearingly friendly person you will ever meet, everyone he meets falls a little in love with Ryan. Unfortunately for them, Ryan is very much so hung up on Lewis, who is completely oblivious to Ryan’s pining. Ryan is the reason Y/N knows Luke so well as he works in the music store on Richmond street and is in the same university lectures as Luke

Charlie - the roommate who Y/N is closest too. He works alongside her at Spencer’s and the two of them are practically inseparable when they’re together. People often mistake them for a couple, but there have never been any romantic feelings between them. Charlie was the first person Y/N expressed her worries about the man she had been seeing and the one to convince Y/N to ask Ashton and Luke for help. During their first year at uni, Charlie was in different uni halls to Y/N and her other roommates (all of whom had been in halls together in first year) and they met during Freshers week, which had ended with them both very drunk and Y/N kicking Charlie out of his bed and sleeping in it with him on the floor as his halls were closer than his. Since then, this has been a regular occurrence. He studies history at the university

Other Characters:

Alfie - a guy from her course who she walks to and from lectures with every day and often comes over when Y/N’s apartment are having a ‘family dinner’. He was meant to be rooming with them after they got out of uni halls but felt too awkward saying no to his previous roommates when they asked him to live with them off campus, resulting in him staying put and meaning that Y/N and her roommates had an extra room at their place

Josh - Y/N had met him in Spencer’s, serving him one night. She had initially been very wary of agreeing to the date but the guy kept pushing and Y/N didn’t feel comfortable saying no so went out on the date. When no further red flags had been raised on that first date, she very unsurely accepted the invitation for another. It got too the point that Y/N felt unsafe turning down dates, though she didn’t like the person she became in his company, she felt like a mere shell of herself. Since the intervention, he has been banned from not only Spencer’s but blacklisted from most of the stores on Richmond Street

[distinguishednachotale]

The DJ

Previous Chapter

Chapter Three

The white of the hotel room felt brighter as the rising sun hit the walls, drawing the grey curtains cross the sliding balcony door so he could open his eyes without glare blinding him Richard felt instant relief. The days had been long, the nights longer filming the same scene over and over for different angles and accuracy. Shedding his clothes Richard threw them into the bathroom hamper then stepped into the running warm shower. 6am, only just finished filming for the night shoot and sleep was calling, no screaming his name. The natural chemistry between you and Richard showed on the screen, the Director lapped it up. As the days passed he saw you coming back to life on set, but the caution was still evident. Even while you were filming scenes where Richard was not needed, he watched you film purely so he could catch glimpses of the carefree woman you once were reemerging.

 There was no after shooting drinks, no public meetings with anyone. But often Richard would hear a light knock at his door and you would come in. The conversation flowed, it didn’t stop, awkward silence never interrupted. The two of you discussed your mutual home country of Scotland, both of you missing the quiet of the country towns. A small trip was planned once filming was over between the two of you, a cabin in the Highlands where no one could find you two. You confided in him about what had happened while filming two years before; someone had told Nate about you having a drink with a co-star, two beating’s followed. One for him, at the hands of a masked assailant who was never caught and one for you at the hand of Nate. It explained why you never caught up with anyone in public.

 Stepping out of the shower Richard slid on a pair of boxer shorts and lay down on his bed, uncaring about getting under the soft covers sleep quickly took over. You ran down the hall, your heart racing and breath catching in your throat. Sliding on the carpet you nearly missed room 204 where Richard slept. Frantically you knocked on the door, muttering his name through choked sobs.

 The door opened to a sleepy face that woke suddenly as he saw your tear stained face, “He knows Richard, he knows. Please don’t let him find me.” You cry, holding your phone out to him with a shaking hand. Taking your phone Richard stood aside, ushering you in while gazing down the wall to see if anyone was watching your interaction. You too had changed into sleepwear, a pair of black cotton shorts covered the very top of your legs with a baggy white shirt and crew socks covered your small feet. Pacing around the room you couldn’t help but panic and fear everything coming your way, you could feel his anger, his burning hot rage sitting on a plane heading to Croatia where you were filming.

 Richard scrolled through the text message exchange, it was short on her end but vocal and colorful on his. Anger, threats and degrading messages were fired her way rapidly. The time stamps showing him they were send one after the other after the other, with no time for a response. “Ev…”

 “I don’t know how he knows, but he always finds out. He always does.”

 “Hey,” Putting the phone down he stopped your pacing, taking a cigarette out of your hand he cast it to the side. “Love, I’m not going to leave your side. Not for a second.” Gazing up at his eyes you took a brave step forward and pressed your lips against Richards, the kiss quickly became frantic and rushed; opening his eyes Richard realized this was wrong. Every bone in his body felt like he would be taking advantage of you in your state if it were to go any further. Pulling away he muttered, “Ev, I can’t I’m sorry…”

 “I’m sorry, I thought…” Spinning around you picked your phone up off the counter top, leaving the room quickly. Walking down the hallway, wiping the hot tears off your face you ignored the desperate Scottish voice calling your name. Finding your room you let yourself in, locking the door behind you and sliding down the door. You felt embarrassed, it felt like Richard had felt that spark you had; but you had misread it. You fool.

 Taking your clothes off, you threw them onto your bed then found a pair of blue denim jeans and a sweater to wear instead. Your body had healed over the previous three weeks, the bruises were gone, makeup took half the time as it had previously. You could move freely and, you thought, spend time with Richard safely. Your phone brought you out of your thoughts, sighing you were in half a mind to ignore it however upon seeing Indie’s name you answered.

 “Hi Ev, sorry to call you…” Indie’s flight was due to leave in a couple of hours, she was flying ahead of the rest of the cast to the next location. She had been packing up her makeup from the trailer, and had come across your purse at the makeup station. Cursing yourself you knew it meant instead of a quiet tea as planned it meant you had to catch a cab across town.

 That is how you found yourself walking up the pathway to the familiar trailer.

”Indie, you here?” Your voice echoed. “Indie, I-”

 “You’re really fucking thick you know that.” Your heart froze, his voice was spiteful and angry. Turning around slowly you saw Nate standing there, dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt folded at his elbows covered his lightly tattooed arms while you could see a combination of anger, amusement and fatigue cover his face. His black hair was messy, unkept and pushed back slightly and you could see a few beads of sweat were pooling at his hair line. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

 “Nate, please.” As he stepped forward you felt yourself instinctively step back.

 “Those non disclosure agreements, do you think they protect you? You fool. Do you know who tells met your every move? Them. The “artists”, as those bitches call themselves. So desperate to work with celebrities they’ll sign any fucking thing I tell them to.” He spits in your face with each word, a hand wraps around your throat menacingly pressing a small teasing amount of pressure against your windpipe before releasing. “They are the ones who tell me, Everly. Them. Every single time he brings you a coffee, every time he checks on you, every time you go to him after filming they tell me.” Stepping away Nate turned to close and lock the trailer door, making sure all the windows were shut he left you to ponder his words. All the friendships you thought you had made over the years with the makeup and hair stylists were false, they were the ones telling Nate your every move for all these years. Dozen of them, you wagered, had told him in exchanged for recommendations on other film sets.

 The first blow to your cheek was a surprise, you were so focused on your thoughts you hadn’t seen Nate return. His knuckles connected firmly with your cheek bone, the skin ripped slightly and you felt warm blood drip down. You hit the floor, looking at the maroon carpet you groaned softly. A scream escaped you lips as a boot connected with your stomach, flipping you onto your back curling up to protect your aching abdomen. The underside of his boot stumped on your hands, a crack and scream melted together as you felt the bones on two of your fingers break from the pressure.

 “I’m sorry Everly, but you should have known how this would go.” He rained down hard on you, straddling your stomach he pushed your fighting hands down, he never flinched as you scratched and clawed at him, instead he took his own swings. Connecting every time with your face he his harder and harder until you went limp, one hand kept pulling your head up by your brown matted with blood hair. Pulling a fraction harder he pulled a clump of hair from you, throwing the hair to the side he admired his work. His fists were red, your blood staining them.

 “You fucking idiot.” Richard cursed himself, sitting on the end of he bed with his head resting in his hands. Fatigue had long left his body, replaced with a wide awake feeling he knew wasn’t going to go away while he felt so guilty. No part of him regret not taking advantage of you, he had dreamed of making love to you for weeks. But not like this, in his dreams you were happy and vibrant. Not sad, and afraid.

