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sunsetcurbed · 4 years

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you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 5,369 Rating: T Chapter Warnings: none read on AO3

Chapter Summary: "What the fuck?" Luke murmurs across the table from Alex, just loud enough to grab Alex's attention from worksheet. "What the fuck?" he says again—much, much louder. His head snaps up and his eyes, burning, land on Alex.

Alex flinches back. "Dude, what?"

(*)

Their movie night starts off as normal with the group in the kitchen making their snacks. Alex has no reason to suspect that anything will go differently than his past experiences. So when things do... change, he's thrown off.

In Julie's living room, there's a couch, a love seat, and a recliner. Luke and Julie always share the love seat and Flynn claims the recliner. That leaves Alex, Willie, and Reggie to figure out who gets the two armrest seats of the couch and whether the other wants to take the middle cushion or just lounge on the floor. They… don't have that issue today.

Reggie is the first one inside from band practice so he is the first one done making his popcorn so he gets first claim. When Alex and Willie make it out, Willie gestures for Alex to take the other, and quirks an eyebrow at him. "I'll figure something out," he says. Alex eyes him warily but takes the seat anyways, grateful for a place to set his water down. Willie stands there for a moment, staring between Alex and the middle cushion. He sets his popcorn next to Alex's feet, then sits on the middle cushion with his back facing Alex, and reclines himself back so he's lying across Alex's lap. He grins up at him. "Told you I'd figure it out."

Alex quite literally has no idea what to do or say. What comes out is: "I'm going to drop so much popcorn on you."

"Cool. More for me."

He's thankful for his friends, because over the next hour, every single one of them sends him a look when Willie's attention is elsewhere, which lets him know that he's not just being dramatic. This… this is new and this is—

Alex doesn't want to call it weird.

He's actually quite enjoying it, once the initial awkwardness has faded away. He likes the weight of Willie in his lap. It's grounding. And Alex has an arm across Willie's abdomen, and Willie is absentmindedly playing with Alex's hand that's resting on Willie's side, and Alex likes the feel of Willie's fingers on his. Still, it's all overwhelming, but Alex finally has his proof that he needed to refute Willie: he's wide awake and doesn't fall asleep at all through the second movie, which Willie teases him about from his lap.

He spends the rest of movie night trying not to wonder what this could possibly mean because he knows the most likely answer is that it doesn't mean anything.

Days blur together for Alex after that—he doesn't have an off day (he doesn't have an off hour). Honestly, he likes that. He likes the constant going, the constant moving, the constant action in his brain. It keeps him from lingering on one thing for too long, from letting one thing manifest and grow into something beyond itself and gnaw away at Alex until he's a shell of himself.

He has his prince lessons, therapy twice a week—which his grandmother had offered to bring to the consulate after he had a panic attack in front of her on Sunday—, school, band practice, his new Friday "date" with Willie after prince lessons, and then on Saturday the 13th, Julie and the Phantoms play Camelot, a wildly popular nightclub that they'd worked their entire high school career to book. They're excited about it, and Alex is even more excited about it because his grandmother has actually booked the VIP suite, which, as Alex had expected, hadn't been reserved. She invites Alex's parents to come as well, so they hire a baby sitter for Ava and Austin and make a night of it, and Alex plays his heart out (not that he usually doesn't, but this feels special). The next day, at his shortened Sunday prince lesson, he catches his grandmother humming along to Finally Free a few times, though he doesn't point it out. He doesn't need to bring attention to it. Just… knowing is enough.

Somehow it's already Monday the 15th, two weeks into his prince lessons. He is getting more used to the routine now. He still does his homework at lunch, but he doesn't focus quite as hard, as he has learned that he has enough time left at the end of each day to do it. Still, sometimes it is nice to watch Netflix instead of doing homework. That's his hope for tonight as he sits at their lunch table, bent over his math homework. Reggie and Flynn are lost in conversation and Willie is talking about some skating competition with Greg and Shawn, while Julie and Luke are on his phone.

"What the fuck?" Luke murmurs across the table from Alex, just loud enough to grab Alex's attention from worksheet. "What the fuck?" he says again—much, much louder. His head snaps up and his eyes, burning, land on Alex.

Alex flinches back. "Dude, what?"

Julie is leaning into Luke's space, reading whatever is on his phone that's made Luke so upset. The rest of the table is silent, even Greg and Shawn. Alex is just… waiting, at this point, really, but Luke seems too angry for words. Alex can see him literally shaking. So instead he turns to Julie to gauge what to expect from Luke based off of her reaction. The way her eyebrows are halfway up her forehead and her lips are parted, he guesses it is something big. And then her eyes flick to him. "Alex," she starts, but Luke cuts her off.

"So, what," Luke hisses leaning over the table, dropping his phone like he's completely forgotten it. "You were going to drag us along for as long as you could and then drop us at the last minute to go live in some castle in a country you didn't even know the name of a month ago?"

"Luke," Julie whispers, grabbing at his chest to pull him back.

"Thought maybe you'd get one last hurrah, but oh, no, don't even bother to mention it to us," he spits, spinning in his seat fluidly, standing up, and storming out of the cafeteria. Julie sends Alex and apologetic look and then chases after Luke. Flynn sighs and gets up from the table, chasing after her best friend.

Reggie is staring, wide eyed, shell shocked. "Uh… what?"

"I… don't know," he says even though he has a guess. But he's not sure how Luke would know or how his phone would factor in. Alex reaches for the phone that Luke had left abandoned and freezes. One of his instagram pictures is on the screen, but it's not on instagram, it's on a news site. Beneath it, there are several blocks of text.

Prince Alexander of Beasiga, 16, is a student at performing arts high school Los Feliz High School in the Los Feliz District of Los Angeles, California. The prince is in a popular pop-rock bank with three other members (Julie Molina, Luke Patterson, Reggie Peters). The band is called Julie and the Phantoms and they were last seen playing at the popular nightclub Camelot, November 13 th where sources confirmed his identity. The prince is the band's drummer and a back up vocalist.

Alexander has been on the honor roll at his high school multiple times throughout his schooling career and is in the highly renowned music program at Los Feliz High School. He is close with a small group of friends who mostly keep to themselves. According to all sources the prince is currently unattached romantically and has never been linked to anyone, not even close friend Julie Molina.

Sources say that Prince Alexander will be presented at Beasiga's annual Independence Day Ball on December 21 st , accepting his role as future ruler of the small but mighty country.

Alex drops the phone to the table after that, completely uninterested in anything else that it has to say. He doesn't need to read a news article to know about his life. He is living it. Except he certainly isn't planning on accepting his role as future ruler of Beasiga on December 21st.

On either side of him, Willie and Reggie lean in to look at the phone. Willie's hand immediately comes up to his shoulder and squeezes while on his other side, Reggie snorts.

"Dude, what?" he laughs. "Is this news article calling you a prince?"

Alex looks at Reggie. He feels his knee start bouncing under the table, and Willie must too, because his hand goes from Alex's shoulder to Alex's knee. "Uh… yeah. It is." he says. He takes in a deep breath when Reggie laughs harder and lets it out. "Reg. It's right. I—I am."

"Oh, sure," Reggie laughs, elbowing Alex in the side. When he looks over to Alex and sees his face though, Reggie pauses. Slowly, the longer he looks at Alex, the more the smile on his face fades. After a minute it's nearly gone. "Dude, seriously?"

Alex swallows. "Yeah, Reg." He reaches for the phone and holds it up shaking his head. "But—but this isn't—I didn't—I've made no decision. Well, yeah, I have—I'm not gonna, I'm not gonna be a prince. Two weeks ago I almost passed out during my public speaking midterm. Do you really think I'm planning to throw away the band to be a public figure for the rest of my life? Do you think that'd go well for any of us?"

"Of course not," Reggie says, seemingly offended that Alex thinks Reggie could share Luke's thoughts. "You love our band. I know that. Besides, even if you were going to move and become prince, we'd find a way to make it work."

Alex stares at Reggie for a long moment, and then feels a small smile form. "Thanks, Reg."

Reggie shakes his head. "That's not something you thank me for, man. That's just how we work. We're a band. That doesn't stop just because you're royalty now."

"You're taking this surprisingly well," Willie says from Alex's other side. "I knew Luke was gonna freak—didn't realize how much—, I said Julie's gonna try and find a way to fix it in her own way—probably offer to talk with his grandma—, and I guessed Flynn was gonna reference Prince Charming, William, and Harry all within twenty-four hours of finding out, so there's still... twenty four hours left for that. But I really wasn't sure for you. And yet I'm still surprised. Huh."

"I don't really know how you're supposed to react when you find out your best friend is a prince, to be fair," Reggie points out. Alex and Willie both laugh. Reggie narrows his eyes. "Wait. You knew?"

Willie grins. "Oh, yeah. From day one."

"We've been best friends since kindergarten, Alexander!" Reggie gasps, dramatic and exaggerated, in a way that lets Alex know he's not really upset.

"Yeah, well," Willie leans into Alex's space and rests his chin on Alex's shoulder. "What we have is stronger."

Alex feels his heart pick up into overdrive and his face heat up, all while Reggie raises his hands in surrender. "Whoa, okay, I know where I'm not wanted."

"Who said we didn't want you?" Willie asks in a deep voice.

"Okay!" Alex yelps, shifting so Willie's chin falls off of Alex's shoulder. Willie starts giggling, and Reggie falls into laughter, and Alex just feels like he's about to combust. He stares at the table while the two of them get this out of their systems, which leads to staring at Luke's phone, which leads to thinking about the article, which leads to—"Oh, my god."

"What?" Willie and Reggie ask at the same time, both still laughing.

"The news published a story about me."

"Uh, yeah, we were just reading it," Reggie laughs a little more, but Alex notices Willie go silent next to him.

"Yeah, I know, Reg," Alex says. "But—this is supposed to be a secret, at least from the public. I admit I didn't tell you guys for reasons that don't matter anymore, but—they're not supposed to know I exist yet."

"Oh," Reggie says, slipping from laughter to serious just like that. A lot can be said about Reggie not taking life in general seriously, but a lot can also be said when it comes to him taking the lives of his friend's seriously. "That's not good."

"No, it's not."

"When was it published?" Willie asks.

Alex picks up Luke's phone and unlocks it—eleven years of being his best friend having earned Alex that privilege—and looks at the publication time. "An hour and a half ago. Why?"

"Hey, Alex?"

Alex turns in his seat to find Flynn standing behind him. "Yeah?"

"Principal Lessa wants you in her office."

"What?" he frowns. "Why?"

"Your… grandma? is coming. There's a lot of news stations outside the school waiting to talk to you," Flynn explains.

Willie sighs. "That's why."

"Fuck," Alex says. He twists in his seat to get up, but Willie's hand on his arm stops him. He looks at Willie.

"Hey. See if you can get out of lessons today. I think you deserve it. If you can, text me and I'll wait for you after school, we'll go do something that will get your mind off this shit, okay?"

Alex feels so overwhelmed with relief and love and joy—with Reggie's reaction, with Willie's care, with their friendship. He nods at Willie, and then stands up and collects his things. He leaves Flynn with Reggie and Willie and makes his way to Principal Lessa's office, which is on the other side of the building. To get there, he has to pass through the front wing, and through the front doors he can see multiple news vans parked in the normal student pick up lane. He groans to himself and carries on faster to the front office.

His grandmother and John make it to Principal Lessa's office within five minutes of him, and they quickly get down to business. They discovered that it was a leak from one of the college interns at the consulate—that she was at the Julie and the Phantoms show at Camelot and was talking about Prince Alex once she recognized him on stage. Unfortunately, one of those people she had spoken to had been a journalism student with a job at a local paper that had looked into the story, which—likely to the student's surprise—had actually checked out.

Through all of this Alex is surprised that he keeps his fragile composure, even though he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. It's just… the news breaking means eyes on him. And, well. He has to admit now that Julie was right, at least partially. He might still suck at giving speeches (but also probably not because he got an A on his speech when it was one on one with only him and Mr. Kullins) but really, the truth is he can't have people looking at him because he's scared of what they'll see. He's scared he'll let them down. He's scared they'll notice everything wrong with him. Fuck, he's scared they'll be able to know what he's thinking, just by looking at him. Half the time, he wishes he didn't have to listen to his own thoughts, so even just the thought of other people knowing what he's thinking…

So, yeah. No surprise, Julie was right. She usually is, even if Alex likes to pretend that she's not at first. She knows it too, so at least he doesn't have to admit it to her.

It's been just about an hour since they all gathered when the bell rings to signal the end of what would have been Alex's public speaking class. His grandmother looks at Alex and clasps her hands together. "Well. Shall we see if police have escorted them away and get you out of here? We can get an early start on the 1800s history."

"I was actually gonna talk to you about that," Alex murmurs. "Uh—my friend wants to know—you know with. With my anxiety this has been a lot. So he suggested maybe skipping lessons today?"

Her face softens. "Oh, why Alexander, of course. I don't know why I didn't think of that. I'll call your driver and have him take you straight home."

"Oh," Alex frowns, "well, he actually—we actually thought we might. Just hang out a bit? Get my mind off of today? So he was going to drive me."

