#otherwise i just got home from work/grocery shopping and am about to shower <3
Note
I desperately need to see when Killian and Emma get married in catch me if you can please and thanks!
I mean, did you guys really think I could stay away from Catch Me If You Can for long? Obviously not! It was fun to get back into writing this universe (it’s actually been a few months), and I hope you guys continue to enjoy! Feel free to send me prompts of this universe 😊
Found on ao3 | here |
Original story: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40
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May 12th, 2021
“Are we out of milk?”
“We couldn’t possibly be out of milk.”
“I am looking in the fridge, and I don’t see any.”
“Darling, we went grocery shopping – ” Killian sighs and places his hands on his hips as he taps his foot. “Shit, when was the last time we bought food?”
Emma closes the refrigerator door and turns around before pulling her phone out of the waistband of her leggings, thumbing through the screen with her brows pinched together. “It says our last delivery order was April 13th. That was literally a month ago.”
“I mean, technically it was almost a month ago. Tomorrow it would be a month ago.”
“I would really love if you weren’t an ass right now because I’m hungry, and I really wanted a bowl of cereal.”
Killian shakes his head and steps up to Emma, moving into her space and placing his hands on her hips while his head dips down to her neck so he can kiss the skin there. There’s still the slightest hint of the scent of her perfume from last night, and it will never not be intoxicating. Emma will never not be intoxicating.
“It will take us five minutes to get milk, three if we run across the street instead of walking like civilized human beings.”
Emma hums and cranes her neck to give him more access to her while her hands wrap around his waist, nails scratching at his back. “And buy groceries in person like we’re living a decade ago? That seems like far too much effort.”
He nips at her skin in a place he knows she likes. “I’ll make you brownies if we go.”
“You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”
“I know the way to yours.”
“Ooh, that was cheesy.”
“We can buy cheese too.”
Emma scoffs and hits his back before moving her head so she can lightly brush her lips against his, quick and fleeting until it isn’t. Life is always nonstop, but once the season starts, it’s an entirely different ballgame. Literally. Either one or both of them are always on the road, and while their work generally happens at the same time, Killian has training and practice and PT while Emma has meetings that usually happen at the rare times when Killian is home. Then there’s the press Ariel has Killian doing lately, and it’s leaving very little time to stand in the kitchen and curl his tongue around Emma’s while her fingers tug on his hair.
Glorious. God, he always loves when she does that. Her hands are like magic.
“You’re very good at this.”
“Kissing you? I would hope so. Otherwise I don’t know why you would have stayed with me for this long.”
Emma’s smile presses into his. “Two years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”
“Aye, but the marriage license we filled out last week says you’re planning on far more than two years.”
Her lips run across his jaw, and a shiver works down Killian’s spine and settles at the bottom as his jeans tighten. “Divorces work. I could divorce you the day after we got married if I wanted.”
“Would you?”
“I could. It would keep the marriage fresh and spicy.”
“I would really appreciate it if you never described our relationship using those two words ever again.”
“Why? That’s what all the old women tell me when they give me unsolicited relationship advice.”
“People not being able to shut their mouths is the exact reason why I didn’t want to announce the engagement.”
“We didn’t, ah – ” Emma’s body shivers at his touch and he smirks into her skin before his hands move down to her leggings, fumbling the slightest bit until he feels flesh. “We didn’t announce it. I started wearing a ring, and the tabloids put it together.”
“Fucking tabloids are the scum of the earth.”
Killian’s hand moves again as he gently nudges Emma back to the countertops, his lips and his teeth only ever moving away from her enough to speak. Her skin is so damn warm and softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he loves getting lost in her. It’s a high greater than any win.
“This doesn’t seem like we’re getting milk,” Emma sighs as he helps boost her up onto the countertop, “and you’re going to kill your knees.”
He arches a brow even though she can’t see it. “What makes you think I’m about to get down on my knees?”
“Because I know you, and I know what we’re heading toward.”
“Awfully presumptuous of you, Swan.”
“Ah, well, if that wasn’t what you were intending, I’d highly suggest it.”
Killian huffs and moves away from Emma’s neck until he’s kissing Emma, pressing his mouth against hers and drinking her in. He’s the luckiest bastard in the world, and for all of the good in his life, there is nothing better than Emma. She changed so much for him, continues to still do so, and he’d be happy to spend every day of his life with her just like this.
Just he and Emma.
Just them.
He pulls back from the kiss, sucking in a breath of air, before resting his forehead against hers. Her hands are still in his hair, his hands are on the outside of her thighs, and he can’t seem to focus on anything but the way her nose presses into his cheek exactly like it’s always belonged there, like it’s always fit there.
Like she’s always fit.
“Marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me, Emma.” He smiles into her lips and then pulls back enough so he can see her eyes. They’ve always been a ridiculously gorgeous shade of green, but right now, they’ve somehow got a hint of blue. “Right now, today.”
Her hand runs through his hair until fingers are pressing against his cheek. “We have a venue booked for forty days from now, have spent far too long picking out cake because you’re a dessert snob, and I have a ridiculously expensive white dress in the closet. And you want to get married today?”
“I want to marry you every day.”
“You’re on it today with the romantic declarations.”
“Are you saying there’s a day where I’m not?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Killian laughs before kissing Emma again. He can’t seem to stop that. “Well, while I’m having a good day for romantic declarations, why don’t we grab our marriage license, head down to the clerk’s office, and get married? Just you and me, Swan? It’ll be great. We can still have the big party with our family, you can still look gorgeous in that dress, but this would be – ”
“Just us,” Emma finishes for him. She pulls back and stares down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you serious? You want to get married today, twenty-nine? For real?”
“If you’d like. If not, we can wait. We have all of these other plans, and I don’t – ”
Emma smacks her lips against his and cups both of his cheeks. “Let’s get married today. Can you give me fifteen minutes to put some dry shampoo in my hair and change into clothes without stains?”
“What? You don’t want to get married looking like you do?”
Emma winks. “What can I say? I’m a woman of standards.”
Killian chuckles and moves away from Emma until she’s hopping down from the countertop and tugging her shirt down and her leggings up. Her cheeks are absolutely flushed, and she’s got the beginning of beard burn on her chin. “Oh, and twenty-nine?”
“Yeah?”
“I fully expect you to finish what you started here when we get back.”“I was planning on it.”
It takes more than fifteen minutes for them to leave the apartment. Emma decides to fix her hair and put on a little makeup while he takes a shower and trims his scruff, but a little under an hour later, their hands are intertwined as they ride down the elevator to the lobby so they can get a cab to the courthouse. He’d drive, but honestly, parking is awful, and his nerves might be a little too much for that right now.
He plays in front of thousands of people all the time, but he’s got nerves over marrying the woman he’s known he was going to marry since almost the beginning of their time together.
This is decidedly different than playing baseball.
This is not his job. This is his life, their life, and as beautiful as he’s sure Emma will look in her wedding dress that she and Elsa found, she looks just as beautiful now in a long pink floral dress. They’d both debated on jeans and a nice shirt, but then Emma had decided on this dress while he pulled on a pair of navy slacks and a white button-down. It’s as if they’re going on a date or having to dress up for work, but that’s not what it is.
Killian still can’t quite believe that they’re doing this on a random Wednesday when they had so many other plans.
Not that their lives have ever gone according to plan.
“What are we going to do about a witness?” Emma asks as her hand squeezes his over his thigh. “Should we call someone and see if they can show up? Oh shit. Are we telling our families we did this?”
“Do you want to tell our families we did this?”
Her leg starts bouncing. “Not really. I mean, I do, but I – ”
“Want to keep this just between us?”
“Yeah,” Emma sighs, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “I think so. David and Mary Margaret will probably be pissed if they ever found out.”
“Liam and Elsa too. Anna most of all. Oh, shit, Addy and Lucy really will be. We’ll definitely have to wait until after the wedding to tell them.”
“If we ever tell them.”
“Yeah,” Killian agrees, “if we ever tell them. I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone at the courthouse to be our witness. I’m rather charming. I think I could convince someone.”
“Unless they’re a Red Sox fan.”
“We’re in New York.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”Killian squeezes her hand, both to reassure Emma but also himself. “It’ll all be okay. If we can’t find anyone, I’d be happy to marry you tomorrow.”
It’s not long before they’re walking down the hallway of the city clerk’s office and then standing in line with at least ten other couples. Some are in dresses and tuxes, surrounded with families and friends, and Killian checks with Emma one more time to make sure there’s no wariness on her face over them having none of their loved ones here. All he can see is a beaming smile.
“Hey,” someone starts, turning to Killian, “are you – ”
“Aye.”
“Holy shit. Your 2019 win was just…damn, man. That was awesome. What do you think your odds are this year? I know last year sucked, but I’ve got hope for this year.”
“I think we’ve got a chance, but the season just started, you know? Anything can happen.” Killian reaches his hand out and shakes the man’s hand. “Killian Jones. And you are?”
“Ben McKinley. This is my wife, Caroline. We’re here for my brother and his soon-to-be husband.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. Say, Ben, can you do us a favor and be a witness for us since your brother is in line behind us?”
His brows go to his hairline. “Are you two here to get married?”
“Aye, but I’m afraid we didn’t bring anyone with us. You’d be doing us a big favor.”
“We’d love to do that,” Caroline adds in. “And Ben and I promise to be discreet.”
“Well, if it does leak, we’ll know how to find you.” Emma slaps his shoulder until he turns around to look at her. “What?”
“Did you just threaten them?”
He winks. Absolutely not.
It takes thirty minutes before their names are called, and then, within a blink of an eye, the ceremony is being performed and he and Emma are saying “I do.”
He never thought two words would feel so damn good.
He also never thought he’d have to politely be asked to stop making out with his wife in a courthouse, but life is full of surprises.
His wife.
It was all worth it. Every second of it. Of today. Of the past two years.
Everything.
“Hey, Jones,” Emma giggles as they walk out of the clerk’s office, hand in hand just like they’ve been for the past hour. They have new rings on their fingers, and he can’t stop running his thumb over Emma’s wedding band. He’s going to hate when they have to take them off, but it’s all worth it. “You do realize we’re still out of milk, right?”
His chuckle starts in his stomach and works its way all over his body, warming him more than the sun does. “Is that really what you’re focused on right now? Your cereal.”
“Oh, no,” Emma laughs, turning on her heels and wrapping her arms around his neck, “I was thinking of you making me brownies like you promised. I was also thinking of how much I love you.”
His hands settle on her hips. “What was winning in your mind? Your love for me or the brownies?”
“I feel like the answer will disappoint you.”
“Never.” Killian dips his head down and slants his lips over Emma’s, breathing her in. “I love you, even if you love brownies more than you love me.”
“Never,” Emma promises. “I think we’re going to have to run out of milk more often if it leads to days like this.”“I think we’re also out of eggs.”“Huh. Wonder what kind of trouble we’ll get into tomorrow when we go out to get the eggs.”
“Darling, I need eggs to cook the brownies. All this time, and you still don’t know basic recipes.”
Her smile is still the most brilliant he’s ever seen, and the blue is back in those green eyes of hers. “That’s what I have you for.”“Ah, so that’s why you married me.”
“It’s one of the reasons.”“What are the others?”
“Take me home, and you’ll find out.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
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CMIYC tag list: @killianswannn @dorisquinn @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy
#catch me if you can#cs fic#cs ff#cs fanfic#captain swan fic#captain swan ff#captain swan fanfic#Captain Swan
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Along for the Ride (pt. 6)
Author’s Note: It has been a while, so thank you to anyone who is returning to this story! I will apologize for the delay, going back to work has been hectic. With everything going on right now, if reading this and consuming this kind of content helps you to take a break then I’m very glad to provide that. Enjoy xoxo.
Previous Chapters: One I Two I Three I Four I Five I
A lot of time has passed since I’ve been to a party, let alone a party with a horde of strangers. The last time that I was ,what might be defined as, “partying” was during high school. Even though varsity sports were a large commitment, there were always athletes who made it part of their weekly routine to get as hammered as they possibly could on Friday and Saturday night. The football players were the main ones to spend copious hours belligerent, and they turned to the other fall athletic teams to join them. A lot of my teammates were skinny little things who were borderline obliterated within two cups of foamy, cheap keg beer but no other sport could beat them and myself at the beer mile. The athletes were pretty much the only people I partied with because they were the only people I was seeing throughout the year. Yet here I am four years later, having not attended a party since graduation and I was set to attend some random stranger’s party to scope out Tommy’s suggested lead singer.
When Tommy had suggested Vince at dinner last week he went on to explain that he knew him from high school and not from Suite 19 or any other band he played for - which to me was a good starting sign considering that Greg hadn’t worked out. I had not realised I was Tommy’s senior by four years up until he was talking about him and Vince’s high school days. Tommy admitting his age to me really had put things into perspective for myself.
Four years have passed since I graduated and I still had yet to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Upon finishing high school, all I knew with regards to my future was that I needed to be on my own and find myself. To begin, finding out who I was meant that I needed to start from my roots and make my way up. Despite not being completely fit parents, my mother and father were incredibly passionate people. Before the haze of drugs and partying had blinded them, my parents were both madly in love with one another and with music. None of their life was mapped out and planned tediously, otherwise I wouldn’t have been in the picture. When they were seventeen and seniors in high school, my mom found out she was pregnant with me. Even though this put a delay in their goal to travel with the music, it never stopped them. We lived in a 1959 Volkswagen Van and put thousands of miles on it as we traveled from venue to venue following the voices of the 60′s. Of course, we settled down come the fall when the summer tours and festivals died down and I needed to go to school. We would live right here on the Sunset Strip in a shitty little one bedroom apartment. I slept with my parents on a mattress on the floor. During the week I would attend school and they would work at whatever odd job they had found, then come the weekend they would put me to bed and head out for the shows. After their death, I moved in with my grandparents a few hours north of Los Angeles for 7 years until I turned 18. That’s when I set out to find myself. Funny thing is, it’s almost been four years out here and I’m no closer to finding out who I am than the day I left home.
“You’re not that much older than me Janis,” Tommy had said while we were talking about my age, “Mick, when did you graduate high school?” This was another of his attempts to figure out Mick’s age.
“Before your balls even dropped.” Mick was quick to shut Tommy down every time. I smiled at Mick and held out my hand for a fist bump, which to my surprise Mick had returned. Mick was older than the rest of us, but none of us were sure by how much. Even though Mick fronted a bit of a tough exterior, he liked to joke around and have fun like us - He just wasn’t as young as us anymore, it was a different kind of fun.
That night, after the guys had gone back to practicing, I went back to my usual nightly routine. Being that it was Sunday, I didn’t have to go in for work but it also meant that I had to keep my regular sleep schedule since I was due for another 11-7 shift the next day. That left me from the time I woke up at 3:30 pm until 7:00 am to pass the time. This meant that I would have a smoothie and go for a run, come back for a shower and more food and the rest of the time I spent cleaning every nook and cranny in the apartment and reading. Days off though, was time for grocery shopping. There was only one supermarket in the nearby area that was open 24 hours and I was one of the only people who tended to do their shopping at midnight. However, on this night I had company. Nikki came along with me despite the fact that he had work in the morning. It wasn’t until the walk home that I learned the true motive behind the company on the trip. He wanted me to come with them to this party to scout out Vince. At first I was confused.
“Why do you want me to come? It’s your band.” He nodded in agreement, acknowledging that it seemed like an odd request.
“You’ve kind of been along for most of this, so even though it’s not your band I feel it’s only right you come along for the ride.” My continued confusion must have read on my face because he spoke again, “I met Tommy at your diner and you called Mick when I wouldn’t.”
“You would’ve eventually called him yourself, and I’m sure you would’ve met Tommy after your show anyways.” He shook his head at me while we continued walking.
“Janis, I was only in that diner because I was there to see you. Tommy was there by coincidence. I wouldn’t have called Mick either. I would have just let myself be happy I had Greg and went along with it until we became another Suite 19 or London.” I had opened my mouth to reply to him and he cut me off, “I’m trying to say you’ve helped me form this band whether you believe it or not, and I want you there when we’re looking at what could be our lead singer.”
“Then I’ll be there to make sure you get your skinny blonde fucker.” He laughed with me and we continued in comfortable silence back to our apartments. That was almost six days ago, today I stood in the living room of Nikki’s apartment at 4:30 on a Friday waiting for Mick to come so that we could all go to this party. Up until now, I hadn’t really seen Nikki’s apartment, but now that I was in it I realised why. The fact that there were roaches infesting this building was not beyond my knowledge, however I managed to keep them at bay by keeping my apartment clean and the food sealed. The garbage left out by Nikki and the mess all over the place was a haven for all sorts of bugs, evident by the ants and roaches freely roaming the brown carpet (which is supposed to be white). Despite this, I wasn’t assuming that Nikki was 100% a slob - more or less 50% a slob, and the rest I can chalk up to him not knowing any better. I know Nikki hasn’t always had or accepted the type of discipline and skill that a parental figure would instill to keep a tidy home. However, even though I was understanding, it didn't mean that I could bear the smell any longer. Moving out of the apartment, I joined Tommy out on the balcony where he was having a cigarette while Nikki was still getting ready.
“Tell me more about Vince.” I spoke, Tommy turned his head from the view of the Strip to acknowledge my presence. Leaning against the railing next to him, Tommy put his arm around my shoulder. Since our initial encounter at the diner, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Tommy a little bit better when hosting dinners and talking to him. He reminded me of the little brother I never got to have, full of energy and youth. We balanced each other out well in conversations, he was able to get me excited and rambling while I reigned him in but listened intently to everything he had to say.