 Instinctively as soon as your name flashed up on the screen, Richard answered with a quick, “Ev I’m so sorry, I-” You screams filled his ears, standing from the bed Richard tried calling your name, but all he could do was listen as your screams stopped. The unmistakable sound of the beating had Richard hang up, instead pulling clothes and shoes on desperately, and running down the flights of stairs to the foyer. Dialing your number repeatedly there was never an answer.

 “Ma’am, please help,” Richard pushed his way to the front of the line at the reception desk. A middle aged woman was shocked by his rude behaviour, but she recognised him as on of their high value customers. “Everly McCarthy, she caught a cab, yes?”

 “Yes, about an hour ago.”

 “Where to?”

 “Sir, I cannot answer-”

 “This is fucking urgent, please.”

 “Let me check.” The minutes it took for her to return felt like a lifetime, taking his phone out he attempted again to call you. There was no dial tone, straight to voicemail with your sweet voice filling his ears.

 “Sir, she mentioned going to ‘the set’. I don’t have an address.” Turning around a younger man spoke with a strong accent. The drive in the cab felt like it took hours, all Richard could do was think about your screams and fear the end result. You had both thought Nate was still flying to Croatia, the thought of him already being there hadn’t crossed your minds. Preparing himself, Richard got the number for the local emergency services ready. The taxi driver was surprised by the large amount of cash thrown his way, and the speed in which Richard ran from the taxi.

 The path to the trailers felt ten times longer than normal, they all looked alike bar the one with a door flung open and broken ff the hinges. Nothing but pure anger could have caused that amount of damage. Inside items were thrown around, the makeup stations upturned with glass shattered around the floor. Labored breathing drew Richards attention, he saw you face down attempting to drag yourself up the hallway with one arm while the other was held to your chest. Your face was cast down, not enough energy to lift it, your phone had been thrown toward the dressing room and you were desperate to get to it.

 “Everly!” Rushing to your side Richard pressed dial, “Ambulance please.” Helping you turn he was shocked by what he saw, your face was bloodied and swollen, you were hardly staying awake. Through one hardly open eye you could see Richard desperately speaking to someone, your ears were both ringing with no sound getting through to you. Stay awake, Everly, stay awake You screamed to yourself, shock and adrenalin were the only things masking the pain that would otherwise have you screaming if you had the capability to open your broken jaw to do so. Every ounce of energy had been used trying to fight back and trying to get to your phone, nothing was left in the tank to fight the heavy feeling taking over your body.

****

Two more chapters! This is only a short series but I’ll likely continue to write with the same OFC with Richard in other stories.

[5hfanfiction]

New Kind of Love ~ Chapter Six: Alone

Lauren was sat in her workplace; McDonald’s, on a stool, feeling completely emotionless—sat on the stool with her elbow on one knee, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

As she sat in front of the coffee machine, she thought back on her life—thinking back to all of the most memorable memories and moments.

If you asked her to create a timeline of the saddest moments of her life, it would be the easiest task she had ever been asked to do.

2003:

Lauren was only six years old when she moved all the way from California to Miami, Florida.

Her parents had convinced her that the move was just an early birthday gift, but the only catch was that she had to repeat a grade. Which she, being the naive six year old that she was back then, excitedly agreed to move upon hearing that she was receiving an ‘early birthday present.’

***

“This is for the best, Laur,” her mother whispered.

She had been crying ever since her parents told her that they were moving. The questions that flew through her mind were worrying her beyond belief.

How about all of my friends? What if my grades drop in the new school? What if someone starts to bully me?

Lauren didn’t respond, and her mother let out a drawn out sigh. Lauren’s face remained buried in her hands.

The room went silent, and all Lauren could hear was her parents whispering to each other.

She sniffled a couple of times, finally starting to calm down when her mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“This is just your…early birthday gift. You know…bigger house…better toys.”

Lauren finally looked up from her hands.

***

2007:

Ten years old. The year that Lauren’s mother had passed away. The year that Lauren had experienced her first real heartbreak.

***

Lauren walked through the front door; only to reveal her father crying hysterically at the dinner table. His sobs resounded and echoed throughout the household—harsher than gunshots.

She dropped her book bag and ran to him.

Her father almost never cried. Yet there he was; crying his eyeballs out for a reason Lauren wasn't quite sure she was ready to hear.

As soon as she approached the table, he stood up, and Lauren wrapped him in the tightest hug—squeezing his waist with all of the strength that she could muster.

She swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in her throat from remorse for her father before speaking up:

“What happened, dad?" she croaked out.

"Your mom.”

And it was all that he had to say before tears started welling in Lauren’s eyes. He didn’t have to say any more. Her mother’s death was the only occasion that would ever make her father cry.

Lauren’s dad didn’t tell her exactly what happened to her mother that day.

There was an extraordinarily faint grey area between wanting to know and not wanting to know. That’s where Lauren resided for nearly six years.

It was only at age fifteen that her father finally told her what had happened to her mother.

***

2014:

Seventeen years old—Sophomore year of high school. The emptiness started to settle in and began to develop into deep depression.

She contemplated cutting, and even suicide several times. It was only then that she was introduced to the emotional numbness that drugs and alcohol offered.

2015:

Eighteen years old—Junior year of high school.

As soon as her eighteenth birthday fell upon her, she got her first tattoo. Then, she started getting more. Soon enough, her body became a work of art—work of tattoo artists’ art on her body; beautiful, nonetheless.

She started to make an effort to stop doing drugs. Though, the withdrawals made it extremely difficult. She was beginning to just do drugs solely based on the fact that the withdrawals were too much for her to handle; encouraging her to fall right back into her addiction.

But, after a couple of months of going through the same cycle over and over again, she finally stopped.

That brings us here.

She honestly didn’t hate her job—working at McDonald’s for nearly minimum wage. Not that she loved it either. But it paid her well enough to pay the bills, and it kept her mind busy and off of everything going on in her life—and that’s all that mattered.

“Frappuccino with caramel drizzle,” her co-worker yelled, breaking her out of her thoughts with abruptness.

She quickly stood up and went back to work.

—-

Camila trudged through the hallways while tightly hugging her binder and textbooks to her chest—the same binder and textbooks that made her arms ache so vehemently every day.

When she finally made it to her locker, she lazily threw all of her belongings into it and replaced them with her Romeo and Juliet book.

Her favorite part of the day was always lunch, and even more so ever since Lauren so gracefully waltzed into her life.

She let out a huff of exhaustion and ever so slightly tugged her shirt down passed her shoulder—inspecting the bruise that had been present for almost three weeks. And she could have sworn that it was only getting worse.

She lightly pressed her index finger onto the bruise, resulting in excruciating pain shooting through her whole arm close to instantaneously.

Just then, she saw one of her best friends, Dinah Jane, walking towards her out of the corner of her eye. And she was quick to lift her shirt back onto her shoulder.

When she looked up to meet the gaze of her Polynesian friend, she was already too late in covering the bruise. Because her eyes were only met by another pair of sympathetic ones.

“Walz,” Dinah whispered, sympathy lacing her voice.

Dinah was the only one that knew about what went on in her house, and she never even knew the half of it. Camila managed to convince Dinah that her step father had only hit her twice, by covering up all of the other bruises that were so blatantly scattered across her body. It wasn’t that Camila didn’t trust people, it was always simply because people never seemed to know the right way to listen anymore. It was only fair to assume that they’d immediately think of calling for professional help when all Camila ever needed was for someone to listen.

“No, no. That wasn’t from him, I swear. One of the pictures on the wall dropped, and it landed right on my shoulder,” Camila lied. She was by no means a good liar, nor had she ever been, but as soon as she gets a new bruise from him, she comes up with a well thought up excuse. Just in case.

“Damn, Walz,” Dinah winced of sympathy pain at hearing her friend’s story.

Camila shut her locker and they made their way to the cafeteria together. Again, Camila had never been a good liar, and Dinah was never stupid or oblivious. Camila was just really good at hiding the truth. And she convinced herself that there’s nothing wrong with hiding the truth.

As soon as Camila started to veer in the direction of the school’s nature area, Dinah yanked at her arm. Luckily not the one with the bruise, but it still hurt. Dinah had always been the stronger of the two.