There's a long pause. "All right," she says. "As long as you don't go out anywhere too public, at least today, not without any security. Please, Alexander, for my peace of mind?"

"Oh, no, totally," he agrees. "We're probably just going to get tea and maybe get food. Sit in his car and talk about how this sucks."

His grandmother simultaneously pulls a face and laughs, and that's how he knows that he's growing on her, improper language and all. "All right then. I hope your afternoon with your friend helps," she says sincerely. She stands and turns to Principal Lessa. "Thank you greatly for allowing us to visit your school and use your office today."

Principal Lessa shakes her head. "It is not a problem. I am just sorry this happened. Please know that we will do everything we can to ensure that he is as safe as can be."

His grandmother smiles at her and then walks out of the office, followed closely by John. Alex is left sitting alone with his principal which—awkward. She gives him the choice of going back to class or hanging out in the front office for the last period of the day. Since his last class of the day is biology—which first, he enjoys and second, means he could potentially be missing something important—he opts to go back to class, but not before sending off a quick text to Willie, promising to meet him at the end of K wing after class.

Biology goes by quick and it's clear that no one in his class has seen the news yet, because not a single eye turns to him the entire class, aside from his late entrance. He can't say the same for the rest of the school, as he can feel a few eyes on him as he makes his way through the halls after class has ended. It's not the majority, not even close, but it's enough to be noticeable, enough to make Alex's skin crawl, heat creep up his throat, and spots dance in his vision. He tries his best to ignore them, but it's hard, especially when he hears his name a few times.

K wing is a reprieve. It's the least crowded wing in the entire school, and even though it leads to the student parking lot, since people who drive themselves don't have to rush, the flow of students leaving is slow and not all at once. Alex is grateful for the lack of stares, and pulls out his phone as he waits for Willie. Swiping through his phone, the typical list of suggested articles pop up and he freezes when he sees when he's not in not only one but three of them. So, people in his biology class may not have known today, but they definitely will tomorrow, along with everyone else in all of his other classes, and everyone else that he passes in the halls. Alex felt sick dealing with the few stares he got today, how in the hell is he going to manage the entire school looking at him tomorrow?

Or, maybe he's just being really self-absorbed. Maybe they won't care. They might see it, read it, think 'oh, ha, what a nerd,' and write it off. They'll pass him and won't look at him because why would they care that he's a prince? It's not like they live in Beasiga. It's not like him being Prince of Beasiga impacts them in any way. So, yeah. Self-absorbed.

"Hey, hot dog."

Alex clicks his phone off and pushes it in his pocket, pushes his thoughts away. "Willie. Hey."

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Alex figures that this is going to be like their Fridays, where Willie picks him up and sort of just—wings it as he goes, but as soon as he gets in the car he has a purpose. He drives them to Alex's favorite tea shop and, before Alex can even begin speaking to the cashier, asks for the order to go. When their tea is ready they start driving again, a fifteen-minute drive until they're at one of the hiking trails just outside of Los Feliz. Alex supposes it's just to give them something to do, or to keep them away from other people, he's not sure why Willie chose this, but he doesn't think Willie factored in the tea to the hike. The tea is hot in his hands while they walk so he has to keep passing it back and forth between them.

"See, with invisibility you could skate wherever you wanted within reasonable distance, but with teleportation you could skate in a lot more places legally by just popping away," Willie explains, answering Alex's question about his reasoning for his choice of super powers. "So like, it'd have to be one of those two for me, I'm just… I don't know which one."

"I feel like you'd get more added benefits beyond the skating perks with teleportation," Alex says. "Go on vacation whenever, break in places, no rush hour traf—"

"I'm sold. No rush hour? Down."

Alex watches Willie make an exaggerated motion with his hands and then kicks at the trail dirt. He smiles and turns away.

"What about you then?" Willie asks. "What's your super power?"

"I don't know," Alex admits. "Is there a super power where you just… don't get anxious?" Next to him, Willie laughs. "No, I… I'm not sure. Indestructibility might be nice. I… I, like, wanna die of old age. Not in a car crash or some freak accident."

"Nice. Fits with your brand."

"What brand?"

"Anxiety."

They keep talking—they talk most of the time, about weird encounters they've had in Downtown LA, about whether or not ghosts are real, but never about the news article—sorry, articles. And when it's silent it's nice, too. And then sometime later—he's not sure how much later because he hasn't looked at his phone once, but their teas are gone and thrown away in trailside garbage cans—they make it to a peak. They take a seat in the dirt right off the trail and in the distance he can see Downtown LA. Alex's legs are stretched out in front of him and he leans back on his hands, and Willie sits next to him, cross-legged. They're close enough that Willie's knee is pressing into Alex's thigh and Alex is trying not to think about that, because he still can't make sense of what has changed the past couple of weeks, of how it's changed and why it's changed—of the touches of the hand holding of the dates of the—this was actually my parents first date, too—of the too.

"So what'd your grandma and, uh, her people say about all of this today?" Willie asks after a few minutes, finally broaching the subject.

Alex shrugs. "They weren't happy, obviously. It was, uh. An intern from the consulate who did it. I feel bad, but it's just… I mean… it was just… everyone knew that the press wasn't meant to know, right? They had a briefing over that. And I don't know if she wasn't there for it or wasn't paying attention or if she just didn't care… But, yeah, a journalism student got her first published article in LA Times because of it, at least." Willie's eyebrows shoot up, mirroring Alex's exact initial reaction. "But, um. Grandma's really mainly concerned about my safety, you know? Lessa had to go over our school's security with her a few times for her to feel secure, and John asked to have someone from his security team in the front office for anyone who visits throughout the day so they can vet them, which Lessa agreed to, but… I don't know. It feels over the top, but… you didn't get to see it, but there were so many news vans outside the school today, man. It was wild. So maybe it's not over the top. It's—just. Man, this is just like the prince thing all over again. It feels like a joke, or like a dream, you know?"

"Yeah," Willie says, nudging Alex's shoulder with his. "How's your anxiety dealing with it?"

"Honestly? Not that great," he admits. "Julie made me realize that it's not so much public speaking I'm bad at as it is people… noticing me. And now? So many people are going to notice me and I don't know how to handle that. I've always been anxious, and then I became a prince. Which did not calm me down. Now, to add to that, the world now knows I'm a prince. What do you think that's going to do for my anxiety?"

"Huh," Willie huffs. He looks over at Alex, tongue poking in his lower lip. His eyes drift from Alex out to looking at downtown LA, and then his entire demeanor changes. "I bet I know something that will help," he says, and in one quick motion hops to his feet. Alex watches him from where he's still sat in the dirt. Willie stares down at him with a maniacal grin on his face. "Yelling. on. a mountain." And then he throws his head back and screams.

Alex drops his jaw, whipping his head around. "Willie!" he gasps, reaching over and grabbing at the other boy's leg. "Willie—shh!" Willie stops, laughing, and looks back down at Alex. Alex stares up at him. "We're okay! Everything's okay!" Alex calls out as loud as he can.

"C'mon, man!" Willie encourages. "Ah!" he screams, much shorter than his first go. He nudges Alex with his foot.

Alex huffs. "Ahhhh," he breathes, sounding more like he's sinking into a hot bath than he is dropping off the top of a roller coaster.

Willie laughs, loud and open, and reaches down to grab the front of Alex's hoodie. "No, dude. You're doing this. Come on. Stand up. Spread your feet, brace yourself, take a deep breath. Ready?" Alex does everything Willie says and then bites his lip, hard. He can already feel the scream welling up inside him, ready to burst out. So when Willie screams at him, Alex screams back, and feels a pressure release somewhere deep inside him. When he cuts off, he already wants to do it again, so he does, and for much longer this time—this time, he screams until his lungs are screaming in their own way for air, and Willie screams right along with him. Tension that Alex didn't even know he had snaps and he feels like some lock inside of him has been broken. He's breathing hard and feels himself beaming at Willie, who has grabbed on to him at some point and is still holding him in his grip. Alex, in his current state of mind, really doesn't want Willie to let him go. And yet, Willie flashes his eyebrows and takes a step back, dropping Alex's shoulders in the process.

"Feels good, right?"

Alex grins. "Yeah. It does." And then. "Oh, my god." He looks around them again and yells, "we're okay! Everyone's fine!" In a normal voice he says, "there's going to be a news article later tonight about the search for two hikers who were screaming for help, isn't there? Because that's how my life is going."

Willie tosses his head back and laughs, and falls back to the ground. Alex joins him a second later, hesitating only because he's not sure if he should sit as close as they were initially sitting or not. He settles on a middle ground—sitting close enough that Willie could brush against him, but that he wasn't pressed against him. When he's settled back into the dirt, Willie starts the conversation back up. "I am excited to see what rumors might pop up about you though," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Alex has a sudden thought. "What if they find out I'm gay?" Oh, god.

Willie frowns. "I thought you were only out to us?"

"I mean, technically, but there have been rumors at our school for—for how long now?" Years. There have been rumors for years. And all it took was one person like that intern talking to the wrong person and passing that rumor along and then Alex will have to—have to ask Flynn to pretend to date him or something and—no, god, no he can't do that, to himself or to her. "And like you just said, rumors are all the news need—and I don't—I don't want to have to deal with a fake girlfriend to get those rumors to go away, or, or—"

"Alex," Willie coos, gripping Alex's bicep tightly in his hand. "Alex, calm down. It'll all be okay. You won't have to. Okay?"

"But my parents," he says, realizing. Oh, god. It's not just the public he has to worry about. "My grandma—they don't, she doesn't—she doesn't know."

"That's okay," Willie says.

"She should know though. I'm just—I'm not… brave enough…" …but he can be.

He just screamed at the top of a mountain for the hell of it. It's not a very tall mountain, it's really much more of a hill, but that takes away from his point.

"Alex, what, of course you—"

"Willie?" Oh god. Whatever that lock that broke inside of him was, it was really, truly broke. And there was no going back.

"Huh?"

He closes his eyes. Okay. He's doing this. This is a thing he's going to do. He's going to be brave. He's going to do this, and then he'll be brave enough to tell his grandmother, right? If he can do this he can do anything. He's going to do it. He is. Just in—3, 2, "I like you," he blurts out, and… it's out there. He did it. Some pressure in his shoulders releases but—but that's not all he has to say. "And like, before you say something dumb like 'I like you too, dude.' I just. I mean in the way that's probably closer to the way that means 'I'm in love with you' than anything else. So like. Maybe not I like you. Maybe I love you. I don't know. I'm not sure how that's supposed to feel but I've felt it for a long time, specifically towards you, and it's never gone away, and it's only gotten stronger, so maybe that's love, but maybe I just have a really big crush on you? I don't—"

He's cut off by—

Huh.

He's cut off by Willie kissing him.

Without hesitation, he kisses back, hands automatically reaching up to hold Willie's face, his thumbs tracing over Willie's cheekbones as their lips move against each other. Willie's knee presses way too hard into Alex's thigh, probably hard enough to leave a bruise, and Alex can feel Willie jostling back and forth, can feel his hand sliding along the dirt as he shifts his hand to change his position. It's a little awkward, but it's—

It's good.

Willie pulls back far too soon, but Alex can feel the grin spreading on Willie's lips against his, before they even part. Willie doesn't lean all the way back. He pushes their foreheads together and bumps their noses together. "Maybe I just have a really big crush on you, too," he says.

"Oh."

Willie laughs, and sits back then. "Alex?"

"Huh?"

"You know that means I love you too, right?"

"Oh. No."

"Alex?"

"Huh?"

"I love you too."

#willex #willex fic #willex fanfic #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

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youreverycolor · 5 years

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An Unlikely Love: Fight For It, Pt. 2 (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #43 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“Do you believe in soulmates?” – “No.” – “Oh, well, that’s a shame, because I’m it. I’m your soulmate.”)

The conclusion of Fight For It. I hope you guys enjoy. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :)

Special thanks to @madpanda75, @thatesqcrush, and @misssirenlove for love, support, idea-bouncing, and generally being wonderful women.

Tagging: @danahart1 @nikkijmorgan @ele-esposito @dianilaws @sunnyfortomorrow @mommakat32 @lucifersadvisor @gibbs274 @oliviamariathegirl @evee87 @tropes-and-tales @garturbo @delia26 @neely1177 @jennisdirtyimagines @lostintech0011001 @letty-o @lucifersadvisor @sunnyfortomorrow @literallyprentissstwin @gibbs274 @dianilaws

Song: "Ours” by Taylor Swift

~*~*~*~

There was nearly a decade between Amanda Rollins and Anna Stein, but they could easily be mistaken for sisters, only a year or two apart. Of all the squad members, Anna was closest with Olivia, and so she might have asked if the lieutenant could use some time away from work, but she thought better of it. Olivia was Rafael’s best friend, after all, and he would probably want to talk to her over the course of the week. However, since the party he had thrown to celebrate Anna’s first semester grades, Amanda and Anna had also formed a fast friendship. Amanda was a lot of fun and up for anything without needing an explanation, as Liv might have asked for. As it turned out, she also had a copious amount of vacation time saved up. So, she bribed Carisi into taking Jesse for the week—with the use of her sitter for the daytime—and told Olivia a slight fib about a “family emergency back home.” By Tuesday night, she and Anna were on a plane headed to Tennessee.