“Why? Trying to see if he’s worth getting into bed with?” Tommy winked at me, I knew he was trying to frazzle me. “Jeez JJ, you haven’t even seen him yet.”
“Looks are just a small slice of the pie, I need to know if he’s got brains or not” I replied.
“Vince’s brains are in his pants. The thing about Vince is that he’s a great guy to be around if you’re a guy.” He took a drag from the cigarette before continuing, “So just make sure he knows you’re one of the guys.” The red car I knew to be Mick pulled up in front of the complex, so I turned back to the apartment where I had left the door ajar and yelled for Nikki.
“Sixx! Mick is here!” I heard something hit the floor behind him as Nikki emerged from the apartment and closed the door behind him. “You don’t lock your door?” I asked him, genuinely confused considering the equipment they kept there for rehearsing.
“Why would anyone want to steal from me?” He answered my question with another question, which was something I was notorious for doing and he knew it.
“Your equipment is in there though.”
“And? Are the people who won’t even talk to me, who live here, going to steal it?” Being that he was a little snarky today, I figured he needed a reminder of who he was talking to.
“Well I guess whoever wants to take your shit needs to get past all the garbage and the smell first.” I replied, walking down the stairs with Tommy towards Mick’s car. His silence was quite audible and I knew I had struck the right chord.
“It’s not that bad in there!” Tommy was quick to come to his defence, especially considering he would be moving in with Nikki at some point. The two of them had discussed this over dinner not long ago.
“You boys have just been spending enough time in it that you’ve become used to it.” I said. In that moment I realised how badly these two boys needed a voice of reason and guidance around. They thought that it was quite acceptable to live like that. “You’re lucky I’m around, I’ll be the one to stop you from being evicted by the L.A Health Department.”
“Get off your fucking high horse.” Nikki scoffed as we grew closer to Mick’s car. I lifted my foot and pressed it into the crook of Tommy’s knee while pushing my hand into Nikki’s chest to throw them both off balance. They both stumbled slightly as I took off into a run, swinging open Mick’s car door I slid into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go!” I yelled, leaning out the window and laughing as Tommy and Nikki fumbled into the backseat. Despite the fact that Nikki had seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, today he had a smirk on his face as he and Tommy squished their body’s into the backseat of the Mazda. Knowing Nikki, only a little bit, I could maybe conclude he was nervous about whether Vince would work out of not. They sounded good without a lead singer, and I know he wants someone to match the rest of their talent.
“Mick Mars, you ready to go get a blonde fucker?” I asked him, sticking out my hand for a fist bump. He returned the gesture before shifting the car into drive.
“This kid better be good, drummer.” Was the reply that Mick offered as we took off towards the house party. Arriving on the street, the first thing we noticed were the dozens of cars lined up and the second was the noise from down the block. As we got out of the car, Tommy let us know that the noise was Vince. Nikki had commented that he sounded good for now and everyone’s spirits were high. As we entered the backyard, the third thing that we all noticed was how easily these guys stood out in the crowd. The people at this party were very obviously preppy, the colour palette was very warm and looked just like the people I would have hung around with in high school. In fact, if these guys weren’t here then I would blend in quite well. The four of us were stopped in the entrance of the backyard, and I felt a hand on the small of my back as Nikki started making his way into the sea of strangers.
“I want a shot of Jack already and we’ve been here for two seconds” He whispered in my ear as the four of us made our way to the makeshift bar in the middle of the backyard. As we approached the table, Nikki took a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the hand of someone passing by. They turned in protest but then decided against it once taking in the sight of us. Leaning against the table, I was paying attention to the band on stage. The four guys on the stage were playing a cover of Billy Squier’s My Kind of Lover and though it was nothing special compared to the original, I would say the lead singer was using the song to his advantage. The women were flocking to the front of the stage, infatuated with him. Tapping my foot along to the beat, I felt a hand on the small of my back again as the bottle of Jack appeared in my vision. Shaking my head, I gently pushed the neck back towards Nikki. Even though the offer was denied and he didn’t need my attention anymore, Nikki’s hand remained and I was hyper-aware of the fact.
“Fucking cover band?” Mick questioned, sounding displeased.
“Yeah but I’m telling you, I went to high school with this guy.” Tommy continued to vouch for Vince, attempting to convince Mick to see past the exterior. Unlike Mick, I was hearing a voice that could go with the heavy metal these guys have been playing.
“You’re telling me you haven’t played covers to make a cheap buck Mick?” I questioned, looking back at him as he took the bottle of Jack from Nikki. His scowl softened ever so slightly, which served as the silent reply I needed. Tommy and Nikki stepped forward a little away from the table to talk and I stayed there with Mick.
“I know what you mean though Mick,” He glanced his eyes over at me before returning to watch Vince, taking a sip from the bottle. “You want to know if the guy is serious about the music or in it for something else. I get it” He nodded appreciatively, a man of few words. I couldn’t tell if I was on the right track, but when he stuck his fist out towards me I knew I had been right. Quickly bumping my fist against his, I caught his smile as he took another sip from the bottle.
“This isn’t our style.” Mick called out to Nikki and Tommy. The two looked back at Mick before Nikki motioned his hand out to the crowd in front of the stage.
“I don’t care if he can sing or not, look at what he’s doing to those chicks” He replied. Tommy turned his whole body around and came walking towards me with a grin, which I knew was not a good sign.
“Yeah JJ, look at what he’s doing to those chicks. You creaming your jeans yet?” He laughed at how uncomfortable I appeared from his statement. I wasn’t ignorant to the stares from both Mick and Nikki as they awaited my thoughts.
“Blondes aren’t my type Tommy.” I replied, but it didn’t appear that he was letting up on me. Standing next to me as we listened to the tail end of the song, Tommy looked like he had something else to say.
“They might not be your type, but blondes are Vince’s type. You’re my bribing factor JJ.” Tommy said, he tried to walk away but I grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket.
“You are not pimping me!” I whisper shouted at him, he laughed and pulled his jacket out my hand as the song ended.
“We are Rock Candy!” Vince said into the microphone as he exited the stage. Nikki returned to the table beside Mick and myself, his arm going around my shoulder.
“Shitty name” mumbled Mick and I nodded in agreement.
“I heard something about Tommy pimping you out to Vince,” Nikki said low enough that only I was hearing it. Shifting under the weight of his arm I looked up at him.
“ Not only are blondes not my type, but neither is being pimped out” I replied as we watched Tommy and Vince embrace. “His voice is right for you guys, but you’ll need to help him tweak it. Billy Squier is much different than what you guys are playing.” Nikki nodded in agreement with me. The two of us continued to watch Tommy and Vince talk as Tommy pointed back at the three of us before handing him something. He bounded back to us with the type of energy that I envied.
“I gave him the tape to listen to, it’s got my number on it so I told him to call!” Tommy sounded excited, so I took it that the exchange between the two of them went well. For the sake of these three guys and all the hard work that I had seen them putting into this band thus far, I was really hoping that this would all work out for them. More so, I was quite excited to leave this party and return home to relax before my shift began and I would be dealing with the Friday night leftovers from the Sunset Strip shows.
A couple weeks had passed since we had ventured to the pool party to watch Vince, and despite how excited Tommy had seemed, the man with promise had yet to even give them a phone call. With each day that went by, I could tell the guys were becoming discouraged even though they continued to practice every night like clockwork. I tried to keep things constant for them on my part, and made sure that the door was open to welcome them for dinner every night after practice.
The more that I was around the guys, the more I got to know them. Tommy had learned to play in the drums from the high school marching band, but was one of the most musically inclined of the bunch. When Nikki had met Tommy in the diner, I hadn’t noticed the drumsticks he had been carrying, but since then I had taken note that he did in fact always have a pair glued to him. He was constantly fidgeting with them to the point where I had threatened to toss them into the trash if he hit me one more time while twirling them. In typical Tommy fashion he had apologized profusely. He also told me he appreciated that I was so upfront with him about the things he did that piss me off - something he said his parents were not the greatest at. Mick on the other hand, was a bit of a harder egg to crack. All I could really tell about him was the fact that something seemed to bother him all the time, he never looked like he could quite get comfortable no matter where we were. Nikki and I remained on the same page. We hadn’t really had the opportunity to hang out, just the two of us since Mick joined the trio and I was okay with it for now. What was becoming of increasing concern to me though was their love of substances. The past couple of weekends, the three of them came to the diner during my shift after having watched someone playing at the Starwood or the Whiskey, being as loud and obnoxious as I had ever seen them. Carlos always made sure to poke his disapproving head over the kitchen window and give me his signature “fix it” stare. I tried to shovel bread and water into their systems to slow them down, and they would soon leave just as quickly as they entered, with shouts of “you have to come out soon JJ!” and “live up to the Janis name!” echoing as they exited back onto the street. I knew drugs and alcohol were part of the music scene, and I wasn't a stranger to them myself, but I knew when to stop. Since I hadn’t seen them party in person yet, I couldn’t gauge whether or not they knew when to stop, but a gut feeling was telling me that they did not in fact know when to stop.
Today though, was a Monday which meant a fresh start to the week. Feet to the pavement at 4:30 and I was off. The guys always waited until they heard me going down the stairs before they began playing to make sure that I was awake, it was quite the considerate thing to do. Making my way through the streets of Los Angeles, I noticed that it was absolutely sweltering today and the white shirt that I was wearing would soon become quite see-through. The marquees of the Whiskey and the Starwood adorned names that I don’t recognise but that I’m sure Tommy could ramble on about for hours with the aid of Nikki. Those two could give my parents a run for their money when it came for the love of music. I could turn the radio on or throw in a random cassette and as long as it was rock, those two could name the artist, the song, the album and their thoughts within 30 seconds of the song. I had to admit, it was impressive. Rounding the corner that led back to our street, I was ready for a shower. Glancing down at the white shirt, I noticed that my prediction had reigned true. Crossing at the traffic light, there was a beautiful, red 280Z car parked out front the apartment complex. Knowing the people that lived in the building, there was no one with enough money to own that kind of car. Confused, I headed up the stairs while peeling the shirt off my back and tossing it over my shoulder. There was no music coming from Nikki’s apartment, only lots of voices. Continuing up the stairs, I heard a woman’s voice speak.
“I’m just trying to make sure these guys are good enough to play with you baby.” Those were some odd words. Walking quietly, I paused at the ajar doorway. Mick could see me through the crack but I motioned for him to stay quiet. He started into a riff, while a voice started singing, which I recognised as Vince. After only playing for no more than 30 seconds, the same voice called out, “This isn’t right!” She wasn’t wrong. They mumbled among themselves about how they could change the song so that it sounded better. Nikki said something about muzzling that I didn’t quite pick up but judging by the outcry of curses from the woman, it had to do with muzzling her. Mick just started back into the song again, at a faster pace to silence her. They sounded a lot better. As they started getting into the song I recognised it to be “Live Wire” whose lyrics Nikki had shown me over dinner a while back. Figuring that they would be distracted while playing, I opened the door further which let in more light and I leaned against the doorway listening to them play. Nikki and Tommy had noticed and smiled at me before Nikki motioned with his head over to Vince who was just coming to the tail end of the song. “Holy shit” breathed the woman on the couch.
“Holy shit is right, that sounded great!” I exclaimed. Nikki grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically while Tommy yelled out in agreement. Mick in his true fashion just smiled and nodded along. Without even looking at him, I knew Vince was staring at me. Sticking out my hand for an introduction I spoke to Vince, “Janis Jade, you must be Vince?” He took the hand and gave it a firm shake, pausing while opening his mouth to speak.
“Tommy said you would be here,” He glanced over his shoulder at Tommy and back at me, giving me a once over. “And I have to say I’m quite glad that you are.” Glaring at Tommy, he feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders. Damn bastard did try to pimp me out. Dropping Vince’s hand I side stepped him and stuck my hand out for the woman who remained sitting on the couch through all this.
“Janis Jade, I’m Nikki’s upstairs neighbour.” She looked at my hand but did not return the gesture.
“Baby, you better not be getting any ideas with her around just because she’s sleeping with Nikki.” Though she was quite ignorant, I kept my cool. I was as covered, if not more, than some of the people he was talking to at the pool party. Glancing over my shoulder at Nikki who was beginning to open his mouth, I stuck my hand up slightly to signal him to stop.
“My apologies sweetheart, I’m sure my midriff was giving him all sorts of ideas.” Grabbing the white shirt from over my shoulders I pulled it over my head. My sweat had made it so that my cleavage was as bright as day but the rest of my torso was covered. Pulling the shirt taut by the hem so that this was emphasised to her I continued, “There we are.” Letting go of the end of my shirt and turning on my heel, I waved to everyone. “Things are sounding good you guys! I’ll bring down some dinner around 8:30.” The silence in the room was deafening but the thumbs-up of support from Tommy didn’t go unnoticed. Walking out the door, I left the boys to deal with the two blondes.
“I’ll say what we are all thinking. JJ would win in any wet t-shirt contest.” That was unmistakably Tommy’s voice.
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“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”
Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”
“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”
A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out.
Arnold’s Singularity Theory
October 26, 2019
Her back was hunched over the wooden desk beside her bed. The high pitched ringing of her alarm snapped her eyes open at six in the morning. The sky was a navy blue; she could make out the few dog walkers on the street. It was her only day off, but the piled work on her table argued otherwise.
Genevieve was alone in her freezing apartment. The heating was broken and when she told Mr. Goldwin, her landlord, he didn’t have his hearing aid on. She had a routine for Sundays: Wake up. Do practice problems. Make a cup of tea. Sleep.
A dull ache prodded between her shoulder blades, her spine was sorely unaligned. Her face was all sunken cheeks and shades of grey. The sweater bought last month suddenly became a few sizes too big.
The sun created hues of orange and reds. The blue that slowly peeked out at the sides made it seem like a bowl of dirty paint water being stirred. The evening stillness in her flat was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. As she looked out the window, a car zoomed down the road with a blaring radio. An animated lightning bolt was left behind, its speed meant it was gone within a blink. An unsettling feeling made itself a home in the pit of her stomach. She pictured it as swirls, starting off as small slow circles, and eventually growing into sharp hurried edges.
It was probably nothing, maybe university kids having a laugh, but she didn’t have the time to mull over it because the swinging of her front door and jingling of a bundle of keys sounded loudly.
Meena opened the door to her refrigerator and the only thing there was a flickering light bulb and an empty box of orange juice. A high pitched shrill followed.
“Gen!”
Genevieve was out of milk, eggs, and cereal.
She wouldn’t have given it another thought and might’ve ordered take out or popped in at the Smalls’ to split a pizza with Jonah, the neighbour’s kid who she tutored every once in a while. He was the only child of a single dad who worked too many hours at the construction site to make rent. He wasn’t home often and they had a silent understanding of popping in every couple days to keep an eye on him, much like Meena liked to keep tabs on Genevieve. Except, Genevieve wasn’t a scrawny teenage boy who needed to be looked after, something which Meena would refute without a shadow of doubt. At the current state of Genevieve’s flat, the jury would easily side with Meena Ahmed.
Meena had a hand on her hip, her lips pressed in a firm line. She took a deep breath, pinching the carton between her thumb and index finger. “Gen-e-vieve!”
Meena put her foot down and opened the trash can only to find it overflowing. She held back a gag.
“Genevieve!”
After some rustling and movement on the other side of the wall, her feet stumbled out of her bedroom. An unimpressed snarl on her face, Genevieve’s body leaned against the doorway.
“I think by now everyone in this bloody building knows my name,” she said with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. She had not looked away from the pages. She hurriedly scratched an answer to her practice problems before it could float away from her brain. “That’s exactly the information they need to kick me out.”
Meena was in her work out clothes, a bright pink neon top with matching trainers. She looked straight out of a healthy living ad. She had glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, and always smelled of fresh daisies. She had that all American smile and pearly whites that were blinding. She was into juicing, kale, and art history.
“What is this?”
“What’s what?” Genevieve inquired, her eyes glued on the next problem.
When a moment of silence went by and no response was given, her head shot up.
Her eyes flickered from the trash can—she thought she saw something move in there— to the open door of her empty refrigerator. Her lips fell into an O shape.
“When you told me you went to the shops on Tuesday, I didn’t know you were talking about two bloody weeks ago,” Meena huffed as she bent down to tie a knot on the black bag, her nose scrunched up. It was atypical to hear her accent try out British sayings, but amusing nonetheless. “Have you been eating?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I do have instant noodles on the shelf. And I mainly eat at the diner.” Genevieve shrugged, her attention migrated back to her pages. What at first glance looked like to be ten simple problems turned out to be a mess of numbers and formulas that weren’t making any sense.
“That God awful place serves nothing but heart disease! It takes a whole stack of napkins to soak up that grease!” Meena scoffed as she replaced the bin with a fresh bag. On multiple occasions, she had cornered a frightened Walter to discuss his technique and may have even manipulated him to add a vegan alternative to his infamous pancakes. Thanks to Meena, Flo’s now served gluten-free, vegetarian, and no sugar added options. Genevieve firmly believed Walter did it out of fear, but he won’t admit it. “And instant noodles are not a meal, we have talked about this.”
“‘Course they are! An efficient one too.”
“What happened to ‘We’re gonna change things this year, Meena! Real changes! You won’t recognize me by the time I’m done’?”
If there was one thing Meena Ahmed took seriously, it was New Year’s resolutions. She kept every one ever since she was old enough to make them. She hadn’t missed a gym day for the past three years. When she said she would take on meditation, she actually did. When her mind became set on studying abroad in London, on January first, she was boarding a plane.