“Why don’t you come to lunch with us?” Dinah whined.

This is basically routine for Camila and her best friends. The problem was that her only friends were Normani Kordei, Ally Brooke, and Dinah Jane (excluding Lauren) and they all happen to be extremely outgoing people. Where they feed off of constantly being with others; Camila is an introvert, and feeds off of being alone.

“I can’t, Dinah,” Camila said, hoping that her mind would find an easy excuse to say no. The frown on her best friends’ faces was always the hardest part of denying their offer to go to lunch with them.

“Why not? What do you do during lunch anyways?”

“You know how much I don’t like it in there.”

“But if you sit with us, it’s not like you’re going to be alone. Out there, you’re alone,” Dinah stated, referring to the vacant nature area. And she wasn’t wrong, but Camila had always preferred to be anywhere other than that crowded cafeteria—even before she ever met Lauren.

“Not exactly,” Camila muttered to herself as her gaze involuntarily shifted to her shuffling feet. When she looked back up, Dinah’s jaw was dropped to the floor and Camila’s eyes widened; realizing that maybe she had said that a tad too loud.

“Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”

Camila’s nervous heart began to race. How was she supposed to tell her friends that she had been spending lunch with the infamous Lauren Jauregui for nearly a month?

“No, Dinah. It’s not like that. I mean like…teachers pass by…and stuff,” Camila tried reasoning, but Dinah clearly wasn’t convinced. Because Dinah seemed so content with believing that she had a secret boyfriend.

“You know what, Dinah. I gotta go feed my tv,” Camila said, pointing her thumb behind her before practically running off to the nature area.

—-

90 minutes. Camila waited the whole duration of lunch time for Lauren to arrive. She sat under the tree and read Romeo and Juliet, waiting for Lauren to show up. She never did.

As lunch time started grinding to a close, she filled her head with viable reasons as to why Lauren never arrived. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she just left early. Maybe there was a family emergency.

She wasn’t mad at Lauren, just sad that the girl didn’t show up that day. Because as much as she wouldn’t like to verbally admit it, Lauren was slowly becoming her favorite part of every day.

—-

(Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Stay tuned cause I’ll be submitting a chapter to this tumblr page very frequently <3)

[danuwritero]

Your always so opena md curious about Ocs! Tell me about YOURS

They’re all garbage. 

Every one of them. 

Especially fandom ones. All awful. 

But there are a few I’m genuinely proud of so I’m gonna talk a little about them. ((This became a bunch of headcanons I’m so sorry)) 

Shiloh Varela/Xiong Feng ((Put them together because I also love this pairing)) 

Once upon a time Feng’s name was Freddie and the ship name was Shreddie. But then I changed Feng’s nationality/ethnicity and lost the greatest ship name of all time. I guess now they’re Sheng, or Feloh. 

Literally Bob and Linda Belcher from Bob’s Burgers. Shiloh is Bob, Feng is Linda. 

Due to having schizophrenia, Shiloh has terrible short term memory. He would forget to brush his teeth, shower, go grocery shopping and make dinner if he didn’t write little notes to himself that are stuck around the house. He’s still the more responsible and mature one between the two of them. When they eventually have a family he’s definitely the stricter parent and the glue holding everyone together. 

They first met when Shiloh had to visit the hospital for another counselling session and Feng was a nurse just starting his first day. Feng was nervous and making some mistakes and forgetting which nurse/doctor was who and Shiloh helped him out. Mostly because internally he was like what the fuck are you doing???? Do you want to lose your job????? Stop????? And Feng asked if he wanted to grab some coffee sometime, not being subtle with the flirting on who he thought was an off duty doctor or another nurse because of how much he knew but was later told nah that’s a patient, how embarrassed are you? A patient could do your job better than you. 

Feng nearly drowned as a kid and was declared dead for a full minute before reviving. Ever since that day he could see what he believes to be ghosts. He’s also terrified of large bodies of water, like oceans, lakes and swimming pools. The very thought of swimming makes him physically sick.

Feng also enjoys music and keeping fit. He plays piano and the guitar and can sing really well. His parents kind of hoped he’d get into the music business seeing as their family did comprise of a lot of successful musicians and artists, but Feng is nervous around large crowds and suffers from stage fright. Literally the only people he can perform in front of is his family, which includes Shiloh. And with Shiloh it took a full two years before he became brave enough to sing for him. 

Feng still wrote songs and poems for Shiloh though, keeping them all in a small journal until he felt ready to share them. Shiloh keeps every single one and whenever he feels especially shitty he takes them out to read. 

Shiloh was severely abused by his parents as a child, resulting in him being distrustful and closed off from people, especially from figures of authority. He was also later disowned by them after his diagnosis of schizophrenia, them saying they didn’t want a nutcase in their home. He legally got his name changed and never ever talks about them.

Feng has colourful tattoos over most of his body, particularly his back, both of his arms and torso. 

Feng dresses “smart casual” whenever he leaves the house. You know the whole suit jacket over printed tee and dark skinny jeans sort of look. But when he’s home it’s mostly pajama pants/sweat pants and Shiloh’s hoodies and there’s no colour co-ordination. This wasn’t a look he bombarded Shiloh with by the way, it crept in slowly over time. 

Feng is the best cook. Shiloh is alright, like he knows not to burn things and does what the recipe tells him to, but Feng knows how to balance spices/herbs and cooks everything to absolute perfection. Despite his godlike powers over food he’s not the one cooking most of the time. That’s Shiloh. And Shiloh fucking lives for the nights when Feng is in charge of dinner. 

They’re engaged and it was Shiloh who proposed. His brain sort of short circuited when he realized he had that option. He literally stopped everything he was doing to find Feng and be like, “We could get married! We could be husbands!” 

Shiloh is pretty much the house husband. His mental illness means he can’t find regular work. He attends a public college for art and does commission work when he can. Feng and Feng’s family help support them financially.  

Shiloh’s biggest pet peeve is people who tell him his commission prices are too high. His response is always go find someone else then. He makes free art pieces for Feng’s family because they help them out so much to begin with. His clothes are always covered in some paint or chalk or oil pastel. They also always smell like the inside of one of those art and hobby shops.

Artemis Hale ((Thief OC)) 

Is a trans man and has successfully hidden that fact from practically everyone around him for years. 

He’s around his early to mid twenties. 

Rose up in the ranks of the Watch rather quickly due to his successful arrest record. This makes him pretty unpopular among his fellow Watchmen and the criminals of the City. He does not give a shit. 

He isn’t afraid to die and he views people who rely on violence and intimidation to gain respect as cowards and assholes. This makes him pretty much immune to the Thief Taker’s fear tactics. 

He’s good at reading people and has no problems handing control over to another person when they need it. Such as with Garrett and Orion, two people who had reasons to suspect, fear or hate him. He willingly gives them control over their interactions, making himself submissive to them. Something he never does for the Thief Taker. 

Loves researching about the old religions. Pretty much hides his copies of the books the Baron had burned several years before. 

Is a very patient and calm person. Like nothing can rile this fucker. On the rare occasion that it does he just walks away to be pissed in peace. 

He and Madam Xiao-Xiao are close friends, bonding over their shared love of history and the old religions and being transgender. They talk shit about the Thief Taker over tea. Sometimes wine too, it depends on how bad the week was. 

He shares Garrett’s views on murder. Hale will never even consider killing someone unless they have him backed into a corner and he’s got no other options. And every death rests on his conscious. He’ll forever wonder if there was something he could have done differently to prevent it. 

Is a descendant of Artemis from the original trilogy. 

He suffers from resting bitch face and has a one dimpled smile. I see him as something like the Black Knight from Monty Python. 

Thank you so much for the ask! :) 

[theliterateape]

Election 2020: Swimming in Sewage Toward a Different Kind of More Hopeful Cesspool

by Don Hall

8:00 a.m.

I wake up a few hours ago. Slept like the dead. I read through the same bullshit with poll numbers and predictions with the same combination of hope, certainty, uncertainty, and boredom as I did yesterday and the day before. Yeah. Trump is a full-blown dickhead. Biden is a truly nice guy. Will Texas go blue? Do I even know anyone from Texas anymore?

My wife wakes up. She’s helping friends move to North Carolina by helping them drive their shit for the next week as if today is not anything big. She gives me a blowjob and gets a bagel.

