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honeypirate · 4 years ago

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Studying with the boy next door

Sugawara x Y/n fluff

“Hey y/n! We still on for studying later?” The familiar cute boy asked after class ended “of course Suga! Wanna walk home together after practice is over?” you smile at him as you throw your backpack over your shoulder as you both walk out from the class.. He was so handsome and sweet, you always felt lucky to be able to be neighbors with your best friend. “Sure! I’d love that. I’ll meet you after practice right here!” You nod and smile as you get to the door of the girls gym “will do. See you then!” He laughs and ruffles your hair before running off to his own practice

You were a third year wing spiker of the girls volleyball team as well as the ace, which didn’t really mean much considering your team wasn’t the best. Not a lot of the girls were as committed to volleyball like you and the captain, most only came to the practice after class. “Let’s work on our receives!” Yui says when all the girls have warmed up properly. After training receives you practice spikes and after that you have a practice game, since you have the right amount of girls here today.

You push yourself harder than usual, covering spaces where some of your team members should have been but didn’t really care enough to get the ball if it was too difficult. You’re exhausted by the time practice is over, you gave everything you had in this practice and your body felt like jello. You couldn’t help but smile knowing this will eventually lead to you being stronger.

Yui pulls you aside after you change into your track suit, “I just want to thank you for always being so invested in this. I really appreciate having someone who sees it like I do” you smile “of course! You’re a great captain Yui.” She blushes a little “I sometimes don’t see it but I appreciate you saying it” you pat her shoulder and notice Suga standing outside through the window. “I gotta go Yui. See you in the morning!” You smile and she nods as you grab your bag and head out.

“Hey Sugawara how was practice?” You say with a smile “it was good! Thanks for asking” he smiles sweetly as you start walking home together. “How was yours y/n?” He asks back and you sigh as you run your hands through your hair “oh you know” you say and laugh “same as always” “same as always meaning you pick up the slack for like four players?” He asks and you nod “basically” you laugh a little sadly “but at least I’m always working hard. I’ll for sure get stronger. Hey maybe if we finish studying early we can just hang out and watch an episode of something” he nods “of course! That sounds good” he loved how optimistic you were, truly optimistic and not fake positive. He smiles at you as you get to your houses “I’m gonna shower and then I’ll come over to your place” you say with a smile and he nods “see you soon y/n!” He says as he heads across the street to his house.

“Hey mom!” You say when walking into your house and kicking off your shoes. “Hey dear how was school?!” She calls back from inside the living room “it was good. Practice was good. I’m gonna study with suga later is that okay?” You take your backpack off and leave it by the bottom of the stairs “yeah that’s fine honey!” She says and you call out a thanks as you run up the stairs to your room.

After a quick hot shower you change into a pair of joggers and a comfy tee, you grab your slippers and head back down stairs. “I’m leaving!” You say and your mom comes out of the kitchen “I’ve packed up some dinner for you and some study snack” she smiles and hands you a bag “thank you so much mom! Love you!” You kiss her cheek then slip on your slippers before grabbing your backpack and going out the door.

Sugawara had made sure his room was clean the night before, it was always clean but now it was clean clean. He ate some dinner with his family before taking a quick shower, changing into grey sweats and a black tee. He made sure he had some water bottles and your favorite candy for when you get here.

“Hey y/n! He’s upstairs in his room. You can go on up” you bow slightly “thank you mrs Sugawara!” You say and smile before walking in and slipping off your shoes by the door. You go up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom you’ve been in hundreds of times. You knock a few times before opening the door “hey suga! Your mom let me in” you say as you close the door behind you “hey y/n! Ready to cram for this test?” You laugh “as ready as I’ll ever be!”

You’re sitting cross legged on the end of his bed and he’s leaning against the wall at the top of his bed with his legs crossed, your books in your laps and papers strewn about. “Hey what did you get for problem 23 on the practice test?” You ask and he ruffles through his papers “uuuhhmmm I got 27.56” he says and you furrow your brow “can you walk me through how you got to that answer?” You say and he nods “of course!” As he begins explaining and helping you you shiver, your wet hair making you colder. He noticed and as he is still explaining he leans over and grabs his sweatshirt from over the chair next to his bed and hands it to you. You blush and smile at him as you slip it over your head and pull it down your body. “Thank you” you say and he nods once with a slight blush on his cheeks “so you just do it like this?” You ask and write out the problem on a piece of paper “yes! Like that. Good job!” He says and you smile, butterflies in your belly.

After an hour or so you’re both laying side by side on your stomachs facing the bottom of the bed, you’re half asleep reading the textbook and your legs and arms are throbbing from practice. “How about we take a break?” He suggests when he notices how exhausted you look “yes please” you say and fold your book pushing it aside, laying your head down on the bed. He laughs and grabs your books and his, setting them on the ground next to his bed. He grabs his headphones and phone “let’s watch an episode of (your all time fav show)” your head pops up and you smile at him “okay!” You say and he lays back down next to you, offering one side of his ear buds to you as he gets the show queued up on his phone.

Halfway through the episode you feel your eyes drooping, you fight to stay awake but you’re not doing a good job. You feel your head get heavy and when it hits his shoulder you sigh at the comfort, a small smile on your lips. You reach over with your right hand and place it on his forearm of his right arm next to you as your eyes get so heavy you can’t hold them open anymore. You couldn’t see him but he was blushing so red, his heart beat so quick in his ears, he couldn’t focus on the show or anything else other than the way your head fell softly to his shoulder and the way you sighed so content. When you grabbed his arm he swore his heart stopped for a second.

When you woke up you felt like you were wrapped in a warm cloud. You were so comfy and content. But then you remembered you were supposed to be studying with Suga and your eyes pop open. He’s asleep, you think to yourself, he’s so sweet and handsome. He’s laying on his side next to you, one arms around you, one arm out that you’re currently using as a pillow. Your hands are between you both clutched to your chest. You study him for a minute, drinking in his features and his deep breaths. The way his hair is falling across his forehead, you reach up and brush it away from his eyes and trail your fingertips down the side of his face before landing on his cheek, your thumb softly brushing side to side.

You smile at him when his eyes open “hi” you say softly and watch as his cheeks turn pink when he realizes how you’re both laying. He smiles and decides to take a chance, his arm around you tightens and he pulls you closer to his chest “hi” he says back and kisses your forehead softly.

Your heart is racing and your cheeks are so red you can feel their warmth, he pulled you as close as he could to him, if you looked up into his eyes your noses would probably touch, if you leaned forward just a bit you could kiss his neck. He smelled like the cologne he always wore, it had a hint of mint that you always loved. You always loved everything about him. “Kōshi” you whispered and tilted your head up, looking into his eyes and brushing your nose against his.

For as long as you could remember you had a crush on the boy next door, from playing together as kids to walking to school together, you loved every memory and every second you got to spend with him. He was kind and caring, he always remembered everything about you and could read you like a book. He knew when you were upset or when you needed space. And the same went for you, you knew everything about him and knew when he needed your company or needed his favorite food or just needed his alone time. You could tell by looking into his eyes how difficult his class was or how hard training has been on him. It felt like this was where your friendship was going to lead but you couldn’t help your inner thoughts telling you that this was a one sided feeling. That he didn’t feel the same and just wanted you guys to remain just friends but now it’s different.

Now he’s holding you against his chest as your noses touch, you wrap one of your legs around his waist in an attempt to bring him closer to you, looking into his eyes and reading his expression. He wanted to hold you for so long, craved to touch you. But he didn’t know how you felt, and he was worried to even bring it up. He wouldn’t ever do anything to ruin the relationship you had. But here you were, in his arms, reciprocating the feelings he’s showing. He can see it in your eyes, how you’re looking at him with so much adoration, how you said his name. “Y/n” he whispers back and his lips press softly to the corner of your mouth.

*knock knock knock* “kōshi? Y/n? Do you know what time it is?” The doorknob turns and you scramble out of his arms, falling to the ground, as his mom opens the door. You sit up and pretend that everything is normal. “Sorry mom we lost track of time studying” Suga says, now sitting on the edge of the bed next to we’re you’re sitting on the ground. You stand and pick up your books shoving them quick into your bag. “Thank you, Kōshi, for helping me study. I’ll surely ace the exam tomorrow!” You smile at him sweetly before bowing to his mom “I apologize for staying so late Mrs. Sugawara. I’ll be going now” she laughs “it’s okay dear. Have a good night” she smiles as you walk past her down the steps. Slipping your slippers on your feet and you pull your phone from your pocket as you leave the house, to send him a text “talk tomorrow?” With a kiss emoji. He sent back a heart and said “definitely”

#sugawara koushi #hq sugawara #sugawara fluff #haikyuu suga x reader #suga x you #sugawara x you #sugawara x reader

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Changes - part six Word count: ±5000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part six: Zoë remains one step in front Dean, which annoys the cocky hunter. As new details about the case unravel, both Winchester brothers find out that the independent woman is not planning to share. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Dean squints when he steps into the light. A clear blue stretches out across the sky, the bright color gradually turning paler as it closes in on the horizon. He’s outside in the parking lot crammed with cars; the desk clerk wasn’t lying when he said he was fully booked. The place doesn’t have a sinister feel to it anymore like it did last night, allowing the hunter to let his guard down on this caffeine-deprived morning. The older Winchester brother needs a fix and he needs it badly. Sam drank all the instant coffee and he refuses to drink that shit from the machine in the lobby.

He expected it to be chilly outside, but the sun feels pleasantly warm. Sam woke him up, turning up the volume of the radio completely during the drum solo of a Guns ‘N Roses song. Not because his little brother likes that particular music, but he does like to watch Dean bolt upward in bed. Payback, because the older Winchester can’t deny that he pulled a similar prank on his brother more than once. Honestly, he’s glad Sammy is starting to mess with him again. It’s been a while since they acted like siblings. The joke was a good wake up call, too, he has to admit, but he still feels hungover: wrecked, tired and in desperate need of a cup of coffee, or several.

Traffic rushes by, most of the cars and trucks entering the city of Rochester. It’s a big town, big enough for people to disappear in without others noticing. For a moment, he thinks of those the shapeshifter already took. Sam found a string of at least three disappearances and that conclusion was drawn from the information he had access to offline while Dean was driving up north. These people could be anywhere. Dead? Probably. Going to die if they don’t find that bastard’s hideout fast? Definitely. But before he can work, he needs food, too. Dunkin’ Donuts, now that would be a treasure in this town.

When he asked Sam where Zoë was, all he got was “out”, followed by, “she’s already getting us lunch” when Dean grabbed his wallet and intended to leave. He went outside anyway, in need of some fresh air. His shoulder is throbbing, shooting daggers through his arm whenever he moves it, but as long as he keeps it still, it’s not too bad. In the bathroom earlier, he did peel the gauze back slightly to check the injury, and he has to admit that he was impressed. He might not be able to stand Zoë, but she did an awesome job removing that bullet and sewing him back together. Plus, the painkillers she offered are a God’s gift.

Slowly, he strolls towards his car. The pitch-black Chevrolet Impala blinks in the sun, chrome glistening. Dean smiles; what a sight for sore eyes. He’s honored to own the car Dad gave him a while back. Not just because she’s such a joy to drive, but because it was Dad’s first car. He kind of owes it to his old man to take good care of her. It’s what he expects him to do; to look after the family. “Hey, Baby,” he greets his Chevy, letting his fingertips glide over the trunk. “Since when have we reached the phase that you call me ‘baby’?”

Dean looks over the top of the Impala and finds Zoë’s Harley parked on the other side, but he can’t spot the owner. When he moves around his car he finds her, laying on her back underneath her bike. “Who says I was talking to you?” Dean returns, leaning against the hood. She crawls from under the Road King and judgmentally observes him for a few seconds, then she grabs a socket wrench and slips back under. “Right, men talk to their cars. I forgot they do that,” she nags.

Dean grins and decides not to respond; it’s still early and he’s not sharp yet. The rhythmical sound of the bolt being turned sounds like music to his ears and he has the sudden urge to pull his tools out of the trunk and get some work done himself. But Baby is fine, she doesn’t need any TLC right now. “What’s wrong with your bike?” Dean asks curiously. “I was in a bit of a hurry last night, probably hit a speed bump. It’s just the gasket, nothing serious,” she explains, keeping her eyes on the exhaust. “And what’s wrong with you?” he rephrases his question. “Excuse me?” Caught off guard, she pauses, but doesn’t make an effort to get out from under her Harley. Dean doesn’t bother to repeat himself. “You heard me.” “There’s nothing wrong with me, Shortbus.” Zoë continues tightening the bolt, faster than she did a moment ago, annoyed about the fact that she doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “Then what is that bandage doing there?” Dean asks smartly. Startled, Zoë sits up and hits her head hard against the chrome outlet of her bike, causing a loud bang. Cursing like a sailor she lands back on the ground. “Ow! Fucking hell!”

She didn’t realize her shirt crawled up. Dean smirks at the string of strong language, but hides his smile when she surfaces from under the bike. Irritated, she pulls down her buttoned shirt to hide the gauze through which a little bit of blood has formed a perfect circle in the shape of a bullet wound. She uncomfortably pretends like neither he nor she saw it and disappears under her Harley again. Dean, of course, isn’t going to let it go. “Did Sam shoot you?” “What?” “Last night he fired two bullets. Did he shoot you?” Dean repeats. The huntress scoffs. “Ha! Your little bro isn’t that fast on the draw.” “I’m not kidding,” he states seriously. “Someone apparently was.”