Originally, Anna had suggested Vegas, but Amanda—a recovering gambling addict—quickly countered with Nashville. Anna had never been there, but Amanda said she would love it: all the fun of Vegas bars without the price tag, and the added bonus of hot cowboys. Amanda knew Nashville like the back of her hand; she had graduated from Middle Tennessee State University. The college was only about thirty miles from downtown Nashville, and Amanda and her friends frequently went into the city on weekends. So she knew exactly where to go and what to do, and Anna was more than happy to let her lead the way.

Although in some ways, Amanda had become a hardened New Yorker, she quickly reverted to her roots after only a day in Tennessee. She took Anna along for the ride, converting the native Californian to a Southern belle. During the days, they visited the Parthenon, Music Row, and the Country Music Hall of Fame. They took walks along the riverfront and even went to the Grand Ole Opry. Amanda had done most of these things already, but she was content to do them again with her friend, who clearly needed the distraction.

At night, they teased their blonde hair (Amanda joked that “the higher the hair, the closer to God”) and wore obscenely short denim skirts and cowboy boots while drinking on Honky Tonk Row. At some point, they found themselves in a karaoke bar, and Anna shocked the hell out of Amanda by singing the mysterious, little-known third verse of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” They talked about their families and how much they missed them; Amanda’s mother and sister had moved back to Atlanta and she rarely got to see them, while all of Anna’s family still lived in Los Angeles, where she also had lived until four years ago. But all the while, Anna did not bring up Rafael once, and Amanda didn’t ask about him.

But by dinner on Monday, Amanda’s curiosity got the better of her. They were sitting at a bar nursing vodka tonics and eating the best burgers Anna had ever had, when Amanda asked, “So, since we’re scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning, you gonna tell me why we came?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, as much fun as this trip has been—”

“So much fun!” Anna said. “It’s honestly been the best girls’ trip I’ve ever taken.”

Amanda smiled. “I’m glad you had fun, but I have to ask…”

Anna set her burger down in favor of a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to make it weird for you when you have to deal with him at work,” she said. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”

“Okay, first off,” Amanda began, “unless you’re telling me about whatever weird kinks Barba has in the sack, nothing you could say would make me feel weird around him. And second, it must have been a pretty big deal for you to want to get out of the damn state for a week.”

“Maybe I just wanted to do something fun over spring break with a friend,” Anna replied, avoiding eye contact.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m a detective, right?”

Anna laughed. “You and, like, half my other friends.” She put her face in her hands and then turned on her bar stool toward Amanda and told her the whole story, starting with Rafael’s Spanish-laced tirade when he arrived home to the moment he stormed back out. Amanda listened quietly the entire time, the same as she did when investigating a case. Her face betrayed nothing—no doubt a skill she learned in her gambling days.

When Anna finally finished, Amanda took a deep breath. “You know, I can’t say any of this surprises me.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Amanda downed the last of her vodka. “Well, let me start by saying that you did the right thing getting out of there. A lot of women would’ve hung around waiting for him to get home. Took a lot of guts to do what you did.”

“What, run away?”

“You planning to go back?”

“Of course,” Anna said, a little taken aback.

“Then you didn’t run away. You decided that for the good of your relationship, you needed to take some time for yourself. No shame in that.”

Anna took a moment to process this. “It really was a stupid fight,” she finally said.

“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “But, you know, all couples fight. At least you’re fighting about stupid things than about, I don’t know, whatever the hell my old partner, Nick, and his wife used to fight about.”

“I guess,” Anna said.

Amanda put her hand on top of Anna’s. “Anna, look at me.” Anna looked up, pushing a wisp of her hair away from her eyes. “You’ve gotta understand, Barba has been alone for a long time. And take it from me, when you’re alone that long, you get used to thinking you’re right all the time because there’s no one telling you otherwise.”

“I get that, but maybe we’re just too different. Maybe he’s been alone too long. Maybe I don’t take things seriously enough. Maybe it’s just too—”

Amanda held up her hands. “Look, I get it. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass. Hell, he’s hard to work with, so I can’t imagine living with him. You’ve got a pretty big age gap, and you’re both really busy with work and school. So I would completely understand if you decided you weren’t right for each other.” Then she softened her voice. “But I told you once before, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And when I asked if you were planning to go back, you looked at me like I was nuts for even asking that question. That says something to me.”

Suddenly, the bartender came over with two shots of whiskey. “From the gentlemen down that way,” he said, gesturing to two young, extremely handsome men sitting at the end of the bar.

Anna and Amanda looked at the men, then at each other. “You wanna go talk to ‘em?” Amanda asked, a sly grin on her face.

Anna hesitated for a second, looked at the men again, and then took out her phone. “Give me a second.” A minute later, she put it away and grabbed one of the shot glasses. “Okay. Ready.”

They clinked their glasses, tapped them on the bar, and downed the shots. “Sisters, right?” Amanda asked, referring to their cover story.

Anna hopped off her barstool and the two of them linked arms. “Sisters.”

***

Rafael was miserable.

Anna had only texted him twice a day since she’d landed in Nashville the previous Tuesday: once in the morning, and once at night. It was largely the same message every time: good morning or goodnight, and that she hoped he had a good day. He appreciated that, despite her anger, she at least wanted him to know that she was safe. And he wanted to give her the space she had clearly demanded, so he didn’t message more than that. He wasn’t a jealous man who needed to know what his girlfriend was doing every minute of the day, after all. Anna had gone on a handful of trips with her friends over the course of their relationship. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was that this time, she did it to get away from him rather than to get away with other people. That made all the difference. He trusted Anna implicitly. But every night, after he’d finally dragged himself home to bed, his brain went to a dark place where she met some stranger in Nashville, some ridiculous cowboy, who made her realize that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And because of what? A damn pen.

The day after she left, he threw them all out.

He felt like a bachelor again, but this time it wasn’t self-imposed. Nevertheless, he had reverted to his bachelor ways, working as much as he could until the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday and Friday mornings, Carmen had found him asleep on his office couch in the same clothes he’d worn the previous day. He worked right through the weekend, up until Sunday night. The good news was that he actually seemed to have caught up on a good deal of his backlogged work. The bad news was that he couldn’t even enjoy the spoils because he had no one to enjoy them with.

He had lunch with Olivia a couple of times and didn’t mention what was going on. She noticed something was off, but he deflected, saying he just hadn’t slept well that week. It wasn’t a lie.

Since he had gotten caught up with work that week, he decided to take Monday off. He cleaned out his closet, donating a bunch of clothes he hadn’t worn in a year. Anna had said more than once that she wanted to get a rain shower head, so he went out and bought one and installed it. Carisi came over with Jessie and a pizza that evening. Rafael had never been comfortable around children, but he had to admit that watching Carisi play with Jesse made him want to participate. So he and the detective and Amanda’s daughter colored and ate pizza—and for a minute, he forgot about being alone. Then, he got the nightly text from Anna, and was reminded all over again that she wasn’t going to be next to him in bed.

By Tuesday, he was climbing the walls. Work was the only thing he knew would take his mind off of the long wait until she arrived back home, so he threw himself into it that day. He had to give his phone to Carmen so that he wouldn’t be tempted to check it every ten seconds. She gave him a weird look but took it anyway. When three o’clock hit, he gathered his things to head home. Anna’s flight was due in at four, and he wanted to be there when she got home so that he could tell her what he’d failed to tell her before she left.

***

The light in the bedroom was on when he got home. For a split second, he was terrified—was there an intruder? And would his briefcase be enough to knock said intruder unconscious? But then he noticed the suitcase against the wall adjacent to the living room.

His heart raced. She must have gotten back early.

He found her in the master bathroom putting her toiletries away. She was wearing old, beat-up jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair was in a messy ponytail, but to Rafael, she had never looked more beautiful. He stood watching her for just a second, breathless. He worried if he said anything that it wouldn’t come out right. The last conversation they had turned out terribly.

But as soon as she turned her blue eyes up and locked onto the green of his, words were the last thing on either of their minds.

She flew at him, leaping into his arms and knocking him backwards onto the bed. She kissed him everywhere; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and, finally, finally, his mouth. He kissed her so deeply that he thought he might actually be able to drink her. She tasted like mint and smelled like ripe peaches. She had come back to him in a flood of living memories. She had come back to him, period.

He finally pulled back to look her in the eyes again, his own wet with tears. “Te amo,” he said. “Te amo, mi corazón.” He repeated it like a prayer, so many times that he worried it lost meaning, but to Anna, nothing ever sounded better.

Rafael made love to Anna for the next two hours, and every time he moaned her name, “I love you” wasn’t far behind.

After they were both finally spent, they lay under a throw blanket on the bedroom carpet; at some point in their lovemaking, Anna actually rolled off the bed and they just continued there, laughing and kissing all at once. She told Rafael about her trip and all the things she and Amanda had seen and done. He hung on every word. But there was one more story she had to tell, and she hoped that when he heard it, he would understand why she reacted the way she did when he arrived home.

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I mentioned, we had a cover story on this trip that we were sisters. We didn’t use our own names with anyone we met the entire time. It was like being undercover. So last night—”

He laughed. “Okay, I have to know. What was your UC name?”

“I was Ariel and Amanda was Aurora.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously used Disney princess names?”

“Well, if you’re gonna go UC, no better cover than a mermaid and a narcoleptic princess, right?”

“Does that mean I get to be Eric?” When she gaped at him, he said, “We’ve been together for over a year. I think you underestimate how much Disney trivia I’ve picked up in that time.”

She drew in a deep breath and focused her eyes on his. “So, as I was saying, last night, we were having dinner and two really hot cowboys sent us shots of whiskey.”

He sat up slightly, alarmed. “Okay, why are you telling me—”

“Because you need to hear this,” she said, pushing him back down and propping herself up on her elbow. “Amanda wanted to go talk to them. And we ended up having a really good conversation. It was a lot of fun.” He looked stricken, and she softened her expression. “Raf, you know nothing happened, right?”

“Of course I know that,” he said, although he was glad for the confirmation. “I just—it’s not that I don’t want you to go on trips with your friends. But this time…I guess I wish I could have been there with you.”

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “You were, Raf. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Right before we went to talk to them? That was when I texted you goodnight. Because I wanted to make sure I said goodnight before you went to bed—whenever the hell that was this week. I didn’t want to do it late and have you wonder if I’d forgotten you.”

He felt tears welling in his eyes again. “Anna, I never would have thought that.”

“Even still. You were on my mind every night and every morning. I wasn’t just texting you to let you know I was safe. I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, no matter where I am or how things are between us, I’m always thinking of you. And,” she added, “I’ll always come home to you.”

He sat up and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, into her hair, and brought his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I’m sorry, too.” Then, she grabbed his watch from the nightstand above them. “I know it’s not our usual date night, but I could sure as hell use dinner and a movie right now. How about you?”

He smiled at her and ran a hand along her hip, memorizing the curves. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

***

Anna wiped away her tears, which had been flowing for the last twenty minutes. After they’d eaten, she and Rafael had settled in to watch her favorite movie, What Dreams May Come. The plot was simple: the two main characters, Chris and Annie, lose their children in a horrible car accident. Annie has a mental breakdown and is institutionalized until she and Chris manage to rebuild their lives. But four years later, Chris also dies. His afterlife is beautiful, and he is reunited with his children. But when Annie commits suicide and is sent to hell, Chris journeys there to save her.

Even though Anna had seen it a thousand times, watching the two characters reunited at the end of the movie never failed to turn her into a weeping mess. She didn’t even try to hide it. “God,” she said, “That scene where they’re in Hell and he’s about to join her there and—Raf? Are you okay?”

Unlike Anna, Rafael preferred people think he was born without tear ducts. But there was no mistaking the sound of his sniffling next to her. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She leaned over and turned the end table light on. As her eyes adjusted, she caught him wiping his cheek with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying!”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are.” She handed him a Kleenex from the box she’d judiciously placed next to her before the movie started. He took it and blew his nose. “I warned you it was a gut-punch.”

“When you said it was a movie about soulmates, I think I expected, well, the usual tropes. I wasn’t prepared for something that seemed…realistic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Almost the entire movie was set in heaven, and this is the one you’re calling realistic?”

“That’s not what I mean. Usually, movies make it seem like soulmates are perfect together and never fight and read each other’s minds. But come on, who gets that?”

She laughed. “People in movies.”

“Exactly,” he said. “People whose lives are literally scripted. But I don’t think our lives are predestined. For instance, I don’t think whatever higher power there is intended for you to be assaulted so that I could meet you.”

She cast her eyes downward. “Well, I’m glad to know that, because if that were the case, I’d think God was a huge asshole.”

He shifted on the couch to face her. “You want to know what part of the movie it was that got me?”

“Of course.”