I’m not worried about the results of today. I truly am confident that the nation will tip back into some semblance of rationality and dump Trump. I’m more interested to see how it all unfolds and if the deposed Mad King will take a shit on the desk in the Oval as a parting gesture in three months.

I have this image of he and his whole skeleton crew, fully repudiated by a massive and historic blue wave, sitting in the White House like squatters, selling off pieces of our national history on Ebay and hiding from His Majesty as he stomps through the hallways screaming at portraits of presidents past about the unfairness of it all.

In tandem is the image of the cultural left sharpening their knives to go in full attack once Biden is sworn in to remake the country into some bizarre Maoist Shangri-La doing what the Left always does — cannibalize it’s own — while the defeated Republicans pretend they were never in league with Trump but held hostage by him like the rest of us.

Fuck me. This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?

10:00 a.m.

I’m not terribly worried that Trump & Co. will steal the election.

I remember years ago a prominent Chicago poet who dressed and spoke like a rap star telling me “It ain’t the n****rs who talk about shit you have to worry about. They’re all bark and no bite. It’s the quiet ones you need to keep an eye on.”

Trump has been barking about stealing the election for months now and I’m pretty certain a man so overwhelmingly incompetent as the one who completely blew both his debate appearances and fucked up a national response to an epic pandemic so horribly that a retarded child could’ve done better is not going to suddenly reveal that he is an evil genius capable of stealing one of the most televised elections in history.

I’m likewise less concerned about the rabid, angry Trumpers wreaking havoc on the country. They were never in this for a long campaign. They couldn’t even take COVID seriously enough to wear masks. They’ll make some noise, get into some melees for a few days and then slink home and grouse just like their hero.

I wonder what the Antifa crowd will do once Trump is deposed? Start an emo band? Go back to working at Starbucks and REI? I hope they decide to occupy Kentucky and reign terror on Mitch McConnell. It’s a terrible thing to say but the party I’ll throw in my semi-quarantined apartment when Trump loses tonight (this week? Next month?) will be nothing when compared to the full-on Mardi Gras parade I’ll throw when the Evil Senator from Kentucky dies. I’m known to say that I can’t hate someone unless I’ve met them but I fucking hate Mitch.

I read a weird op-ed online that essentially thanks Trump for giving us four years reprieve from the cultural warriors of the Far Left. I wish I read it in a paper so I could wipe my ass with it because an iPad makes for an uncomfortable symbolic gesture.

I shower and get dressed. I’m on shift tonight at the casino so I’ll be dealing with the regular crowd while history unfolds like a soiled sheet and you can’t quite tell if that’s a bloodstain or merely ketchup. 

For our sixth anniversary, Dana got me my eleventh tattoo. She came up with a cool design concept: a Chicago tattoo for my right back shoulder that included the baby in the clamshell from the City of Chicago flag, a light blue background and three of the red six-point stars of Chicago, each representing one of my three decades there. She booked an artist in a very chic studio who happened to be a great trace artist but not so much with the original design thing.

As it stands, it’s a fine tattoo with some elements that look like a child drew them with a Sharpie. Not great but growing on me. But the odd thing is that it being being on back, I don’t see it so I forget it’s there. Reminds me that as Americans we tend to dwell on history but not what is directly behind us. We’ll send Trump packing and immediately forget how embarrassing he was and set into attacking the new administration because it isn’t as brazenly Marxist as we fought for (I use ‘we’ although I actually voted for Biden’s moderation).

12:00 p.m.

Dropped Dana off for her trip. Ran some stuff home. I’m now actively avoiding anything news related. I receive an email that our division of casinos is not putting the election coverage on the screens in our Sportsbooks and I’m relieved.

2:00 p.m.

At the casino now. It’s pretty empty and I’m unsurprised. I’m informed that the larger properties and on the Strip there are special task force groups of LVMPD set up at every location to stem any bad partisan behavior in the casinos. For our property, I’m the task force.

I recall clearly the night four years ago when so many of us were so certain Hillary had it in the bag only to be gut-punched around 9:00 p.m. with the news that Trump had won the thing. Unlike so many, I accepted the result regardless of fact that she won the popular vote. Until we sack up and remove the Electoral College, that’s a legitimate win.

5:25 p.m.

I checked. I couldn’t help myself. The only thing that pisses me off is that Mitch won Kentucky, that sour, putrid fuckface.

Yeah. I really want the Dems to sweep this up. The question I’m asking myself is if we repeat 2016, why? The answer so many gravitate to is that half the country is racist but I’m not buying that reductive bullshit. If I had to guess, half the country doesn’t buy into the identity politic of the Far Left.

Alright. Enough. Optimism. Fucking optimism.

7:30 p.m.

At this point I have to remind myself that Dems voted overwhelmingly early and so many of those votes are still to be counted. I’ll admit, I’m surprised that Trump is even competitive but given my disdain for the Wokesters I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If I can’t take them someone from the rural side of Texas probably hates them as much as I hate Mitch.

I was hoping for a blow-out but it’s looking more and more like this thing will get decided in the courts over mail-in votes.

On the floor, no one is talking about the history unfolding. By now, the place is about half-full and people are far more concerned with getting their comp drinks and hitting payouts. I overhear a couple of guys at the blackjack table. They think the Dems are going down. One thinks it’s because of Kamala Harris. I walk away without saying a word.

If there’s anything we should have learned from 2000 is that, under no circumstances should the Blue concede until every last vote is counted. Every last fucking vote.

I’m finding a bit of Zen. We aren’t going to know who won tonight. In some ways this is a good thing. It means Trump will be wrapped up battling the process rather than losing and tearing shit apart out of petulance. We still have a raging pandemic and our economy is shredded.

The divide in this country is not one of race or racism. The divide is between city mice and country mice. As the picture emerges, the urban centers of almost every state skews left in statewide seas of rural red. It also demonstrates how deeply unpopular the extremes are with the opposing sides. The racial identity politics of the Far Left — you know, the folks who flatly state that all white people are racist — and the strident authoritarianism of the Far Right — you know, the ones who love the police and lotsa guns — are so toxic that equal measures of citizens will vote with little more than a passionate hatred for one or the other despite a host of rational reasons to vote the other way.

9:40 p.m.

We won’t know until later in the week. 

Votes are still uncounted in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania. We wanted a decisive repudiation of Trump and, once again, half the country (and much closer to half than four years ago) took that away.

From one angle, this is the best outcome. Uncertainty as to who won means all those businesses boarded up can breathe a sigh of relief. With no clear winner so far, there isn’t a reason to riot in the streets. A couple weeks of legal battles and ballot counting and the assholes on both sides will get bored. 

I was humbled in 2016. I thought I knew how it would go because I was so certain my worldview was so obviously right that how could anyone not see it so? I’ve been ready for this. Like so many, I felt the surge of certainty once again with the polls and how incredibly monstrous Trump became in the last days of his campaign. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Don’t get me wrong. I still believe Biden will be our president on January 21st, 2021. I just wish it had been an easier road.

[andistillgetbutterflies]

to grief:

I haven’t written here in a while and I think it’s because I’ve felt less sad about life in general. Yea, there are still days where I feel like I’ll never find happiness, but those days don’t out number the ones where I truly feel content. That is until this week. 

I’ve loved watching glee since the beginning. The characters are the same age as me so as I went through high school, it felt like I really knew these characters and are going through it with them. At first, I really loved glee for the songs and the humour and even the teen drama that seemed so relatable yet far fetched to me. My high school had musical theatre, which I was very much involved in, and my friends and I weren’t bullied for it. In fact, we were praised. We were the cool kids and even got away with avoiding school work because the drama teacher loved us so much and would call our other teachers for us. 

Just like the glee characters, there were a lot of “incest” hookups and drama caused by who was dating who and who liked who and who kissed who. But it was a nice way to bond with people who are seniors and get invited to cool parties. 

During the time I watched glee, I realized more and more how much I enjoyed watching Santana’s character. She was witty, sarcastic, and had a no fucks given attitude that always kept her 100% real. I pride myself in trying to be as real as possible so she was definitely a character I drew towards. Throughout the years, even during the horrible season 5 and 6, I still kept up watching the show, mostly watching for Santana. I’d like to say she carried the show, but reality is I saw a lot of myself in her. The more I watched, the more I became interested in the actors. I’ve always wanted to be famous - I mean I did audition for Disney once. So I’ve found myself drawn to the actors, especially Naya Rivera who played Santana on the show. I’ve imagined ways I’d bump into the cast and how that’ll easily transition into a friendship. So I guess my imagination really brought us closer than we were. 