She gives the bolt one last turn and appears from under the bike, this time without hitting her head. Annoyed, she looks up at him, lightning in her brown eyes. Zoë is nowhere near admitting to him what went down. Shit. How the hell is she gonna talk herself out of this one? “Don’t worry, Sam won’t get the credit,” Zoë comments snarky, as she grabs a dirty cloth and cleans her hands, looking away. “If he didn’t do it, who did?” he interrogates, clearly not accepting a smart answer. “What does it matter? It’s nothing serious,” she mutters, getting up. “It is. You got shot, damn it,” Dean argues. “So did you. How’s that shoulder by the way?” Zoë quickly changes the subject, but Dean is smart enough not to take the bait. “No - no - no,” He shakes his head and grins. “I’m not gonna fall for that one. My shoulder’s fine, thanks, but you’re still answering that question.” She sighs; seems like there’s no way out of this. “It’s not that bad, it was a clean shot,” she assures, still avoiding Dean’s question. “Did you get the bullet out?” Dean asks, almost parental. Zoë narrows her eyes at him. “Of course I got the bullet out.” “Who shot you?” he asks again, slowly this time.

Zoë doesn’t answer and saunters up to him, after which she leans against Dean’s Chevy as well. Her hair, still damp from the shower she took earlier and seems black. Despite the crappy night, her natural tan gives her a healthy appearance. The only thing that gives away that she’s tired, are the slightly visible dark circles under her eyes. When she looks aside, she meets Dean’s gaze, who’s waiting for some kind of response. With a sigh, she gives him an answer. “The shapeshifter.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, needing a moment to analyze her words. He doesn’t know which question he needs to ask first. “You ran into him?”

Zoë averts her gaze, debating her conscience. Should she tell him? She knows he will keep digging until he does, but she could lie, obviously. Oh, what the hell. She might as well give him the whole story. “Yeah, yesterday evening. I had an appointment with a possible next victim, this guy called Cliffer. Turned out the son of a bitch already shed into him,” she explains. “Wait… Cliffer? As in Terry Cliffer?” Dean double checks. She suspiciously tilts her head while looking at him. “Yeah.” “Shit.” He rubs his face, realizing what is going on. “You’re Sharon Evans.” “What? How the hell do you know my alias?” Zoë asks with a tone. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Sam technically did get you shot,” he starts off hesitating. “Beg pardon?!” she cries out, turning towards him, completely stunned. “We rang Cliffer around five yesterday afternoon, to meet up with him,” he admits. She stares at him as the missing links connect. She places a hand on her hips, switching her weight to one leg, radiating her attitude. “Let me guess! FBI?” “Yeah. He asked if Sam was Sharon Evans’s partner. We didn’t realize we were on somebody else’s case,” he admits. “You son of a…”

She swallows down another waterfall of curse words and turns around furiously. That’s why the bastard changed! She didn’t give herself away, those dumbass Winchesters did! It’s a bit of a coincidence that two federal agents call, being on the same case without knowing it. The shapeshifter was tailing Cliffer already, she was suspecting that, but when it learned about the appointments, it changed shape quicker than planned. The fucker knew there was at least one hunter in town. It was on to her! “Fuck!” she exclaims.

Furious, she turns away and walks back and forth between Dean’s car and her bike. Dean just follows her with his eyes, not saying a word. He knows that anything coming out of his mouth will only make her angrier, even if it’s just a smart attempt to lighten the mood. “What time’s that appointment?” “Five-thirty.” “Where?” “A bar. I’m not sure where.” “You don’t know?!” she snaps. “Sam knows. He made the appointment, not me,” he returns. Zoë rolls her eyes and forks her fingers through her hair, staring at the passing traffic for a moment.

“I don’t see why this is a bad thing,” Dean starts off, casually, but she doesn’t take it well. “You don’t see why this is a bad thing? It probably means the real Terry Cliffer is dead!” she hisses, lowering her voice when guests walk out the Motel Six. “You don’t know that. There could be two of them walkin’ around,” Dean argues. “The shifter doesn’t know that we’ve met. That gives us the advantage. It doesn’t know we know.” “What was your major plan then, Hannibal Smith?” she taunts. “I don’t have a plan. Like I said–-” “- Sam’s the geek, I know. God, seems like your folks saved the brains for the second child,” she huffs, turning on her heels as she crosses her arms firmly in front of her chest.

Dean glares at her, offended. Not that she notices, with her back already turned to him. She picks up the tools she used for the repair and puts them back in a small case, resting on the saddle. While she cleans up, Zoë tries to figure out some kind of plan, but if she’s not even sure who Sam actually made that appointment with, then how can she work out a strategy? Big chance that she’ll meet the shifter, but it could very well be Terry, so she can't actually go in guns blazing. Cliffer hasn’t been reported missing yet, even though he has a wife and kids. If he did disappear, they would have called the authorities and Zoë would know about that. Nothing is certain, which makes this job so much more impossible to work.

She stops what she’s doing and stares at the asphalt. Gears are turning in her head as she goes over every scenario. Dean observes her for a moment. “Did you eat?” he asks out of nowhere. “Or have coffee?” “No,” she answers confused; what does that have to do with anything? “Then how the hell can you think properly?” he wonders. She shrugs, only just now realizing that her stomach sounds like there’s a war going on inside. She could certainly go with a good latte macchiato to jumpstart her brain, too. It’s no fun to admit, but Dean has a point. “You’re right. I’m off.” Zoë throws her right leg over her Harley and lands in the black leather saddle. She picks up her old biker jacket from the handlebar and puts it on. “Can I come?” The way Dean asks is like a little boy would, innocent and hopeful, adding ‘pretty please’ with his green eyes without actually pronouncing the words. She chuckles and shakes her head. “Sorry, Dean. I fly solo.” Her engine starts with a satisfying purr instead of the louder sputter it produced earlier. Content, she smiles and puts on her helmet. Dean, on the other hand, looks at her just like that same little boy, disappointed, even though he tries to hide it. Without another word, she turns the throttle and exits the parking lot. Just before she turns on the parallel road to the 52 highway, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk from ear to ear. “Thanks for lunch!” she shouts, overruling the sound of her Harley.

Puzzled Dean watches her drive off. Lunch? What lunch? He feels his pockets, knowing he’s missing something. When the identical roar seems to come closer again; he looks up. The Harley Davidson isn’t exactly coming back, but drives up the ramp going to the city. She heaves her hand victoriously, holding his wallet as she drives by. Dean’s eyes follow her, his jaw dropping to the ground. That dirty little thief! She just stole my wallet! He gapes at Zoë, as she and her Harley merge into busy traffic in the distance. How could she…? When did this…? Stunned, he scoffs. Un-fucking-believable. He, one of the best goddamn hunters in the world, just got pick-pocketed. While shaking his head he turns around and walks back to the lobby, muddling softly. “Son of a bitch.”

An hour later, Zoë slips her key in the lock of room 82 and walks in like she owns the world, a straw coming from her iced latte on-the-go firmly between her lips. “Finally!” Dean complains. He made himself comfortable on the bed with his shoes on the bedspread again, sitting up against the back wall reading a magazine Zoë doesn’t want to know the content of. Sam is behind his laptop, not surprisingly. The older of the brothers smiles happily when he sees the Taco Bell symbol on the paper bags she’s holding. It might have taken her a while to get back, but at least she brought the good stuff.

Without responding to his comment, she throws him back his wallet without Sam noticing, who is occupied by research. Dean catches it with his left hand and answers her victorious grin with an unintelligible mutter. She sets down a small tray with two more coffee containers. “I didn’t know how you guys like your coffee, so I brought you both an Americano,” she says. “Francis over there prefers a half-caf double vanilla latte,” Dean comments, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother, who on his turn glares at him and takes his coffee. As if Dean hasn’t eaten for days, he attacks the burrito, quickly tearing away the paper wrap and taking a big first bite. Zoë isn’t surprised by his manners. Sam, however, can’t help but stare at his brother for a moment and clears his throat, disapprovingly. His sibling doesn’t seem to be bothered at all and lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’. “This is good,” he comments with his mouth full. “Thanks, Zo,” Sam says, after which he also takes a bite of his lunch. “Don’t thank me,” she nods at Dean. “He’s the one who paid.” The younger brother frowns and looks over at Dean for an explanation. Dean and paying the bill? That’s new. He doesn’t need to observe him for long before Dean stops chewing and his facial expression goes blank. Uneasy, he looks away and swallows his bite. Zoë watches him, too, smirking like a cheshire cat. “She - uh,” he pauses, studying his taco for a moment. “She kinda… stole my wallet.” Sam almost chokes on his food and laughs out loud, the action earning a lethal glare. He then continues to look the huntress up and down. “That explains the new jacket.” Dazed, Dean looks up. New jacket? What new jacket? Then he spots the black leather Harley Davidson bomber jacket on Zoë, brand new by the looks of it. “You didn’t,” he reacts, shocked. She grins at him, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, I did.” He grinds his teeth, trying to keep calm. “How much was it?” “Not sure, actually. I didn’t bother to check the price tag when I slipped your card,” she returns, utterly satisfied. For a moment Dean just stares at her, his upper lip nervously twitching. What would that jacket be worth? 400, 500 bucks, maybe? “Oh, don’t be such a cheap jerk about it,” she comments, when she notices his expression, as if he has eaten something spicy yet disgusting. “You have at least a dozen more credit cards hidden in the trunk.” “How the hell would you know that?” Dean snarls at her.

As she takes a bite of her burrito, she looks up, digs deep down in her pocket and tosses him his car keys. While she casually continues with her lunch, Dean stares at the keys in his hand with his mouth agape, trying to figure out how the hell she got those as well. Sam has a hard time keeping a straight face, and who could blame him? There’s no finer entertainment than this: Dean is getting played. “You touched my fuckin’ car?” his brother hisses. “Obviously. I need to borrow this, by the way.” Zoë holds up a demon protection amulet. “Give that back, Zoë,” Sam demands, trying to be strict. “What else did you take?” “Some herbs, nothing expensive,” she admits, carelessly. “You fucking thief. What did you take, Sullivan?” It’s Dean who rises to his feet, holding his hand out to collect the stolen items. Reluctant, Zoë reveals a dried vine of Viburnum from her inner pocket. “Gardener over here -” Dean nods at Sam, “- went through a lot of trouble to get ahold of that dead plant you have there. I’d give it back if I were you.” “No. I need it,” she decides a matter of factly. Sam narrows his eyes at the huntress, trying to read her. Why would she need that herb? He stares at it, two dried out plants tied together with a double shoestring. It only works for one thing… “Not for yourself, I hope?” Sam asks, carefully. “A case I’m working on the side, actually. Can’t find the damn plants anywhere,” she clarifies. “Keep the damn twig, but I want the amulet back. Get your own supplies.” Dean ushers Zoë to hand the item over, which she does with a sigh. He snatching his coffee from the table and returns to the bed without thanking her. In fact, he’s not happy at all that she has been sniffing around in his car. The silence that follows is awkward, even for Zoë, and she decides to change the subject.

“I reckon you updated Sam while I was out?” Dean nods, taking a sip of caffeine. “In detail.” “Let me get this straight.” Sam, seated on one of the chairs by the table, leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The shapeshifter knows you’re a hunter.” “It does, but it didn’t know that at the time of the meeting. It knew one of the callers was out to kill him, but for all it cared, I could have been an FBI agent. The fucker shot me anyway,” she elaborates, finishing her drink and tossing it in the trash. Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What’s your point?” “Her point is that if we go to Beetles Bar, pretending to know nothing, it won’t take any risks. If the shifter shows instead of the real Terry Cliffer, it will try to kill us both,” Sam understands. “You guys are not going in,” Zoë makes clear right away, taking a mental note of the bar’s name that Sam just mentioned.

“So, what then? Lure him out and shoot the bastard?” Dean suggests. “Not until I’m sure it’s the shifter, not Terry,” Zoë replies, as she walks over to the fridge. Two confused faces follow her as she opens the door and looks inside. “You’re not making any sense at all,” Dean returns, puzzled, after which he apparently gives up on the conversation and props his feet up on the bed again. “You might actually have made an appointment with the real Cliffer guy, not with that chameleon. No one would be able to tell, unless you shine a flashlight in his face,” she explains, as she takes out three beers.

Sam looks back at Zoë, who beckons one of the bottles to him, but he rejects it. Dean takes both the beers without hesitation. “You’re serious? You haven’t even been up for two hours,“ Sam scolds at the older Winchester brother, astonished by the both of them. “It’s happy hour somewhere,” Zoë defends, puts the bottle against her mouth and takes a swig, earning a grin from Dean. “Want anything else, Sammy boy? Some juice, or milk perhaps?” she coos cheerily as if talking to a child. Dean snorts, almost choking on his beer, but when Sam shoots daggers at him, he quickly takes another sip.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he warns the huntress, continuing their discussion on the case. “So, there is a possibility that we might actually have a meeting with Terry Cliffer–-” “Okay, stop there for a second. Let me make something very clear: there is no ‘we’.” Zoë leans on the table, her knuckles resting on the surface. Her body language is strictly business all of a sudden; apparently she’s not very happy about Sam and Dean joining in on the case, especially not without her permission. Dean eyes her as he sits up. “You could use our help, Zo.” “Help?” She scoffs. “Thanks to the big ‘help’ you’ve been, I couldn’t finish the case last night!” “That happened, sorry about that. But as long as we’re here, we can offer a hand. Besides, we have an appointment with Cliffer,” Sam argues. “I don’t care. This is my hunt. I’m going to that appointment myself,” she clears up. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s a little past three. She still wants to dig up more information on her guy. The boys better get going. “No, you’re not. That’s our appointment,” Dean bounces back. “Seriously? You really wanna fight me on this?” she returns snappily, pushing herself from the table and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That appointment that you scheduled fucked up my entire case! I was here first and I’m gonna end it!” “Oh, come on. How old are you? Five? Haven’t learned how to share yet?” Dean chuckles with an attitude, adding fuel to the fire.