So when the following December 31st hit and Genevieve was one too many drinks in with Meena, she found herself making empty promises of eating better and taking care of herself. Little did Meena know that to Genevieve, resolutions were much like a two-week free trial. As soon as that time frame was up, you could up and go.
“I put in a solid effort for a week, and that’s what counts!”
“We need to go to the shops. You have nothing here. You need a list.” The pen between Genevieve’s fingers was swiped and the tearing of paper was quick from her notebook. She was also very much into being intrusive. “Let’s start off with the basics. Eggs, milk, bread. Do you want tea?”
“I can do my own groceries! I’m not a child, Meena!”
“Could’ve fooled me. By the looks of it, you’ve been living off frosted flakes. Do you even know where the closest store is?”
Genevieve scoffed and propped herself on the counter with the back of her elbows. “Of course I do, I am very much capable of taking care of myself.”
Meena paused. Her body turned towards Genevieve with her full, utmost attention. Her eyes scanned her from head to toe, Genevieve was being appraised.
She didn’t put effort to hide the worried crinkle forming between her brows. “Have you showered today? Changed your clothes?”
Genevieve wasn’t a slob, but she did let herself go at times. It was something that Meena, who religiously went to get fresh manicures every two weeks, couldn’t quite grasp.
“Oh, sod off! I was just about to run myself a bath before you came barreling in.”
She wasn’t, but Meena didn’t need to know that.
“Hm, what type of tea?” Meena asked after rolling her eyes dismissively.
“Green, please.”
“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”
Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”
“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”
A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. She sighed, getting Meena to budge was a faraway dream. She rubbed her strained eyes as Meena listed off something about the lack of vitamins in her diet. She was now on a tangent explaining how an increase in omega-3 and healthy fats in her diet could be beneficial when Genevieve's front door knob jiggled. There was a grunt and a strategic kick to the door, and it flew open.
“Gen!” he panted, his tongue slipped out unintentionally like a dog. His cheeks were flushed a cherry red, probably from the trek up the stairs. Jonah’s backpack was twice the size of him. He wore a shirt with his favourite comic book character, its armpits a shade darker than the rest of his shirt.
He had a ghost white face and his left eye twitched. “Hey, bud, you alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.
Little lungs took in a heavy breath, quite like pulling the handles of a bicycle air pump up.
“I don’t get the trigonometric equations! I have a test tomorrow! Mrs. Hansuld was going over the review in class and it looked like she was speaking Russian— and I know I should’ve been studying last week but they just released the new version of Triton Galaxy X and it was just so beyond cool, Gen. I am already on level twelve, and, well, now I have a test and I don’t know any of it. Nothing. Zero. I don’t think I can even add numbers anymore.”
Genevieve looked at Meena. Her mouth was parted from shock as she blinked at the frazzled boy in front of them. “You’re so tiny… but you, you speak so much and so fast.”
“Um, actually, you’re mistaken.” He raised an accusing finger. His height was a sensitive topic. He was at the stage where all his friends were getting growth spurts and growing like weeds, whereas he had yet to experience his own. “I am almost five foot and that is within the normal height range on WebMD, Docs4You and according to my pediatrician.”
Genevieve found it amusing that his voice reached a higher pitch the more defensive he got. He was a whistle by the end of his sentence. It also didn’t help that his last name was Smalls and kids in school could be cruel.
“‘Course, yeah, I’m sorry. My bad.” Meena nodded quickly. She knew she hit a nerve as she backed up slowly. She scratched the back of her neck. “Um, well, Gen and I were planning on picking up groceries, but I’ll go grab ‘em.”
“Great, I’ll go take my books out.” Jonah dragged his bag like a potato sack into the living room.
“You really don’t have to, Meena.”
“Gen, it’s no big deal,” she brushed off. “Anyway, I don’t think your pal wants me around much. I need an escape and maybe a magazine too.”
When Meena gulped uncomfortably, Genevieve shook her head. She pushed herself off the counter.
“Here take my card.” Genevieve shoved the plastic rectangle into Meena’s hand. A comforting squeeze was given. “If you get him one of those milk chocolate bars, he will forgive you in ten minutes tops.”
“Right,” Meena laughed. “I’ll be back in no time.”
***
October 27, 2019
There was a buzzing.
The room was swallowed in darkness, the crescent moon that hung behind the window didn’t provide enough light to warrant a quick search. It was enough of a reason for Genevieve to shut her half opened lids.
Except that the buzzing began again.
Genevieve groaned into her pillow until the nuisance came to a full stop. Whoever was beckoning her attention could do without it until the sun came up. There was an ache in her neck from the poor posture that her body folded in. To top it off, she had an 8:00 a.m. class. There were not enough hours in the night so she was clinging on to any thread of peace. She tossed and turned until she got the sheets pooled around her in just the right way.
Just when Genevieve was about to slip into the blissful state of unconsciousness, the aggravating buzz started once more. The less than pleased frown on her lips could surely make fresh flowers wilt. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she moved her duvet to find the pesky device. Genevieve lived in a shithole. Labelling her room a shoe box would be bordering glamorous. Although, it did make it easier to find things.
It took a couple of shuffles and twists to hear the thud of a screen colliding against the floorboard. The damn thing was still ringing. The brightness on the unknown caller screen made her face glow blue and the back of her eyes burn; she shut them while blindly hitting the green circle.
“Hm?” Her voice croaked.
“You know the time I got you out of a thing?”
Their words were slurred and the glowing digits on her windowsill read 5:26 a.m. This meant one thing only. “No, sorry. Wrong number.”
Genevieve brought the phone away from her face, and just as her finger hovered over the red circle, a needy yelp cried out.
“Gen! Don’t hang up!”
Her eyes rolled with an aggravated sigh, fingers reluctantly pressing the device to the side of her head. There was sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.“What do you want, Niall?”
“You see, I’m in this predicament… and I might need someone sober and with a car.”
“Then call a bloody Uber. Who do you think I am?”
“Look, I thought that. But—”
There was rustling on the other side. After some bickering, another voice spoke through the line.
“Gen, come get this tosser or else he will pass out on my floor. I swear, I’ll lock up with him inside.”
“How bad is he?” Genevieve was already pushing aside textbooks on her floor in search of a pair of trousers. With one leg inside and the receiver pressed between her cheek and shoulder, she hopped on her bedroom floor.
“Not good. He is a right mess.”
“I’ll be there in ten. Just keep giving him water, please? Thanks for the ring, Ted.” She knew Niall well enough to know that this wasn’t his bright and shiny idea. If it were up to him, he would pass out on a park bench.
“Got your number scratched on the wall for a reason.” The click sounded on the other side, then the line dropped afterwards.
It was true. If you looked hard enough you could make out the chicken scratched scribbles right under the faux payphone mounted inside The Cabinet, where the beers were cheap and Niall Horan was reachable at the slightest inconvenience that struck his life. Last week, it was because he had failed his mid-term. This week, the problem was blonde and walking across campus and shared one too many of his courses.
“No, Gen, she’s just too gorgeous, it’s unbelievable. I think I am in love.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to happen, but congrats.”
Ted adored Niall immensely when he was bringing more business to the pub and getting the word out, not when he was a blubbering mess on the sticky countertops. He sipped his drinks like water to the point that Ted would morph into a psychiatrist. This happened so often that it had become a ritual. The day Niall stopped burdening him with his problems was a day that failed to exist.
Much like her room, the small flat didn’t have the lights on. Genevieve didn’t need them to navigate her path, her fingers haphazardly pulled on her boots and plucked the bundle of keys from a mug.
Her car, a well-loved hand-me-down, was nothing lavish. It got her from point A to B without much resistance on good days. Her foot eased on the gas, with the route was well versed and memorized. After a couple of stop signs, her destination would be reached. The streets were empty and not one car was spotted at any intersections.
A light breeze roamed around and brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She should’ve brought a sweater, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun and rested on the top of her head. The car door shut behind her as she quickly jogged across the street to where the pub was located.
The street was lonely.
There were only a handful of people that would be up at this hour. This subgroup of people definitely did not include her. She thought she was still partly asleep when there was a familiar figure pacing down the sidewalk towards her. Maybe it was the dark, but even after she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, the slope of the person remained familiar. As they got closer, the once blurred image sharpened, and she felt her stomach flip.
A slight panic arose in Genevieve’s eyes. He was too close of a distance for her to dash through the doors, and it would’ve been clear that she was making a run from him. She doesn’t recall when exactly their encounters began to turn dreadful. But the reality of the situation wasn’t how, it was the fact that they had. This was the second time he stood across from her. The rate of their reunions was at an all time high after years spent apart. It made a heavy weight rest on her chest, her own personal Sisyphus boulder.
Tiptoeing and maneuvering their way around each other was the hardest part. There wasn’t a book in the world that taught you how to stand across someone that you once spoke to every day. There was a time Genevieve could tell what each tilt, rise, and fall of Harry’s face meant. How do you go from sharing friends, laughter, a life, to becoming nothing short of hollow strangers? As they stood across from each other on an empty street, they only shared blank stares.
“Hi.” His breathing was a bit uneven, and Genevieve saw the beginnings of roses bloom on his cheek under the streetlights. His moose coloured hair was tucked under a beanie and there was a slight stubble on his chin.
“You are running?” Genevieve squinted at him. Navy gym shorts hung off his hips and a full sleeve athletic shirt was on top. “At five in the morning?”
Genevieve hated how Harry looked brand new. In the midst of a mountain worth of chaos and hurt, how he managed to look shiny, pre-packaged, and unopened was well beyond her. She had to hold herself together with her bare arms when her seems unravelled. Harry was happier before Genevieve and it was something she had to be okay with. There was no specific reason why. It was just how reality worked.
“By the time I’m done, it will be six. I’ll have to get up anyway.” His shoulders rose and fell in a mindless shrug. Genevieve brought her arms to fold across her chest, her fists cuddled under her armpits to trap heat.
“You’re insane.” Genevieve shook her head. The neon trainers he had on rivalled the brightness of the open sign hung on the doors of The Cabinet. When Genevieve thought she had made enough of an effort at a civil conversation, she turned around to push the heavy glass door. There was nothing else to say to him.
Conversation with Harry wasn’t always a chore. She was able to speak without having to think twice or second guess herself. Now, it seemed like every word led to a dead end of an inescapable maze.
Genevieve accepted that Harry was no longer the person she came to with her favourite songs, books and a cup of tea. She wondered if whatever reminiscent memoir she had in her memory of him served true till today. Her Harry was never the sober driver or the early bird runner. She did not expect him to stay the same. No, that would be cruel. But a small part of her wanted to know if she had known him at all.
Before her weight gave to the door, his voice chimed up.
“You’re drinking?”
“God no, I’m, um—No. I’m here for a friend.” Genevieve paused, a deep breath circled her lungs and helped her string some words together. “He’s gone a bit over the top.” She chuckled. It wasn’t soft and light, but rather felt like sandpaper.
“Oh, right. ‘Course.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck with his fingers. He blinked to the ground, the cracked concrete suddenly became much more of an interest. “I wasn’t— it’s just, I run this route every morning and I never see you and maybe I thought—”
“It’s okay, Harry.” He began to run his fingers through his hair, the beanie scrunched in his left hand. “I really need to help my friend, yeah?”
“Right, I’ll see you around?”
Genevieve left his question hung in the air like forgotten laundry on a washing line. She thought it was better than saying I hope not. She didn’t want to mention that she tried to avoid him to the best of her ability. Genevieve knew his habits, his patterns. She had knowledge about places he went to, so, naturally, she didn’t. It was a triumph for her to go without months of seeing him. But there was only so much she could do. Juggling probabilities of his whereabouts would never assign her a one hundred percent assurance of erasing him, even with a ninety-nine percent confidence interval.
“Genny?” he called out again. The rational part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and walk through the door. Instead, she took a breath through her nose and turned around slowly. She wrapped her arms tighter together as the temperature dropped by the second. “Um, do you think we could talk sometime?”
There was a frailness to his voice. He was nervous. Genevieve knew this because he had made a mess of his hair with the number of times his fingers combed it back.
The next words off her tongue painted a sad smile on his raspberry chapped lips. He looked exhausted, the grey shadows under his eyes beckoned her to not beat around the bush.
“We are talking, Harry.”
Confrontation was a foreign concept to Genevieve. Brushing it under the rug and forgetting about it seemed the best way for her. If it is out of sight, it will be out of mind. But Harry had other plans. He wanted to strip the house down and uncover every corner Genevieve thought to be her hiding spot. It was an intrusion and she didn’t want him to come knocking down doors.
“No, I mean—”
“It was nice seeing you,” she said, her mouth set into a thin, straight line as she held eye contact. They were still the same deep green with golden flecks. She had seen them angry, hopeful, teary, but right now they were desperate.
The slight tilt to her head told Harry not to push it. To leave things as they were. He served as a walking reminder of loss and all the things she wanted to forget. Their situation did not have to go back to a normal distribution; their data was skewed, and the standard deviation was large enough to wedge a significant distance from their past to present.
Change was good, even if it was different. Over time, the further apart she was from him the better it was for her. And she hoped it was the same for him.
No one warned Genevieve that holding a grudge required discipline and so much energy. She felt drained, her bones became weak enough they could snap in half. There was no brochure that outlined the ins and out of the process. Your brain worked overtime to disguise clenched jaws and tight fists without any compensation.
On the surface, everything appeared smooth and stonelike. Beneath, lied the hot white anger. That type of anger was something no one wanted to intentionally claim; it was an orphan. It builds and builds and builds until you cannot see through it. You’re blinded, you’re revengeful.
“Yeah.” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He teetered on the balls of his feet and toes with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. He was debating on what to say next, and Genevieve wished it would be something short and quick. She wanted him to say a casual goodbye that was heard between strangers in a coffee shop or book store. Something that didn’t make her want to burst into a river of tears. “One more thing.”
“Hm?”
“Nice shirt.” There was a quirk to one side of his mouth where a dimple had coined itself on his cheek. It was an innocent compliment. Something a friend might say to another. Before she could give a reply, he had turned around and broken into a light jog.
Genevieve watched his figure become muddy until the darkness hid him completely. It was an odd thing to say, her appearance was something she could give less of a shit about at five in the morning. She had literally gotten out in the clothes she slept in.
Genevieve brushed his words off. She wanted a dry goodbye and he delivered. It was nothing more.
Without thinking twice, she pushed the doors open and warmth from inside greeted her. The pub remained looking the same since she had walked in with her two best mates three years before. It was a hole in the wall, fixed in between a thrifting and convenience store. It littered with mismatched chairs and alcohol stains, a pool table and dart boards lined the further corner, and a random sports channel glowed on the box TV. Niall’s blond hair was easily spotted; it laid on the century old cherry wood bar. The posture his back was slumped on the stool insured neck cramps.
The doors behind the bar came swinging open as the bells above chimed of her entrance. A rag rested on his shoulder and he wore a well loved band shirt from his touring days. For someone who was found frowning on most days, Ted beamed a smile at Genevieve.
“Good! You’re here!” His shoulders dropped in relief as she made her way closer to her friend. “He’s been miserable.”
“Gen? Is that you?” Niall grumbled from his position. “Oh, shut it, Ted. You’re giving me no option but to take my money elsewhere,” Niall slurred as he lifted his head off the wood. There were lines indented on his cheek from his possible snooze.
“Those are empty words.” Ted rolled his eyes easily and used his rag to clean up the surface that Niall previously occupied.
“You know what else is empty, Theodore? This glass!” It rattled against the countertop when Niall dramatically set it down.
Ted’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “I’m not pouring you another drop, mate.”
“Who said it was for me? Have you seen Gen? She looks proper in need of a few.”
With a deep sigh, Genevieve took the stool beside Niall. Her head slowly turned to scan the pub. A place that was the heart of loud laughter and cheers was dimmed down since they were the only ones. With her elbows propped up on the counter, she pressed her index fingers to her temples.
“You do look a bit poorly. Under the weather?”
“No, not at the moment,” she sighed.
“Well, you look like shit,” Niall blurted.
“Thanks, Niall, really.” Genevieve glared with a frown. “Remind me to never do a kind thing for you ever again. Sorry I wasn’t in full glam when you called at ass crack of dawn.”
“Did you see a ghost or something? You look sick.” Niall squinted his eyes and pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger. It was rather quickly slapped away with a snarl. “Ouch!”
“Nothing a pint can’t cure.” A tall glass slid in front of Genevieve. Condensation dripped and pooled on the counter. The frothy foam rested on top and sat at the rim without tipping over. “On the house.”
A Stella didn’t sound like a bad idea to Genevieve. She felt like she deserved one. After all, two encounters with the person she disliked the most was beginning to become exhausting. The car keys weighed down in her pocket, her bones ached and her temples pulsed. A tired yawn stretched her face as the drink laid rested on the cherry wood.
Niall scoffed as Genevieve stared at the drink for a moment too long. “If you don’t take it, I will!”
His fingers crept to grasp the glass, and Genevieve batted his greedy hands away. “Paws off, Niall.”
A cold drink couldn’t hurt, she decided. The first sip eased the tense muscles in her shoulders. Niall found a basket of chips to pick at in the meantime. He probably ordered them to soak up his alcohol intake.
Genevieve could hear Ted in the kitchen. The shifting of pots and pans meant that he was officially closing up for the night. She thought the least she could do was flip the remaining barstools on the counter.
In the two seconds that she had abandoned her glass, she had turned to see Niall gulping like fish.
“No more!” He made a strangled sound as the rim was pulled from his lips. “Don’t need your puke in my car.”
Genevieve threw back what was left of the drink. “You could just pull the window down and I’ll mind me business.”