During COVID-19 and quarantine, I decided to rewatch glee again. The convenience of Netflix and me being laid off gave me insomnia and glee was the perfect fix. I get to sing along and relive my high school years and remember why I loved this show so much. I once again started imagining what it would be like if I moved to LA and how I’d be able to befriend them, even after all these years. My obsession came back as if no years has passed between high school and now. So when the news of Naya Rivera’s passing broke, that hit me hard. 

I’ve never understood why people mourned celebrities they’ve never met. I know people cried when Michael Jackson died or when Whitney Houston died. But I never understood it. How can you feel for someone so deeply if you’ve never met them and you don’t even know who they really are? I guess now I know how it feels.

During the days she went missing, I constantly refreshed every social media page I had and the other cast members to see if I would receive any updated news. I constantly had the gut wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard I tried. 

When the press conference finally announced they found a body in the lake and it was her, I lost sense of reality. It was like time stopped and I didn’t want to believe this was real. I constantly felt sad, and every time I refreshed my social media, someone was mourning her which made me more sad. I couldn’t control the tears that were falling down my face and I couldn't, still can’t, grasp exactly why it hit me so hard. She will always be a part of my growing up and I will forever thank her for the excitement she brought me through her character. But that’s not the only reason why I’m sad. 

I’ve always been terrified of death. When I went to church as a kid, a youth pastor pulled each of us aside and explained the concept of heaven. I broke down crying and couldn’t understand what that meant and how that was guaranteed. “Will I see my mom and dad again?”, I asked. I couldn’t fathom that this life ends and that everything I know or have will disappear and I won’t even know or feel it. So to me, everything that means ANYTHING to me at all, I try not to think about it ending. Almost like everything related to me can escape death. So when I found out about Naya, my reaction was, what do you mean she’s gone? How can she be alive yesterday and gone today? I literally just saw her Instagram story and her tweeting. I didn’t, and still don’t, quite understand it. 

As you can probably tell, I haven’t lost a lot of people in my life, or at least people I remember losing. The closest to my memory would be my aunt who was battling cancer, but I was very young and the only grief I remember having is seeing my mother in the back seat of the car bawling her eyes out after hearing a certain song on our way to go fishing. I’d never forget that look. 

And as I continued my grief, silently of course, because my Asian parents would never understand, I thought I’d reach out to my best friend. He’s very special to me and someone that I really fell in love with. The last person I ever loved til this day. We always played phone tag and would check in on each other every now and then. We would always try to be happy for each other on whatever we’re up to and try to encourage each other to chase our dreams. We’re both Gemini’s so we’re ambitious like that. To my surprise, he responded “who is this”. This never happens, because he usually says its him and he knows my number since I haven’t changed it since 2012. That’s when I get a call from him. 

I was hesitant to answer at first because I was nervous. I always got nervous around him, even after all these years. But when I picked up, a woman answered. To be honest, I thought it was his girlfriend and she didn't want me messaging him. He always had a lot of girlfriends, some were crazier than others so I wasn’t too surprised. But, it wasn’t. I wish it was a crazy girlfriend. Instead, it was his mom. 

His mom remembered my name, I even met her once. I was happy to hear that he talked about me to her because it shows that I meant something to him. But I cannot believe what she said next.

“Carter passed away on July 3, we actually had a funeral last Thursday.”

What. The. Fuck. 

As I continue to stutter and apologize for having to put his mom in this situation, I can’t help but wonder what happened. So as I tiptoed around the subject I finally asked, “was it sudden?”

“He killed himself. I try to be honest about it. I don’t know if he told you about his mental health problems, but he’s been sad for a long time.”

I knew about his depression and mental health struggles. I knew that he had a rough childhood and he resented his dad for leaving him. He fought with his mom all the time, and she kicked him out on multiple occasions. But he found love from his grandparents, which are who he stayed with most of the time. I knew all this, but I didn't realize how bad it had gotten. I wish I had. 

Ever since we were kids, I’ve always tried to be a good influence to him. I even tried to convince him to come to summer school with me, which let’s be honest, he barely showed up for school during the year and that was mandatory so why would he ever go to summer school. But he entertained the idea for me, like he always did with everything I suggested. I guess he didn’t want to disappoint me. And as we grew up and grew apart, mostly because he moved and changed schools a million times and I went off to University in a different province, we still kept in touch. He has always struggled with finding a passion and what he wanted to do with his life. First he wanted to make music, which he did for a while, then he turned to art. I thought this would be his biggest break through, his art was amazing. I suggested he should be a tattoo artist since he loved tattoos and is clearly good at drawing. So when we chatted back in March of 2019, he had let me know he is restructuring himself and even went to an open house at OCAD and centennial to enrol if he doesn’t hear back from a tattoo apprenticeship. Then December 2019 came around and he let me know he was in a transitional phase with his art and might want to go into animation so he could work from home. He even suggested he’d come visit me in Montreal. I know he never would, but just the fact that he suggested made me so happy. We even tried to make plans to meet up, I really wish I had pressed him for these plans because maybe he needed to see me for a reason. 

Nothing until now had been a red flag for me. I tried to always be positive and whatever dream he was chasing after next, I tried to be supportive and reaffirm that he did have talent and he will figure it out. But in February, his art on Instagram had taken a darker turn. I didn’t notice at first because he posted sporadically and also the Instagram algorithm only gives you a piece a time so if you didn’t go on his profile you wouldn't see the full picture. But his Instagram story caught my eye. It was a post along the lines of if he died, no one would even care. I immediately messaged him letting him know I would. He said thank you and quickly changed the topic to visiting me again in Montreal. I should’ve said something more. I should've called him because he clearly wasn’t being honest. 

When I moved back home this summer thanks to COVID, something inside of me kept telling me to text him. If only I had texted him a couple of weeks earlier. If only I had reached out to him then. Maybe, this would’ve changed everything.

I always thought we would’ve found our way back into each others lives. I’ve played over a million scenarios in my head of how we’d be as close as we were back in high school. I even imagined the day I had the guts to tell him how much I’ve loved him and how long I loved him for. But now I’ll never get the chance. 

I wish he saw how much he meant to me. How I’d smile when I see his name come up on my blackberry messenger with an incoming text. Or when he’d call me babe even though we weren’t dating. A friend who read over my shoulder used to laugh at me because the way we texted sounded cheesier and more in a relationship than my friend and her actual boyfriend. He always thought he was a ball of darkness, but he never knew how much light he brought into my life. To me, he’ll always be that kid we spent hours in Toys R Us sitting in children couches, hiding from the staff and talking about life. The goofy guy who photobombed a family at the CNE, and when the family saw, they just laughed because that’s just how charming he was. The guy who my parents picked up from his house to drive us to the movies and they even caught us, you behind me with your arms around me while we waited to be picked up (my mother immediately decided to have the birds and the bees talk with me the next day at a Swiss Chalet, thanks for that). And as we got older, we promised to marry each other if we were still single by 30, it was one of those promises we made to each other prompted by a silly rom com. But he didn’t even hesitate. He even agreed to have a skydiving wedding with me and say “I Do” in the air. He was the first person I told about this crazy sky diving onto an island wedding idea and like always, supported me even when I’m out of my mind. To me, he was perfect. 

Right from the beginning he said to me “don’t fall in love with me”, at the time he had a few unfaithful relationships and a few toxic ones. He thought he wasn’t worth me loving him because he would ruin everything. 

Well Carter Avery Benitez, from the day I stalked your Facebook after only meeting you for an evening at your ex girlfriends house and messaged you, desperately wanting to get to know you, there was no way I wouldn’t fall in love with you. You’ll always have a special place in my heart. June 13, 1994 - July 3, 2020, rest in paradise my love. 

[dippedanddripped]

When you think of fashion capitals around the world, the obvious always pops up: Paris, London, Milan, Tokyo, New York. But with a new decade upon us, Los Angeles is staking its claim as a creative force in fashion.