Before Zoë can counter him, Sam comes between the two hot-blooded hunters. “Knock it off, both of you. It will be easier to catch that shapeshifter with three hunters than with one, Zoë. Why don’t we go there together? You lay low and when we find the shapeshifter, we shoot it. We know he’ll probably be in the bar anyway, either as Terry Cliffer or someone else.” “No,” she decides without any consideration. “I’m gonna deal with this alone and I do not need your help.” “I can see that,” Dean comments, nodding at her abdomen, reminding her of the bullet wound that’s covered by her shirt. “Who’s fault is that again?” she snaps. “I’m gonna say it one more time: I fly solo. I don’t do teamwork, certainly not with you two. End of discussion.”

She takes one last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the table with a loud bang. “Who do you think you are, ordering us around like that with your ‘end of discussion’? Our dad?” Sam bites back, defensive for the first time today. She freezes at the comparison and turns her head. The boys can see the fury burning in her eyes, as if they just lit the fuse of a bomb that’s about to explode. His comment stirred something inside of her they should have left alone. “I am nothing like your father!” she hisses. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean questions, offended. “Exactly what it sounds like, Winchester,” she counters with a tone. “What did he ever do to you? He exorcised that evil son of a bitch that was wearing you to the prom, for fuck’s sake.” Dean gets up and steps towards her, clearly not too happy about the way she’s talking about his father.

Trying to not lose her cool, Zoë chuckles sarcastically, looks away, and places her hands on her waist. “You owe him,” Dean pushes, halting before her. “I do not owe him a fucking thing,” she snarls fiercely, staring him down. Their eyes battle, waiting for the other to look away, but both Dean and Zoë are determined not to be the first. Her anger towards John Winchester radiates from her; the brothers can both feel it. They struck a nerve, that’s for sure. “I want you out,” Zoë declares without even blinking. “And I’m serious.”

Dean's jaw tenses as he grids his teeth. “Fine.” With a sigh, Sam gets up from the bed and grabs his duffel, Dean already on his way out. The younger brother doesn’t feel like leaving her alone on this case, but Zoë clearly isn’t going to change her mind anytime soon. “If you need us-–” “- I won’t,” she immediately intervenes. “If you do, we’re going south.” He leaves a card on the bed. “Don’t bother, Sam. The stubborn bitch won’t call us anyway,” Dean responds, holding the door.

She ignores his words, annoyed by the slightest sting that his bitter voice leaves. In a quick glance, Zoë sees two phone numbers written down on the card, but she doesn’t intend to pick it up. Sam looks over his shoulder, but he isn’t angry with her. His eyes ask her to please reconsider, but all she returns is a cold gaze. The door closes behind them and the brothers walk down the hallway. “Unbelievable,” Dean scoffs. “What a fucking waste of time.” Their footsteps echo through the hall as they pass the front desk. Sam nods at the younger guy who took over for the day when they exit Motel 6, and enters the parking lot. The sun is still shining and shimmers on the cars passing by on the 52 highway, tires rush over the blacktop. Dean halts on the driver’s side of his Impala.

“Where to?” he asks, opening the door to get in. “We’re staying in town,” Sam decides before he sits down in the passenger seat. “What? No! We have better things to do, Sam,” Dean argues, still mad at the huntress. “I know we do, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam admits. Dean sighs. “Here we go again with that feminine intuition shit.” Sam rolls his eyes at him, but doesn’t respond to his words. He can’t understand why, but somehow he has the urge to look out for Zoë, almost like it’s instinct. Unnecessary, of course; she has been fine by herself for four years. Why should today be any different? “Let’s just go. You said something about a possible case in Iowa yesterday? If she can handle this, why bother to stick around if we can hunt something else?” Dean reminds him. “One night. We book a motel, check on her, and if she nails it, we leave. She doesn’t even have to know we’re there,” Sam suggests. “I thought you were determined to find Dad?” Dean looks aside at his brother, waiting for a response. “I still am, but we have no lead, not even a single clue where he is,” Sam points out. “Hey, that’s what I’ve been telling you, but it didn’t stop you from looking. You were the one who was all, ‘I gotta find Dad, it’s the only thing I can think of,’ Dean bounces back, imitating his voice. “And now you’re ditching him for some chick?” “I’m not ditching him for some chick!” Sam denies. “Ah, come on. You like her and you know it,” Dean carries on. “I do not like her, Dean! Jess just died, damnit!” he exclaims.

Dean looks away and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. He knows he went too far, so he keeps quiet and turns the ignition. When he flips the key, the V8 motor under the hood growls, impatiently waiting for Dean to back up and hit the road. “You said it yourself: Dad doesn’t want to be found. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing to spend the night here, unless you have some kind of lead I don’t know about,” Sam suggests. “Fine, whatever. As long as that motel has a bed. I really need to get some sleep.”

He puts his car in reverse and looks in the rearview mirror as he guides her out of the parking spot. The shift of his body causes him to grimace, pain cutting through his shoulder. “Feeling alright?” Sam checks. “Yeah, just tired. I need more painkillers, that’s all,” he mutters. Sam takes out his phone and calls a booking agency he had listed in his contacts earlier. As the call goes through, he sighs. It’s going to be a difficult task to find a room with that poker event in town. He waits for someone to pick up on the other side, meanwhile wondering why Zoë got so worked up about their father. Dean has a point; John saved her from that demon, so how could she possibly despise him? Something must have occurred; maybe she crossed paths with him later on and John did something to upset her. She wouldn’t be the first to cross blades with him, after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name @destielhoneybee @fookinghelljensensthighs @heartsaved @idksupernatural @laphirablack @magssteenkamp

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zen3to5 · 4 years ago

Text

J/H 7-24: ‘Til the Next Goodbye

I suppose I could have worded the author's notes more clearly last time - some of you thought this was over! XD

We're not far from that point - there's only one more script after this. 7-23, 7-24, and 7-25 have been the most heavily rewritten of the episodes since "Ice Shack," which started this all. Original material is where I'm most concerned about matching the tone of the show and the voice of the characters, so here's hoping that comes through.

FF.Net AO3

***

SHOW TITLE INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY It’s a beautiful morning to have breakfast to, and ERIC, DONNA, and HYDE are all in the middle of a fabulous bacon/egg/French toast breakfast at the kitchen table. BOB and KITTY talk by the stovetop, where Kitty has fresh plates of bacon and toast waiting. Eric and Donna have a brochure unfolded between them that they read while they eat. DONNA: Eric, this apartment is even better than the one we were going to get the first time we planned on going away together. Can you believe it? ERIC: (mock doubt) Hmm... I don’t know, Donna – it may be nice, but can it hold up to the mobile home we almost had? Donna gives him an exaggerated “ah.” DONNA: You know, that is a good point. We really should see if there’s anything with bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom all crammed into the size of a minivan. They share a smile and turn back to the brochure. BOB: (to Donna) Well, I’m just happy you’re finally going to college, cupcake. It’s about time you used your potential. You may not end up the president of a company or anything, on account of you’re a gal, but you’ll make one hell of a secretary. DONNA: Dad, I’ll be studying to become a rock journalist. BOB: (shrugs) Either way, we’ll get our money’s worth out of those typewriter lessons you took when you were nine. He grabs a handful of bacon and starts working on it as he exits through the patio door. DONNA: God, just three more days. (to Eric) What’s the first thing you wanna do once we get to Madison? ERIC: You know, I’ve actually been thinking of what I still wanna do here before we leave. I mean, we’re finally getting out, so if there’s anything we still wanna do in Point Place, it’s now or never. Kitty looks up from the French toast. KITTY: Ooh! I have an idea – how about we all spend more time with your mother? Some antique shopping, some macramé classes, and to really top it all off, how about we don’t go off to Madison and leave her all alone? ERIC: Mom, I’m going. I know I’ve said that before – twice – but you know what they say – “third time’s a charm.” Kitty tuts, crosses over with the plate of French toast, and sets it in the center of the kitchen table. KITTY: Oh, honey, I’m just teasing. Of course, you and Donna have to go. And besides – I won’t be left all alone. She steps behind Hyde and catches him off-guard with a hug and a kiss to the top of the head. KITTY (cont’d): It paid to take in an orphan, didn’t it? (laughs) Oh, Steven, I signed Schatzi up for a doggy obedience school next month, and I want you to come with us to the classes. You’re the only person Schatzi listens to about yapping at other dogs or attacking the Andersons’ Great Dane. She exits into the living room, all smiles. Hyde looks down at his breakfast, avoiding Eric and Donna’s stares. ERIC: You haven’t told my parents you’re going to Chicago with Jackie at the end of the month, have you? HYDE: No, I haven’t. Red enters from the living room, dressed for work at the muffler shop. RED: Oh, Steven, glad I caught you – your dad called last night. Said you should get to work early. He’s got some big plans for the future of the store he wants to go over with you. He exits out the patio door. DONNA: (to Hyde) You didn’t tell your dad you’re leaving either, did you? HYDE: No, I didn’t. ERIC: Huh. Well, you’re probably not gonna have fun the next three days, are you? HYDE: No, I’m not. Eric and Donna give exaggerated nods as Hyde keeps at his breakfast.