He took a deep breath. “It was when they finally explained what their double-D anniversary was.” In the movie, Chris and Annie had a special anniversary; it commemorated the day they decided not to divorce after their children died and Annie had her breakdown.

“Oh, I know. When he told her not to give up—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He cleared his throat. “When I first heard them described as soulmates, I was internally rolling my eyes. But then, we saw them suffering in two completely different ways. He pushed the pain away, and she collapsed under it.”

“Life’s like that,” she replied. “People react differently to things.”

“Yeah. But that’s what got me. They weren’t on the same wavelength at all. They didn’t just push through everything together like it was easy. They had to make an active decision to do it. When they chose to stay together, even after the gargantuan amount of suffering they went through…”

She pushed her hair over one of her shoulders and tilted her head. “So you do believe in soulmates now?”

“You know,” he said, “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility. But like I said, I think soulmates aren’t people who are perfect together.” He took her hand. “I think they’re two people who aren’t perfect together—maybe even two people don’t even make sense together—but who make the choice every day to come back to each other. They fight, sometimes blow up, maybe don’t even speak to each other for a week, but they actively choose each other every day.”

She moved closer to him, tucking her legs underneath herself. “That sounds…very plausible.”

“Plausible,” he repeated with a chuckle. “In what world am I the romantic in this relationship?”

She grinned. “We can share the title.”

“I was thinking about the fight we had,” he said, pivoting so fast that Anna was worried he was shutting down on her again.

“Okay?”

“It was a nothing fight, but it turned into this big blow-up,” he continued. “A lot of couples would have let it get into their heads and make it into something about the relationship itself.”

She picked off a piece of lint from his shirt and smoothed the fabric over his shoulder. “Well, we’re not other couples.”

He nodded. “And I know how people look at us when we’re out together. They see you, this beautiful, young, vibrant woman, and then they see me—”

“A handsome, distinguished, slightly silver fox?” she offered, gently touching his hair, the silver in it just beginning to show.

He smiled and put his hand on her cheek. The softness of her skin was like her generous heart: it never failed to amaze him. “The point is, despite what people think or say, or when life makes love hard, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we work at this, even through the hardest days, because we want to. We choose each other, every day—even if we need to go to other states to do it.” He winked at her.

She lifted his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm, her heart beating so hard it might have jumped out of her chest. “Are you saying…”

He didn’t complete her thought, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer when he gave her that half-smile she loved so much. It made him look like a man much younger than his years, almost timid, a little mischievous. “I know, I just destroyed my grumpy, cynical persona. Don’t tell the squad; I have a reputation to keep up.”

For a minute, he was afraid that she would think he was silly or—worse—being disingenuous. But then he caught her eyes with his, and they were sparkling. She crawled from her spot on the couch into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, in the movies, this would be when the boy asks the girl to marry him,” she laughed.

He pulled her to him, so that their lips almost touched. “Well, we’re not other couples,” he said, just before he closed the gap between them.

***

Two weeks later, Anna had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago while she was reading and he was reviewing case files. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t fallen asleep when she read on the couch. She would lay with her legs stretched across his lap and he would run his hands along her calves, sometimes massaging them if she’d had a particularly hard day at the diner. She thought it was for her benefit, but the truth was, he loved doing it. Knowing he could relax her into sleep just with the touch of his hands was an intimacy he loved even more than sex. And so it was that he found himself lifting her legs off of his lap carefully, trying not to wake her. Mercifully, she was a heavy sleeper. It would probably be a struggle to get her into bed later on. For now, he decided to just change into pajamas and do the rest of his work in the home office. But there was something he wanted to do first.

The fight they’d had was a turning point. It had been a result of nothing more than mishandled stress on both of their parts. It hadn’t been anything deeper than that. But it had scared him more than any other argument they had ever had. She had gone away on trips before that, but he hadn’t been lonely. Their apartment still felt like their home because he knew she would be back. But when she’d been away with Amanda that week, he had been afraid she would realize she was happier away from him. So their home had temporarily transformed into just a place to keep his stuff. It didn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t feel warm. It just felt like four walls he slept in. Waking up without her was excruciating, as was knowing he would have to fall asleep without her there. He’d missed her laughter, her smile, the way he could smell her shampoo for hours after she’d left the bed. He’d missed seeing her body wash next to his in the shower.

He had missed her legs on his lap.

He crept into the bedroom and turned on the nightstand light, the dimmest in the room, so as not to wake her from afar. Then he went into the closet and opened one of the drawers. She never went into his closet, saying that she was afraid she would get lost under a pile of ties and vests, never to be seen again. He reached deep within the drawer, toward the back, and found what he was looking for.

Anna had joked that, in the movies, after a boy told a girl she was his soulmate, he would ask her to marry him. Although he had deflected the comment with a kiss, for just a heartbeat, he thought she had somehow tripped, fallen, and landed in his sock drawer. He had managed to compose himself, but now, his overstimulated, paranoid brain needed to make sure she hadn’t actually found what he was holding.

He looked over his shoulder, and then carefully opened the velvet box in his hand. The ring he had bought was still there, the question within it. All he had to do was choose a day to ask.

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ninolitebrown · 4 years

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NO CAP

In this modern world you are supposed to have a perfect image for the net. Come off as if you do not have any flaws are issues. Everyone here are either rich, can cook, or have straight pearly white teeth. That is what wrong with this shit. People do not believe that there is beauty in the struggle. Mfr’s edit out their blemishes and stretch marks just so that you can think they are perfect. Now all of a sudden the natural wave is commercial.

For me natural is organically embracing who you are without any distractions. But how can you do that if your intentions were aligned with what someone else is doing - do you really believe that you are beautiful and love yourself?

I am driven by the chip on my shoulders while being consciously straightforward. Not that I care what people think. But it’s easier to be yourself than Appeasing to this fake image that is driven by social media

THE STORM

In 2018 I lost multiple investment properties between St Louis and Atlanta. Squandered over a half of million in cash while destroying my credit 800 to low 500’s over night. That’s coming off mourning my mom and one of my best friends Drew passing. The issue is that I was trying to move too damn fast. I set a goal to buy 3 properties in 2019 - that goal turned into wanting to buy 10+.

I was getting money way too fast to be honest. buying and flipping taking in boat loads of cash without a hint of education of the business. I was moving on street knowledge. Same year I found out that I was having my first born.

just think of the stress i should of been in?

I was broke AF with a 6 figure income - and a baby on the way in Los Angeles.

To be completely honest; I was *relieved, from the stress of holding all the projects together without proper knowledge of the real estate business. If you ever need help on what not to do. I am your guy!!

But how can you be stressed with such a face. My baby boy saved my life in so many ways. Anyone can attest, your kid relieve you of boredom and stress of the outside world.

2 years later, i scraped myself together and made everything i lost in investments back. How did i do it?? (You MFR’s will need to buy my book in the future)

The biggest fight was not getting my investments in order. Anyone will tell you who make money - once you had it. It is easy to get it back. Making money is an natural instinct - the shit just happen.

Making money after losing everything is like painting with new brushes. Everything is cleaner and sharper with precision. Your strokes are more careful but you move freely because of the experience.

HOWEVER

The real fight is the CURRENT battle to hold on to the relationship with my son who I love so much. My now ex and I separated after a tumultuous relationship molded By social media images and no substance.

Let me rewind for a moment

I met her 7 or so years ago in STL after finishing up college. We met in a club or lounge. I was just coming off a relationship a week or so prior. Honestly, i was probably still in love with the thought of that ex who i was with for a few years. While in the lounge my radar was completely off, i was only thinking about vibing with my boys. So this girl comes alone with her friend who was making eye contact with me. I saw her but did not see my current ex, i did not know they were together. To my surprise my ex was interested in me and asked for my information. I was like cool here ya go no intentions. The interest in her stemmed from traveling. As she was a flight attendant for a commuter carrier and i had just so happened to work for a major airline.

Within a few months of us kicking it, i accepted a job in promotion with my company to Minneapolis

No surprise it was cold AF up north.

I did not know this girl I was seeing That well. But the fact that we could travel and see each other anytime because of flight perks made things interesting. Weird side note; she suggested quitting her job to move to Minnesota with me to work at Hooters. I did not think it was smart at all.

She loved the company I worked for so I recommended her for a job. Crazy how the universe work. My then company hired her the same day she got fired from the company she worked at. Just for taking time off to participate in a Missouri Pageant. Well that’s what she told me

She accepted the job with my then company, which eventually moved her to ATL from STL.

Year pass and I accepted a new job with my current job in Denver. You guessed it - long distance dating made things challenging. To be completely honest i didn’t much faith in the relationship, as I started hanging out with other girls in Denver. I knew she was kicking it with guys in ATL but i didn’t care much, whenever we would get together it would be cool. Not to mention that on random occasions we would travel and create new experiences.

She even moved to Denver for a few months and commuted back in forth to ATL. Just to see if things would work out. The commute was challenging for her and stressful on our relationship. But it was interesting that whenever she was not working she would travel to LA to hang out with this BFF. I was obv curious because i wanted that time when she was available. She then hacked my computer found some girls that I would talk to before she moved To Denver. Got upset and moved to ATL. But in reality i always felt that she wanted to be in ATL anyway. We also “broke up “ For a week.

Within that week i found out about a guy she was hanging out with in ATL that apparently she met during an brand ambassador photo shoot. She told me they made out. No biggie - but it was also 2 other guys, 1 she met while traveling allegedly some old rich guy with a jet - the other was a guy that was not her BFF in LA when she would take off from Denver to visit while we were together. It also came across my mind of all the athletes she seems to know from doing charter flights. I got word from a few internal sources that she was the runner/groupie for celeb athletes.

SHE MET ALL THESE GUYS WHILE WE WERE SEPARATED FOR A WEEK *ALLEGEDLY

I knew something was weird while we were together in Denver. We would go extended time without having sex. Which means she would be tight right? MFR be loose as a goose and I’d be like huh? How is that possible lol.

I later found out that the guy from the Jet and LA were the same person. She also admitted to having sex with him once.

“within the week we were separated”

As a non confrontational person I typically don’t ask questions. Hell I typically don’t GAF about much or check for lies. You can tell me the sky is 14k gold, i wont’ look and would be like *Kool.

Anyway I patched things up in ATL with her and we were back dating.

But that didn’t mean I would ditch the female friends in Denver i was hanging out with. Why? I didn’t trust that we had a real situation - it was long distance.

LA is on my mind:

I alway considered moving to LA. My best friend Spincer moved to Cali 15 yrs ago. I was supposed to move with him. I GOT SCARED

But I was interviewing with companies in LA prior to my current gig while living in Minneapolis. I was between working with USC in their Athletic Department and 3M. My ex joined me for one of those interviews in LA. She had an idea of what i was worth. So 3M was an absolute no in her mind. She believed it wasn’t right for me. But i knew she was hating because i was on the verge of moving to LA. So after the 3M interview i told her i was really considering taking the position. Noticed that she was not happy at all - I clearly remember telling her that “you don’t control me” and she literally swung and hit me in my mouth while i was driving. I pulled over and told her to get the hell out of this car. All of a sudden she had an “anxiety attack”. Crazy because this happened in the city i currently live in of Manhattan Beach.

The MFR wanted me to take her to the hospital but my lip was bleeding. I let it go, because that was my first time experiencing such an episode. Super traumatizing.

The second time she hit me in the face was again driving in LA to meet up with my friend Shanell at Fat Sal’s after church. She got mad at me for something and hit me in the face again. *Trend (when ever you are driving and focused on something else she may swing)

*correction whenever you are not paying attention she will pull off the fake shit

I pulled over this time and was clear. “That’s the second time and the last time you put your fucking hands on me, the next time you will never see me again”

The Cali move finally happens:

So my ex moved to LBC, I finally join her in the same city for literally the first time of our relationship approximately 8-9 months after her. We have gone about 5 years without even really knowing each other or committing to a relationship.

She’s still traveling often for work, which was cool because that’s how we alway knew each other (from traveling). I still had loose ends from Denver that I had to clear up. My ex had a habit of hacking my accounts just to see who i was talking to. Guilty Conscious? Perhaps.

5-6 months later i convinced her to boss up and take on a bigger role with the company which required office work. So at this point we are home smelling each other’s breath daily for the first time of our relationship. NOT SO FAST we get pregnant.

Which means we don’t really know each other. However, the person i am going to get to know is in the emotional state of a pregnacy. Add that to the fact that whenever the MFR get caught in her shit she seems to have an “Anxiety Attack”

FAIRYTALE? NOT BUT NINJA WE GOT A BABY

This Ex of mine, live for that image of the net i was talking about. But in the background we are talking about one of the most toxic individuals i have ever met in my life. I got a car for her to drive that was nice, considering she had this busted honda with an awful payment plan. when we split i asked her to give me the car back in 48 hrs. Stemming from this text that was sent to my sister

My sis in blue - ex in white

Even though it was in my name there’s a California loophole with registration that allows a person to trade in a car if they are listed on the car a certain way. So yea; at the 24hr mark of me requesting the car back. Guess what this toxic individual did?