If the ‘70s through early ‘90s was a golden age of the city’s fashion scene, the early aughts took an unfortunate turn when L.A. “style” became synonymous with trucker hats, Ugg boots, and Juicy Couture velour tracksuits. Now, there’s an optimism and an easeful elegance defining the city’s most beloved labels. So much so, that New York-based talent is frequently flocking west for a new point of view under the endless sun and towering palm trees.

But Angelinos have more than New Yorkers to thank for the city’s sartorial rehab and rebirth – it’s largely due to a new generation of designers committed to local production and craftsmanship and taking a grassroots approach to brand-building. From the likes of John Elliott, Amiri, Fear of God, Matias, Les Tien, Elder Statesmen, Rhude, Outerknown and countless other menswear brands that were born in L.A. over the last decade, the community is thriving.

To dive deeper into this phenomenon, MR traveled to Los Angeles to speak with both native designers and ones who have relocated their operations to Tinseltown. We also made sure to stop by as many retailers as we could, although we know we did not make a reasonable dent, as the retail scene in L.A. is growing more and more each day. In fact, with every person we spoke to, we learned of yet another cool vintage store, men’s shop or concept retailer that we had to speak to, but time was our enemy. Nonetheless, we gathered a solid group to help us investigate what’s really going on in the City of Angels.

WHY ARE CREATIVES FLOCKING TO L.A.?

Our first stop, once we landed, was West Hollywood mainstay, Fred Segal Sunset. We met with the retailer’s vice president of men’s merchandising Brian Nyilas, who just so happens to be a former New Yorker. “L.A. is hot right now, not just in temperature,” he says. (Editor’s note: we were visiting in late October when it was around 90 degrees outside). “Nowadays, you can plug in and work anywhere in the world with the help of technology, and this notion has brought incredible people here in recent years from all types of industries. I mean, why wouldn’t you? The weather, versatility of landscapes from beach to mountains, iconic landmarks, and the thriving local economy.”

Nyilas does notes that there is a downside to all of this migration with the increasing prices in real estate and the new influx of more cars, which lead to, you guessed it, traffic congestion.

Later that day we caught up with another former New Yorker, Paul Witt at his downtown Arts District store called Wittmore. He entered L.A. retail through a pop-up shop inside the former shop that Liberty Fairs owned. Witt was only supposed to stay for four weeks, but it quickly turned into a three-month stint and before he knew it, he had his own shop on W. Third Street. Six months later he packed up his condo in Hoboken, New Jersey and hasn’t moved back since.

Witt says that he personally moved out here because he saw the revitalization happening in design, interior, culture, and art and he really wanted to go for it. “I said, let’s just try it and see what happens. If I fail, then at least I took a chance.” And that chance has paid off. Since the opening of his Third Street store, Witt has gone on to open two more stores in L.A., one in the Arts District downtown and another in Malibu.

Moving on to the brand side, just two blocks away from Wittmore’s Arts District location resides the showroom and office of emerging brand BTFL. Co-creative director Alejandro Rodriguez was quick to point out to MR that while he is a native Angelino, he initially tried to start a brand in New York. “I started as an intern at 7 For All Mankind and was also painting sneakers for hip hop artists and celebrities, Rodriguez tells us. “Then a lady approached me to pay for me to come to New York if I help her kid learn about design. Now, as crazy as that sounds, I did it. I found this one factory in the Garment District in midtown that worked with Ralph Lauren, so he seemed legit. But this was around the same time of peak Rocawear and Sean John, so my samples ended up coming back to me in a 4XL, and I knew then that I was going to have issues trying to launch something there.”

“Now, as an established brand back in L.A., all of my factories are supporting me and wanting me to succeed,” Rodriguez continued. “I feel like the manufacturers out here are more willing to work with young designers on their concepts, rather than just turning out what’s hot at the moment.”

For Scott Studenberg, the creative director of fashion label Baja East, the love out West was only a matter of time. He has family in San Diego and has been visiting southern California ever since he was a child. Studenberg felt so drawn to the area that he even started getting tattoos of palm trees, and coined the Instagram handle @scottlovespalmtrees. But, as his business grew, it got more difficult to manage from New York (the brand has always done a majority of its production in L.A.)

Studenberg made the leap and moved out to L.A. two years ago. “We were already producing about 60 percent of the collection out here – my knitwear, wovens, sweatshirts, and terry are all out here,” he told us during a visit to his Laurel Canyon home and studio. “I used to be able to work with our factories via FaceTime, but it just got to be too difficult. Now I can see them whenever I want.

Another New York designer who has made the move, at least partially, to L.A. is Shane Fonner of Palmiers du Mal. He has been living the bi-coastal dream for about two years now and is loving every minute of it. “I have been living n New York for the past 18 years, and if you just look at the sheer physicality of the city, it’s very vertical, and a bit closed in upon, with an obvious lack of nature,” Fonner says. “When I was younger, I could deal with that, but as I got older I was craving space. And in L.A. you can still find a studio to be creative in that isn’t going to break the bank all the while being in a more horizontal, spread-out city.”

“L.A. is a city of optimism,” says BLDWN’s menswear designer Joe Sadler. “The quality of life here is genuinely one of the best in the world. It’s beaches, mountains, cultural diversity and a relaxed mindset put designers at ease. It’s much easier to create when you feel at peace and connected to your environment no matter where you are in the world. California, in general, has always been progressive, adventurous, and inclusive. Designers thrive here.”

For Outerknown co-founder and creative director John Moore, there has always been a great community of artists and designers in the city. But, what’s changed over the years is that other cities are taking L.A. more seriously. He credits this to the recession of 2008 when real estate plummeted, a lot of creatives lost their jobs, and were looking for their next gig. Many of these “lost” artists made their way to L.A. because there were still great spaces, like his brand’s space in Culver City, that was affordable.

“It used to be that New York would be the place I would go when I could scrape together enough money for an inspiration trip,” Moore says. “I would see a little bit of everything and I thought it had the best retail in the world. Now, I can confidently say that Los Angeles would give any global city a run for its money. I still love visiting my friends in New York, but they are quicker trips now. I would much rather go to Tokyo where it seems to still have more of a pulse on what’s next.”

WHAT’S HAPPENING IN RETAIL?

“I couldn’t tell you that there hasn’t been anything but disruption in the past five years in retail here in Los Angeles,” Mark Werts, the CEO of American Rag declared as we ate lunch at his store’s fabulous restaurant. “What’s going on here, and globally, is a mirror of the advancement of technology, a growing number of choices of where people can buy items, political ideas, and cultural ideas. On top of this, the new generation coming up is concentrating more on sustainability so they have a different point of view of how retail should be.”

Werts considers his store as “entertainment retail. “If you don’t create a reason for someone to get off the couch and get in their car to visit your store, then no one will come. It’s that simple,” he says. And, boy, has he created a reason? From antiques to pottery and home goods from all over the world, to vintage fashion, shoes, denim, and a great café, it’s hard to not find a reason to visit American Rag. Werts also noted that he has taken his concept internationally with a location in Dubai, and soon Abu Dhabi. Those locations are amped up even more with the latest technology from smart mirrors to talking robots that greet you at the entrance.

More disruption has come to the city with the movement away from shopping be centered around main boulevards, like Robertson and Melrose, to more of a “destination” model. Almost everyone we spoke with on our trip noted the opening of Dover Street Market in a non-descript part of downtown L.A. that made it okay for other retailers, who didn’t want to be in the now overly commercial shopping hubs, to open stores in other locations that aren’t traditionally associated with fashion. Now you can find great menswear stores in neighborhoods not normally associated with your typical hubs. Sure, West Hollywood, Mid-City, Beverly Hills, Venice, and Malibu are still the major players, but brands and retailers are opening stores in more “local” neighborhoods like downtown, Silverlake, and even Manhattan Beach and Pasadena.

“I think social media has such a big part in what’s happening and why destination retail is becoming so successful,” says Abby Schwartz, the men’s buyer at Ron Herman. “Stores can build a great brand online and create a great turnout without having to be in traditional neighborhoods for shopping in this city. The days of seeing lines outside of stores, may not happen as frequently as it once did, but I still see it. I believe stores that are pushing events and activations to build a community and lifestyle around their store are the successful ones.”