MAIN CREDITS BUMPER INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY Shortly after breakfast. The empty basement is soon filled by Hyde, coming in from his room with a fresh shirt. He’s about to exit out the basement door when it opens, and he’s confronted by a grimacing KELSO and FEZ. They advance into the basement, backing Hyde up against the far wall. KELSO: Well, well. Look who it is. Do you see who it is, Fez? FEZ: Oh, I see who it is. KELSO: Yeah, it’s our former good buddy, Hyde. Who was formerly going to stick around when Eric and Donna and Jackie all left. But I guess that was formerly. He and Fez turn their heads in toward one another, even as they both keep glaring at an unfazed Hyde. HYDE: Every day, you two get closer to turning into full-on chicks. KELSO: Man, how can you bail on us like this? We knew Donna was gonna go off to college sooner or later, and we figured Eric would go with her even if he didn’t have anything going on - FEZ: And it was a good bet he wouldn’t – that one surprised us. KELSO: Yeah, but he does. And Jackie, she was always gonna get something good in TV, ‘cause she’s hot, but you? You don’t have anything going on in Chicago. You just wanna go ‘cause you love Jackie and wanna be with her. That is so selfish! He stomps his foot, for a full measure of “whiny man-child.” Fez takes a step in toward Hyde. FEZ: You didn’t think, did you? How this would affect your friends? Those you leave behind? HYDE: Come on, man. It’s not that far a drive to Chicago. Anytime you wanna hang out - KELSO: It’s not that. If you go, we lose the basement! HYDE: What? KELSO: With Eric going away, we were counting on you still being here so Red would let us keep using the basement to hang out! But now that his son and his orphan are both leaving, he’s gonna lock us out for sure! FEZ: And if we still get in, and he finds us, and you and Eric aren’t around, he will finally kill us. (whispers) I have seen it in his eyes. HYDE: (rolls eyes) Why don’t you two just hang out at your apartment? KELSO: My daughter. This basement is where we get to do all the stupid, irresponsible, pointless stuff that makes life fun. You can’t do that when there’s a baby around. So now where are we supposed to do that stuff? HYDE: Maybe you could try not doing it anymore? The three boys stare each other down for a moment, contemplating the thought. They all break into laughter at the same time. BUMPER INT. GROOVES - DAY Not dead, but not too busy – the perfect way for a small record store to start off the day. W.B. himself is at the register, along with ANGIE. Among the customers is LEO, jamming out to whatever music is in his headphones in the listening pit. Hyde and JACKIE enter, unnoticed by anyone. Jackie has her arms wrapped around Hyde’s right. His eyeball ring is on her left ring finger, despite being too big. While Hyde is stone-faced, Jackie is beaming, her grip on Hyde’s arm visibly shaking with excitement. JACKIE: Steven, I can’t wait to tell your family we’re getting married! Daddy was so excited when I told him, he promised to wire us a dowry from his Swiss bank account as soon as he gets out of prison! HYDE: Hey – keep it down, all right? I haven’t even told them we’re moving to Chicago yet. And I don’t think being the boss’s kid makes it any easier to replace a co-manager when you give three days’ notice. JACKIE: (rolls her eyes) Fine. I won’t tell anyone yet. Leo, seeing them, takes off the headphones and crosses to meet them. LEO: Hey, dudes. JACKIE: We’re getting married! Hopping in place, she holds out her ring hand for Leo to see. Hyde glares at her. HYDE: Jackie! JACKIE: Oh, he won’t remember, he has no short-term memory! Leo leans in, takes Jackie’s hand for a closer look at the ring. He looks up to Hyde. LEO: Hyde, man, you’re getting married? That’s great, man! Do I know the bride? Hyde and Jackie share a look and an eye roll. LEO (cont’d): (to Hyde) Hey, you know who you should marry? That loud girl you’re always hanging with. JACKIE: Leo, I am the loud girl. LEO: Hey, loud girl, did you hear Hyde’s getting married? He should marry you, man! Jackie and Hyde are spared any further Leoisms by W.B. and Angie crossing to join them. W.B. is all smiles. W.B.: Steven! Here you are. I’ve got some big news for you. JACKIE: Well, we’ve got some big news for you! W.B.: Well, why don’t I go first? I’d like to get going for Milwaukee some time before dinner. W.B. puts one arm around Hyde, the other around Angie, and leads them a few steps off to the side. Leo and Jackie wander back into the listening pit. W.B. (cont’d): I’d like to make a few changes around here. Now, Angie, I’ve noticed you’ve been doing an excellent job lately - HYDE: Excuse me? Angie doesn’t know anything about music. Someone came in the other day asking for Kiss, and she called him a pervert and slapped him in the face. And what about the time my friend Bob was in, asked for something “Dean Martiny?” She recommended Blondie. ANGIE: She was the top selling record that week. W.B.: See, that’s what I’m talking about. Sales, numbers, what’s moving off the shelves – my little girl’s a whiz at all that. That’s why I want her to move back to Milwaukee and help run the corporate office. ANGIE: Wait, Daddy – are you promoting me? W.B.: Sure am, honey. It’s the biggest smile Angie’s ever had on her face. Her eyes wide, she gives a little squeak and falls over in a blackout. W.B. looks down at her, smiles, and shakes his head. W.B. (cont’d): Just like her mother. HYDE: Uh, W.B., if Angie’s going to Milwaukee, who’s gonna run the store? W.B.: You are, son! You know music, you’re good with the customers – that’s where you excel. So the store’s all yours. Angie starts to come to, though she’s still in quite a daze. W.B. helps her to her feet and guides her back to the register. Hyde, less than thrilled, steps back over to a confused Jackie. JACKIE: Did you tell them? HYDE: No. And I think I just got stuck with a two-hour commute to work every day. He shakes his head as Jackie cocks hers. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY Around lunchtime. Kelso and Fez help themselves to some lunch – potato chips, hot dogs, and soda. They lean on opposite sides of the island as they eat and talk. KELSO: I just can’t believe we’re not gonna get to hang out here anymore. No more eating Mrs. Forman’s cooking, no more taking Red’s beers, no more putting fire ants in Eric’s bed to burn him, no more sneaking in at night for sex with his sister... FEZ: That is my one regret about my brief marriage to Laurie Forman. KELSO: The sex? FEZ: No, that I never got any. KELSO: Hey, that’s a good point – you were married to Laurie. And I used to do it with her all the time. Red’s gotta love us for that, right? He’s not gonna lock us out once Hyde and Eric are gone! The boys nod, scoff at the thought of being thrown out, and trade playful jabs. Red enters through the patio door, sees the boys. RED: Oh – you two. They stop goofing around and look to Red. RED (cont’d): You know the first thing I’m doing once Eric’s off at college? Calling a locksmith. And I’m not just gonna have him work on the doors. He passes through the kitchen into the living room. A crestfallen Kelso and Fez share a look. BUMPER INT. ERIC’S BEDROOM – DAY Eric’s room is in a state of tear down. Most of the posters are off the walls and rolled up against the wall, boxes packed with action figure and models are everywhere, and Eric and Donna are in the middle of folding clothes to put into an open suitcase on the bed. DONNA: (to Eric) Have you thought about what else you wanna do in Point Place before we leave? Because I don’t think I have anything. I was the local DJ, I helped vandalize the water tower, I burned out a lot – is there really anything else to do in this town? ERIC: Maybe it’s not things we haven’t done so much as ways of doing things we haven’t tried. DONNA: What do you mean? ERIC: I mean... well, take my room. He sweeps his arm, indicating the few posters and figures still left up. ERIC (cont’d): It’s my lair, my Batcave, my Fortress of Solitude, if you will. And there’s a certain something that we’ve done in here before – many times – that I, for one, greatly enjoy. Donna silently chuckles, nods; she knows what he’s driving at. ERIC (cont’d): And I think, before we pack everything away, we could find a way to do that particular thing in a way that fits the milieu of my lair. DONNA: (laughing) Okay. What did you have in mind? Eric grins, wiggles his eyebrows. CUT TO: Donna sits on the bed, in full PRINCESS LEIA costume. Her hair is even twisted up into the buns. She seems resigned, even mildly amused, to this outfit. Eric sits next to her, hands clasped together, nodding and smiling as he admires her outfit. BUMPER INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY Red, still dressed for work, and Kitty in her nurse’s uniform, sit at the kitchen table, enjoying a hot dog lunch at home. Kitty has SCHATZI in her lap and feeds him the odd bit of hot dog every so often. Hyde and Jackie enter through the patio door. Schatzi gives a friendly yip when he sees Hyde, drawing attention their way. KITTY: Oh, there he is! (laughs) Schatzi’s looking forward to his doggy classes with his big brother. (lifts up Schatzi, does “cute” voice) Yes, he is! (laughs) HYDE: Um... yeah. Look, Mrs. Forman - RED: Kitty, don’t baby talk at the boy. He’s not Eric, for God’s sake. (to Hyde) So, Steven, there’s another auto show coming up. Whaddya say we hit the floor? HYDE: Wow, Red. That sounds great, but... JACKIE: (to the Formans) Steven doesn’t have time for doggy classes and auto shows. His dad just gave him the record store to run all on his own. Hyde glares at her. HYDE: Jackie! She shrugs; their move and engagement have completely slipped her mind. JACKIE: What? That’s more responsibility than I ever thought you’d take on at work. I’m proud of you. HYDE: Well, I can’t take on that responsibility if I go off with you to Chicago. Red and Kitty both stand. RED & KITTY: You WHAT? They stare at Jackie and Hyde, who shift awkwardly under their glare. Schatzi growls in Kitty’s arms. FADE TO BLACK COMMERCIAL BUMPER INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY Right where we left off. Kitty fumes as Red points at Hyde. RED: You’re moving to Chicago? (Hyde nods) When? HYDE: In three days. The same time Forman’s going to UW. KITTY: THREE DAYS? There’s no time for doggy classes in three days! HYDE: Well, that’s when Jackie’s job starts in Chicago, so - KITTY: (to Jackie) Oh, I should’ve known this was all your fault, you little tramp! She advances on Jackie, handing Schatzi off to Hyde. KITTY (cont’d): You and that Donna, you’re all alike, with your dolled-up faces and your flashy clothes – and I bet you don’t even wear a bra. You come in here, sweep sons and orphans off their feet, and then what are the mothers left with? What are they supposed to do? You tell me what I am supposed to do! JACKIE: (beat) Steven and I are engaged. She holds up her left hand and wiggles her ring finger. Kitty looks from Jackie’s face to her ring, then back. Her jaw slowly drops. Then she throws her hands up as she bursts into a screaming laughter, that Jackie – hesitantly at first, the enthusiastically – joins in on. KITTY: Oh, honey, that’s wonderful! And I know this wedding will go through – you are the one person around here who wouldn’t let a little thing like the groom not showing up stop you from getting married! (laughs) Oh, I – I need to hear all about it. She takes Jackie by the hand and leads her into the living room. Hyde and Red stare after the women. Red looks amused; Hyde, shocked. HYDE: What the hell was that? Jackie just totally diffused everything. RED: That’s because there’s something she knows that you’ve got to learn – no matter how old they get, women are always excited by weddings. (turns to Hyde) So – marriage and Chicago, eh? Are you ready? HYDE: (beat) Yeah. Red offers his hand, and Hyde shakes it. HYDE (cont’d): Any advice? RED: Yeah – don’t let your kids bring their friends over to your house. Before lunch, I caught the moron and the foreigner trying to force the windows open. I had to chase ‘em off with the garden hose. Hyde slowly nods as Red sits back down to his lunch. CUT TO: INT. ERIC’S BEDROOM - DAY Concurrent with the previous scene. Eric and Donna are still on the bed, Donna still taking Eric’s admiring gaze with good humor. ERIC: Donna, thank you so much for doing this. This is... wow. I don’t – I don’t even know where to start. DONNA: Well, Princess Leia’s force field is down, so you can start wherever you want. ERIC: Well, Donna, Leia doesn’t have a force field. Force fields are for – you know what, I’m too excited to quibble! Okay, so... can I start by touching your buns? DONNA: What, you want to touch my butt? ERIC: No, not those buns. You know... (points to her hair) The buns. DONNA: Eric, that seems kinda weird. ERIC: Yeah, you know what? That is, like, a little weird. Maybe I’ll just rub my face up against one of ‘em. DONNA: But Eric - ERIC: Um, okay, Donna – from now on, the only thing I’d like you to say is, “use the Force, Eric.” DONNA: Okay, that seems really - ERIC: Donna... He tilts his head down, gives her “the look.” She sighs, turns her head so he has a better angle on the left bun. DONNA: Use the Force, Eric. Eric nods, scoots in closer, and gently caresses Donna’s left bun with his face. ERIC: Leia... oh, Leia... Donna rolls her eyes, but lets Eric keep at it. BUMPER INT. GROOVES – DAY Later in the afternoon. The crowd has thinned slightly, though Leo is still in the listening pit and W.B. is still around. He and Angie are reviewing paperwork at the register when Hyde and Jackie enter and cross to them. HYDE: W.B., man, I’ve gotta talk to you. ANGIE: (to Hyde) If it’s about Bottle Rocket Friday Nights, I already told him. HYDE: No... (to W.B.) I can’t manage the store. ANGIE: (to W.B.) Called it. She opens the register and takes out a 20; apparently, she and W.B. had a bet going about this. W.B. frowns, looks up at Hyde. W.B.: Steven, I’ve told you – I won’t let you quit on me. I know you can handle this store on your own. HYDE: It’s not that. I’ve just got something else going. W.B.: “Something else going?” Like what? JACKIE: Me! She extends her left hand and wiggles her ring finger. W.B. and Angie lean in for a closer look. ANGIE: (skeptical) You’re selling eyeball rings? JACKIE: (pulls her hand back) We’re getting married, you whore! W.B. and Angie both glare at her. JACKIE (cont’d): (to W.B.) You can’t hit a girl. She hides behind Hyde, who shakes his head and sighs. HYDE: (to W.B.) We’re engaged, man. And Jackie’s got a TV job in Chicago, so we’re moving there at the end of the month. ANGIE: That’s in three days. HYDE: Yeah, well, that’s more notice than I was gonna give. ANGIE: What were you gonna give us? HYDE: I was gonna not show up for work in three days. W.B.’s frown deepens. He steps out from behind the register, crosses to Hyde. W.B.: Steven, I’m very disappointed. HYDE: Hey, I don’t owe you anything. I never said I was looking for a long-term future with you. Jackie’s the one with all the future plans, and I wanna be with her. Jackie “awws,” hugs Hyde from behind. He shifts in her arms to get his arm around her shoulder, and they both look defiantly up at W.B. W.B.: Steven, you didn’t let me finish. I’m disappointed because now I’ve only got three days to get you set up at the Chicago Grooves. He sees their shocked faces and smiles. W.B. (cont’d): Grooves is a chain, man. I’ve got these stores all over the Midwest! (offers his hand) This is great news, son. And you’re right – you’ve got your own life to live. But if you want to run the Chicago Grooves, I’ll make the call. HYDE: (takes W.B.’s hand) Wow. Uh – thanks, man. W.B.: (to Jackie) And congratulations. I know you’ll give ‘em hell. (points at Hyde) You give it to him all the time anyway. Jackie rolls her eyes but smiles back. Hyde kisses her on her forehead. ANGIE: (crosses to the others) Wait... who’s going to run the Grooves here then? Leo comes up behind Hyde, puts a hand on his shoulder. LEO: Hey, dudes. Hyde and Jackie look to Leo. Very slowly, very knowingly, they look to W.B. and Angie. Neither of them looks in any way convinced. W.B.: (to Hyde) You’re sure about this? HYDE: Yeah, man, Leo’s a good guy. (puts arm around Leo) He used to run the Fotohut in town. And he only locked himself out of it twice. LEO: Actually, it was three times, but I got in through the window I left open. W.B. and Angie still don’t look convinced, but they don’t have any other available options. Hyde and Jackie nod, satisfied, and they each clap a grinning Leo on the back. FADE TO BLACK TITLE CARD CARD 1: Three weeks later CARD 2: Eric Forman’s house CARD 3: August 31, 1979 CARD 4: 10:45 a.m. EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY - DAY Late morning. The EL CAMINO and VISTA CRUISER are both in the driveway, and both are loaded up with boxes, bags, and suitcases. Donna is adjusting the ties around the bags on top of the Vista Cruiser, while Jackie adjusts the boxes in the flatbed of the El Camino. They talk as they work. DONNA: And then he brought out this whole stormtrooper outfit and had me reenact that scene where Luke rescues Leia from the prison cell. Except we didn’t so much “escape” as “have sex.” In costume. JACKIE: Okay, Donna, do yourself a favor: when you get to UW, don’t tell anyone you’re dating the Star Wars sex student teacher. DONNA: It wasn’t that bad. Eric was happy. Plus, after we were done, he did something I always wanted to do in my room. JACKIE: Oh, yeah? What? Donna checks the Forman’s patio; no one is there. She looks up and down the street; no one is around. Even with the coast all clear, she beckons Jackie over and whispers the answer into her ear. That answer makes Jackie gasp, clasp a hand over her mouth, and grab Donna’s wrist with the other hand as both girls start giggling. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY It’s a subdued gathering of the guys in a markedly stripped-down basement; most of the games, most of the toys, most of the records are gone. Eric and Hyde are busy packing up the last of their things while Kelso and Fez sulk on the couch. FEZ: Well, here we are. Our last time in the basement together, just us guys. (to Eric, Hyde) I am going to miss you two. You are good people. ERIC: Miss you too, buddy. FEZ: You were the first people to look out for me when I came to this country. The first to welcome me into your home. The first to give me beer and booby magazines. (sniffs) Oh, here come the water works. He puts a hand over his face as the tears swell up. KELSO: Yeah, I’ll miss you guys too. And the girls. Mostly the girls. I’ll even miss Hyde frogging me ‘cause of stuff I say about Jackie. As Hyde passes behind the couch with a few shirts, he pauses to frog Kelso in the arm. HYDE: There you go, man. Parting shot. KELSO: Thanks, Hyde. And I really am gonna miss this basement. No more late night drinking, no more sex on the couch. It’s the end of an era. I guess your friends moving away and the responsibility of watching your illegitimate child on weekends really can change your life. Eric and Hyde, boxes in hand, pause on their way to the stairs and look to Kelso. ERIC: Wait – you only have Betsy on weekends? KELSO: Yep. He doesn’t get it, and neither does the still-sobbing Fez. Eric and Hyde share a pitying look. ERIC: (to Kelso) Doesn’t that mean you have the whole week to, like, do all the stupid, irresponsible, pointless things in your apartment that you used to do here? Slowly, Kelso and Fez look up from their brooding. Slowly, they turn toward one another. At once, they spring out of their seats, embrace each other, and dance around in circles, screaming in incoherent delight at this revelation. Eric and Hyde both smile, shake their heads, and head up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – DAY Red sits in his chair, alone in the room. He has an envelope in one hand and a pocketknife in the other. When the kitchen door opens and Eric and Hyde enter, he stands and faces the boys. RED: Ah, boys, there you are. I wanted to talk to you before you leave. I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been looking forward to having you, and anyone your age, out of the house for a long time. ERIC: (flat) Oh, really? Did you notice that, Hyde? HYDE: You know, I think I got that impression once or twice. ERIC: Was it when he said, “it will be more glorious than D-Day?” HYDE: (snaps his free hand) That was it. RED: Yeah. Well... (to Eric) You’re my son – (to Hyde) And you are a fine young man. So... here. He hands Hyde the envelope. RED (cont’d): It’s all the money you’ve paid in rent over the years, plus the interest it picked up in your savings account. Hyde sets his box down, takes the envelope, opens it up. HYDE: Whoa. RED: I was tempted to blow that all on booze. Don’t you fall for that idea. (to Eric) And Eric – here. Eric sets his box down and, very reverentially, takes the knife. ERIC: This is your pocketknife from Korea. You said if I ever touched it, I’d meet the same fate as hundreds of other godless commies. RED: Well, I want you to have it. And I want you to know that I’m gonna miss you, and I love you. ERIC: Wait a second. What did you just say? RED: You heard me. He opens his arms and pulls Eric into a hug, which Eric returns. ERIC: Thank you, Dad. Red breaks the hug first. He turns to embrace Hyde, who hugs him back. When they finish, Red claps both boys on the shoulder. They pocket their gifts, pick up their boxes, and exit through the kitchen door. CUT TO: EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY - DAY Eric and Hyde step outside to find Bob holding Donna in a tight, swaying embrace. He’s already blubbering. BOB: Oh, I’m gonna miss you, pumpkin. DONNA: I’ll miss you too, Dad. But don’t start eating whole trays of lasagna by yourself, like you did when I was in California. Bob lets her go. BOB: (sniffs) I only promise to try. He pulls a hankie from his pocket and dabs his eyes as he walks off. Eric and Hyde join the girls by the cars, set their boxes down. Donna crosses to Hyde. DONNA: Hyde, I’m gonna miss you. They hug. Jackie crosses to Eric. JACKIE: Eric, I’ll miss you too. You’ve always been very special to me. ERIC: (skeptical) Okay, Jackie, I think the first thing you should do when you get to Chicago is see a psychiatrist. Jackie rolls her eyes and opens her arms for a hug. Eric nods, lets her hug him, gives a very light one back. When they finish, Jackie crosses to Donna. JACKIE: And of course, I’ll miss you. My big, clumsy lumberjack. DONNA: My annoying little midget. They smile and hug. Eric and Hyde turn to face each other. HYDE: Hey, man. I got you something for your place in Madison. ERIC: Yeah? Well, I got you something for your place in Chicago. Each pulls out a paper bag. They trade bags, turn away, and look inside. They turn back to each other, all grins. HYDE/ERIC: Nice./All right. They clasp hands and pull into a hug. The girls come up behind them and turn it into a group hug. A crying Fez and a grinning Kelso come running out from around the house. FEZ: MY BUDDIES! They crash into the group hug, joining in on it. The patio door opens and a sobbing Kitty comes running out, Schatzi in her arms. KITTY: MY BABY! She worms her way into the heart of the group hug to get at Eric. Bob comes running back up the street to hug the group too. Red steps out from the house, but doesn’t join in. ERIC: What? Yeah, okay. This is – this is nice. Yeah. It’s actually getting a little hard to breathe. Okay, that’s good, everyone! Stop now! The group hug breaks. Kelso takes Fez in his arms as he continues to cry. Hyde scratches Schatzi’s head “goodbye,” then lets Kitty retreat into Red’s arms. He and Jackie get into the El Camino. Donna crosses to Eric. DONNA: This is it. We’re finally off to the rest of our lives. ERIC: Together. DONNA: Yeah – together. They kiss. Donna climbs into the passenger seat of the Vista Cruiser. Eric moves to the driver’s side door, takes one last look around his childhood home. ERIC: (quietly) So long, Point Place. He gives a small wave to the town. He climbs in and starts the car. The El Camino starts too. (MUSIC NOTE: instrumental version of “That 70s Song.”) The El Camino pulls away first, then the Vista Cruiser. Bob, Fez, Kelso, and the Formans all wave goodbye as the cars drive off, Kitty waving one of Schatzi’s little paws. FADE TO BLACK CREDITS INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT A few days later. The basement is still stripped down to just the furniture. Red is at the door. With great relish, he turns the newly installed locks. He savors the click, gives an approving nod. He crosses to the couch, sits down, and turns on the TV to a football game. Red watches in contentment, at first. His smile slowly fades. He looks to his left and his right. He looks back at the door and back at the stairs. He sighs. His arms fold across his chest and his face settles into a scowl. RED: Ah, hell. It’s too damn quiet in here! END.