While celebrating as if she made a whopping accomplishment of buying a car alone. Smh That’s on the back heels of not answering calls, text, vm or emails of me requesting my kid daily. Not only am i still paying for Daycare weekly but the toxic individual stopped taking him so that i can’t see him there. All out of *spite Legally i am in the process of establishing paternity. even though i am on the birth certificate it’s more steps to the fuckery to have another layer of protection. FATHERS establish paternity with your kids i don’t care if things are going well right now. But also trying to get her the mental help that she deserve as her family and cronies are clueless that she is *In Fucking Sane*

EX. One day we were driving on the 405 leaving the valley. My EX and me were having a conversation about her cousin. The cousin had just lost her mom to breast cancer. So i suggested to my EX to invite the cousin to LA to visit for a while just to clear her head. She advised me that she did not like her cousin very much and would only allow her to visit for a weekend. It pissed me off because that same cousin was pivotal in helping me plan for her 30th bday/baby shower a few months prior including another friend. So i called her selfish for treating her cousin like shit. I did not like it at all. She gets mad for me calling her selfish (because i think of everyone except for her) and asked me to pull over on the 405 so that she could walk home. I said your are crazy - you are 8mths pregnant. You would not believe what happened next? This girl opened the door and tried to jump out the car. I grabbed her arm in the process. Forced her to shut the door, i closed the window and put the child safety locks on. Shook me to the core.

Check this - that was only another level of confirmation of what TF i was dealing with. Besides the suicidal thoughts expressed to me and my 16 year old niece, the attempts to kill our son while she was preg (intentionally falling on the belly twice). The multiple times she has punched me in the face and assualts while our son was present. I had nightmares that she would stab herself in the belly I called her mom pleading to help me - help her. She declined - later found out the mom was also bat shit crazy.

I plead with the judge in my DVRO to protect me and my relationship with my son. After the judge read the verdict calling my ex a liar and non credible (i wish her friends would realize) for accusing me of threatening to kidsnap my son. The judge dismissed my case while advising me that the harm she has done did not disturb my emotional peace. BIAS as Fuck - I guess the girl will need to shoot me in the head before they determine that she’s a threat to me, herself and our son. I can go on and on about this nut from the multiple hacks into my social media - blocking all of my female friends while talking shit to them. Throwing my suits off our balcony. Shading her female friends and the next day smiling in their faces. Accusing me of being Gay because I did not like her at all and deciding to sleep on the couch for months to avoid the toxic lunatic behavior.

Oh the big one, the MFR had people thinking that we were getting Married in September. Anyone recall the specific date, time, location, invite list, budget, colors or perhaps marriage license? MFR I can’t either. I didn’t know shit about a September wedding. I was just as surprised as ya’ll when i was laying on the couch watching the Last Dance one Monday morning.

she wrote a scathing Facebook message about us being broken up. And her clown ass friend rushed over to support as if we had just gotten into a fight.

I guess it was the friend showing support after the ex rushed over to that same friend house a while back because her current BF supposedly beat her ass. *Chics do the most

Poor thing did he really beat your ass or was it a lie? I never checked back to see if you were ok

The Liar forgot to inform her friend that we been done. Sooner or later her cronies will finally understand how fake she is. The shit will eventually come out!!! Here’s a nugget, I specifically advised that same friend to stop posting work shit on the gram. You don’t want them to come after you. You know THEM? One of THEM is my EX. She’s known for doing fucked up shit at work. How do i know? MFR I used to live with her. Not to mention i used to be an executive with her current company. I know plenty of people within the system. Oh the so called GOD MOTHER!! Never mind I’ll wait on this one. She’s an innocent bystander. She don’t know what she don’t know. I guarantee that she will get burnt by my ex sooner or later. The other is my old messy friend from elementary. You don’t deserve a mention. Just know that you are a snake. I have known that for years.

My ex don’t like being a black woman, the last thing we want is all the black woman cutting her off. If she doesn’t love herself and who she is - the likelihood of her genuinely loving black women in her circle are slim to none.

This isn’t an attempt to expose this bat shit crazy MFR. This is what it really looks like to go natural and strip away the fake shit and be real As Fuck!!!

*NOCAP

PUBLIC RECORD

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papermoonloveslucy · 7 years

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LUCY AND ALADDIN’S LAMP

S3;E21 ~ February 1, 1971

Directed by Charles Walters ~ Written by Frank Gill Jr. and Vin Bogert

Synopsis

When Lucy holds a garage sale, she discovers an old lamp. When wishes start to become reality Lucy believes the lamp may posses magic, until she loses it hiding it from Harry.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter)

Guest Cast

Mary Jane Croft (Mary Jane) played Betty Ramsey during season six of “I Love Lucy.” She also played Cynthia Harcourt in “Lucy is Envious” (ILL S3;E23) and Evelyn Bigsby in “Return Home from Europe” (ILL S5;E26). She played Audrey Simmons on “The Lucy Show” but when Lucy Carmichael moved to California, she played Mary Jane Lewis, the actor’s married name and the same one she uses on all 31 of her episodes of “Here’s Lucy. Her final acting credit was playing Midge Bowser on “Lucy Calls the President” (1977). She died in 1999 at the age of 83.

George Niese (Mr. Frost) previously appeared in “Lucy Becomes a Father” (TLS S3;E9). This is his only episode of “Here’s Lucy.”

Robert Foulk (Janitor) played the policeman on the Brooklyn subway platform in “Lucy and the Loving Cup” (ILL S6;E12) and a Los Angeles Detective in “Lucy Goes To A Hollywood Premiere” (TLS S4;E20). This is the third of his six characters on “Here’s Lucy.”

This is Foulk's third episode in a row on the series.

William Lanteau (Mr. Minkle) first appeared with Lucille Ball in The Facts of Life (1960). In addition to an episode of “The Lucy Show,” Lanteau did four episodes of “Here’s Lucy.” He is best remembered for playing Charlie the Mailman in the play and the film On Golden Pond (1981).

Mr. Minkle is the superintendent of the office building where Harry and Lucy work.

The Telegram Delivery Boy is uncredited and has no lines.

Some reports say this episode was filmed on April 6, 1970, ten months before its initial air date. However, that is a Monday, and most all episodes were filmed on Thursday or Friday after four days rehearsal, so this is unlikely.

This is the second of only two episodes directed by 1954 Oscar-winner Charles Walters. The previous entry was “Lucy’s House Guest, Harry” (S3;E20). He went on to direct two of the Lucille Ball Specials: “What Now, Catherine Curtis?” (1976) and “Three for Two” (1975). From 1942 to 1945, Walters served as dance director on six films starring Lucille Ball. This episode is mentioned in the biography Charles Walters: The Director Who Made Hollywood Dance by Brent Phillips.

Likewise, this was the second and final episode written by 1955 Emmy-winner Vin Bogert. The first was “Lucy Stops a Marriage” (S3;E16), which he also co-wrote with Frank Gill Jr. It was a posthumous credit for Gill, who died six months earlier. It was the penultimate screenwriting credit for Bogert, who died in 1978.

The title refers to the Middle Eastern folk tale of the boy Aladdin and a genie that comes from a lamp to grant him three wishes. It is one of the tales in The Book of One Thousand and One Nights ("The Arabian Nights"), and one of the best known - although it was not part of the original Arabic text, but was added in the 18th century by Frenchman Antoine Galland. The story has been the basis for many screen and stage re-tellings, including the current Disney musical Aladdin.

Another television sitcom was based on the legend of Aladdin: “I Dream of Jeannie” (1965-70), which had just ended its long run on NBC. It starred Barbara Eden as the genie named Jeannie, who lived in a bottle rather than a lamp. Barbara Eden made her TV debut on “I Love Lucy.” Hayden Rorke, who played the long-suffering Dr. Bellows on the series, also did an episode of “I Love Lucy” and recently appeared on “Here’s Lucy” as a Judge.

In the first scene, Craig is wearing a top hat with a flower in it. The other actors (Mary Jane Croft and George Niese) seem a bit taken aback by it.

MARY JANE: “Oh! I like your hat. (under her breath) Bless your heart.”

MR. FROST: (Points at the hat, surprised) “Oh! Oh ho ho ho.”

Perhaps it is something Desi Jr. saw in the props pulled for the scene and took a liking to? It also many have some sentimental significance to the actor, but for such a visual statement, it does not figure into the plot, which is unusual.

At the start of the episode, Kim is holding a heart-shaped throw cushion that may be a tribute to the opening credits of “I Love Lucy.”

Lucy gets a Western Union telegram from the (fictional) Murphy Soup Company to tell her she’s won a contest.

Lucy's prize-winning soup jingle is to the tune of “Jingle Bells,” a song that was heard many times on “I Love Lucy.”

Aside from Ann-Margret, Craig would wish for two tickets to the sold-our Rams Football game. After a dramatic thunder clap, Craig gets a call from his friend Alan who offers him a ticket. Craig says “How sweet it is!” Sex symbol and singing sensation Ann-Margret charmed Craig in a season 2 episode of “Here's Lucy.” The Los Angeles Rams would have been the Carters' hometown football team. “How sweet it is” was the catch phrase of actor / comedian Jackie Gleason (“The Honeymooners”), who made a cameo appearance in the second episode of the series.

Craig reads the October 1968 issue of McCall's with English actress Samantha Eggar on the cover. In “Ricky Has Labor Pains” (ILL S2;E14), pregnant Lucy Ricardo is reading the January 1953 McCall’s, which clearly has a cover that says “Why I Love Lucy” by Desi Arnaz.

Kim wishes for Jamoca Almond Fudge Ice Cream, her favorite. After a dramatic thunder clap, Uncle Harry promptly arrives at the door to deliver it! Jamoca Almond Fudge is a signature flavor of Baskin-Robbins, who first marketed it in 1959. It is made by combining Jamoca coffee ice cream with roasted almonds and a chocolate ribbon. The bag Harry is holding, however, is not branded with their logo: pink and brown polka dots encircling a large number 31, the number of flavors they offer.

The second scene opens with Harry and Lucy coming to work with a happy Harry (dreaming of great wealth if he got access to the lamp) paraphrasing Robert Browning’s verse drama Pippa Passes (1841). The original goes:

The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven - All's right with the world! — from Act I: Morning

Harry’s version replaces mention of larks and snails with “The sun is shining; the birds are singing” and omits any reference to the Deity altogether.

When Lucy won’t let Harry make any monetary wishes on her lamp, he storms off pouting and Lucy calls him Attila the Hun. Attila the Hun, was the ruler of the Huns from 434 until his death in March 453. During his reign, he was one of the most feared enemies of the Roman Empire.

Mary Jane tells Lucy that there's a sale on Italian knits at Morton's Department Store. Morton is Lucille Ball's married name since her marriage to Gary Morton (nee Goldaper) in 1961. Gary Morton is also a producer on “Here’s Lucy.” The fictional Morton’s Department Store joins Morton’s Service Station, Morton Pictures, and a number of other businesses named Morton on the series!

The janitor comes to empty the waste paper baskets idly singing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” The song was written by Chauncey Olcott, George Graff Jr., and Ernest Ball in 1912. It was sung by William Frawley (Fred Mertz) in the 1936 film It's A Great Life! and was heard on “I Love Lucy” in “The Star Upstairs” (ILL S4;E25).

Harry says the Unique Employment Agency is located in office #1506. This implies that they are on the 15th floor.

Finally finding the bottle in a dumpster, there is just one thing preventing Lucy from getting it back: a glass bottle! Preparing himself for Lucy to hit his finger with a hammer to get a bottle off it, he says “If John Wayne can do it, so can I.” John Wayne appeared with Lucille Ball as himself on “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show.” Both episodes were titled “Lucy Meets John Wayne.”

At the end of the episode, Craig reveals that the lamp is just a novelty store item manufactured in Pittsburgh. A disappointed Lucy corrects him.

The Mexican border city was the location of “Lucy and Viv Visit Tijuana” (S2;E19) aired a year earlier.

It wouldn’t be “Here’s Lucy” if Gale Gordon didn’t get wet!

Garage Sale Treasures!

Hanging above the steamer trunk is Lucy Ricardo's iconic blue polka dot dress from “I Love Lucy.” It was designed by Elois Jensen and was seen in many episodes of the series.

Next to the blue dress is an art deco poster of Sarah Bernhardt by Alphonse Mucha (1897). The poster was previously seen in the dorm room in “Lucy, the Co-Ed” (S3;E6) and in the studio of the knife thrower in “Lucy, the Cement Worker” (S2;E10).

The zebra lamp with the red shade was on the tables of the Red Devil nightclub “Lucy and Ma Parker” (S3;E15, left). Unboxing items for the garage sale, Lucie finds her favorite doll, Clarabelle. Clarabelle made an appearance in “Lucy, the Part-Time Wife” (S3;14), although she now has on a new frock.

Lucy pulls out a fur-lined jacket she says was worn by Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce. The 1945 film won Crawford an Academy Award. Joan Crawford guest starred on “The Lucy Show” in “Lucy and the Lost Star” (TLS S6;E22). Craig says that judging by the shoulder pads she could have worn it in The Spirit of Notre Dame. Craig is referring to a 1931 football-themed movie starring Lew Ayres.