For Witt, he has built his destination store locations around the communities they reside in. “There are 450 apartments in the same complex as this store (Arts District), with 700 more apartments being built across the street,” he says. “Coupled with the top architecture school in the country, SCI-Arc being just across the way, too, there are a lot of potential customers coming through here.” Witt also noted that in the case of his new Malibu location, locals and tourists alike are loving the mom-and-pop feel of his store that offers a larger range of quirky fashion pieces than his other two stores.

And for Fred Segal, it has focused on the curation of the best brands in the business and letting those brands have a say in what their merchandise looks on the sales floor. Nyilas gave us an example of one model where a retailer will essentially lease floor space and merchandise the environment with the product the store buys and gets to set the design (within reason) of that space. He also pointed out his Kith shop on the lower level of the retailer’s Sunset flagship store. Nyilas says when Kith was interested in exploring the L.A. market, they came together with the alignment of similar visions of what retail can be, not about how can we compete with each other.

WHAT’S GOING ON WITH MANUFACTURING?

This topic is the only one where our group of designers and retailers could not agree. Some suggested that the quality of the products being produced in the city isn’t up to par with items being made in Italy or even the Garment District in New York (which also has to do with the shortage of sewers in America). Others argue, that the industry is thriving in the denim and cut-and-sew knit market (the cities bread and butter), but there is still more work to be done to improve infrastructure in order to produce other types of locally-made garments.

What our panel can agree on is that sewing jobs are largely filled by immigrants from Latin America and Asia who little to no training, which can hurt the quality of the production. And, the crackdown on immigration by our administration is hindering the development of this workforce. Especially since most American citizens today don’t want to pursue sewing as a profession. Werts of American Rag brilliantly said, “American kids today want to be YouTube stars, while other kids in foreign countries are dreaming of moving here to become engineers and scientists.” A sign of the times, indeed.

BTFL’s Rodriguez has also noticed a decrease in resources that have contributed to the hard times factories are under. “Factories are shutting down more frequently recently, which, to me, doesn’t make sense since there are more people trying to make clothes here,” he says. “But even the fabric shows, like the LA Textile show, which used to fill the whole 13th floor of the California Mart with fabrics from Italy, Japan, Turkey, etc. I went recently and it was smaller than half the original size. Everybody says L.A. is the new fashion capital, but why isn’t there being more money and more resources put in to sustain this growth?”

Some designers have taken matters into their own hands and started their own in-house workshop, like Matias Sandoval, founder of his eponymous denim brand Matias based in Gardena, CA. “There are still hundreds of sewing contractors, washhouses, machine shops, fabric stores – so many of these dedicated to the denim manufacturing market,” he declares. “But, we decided to do everything in-house at my studio to control the quality and workflow. Plus, it gives us the flexibility to sneak in custom pieces when we need to, but starting out, having this infrastructure was crucial.  You can literally find someone that can make anything here.”

Through our research, we were able to get in contact with one local factory in downtown L.A. that specializes in luxury fashion knits called PDR Knitting. The operation is run by Evita Chu, who started her business by accident (quite literally) 13 years ago when a severe car accident caused her to have to quit her design job and stay home to recover. While she was home, a friend of Chu’s asked her to knit a few sweaters, and they were a hit. Through word of mouth, and several trial and error milestones, Chu now boasts a client roster ranging from fashion clients like the artist Sterling Ruby (who launched his own brand in 2018 called SR Studio LA CA), Fear of God, Reese Cooper, Camp High, Baja East, Grei New York, to home goods and even dog sweaters.

Chu confidently says that she is one of only two or three luxury knitwear producers in the entire United States. Her secret to success is her willingness to work with individual clients on out of the box ideas. She researches their collection and concept, then will direct them to a specific yarn and technique that would be appropriate for their collection. And magic is born.

So, what does all of this mean? It means that L.A. is a place where creatives can thrive through no shortage of opportunities that await them. Will we start saying, “If you can make it in Los Angeles, you can make it anywhere?” We’re not sure, but we can be sure that if nothing else, go explore and get inspired on how you can reinvigorate your own business. Whatever that may be.

[lolbtsaus]

Game (Assassin!Jimin)

Plot: Falling for assassin!Jimin

Word Count: 1382

A/N: so the idea for this comes entirely from this video, I was on youtube and I found it and it instantly made me wanna write this shit like 30 seconds in so I gotta do it for my heart, complete and total props to the creators of that video bc f u c k me that was so nice, I also left the ending open to interpretation, you can kinda decide how it ends so the link for this is assassin!Jimin (here) 

You should’ve known what you had gotten into when you’d met him. His eyes were too confident, his words too witty, his aura too secretive. He was too fluid in his conversation, too prepared. He was ten steps ahead while you were still figuring out the rules of a game you didn’t know you were playing until you’d lost. But a part of you was glad you did, a part of you would do it all over again, as many times as you could.

His hair was black when you’d met him, a black beanie covering part of his head, a pair of glasses at the tip of his nose, a baggy white t-shirt hanging from his body while his jeans clung to his legs. He had his phone in front of him, obviously using it to look at an image while his hand flew across the sketchpad rested on his crossed legs. You took the time to notice every detail you could, not knowing if you’d ever see him again. The rings on his fingers, the simple silver necklace hanging from his neck, the tattoos running down his left arm. You were a barista, you were used to seeing beautiful people come in and out of the cafe, you were used to seeing artists, writers, photographers, any student in the area sat in that same chair he was sitting in now. But he seemed different.

His name had rolled off of his tongue as if it was a foreign word, like he was testing the waters with it. “Jake?”

You wrote the name onto the cup anyways, wondering if it was a ploy to get you to write the name in a weird way for a picture on Instagram. You made his drink, a tea with a sandwich on the side. As you set the cup onto his table, you couldn’t help but notice his drawing, a beautiful koi fish, currently being shaded in to look even more realistic. He saw your eyes on the paper, only giving you a smile before you walked back to the counter. 

You didn’t see him for another two weeks. You had started to think he was another traveler, someone who popped in once or twice and moved onto the next city. And while you were right in a way, he would be here for much longer than most travelers. He had to find who he was looking for before he could leave, he had to do what he’d come here to do in the first place. He would be staying for a while and he figured he could afford to put down some roots while he did. The shortest time he’d be there was two months, that was enough time to have some fun.

It started the next time you saw him. He came in, his hair still black but now covered by a backwards snapback, his glasses still in place, dressed in all black, two piercings now on either side of his bottom lip. His tattoos were hidden by his jacket but that  mean you could give more attention to the tattoo you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d seen him, behind his ear, drawn slightly down his neck to show itself. He lingered around the counter this time, a friendly but confident smile on his face, talking to you and your co-worker. You handed him his cup, he handed you a slip of paper with his temporary number on it.

You saw him again that same night, outside of the cafe where he took you on an adventure. Your arms around his waist, a helmet on your head and the window blowing past as he sped his motorcycle up, revving the engine to get a laugh from you. Down to an arcade, where he competed with you to kill as many zombies as you could, unknown to you, you were playing with an assassin but in that moment, you wouldn’t have guessed it. Then it was down to the beach, where he took you up a trail to view the waves from a higher point. If you had known what his job was, why he was in town, you probably wouldn’t gone up so high, where there were so many rocks at the bottom of the long drop but maybe, in that moment, it was better you didn’t know.

You grew used to seeing him. Months went by and he had stayed, never given any sign that he was planning to leave once his job was done, once his client had gotten what they wanted. You had fallen asleep next to him so many nights, waking up an hour later to an empty bed. You never knew where he went but you’d always assumed he’d just gone home. You didn’t know he’s actually gone out, to find more information for his client, to dig as far down as he could to make sure he did his job seamlessly. It wasn’t his first job after all, he knew he was doing by that point.

It became a routine, he’d stay for a few hours, sometimes bringing over board games and challenging you, sometimes tossing clothes across the room to find later on, sometimes holding you against his chest while the movie continue to play, his lips pressing kisses to your forehead, your palms, your fingers. He could see it in your eyes, he could them lighting up when he came into the room, he could them softening when they looked at him. He could the love you’d begin to have for him, the adoration whenever he talked, the awe when he drew you onto his sketchpad.

He should’ve known that his games were only fun when emotions weren’t a part of them. It wasn’t fun to become connected with someone, to form a bond only to break it when he had to run. It wasn’t fun to fall in love with someone, the way he was falling in love with you, when he knew he’d be gone in just a few weeks. Kisses weren’t as meaningless when there was love involved, leaving in the middle of the night grew harder and sometimes, he found himself holding you for the entire night. He should’ve cut it off while it was still a game because now he was losing.