Genevieve squinted her eyes to catch a better look at Niall and she noticed he was turning a few shades greener. He had on a dopey grin and his eyes were almost shut. Niall became whiny when he got sick, and if Genevieve were to let that happen in the pub there would be no chance of him leaving.
“How about we get you to an actual sink, yeah?”
With an arm thrown over her shoulder and Niall almost near collapsing on her, she yelled a farewell to Ted. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the stove clean but he got the message, yelling muffled goodbye of his own.
The car parked across the street never felt further away. Niall was in his own world, mumbling some drunk words into her hair. Genevieve caught some that thanked her for taking care of him. She took each step slowly.
Getting Niall into the passenger seat was a process, one she thought she had got down pat. She had done everything as planned, put his head to the right, made sure he had enough room to stretch his legs and of course, double checked to see if he had his phone and wallet on him. Apparently, this was taking too long and Niall reached over to slam the door shut.
Genevieve had jumped back just in time that no fingers were caught between doors. She sighed in relief before shooting a glare at Niall. He looked at the fabric that stretched from her stomach. “Oops?”
Genevieve rolled her eyes at Niall, who burst into giggles because it turned out everything was more hilarious at 5:00 a.m. She tugged at the material.
It was old and ratty. It was two sizes too big and hung off her frame, there were stains, holes, some she never remembered putting in herself. It took her a moment, with the fabric bunched between her digits, the gears in her brain set into place. The sharp intake of breath hit the back of her throat and the air on the street suddenly froze.
***
October 27, 2019
“It’s stupid, Gen.” The clicking of a game controller didn’t halt. The animated character on the screen ran towards a glowing torch. Jonah adjusted the headpiece he had on over his ears, probably muting himself so the other kids wouldn’t hear Genevieve lecture him. Beside him sat a bowl of finished popcorn on the sofa, like his player two, and unpopped kernels rattled every time he enthusiastically surged towards the TV screen.
“This is due in two days, Jonah,” Genevieve emphasized. She had unzipped his backpack. His agenda was hard to read, his chicken scratch writing almost made Genevieve mistake a significant date for scribbles. It was for his English class, something that he had yet to mention, which Genevieve found odd because he always told her about his school work. Okay, it was more like Genevieve made sure he told her, but same thing regardless. “How are you planning on starting and editing and finishing it?”
She knew better than to talk to boys in the middle of a game. There was no use. Her experience regarding it only went one way, everything went in one ear and out the other. It was fascinating, really; their eyes would glaze over and for a short ten minutes the real world wouldn’t exist. They would become so immersed in whatever universe was in front of them. It had been once explained to Genevieve as almost the same thing as reading a good book, but with the exception that the player was put in charge of the main character’s decisions.
His tongue poked out at the side and the Playstation keys were innocent victims to his quick jabs. His shoulders deflated when the message on the screen informed him of the scoreboard. He grumbled something under his breath before his miniature joystick highlighted the option to opt for another round. “I’ll edit it while I’m writing it.” He shrugged mindlessly.
“I’m being serious.”
“I am too.”
“What’s up with you? You usually love finishing your assignments for Mrs. Yu’s class.”
“Look how stupid the prompt is,” Jonah grumbled. Genevieve’s fingers were already pulling out a crumpled rubric and pressing it flat so it stayed without folding in on itself. Eyes scanned the short blurb of instructions which Jonah soon summarized. “Pick a month and personify it. What type of pretentious—”
“I think it’s very neat. Creative. Have you selected a month yet?”
“Sure.” His flat tone said otherwise.
Genevieve rolled her eyes at his antics. “If you don’t spend enough time on this, she will give you an easy fifty. That will bring down your average and universities look at that. What will you do then?”
She reached over to the table to take a sip from her water bottle.
The Smalls residence was the same layout when compared to her flat, so it didn’t take long to get familiar to it. Granted, it was more furnished and had Jonah’s gaming consoles already hooked up to use. The latter being the deciding factor of Jonah’s executive decision to procrastinate his work for another week. Usually, Jonah would pop in after school to Genevieve’s, but she had just returned from a shift at the diner and his door was cracked ajar.
Like many days, his father left for the construction site and wouldn’t be back until after dinner, and the only appliance Jonah knew how to use was a microwave. Genevieve had some food which Walter packed for her and it was more than enough to share with a growing boy. His diet was worse than hers. He could go weeks on Pop Tarts and Twizzlers from his cafeteria vending machine. Plus, he wasn’t bad company to have around.
“Easy. Play the dead mum card. Works like a charm.”
Genevieve spluttered the water out, coughing since it had gone down the wrong tube.
“Jonah!”
Her jaw went slack and her eyes widened, a slight worry arose. She wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of parenting—she preferred to see him as a younger sibling— or child trauma, but even she had a hunch that there was something troubling and incredibly off about the way he had referred to the passing of his mother so nonchalantly.
“What?” Jonah asked, dumbfounded.
“You can’t just say stuff like that!”
“‘Course I can. You have no idea the amount of pity and sympathy they throw at your feet. At first, I despised it, because obviously I wasn’t a knocked over puppy like they were making me out to be.” His character on the screen jumped to deflect an obstacle. A triumph smile was the direct result. “But then, I was like what the hell, you know? Like if it’s there already, why not play my cards right and score some sort of advantage from it?”
Genevieve blinked. She tilted her head to attempt understanding his analogy.
“Well, that sure is one way to look at it,” she said after a short pause. “But I am not gonna let you do that to Mrs. Yu. Something tells me you’ve already done it one too many times.”
He paused his game and finally turned to her, giving her more than his side profile at last. A hellish grin split his face. “How else do you think I got a month extension on that book report and a perfect score on our last quiz?”
“I don’t know… I had assumed hard work and honesty?”
“Wake up, Gen! This is the real world and the rules are different in this game!”
“Alright, bud, you’re cut off from this game.” Genevieve pushed the power button on the TV remote that laid limply to her right. The screen became black with a click. Jonah’s back hit the backrest of the sofa, the bouncy cushion slightly propelled him further before absorbing his weight. “Let’s at least get started on a rough copy, how does that sound?”
He groaned with his head tilted back and eyes shut. “Excruciating, torturous, maybe illegal.”
“I’m asking you to get a start on your project, not abducting you.” His pace to grab the rest of his belongings from the table two meters away from him could rival a snail. “Now, do you have a month in mind?”
“I was thinking maybe like February, December, or even October.” He opened an empty page in his notebook and clicked the top of his mechanical pencil to give away some lead. “Because, like, it will be easy to build a character off them because they all have some sort of festive holiday thing to them.”
“That’s a great start. But don’t you think it’s a bit expected? It is a creative piece, so let’s maybe brainstorm something out of the box. Try picking a month that doesn’t have a holiday attached to it.”
He sighed deeply through his nose. The thought of putting in a smidge bit of effort was like pulling teeth.
Jonah had started to doodle in the margins. He drew three tallies, evenly spread, and added another row of them. He then connected them in a way which Genevieve recognizes to be the symbol on a superhero’s chest.
“August?”
Genevieve swallowed a bug.
“Why did you pick that? What significance does it have to you?” Genevieve doesn’t miss a beat, it aided to mask her surprise.
“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “You said pick one, so I did.” He pointed out, his tone reminded Genevieve of how a middle schooler says “duh”.
“Come on. Think a bit.”
“It’s like... sort of like the last month of summer and it brings in fall. Which is the season where we witness life slip away, but barely because it happens so slowly.”
Genevieve’s heart swells for two reasons. Jonah was a bright kid, well beyond his age. It was something he hid and purposefully tried his utmost best not to let shine through. Genevieve had guessed the reason behind his reluctance was mainly because Jonah was at that age where he just wanted to fit in and not stand out like a sore thumb. But every once in a blue moon, he would slip up. When he allowed himself to think out loud, his ideas lined in a way where it wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg anymore. The depth gave away his brilliance.
The first time Genevieve was left speechless by him was when he analyzed one of his favourite comic book characters with an intensity that put the burning sun to shame. Then again when he asked her to edit his essay on a world issue. And once more when he asked her how to approach a girl in his science class that he clearly fancied. Genevieve tried to define this tendency of his as a recurring variable in Jonah’s equation.
In many more ways than one, August held an importance like no other to Genevieve. It was a month that was easily overlooked because it was caught in a war for attention between the summer months and upcoming winter holidays. Its propinquity to strong competition was something that made it easy to forget. If it was a person, she was sure it would be a quiet boy around her age. Probably with a penchant for befriending girls and breaking hearts so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening.
Genevieve hummed in agreement with Jonah.
“Go on.”
“Let’s say if I were to go with this month, I wouldn’t focus on death because that would be something colder, like December or January or like the first snowfall.” His pencil sounded against his notebook. A string of notes were effortlessly coming together as Jonah continued. He suddenly stopped writing and his face scrunched in thought as he stared at the blank TV screen with as much focus that could convince you it was on. “I think August is knowing you’re losing someone or something without the assurance of finding them again... and letting it deliberately happen.”
“Isn’t that almost death?” Genevieve raised a brow.
“Almost, but not quite.” He tapped his pencil to the metal like coils that ran down the side. “August is loss, parting away. You know, something along the lines of donating old clothes, a friend becoming a stranger, even placing car keys somewhere different.”
Genevieve knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn’t really describe the feeling of losing a friend in words with sharp precision. It was the same as repeating a word again and again until it came to the point you deluded yourself into thinking it belongs to another language completely.
Jonah peered up, awaiting a response or another prompt to further his development. Instead, Genevieve smiled sadly and shakes her head.
“What?!”
“Nothing.” She laughed softly, a bit winded.
There was just something about him that was light years ahead. Something so pure and good and applaudable that made you think about the character that so many adults lacked and how it was sitting in front of you in a corked up bottle of a preteen boy. He had lost his mother, his father wasn’t around, he didn’t have many friends at school, and he picked the month of August. He had hit the nail on what it was so eloquently that Genevieve could burst into tears. But she refrained, instead opted to narrow her eyes jokingly his way.
“You’re just too smart for your own good, is all.”
That night she went to sleep thinking about August.
How he probably wore wrinkled shirts so effortlessly, with his hair in a gentle disarray. People would make a note to comment on his ridiculously long eyelashes, but she favoured his eyes. They were round and shiny and reminded her of a cloudy marble, the colour of slate. He was charming but had an air of coyness about him that was inviting and deliberate. With skin the colour of oat and a smile like rain, it came or it didn't, he was a knockout. She hypothesized the variable that contributed to his allure had less to do with his looks and more with how he made you feel.
He made you feel wanted, he made you feel like you were someone.
***
October 31, 2016
It didn’t take long for Genevieve to spot him, his back was slouched against the red brick wall of a tall building. A pair of old wayfarers sat on the bridge of his nose and his arms pretzeled over his chest easily. His jaw went slack then tight, this pattern repeated like clockwork until Genevieve got close enough to notice he was working a piece of gum lazily. With his head tilted to the sky and one leg crossed over the other, he was imitating textbook boredom.
“Do you have it?” Dried leaves crunched beneath the sole of his boots as he unravelled his legs and stood up straighter than before as Genevieve’s figure approached near. She could tell he was raising his brows, but they didn’t make an appearance, still hidden behind his frames.
“Yeah.” Genevieve dipped her index finger and thumb to the front right side pocket of her jeans. It took some wiggling to pluck out a piece of metal, smooth on one side and teeth jagged on the other. The metal was warm when dropped into his open palm. “Why the sudden need for it? Have you finally taken up my advice on actually locking your doors yet?”
It was natural for him to give Genevieve a spare key, a strategy that had served him well on multiple occasions. He had lost his more than once within the span of the first two months of getting his flat. This habit had come to a point that recovery was not an option; he preferred to keep his door unlocked anyway. Genevieve pointed out it was a safety hazard, but he liked to call it being efficient. In between locking himself out or forgetting his own key, Genevieve was a dependable solution.
“Not quite, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” She had seen his long black eyelashes hit the inside of his sunglasses, a clear indicator of him rolling his eyes. “I need it for a friend. He doesn’t have a place to stay for a while, and I offered the couch. Are you done with your lectures for the day?”
“I’m afraid not. Got one more and I’m free,” Genevieve sighed defeatedly. She shifted her bag from her right shoulder to the left. Today, she only had her laptop and one textbook, but the strap of her bag still created red dents on her shoulders from the weight. “Did you end up going to your tutorial?”
He gave her a look that was enough of an answer. His glasses rose on his face as a result of him scrunching his nose up in disgust. The tips of his mouth pulled downwards as sourness glazed his features.
“If it’s before noon, I’m not going; you know this, Genny.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his finger. “Can I tempt you to skip by offering the first round at The Cabinet?”
“It’s like…” Genevieve glanced at her wrist watch. “One.”
“I’m not hearing a no.” He grinned, a smile pressed deeply into his face. “Come on, Gen! You’ll get to meet my pal too. I think you’ll get along really well. And Ted is offering half off today. It’s a win-win. What could be more important than good company?”
“Dynamic Systems Differential Equations, unfortunately.” The course name was a mouthful and her dull tone was enough insight into what it was like.
“That sounds like a migraine.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She laughed sans humour already picturing the formulas needed for her practice problems. “Speaking of migraines, what are we doing as costumes for Hannah Morton’s party?”
He squinted his eyes and paused for a moment. Migraine Morton was a nickname that stuck onto the bottom of your sneaker like chewing gum. “Is that tonight?”
“Well it is the thirty-first of October.” Her arms stretched to gesture towards the building she had exited from. “Do the carved pumpkins and the stick on ghost figures not make that obvious enough?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.” He winced in reply to her previous question. A fingernail scratched at the corner of his forehead. “I was thinking of piggybacking off whatever you’re dressed as.”
Genevieve’s brows creased and her head tilted. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re Frankenstein, I’ll be the doctor.” He pointed to Genevieve and then to himself. “Bonnie, Clyde. Sherlock, Watson.”
“You want to go coordinating? Isn’t that a bit…”
“What?” He prompted with a laugh spluttering from his lips. It was fresh and bright, and Genevieve didn’t know exactly when it would stop sounding like this. He had amusement glittering in his gaze, there was a youthfulness about him that was so prominent and bold. He leaned closer. “Are you too cool to go coordinating now? Don’t tell me you can’t sit beside me at the lunch table too.”
It was ironic because they both knew Genevieve had always chose him to split her fruit roll-up candy since pre-school. In return, he would never pick up the red smarties whenever they shared a pack because those were her favourite, despite the number of times you told her the colour doesn’t affect the taste.
“I don’t know, a bit coupley? I mean, it worked well when we were eight. Would you think Hannah would mind?”
To this, he scoffed.
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Why would she?”
“She’s clearly into you, like a lot, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. And I hear she’s going around saying that she’s your girlfriend.”
He closed his eyes gently and breathes out a sigh. “She’s not my—”
“I know that! You know that! But does she?”
His phone buzzed and the question hung in the air until his fingers stopped their dance on the screen. He looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone.
“Doesn’t matter, she will soon enough.” He shrugged, his voice was distracted and far away. And that was one thing about him that Genevieve couldn’t shake off no matter how hard she tried. He broke hearts knowingly, and did it anyway. “What time do you want me to come pick you up?”
“I’m done with class at five. I’ll have to stop by Party City at six, then do my modules so that will take me till nine, then I—” Rolling tires sounded loudly against the pavement as they approached behind her. The closer they got, the less time she had to finish her train of thought. The radio was a few notches down from its max setting.
“Be ready at nine. No later.” He gripped her shoulders with both hands, brought her close and pressed a messy kiss against her hair. He smelled of cigarettes and toothpaste and beer.
“No, I won’t be, I have to do my laundry and—”
“Great. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
And he was gone. He opened and shut the passenger side of the beat up Honda Civic in two seconds. The driver was familiar to Genevieve, it was another blonde, not Hannah, with thick eyeliner. She was a regular turn up at every monotonous party thrown each weekend. She had seen her get too close to him on more than one instance. He convinced Genevieve to poke in at a few, but the scene was like a broken record and her lack of interest dwindled in them too quickly.
It once even prompted her to bring her textbook to do practice problems to keep her from falling asleep as drunk students lit up a joint around her. Every once in a while he would trap grey smoke in his cheeks and blow it directly on her face to elicit a scowl, something he found beyond hilarious when his inhibitions weren’t intact.
The girl’s hair was knotted and she had a less than pleased demeanour, probably nursing a hangover of her own. She stomped her foot down on the gas. He didn’t even have his seatbelt done before their bodies lurched backwards and the car zoomed out from the parking lot of the mathematical sciences department building. The radio became only a faint sound away the longer Genevieve stood there.
By the time she got to Party City, the student working behind the counter gave her an apologetic look. All the decent costumes were sold out. He led her to the back of the store where the remaining costumes were kept. Being a university student meant she couldn’t break the bank for something so trivial. In the plastic bin lied a pair of fangs and a deflated witches hat that had a tear near the rim. There were masks, but she would be better off by taking a paintbrush to her face.
She sighed deeply, her lips pursing in thought. It was obvious her plans of coordinating were a dream far away. That was until she turned around.
A long hat cowered in the corner. It had thick red and white stripes, she pictured it with eyeliner drawn whiskers and a cat ear headband from last year. Maybe even a red bow around her neck. What really sealed the deal for her was the red shirt hung on a hanger right above it. It had a white circle right in the dead centre. The font within the circle was a recognizable outfit from a famous children’s book character. Bonnie and Clyde, Sherlock and Watson, and now Cat in the Hat and Thing 1.