#z's fics #that 70s show #zenmasters #jackie x hyde #zen3to5+#fan fiction #fan script

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unityghost · 5 years ago

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Keeping Time

Part 23 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. Yes, I need a social life. This story contains non-graphic references to pretty screwed-up violent scenarios. I am, in Gabriel's words, a "sadistic beast."

This story is based on the following suggestions:

1. Hi. Long time stalker of your stories here and I really should've dropped a review long ago. Love this series so much and I get excited when I see you post it. You mention Sam's trauma and how it relates to Gabe... This fic makes me want a scene where Gabe is able to help Sam through a nightmare or flashback. He might feel less useless or indebted to Sam as well as proving he can power through some of his stuff to help Sam. (WinchesterKarma67, Fanfiction.net)

2. "Now I really just want to see Sam get triggered hard core in front of Gabriel, and Gabe trying really hard to take care of him the same way." (Kim, Archive)

Thank you guys for the suggestions! I'm not taking any prompts or requests at the moment, unfortunately, because I have quite a few.

Thanks for reading!

“I feel weird,” said Gabriel.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and peered down at him. “How so?”

“I feel almost …” Gabriel lifted his head from the pillow. “Well-rested?”

Sam’s face brightened. “Nothing bothered you last night?”

“I don’t remember dreaming at all.”

“Gabriel, that’s great! But listen, when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

Gabriel snorted. “Maybe you can forget about the fancy overpriced CBD flaxseed bar you force-fed me before bed, but I can’t.”

“I thought we could have breakfast together. That’s why I came in to wake you up. We can go before everyone gets out of church for brunch.”

“Well, just because I didn’t puke up your hippy-dippy vegan brick at 3:00 A.M. doesn’t mean I’ll be able to eat. Don’t let your expectations get out of control.”

“I’m not going to get mad if you can’t have anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, I know; I just - anyway, sure, let’s go. Give me a second to make myself presentable.”

Although Gabriel was definitely better this morning, watching Sam exit the room gave him the same chill he experienced in his most desperate moments, the same feeling that perhaps Sam wouldn’t come back - or that when he did, it would be to scold Gabriel, to yell at him for being too attached and endlessly helpless. That was when the fear crept in, so that Gabriel almost began to hope that Sam would leave him alone.

Sam had given Gabriel so much, and still there was the voice in Gabriel’s head, punctuated by kicks to the ribs, stomach, and face: Spoiled rotten; always on your knees whining for more! Because nothing is ever enough for your greedy ass!

Gabriel gritted his teeth and shoved himself from the bed.

There was breakfast with Sam to look forward to. Asmodeus would not be allowed access to this morning.

Once he and Sam were winding through the quiet backroads that led to the diner, Gabriel felt a little more relaxed. But it was inevitable that sometimes - more often than he’d like to admit - these episodes of fear and shame crept out of nowhere and held him in their grasp for the rest of the day.

Sam glanced at him from the driver’s side. “Something wrong?”

Gabriel shook his head, trying to clear it. “‘Course not. Why?”

“You looked kind of upset.”

“Nope, that’s just my resting bitch face.”

Sam was quiet for a while. Then he said, “You know, if something’s bugging you, you can tell me.”

“You’ve made that clear, and somehow I’ve come to believe you.”

“I’m just saying … even if things are going okay. Even if you got a good night’s sleep, or started feeling stronger, or anything like that … I don’t know, I just don’t want you to think you have to be all right even at the best of times.”

Gabriel stared through the window, watching the scenery glide past. “Well, sooner or later, I will be.”

“Of course you - ”

“Sam!” Gabriel shrieked.

Sam slammed on the brakes with a cry of alarm. A boy aged about eight or nine stood frozen in front of the Impala, ogling Sam and Gabriel through the windshield with a combination of shock and satisfaction on his face.

Gabriel turned to glance at Sam, who was already throwing open the door to yell, “Are you out of your mind?”

The boy gave a nervous smile.

Sam glared at him. And there was something strange in his eyes, something Gabriel couldn’t quite identify.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam demanded. “You could’ve gotten killed!”

“I won,” the child declared. “I won the dare and I probably would’ve won even higher if you’d kept on going. I definitely would’ve made it across. Which makes me a champion.”

Gabriel continued to scrutinize Sam’s expression, trying to figure out what lay beneath the incredulity.

Mouth set tight, Sam heaved himself out of the car and strode over to the child, who suddenly looked far less self-confident with Sam towering over him.

Gabriel’s breath caught. He could see the same terrified fury that came to life whenever Gabriel alluded to a desire to hurt himself.

Gabriel unbuckled his seat belt, pushed open the door, and stepped out of the car. “Sam, come on, he was just being stupid.”

“I was being brave,” the little boy objected. “I’m a - ”

“Not a champion, pal. A crackbrained prepubescent nimrod. Go home and meditate on the tender line between courage and recklessness.”

The child opened his mouth to respond, but Gabriel grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him back to the Impala. To the child, he added, “Get your butt home, Evel Knievel.”

Once the two of them were seated again and the child had slunk away, Gabriel turned to Sam. “What’s up, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Sam spat.

Startled, Gabriel leaned away from him. “Did I - ”

“No.” Sam’s face softened. “No, you didn’t do anything. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay; I’m totally fine. Let’s just keep going.”

Gabriel stayed pressed into the door. “You’re not fine. You’re worrying me.”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Adrenaline rush, that’s all. You getting hungry yet?”

“Is that a joke? When am I ever hungry? Look, if you’re freaked out by this whole thing, we can go back; you can cram another organically-sourced monstrosity down my throat.”

“No, no, I’m gonna be fine. I mean, I am fine.”

“Sam.” Gabriel reached out to him and Sam jerked away.

“Don’t, Gabriel.” He took a shaky breath. “Just don’t.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms around himself. “All right. Okay. Let’s go if you want to go.”

Sam closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Just - don’t touch me right now, all right?”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t - ”

“Didn’t know, I know. I’m not pissed at you, all right?” When Gabriel didn’t move forward again, Sam snapped, “Just sit up, Gabe. I’m not gonna hit you or anything.”

Gabriel swallowed, heart pounding. Hating himself for his fear, he leaned further backward, tempted to open the door and flee.