It was the last job, he decided. Once this was done, he would get to stay. He wanted to stay, for once. He had someone to give him a reason to stay, someone to care for. Those thoughts were only confirmed when you’d handed him a spare key to your apartment, when you’d whispered the three words he’d avoided for so long. Those thoughts were concreted when he whispered them back.

It wasn’t until the night you walked into the bathroom to see him in the shower, rinsing blood off of his hands that everything click into place. The late nights, the mysterious vibe, the lack of bags or any property at all. You’d asked him about it that night, getting the entire story, up until that very moment. He had been a teenager when he’d gotten into it and once he’d realized what he’d gotten himself into, he had already been to deep to just walk away, the same situation the two of you were in now. 

He told you his real name, where he was really from. He told you that at first, he was just meant to handle the money. He was trustworthy, his friends were all there with him, they vouched for him, swore that he could be given the money without worrying. Handling the money turned into wanting it. He grew tired of having to count stack after stack, of having to watch everyone around get richer while he only took home minimum wage, with a bit extra to keep him quiet. He had his friends, who then helped him into the business, training him, showing him their different techniques, their styles.

He told you it was his last client and that was only proven when he walked out of the bathroom a few nights later with bright orange hair, the snake bites in his lip replaced by spider bites.

“So you’re staying?”

“I am, if you’ll let me.”

[balarouge]

Grammy nomination ‘personal validation’ for London music producer | The London Free Press

Just days before Dan Brodbeck is due to attend the Grammy Awards, he’s still waiting for a pinch to wake up from a dream.

But it isn’t a dream and Brodbeck will be among the other nominees at the Staples Center in Los Angeles for the 62nd annual Grammy Awards ceremony.

The Londoner is among the nominees for best rock album of the year for The Cranberries’ final album, In the End. It was released about a year after the death of lead singer and principal songwriter Dolores O’Riordan. The band has since disbanded.

“It is extremely . . . It’s a weird  . . . It doesn’t feel like it’s real. It’s just beginning to settle in,” said Brodbeck, for whom the award is bittersweet because of O’Riordan’s untimely death at 46. They had become friends through more than a decade of writing and recording together.

“I’m sure it’s weird for the band, too. It came right out of the blue for them that, after 25 years making music without getting nominated, they’re nominated for a Grammy.

“And after 30 years in the business, it’s to me like personal validation. It’s obviously an honour. For me, it’s like winning an Olympic gold medal with the (recording) team.”

Initially, Brodbeck didn’t know whether he’d be invited to the ceremony along with others who worked on the album, although it should never have been in doubt given his fingers touched at least eight of the album’s 11 songs, including recording work and a writing credit with O’Riordan for Summer Song.

The only question, now, is whether the 52-year-old married father of two grown daughters wins alongside the rest of the team on the album, including the surviving members of The Cranberries (Mike Hogan, Noel Hogan and Fergal Lawler) and other production members, led by producer Stephen Street.

Other albums up for the rock Grammy are Amo by British rockers Bring Me the Horizon, Social Cues by London, England-based American rockers Cage the Elephant, Trauma by Michigan rockers I Prevail, and Feral Roots by California’s Rival Sons.

Brodbeck taught music production at Fanshawe College’s music industry arts program in 2007-2008, then at the Ontario Institute of Audio Recording Technology in 2009 where he had been a student in the late 1980s, returning to Fanshawe the next year where he is now the program co-ordinator.

Music has been a major focus of his life since he first picked up a guitar at the age of six, influenced by his father, the late Rick Brodbeck, who owned the Music Mart store for years and played guitar “for fun.” Dan Brodbeck’s mother Leslie still lives in London.

“I’ve basically done nothing else since but play guitar,” said Brodbeck, who rejected the idea of touring with bands in favour of submersing himself in the studio.

“I love performing, but I didn’t love the idea of being in a band and touring. But I loved the studio, especially the creative side of it . . . and music. I love music and as long as I’m in music, I’m happy.”

Brodbeck, a graduate of South secondary school, said he learned much of his trade from mentors in the business.

“My training was basically trial by fire and working with some mentors on records, such as David Bendeth, Andy Wallace, Jack Joseph Puig and Michael Brauer, all who mixed records I produced from 2000 to 2006,” he said. “I learned so much from them in the short time I worked with them on those records.”

He founded his own studio, dB Recording Studios, in London and operated it for a decade before he became a partner at EMAC Recording Studios, also in London, in 2000. Over the years he’s worked with many local and national artists, including Helix and its lead singer Brian Vollmer, Garnet Rogers, The Salads, Ivory Hours and Texas King.

Count Vollmer among the fans of Brodbeck’s work.

“When I went to master my first solo album with world famous Nick Blagona, he commented to me, ‘Whoever recorded these tracks for you sure knew what he was doing,’ ” wrote Vollmer in an email.

“It was Danny Brodbeck . . . He always took it to the next level.”

Brodbeck started working with O’Riordan in 2003 on her debut solo album, Are You Listening?, which was released four years later.

The Cranberries’ hits included the songs Zombie, Linger and Dreams. (WENN)

“She had a holiday home in Buckhorn, north of Peterborough (the Irish-born O’Riordan was married at the time to Canadian Don Burton, the former tour manager of Duran Duran), and she was working on a solo project and needed someone to work with,” recalled Brodbeck.

“I got a call and we met at her place in Buckhorn, had dinner and barely talked at all about music. It was about getting along personally and we just hit it off . . . A friendship was very important to her because her previous musical experience was obviously the band and they were very close friends, so if she didn’t hit it off with someone personally, she would not work with them”

He continued working with O’Riordan in Canada and in Ireland, including on her second solo album, No Baggage, released in 2009. They continued to work on music and communicated right up until her death in 2018.

“It never stopped,” said Brodbeck. “I became a partner, musically.”

It was his work with O’Riordan that earned Brodbeck his lone Juno in 2010 for recording engineer of the year for one song on each of her solo albums: Apple of My Eye off Are You Listening? and Be Careful off No Baggage.

Brodbeck said he was “shocked” when informed of O’Riordan’s death, then discovered she’d sent him an email hours before she died. They had just worked out each other’s share of Summer Song.

“Her talent was incredible,” said Brodbeck.

“I could come up with something musically and had an idea of how a vocal melody might go and every time she surprised me. It always went to a way different place . . . . a place only she could take it to. She had an incredible voice and sense of unique melody.“

He said writing with O’Riordan was a “very organic process. . . . For her it was a gut reaction and if (the lyric) didn’t come, she’d throw it away. I remember she said, ‘I have to feel it when I sing it.’ She only wanted to make music that she and I loved. It changed my view of recording music. A lot of people try to force things when they’re in the studio. For her, it was all about the art.”

In her last few years, it was known that O’Riordan suffered physically with a bad back and mentally from a bipolar disorder. At the time of her death, determined to be by accidental drowning in a hotel bathtub, O’Riordan had consumed alcohol but no drugs.

Brodbeck said O’Riordan “hated” celebrity.

“It’s strange when you get to know someone outside the public glare,” said Brodbeck. “Fans look at her as an icon, but she hated celebrity. She just wanted to write and sing songs and be an artist.”

Brodbeck was contacted by the band after her death, since he and O’Riordan had worked on many songs over the years that were never recorded for an album. Those included Summer Song, which he gave to O’Riordan around 2014 with the description of the music as “a summer song.”  She wrote lyrics for it and recorded vocals.

“The band took what we had worked on and made it their own,” said Brodbeck.

“If we actually won, it would be a pretty neat thing and a great way to commemorate (O’Riordan) and cap off the band’s career and for me.”

Brodbeck was in Los Angeles for a music industry trade show last week and has stayed an extra week to attend the awards on Sunday.

His wife Taryn and daughter Taylor, a well-known area tattoo artist, will be at Fanshawe’s The Chef’s Table restaurant on Sunday for a Grammy party where students, staff and friends of the music industry arts program will watch the afternoon Grammy award session when many of the award winners are announced.

“I’m humbled and a bit embarrassed that they’re planning a party for me (and) I’m not going to be there,” said Brodbeck.

“But I’m here and I’m going to the awards.”

This content was originally published here.