The relief that came along with not trying to maneuver creating an outfit at home was enough to get Genevieve to run to the till. Arts and crafts were not her strongest suits.
The same guy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her quick decision making. He shut his latest issue of Men’s Healthy Living and leaned his weight off his elbow. He scanned the items and Genevieve handed him the crisp bill. Before he could finalize the sale, Genevieve thought back to the couch friend that would be accompanying them tonight. Did he have a costume? Inferring from the fact that he didn’t have a roof of his own, a lousy Halloween costume was the least of his worries. But Genevieve found her feet trailing back towards the shop and grabbing the shirt that said Thing 2. The guy added it to her final bill and packed her belongings in a black plastic bag.
He was late and Genevieve was thankful that her laundry was dry and folded neatly.
---
© 2019 almondharry All Rights Reserved
Okay, I think I’m done introducing the main characters. We have quite the cast list, don’t we?
Let me know what u think! I’d love to hear your favourite parts and predictions!
Thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner!
Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! Without them, this would be a jumble of fucked up grammar bc I write at 3am. If you want to beta, shoot me a message!
Tag list: @infinitiae @sortaanonymous @sydneysuit @wonderonrepeat @confusedkiwifan @mylifeisatoilet @awomanindeniall @guccikingstyles @verorax @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @at-least-im-1 @mellamolayla @thursday-iminlove @kizsyou @brassharry @kizsyou @thursday-iminlove @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @Hollydays @la-peonia
#1dff#1dff au#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x ofc#harry styles fanfiction#writing#ylsg2#pls lmk what yall thought of this??
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the melodramatic beginning of my climactic end
There are, quite honestly, about a million other ways I had hoped to gain notoriety... and by a million I mean, like, five. Six, tops. Looking back, avoiding my own inevitable would’ve been easy – a literal push; a click, a tap, the fucking pushing of a fucking button (sorry, potty mouth). All I had to do was keep my mouth shut; keep my shit private just as I always had. I had worked so hard to get where I was – where I hopefully still am – and while some people may have deserved at least some part of what they got, some were just the worst kind of collateral damage. To the latter: you will never know the extent of my regret, nor the level at which I now self-loathe. To the former: I’m still sorry, even if you do suck a little.. I know, I know I’m getting ahead of myself.
On that note, I suppose I should start from the melodramatic beginning of my climactic end – my self-imposed downfall, my very clumsy swan dive into public humiliation. Here goes; try not to hate me too much.
Oh, I’ve changed the names of people and places, but the rest is - unfortunately - the truth.
“Well, it’s over! It’s done!” Judy, very melodramatically, intoned while frantically waving her arms, “Edgewood has officially gone to hell in a handbasket!”
I have only just walked into the back door of the bakery and tea house the two of us own together, but I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days – to be fair, most of them are.
“Well, don’t stop now, give me all the dirt!” I know I’m baiting her, but it never stops being fun.
“They robbed my silverware tree!” she offered by way of explanation – the “silverware tree” as we now call it, is the tree that we are forced by the town of Clydesville to have blocking our front door because we live in Tree City USA. We decided to make it festive by hanging all of our gold-plated silverware that was too pitted for use (we are fancy, after all) and everyone had already come to terms with the simple fact that we might as well just throw that silverware in the trash, because once it was out there it likely wouldn’t stay very long.
“Well, don’t let them ever say we don’t give back to our community.” Being flippant probably isn’t the best approach to the situation, but we are nothing if not sassy here.
“Thanks for taking their attack on my decoration seriously” she sighed “I guess I should just be thankful they were careful not to trample my english garden while they robbed me blind.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, I should’ve taken this more seriously” I held up my hands in a placating gesture, “more importantly – who had bets on it lasting less than a month?”
Before she even had time to feign offense, the victor was ready to claim their spoils.
“That would be me!” the victor in question being my friend, and co-worker, Lawrence; or as we all prefer to call him, Law, “E-e-easiest five bucks I eva made!” he took the time to not only grab his prize, but do a somewhat embarrassing dance while doing it, “Ooh, wait, give it to me in singles – I WANNA MAKE IT RAIN.”
“Five singles isn’t enough to make it rain, Law.” I retorted knowingly – honestly because we have tried to do it countless times, and failed miserably. We have the slow-motion videos to prove it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was your personal mission to rain on EVERYBODY’S parade today, Kat. Don’t let me stop you, want me to tell you about my hopes and dreams so you can shoot them all down while you’re at it? Yeesh.” He and I have been friends for so long, this type of back-and-forth is just par for the course. As a matter of fact, if I’m not mistaken, we are actually cousins. It is Wayneswood County, after all, literally everyone is related.
“As long as your so-called hopes and dreams don’t involve proposing to yet another girlfriend, I’m pretty sure I’ll be supportive of them” I know it’s a low blow to hit so early in our little game, but I really do have a reason for coming in to the store today. You see, Law is what we call a ‘habitual proposer’ – he’s been engaged to four different women (only married to one) in his ripe, young age of twenty-eight.
“aye-aye-aye, kick a man when he’s down, why don’tcha?” he pounded a closed fist over his heart in an attempt to make me feel bad.
“I’m not saying I didn’t know it wouldn’t happen, but I just thought people would be nicer. I should know better than to place any expectations on humanity anymore. Oh, well – at least I’ve got more silverware to hang up. No more soup ladles, though, the dredges of society apparently needed to serve some broth.” Judy interjected, still trying desperately to hide her disappointment.
“That or prepare a whole lot of crack!” I jovially added, making a show of shrugging my shoulders and forcing a tight smile.
“Prepare. Prepare?” oh, here he goes “Uh, excuse me, yes Geeves” Law was getting into it now, affecting a posh accept and holding his pinky in the air “prepare us crack, good sir, make it our finest vintage!”
“Soooorrrrryyyyy I don’t know all the hip drug lingo, friendo. I must’ve missed that issue of Street Youth Monthly.” Admittedly, my joke’s weren’t always the cream of the crop.
After receiving looks of pity for my attempt at being pithy, we fell into our daily routine of treading water and getting through the daily deluge of afternoon teas, ladies having lunch, hipster parents trying to force their kids into liking fancy things and the general public needing sweets to keep calm and carry on.
“Our 2:00 afternoon pushed to Wednesday, and changed their reservation time to 1:30.” Judy explained – at the end of the day we all sit down and compare calendars, make notes on scheduling, and make sure we haven’t over-booked ourselves too terribly much.
“Okay, perfect. I got a form submission for a 12:00 highest on the 26th.” I added, looking over my most recent crop of e-mails.
“Hmmm” Judy furrowed her brow in concentration, “No, that won’t work, we’ve got a party of 15 at 12:00 for a Bridal Shower Tea, see if they can move to either 11:00 am or 2:00 pm. Those are the only availabilities.”
“I’ll go ahead and e-mail them.” I responded, tapping a few keys to bring that promise to life.
“We will need someone on June 9th, we have that big pastry order for the store anniversary at Belk.” Judy flipped her calendar, and for the first time I truly realized how close to the end of May we were.
“I also have a wedding that Friday, so we will definitely need to schedule a lot of help because I’ll be down for the count just filling those two orders.” I’m the Pastry Chef, so I shoulder most of the actual baking responsibility, but I always make sure that only I do the wedding cakes. I’m very, very particular about the wedding cakes.
“Can do. Law, can you make yourself available?”
“Already planning on it, boss.” My friend was nothing if not dependable. “Y’all know I ain’t got shit going on otherwise.”
“Thanks, my dude. Did you buy your tickets for the Front Bottoms yet?!” we had only been talking about going to see them for, oh I don’t know, a million years now. I needed him to stop dragging his feet and commit to going with me already. I hate going places by myself, especially Asheville.
“ohmagod, do you want me to buy the tickets in front of you? Do you want me to purchase the gahdang tickets right frickin now so you can watch and make sure I do it, MOM?” like I said, the back and forth never stops with us.
“actually that would bring me great pleasure.” I said, a smug smile taking over.
“FINE.” He yelled, while pulling out his phone with more dramatic flourish than I probably deserved. After a few enunciated taps, he announced he had indeed purchased the ticket (showing me the text for proof) “You’re driving my ass there I hope you know. And buying me a beer – Wicked Weed is right next door and I’m not about to take on a buncha teenage FB fans without some liquid assistance.”
“I’ll do you one better – I’ll buy you a PRETZEL to go with your beer.” I’m feeling very magnanimous, obviously.
The day ended as does every other – with our tiny crew barely holding it together, and counting down the last five minutes like we were in Time’s Square watching the ball drop. Unfortunately for me, though, keeping up morale until 5:00 wasn’t going to be my biggest problem of the day.
The drive home was especially short for me, considering I lived less than a block away from the shop. Yes, I choose to drive - you haven’t been on these mean streets at 3:00 am. I put my little Honda in park, and tried to get all the groceries in one go, something at which I seemed to be failing miserably. Reaching for my key, usually hanging from the tiny cupcake keychain my boyfriend’s niece got me for Christmas a few years ago, I was shocked to look down and see nothing more than a broken bead chain.
Sonofa – “NOOOOOOO not again!!!!” I whined, loudly. Cute it may be, practical it was not – I had lost my house key more times than I could count at this point during our five-year stint in our little Edgewood home.
Micah’s car was here, though, so I could at least just bang on the door until he let me in.
“MICAH! MICAH I KNOW YOU’RE HERE, LET ME IN YOU PUNK.”
-bang bang bang-
-bang bang bang-
“I SWEAR TO CHRIST IF YOUR’E SLEEPING THROUGH THIS I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU. YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET THIS DOOR OPEN”
-bang bang bang-
At this point, my hand was starting to hurt desperately, so I decided that –naturally- the best course of action was to begin kicking the door.
However, one can only punch and kick a door for so long before one decides one looks like a crazy person and the neighbors start peeking out their windows.
I pulled out my phone to begin the task of calling him until he answered, but after the fifth call of incessant ringing, it started going straight to voicemail.
Huh.
I mean, that’s probably nothing right?
“Hey, it’s Micah, I’m either busy or just can’t get to the phone right now – either way, leave me a message and I’ll call you back… or I won’t. Later. Beeeeeeeep”
“Micah, what the hell? I’m sitting outside, freezing, alone, getting really shitty looks from our very terrible neighbors, I lost my key – again. Yes, I know. Your car is here, so I don’t know why you’re not, but I guess just let me know whenever you can. I love you.”
A knot began twisting in the pit of my stomach – our relationship would never be described as “stable” or “healthy”, a fact that my friend who was currently going to school to be a therapist (whatever that’s called – therapy school? Therapist school? How-does-that-make-you-feel school?) was always very quick to point out.
“If someone really loved you, they wouldn’t make you feel this way.”
“If he really loved you, he would make you a priority.”
“People in healthy relationships don’t end up crying on their friends’ couches this much.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. We started dating when I was young – honestly, no frontal lobe development whatsoever – and we got way too serious way too quickly.
What would you do if you were 19 and your boyfriend’s mom made you promise to take care of him on her deathbed? Yeah, that’s right, don’t judge me; maybe I should’ve left years earlier, but sometimes the hardest thing is to do is scream for help when your lungs have filled with water.
So, I sat there. I sat on that porch for five hours and twenty-seven minutes and you can bet your ass if my watch counted seconds I would know those, too.
Finally, the darkness was punctured by a harrowing halogen beacon, said beacon not being attached to any car I immediately recognized, but at this point a literal prostitute could’ve been driving him home and I wouldn’t have cared – the need to urinate was all encompassing and entirely overbearing.
A slow roll, the sound of the door opening and quickly closing, a decidedly female voice offering promises of meeting again soon; the soft crunch of glass-flecked grass from when he accidentally broke two of my solar lights but never bothered to clean it up, the rattle of keys being removed from the same front, left pocket in which they always rested.
“’bout time.” I slurred – admittedly, at some point during my wait I had decided to crack into the beers I had purchased earlier. And by “crack into” I mean “drink all of”.
“jesus!” micah whispered, jumping back and assuming what I can only imagine was meant to be a defensive position, “Kat? What are you doing out here? Christ, you scared the SHIT outta me!”
“Oh, no… are you slightly inconvenienced? Oh, oh, no… I would hate for your date to end on a sour note.” “Date? Oh, seriously, Kat? Really? You’re gonna get mad about me for hanging out with an old friend?” Micah’s mood immediately turned, and I knew it could only be headed in one direction.
“Don’t bring him up.” I warned
“For fuck’s sake” he huffed “so you’re free to throw my female friends in my face whenever you want, but I can’t bring up your so-called… what is it that you call him?” he asked in a mocking tone “best friend forever? Your little bestie? Bestie Bitch?”
“Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, that’s different.” I argued – the same argument we’ve had time and time again.
“Oh, I do know what I’m talking about. I don’t give a shit that you guys have been friends since you were in diapers or whatever you want to claim – that guy is in love with you; he would be at the front of your line, and you know it.” He sneered
“God, Micah, when are you finally going to admit that you’re unhappy? When will you stop trying so desperately to make ‘us’ work?” I pleaded, practically on my knees – because, damn, I was druuunk.
“When will you?”
I can’t explain what happened next, because never in my life have I been that person – the one who is strong enough to walk away, the one who can say no. I can only thank the Stella gods for giving me the distinguished courage to stand up – for, arguably, the first time in my life – and have the self-respect to finally walk away.
“Now.” I blinked, suddenly realizing what I was saying, gathered what remained of my groceries (that I hadn’t eaten or drank) and stood up, ready to take the first step. Ready to make a move solely for myself, without worrying about someone who had never spent a day worrying about me.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Back up… what?” Micah kept doing this ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ blinking and head shaking combination, probably unsure what to do in a situation where I wasn’t a complete pushover, “say that again? I had to hear you wrong.”
“Now.” I said again, much more forcefully, “I’m done. You’re done. We’re done, that simple. I’m leaving – I’ll, uh, come back sometime to get my stuff. I’m taking Penelope and MacGyver.”
“You’re serious? Oh, you sweet, simple little bunny… just like that? Just… done? Where do you think you’re gonna go?” he had turned condescending, and I was not there for that. At. All.
“I told you to stop calling me that, you ass. I’ll find somewhere to stay – so many people have been begging me to leave you and offering their homes as shelter, it’s not me I’m worried about.”
“Well leave your key, I don’t want you sneaking back in here and taking my shit.” Oh, Micah, you always were unnecessarily paranoid. Looking back, it was probably the drugs I didn’t know you were taking.
“I lost my key – if you answered your phone, you’d know that.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay – we can talk this out?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Micah. We’re done. Now, get the hell out of my way, I’m leaving.”
“You can’t drive, you’ve been drinking… you have to stay.”
He had a point, and I’m honestly super terrified of breaking the law, but before he had even finished his sentence, I had my phone out and was halfway to dialing the only person I could consistently rely on.
“Kat, baby? What’s wrong?” he answered – he always answers.
“I’m sorry, Phoenix, I know it’s late… I just” oh, no, the tears. The tears started happening.
“I don’t give a shit what time it is – you can call me day or night, you know that – you just never call.” His voice had taken on a tender quality, probably in response to my sobs.
“I, uh, I… ah, fuck, can you come get me? Please?”
“Absolutely, where are you?”
“Ho-“ Micah cast a harsh glare in my direction, “… um, Micah’s house.” I corrected myself – this place hadn’t ever really been my home, anyway.
“… is that a new place, or a new name for an old place?” I could hear his hesitancy – I didn’t know how to approach this situation, how could I expect him to?
“It’s the same address… just a different situation.” I didn’t really want to get into it, considering Mr. Glarey McGlareson was still shooting eye-daggers at me.
“Give me ten minutes.”
“Don’t speed.” I attempted to sound stern
“Kitkat, I’m coming to pick you up from what I can only assume to be your now ex-boyfriend’s house, I’ll be there in ten minutes or I owe you a bag of chips.”
“I’m timing you.”
“You’d better.”
“Well isn’t that just precious – you’re moving on mighty fast there, Kitkat.” Micah sneered as soon as I hung up on Phoenix.
“Seriously? Don’t. Just, don’t. I’m not the one who got dropped off by another woman.” I warned, but it was hollow – honestly, whoever she was, call that bitch up and I’ll thank her myself for being the impetus for this conversation.
Micah decided it would be better to not wait with me, and I couldn’t have agreed more. He told me he would call me when he felt comfortable with me getting my stuff – I told him I would be by to get my cats by the end of the following week. He snorted some semblance of an agreement, walked up the two-steps to the small porch, stalked through the front door and ended the entire conversation with a slam.
Nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Phoenix’s truck pulled up in front of the 1940s bungalow I wouldn’t sleep another night in.
How magnificent.
“Jesus, P, how fast did you go?”
“What do I need to load? What’s the game plan?” he clapped his hands, rubbing them together like he was either about to do some manual labor or concoct a dastardly plot to take down that do-gooder, Dudley.
“I’m sorry, game plan?” I asked, still pretty tipsy, considering.
“Yeah – let’s get this done, move you out. Why wait?”
“Well, for one, it’s like three in the morning. For two, this wasn’t planned and I haven’t even packed a single shred of anything. I’m not ready, I’ll just come back.”
“What’s in your hands?” confusion echoed across his handsome features. I mean, sure we’re only friends, but I can appreciate a good lookin’ guy, you feel me?
“What?” I looked down, because honestly I had kind of forgotten, “Oh, groceries.” I shrugged.
“That bastard let you go to the grocery store before he broke up with you?”
“Hey! Who says he broke up with me?”
“Kat, girl, it’s you…” head cocked, twinge of guilt, but ultimately not a wrongful assessment
“Yeah, well, ya girl grew a pair tonight. My bitch ass left his bitch ass.” Sassy really isn’t my forte, but I gave it a go.