Sam’s expression shifted into one of alarm. “Wait, wait, I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He held out his hand, waiting for Gabriel to accept it. After a few moments, Gabriel stretched out shaking fingers and allowed Sam to grip them.

“It’s okay,” Sam repeated quietly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just - I’m sorry. I don’t know where my head is right now.”

Gabriel tried to even out his breathing. “You’re probably more discombobulated than I am, huh? Could use some food?”

Sam gave a faint smile and released Gabriel’s hand to take the wheel again. “Probably, yeah.”

Neither of them said anything more until they had walked through the doors of the eatery and taken a booth together.

Gabriel gazed down at the sloppily cleaned silverware, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, revolted by his own panic.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice was soft. “I was a little freaked out, that’s all. No one’s angry. Not at you. I promise.”

Gabriel’s hands had begun to shake. He lowered them to his lap so that they were hidden underneath the table. “What happened, Sam? What did that do to you?”

“I told you, it was adrenaline.”

“Don’t try to sell me that crap; you face way worse than that at least once a week and I’ve never seen you react like this.”

“I was …” Sam avoided Gabriel’s eyes. “It was nothing.”

Gabriel leaned closer to him and lowered his voice so that only Sam could hear. “He’s not here, you know. Whatever you thought you saw back there, it had nothing to do with Lucifer and everything to do with that little squirt being a dumbass.”

Sam didn’t seem surprised by Gabriel’s intuition. “Reflex. Hard to fight.”

“Understood. Look up at me, macho-nacho.” Sam didn’t. “All right, I can’t decide if you need caffeine, chamomile, or Corona, but let’s get you something to bring you back to the present.”

“I’m all here.”

“You’re miles away. I have eyes, ears, and common sense. Can you tell me what - ”

“Boys.”

The two of them looked up as a young waitress with sharp features and red hair hair cropped short slid menus in front of them. “Anything to drink, fellas?”

“Coffee for me,” Gabriel told her, “And lemonade for my partner in crime. As you can see, he’s showing all the classic signs of low blood sugar. Shaky, spacey, practically see-through.”

The waitress frowned. “Well Jesus honey, you need me to get a doctor on site?”

“No,” Sam said hastily. “No, I’ll be fine. But uh, lemonade would be great. Coffee too.”

“Copy that. I’ll have it right out.”

As she hustled toward the kitchen, Sam turned to face Gabriel. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“Let me feel your pulse,” Gabriel replied.

“What?”

“Let me feel your pulse and then look me in the eye and tell me I shouldn’t worry about you.”

“You should eat something is what you should do.”

“I’ll eat anything you want me to just as soon as I’ve got some indication of how I can bring you out of this.” Sam didn’t answer, and Gabriel’s tone grew desperate. “I know, Sam. I know what it’s like to be trapped in your own head. And I can’t - ” Gabriel cleared his throat. “I can’t watch you go through it. I mean, I know I’ve seen it before and I promise this has nothing to do with me not being able to handle what you talk about. In fact, you don’t have to talk about anything. I’m not asking for that. I’m asking what I can do. Because I know I can do something.”

“Look, Gabe - ”

But it was then that the waitress placed a tall glass of pink lemonade in front of Sam, followed by a donut drenched in powdered sugar. “On the house,” she told them, and then set down two mugs of coffee.

“Many thanks,” said Gabriel. “He’ll be up and at ‘em as soon as he guzzles that down.”

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and left them alone once more.

Sam took his butter knife and cut the donut in half. “Here.”

Gabriel accepted his piece. “I’ll eat this if you tell me what I can do to help you.”

“What do you think you can do?” Sam sounded frustrated again. “I just have to let it pass. And I’ll be fine. I will. This happens all the time.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring. Listen, I used to think the same thing: let the pain run its course. And it works, am I right? It works when you do nothing to intervene. But when somebody steps in, it doesn’t have to last for hours on end.”

“It’s not going to last for hours.”

“It’s already gone on too long.”

“So what do you want from me?” Sam was edging toward anger. “Do you want me to tell you everything? The way you hate when I ask you to do the same thing? Huh?”

“That isn’t what I meant. Sam, I … I’m not … ”

He’s not violent. He’s afraid.

Gabriel took a deep breath.

He won’t hurt me. Not in front of all these people. No. No, not ever.

“It’s just,” Gabriel muttered, “I know I can’t fix it, but I want to make it better.”

Sam gave a derisive laugh. “‘Better’?”

Gabriel stared down at his half of the donut, suddenly sick to his stomach. “I don’t want to see you struggling, especially not over something like what happened to me.” He raised his eyes. “You understand, Sam?”

Sam continued to glare at him. Abruptly, Gabriel got to his feet.

Sam looked startled. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I uh, I thought - I thought you might - I don’t know.” He sat down again. “I thought you might want me to leave.”

“No.” Sam sounded bewildered.

“Then stop.” Gabriel’s voice shivered. “Please. Please.”

Sam shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down. “I’m sorry. It isn’t you, I just …”

“Have a temper you try to control around me. An effort that doesn’t go unnoticed. Look, Sam - not to thicken the already lavishly decorated soap script we have going, but I care about you. I care about what’s ravaging your brain. Because if anyone knows how much those memories suck, how fast they can drain the life out of you and make you feel totally gone and like no one else is there, and everything is dark and broken - you’ve got me for that, even if you don’t want to talk. It’s like when I don’t want to say anything to you. That doesn’t always matter, does it? What matters when I’m like you are now is that you’re the only one who doesn’t seem like some contorted, sinister version of himself. And I’m the safe one here when everything else feels like it did in Hell. When things feel different, and gross, and untrustworthy, and some twisted parody of what’s supposed to be safe. It’s me, Sam. I’m here to keep you safe. Exactly the way you do for me.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not your responsibility.”

“No, it’s not. I know that. I know because you’ve already told me thousands of times and I trust you enough to assume that you’re probably onto something. But do you really believe that after everything you’ve done for me - when you find me on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night too weak to even keep my head over the toilet bowl, when you lie in bed with me just in case it happens again, when you let me hold your hand where other people can see - you think that after all of that, I’m callous enough to let you bleed out on your own?”

Sam folded his hands on the table. His fingers twitched. “What if it hurts you?”

“Then don’t give any specifics if you don’t want to; just let me - let me - I don’t know, can I come over there and hug you?”

That took Sam by surprise. “Yeah, sure.”

Gabriel moved around to the other side of the table and wrapped his arms around Sam, who returned the embrace and, after a moment’s deliberation, rested his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“You are unyielding and unreasonable,” Gabriel told him, “And it’s stupid that you care about others more than you care about yourself. It’s stupid that you can give me what you do and still think you should just hole up in your room and panic without anyone there to wait it out with you. How would you feel if any of us put ourselves through that? You know I’ve done it, and frankly I can’t imagine Dean hasn’t too. And Castiel? There’s no conceivable way that my brother hasn’t taken his fair share of breakdowns and crammed them into a moldy cabinet somewhere no one ever thinks to look. And if you’re in pain, if you’re hurting because of what happened to you, don’t lock yourself away from me.” He strengthened his grip. “Just let me help you, Sam.”

Sam didn’t reply, and neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Gabriel didn’t try to pull away: he knew what it felt like to have to let go before he was ready.

Then Sam muttered into his ear, “Just tell me when you think you it’s too much, all right?”

“You got it, Sam.”

At last, Sam eased himself upright. Where his face had been pale before, he now looked flushed and feverish. “All right. So …”

Gabriel waited.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked again.

“I’m sure.”

Sam hesitated, perhaps sifting through the potential repercussions - both for himself and for Gabriel - of explaining what was wrong.

Then, in a slow, cautious tone of voice: “I’m not really sure what I thought I’d be. In terms of life outside hunting, I mean. But in my head I - the idea of having a normal life after college, with a wife and kids and … and just forgetting everything else - I didn’t know if I wanted it; sometimes I think maybe I was just jumping from one extreme to the other. You know - the life of a hunter versus the life of some corncob-pipe husband and dad.” He paused. “But that’s the thing. I really did spend a lot of time thinking a lot about what it might be like to get married and have kids. Just get the chance to be a - a person, you know?” Sam picked at a sticky splotch on the table. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been the best thing for me. There’s no way of ever figuring that out now. And no need to wonder, I guess; no point in missing what I never had, and what maybe I didn’t really want after all. But …”

Sam stopped again, and this time he seemed to be wrestling with the urge to cry.

Gabriel didn’t intervene. Sam could be the one to decide if he wanted to say more.

“Most days,” Sam went on when he was ready, “I don’t think about it. I can’t. Because it won’t happen, ever. It’s too late for - for - crap - ” He used the heels of his hands to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, sorry, um - it’s just - Lucifer knew. He could get inside my head, easily. He could see everything.” Sam swallowed. “And he showed me what it might have been like - me, and the woman I loved, and … and the kids we might’ve had.”

Gabriel’s chest tightened. That shouldn’t have been taken away from Sam.

“He’s nothing if not thorough,” Sam continued. “Didn’t exactly make me believe it was really happening. I never thought I was out and free or it had all been a dream or whatever. He was with me the entire time, just letting me watch things play out. The life I thought I wanted. The life I thought I probably would’ve had. It took a while. I just stood and watched. I couldn’t stop watching. Because there she was, and the kids too, and I … just in those few minutes of watching them, I got to know them so well.” He took in harsh breaths through his nose.

“Easy does it,” said Gabriel. “Here.” He offered Sam the glass of lemonade. Sam accepted and took a few sips before going on.

“I remember exactly what they looked like, and their names too. There were three of them. Um - and - you know, I thought he probably just meant to torment me with, ‘Look what you missed out on; look at all the mistakes that erased this from your life. Look at every idiotic decision you made that took you away from what you never even deserved.’”

Gabriel recoiled. “Is that what he said to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does; did he trash-talk you like that?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about the weather. So anyway, I figured that was his goal: to force me into bystander status for what might’ve been mine. But then - then he - we - ”

“Wait.” Gabriel gripped his shoulder. “Wait. Slow down. You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm. If you don’t want to say what happened then you don’t have to. I get it; spilling the truth can make things worse, not better. So don’t push yourself.”

Sam’s face had taken on a peculiar mix of terror and weariness. “I’ve never brought it up before. Now’s as good a time as any, right? And for my sake, I guess, I’m glad you understand. Not sure anyone else could.”

“I do. And I know going over it, out loud - sometimes it’s the worst thing, and sometimes it’s the best.”

Sam shuddered in Gabriel’s grasp. “Yeah, so anyway, he - um - it wasn’t just dragging me down a would-be memory lane. It ended with him - with - ” Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “When I was afraid maybe I was gonna hurt that stupid little kid - ”

Gabriel slid his hand off of Sam’s shoulder. “Oh no. Sam, no.”

“ - I thought about the knife in my hand, and what it felt like to - ”

“No, Sam - oh God - ”

Sam shrugged a shoulder to discreetly wipe his face on his sleeve. “Too much?”

Yes, Gabriel wanted to say, but not because it brought up memories for him. It was simply that he couldn’t stomach the image of Sam being coerced into something so depraved, something that would break him over and over again for the rest of his life.

“Okay,” Gabriel breathed. “Okay, listen. Let’s do the math here: the kid that ran in front of the car? He’s an idiot. Like all children have been since the beginning of time. Take my word for it, Sam: that much has never changed. He didn’t get hurt. Not at all. And more importantly, this has nothing to do with Lucifer. He isn’t here. Okay? He’s not. I’m here. Right here.”

Sam nodded, eyes lowered and full of tears.

“Sammy, you got stuck with the annoying archangel, not the bully. Here, have some more of this.” He nudged the glass of lemonade toward Sam, but Sam shook his head.

“Do you get it too?” Gabriel asked. “Feeling like you gotta throw up?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to go home?”

Sam blinked, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Come on, you.” Gabriel guided him to his feet. “I would offer to drive but frankly I don’t know if I remember how.”

Sam wiped his eyes. “It’s fine. I can drive.”

“Are you sure? Because we could get Cas over here. ”

“I don’t want him to see. Can we keep this just between us?”

“I never assume otherwise. But you know they’d understand, right?”

“Yeah, but this just … isn’t the right time.”

Gabriel wondered if that time would ever come.

Sam left a handful of bills on the table. The waitress caught Gabriel’s eye, glanced at the nearly-full glass, and frowned.

“Hold on,” Gabriel said to Sam, and went over to her. He lowered his voice. “Poor guy just ain’t feeling well. Stomach virus or something. Gonna get him home and resting stat.”

She looked crestfallen. “Wish there was something I could do.”

“Hey, you were a real help. Thank you. And don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he caught it from me. The least I can do is show him a little TLC.”

She smiled. “Make sure he stays hydrated.”

“Don’t you worry. I know exactly how to get him back on his feet. Learned it all from him.”

The drive back home was slow, but smooth. Sam was being careful, Gabriel realized, afraid of another near-tragedy with an impulsive child.

Then, just a few minutes from home, he pulled off to the side of the road and sucked in a shaky gasp of air.

Gabriel leapt out of the car and scurried around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and helped Sam lean forward to vomit on the pavement.

He kept his hand on the back of Sam’s neck while Sam choked, heaving deep breaths and spitting out bile. When Sam raised his eyes to meet Gabriel’s, neither of them spoke.