Search through the building’s trash for the lamp instantly brings to mind when the Ricardo’s and Mertz’s searched through the trash of 623 East 68th Street to find the pieces of Lucy’s torn-up roman a clef in “Lucy Writes a Novel” (ILL S3;E24).

Lucy and Harry were also up to their necks in trash in “Lucy the Process Server” (S1;E3) - this time in a department store basement - searching for an envelope of cash.

Leaky ceilings in need of plastering was also a plot point in two episodes of “The Lucy Show”: “Lucy and Viv Put in a Shower” (TLS ) and “A Loophole in the Lease” (TLS S2;E12). Both times the leaks were caused by overflowing tubs and showers, but here the cause is the continual rainfall.

Sound vibrations and not water was the cause of the ceiling collapse that ended “Breaking the Lease” (ILL S1;E18).

Flashing way back to 1813, prolific novelist Maria Edgeworth (1768-1849) penned a children’s book titled Harry and Lucy. In it, they marvel at the power of steam bursting through a kettle spout, comparing it to the magic of Aladdin’s Lamp. Not only did Edgeworth foresee the era of the steam-powered engine, she may have foretold “Here’s Lucy” as well!

Do You Live in a Barn? His arm in a sling, carrying an umbrella, and taking off his hat, Gale Gordon is unable to properly shut the front door, despite the fact it is pouring rain outside. Lucille Ball’s eyes dart over at it, doubtless wondering if she had time to close it without spoiling the take. She doesn’t - and it stays open for the rest of the scene.

Where the Floor Ends! When the hole in the ceiling breaks open, the camera is back too far and viewers can see where the carpet ends and the stage floor begins.

Sitcom Logic Alert! Only Lucy would find a miraculous lamp that grants wishes and hide it in a trash can in order to go on a shopping trip for discount sweaters!

“Lucy and Aladdin’s Lamp” rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

A fun episode that straddles the reality / fantasy line effectively. The Easter eggs in the garage sale scene are a treat for Lucy lovers!

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askaphmaine · 7 years

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“With that, that’s the end of the meeting. I hope everyone will be prepared for next time. We have a lot more to talk about.” With that statement from D.C., another long capital meeting was over. Monty groaned, shoving his ‘paperwork’ and ‘notes’ into his bag. Most of the papers were simply scribbled on, so he would appear as if he cared. A couple had drawings, simple pencil sketches of what had been happening, D.C. yelling at everyone to shut up, Concord making and throwing paper airplanes, Augusta pointedly avoiding everyone by hiding under the table, anything interesting.

“Oh, Montpelier~!”

‘Ah, shit.’ Just the person he didn’t want to see. He liked Los Angeles, he really did. She was stunning, with dark golden hair curling around her shoulders and deep blue eyes, not unlike a lake or the ocean. The problem was her flirting. She seemed to enjoy his discomfort, taking every opportunity to jump on him, occasionally even kissing his cheek. While some may have enjoyed the attention, for someone used to four wheeling and mudding, it was overkill to an extreme. The worst part, though, was her comments.

“You know, you’d look so much nicer in a suit! Or anything out of that disgusting plaid. You should let me take you shopping!” Like that one. He couldn’t understand how she thought those kind of comments were okay. He liked his shirt, it had been a gift from his brother. Sure, it was a bit worn but it fit fine and was warm. And he would never wear a suit. Never. “U-um, Montpeli-?”

Maybe storming off wasn’t his best idea. Maybe flipping L.A. the bird wasn’t either. Regardless, Monty didn’t stick around to see the aftermath of his actions. He had soda to drink and cars to work on. He didn’t have time to deal with western drama. Sadly, it seemed to be finding its way to him.

“Okay, I get it. She pissed you off. But you and I both know she didn’t mean it like that, asshole. Now I’m getting dragged into your lovers-spat.” Concord hissed, glaring at the other capital. Montpelier stayed under the truck, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a damn lovers-spat. Just toss me my fucking wrench and shut it, dude. She’s old enough to deal with the consequences.” A dull thud hit the area to the left of Monty’s head. “Thank you.” A sigh followed.

“Alright, listen. I understand she gets on your nerves. I really do. But you literally made her cry. Maybe you should explain what pissed you off so much. It might make things-” Loud clanging interrupted Concord’s nagging. Monty slid out from his work.

“Explain? EXPLAIN? YOU DON’T THINK I’VE TRIED? SHE LITERALLY IGNORES ME.”

“Dude, stop yellin-”

“NO! SHE ACTS ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY JUST BECAUSE SHE’S BASICALLY RICH AND THINKS SHE CAN WALTZ INTO MY LIFE AND COMMAND ME TO CHANGE? SHE DOESN’T WANT ME, SHE WANTS A LITTLE BOY TOY SHE CAN ABANDON ONCE SHE GETS BORED.”

“You’re crying.”

“Fuck.” A soft sob. “Off.”

“Yeah, no can do. Like it or not, you’re part of Northern New England. You’re stuck with me.” Concord wrapped an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “We’re family, like it or not. I know she doesn’t listen. But here’s my plan, okay? Trust me, it’s a doozy.”

::A couple days later::

Silence. Never had L.A. felt more uncomfortable. Monty was acting odd, showing no emotion. After what had happened, she had begun to think he was avoiding her before she got a text asking for them to meet up. She wasn’t expecting an apology from him at all but she also certainly wasn’t expecting him to be emotionless and cold.

“You need to stop.” Monotone. A small shiver went up her spine. She only ever heard stories about the people who fit this description, the ‘Mainers’ as they were called. They were only a state away from him, though...

“Stop...what?” She winced at how small she sounded. She was one of the largest cities in America!

“Acting like a lovesick idiot. Grabbing me. Kissing my cheeks. The flirting and the attempts to command me need to stop.” Com…mand? She could understand the ‘lovesick’ part but when had she ever tried to… Oh. Slowly everything clicked. Her comments on his clothing and his pastimes. He felt like she was trying to control him.

“I’m...sorry. I never meant...Nevermind. I’ll stop. I swear on everything I own, I’ll stop.”

::Later::

“Connor, you’re a genius. How did you know acting like those three would work?”

“I’ve spent enough time with the Mainers to know it’s an act and how they manage to do it. All it takes is some practice. I am glad to hear that it worked!”

“Yeah, she promised on everything she owns that she’d stop. I don’t think I’ve been this relieved in ages!” Monty’s grin widened. “It’s like a weight has been lifted!”

“I’m glad for you. I really am. Now, where were we on the truck?”

::Elsewhere::

“Um, hey, Izzy? Can we, like, talk?” Braids swayed slightly as the capital of California glanced up.

“Sure, Liz. How did the talk with Montpelier go?”

“See, that’s the problem.”

“…I see. Well tell me all about it.”

“For starters, you know the stories of the Maine Trio Allison will tell us?” A nod. “Well, that’s how he was acting. Cold, emotionless, distant, you name it. He fit the tale perfectly.” Sacramento gasped. Montpelier had never acted like that before. “Exactly. But that’s not the real problem. He thought I was being…controlling. I didn’t mean to be but you know. I guess I came across as someone trying to change him and he didn’t take it well. Problem is, I have no idea how else to talk to him? But then I had an idea!”

“Oh no. Lizzy, please tell me you’re not thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Please?”

::Another time skip because I am the worst::

Normally, Monty was left alone outside of meetings and his fellow New Englanders. He had woken up as normal, ate breakfast, the entire works, all without interruption, even from his older brother. His pajamas, a t-shirt and plaid sleep pants, got to stay on for once. Normally he had to be ready for anything with Liam and that included being dressed and ready for a hike.

Then he heard the doorbell. No one, not even his ‘family’ visited this early. They all had things to do and they all understood that the Vermont Mounties did not like dealing with anyone besides each other before noon. A glance at the stove clock told him it was only 8 am, four hours before the barrier was lifted. There were only three options. One was that Liam got locked out and was either drunk or hungover. The second was an emergency. Third, some flatlander was annoying him. Monty didn’t even want to think it was the third.

The world loved proving him wrong. Apparently, either karma or fate hated him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took in the sight before him. L.A. in a ponytail was cute, sure. But the muddy jean cut-off shorts, torn plaid-like shirt, and baseball cap 3 sizes too big really didn’t suit her. He didn’t even have the energy to produce the ‘Mainer’ personality. Hell, he didn’t even have the energy to listen as she tried speaking about trucks. Something about…mud driving? He held the bridge of his nose, leaning on the doorframe.

“L.A. stop. It’s 8 in the morning.” Silence. “I’m too tired for this whole ‘interaction’ thing and would really prefer to just eat my breakfast in peace.”

“Oh…sorry. I guess I must be annoying, huh.” He felt a sigh escape. She sounded so sad. Why did she have to act like this? As cute as it was, she looked incredibly awkward, tugging on the odd clothing.

“Listen, no one, and I mean no one, is allowed to visit Vermont and I until 12pm.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“If you annoy me, I’m kicking you out. No second chances.” A soft ‘huh?’ floated to his ears. “Look, you’re lucky it’s fall. It may not get cold in your part of the country but here? You’ll freeze in that. I also doubt you’ve eaten. Not to mention you look ready to burn that outfit. Just get inside, you can borrow some of my clothes. They may be big, but at least they’re clean. And actually cover you.” He shoved himself up, not even glancing behind him to see if she was following. The door closed, though he didn’t hear any footsteps. “Just take your shoes off and follow me.”

Silently, she listened, much to his shock. He had to admit, he was expecting resistance. It didn’t really hit him what was happening until he was standing in his room, looking for clothes. “You’ll have to wear some sweatpants, nothing else I own will fit you. Any complaints?” He questioned, glancing at her. A shake of the head. “Good. Here, try these.” With that, he tossed her a pair of gray sweats, a black shirt, and a plaid button up. “You’ll want to wear all of it. It’s cold.” Monty didn’t hang around, vanishing downstairs to the kitchen. It took a couple of minutes for L.A. to reappear, keeping her head down. Monty was a bit pleased she kept the ponytail.

“I’m sorry for showing up and making you feel like you had to help me.” He felt himself groan.

“Listen, just sit. This batch will be done soon. And trust me, someone showing up at my door first thing in the morning does not make me want to help them.” He could hear the sharp intake. “Alright, I don’t have the energy for the ‘Maine’ thing, so just listen. I get you’re trying to connect with me for whatever reason. I’m not that dumb. While you may have gone about it in an awful way-“

“I should’ve listened to Izzy…” He paused at the whisper.

“I have no clue who ‘Izzy’ is but yeah. You really should’ve. Not that it was offensive. Just obnoxious. Do you remember what my point was during our meeting?”

“You felt like I was trying to control you. I promised I’d stop but here I am…”

“Yea- What?” Confused, Monty turned, setting a plate in front of the blonde.

“Was I…wrong?”

“Uh, yeah? I never said anything about control. I said you were- oh.” Silence. Slowly, he sat across from her, staring at his plate. Placing his elbows on either side, he dropped his face into his hands. Here he thought it was over. “I didn’t mean you were controlling me. Trust me, Vermont tries to all the time.”

“Then what was I doing?” The almost begging tone nearly got him to lift his head. Nearly.

“You were trying to change me. Even if you didn’t mean to, you were. I’m not a suit and tie kind of person. I’m not into fashion, I actually couldn’t care less. Vermont and I are outdoorsy guys who wear a lot of plaid. We go mudding- wait, is that what you meant by mud driving?” He looked up, shaking his head. He pressed him palms into his cheeks. “Never mind. We go mudding, hiking, and hunting. I fix cars and trucks for fun. I’m not someone like what you’re used to, L.A.” For the first time, he looked her right in the eyes. “I’m not a toy you can dress up. I’m not interested.”

“Can…Can I speak?”

“Sure.”

“I never…I never meant to come across like that. My comments, though out of line, were meant to mean that you’d look great in one of those outfits. I never thought of forcing you to wear any. I never…” With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Monty blinked. He hadn’t realized he had been staring. “I never saw you as some sort of ‘toy’. In fact, you remind me of Izzy and Nathan- I mean, Sacramento and Northern California. I guess I got caught up thinking you’d react to the comments the same way they do. But they grew up with SoCal and I. They’re used to it and know we don’t really mean it. I’m very sorry for coming across that way.” She slowly opened her eyes, keeping her head down. For a couple of minutes, the two of them sat there, L.A. picking at the pancakes and Monty watching her.

“Alright. And the lovesick attitude? I doubt you treat your family that way.” If anyone asked, both would swear to the grave that L.A. didn’t blush. L.A. to keep her image. Monty to keep the ability to see it to himself. The stuttering only helped further the redness. “I see. Well, it should be noted that I hated the outfit you wore here.”

“I, uh, kinda figured…”

“Good, so let me make one think clear. Changing someone for someone else is stupid. And that ‘someone’ includes yourself. So, we both know you know nothing about trucks, mudding, ect. What do you enjoy? Besides fashion, I mean.”

“Well, I can, like, surf. Even in heels.”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere. That’s an actually interesting fact. What about movie-“

“I am literally Hollywood. I know all the easter eggs, the classics, everything.” She scooted closer, a gleam in her eyes. Monty smirked.