“Oh, now I need to hear the full story.”
Behind my head I heard a window crank open, that particular window was in the kitchen which looked directly out over the portion of the front yard in which we were currently standing. Phoenix and I both turned from the intruding noise.
“Seriously, guys?” Micah deadpanned from the window – his hair was askew, his eyes red, and a cigarette was hanging from his lips
“DON’T SMOKE INSIDE” Phoenix and I yelled in unison, looking at each other and giggling like schoolgirls
“Yeah, my house, my rules, now seriously fuck off.” And with that little nugget, he stalked off to probably watch porn right in the living room because apparently the house was now a lawless land.
“I really hate that guy” Phoenix noted
“I really know you do.”
“What were you thinking?” he whined
“I have asked myself that every day for the past 5 years.”
The drive to Phoenix’s house took decidedly longer than nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds, probably because we took back roads so we could listen to music longer – something we had always done. There was always singing, usually dancing, and more than a few times there were tears.
After minor protest, he helped me carry in my groceries. Unlocking the door, he flicked on the light to reveal the home he had been pouring his heart into renovating for the past two years. The coffee table was new – he built it.
“Just put the groceries on the counter and I’ll help you put them up.” He whispered
“Thanks – I would say we could just toss them and start over, but these are kind of my only worldly possessions right now, and I’m a little attached.” I whispered back, because duh.
“I understand – it’s hard to not get attached to…” plucking a random box out of my bags, “tender whites popcorn.” He said, still whispering.
“Hey, P, did you get a roommate?”
“Hell, naw, why?”
“Why are we whispering?”
“Ha!” he laughed, louder now, “in my head we were sneaking into one of our parents’ houses. God, sometimes in my head we’re still teenagers.” He was clearly reminiscing.
“I wish things were still that simple.” I released on a sigh
“Well, do you wanna sleep or talk?” he was never one to tiptoe around the delicate
“Honestly? Sleep. I promise I’ll give you the full story over the coffee you make me in the morning
“God” he snorted “you will never change, huh?”
“Here’s hoping.”
“Wouldn’t want you any other way. The guest room is made up, you know the way, I’m hitting the hay. If you need anything, keep it to your damn self because I’m sleepy. Love you, bestie.” He gave me a quick hug – because even after being friends for most of our lives, neither of us was particularly physically demanding
“I love you, too, P. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for saving my ass, again.”
“Anytime, KK.”
We parted ways, him walking to his master bedroom, and me walking to the guest bedroom situated directly across the short hallway.
He paused at his door, and looked back at me “Kat?”
I paused, and turned as well, “yeah, Phoenix?”
“…welcome back.”
“Where had I gone?”
“Nowhere good.” The pain was obvious on his face
“You’re not wrong, bestie. You’re not wrong.”
“You’ll get through this.”
“I always do.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“… you always are” I added before finally closing my door.
I guess, in a way, I was back. Like waking up after a deep sleep riddled with nightmares, full of monsters and shadows holding you down and filling you with a sense of inferiority.
I suppose, in some small measure, this was one of the first monumental moments of clarity in my fog-riddled existence.
I only wish I had stayed up my upward trajectory, stayed full of hope and happiness, kept the lightness of losing a boyfriend-sized weight.
Ah, well, I wouldn’t have much of a story to tell then, now would I?
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RUMBELLE!! Either ours or in general xD
» ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!
Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!
General:
Rate the Ship - Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs
How long will they last? - Forever. Which is basically until Belle dies, or Rumple if he stops being immortal or gets stabbed with his dagger. [Though Rumple has been brought back to life so maybe it wouldn’t be the end.] And even if they aren’t together, their love with endure forever. [Yes I am cheesy.
How quickly did/will they fall in love? - It took awhile for them, but once they did start to fall in love it happened all at once sort of lol.
How was their first kiss? - Magical. Literally. Until Rumple freaked out XD.
Wedding: [Okay for this I am doing what I wish the wedding would have been like instead of the rushed wedding we got in canon.]
Who proposed? - I like to think Rumple would keep trying and failing and then one day Belle would just find the ring and ask Rumple what it’s about and then he’s all “I um... was going to propose.” And then yeah, cute fluff and stuff.
Who is the best man/men? - Bae, Henry, and Jefferson. Henry and Jeff would be more Groom’s men and Bae the best man but yeah.
Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Mulan, and maybe some servants Belle was close to at her castle.
Who did the most planning? - They probably did it together.
Who stressed the most? - Probably Rumple. he wanted to make it perfect for Belle.
How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. And by 3 I mean a nice little outdoor ceremony with only some close friends and people there.
Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Well I figure Hook and Regina, given what they had each done to Belle. Rumple probably didn’t want to invite the Charmings (cause he’s Rumple) but they were inviting Bae and thus Emma so it wouldn’t have been rude not to invite them too.
Sex:
Who is on top? - They switch it up. At first Rumple is more so but the for awhile Belle takes more of the control and then things sorta balance out.
Who is the one to instigate things? - Usually Belle I would think. Idk why. Maybe just that she’s younger? *shrugs*
How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now [They find other things important too but yeah, they do like the sex]
How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head
How long do they normally last? - It depends. Rumple can use magic if he wants to make himself last longer. Or Belle can order him to with the dagger, which he loves. But if not that then pretty average I think?
Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Not really no. They like to make sure they both get an orgasm but so long as they both had fun and are happy they don’t really care if the number of orgasms are equal.
How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. [It varies. Sometimes they are soft sometimes rough. They mix things up.]
How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.
Children:
How many children will they have naturally? - At least one, maybe two or three.
How many children will they adopt? - I am not sure. Rumple wants to adopt because he loves kids and feels bad for the ones who don’t have parents like he didn’t. But he’s not brought that up to Belle so idk.
Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Rumple probably cause he doesn’t really mind it.
Who is the stricter parent? - Belle probably cause Rumple is a pushover.
Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Rumple since he starts staying at home when they have kids cause who needs to run a shop that no one goes to? So he lets Belle work the library. Though if he has something to do in regards to the rental properties the kids go to the library and then Belle would be the one stopping them.
Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Rumple since he’s the cook
Who is the more loved parent? - Both are loved equally
Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Belle. Because she’s more civil with the other parents and people will actually listen to what she has to say.
Who cried the most at graduation? - Probably Rumple. Belle would be happy to see her children going on to decide their own fates. She’d cry a bit but Rumple... yeah. he’d probably be a mess.
Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Rumple. Again he’s the push over XD.
Cooking:
Who does the most cooking? - Rumple
Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither? Belle might have been at first since she was a noble but idk. I am pretty sure the are good with anything. That doesn’t have maggots.
Who does the grocery shopping? - Whoever has time. Rumple more so probably when he’s the stay at home dad. Though Belle will pick stuff up on the way home sometimes.
How often do they bake desserts? - A lot more than they should. Rumple has a major sweet tooth so... yeah.
Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Rumple uses meat as like a side moreso, to add flavor to things and stuff like that. So inbetween I guess?
Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Belle because Rumple gets nervous about planning surprises.
Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Rumple. Belle loves his cooking so she normally likes to stay in. He just sometimes wants a break.
Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Belle
Chores:
Who cleans the room? - They both do I think, when they see stuff is messy.
Who is really against chores? - Neither, though Belle might joke about being against being Rumple’s maid or something XD
Who cleans up after the pets? - If they get a cat Belle, otherwise Rumple will do it. (He’s a dog person XD)
Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Neither, though Rumple is very likely to just magic dust and dirt away, if that counts.
Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Rumple probably. He doesn’t do well with people XD
Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Belle since she does it by hand instead of with magic XD
Misc:
Who takes the longer showers/baths? - It depends. They both enjoy having a long bath on an occasion. And both can go fast when they need to. So... idk?
Who takes the dog out for a walk? - I think they would do this together a lot tbh. Though Rumple may go alone sometimes.
How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - However often Belle says to XD. Rumple doesn’t really care about holidays except that she likes them.
What are their goals for the relationship? - Just to stay close. They are each other’s best friends after all.
Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Rumple. Because he probably stayed up until the wee hours of the morning XD.
Who plays the most pranks? - I think Belle would, though Rumple has some good ones he uses from time to time.
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vanderpump rules, season five, episode thirteen: james needs his jacket, it’s gucci
We’re at Villa Blanca, the klassy older sister of Sexy Unique Restaurant and PUMP, where Lisa is having Tom and Ariana train another bartender on the cocktails at Sexy Unique Restaurant and PUMP. For real, though, these cocktails are 90% muddled and 10% sugar, it’s not impressive. Mostly the reason for this scene is to reveal that Tom is going with DJ James Kennedy, RIP, to hypnotherapy to see if James can learn to control his emotions.
This is Chekov’s Gun1.
James’ mom meets him at something Lounge, and we already know we’re in for a wild ride. James’ mom is... a handful2. James hasn’t been talking to his mom about what’s going on with him, and I can’t see how that’s a bad thing. He hadn’t told her he got fired from PUMP, and his mom is immediately disappointed. She boosts his ego, of course, and blames it all on jealousy - gross. He tells her he’s performing at the Redbury and that he’s going to be rapping, and I got nauseated. I’ve had five shots of espresso today and I’m pretty sure this is what’s making me sick. James’ mom loves Raquel, of course, because who doesn’t love a Barbie doll who never says anything? He brings up how Kristen is talking shit about him cheating - again, this isn’t exactly true, but still, neither of them have a leg to stand on there - and then James’s mom says something horrific.
Essentially, she says that Kristen is going to be barren as karma for her behavior.
Okay.
Okay.
This is so fucked up for so many reasons: A) We really get a deep understanding of James’ hatred for women, because clearly it comes from his mother. B) This is so childish, wishing something like that on another woman. C) The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, James?
I can’t stand that woman, and I really can’t stand James for not recognizing how terrible she is.
Brittany’s mom is leaving! Oh no! I’m going to miss her 1996 Hard Candy frosted lipstick and hoop earrings. Brittany’s mom grills her about the things that were said at the Roast - namely, the cheating stuff. She really wonders if he’s not cheating, and still has other questions for him, of course. Jax gets home from Ralph’s with groceries, namely, “health food”. A few minutes later he’s talking about how the minute Sherri leaves he’s taking his pants off and eating hot wings on the toilet or something like that. I’m sorry, it’s hard to understand Latin3. Sherri brings up Jax being gay, and he denies it vigorously. He’s defensive, and he’s giving mad attitude to his girlfriend in front of her mother. Before he leaves, he again brings up “how much he’s given her” for the last year, and I roll my eyes. THAT’S NOT AN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR ATTITUDE, JAX.
He keeps saying he does “too much” for her, and he feels liks he’s not thankful for it and doesn’t let him do what he wants to do. The best part is that he tries to blame her behavior on “those girls”, i.e, Stassi et al, and Brittany’s mom shuts that shit right down and says she’s the same girl from Kentucky. See? Jax single handedly just proved that he thought she was going to be this nice Southern girl who was going to lay down and take it, and she’s certainly not.
Brittany is a fucking saint, damn it.
Apparently being Lisa’s assistant means helping her paint the VIP room lilac. Apparently “sexy rose” is just… lilac. No complaints on my end. Katie’s talking about some nonsense involving her wedding and then brings up Scheana telling her about how much her bridal shower cost. Even Lisa thinks that’s tacky and recommends she get involved in her bachelorette, otherwise it’ll probably be a mess.
Tom, Tom, Jax, and Ariana all go with their iced coffees to get suits - apparently this is the only thing Schwartz gives a shit about. He wants them in black suits and green ties to match his green jacket and black pants… is this Katie’s idea or Tom’s? ‘Cause I hate it.
The bridesmaids are at lunch, where Scheana gives Kristen her share of money for the bridal shower. Brittany brings up Jax’s behavior, and Stassi tells us she would prefer to be cheated on than have someone fight with her in front of her parents like Jax did. A-fucking-greed. They settle on New Orleans - VEGAS IS NOT AN OPTION - for the bachelorette/bachelor party. Scheana wants it to be a collaborative effort, but Stassi’s designated herself as Resident Trip Planner because… she’s from New Orleans. Scheana accuses Stassi of deciding she’s Maid of Honor despite being on the outs with Katie literally just a year ago. They talk about whether or not it would be awkward for Ariana, and... yeah, probably.
Katie’s at a flower shop with Lisa to look at flowers for the wedding. She wants to spend around $6000 on flowers alone, and I am hyperventilating. She talks about how Tom doesn’t want to spend that much money on pretty much anything wedding related, and Lisa basically says she’s tired of hearing about Katie and Tom’s issues with each other. They need to be a united front to face the world together, not apart. Lisa and Ken have been married for as long as Jax has been alive, so I would trust their word on that. I’m not one who believes in “marriage advice”, because everyone’s situation is different in minute ways but this is just good advice about partnership in general.
Lisa Vanderpump, Motivational Speaker.
Tom and James are getting ready to do hypnotherapy, and James is nervous, and skeptical. He’s not into the mumbo jumbo of crystals and stuff - of course Kristen is, though, I forgot about that - but he’s open to the idea. He doesn’t want to come across as a jerk and just wants to make music. I can’t even begin to describe this hypnotherapist, other than a Julianne Moore caricature on a Tina Fey TV show. Like, Julianne Moore would win an Emmy for playing this hypnotherapist. Anyway, James is cool if it doesn’t work, because he could use a nap anyway.
I hate agreeing with DJ Kames Jennedy!!!!!!!
Scheana and Ariana are at the stables, and we hear about Ariana’s horse, Raven, who she loved. I hate that it explains so much that Ariana is a horse girl, but I’m okay with it in this case. She’s not the worst horse girl I know. She tells us the sad story about her horse, and how it passed away when they were both 30 - I really loved this part of the story - and tells us about how it’s nice to feel supported and loved mutually. Ariana’s fucking great. We get to see her jumping and riding a horse, which is cool. Tom Sandoval shows up, and he claims that it worked for James. Scheana and I are skeptical4. Tom and Ariana are going to a painting class that was going to be a double date, but then Stassi is tagging along. Of course. Apparently, at that very moment, Schwartz and Katie are meeting to talk about their prenup. Scheana, of course, is against them, which says so much about her, and Ariana and Tom are pro. As am I - as a very emotional and vengeful person, I hate to think about the shit I’d pull if I didn’t have a prenup in my divorce. Decide that shit when you’re in love. You’ll be more generous. This is the smartest thing Katie and Tom have ever done.
The most irritating thing is straight off the back when Katie frames an argument of Tom spending $2,500 on a prenup while she’s spending $50,000+ on their wedding. Katie has $200 in the bank, and $4700 in the bank - and no retirement plan. Tom, apparently, has a laughably smaller amount than Katie in the bank. They decide to share custody of the dogs, and Tom complains that being an adult is not fun. Over splitting custody of dogs. Tom is terrible sometimes.
Scheana meets with Ellie, who I forgot about until just now. She tells her about the awkward exchange between her and James, and they decide to crash James’s performance to make him uncomfortable. Again, Chekov’s Gun. Then again, I don’t understand why Scheana feels the need to make James be “accountable for his actions”. She doesn’t even like him? Neither do Jax or Kristen?
Brittany and Jax go to dinner at 10e, which is a Meditteranean restaurant, and thus, neither of them know what to get5 They’re going to church, apparently, and Jax is uncomfortable. He has bad memories of church camp, and doesn’t get why they threw oil on him. I’m not religious, so I don’t know either. Brittany tells Jax about James’s set at The Study, and Jax is gleeful to the point where he can’t even say he won’t fight him.
Tom, Tom, Ariana, Katie, and Stassi are going to Paint ‘n’ Sip, which is one of those places where you get to drink and paint and one time I got blackout drunk on wine there. It’s a good time, I painted a Detroit skyline in the vein of Starry Night6.
Katie equates coloring to painting, and I’m insulted on behalf of Bob Ross. They’re two different things. You’re just a tracer, Katie. The trip to New Orleans comes up, and Tom Schwartz tries to smooth things over between Stassi and Ariana. Stassi is offended that Ariana doesn’t care about her, and Ariana doesn’t have a fuck to give either way, which comes across as condescending. Stassi has this idea that the opposite of love is hate, when the opposite of love’s indifference, and she can’t stand that. Sandoval points out that only you can control how you feel about someone, not how they feel about you, and Stassi cannot haaaandle it. She’s squirming. Ariana literally says "If I wanna be friends with her, then yeah, I'd give a fuck about her opinion,” and they’re shellshocked. The boys and girls are going to be separated on the trip, and Katie gets offended that Ariana isn’t going to be on the girls’ trip.
Uh, Katie? You’re the one who adamantly refused to put Ariana in your bridal party. Pick a fucking lane, dude.
We’re at The Study for James’... debut….as a rapper, god, I hated writing that so much. He’s pumped because he’s got people in his life there, but also, Scheana, Kristen, Jax, Carter, GG, Ellie, and Brittany are there, too! Apparently GG and Ellie are there to call James out, and Jax has an “interior” motive for being there. James is wearing an artfully purposefully ripped or a really worn-out t-shirt he got from his pot head old man roommate, I can’t tell. Tom Sandoval can smell blood in the water the minute Kristen arrives, because there ain’t no party like a Kristen party ‘cause a Kristen party gets someone punched in the face. Raquel, James’ girlfriend, introduces herself to GG, and says she doesn’t blame her for being obsessed with her boyfriend. GG says in response, and this is a direct quote:
“Isn’t it like, a quality of like, a Miss California to be like, feminism?”