Gabriel returned to the passenger side and climbed in. The remainder of the drive was silent.

Once they were back in the bunker, Gabriel gestured for Sam to follow him. “Come into my room. Let’s hang out.”

A little uncertain, Sam did as Gabriel asked. When they reached the bedroom, he said, “You don’t gotta take care of me in here. Or anywhere else.”

“What a relief. I thought I was contractually obligated.” Gabriel sat on the bed. “ Christ on a crabcake, Sam. If your room can be my recovery chamber, then mine can be yours.”

With some reluctance, Sam closed the door and sat next to Gabriel. They were quiet.

“It’s okay, you know,” Gabriel said at last. “That kid is gonna be fine. You didn’t hurt him.”

Sam swallowed. “Um. No. Honestly, I … no.”

“No what?”

“No, it’s … it’s not okay. It really just …” Sam’s face was pale, his features tight and nervous.

“I know,” Gabriel answered softly. “I just meant that it’s more okay than it used to be.” He paused. “But I know the feeling. That you’re not really out. That maybe it would’ve been easier just to stay.”

At this, Sam looked perplexed. “What?”

“Because then you can avoid having to calculate what’s real and what isn’t. Drains a lot of energy, doesn’t it? Sam, you’ve seen how I get when someone even blinks at me the wrong number of times. ‘They’re gonna scream at me. They’re gonna start beating the living shish kebab out of me and then they’ll - ’”

“Stop. None of us would do that to you.”

“And that’s the crisis right there, isn’t it?” Gabriel squeezed fistfuls of the bedcovers in an attempt to steady himself. “Trying to disentangle the new truth from the old truth. With Asmodeus, things were simple: all it took was a couple of footsteps from outside the cell and I knew exactly what to expect. But now? When I hear you, or Castiel, or Dean, or Jack - any one of you guys could waltz past my door in the middle of the night and it takes effort to really feel that it’s you, even when I'm perfectly aware that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve got Winston Smith syndrome, Sam. I just can’t make two and two equal five. It’s all a tangle of ‘you’ll be fine’ and ‘no you won’t’ and ‘you should hate yourself’ and ‘no you shouldn’t.’ And then … and then questions. ‘Why not hate yourself?’ ‘Because Sam’ll be mad if you do.’ ‘Why can’t you just accept that you’re safe now?’ ‘Because - ’” Gabriel took a shivery breath. “‘Because you’re not.’”

“Gabriel - ”

“Anyway, what can I do to make this better for you?”

“You’re making it better by letting me spend time in here.”

“‘Letting’ you. It’s a real drag but I’m a giver.”

Unexpectedly, Sam smiled. “You seem comfortable.”

“I what?”

“You seem to enjoy switching roles.”

Gabriel held up a hand. “You lost me. Because only a sadistic beast would enjoy watching you suffer. Lucifer is somehow the first to come to mind.”

“That’s not what I mean, Gabriel. I know you.”

“You know me better than anyone should have to.”

“What I’m trying to say is I know how badly you want to be useful. How you feel like you have to repay us for letting you stick around.”

“Also the fact that you’ve had to buy extra bags of coffee to make up for so many sleepless nights.”

“Like I’ve always said, none of us wants you to feel that way. Like you need to make up for being in pain. I just wanted to tell you that I think …” Sam took a moment to reflect on how to phrase his thoughts. “I think this is what you’re really good at. What you seem to be at ease doing. I just thought you should know that even if it doesn’t matter to me what you can do, this is the best thing you could ever give us. The best thing you could ever give me.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure how to reply. So he said, “I’m just glad I can play my part. I don’t care what you knuckleheads tell me; I’m in no position to keep bellyaching to Nurse Winchester without doing something to thank you.”

“Sure. Right. Because that’s the most important thing to all of us. You know, keeping around our all-purpose tool that I guess we’ve accidentally grown attached to.”

“I think I’m supposed to laugh.”

“I’m not serious, if that’s what you’re asking. All I’m trying to say is, this is something to remind yourself of when you’re … when you get how you get about your role here.”

“Hmm. Well. I’m just sorry you caught on to the fact that Mary Poppins in my secret identity. In any case, Sam, I’m only taking a leaf out of your CV. I know what works for me. I don’t know how to help you, not really, but I’m also not going to watch. I don’t think I could live with myself if I had to stand outside your door waiting for you to recover.”

Sam sighed. “I’ll be okay. I will. Really. I’m just … I’m not right now.”

“Hey, listen.” Gabriel moved his hand, hesitated, and then took Sam’s. “If all this torture - not the before, but the after - has taught me anything, it’s that ‘right now’ is the most important time of your life. And mine. And part of your ‘right now’ is that you’re out of there. So am I. We’re both safe.”

Sam didn’t reply.

“I’m the last person to take advice from,” Gabriel continued, “But it’s not that I don’t understand your tips about telling myself over and over again that everything’s okay. I just haven’t got the choreography down.”

“Well,” said Sam, “Sometimes the best way to learn the ropes is to teach someone else.”

“All right, we’ve spent enough time on me. Tell me what you need.”

Sam stiffened and slid his hand away. “I don’t need anything. I mean - you’re doing more than enough, so don’t worry.”

“There has to be something. When you ask me that question, sometimes I hold back.”

Sam hunched his shoulders. “Gabriel …”

Gabriel waited.

Sam met his gaze. “I just need those kids to be okay. I need to change what happened.”

Gabriel almost replied with But you can’t before realizing that that would be anything but helpful.

Sam didn’t need a reality check. Sam didn’t need to be reassured that none of it had actually taken place - not when he already understood that. Sam didn’t need to be told that things were all right now, that he was safe.

Because they weren’t, and he wasn’t.

“You know how it is,” Sam barreled on, “When you see a little kid and they don’t have any idea about anything? Have you ever had to watch a kid learn about death?”

“I once infiltrated a Catholic School disguised as a nun so that I could teach the headmaster a thing or two about kicking some dude out for wearing nail polish to Mass. And let me tell you, they give those rascals quite the G-rated version of Heaven. And the PG-13 version of Hell - they get some things right, and some things wrong, and if they have anything to say about it the kids are all headed to Hell for the wrong reasons. And don’t even get me started on the purity club and its abstinence-only community outreach.

“Anyway, yes, I watched the kids grapple a little. It’s confusing even if you’re given the black-and-white edition of the afterlife: you die and get to play mahjong with Jesus, or you spend the rest of eternity like I thought I was going to. But kids learn, Sam, and they work with what they’re handed. Except … I know it’s probably not the same watching your own kids learn about death by actually dying. Going from zero to sixty like that, in the most hideous way. You wanted to protect them, and I get it. I just hope you understand you did nothing wrong.” He couldn’t wind an arm around Sam’s shoulders without having to stretch a little, so Gabriel took him by the waist instead.

“No,” said Sam, and Gabriel let go. Sam’s cheeks were flushed with the effort of holding back what Gabriel knew, from experience, would force its way out by any means necessary. “I just - I don’t want you to have to - ”

“It’s all right.

“I, um - I want you to trust me, and if you know I get like this - ”

“What is it you always say to me?” Gabriel’s voice was gentle. “‘Don’t do that Gabe; you’ll make yourself sick trying so hard to keep yourself in one piece.’”

No response.

“Sam,” Gabriel pressed, “No matter how many times you try to hide because you don’t want me exposed to whatever depraved shenanigans you think your own feelings are, it makes me trust you more. I like that you don’t try and stick to a list of signs and symptoms and potential treatments when it comes to helping me. You understand me and everything going on with me because you’ve never escaped either. You’re not a spectator, not an analyst; you’re part of whatever twisted team you and I have been forced to play for.”

Sam looked up at him, jaw tight.

“I trust you,” Gabriel repeated. “I trust everyone here. But I’ll never be able to trust the others as much as I trust you. I hate that you’re like this because you’re the last person to deserve it, but it doesn’t make things worse for me, Sam. It just makes you more … whatever it is you’ve been for me.”

Sam held his gaze for a moment, and then his face crumpled.

“Okay,” Gabriel muttered, pulling him close, “It’s all okay. It is. Or it will be. I’m right here.”

“Nothing’s going to make it okay,” Sam moaned. “Nothing except going back and not hurting them.”

“Ah shit, Sam, I know.”

Sam let out a sob and strengthened his grasp on Gabriel enough that it hurt, but Gabriel wasn’t going to tell him that. “How can I miss what I never even had?”

“Grief plays dirty, Sam. Makes you think you’re crazy.” Gabriel pulled away, taking Sam by the shoulders. “You’re not crazy. Wanting something doesn’t make you crazy.”

Sam gave a strangled laugh. “How is it that applies to me and not to you?”

“It does apply to me! Wanting things makes me - makes me - not crazy. Greedy, and … and spoiled and demanding. Anyway, you’re not crazy for wanting it. For missing it. You’re not, Sam. Especially if it was just around the corner. And if you wanted it then, and you thought it was within reach - ”

“Don’t.” Sam closed his eyes. “Sorry, um, I don’t - I can’t - ”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay.” Gabriel hugged him again. “I know what that’s like, to feel like the only thing that’ll fix what’s wrong is to change what happened. Because it is. That’s not make-believe, Sam. It’s where my mind goes every time you talk about Lucifer. The way he got to fiddle with justice - it’s disgusting. I don’t know why or how or even when he made the stupid choices he did, but evil is evil even when it comes to anyone you thought you could call family. At the end of the day, the only real loose end is how Sam Winchester wound up as target practice. It’s not fair. And if I can’t fix it I don’t know what to do with myself.

“But that’s the thing, Sam: I can’t fix it. Sure enough, Sam’s tone hardened. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Committed to avoiding the debate they’d had countless times, Gabriel went on, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept a reality in which my own brother could manhandle your existence like that. I can’t accept a reality that involves my father turning a blind eye to the ending you got.”

“It wasn’t an ending. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“When I think about how you might not have been, I just …”

“Like you said: it’s right now that’s important. And right now I’m a mess but I’m not gone.”

Gone. The word made Gabriel’s flesh crawl. “I need you here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Gabriel shivered. “Right, yeah, no, of course. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m … I’m not really sure, to tell you the truth.”

Gabriel broke away again. “I think you should have something to drink. Seeing as you puked up what little of the lemonade you managed, huh?”

“I guess.”

“You want me to go get you some water? Some tea? Some … anything?” Then, feeling desperate: “It’s not enough; I know it’s not enough. I want to give you enough. Son of a bitch, Sam - I want you to be - ”

“I’ll be okay. I’m just not right now. You’ve been there.”

“I’ve been there, and I’m never okay!” Gabriel was tired, he realized, despite how energized he had felt this morning; and the exhaustion was making him weak, giving him a headache, bringing tears to his own eyes. “And you’re not either, and I don’t know how to make that stop, and I hate that I don’t know what to do to help you. To really help you, to - to make you not feel like I feel every day. The idea of you going through that makes me want to scream and start throwing things at the wall. It makes me want to hurt something, Sam. Thinking about you, having to go deal with what I do - those memories of Asmodeus hurt like nothing else has ever hurt, and you’ve seen that, and - and watching it happen to you just slaughters me.”

“There’s no need for you to - ”

“To watch, right, whatever. I’m not saying it doesn’t suck to sit behind home plate. But what did I tell you it would do to me to step away and let you rot inside just for the sake of protecting me? That’s a special kind of torture, Sam. It’s every bit as heavy as the pain of being held prisoner and tormented and abused - losing who you are, or who you could have been - taught that you’re worthless, that you’re nothing but a freak, that you’re only good for what they can do to you - ”

“Easy, easy, calm down.” Sam rubbed his back. “Don’t worry so much about me, Gabriel. Of course it gets bad. Exhibit A, right? But this is just an off day, I promise.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth, although any effort to maintain control of himself had been wasted; and he hated that Sam had to see him like this when Sam was the one suffering, when Sam was the one who needed the chance to let go of what he felt so compelled to hide.

Voice hoarse, Gabriel said, “When it comes back to haunt you again and again - I mean yes, the present is what matters. But sometimes the memory feels like it’s part of the present, and … and I wish I could give you something different. Not just help, not just comfort. You deserve more than that.”

“So do you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel wanted to object, but he knew Sam would try to convince him otherwise. “You don’t belong to him. And the future you could’ve had doesn’t belong to him either. Whatever you wanted or needed or regretted or missed - he could play with it, but it was never his to keep.”

“Yeah, well … it doesn’t feel that way. Hey, listen, not to change the subject but - ”

“So don’t.”

“- I was wondering how you’ve been feeling lately. You’ve gone sort of quiet the last few days.”

“Quiet as in there’s been no encore since last week’s midnight performance?”

“You haven’t said much. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Gabriel looked away. There had been so many nightmares, so many instances of waking up sweaty and nauseated and confused and wanting Sam. But after that episode of rousing the entire bunker with frantic screams for help, he was determined to leave them all in peace. It was nothing short of miraculous that the previous night had brought no horrors to the surface. “Not right now.”

“Are you sure? After that last dream you had, you seemed to kind of shut down.”

“Nobody’s shutting down, compañero. A glitch here and there isn’t a big deal.”

Sam surveyed him. “All right. Just … let me know.”

Gabriel pushed himself to his feet. “I’m hydrating you. Per the Sam Winchester manual of rehabilitation. Wait here.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Nope, no, shut up and stay sitting. That’s an order, not a request.”