“Oh? Well, then we have something in common. I just so happen to have a movie collection. Shall we pick through it?”

“You. Are. On.” Lizzy practically launched herself from the chair, food all but forgotten. Monty chuckled, grabbing both plates. Might as well eat as they watch, right? “Oh, and Montpeli-“

“Just call me Monty.”

“Alright, Monty. I just wanted to tell you to call me Lizzy.”

“Deal.”

“Dude, you have BeetleJuice? Guess what we’re watching first!”

“I mean, it was filmed here in Vermont. We have a system. ‘Filmed in A New England State’, ‘Takes Place in a New England State’, and ‘Other’. 13 different groups, some overlap. Maine’s are best viewed around Halloween.”

“Oh, please. Carrie is a classic and is perfect for viewing year round. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”

Hours later, Liam staggered up the steps to his home. He wasn’t drunk but he was tired. The trip to Mass left him exhausted. Dealing with Mass left him exhausted. Opening the door, he faintly heard the sounds of a movie. It sounded like the selection screen, though he had to doubt this. There was no way Monty would just leave a movie running, not even for food. Slowly, he crept towards the entrance to the shared living room. Sneaking a glance in, he saw a lump under a blanket, larger than his brother would be. Carefully moving closer, he took note of all the food bowls scattered around. Once he reached the sofa, he saw something he knew he’d hold over Monty for a while. Curled up, fast asleep, was Monty and a girl. But not any girl, oh no. Los Angeles herself was curled up on his chest, slumbering peacefully. ‘My little brother, off falling in love with a westerner.’ Liam thought, leaning over to pull the blanket up further. It was going to be a cold night. A smile found its way onto Liam’s lips as he glanced down at the two. Tugging at Monty’s was a soft smile of his own.

#aph los angeles #aph Montpelier #fanfic post #wow this got LONG #warning this is 6 pages on google docs #at 12 point font normal spacing #aph montpelier #lospelier

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5hfanfiction · 8 years

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Too Close To Home - Chapter 10

“Remember the last time we went here?” Lauren quirks up as we finish eating.

“Hmm.. When?"

"Years ago..” She says, taking a deep nervous breath before continuing, “This might sound weird, considering everything that happened between us the past few years, but um, this was where I actually fell for you.” I choke on my food at the sudden shift of conversation.

“Huh?” I ask uncomfortably as I cough. I’m not fond of what we’re talking right now but I’m too curious to let it go.

“Well, um.. I just broke up with Luis and I was down the whole day. I wasn’t talking to any of the girls or you. You girls knew something was wrong but none of you guys knew what happened. They tried to make me tell them what happened but not you, you didn’t push me. You just came to my room and basically dragged me here, holding my hand tightly, as if it was the most valuable thing you’ve held - as if I was precious. It was a friendly gesture and we always did it back then, but since there was no Luis anymore, I kind of saw you in a different light. I felt safe under your touch. I didn’t understand at first, I thought it was because you were always there that blinded me to think that I liked you romantically. We stayed here the whole day making corny jokes and just talk until we got yelled by the management because we had an interview at that time. We were 2 hours late and you took the bullet for me, saying that it was you who forced me to go out with you. You got scolded more than me but you took it. You were trying to save me just like you would always do. When I asked you if you were okay, you just smiled at me and said, "With the smile you were wearing, it was worth it, it always will be.” Ever since that day, how I felt for you just blossomed into something I will never regret, so I’m sorry that I said I regretted it last year. I never regretted anything I did with you, I was just hurt by all your assumptions to the point that I wanted to hurt you too.“

"It’s okay, I understand.” I say softly, overwhelmed. If this was where she fell for me, why did she bring me here now? I look back to the memory, recalling everything that happened that day. It was true, every threats the management thrown at me that time was worth it.

She was worth it.

But I don’t get why she’s telling me this. All of the memories between Lauren and I were a reminder of what we had - and eventually lost. Yes, it caused a lot of heart leaps, but it also brought constant heart aches towards the end.

But even if I was confused, I couldn’t stop the feeling of my heart swelling. I thought I moved on, what the hell is this?

“Not to mention, all the food that fell off the table. Remember the waitress’s face every time you make a mess,” Lauren continues, making me laugh. She’s trying to change the topic of the conversation. She must’ve felt nostalgic too.

It’s funny though, people think she’s this open girl who would talk about anything shamelessly. But I know she doesn’t like talking about anything personal. She hates talking about her feelings so she sort of divert anything that is remotely close to the topic by talking about politics. So it’s a pleasant surprise that she’s talking about it right now.

We talk for a bit more after that, joking around about our past, reminding me of how much fun we had before the storm took over. As much as I want to say that Lauren’s wrong, I can’t.. I kind of miss her too.

As we talk, I can’t help but notice how her eyes are dancing with happiness as we converse. Her lips tugged to a huge smile, lifting her cheeks up cutely, the crinkle on the tips of here eyes prominent from the smile. She looks so cute and sexy at the same time, how is that possible? Her eyes are boring into mine, making my heart speed up twice as fast. The butterflies flapping hard and fast around my stomach, my throat dry simply from her beauty.

Everytime I talk, her eyes would intensely look at me, seemingly catching every word that comes out of my mouth with her eyes itself, like she wants to take in every detail of this very moment.

“Where do you wanna go after this?” she says, waking me from my daze.

“How about the mall?”

“The mall? Seriously Camz?” the nickname flows effortlessly out of her mouth before continuing, “What are we? 12?”

“Hey. you asked me, I’m just suggesting.”

“Sounds boring, how about..” she drags out, looking on the ceiling with her finger tapping on her chin, “okay, how about we get you a tattoo?”

“A tattoo? I’m sorry Lo, but I think you forgot who I am… I don’t do tattoos.”

“But last two years ago, you said you would get a tattoo,” she says catching me red handedly. How does she remember all this? This was after we broke up and before I left the group. I didn’t think she was interested in what I was saying during those sound checks, she seemed… indifferent.

“That was a long time ago… Besides, I’m too much of a chicken actually go through with it.”

“Thanks to your awesome badass of a friend, you’re doing it,” she says cockily, standing up and dragging me to walk with her.

“But-”

“No buts Camila… Though, you do have a big butt,” she says while stopping, leaning back to shamelessly check out my ass.

Redness crawled to my cheeks, making my face look like a tomato. Is she flirting with me?

We walk out before I realized that we haven’t even paid for our meal. I look at Lauren and again, with our odd connection, she seems to know what I was thinking about as she says, “Don’t worry about it, I paid them already beforehand. I knew you would fight against me to pay if I didn’t. You should really let me spend on you. It is your birthday after all.”

I look at her, surprised. We seem to really have the same wavelength, or at least that’s what Normani said.

I didn’t really believe in soulmates at first, but when I first saw her, I couldn’t help but feel like a whole. But now that I ponder into it, I shake the thought of soulmates immediately. Lauren already has her soulmate, Lucy. How can you be a whole with a person who already found her other half?

She walks next to me to the passenger’s side and open the door for me to go in. She closes them softly after I’m buckled and walk around the car to go in herself. Even small gestures like that could make me lightheaded and she doesn’t even know that.

My palms sweat excessively while looking out the window as she drives again. I couldn’t look at her, knowing that if I do, I would probably faint. God, I sound like a teenager on a date for the first time.

“So.. what tattoo are you gonna get?” she questions.

“Are you seriously gonna force me to get a tattoo?” I ask back, deflecting from her question. I actually already thought of a tattoo, I just don’t want to tell her yet.

“I’m not forcing you.. I know you want this. I’m just…” she looks for a word to explain, “pushing you to do it. You wanted a tattoo since forever, you almost got a tattoo when I had my dragonfly one. You just chickened out after you saw how read my neck was. I thought you were serious about not getting one, but then, during one of the 7/27 soundcheck, you mentioned it again, so you probably really want them.”

“Urgh, don’t remind me.. Seriously Lo, your neck was so red and you know how fragile necks are right?”

“Yeah, but it was definitely worth it. I now have a sexy dragonfly printed on me. Pretty cool…”

“I don’t know if you could call dragonflies sexy, but sure.”

She just chuckles before asking again, “So you want to this or…”

“Yeah, alright.” I say with a sigh, finally giving in.

“Good, cause we’re here,” she says easily, rounding around the corner to park .

“WHAT?!” I shout in the small space, making my voice obnoxiously louder than intended. I thought that I could at least have another 30 minutes to wrap around the idea of getting inks on my body.

“Ow…” she says, covering her right ear while she parks in front of a building of an.. apartment? “But yeah, lets go.”

She climbs out of the car to round to my door to open them while playfully say, “There you are, my pink princess.”

I stay in my spot while I look at her standing straight, imitating a butler. I can’t do it at such short notice, I haven’t even asked my mom. And this doesn’t look like a tattoo parlor.

“We’re not doing yours in a tattoo parlor. I have a buddy of mine who can do them better,” She says.

“Stop reading my mind, you perv. Don’t you have to at least call him or something to notify that we’re coming?”

“Oh.. he knows we’re coming. I texted him like a week ago.”

I look at her, dumbfounded. “Are you saying you made an appointment with him a week prior before I actually agreed on it?”

“Yup,” she says, making a cute pop at the end, smiling cheekily at me. She tugs at my hand to make me stand and close the door after I reluctantly comply.

We walk towards the lobby and step into the elevator without a word. She’s basically jumping up and down like a kid, excited while I just chew on my bottom lip. Just yesterday, I was thinking of which episode of Steven Universe to watch on my birthday and now… I’m getting a tattoo, it’s definitely a 180 from what I anticipated.

I’m not daring. This is all Lauren, she always does this and I accept them with open arms. From watching horror movies to skinny dipping, she always seem to trigger that weak spot inside me where I would do anything to appease her. Not that I’m complaining though, the horror movies just gave me a green light to hold onto her tightly and the skinny dipping.. well.. I get to see her naked. Besides, she gives me courage to do those things, because never in a million years would I have done them without her - except maybe the horror movie.. But Austin kind of forced me to watch them by not telling me beforehand so that doesn’t really count.

So here I am, on my way to get a tattoo with the girl I once dated.

The elevator dings suddenly, waking me from my trance. She tugs at my wrist and walks out to the hallway.

14-29, 14-30, 14-31, 14-32…

She stops at 14-32 while I look at her incredulously while she just laughs, “I know…”

She knocks on the door and we hear shuffling noises on the other side of the door before a guy with tattoos all over his body opens up the door, immediately hug Lauren while Lauren releases my wrist to reciprocate the friendly gesture, making my wrist burn from the loss of contact.

The hug lasted for a few seconds while I shuffle awkwardly, not knowing where I stand.

He releases her hold on Lauren and looks at me before saying, “You’re Camila, Im guessing?”

“The one and only.”

“Alrighty then, come in and make yourself at home while I set things up.”

Lauren and I walk in and sit next to each other on the black leather couch placed in the living room. The place looks relatively clean and tidy. The walls and the floors were white while the furnitures gave a contrast of black, making the apartment look modern.

In the corner of the room near the window sits a chair that looks like a place I’m going to die at while he drills on my skin. I shiver at that thought as it doesn’t sound appealing considering that I am going to have to do it. I can’t chicken out now that we’re here.

Think happy thoughts Camila.

Bananas… Unicorns… Dragons…

Lauren looks at me worriedly, probably because I look like I’m constipating and high-keyly freaking out.

She holds my hand and entangle her fingers through mine to divert my attention from tattoos. It works, but now I’m just freaking out that LAUREN JAUREGUI is holding my hand.

“Alright, we’re all set.”

Lauren stands up and tries to release my hand but I just tighten my hold. She gets the message and just pulls me to the death chair instead.

I sit down reluctantly while she pulls a chair for her to sit beside me, across from the guy.

“So where do you want it?” He asks suddenly, catching my attention.

“Umm, probably just on my arm.”

“Alright, do you know what you want?”

“Um, yeah,” I say while Lauren looks at me expectantly. I take my phone out from my back pocket and shows him the picture. Lauren tries to get a glimpse of it but I turn it further away from her and eventually give my phone to him at the end, making her groan in frustration. I look at her looking at me while I laugh. But deep down, I’m a bit worried because the idea of it permanently inked on my arm sounds a bit terrifying, especially if Lauren hates it.

“You guys make a cute couple,” he says, snapping us from our staring contest.

“Oh no, we’re not together,” Lauren laughs awkwardly.

Obviously the guy doesn’t catch the silent plead of ‘SHUT UP’ as he continues, “Really? I beg to differ. And if I recall correctly, the last tattoo you did, you mentioned how you were in love with a girl named Camila.”

Her cheeks grows to an apparent shade of red while I smirk. Shy Lauren is my favorite Lauren.

“Really now?” I say with a raised eyebrow at Lauren.

She clears her throat and looks at her tattoo friend, “Yeah, we were, umm, together.”

“Oh,” he says awkwardly now, “nice.. not everyone can still be friends with their exes.. And from the looks of it,” he points at our intertwined hands, “you guys seem pretty close.”