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
I mean, the inherent sexism of pageantry aside, this is not even an english sentence. GG insists that Raquel is living in a dream world because that’s the only way James could ever be loyal to her. James comes over as Ellie is introducing herself to Raquel, and then GG also gives him his clothes that he left at her house back. I am such a fan of #pettyrevenge and this is Petty and Veronica, all the way. James says he would never have sex with her and calls her ugly whilst telling her to get out of his face. And then GG slaps him. Kristen and Carter watching gleefully, vodka soda in hand, and SCREAMS at Jax to pay attention, because they know Jax will jump at any opportunity to have a hand in James’s demise. GG continues to fight with James, and Tom Sandoval steps in with the best one liner of the night: “Go get a drink, you’re thirsty as fuck.”
Tom tells the truth: they’re just mad they slept with James7 and that he continually denies it, it never had anything to do with Raquel. For once, James actually isn’t the worst one. He’s still terrible for licking his hand and rubbing it on her face. Fuck you, James. James doesn’t look sober here, either. I doubt he is, I bet he’s hopped up on sizzurp because that’s considered sobreity on Bravo. He goes up to Jax, Kristen, and Carter, and sarcastically thanks them for coming to his show, and calls Kristen ugly. Jax throws his drink at James8, James throws something back at him, so Jax then just leaps on him and goes for the kill9.
Chekov’s Gun goes off.
Kristen tries to hold him back while James takes two people to be held back, and Kristen has him kicked out. James screams and calls them all losers, and Kristen is JOYFUL that she ruined James’ night and got him kicked out of the club. James calls Tom Sandoval’s friends lowlives to his face - he’s not wrong, but what a British way of putting it. He’s pissed at Tom, he’s pissed at Kristen, pissed at Jax. He blames it on jealousy, again - NOT YOUR NASTY ATTITUDE, JAMES? - and begs for his suit jacket as Raquel - who I realized is just wearing a t-shirt - escorts him away. Tom goes over to Jax and Kristen, who are clearly tweaking, and they get mad at him for defending James, but he’s mad at them for provoking him in the first place and then playing dumb, like they weren’t there to ruin his reputation again. Tom says he doesn’t have to be best friends with someone to see that they weren’t there for good reasons.
And he’s right.
Next Week: Jax learns who Givenchy is while they get dressed in drag, Raquel can’t trust James, Scheana screams at Katie for... probably being Katie, Ariana laughs at the idea that she could even like Stassi, and Tom and Baloney fight about Ariana and her attitude.
See you tomorrow for The Bachelor, hopefully? Yes. It’ll happen.
Random Thoughts from the Desk of Amanda:
That choker of Brittany’s is really, really bad where she’s wearing the teal dress. It looks like a fancy dog collar.
This whole James thing reminds me of Miami Girl all over again.
Did Jax correct his own grammar during his fight with Brittany?
Raquel really does sound like a goat.
Everyone’s face during James’s performance was gold. Especially Scheana, who was probably having flashbacks to her terrible performance of “Good as Gold”.
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Chekov’s Gun is essentially the idea that if you place a gun in the first act, it must go off in the third. James’ anger must be essential, or it would not have been included in the story. STARTING OFF WITH A LITERARY THEORY, IT’S GONNA BE A GOOD ONE, Y’ALL. ↩︎
I’m pretty sure on Pumped Podcast (RIP) Kristen said that she stole her credit card to get Botox. ↩︎
Jax is so old he speaks a dead language. ↩︎
There is too much agreeing with people I hate in this episode. It needs to stop. ↩︎
I’m pretty sure that’s the first time Brittany’s ever seen the words “baba ganoush”. ↩︎
It hangs in my mom’s house. ↩︎
Seriously, he’s DNF List for sure. ↩︎
What is WITH these grown ass men throwing drinks on each other? ↩︎
I guess his probation is over. ↩︎
#vanderpump rules#lisa vanderpump#I FUCKING GOT A BLOG DONE ON TIME#I AM SO PROUD OF ME#i've also been up since like 6 am#there are so many horrible moments in this episode#it felt like classic vanderpump rules#chekov's gun
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Travelling Smart: My 10 Tripping Tips
I love travelling and going on trips – whether they are just short daytrips or long-winded, extended ones. I especially love impromptu, spur-of-the-moment travelling because I need an occasional change of scenery and change of pace, either because I am bored or getting too stressed out in the office. Personally, I think travelling clears my head, making my brain feel so refreshed after. On those long bus rides with landscapes flashing by, I get to daydream, reflect on things, and plan out my daily living. Sometimes, after simply napping during 2-3 hour flights, I end up with a sharper mind. Indeed, I find that long drives and plane rides give me the best quality sleep sometimes. So yes, I travel for both my mental and physical health.
But I am also a staunch believer that there is real value in learning from actual experiences. Visiting new places teaches you many things – from local history and regional dialects, unique cultural heritage of its people, as well as interesting cuisine. And as a writer, I believe there is a story somewhere in each trip. As my creative writing professors said, in each travelogue, there is an external journey and an internal one. I always come back from each trip a changed person.
But I have a few tips for travelling smart. Let me share with you ten rules I travel by:
1. Work hard, Play hard – Whoever said you can’t mix business with pleasure especially when it comes to trips? Travelling for work is unavoidable, if not inevitable. This fact I have come to accept after decades of travelling for work as a regular Resource Speaker and attending various conferences/trainings abroad for my various advocacies. To make being away from your family for days on end a bit more endurable, try to make your official, business trips more enjoyable by taking time out from your busy schedule to just “see the sites”.
Don’t worry because it’s a practice for activity organizers/sponsors to always include in the programme a “free day”. For Filipino hosts, an expression of true hospitality is showing you around local tourist spots they are particularly proud of – from museums, ancestral homes, and heritage sites, to natural wonders or even small-town factories and workshops producing delicacies and souvenir items.
The big advantage here is that you actually save on travel costs since your office/conference sponsor already covered your transportation and accommodation expenses. I used to say I am not just a “smart” traveler, I am a typically “cheap” one. All those people who got so jealous of my trips abroad couldn’t believe that, except for my college graduation gift of a Hong Kong-Macau-Bangkok tour, each one that followed after was duly applied for or “by invitation” only. As such, my trips abroad were either organization-sponsored or awarded scholarship grants.
2. Go Off-Season – Notice how ticket prices and hotel rates always go up during holidays and summer breaks because that’s when everyone goes on vacation. Tourist “peak season” also brings crowded beaches, long queues at terminals, and heavy traffic. So travel every chance you get, take advantage of long weekends, and especially during off-season. Set aside your accumulated leaves and rest days and go when the crowds are gone.
The best part of this strategy is that you get the best deals with plane tickets and hotel accommodations. There are big discounts and upgrades to be had for plane fare and even on lodgings. You can also enjoy hotel facilities all to yourself on these dates.
3. Stick to the Basics – Decide on what’s your bare minimum on accommodation requirements because you can get reasonable lodgings for less cost. Mine simply include airconditioning, a comfortable bed, and cable TV. Hot showers and wifi access are actually negotiable for me depending on the purpose of my trip. If I am going to be out site-seeing or shopping the whole day, when I get back, all I need is a shower and a place to sleep. These basic amenities make for cheaper accommodations, and they are usually not very spacious rooms. But who needs the space if you’re just going to spend a maximum of 6-8 hours a day there for sleeping, quick showers and changing clothes. So instead of 3-4 star hotels or exclusive resorts, try bed and breakfasts, pensionne inns, or even motels.
When I am abroad, like Bangkok, Thailand or Singapore, I even don’t mind staying at Red Light District hotels. They are so much cheaper, are accessible by numerous forms of transport, and are surrounded by all-day restaurants and 24/7 groceries. Apparently, having people walking around at all hours of the day sometimes makes for a much safer environment.
But when push-comes-to-shove and you find yourself in an area without any commercial lodging or restaurant facilities around, always settle for the most important things like a safe place to sleep and decent bathroom plumbing. Clean toilets with sufficient water are non-negotiables for me.
Some exciting destinations only have “home stays”, or actual residences of locals which offer travelers basic lodgings and meals in exchange for a small fee. This living arrangement makes for a perfect opportunity for some genuine interaction with the locals and a truly unique “immersion” experience when it comes to food.
4. Make a beeline, Follow the Leader – Speaking of eating and interacting with local folk, pay attention to where the locals go to eat. Those long queues prove that is where the best tasting food is to be found. And this is a strategy that works especially when you can’t speak the local dialect and not many locals understand English.
On our first night in Beijing, my fellow conference participants and I went to an upper-class Chinese restaurant hoping they’d have English-translated menus. Unfortunately, they didn’t, and none of the waiters and waitresses spoke English. Since the cooked sauce-covered dishes are virtually unrecognizable as either beef, pork, chicken, or fish-based viands, we were reduced to playing charades and resorting to modified “sign language”. One of us was vegetarian and made a slithering motion with his hands, meaning “fish”. We quickly reminded him to be careful because what he was gesturing seemed a lot like “snake” and they do serve snake dishes in China.
The next day, we went straight for the “street food” being enjoyed by the hotel staff outside during their breaks. We saw scrambled egg-based, crepe-looking patties cooked in front of you from just a food cart. This was followed by a beeline we made to a street-corner food shop selling assorted “finger-foods” like grilled meatballs, sausage/cold cuts, and crispy mushrooms, They were quite tasty, but virtually unrecognizable from the rumored cardboard box or human fetuses being circulated in media as Chinese food staples.
But not all epicurean experiences are horror stories; some can be really novel and interesting. In Camiguin island while visiting the famed white sandbar, I got to eat fresh sea urchin for breakfast. Freshly caught and costing only about P15 each, the fisherman chops off the spines before breaking it open to scrape the precious meat inside. In Palawan, every visitor has to sample at least one crocodile meat-based viand. I tried the adobo and sisig versions and discovered that while the meat was fibrous like chicken, there was a fishy after-taste.
Try to stay away from the popular fast food restaurants you see at home; you can eat that kind of food anytime when you get back. In a new place, always try their local fare and get a taste of their favorite cuisine especially those dishes they are quite known for. It is an experience that is not to be missed because eating local cuisine completes the travel experience for you. It already shows you the unique character of the place – a signature type of cooking for an endemic fruit or vegetable, and even some foreign influences which result in a fusion of sorts.
So, unless the place is known to have incredibly unhygienic food preparations, try to be more adventurous and tickle your palate with unfamiliar tastes.
However, I always resort to bottled water though wherever I go, just to be on the “safe” side. And if that’s not available, I make sure a bottle of Coke is on-hand. Coke serves a “preventive” purpose against food allergies, contamination or infection, as well as an emergency remedy and corrective measure when I do get unlucky and get a sudden case of stomach flu.
5. Avoid Tour packages - While it is quite tempting to take advantage of tour packages promising big discounts and tour guides, be warned that this is usually attended by a hectic schedule of traveltime and frenetic site-seeing. You end up rushing from place to place without any time to enjoy the sites and take as many photos as you want. Do-It-Yourself (DIY) trips are far better sometimes because you can design and follow your own itinerary.
If the place is notorious for safety and security issues, better to have a local tour guide with you. Note that a local tour guide is also a necessity when you can’t speak the language or dialect of the place. Otherwise, DIY tours is the way to go, since they are so much more fun.
6. Try Local Transport – Besides the local cuisine, another “must-see” and “to-do” on your list should be the locality’s popular mode of transport. While getting to the place usually entails plane, boat, or bus rides, once you arrive, you need to familiarize yourself with local transport to be able to get around. Abroad, you have no choice but to learn the train, bus, and cable car routes. Here in the Philippines, our unique brand of hospitality plus explicit directives from respective local government units compels local drivers to be friendly and helpful. Local drivers not only provide you a vehicle, they can also double as tour guides especially if they are proud natives of the locality.
During my visit to the Camotes islands a few years back, I literally got to travel by air, sea, and land. I got to ride a plane from Manila to Cebu, an ordinary wooden passenger boat instead of a hydrofoil ferry from Cebu City to Camotes, a habal-habal (shotgun on a motorcycle) across the main island of Poro, and finally, a small motorized banca to the farthest Camotes island – Pilar. Going back, I took the other route via Ormoc, since Pilar island is closer to Leyte already instead of Cebu. As such, I got to experience for myself how people actually get to-and-from Camotes island.
In Puerto Princesa, Tuguegarao and Naga cities, I tried their tricycles to go site-seeing. It was in these locations that I noticed that each place has a trademark design for their tricycles, another unique feature of each place. Fronts of Puerto Princesa sidecars are elaborately decorated to look like cars, complete with insignias, while trikes in Tuguegarao are higher and significantly more spacious than those found in Manila.
Up North, kalesas (horse-drawn carriages) are still quite popular as a mode of transport, but they also quite differ. Vigan’s kalesas are quite high, with large metal wheels like karuwahes, and a bit classy with its strong Spanish influences. Meanwhile, Tuguegarao’s wooden kalesas are much smaller and simpler, with wheels still made of hard wood.
7. Learn Myths, Legends and Folk Tales – While interacting with locals is a key to getting to know the place, realize that tourist spots and popular cuisine are not the only topic you can discuss. Ask about their local myths and legends; these are usually attached to their local mountain range, or the river or lake running across their locality, or simply how the place got its name.
Visiting Ilocandia during my childhood, my parents used to regale us with stories of the giant, Ang-galo and his giantess-wife. They say up the mountains in Sta. Maria where a popular waterfall is found, a big hole in the shape of a human foot is said to be Ang-galo’s footprint. Meanwhile, along the Ilocos coast near Narvacan, there is a place called Suso Beach, because the mountains form the shape of a sleeping giantess with her breasts pointing up to the skies. Years later, while visiting the volcanic island of Camiguin, an oldtimer relayed to us stories of his ancestors. Fisherfolk used to all go back to the mainland of Cagayan de Oro and Misamis Oriental when darkness falls. While those few who remain on the island shut their windows and doors completely because small, red men with horns and tails are said to climb out of the volcanoes at night.
8. When in Rome, do as the Romans do – The traditional protocol for travelers – always remember that you are merely a visitor and the locals own the place, so you must respect their way of life there. Be conscious of their practices and be careful not to offend their sensibilities.
For example, Filipinos love to whistle and make “sitsit” to call one’s attention. Such catcalling is impolite in some cultures. We also love to make hand gestures like making a rectangle with our fingers to ask for the bill after eating, but some places prefer to spell it out for them and ask, “check please”. Even sitting down has certain nuances - in some Asian cultures, it is rude to sit cross-legged, or to do the de-kwarto and point your foot towards them. There are also eating customs such as the Chinese belief that it is not right to turn a fish once one side is consumed. This comes from their belief that it is unlucky for one who will be crossing a bridge home, so someone who isn’t travelling across water is the only one who can turn the fish. Meanwhile, some Westerners are “touchy-feely”, they can get all kissy-kissy (both cheeks even), and just love to hug. But Asians like their personal space and will simply nod, bow or smile. For most Asians, someone touching the top of our heads is a big No-No. When addressing someone older, we have generic terms to show respect even if we don’t know them personally. These are small, simple things but which one must pay attention to.
9. Find Best-Buys – The proof of our travels is usually based on our souvenirs – whether they are Tshirts, ref magnets, or key chains. For Filipinos, we have a tradition of bringing goods from home to our Filipino Hosts abroad as a way of thanking them for their hospitality especially if we’re crashing at their place. On the way home, we must also bring something back, so our pasalubong-shopping is a serious matter.
So, don’t fall for tourist traps and their over-priced souvenirs. Find out what the best-buys are and source them out with help from the locals. I have discovered that the wet markets and SM supermarkets have the cheaper food stuffs – from standard dried fish, fruits, breads and biscuits, you can get a better price at these stores.
In Cebu, find out where Taboan is. In Ilocos, check out Vigan market. In Davao, try Aldevinco for those gorgeous batik cloths and ornamental accessories, or go to Magsaysay for the freshest durian, mangosteen, and pomelo.
10. Get that Body Ready – Most trips can be physically taxing from the number of hours of travel time, to change of vehicles, or connecting flights. So you must psychologically and physically prepare yourself. If you know that there will be a lot of trekking, hiking, and climbing to be done on your trip, better get in shape long before your trip. It may be a good idea to start hitting the gym again and stretch out those muscles lest you strain yourself during your travel. Remember, there is always a bit of physical effort to be exerted – from merely lugging your own excess baggage to those long souvenir-shopping and site-seeing walks.
So there it is – now go off and see the world.
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20+ Funny Photos That Prove Men Never Grow Up
During A 12 Hour Flight Delay My Boyfriend Wandered Off. When I Found Him He Was In The Middle Of A Pixar Movie Marathon With A Group Of 5-Year-Olds. He’s The One For Me
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He Gets A Little Bored On Fridays
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There Was A Storm During The Eclipse So He Improvised
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Today My Boyfriend Bought A Label Maker
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He Got His Head Stuck In The Porch Yesterday Whilst Trying To Feed A Dead Bee To A Spider That Lives In The Bushes
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My Dad Thought He Was Home Alone. I Had To See Why He Was Laughing So Hard
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Look At All These Kids
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Trying To Impress My Wife With New Overpriced Smart Bulbs, Forgot Our Security Cam Was Recording
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My Wife Bought New Couch Pillows You Can Draw On. Immature Me Couldn’t Resist
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My Boyfriend Ordered 500 Googly Eyes “For Reasons” And This Is One Of The First Things He Did
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Caught My Husband Red-Handed. Thought He Was Working Out
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We’re Adults And We Get To Decide What That Means: The Home Depot Edition
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My Father-In-Law Is A Contractor. This Is Him Installing A Mirror
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My Wife Called Me Immature For Taking This Picture. Anyone Else Immature?