“When did she get her tattoo with you? I accompanied her when she tattooed her arm and neck,” I ask out loud.

“August 2016, below her boobs,” he says nonchalantly.

I don’t get it. We broke up on March and the rumors of Lucy and Lauren being together were increasing at that time. And from what I heard from Dinah, she was together with Lucy by then. Was she still in love with me when she was first dating Lucy? Is she still in love with me now?

“Okay, do you wanna start now?” he asks politely, waking me from yet another train of thoughts.

“Sure.. yeah,” I say, still uncertain because of the idea of getting a permanent tattoo, a hurtful one at that.

“Alright, I’m just going to apply a little bit of alcohol on your, um, left or right?”

“Left”

“Left arm.” He dips a bit of alcohol on a clean cloth and starts dipping them on my arm, making me finch.

Lauren laughs, “Really Camz? He hasn’t even started yet.”

“Shut up. And don’t look.”

“What?”

“Don’t look,” I repeat.

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, umm, okay,” she says, again attempting to retract her hand, only to be crushed by my hand again. “Oww, how do you expect me not to look when I can’t move to sit somewhere else?”

“Stay.”

“But, where do I look then?”

“Close your eyes, you don’t really have to look.”

“Are you joking?” She asks incredulously.

“Nope,” I say. She just sighs and starts to close her eyes.

“Lo..” I speak out once more.

“Yeah?”

“Open your eyes, I’m too scared..”

“Oh my God, you’re so hot and cold,” she huffs but still opens her eyes. (A/N: WHIPPED)

“Just look at me,” I whisper cockily as she focus her eyes on mine. Despite the playful tone, the mood shifts into something else now. Her eyes seem more brighter now, the room was lid by the sun shining through the huge window in front of her. The black pupil looks so small, making her green irises seem bigger than usual.

That’s when I hear a small buzzing sound that soon touches my wrist. I flinch and try to look at my arm but Lauren’s hand that isn’t intertwined with mine reaches my chin to stop me from looking down.

“Don’t, it’ll hurt more if you look at it.”

Out of sight, out of mind, I think.

So I obey and we just lock our eyes. My hand feels uncomfortable and my arm hurts a bit, but not as much I thought it would. I thought that it would be like a knife cutting my skin on my arm or something. Maybe Lauren’s mesmerizing eyes are just the perfect distraction.

I get to have a tattoo finally and get to stare at Lauren for as long as possible.

Until her phone rings, that is.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and looks at her phone. I caught a glimpse of the name across her screen - Lucy. She just switches off her phone and looks back at me.

“Trouble in paradise?” I ask in the most friendly way possible.

“What? Oh no, I’ll just call her back later, it’s too loud here.”

“You can call her outside if you want,” I suggest nicely, although I selfishly hope her to reject the idea.

“Nahh.. Whose hand will you crush if I’m not here,” she says jokingly before continuing, “I’ll just call her back later.. I’m sure it’s not as important as this.”

“Right,” I say, not wanting to dwell on it more, it is her relationship after all.

The tattoo guy just smirks knowingly.

#UPDATE #series #non AU #camren #romance fluff #submission #Too Close To Home

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violetbeachpod · 6 years

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transcript: 11 - honeymoon phase

listen here

ROBIN:

Hey, everybody, uh. Robin here. Back at it again! Woo!

So. Personal updates. I got married. You were there, it was great, I have a wife now, it’s cool, it’s good. Uh. The cat is okay! He hurt his leg but he’s got a little cast, which is—very cute. It’s very cute and good and I want all of you to acknowledge that. I was away for a little bit, we went up to my dads’ place in Maine for the honeymoon, for, uh, isolation and distance from the weirder stuff in life, and what have you, so I haven’t actually listened to any of you folks’ tapes, except for, uh, Mae’s and Teresa’s? Sorry. Probably should’ve, uh. Done that. But I’m trying to maintain this good mood, and, uh, don’t wanna bum myself out. Not that you guys bum me out—you are. So wonderful. I care about you, I worry about you, but, uh. This whole—thing is scary as hell. Were that not clear.

But, I mean, I have updates. I don’t want to share them, because if my recollection is right, this is usually about when the happy lesbian starts dying, and, uh—that’s because of, like media traditions from the olden times, but, look, I don’t want to risk anything. I’m sharing because I feel obligated to. So. Hi. It’s me.

This is our calm before the storm, I think. Which shouldn’t feel as comforting as it does--it is the security of a basement right before a hurricane. Before, see, because your basement doesn’t feel safe during the storm itself. It feels like you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die and flood and--

But beforehand, you’re going over every single disaster movie you’ve ever seen, every safety PSA from when you were a kid, and you feel secure. And there’s something to be said about the contrast of comfort and fear; that even the slightest illusion of comfort is bliss in comparison to terror.

But, look. Listen. Metaphors and similes aside, something is about to happen. We all know this. We’re seeing a dip down in Weird Shit T-M, but we’re on edge for a reason.

And I know this, because I got a message yesterday. An email. Not from—none of you would pull this, basically. I got an email, and the address was—blurred out. Like, I hovered and everything, and I just—couldn’t read it.

And it just said, uh. It literally said SOMETHING’S COMING, in all caps. I don’t know why it got sent to me, or anything, but, uh. That sort of proves that something is coming, right? Because, uh, it’s right there. All caps, bolded, italicized, underlined. Not struck through, so, bam, that—

Also, the text is in red, and there’s one of those email platform exclusive emojis of a sun wearing sunglasses. So. Summer? Is when things are coming? Maybe? Who’s to say.

It’s, what, April—twenty-second? Yeah. That’s today. April twenty-second, one-oh-seven PM. So. Summer starts on June twenty-something-th. The twenty-first? Or. Second. Whichever. So I think, like, that’s when it’s gonna hit the fan. Solstices, and all. They’re important. Symbolically, temporally, and hey, if we’re not judging things symbolically and temporally first, what have we been doing in these last five months?

Do people still say that? Shit hits the fan? I haven’t heard it in years, but, uh, I’m not really good at paying attention to that sort of thing. Which is bad, considering, but.

You know.

Here’s what I know.

Something’s coming. We don’t know when, but we have guesses. I’m—I’m.

I’m not sure what to think. I’m not—afraid, but I’m definitely not comforted, either. Maybe anxious is the best word, but it still feels off.

Concerned? No, too emotional.

But something’s coming, and it’s not gonna be good.

Also, the email’s subject was “Just Checking In!!!!!!!!!!!?” with, like, twelve exclamation points and then a question mark. So that’s why I clicked. I don’t think it’s spam.

Uh. Ran into an old friend the other day! Well. Middle school bully turned high school acquaintance. Johnny Parsons? He goes by Jack now, because he started to think that the Johnny Carson thing was annoying. Which it was. But. Whatever. I don’t know why I’m calling him a friend. He was kind of terrible to me, and, like, he stopped but never made the time to apologize, so. Whatever. We weren’t close, during high school, but he was slightly more decent.

But I ran into him the other day. He, uh, said he saw wedding photos online, and, uh, that he was happy for me. But something about his eyes were off. That’s why I mention this encounter with standard Straight White Dude number four-hundred and twenty—that wasn’t intended to—whatever, but—like, you know the type. When I ran into him, this man, who was wearing the whole salmon-shorts-blue-button-up-boat-shoes number, which I didn’t even know had found its way into this town, but he—halfway through our greetings, he just—

Left. He was gone. Like, his body was still there, but it’s like when we found Teresa. Like—

So, he was different, for a moment. Eyes all dilated, glassy. And then, he was back. Pupils back to normal in a flash—like, a literal flash. And the conversation continued, like it was nothing. He didn’t say anything of it, so I didn’t comment. Don’t want to drag in that dude to our weird mystery adventures.

It wasn’t zoning out, before you ask. It was—Look, I know zoning out. It’s—basically what I do, lately. He was totally focused, which was—weird, for him. We had, like, one bonding moment, in high school, and it was when we both just completely blanked on all of the instructions at our ACT prep class and we were assigned to be partners.

But he was focused, and then a flash, and he was out, and then another, and he was back in it.

Weird, right?

That’s the ending to everything any of us say to each other, now. Weird, right, weird, right, weird, right. Ugh! I’m so sick of it, it’s so overplayed. None of us even like overplayed. We all try and push ourselves away from overplayed. Hating cliche is the glue that holds this group together.

Like, we’re gonna argue about what’s weird. Like, okay, so, whatever, everything’s weird. Everything that has happened to us in the past four months is weird! It’s beyond weird, and I am so sick of using that adjective!

We need a better word! I am so sick of just using the word weird and expecting it to be effective.

Semantics are weird.

Right?

That was—I’m kinda proud of that joke. I liked it a lot. I came up with it on the spot, and—It’s genuinely fun. I think.

Here are some suggestions for better words than weird. I’m pullin’ up the old thesaurus in my brain that I used to write bad poetry in high school—I’ve become a bit more Hemingway-esque, since then, but, like, in the brevity way, rather than the sexism thing. But. Here is a list of words that are better than weird. I hope that, for future reference, we can stick to them:

Bizarre. Far-out. Bizarr-o. Freaky. Eerie. Fun and funky. Fresh garbage. As if from a dream. Supernatural. Off color. Eccentric. Offbeat. Outlandish.

Wild and crazy? Out of this world.

Out of this world.

Can we bring that one back? I like it. And I think it suits the situation at hand.

Christ, what am I even doing? I sound like some terrible English teacher. Eugh.

Said is dead, weird is—feared?

Not quite. Let’s check out that rhyming dictionary—

[beat]

Okay, so it’s either feared or disappeared. Neither of which are too exciting, which is a bummer, I think. If there’s no opportunity for a fun rhyming phrase, there’s no need for anything to happen. And that’s just the facts, there. I am a writer. I have a MFA. I know these things. I know them.

Oh. Wow. Cool. Time stopped again.

Sorry, just gotta add that in, so you know Because, hey, it’s still one-oh-seven PM. Love that. That one hasn’t happened in a little bit, for me. Dunno about y’all—again, I have not listened to your tapes, and again, I am genuinely sorry for that. I will when the world is, like, a little less terrible and overwhelming, and also, when I’m not receiving emails from alternative-universe-folks.

Unless you guys are receiving those emails too, and I’m missing that by not listening. I think that stuff goes into the group chat. I didn’t put it in there, though, so, uh. Who’s to say? Not me, certainly. Never me. I don’t know, uh. Anything. Ever. At all.

That’s the nature of humanity, or something like that. Was it Tolstoy who said that? Or Plato?

Ugh. I’ll google it later. It’s just--

Here’s what I know about the nature of humanity, which is just about as much as anybody else.

It’s good. I genuinely believe that. If it wasn’t good, inherently, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I think I’d rot, wilt, shrivel up.

And I’m usually close to wilting, anyway. That heavy weight in my chest makes me feel like wilting.

[music kicks up--a simple beat, synths, drums, piano. at the end of the world, says a muffled vocalist, it’s just you and me. you and me.]

I gave Teresa a haircut last night at three A.M. She knocked on our door and told us that she needed it that moment. Elaine offered, but then I mentioned her junior year high school roommate, whose hair she dyed, and she shut up right there.

We listened to shitty lo-fi hip-hop and it felt right, somehow, that moment. I’ve been--

I’ve been so close to wilting, but in that moment, three-forty-seven A.M., my friend and my wife and her bad music and our cat and a pair of clippers--

In that moment, I think I grew. Not in a--huge, development sense. I didn’t change. I just felt good, y’know? I felt like, for once, the world was okay.

And the weight was gone.

My point is--

My point is that, we have to be good, in spite of the--my brain is saying weird, and I’m refusing it. To each other. I’m not saying we have to, like, elf-on-the-shelf it. That’s weird. We have to be kind--and not just to each other. To these new people too. To salmon-shorts Jack’s alternate universe self. To Mae. To--to everybody that’s new. This is terrifying for them. We have to--

We have to be kind, we have to make sure that they don’t shrivel up. Because there’s nothing worse than that.

I’m so afraid of shrivelling up.

So, so afraid of it.

Elaine helps. The cat helps. You guys--you all help. I think everybody needs that. I think all of you need that.

If we love each other, and we love everything that we can bring ourselves to love, I think we can overpower the weird--fuck!

Time is moving again. Sometimes, and here’s my theory, just my good ol’ idea: to get time moving again, you have to wax poetic for eight hours, cuz then time gets bored and wants to make that clear to you. If you are pretentious enough about love and life and all of the other big meaningful things that are out there, you can literally control time?

How metal is that?

Do teens still say metal? I am so, so tragically unhip. I hope they do. I like that as a descriptor. I don’t think it’s a good replacement for weird, but I think that we should use it more often.

Okay, okay, so, signing off--yeah, yeah, signing off. Gotta do that. We all do that. I just waxed poetic! I could have used that for signing off, but no. Ugh.

Here’s what comes next:

[static]

[confused]

Here’s what comes next:

[static]

[insistent]

Here’s what comes next.

We need to--

[and the static picks up: long, resonant]

#transcript #season 2 #robin

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