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My Husband Is No Longer Allowed To Go To The Craft Store Alone
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Farting Boyfriend Causes Neighbors To Call Police
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My 90-Year-Old Grandfather At His Battlestation. He Was The Person Who Introduced Me To Several Tech Things, Such As A PC, An iPad, And A Tesla
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My Friend’s Dad Is In Boston Sightseeing Today
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My Buddy Wins Father’s Day Today. – “I Woke Up Today With A Missed Call From My Mom And About 15 Tags To Beat The Cheerio Stack Record. 10 Hours Later It Has Been Broken”
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He Really Wanted To Swim With His Turtle
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Heard My Husband Telling The Dog To Stay Still In The Kitchen, Walked In And This Greeted Me
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3 Years Ago He Unknowingly Bought A 2 Person Child’s Tent Thinking It Was Adult Sized. And He Still Took It To The Festival
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This Is How My Boyfriend And His Cat Catch Bugs Together
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What To Expect If You Marry A Man-Child
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My Boyfriend Is A Seller On Amazon. This Is What I Came Home To
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I Get A Call The Other Day, Says He Got In Trouble At The Barn For Cutting A Horse’s Hair And Everyone’s Pissed Off. I Felt Bad For Him Until I Got This Picture
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Printed And Attached To Wife’s Spraying Air Freshener While She Wasn’t Home. Spits Acid Every 30 Minutes
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When Your Husband Cleans The Kitchen And Rearranges The Fridge Magnets
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I Just Walked Into My Husband’s Office To Find Him Like This
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So I Took My Adult Friends To The Kids Zoo
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So My Boyfriend Had To Pull Over To Take A Pic Of This
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Heard My Boyfriend Giggling To Himself In The Bathroom
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When You Leave Your Husband Alone With The Garden Decor
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Had Sparklers At My Wedding Reception Last Night. I Think They Won Over My Father-In-Law
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Saw This Man Sneakily Blowing Bubbles In The Train Station. When I Made Eye Contact With Him And Smiled, He Came Up To Me And Whispered, “No One Suspects The Adult”
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My Boyfriend’s New Favorite Game – Machine Gun Kitten
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My Husband’s Late Night Contribution To The Questionable Label On My Wine
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Arcade Machine To Keep The Boyfriend Occupied
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My Friend And I Were House-Sitting And The Owners Asked Us If We Were Doing Anything Fun. Queue The Man-Child Photo Shoot
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What Happens When I Send My Husband To The Store And There’s An Ice Cream Sale
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My Wife Doesn’t Get Why I Giggle Every Time I Walk Into Her Elementary Class
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We Did Our Duty. Let No Man, Woman, Or Child Suggest Otherwise
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Sister Texted Me Saying She Lost Her Husband At Babies R Us. 20 Minutes Later, She Found Him
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I Just Caught My Boyfriend In The Act. He Doesn’t Know That I Know His Secret
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My Boyfriend Found The Perfect Use For His Shirt Pocket
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Some People Never Grow Up
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I Let My Boyfriend Choose A Shower Curtain And Now We Have This
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My Dad Was Gonna Go For A Run. He Laid Down To Stretch His Back. Found Him Asleep 30 Minutes Later
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While On My Computer My Boyfriend Walked Up Behind Me And Started Rubbing My Back. I Thought He Was Being Sweet, Then He Sent This Picture To My Phone
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Boyfriend Knocked Over His Orange Juice, Waitress Brought Him This
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I Got Married Last Week, My Wife Wanted Me To Only Take Serious Pictures With My Groomsmen
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My Boyfriend Just Started Using Timeline And Discovered You Could Post Life Events
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So I Went To The Bathroom And Found This. Apparently My Husband Is 12 Years Old
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Don’t Leave Your Husbands Alone In Target, Ladies
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When You Ask Your Husband To Pack Your Lunch
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I Could Never Game Because Of My Toddler Son So I Finally Bought A Play Pen
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When You Ask Your Boyfriend To Take Your Photo
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“Fixed” The Kitchen Canister Labels Last Week. Wife Hasn’t Noticed, Yet
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My Husband Went Grocery Shopping And Now I Have A Fruit Basket Full Of Cupcakes
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Came Home To This. We Don’t Have Children, My Husband Is 28
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My 32-Year-Old Husband Playing In His New Pool. We Don’t Have Kids By The Way
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My Boyfriend Studying For Finals
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I’m A Bad Father, I Convinced My Kids This Is An Eyeball Remover
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When I Was 12, I Was Attacked By A Howler Monkey In Costa Rica. My Dad Runs A Tour And Travel Company Down There, And I Found This Postcard On His Rack
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When I Ask My Husband To Cut Vents In The Turkey Pot Pie
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Just When I Think My Boyfriend Is A Grown Up
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“Phoneception” – Whenever I Upgrade My Phone I Snap A Pic Of The Old Phone With This Photo As The Background. I Find It Pretty Amusing But My Wife Hates It
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I Should Have Known Better When My Boyfriend Offered To Make My Bed
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I Left My Husband Alone With The Baby For One Hour And Came Back To This
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“Peach” Lip Balm. My Girlfriend Says I’m Immature. I Am
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from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2DaM3qs
via Viral News HQ
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kinda rare-ish
1: What do you put on hotdogs? Cheese, ketchup, mustard, dill relish (because sweet relish is gross).
2: Do you say “anticlimatic” or “anticlimactic”? Anticlimactic.
3: Do you check flyers before grocery shopping? Uh no. I used to read them for fun or to help my mom shop but I have no use for them because I get the same shit every time. Lunchables, pizza rolls, bread and eggs, and a shit ton of beverages.
4: Blue, black, or some other colour pen ink? Black.
5: Do you use your parking brake? I don’t even know how.
6: Look to your left. How many framed pictures are on the wall? There’s none on the wall because I’ve lived here for two years and still haven’t unpacked all my decorations but there is one on the end table. It’s my sister’s junior year school picture.
7: Do you know how to play chess? Yeah but I suck at it.
8: How often do you clean the interior of your car? Every three weeks so my husband can’t tell I’ve been smoking in it. Since it’s new he doesn’t want me to but I have no self control.
9: Do you ever read the last few pages first? Of books, no. But I do look up plot summaries of shows and movies on wikipedia to see if they’re even worth watching all the way through.
10: Ever fallen in the shower? Not in a very long time but yes.
11: On a scale of 1-10, how likely are you to swear at other drivers? 136.
12: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about? I mean probably the single worst thing you can call anybody is a cunt but if it’s true it’s true.
13: Do you have a Snuggie? I DO! Penn State mothafuckaaaaa
14: Are you allergic to anything? Okay this one lights my hate fire. I am allergic to exactly ONE thing. That I’m aware of. Otezla. And it’s the only psoriasis medication in pill form so I wanted it to work so badly.
15: Do you have any TV shows on DVD? Supernatural seasons 1-3, all four seasons of Instant Star, the entire Gilmore Girls boxed set, seasons 1 and 2 of the Golden Girls, seasons 1 and 2 of Jersey Shore, season 1 of The Hills, season 5 of Shameless, season 1 of GoT, and Degrassi seasons 1-12.
16: How many times do you hit the snooze button before finally getting out of bed? I always set four alarms, each five minutes apart, and hope to Lucifer that one of them will wake me up.
17: Ever driven away in anger? I’m gonna say no because I’m already afraid of driving so I wouldn’t want to put myself in danger by throwing a temper tantrum behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.
18: What’s your favourite freezie colour? Red.
19: Are you a vegetarian? I BARELY eat vegetables. Usually it’s corn. Which doesn’t even have nutritional value.
20: Do you have a garbage receptacle beside you? What’s on top? I don’t have a designated receptacle in this room but my husband seems to have adopted the end table as such, and there is a massive stack of receipts on it.
21: Do you cross out your mistakes or erase/whiteout them? Cross them out or start a new page entirely. Because I only write in pen and I want my paper to look pretty.
22: Ever torn something up that you instantly knew was too important for such treatment? On the last day of 9th grade I got home and destroyed all of my pictures and art projects from that year. And I kick myself for it every. single. day. because one of them was a sketch of the Titanic that I did and it was freaking amazing, best thing I’ve ever drawn in my life, and I wish I still had it.
23: Do you think that things will get better? Probably.
24: Do you have an unpopular opinion? What is it? I have many.
25: What’s your favourite quote? “Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year.”
26: Did you/are you going to go to prom? Prom was ten years ago. And no I didn’t go.
27: What’s the most physically painful thing you’ve ever experienced? Gallstones and the subsequent recovery after having them removed.
28: What’s the most emotionally/mentally painful thing you’ve ever experienced? Adolescence.
29: Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life? Not that I know of.
30: What’s your favourite book genre? Young Adult don’t judge me.
31: Did you like “Gigli”? Be honest. I’ve never seen it because I don’t care for Ben Affleck and REALLY don’t like Jennifer Lopez.
32: Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre? No. I barely ever go to the theater.
33: Do you peek between your fingers during the scary scenes? Scary scenes are the best. I don’t cover my eyes. Unless it’s something super gross like bugs, snakes, or someone getting their teeth pulled out.
34: What was your reaction to Tatum getting killed whilst stuck in the pet door in Scream? Hilarious.
35: Do dogs like you? Yeah but I don’t like them so I have no idea why.
36: Would you say that you project an air of authority? I’m bossy but nobody listens to me.
37: Do people listen when you speak? Haha well. Already answered that.
38: How are your elbows? Are they okay? They’re fine?
39: What is one thing that you do exceptionally well? Be honest. Make people laugh and memorize stuff.
40: Do you use torrents? I haven’t illegally downloaded anything since I started paying for my own internet service six years ago.
41: When was the last time you paid for music? Like three months ago when I bought Yellowcard’s last album. I always pay for my music.
42: Are you addicted to technology? A little bit.
43: Pick a person (you don’t need to give their name). How do you feel about them? Be as honest as you can get yourself to be. I don’t think this person will be in my life forever because they don’t really care about me at all and I’m getting sick of carrying every single interaction we have. Or just talking to myself.
44: Do you check your computer’s dictionary for the definition of words you’d otherwise feel confident about using during in-person interactions? Just to be sure? I have a really good vocabulary on my own.
45: How heavily do you rely on spellcheck and autocorrect? Hardly at all.
46: Have you ever gotten into an argument on the internet? Did you win? It’s pointless to fight the trolls.
47: Do you pause movies/TV shows if you have to go to the bathroom or the kitchen, or do you just let them keep playing? Pause if I’m seeing them for the first time, let them play if it’s like Supernatural because I’ve seen them all a hundred times.
48: If you use a regular alarm clock, do you have it set to music or that obnoxious beeping? I mean this applies to phone alarms too. But yeah I need the beeping. Music won’t wake me.
49: Peter Pan? No. Just no.
50: How often do you fall up the stairs? Used to all the time. Now because of my knee and hip I have to go up on my hands and feet so it’s pretty hard to screw that up.
51: Do you pronounce “anti” as ant-eye or ant-ee? (Example: “That scene was very anticlimactic.”) Ant-eye.
52: Do you pronounce “via” as vee-uh or vie-uh? (Example: “We can get there via Tremont Street.”) Vee-uh.
53: How often do you forget to close your parentheses? I don’t.
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20+ Funny Photos That Prove Men Never Grow Up
During A 12 Hour Flight Delay My Boyfriend Wandered Off. When I Found Him He Was In The Middle Of A Pixar Movie Marathon With A Group Of 5-Year-Olds. He’s The One For Me
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He Gets A Little Bored On Fridays
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There Was A Storm During The Eclipse So He Improvised
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Today My Boyfriend Bought A Label Maker
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He Got His Head Stuck In The Porch Yesterday Whilst Trying To Feed A Dead Bee To A Spider That Lives In The Bushes
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My Dad Thought He Was Home Alone. I Had To See Why He Was Laughing So Hard
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Look At All These Kids
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Trying To Impress My Wife With New Overpriced Smart Bulbs, Forgot Our Security Cam Was Recording
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My Wife Bought New Couch Pillows You Can Draw On. Immature Me Couldn’t Resist
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My Boyfriend Ordered 500 Googly Eyes “For Reasons” And This Is One Of The First Things He Did
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Caught My Husband Red-Handed. Thought He Was Working Out
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We’re Adults And We Get To Decide What That Means: The Home Depot Edition
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My Father-In-Law Is A Contractor. This Is Him Installing A Mirror
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My Wife Called Me Immature For Taking This Picture. Anyone Else Immature?
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My Husband Is No Longer Allowed To Go To The Craft Store Alone
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Farting Boyfriend Causes Neighbors To Call Police
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My 90-Year-Old Grandfather At His Battlestation. He Was The Person Who Introduced Me To Several Tech Things, Such As A PC, An iPad, And A Tesla
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My Friend’s Dad Is In Boston Sightseeing Today
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My Buddy Wins Father’s Day Today. – “I Woke Up Today With A Missed Call From My Mom And About 15 Tags To Beat The Cheerio Stack Record. 10 Hours Later It Has Been Broken”
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He Really Wanted To Swim With His Turtle
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Heard My Husband Telling The Dog To Stay Still In The Kitchen, Walked In And This Greeted Me
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3 Years Ago He Unknowingly Bought A 2 Person Child’s Tent Thinking It Was Adult Sized. And He Still Took It To The Festival
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This Is How My Boyfriend And His Cat Catch Bugs Together
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What To Expect If You Marry A Man-Child
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My Boyfriend Is A Seller On Amazon. This Is What I Came Home To
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I Get A Call The Other Day, Says He Got In Trouble At The Barn For Cutting A Horse’s Hair And Everyone’s Pissed Off. I Felt Bad For Him Until I Got This Picture
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Printed And Attached To Wife’s Spraying Air Freshener While She Wasn’t Home. Spits Acid Every 30 Minutes
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When Your Husband Cleans The Kitchen And Rearranges The Fridge Magnets
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I Just Walked Into My Husband’s Office To Find Him Like This
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So I Took My Adult Friends To The Kids Zoo
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So My Boyfriend Had To Pull Over To Take A Pic Of This
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Heard My Boyfriend Giggling To Himself In The Bathroom
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When You Leave Your Husband Alone With The Garden Decor
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Had Sparklers At My Wedding Reception Last Night. I Think They Won Over My Father-In-Law
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Saw This Man Sneakily Blowing Bubbles In The Train Station. When I Made Eye Contact With Him And Smiled, He Came Up To Me And Whispered, “No One Suspects The Adult”
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My Boyfriend’s New Favorite Game – Machine Gun Kitten
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My Husband’s Late Night Contribution To The Questionable Label On My Wine
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Arcade Machine To Keep The Boyfriend Occupied
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My Friend And I Were House-Sitting And The Owners Asked Us If We Were Doing Anything Fun. Queue The Man-Child Photo Shoot
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What Happens When I Send My Husband To The Store And There’s An Ice Cream Sale
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My Wife Doesn’t Get Why I Giggle Every Time I Walk Into Her Elementary Class
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We Did Our Duty. Let No Man, Woman, Or Child Suggest Otherwise
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Sister Texted Me Saying She Lost Her Husband At Babies R Us. 20 Minutes Later, She Found Him
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I Just Caught My Boyfriend In The Act. He Doesn’t Know That I Know His Secret
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My Boyfriend Found The Perfect Use For His Shirt Pocket
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Some People Never Grow Up
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I Let My Boyfriend Choose A Shower Curtain And Now We Have This
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My Dad Was Gonna Go For A Run. He Laid Down To Stretch His Back. Found Him Asleep 30 Minutes Later
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While On My Computer My Boyfriend Walked Up Behind Me And Started Rubbing My Back. I Thought He Was Being Sweet, Then He Sent This Picture To My Phone
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Boyfriend Knocked Over His Orange Juice, Waitress Brought Him This
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I Got Married Last Week, My Wife Wanted Me To Only Take Serious Pictures With My Groomsmen
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My Boyfriend Just Started Using Timeline And Discovered You Could Post Life Events
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So I Went To The Bathroom And Found This. Apparently My Husband Is 12 Years Old
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Don’t Leave Your Husbands Alone In Target, Ladies
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When You Ask Your Husband To Pack Your Lunch
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I Could Never Game Because Of My Toddler Son So I Finally Bought A Play Pen
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When You Ask Your Boyfriend To Take Your Photo
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“Fixed” The Kitchen Canister Labels Last Week. Wife Hasn’t Noticed, Yet
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My Husband Went Grocery Shopping And Now I Have A Fruit Basket Full Of Cupcakes
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Came Home To This. We Don’t Have Children, My Husband Is 28
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My 32-Year-Old Husband Playing In His New Pool. We Don’t Have Kids By The Way
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My Boyfriend Studying For Finals
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I’m A Bad Father, I Convinced My Kids This Is An Eyeball Remover
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When I Was 12, I Was Attacked By A Howler Monkey In Costa Rica. My Dad Runs A Tour And Travel Company Down There, And I Found This Postcard On His Rack
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When I Ask My Husband To Cut Vents In The Turkey Pot Pie
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Just When I Think My Boyfriend Is A Grown Up
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“Phoneception” – Whenever I Upgrade My Phone I Snap A Pic Of The Old Phone With This Photo As The Background. I Find It Pretty Amusing But My Wife Hates It
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I Should Have Known Better When My Boyfriend Offered To Make My Bed
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I Left My Husband Alone With The Baby For One Hour And Came Back To This
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“Peach” Lip Balm. My Girlfriend Says I’m Immature. I Am
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from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2DaM3qs
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