Gabriel moved to the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cabinet. He gazed down at it, reading the scratches and chips and smudges.

He gripped it tight.

It was then, leaning up against the sink, empty cup in hand, that Gabriel found himself sobbing uncontrollably.

He was anything but eager to dwell on the distant past. He knew that if he were to study an old version of himself, he would either grieve for what he could never be again or be forced to grapple with the notion that there had not been a time in which Gabriel was worth anything at all.

Despite this, he remembered how differently he’d felt all those years ago, before he’d really known Sam - and, perhaps, before he’d really known Lucifer. He remembered how simple it was to scrawl in the margins of another person’s destiny in order to smooth the edges of the bigger picture. He remembered that it made sense to push for resolution.

That Gabriel couldn’t have imagined a future stained with the kind of torture Asmodeus had put him through. That Gabriel couldn’t have recognized how Sam would help him deal with the aftermath, and that his ability to coax Gabriel out of his worst moments came partly from the atrocities of which that Gabriel couldn’t have imagined his own brother capable.

The Gabriel of today, the Gabriel of right now, was desperate not to believe that anybody could have broken Sam on purpose. Of course having a family member as the culprit added an element of disappointment and disgust, but not confusion. Gabriel had long been aware of Lucifer’s wickedness and appetite for violence.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter who had tortured Sam: that anyone had done so was too much for Gabriel to accept.

There was no stopping the tears, not at this point. Not after everything they had just discussed.

Gabriel was sick of tears. No matter how many times Sam insisted that there was nothing wrong with being fragile, Gabriel hated himself for his own weakness.

Now he would bring Sam the water, and Sam would be astonished by what had happened between Gabriel’s coming and going. Sam would try to soothe him, and Gabriel would allow it.

Sam was right: these stories were more than Gabriel could take on alone.

He wondered, filling Sam’s glass with trembling hands, if he could be there for Sam without Sam having to reciprocate.

Not yet, Gabriel suspected, and hoped that, before long, the answer would change.

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kang-yoochanie · 7 years ago

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How to survive high school (by a straight A and mentally ill high school graduate)

If this post isn't a way to show that through 4 years of high school I have SUCKED at titling things then I don't know what is.

Anyways, long-ass titles aside, this is a mini guide for kids about to go into grade 9, or any grade really, who want to prepare themselves or change themselves.

Cause boy do I know you change a lot through high school. Thank god.

Don’t expect this to be formal, or funny (unless you have my sense of humour in which case I think it’s fucking hilarious but that’s besides the point), but hopefully it will be helpful. (tip 1; long intros like this are useless 90% of the times, this time being part of that 90%)

1) Honestly you may as well just buy yourself two locks for your locker right away. Have one locking your locker, and the other on you or at home. My locks broke so many times, or I forgot what the combo was, I went through so many of those fucking things (except in grade 12, I just gave up and stopped using my locker even though that was against the rules at my school lmao)

2) Dressing nice can be fun and can be a way to motivate yourself to get up in the morning, but don’t stress about what others will think about how you’re dressed or how you look. By the end of the day everyone’s going to look like trash any ways, so don’t bother

3) Those guidance counsellors? Yea. Use ‘em. Even if they’re the worst people on the planet Earth, use them. They can help tell your teachers about your problems, or just give you a quiet place to sit for a bit.

4) DON’T STRESS ABOUT THE FUTURE. Everyone’s gonna say “you’re in grade 9, you better start thinking about what you wanna be” and they’ll say that every goddamn year. But let me tell you. I knew from grade 7 I wanted to go to art school. I really wanted to be an artist. I applied to an art school this year, I got into that art school this year, and I declined the offer. In my last few months of high school I changed my mind. I decided that I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted to do, so I chose a program that’s sort of like English. TLDR; people change their fucking minds. So don’t stress about it

5) Now this may differ from country to country but Universities and colleges don’t look at your grade 9 or 10 marks. They don’t give a shit if you got a 20% on a test in grade 9 (which I did lmao). They will only look at 11 and 12, and really they only look at your grade 11 marks for early acceptances. If you have shitty grade 11 marks but good grade 12 marks then you’re fine.

6) Speaking of Universities, apply to every single one that you can. I applied to something like 10 different schools/programs. Some of them I didn’t even know if I wanted to go into them. Some of them were incredibly hard to get into and I was sure I wasn’t going to get in. But I applied to everything that caught my interest, so that I could have doors open. (and, as it turns out, the program I’m going into was one of those last minute ‘i’m not sure if i’ll like this or not but it sounds kinda cool so I’ll apply’)

7) Learn new study habits. The jump between grade 8 and 9 (and 10 and 11 so rip your 10ers) is insane. It’s normal for grades to drop a bit (or a lot @ my multiple failed tests in gr 9 lmao) but just take it with grace and learn which way of studying works best for you. (protip: figure out if you’re an auditory, visual, or kinesthetic learner. If you’re 2, or like me and all 3 of them, then your just have to figure out which subject you learn best with which learning style. for example, in math I learn best by doing (kinesthetic) but I suck at learning math by seeing (visual), but in history I learn best by discussing and hearing (auditory) and seeing (visual), but if you make me act out history, write notes or anything like that I won’t learn shit.)

8) If you’re not a math or science person, don’t take them. Same goes for English, or any other subject. In my school system it was required for you to take english every year, so there was no getting out of that, but I could chose to stop taking math after grade 11, and science after grade 10. A lot of people associate being good at math and science as being “smart”, and I got a lot of comments that because I wasn’t taking them my studies were “easy”. And trust me, if you decide to not take them you’ll hear the same thing. But the thing is, you don’t need them. If you’re going into an English program, then why in the fucking world would you take Chemistry or math?? What’s the use of it? Once you know the basic skills in both subjects I say drop it, unless you need it or find it fun.

9) Speaking of not doing things that you can’t, each country has different terms for the “upper” level classes and the “lower” level classes. So I’ll be referring to them as just that. If you find that an “upper” level class goes too fast for you or you just aren’t learning from it, go to the lower level. Not all your classes have to be “upper” and not all have to be “lower”, it all depends on you. You’re not smarter for being in an “upper” level class, and you’re not dumber for being in a “lower” level class. It’s all based on styles of learning. That’s it. and 95% of the time, the two levels learn the same things, just at different paces and with different techniques.

10) If you have a mental illness, let your teachers know. Even if you don’t want to tell anyone. Even if you think it’s embarrassing. Trust me, telling your teachers will make your life 100% easier, a lot of them are very understanding. I had teachers who would let me leave the class with a friend at any point I felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. And when I went through my major depressive episodes and missed weeks of school, my teachers let me do work at home that was strictly in class work or let me delay tests or just skip units all together, and I often got extra time for everything. But if I hadn’t told them about my situation, I would have ended up being stuck and probably would have failed all my classes.

11) If someone offers you help, take it. ALWAYS ACCEPT HELP. Even if you have a stupid sense of pride (like me) and think you can do everything by yourself (like me) YOU CAN’T (like...you guessed it, me). Trust me, when a parent, teacher, or even sibling helps you with homework, or essays or studying, it just makes things easier.

12) Take notes. I know I said taking notes doesn’t always help me, or other people, but do it anyways. And not on your computer. Hand write your notes, even if you have the messiest fucking handwriting, just do it. It’s been proven that you’re more likely to retain information that you handwrite over notes on a computer or reading, no matter what your learning type is.

13) Don’t do things last minute. Don’t do your project last minute, or your essay, or study for a test. Cramming doesn’t work. Basically what I’m saying is manage your time properly. If you have 2 weeks to study for a test, take those two weeks. Don’t take just 10 hours the night before.

14) We’re almost done, don’t worry. Join extra curricular activities! HAVE A LIFE. Literally it’s one of my biggest regrets that I didn’t do more. If you aren’t a sports person, join clubs. If you aren’t a clubs person, join sports. If you’re neither, join student council or something. If you want access to everything (sports, clubs, etc) join Yearbook, it’s a great way to be involved while also hiding from everyone. But join things, make new friends. Have a life. It’ll make things SO much easier

15) Speaking of friends, don’t worry about them. You’re going to make new friends, lose friends and then repeat. You and everyone else change so much through high school it’s almost impossible to constantly have the exact same friend group. So don’t worry if you lose friends, you’re going to make new ones, I promise.

14) My last and most important point; GRADES DON’T MATTER. It’s a number (or letter) that is marking you on how you felt the day you were taking a test or doing a presentation. That’s all it is. It’s not testing your intelligence, it’s not something to compete over. It’s just a stupid little number. I’m not saying ignore it completely, still try to work hard to learn things, but don’t do it for the sole reason of getting a good grade. One of the biggest things I learned in my last two years of high school was that when I was stressed about my grades and studied for the only purpose of getting a 90%, and literally gave up my life to study, I often didn’t do well. Those are the times when I failed tests, and also the times where I barely was able to get an 80% average. But in 11 and 12 I decided to take it easy. I studied a little bit every second or third night, but I tried not to stress about it. On nights before tests I would limit myself and never stay up past midnight. I forced myself to not care about grades even though every little anxious bone in me told me to care. And I went from having an 80.2% average in grade 10, to an 88% in grade 11 and a 92.5% in grade 12 (i feel inclined to say it was 95% but I had two hard ass teachers second semester so uh yeah that sucked). SO DON’T STRESS. LET GO OF THE IMPORTANCE OF GRADES. RAISE YOUR MIDDLE FINGER TO THAT A. Just do the best you can and then continue to push yourself to do better. Do it because you want to, not because you want a higher grade.

I hope this was somewhat helpful. High school is what you make of it, it can be fun, or horrible, so try to have fun with it. I have a lot of good memories from it. The best piece of advice I can really give is just be aware that your life isn’t only school, and it doesn’t end after high school. (Also always buy your teachers christmas gifts or end of year gifts, they will love you and you will instantly become a favourite)

#if u guys want tips on how to be a teacher's fav student hmu #so many of my teachers loved me bc im good at sucking up #school #studyblr #school tips #high school #high school tips

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lizacstuff · 7 years ago

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7x02 Anons

I have a bunch of anon asks, many of which are a bit negative in tone, so I’m going to answer a smattering of them under the cut to protect those who don’t want to see it.

Anonymous said:So wasn’t enough captain swan but i’ll take it!

There is never enough Captain Swan for me, but this is about what I was expecting. This episode wasn’t about Emma. This episode was about Henry and the new characters and stories. It was to give us closure and let us know how things happened while at the same time trying to entice us to the new stories.

They are trying to move forward. I’m not really onboard, but I think it’s the right path if they want this to work.

Anonymous said:I loved what we got. But??? Adam and Eddie were able to get Jennifer for just one more episode and they only gave her THREE SCENES? Why? We should and could have gotten much more. I can’t believe they didn’t give us a scene of CS in their house with their little one. Or at least setting up a nusery with Emma showing a tad more. Something!

See what I wrote above, this wasn’t about them it’s about Henry. Killian and Emma appeared in order to serve Henry’s story. I get that you (and I) would have preferred if it was the Captain Swan hour, but except for the CS Movie we’ve never gotten that. We’ve always been given big (awesome) pieces and then had to fill in the details ourselves. This show is always plot, plot, plot. It’s never character, character, character. So this was no different than what has always happened.

And, hey, maybe they didn’t want to flash forward 7 months and show us Hook and Emma with the baby in case they want to use it in a series finale or something. You never know. in the meantime we have our imaginations and a very creative fandom.

Anonymous said:Yes, what we got was wonderful. But how stupid of Adam and Eddy not to use the full potential of having Jen back for an episode? It’s a waste! She got like 5 minutes total! And I will be forever gutted, and bitter, that we didn’t get to see CS find out they were pregnant. And I’m especially upset they didn’t show they in SB or at home with their baby. They could have given that to the audience if they’d bothered to utilise Jen fully for the one time they have her back.

You’re a real glass half empty kind of girl, aren’t you?

Honestly, for something that you’ve invested this much time in, isn’t it easier and more fulfilling to be happy with the “wonderful” that we did get, instead of bitter about what we didn’t? It’s your choice, but to me it seems like an easy one.

Anonymous said:Looks like A&E lied yet again ….. they said that Emma was in “ ALOT “ Of this episode …… I guess they count mentioning her name 50 times and giving her 2 scenes 🙄

While what we got was just about exactly what I expected, yes, Adam stretched the truth once again. Oh Adam, you and Eddy and your semantics do make it easier to quit you.

Anonymous said:I’m glad that cs got their HE, but really? Wish hook? And with a daughter? I wanted to see Emma and Killian’s baby not a random girl

Then this reboot is probably not for you. That’s okay. Lots of TV shows are not for me. I’m pretty sure many of us would have preferred to see a show about Emma and Kilian’s baby, but JMo isn’t on the show anymore. Emma is no longer the protagonist and would you really want to see a CS baby without Emma? Would you really risk Captain Swan in order to have some random storyline on this mess of a S7?

I’m flabbergasted that anyone would care enough about S7 to want them to jeopardize Captain Swan.

I’m good with them riding back into the Storybrooke sunset together and off of this show altogether.

Anonymous said:It’s me or even the quality of the editing is getting worse? The script it was is it, but even now with how fast the scenes goes from one to another and how bad are some of the new actors it’s like everything get worse

Hmmm… I didn’t notice the editing. I think you may be reacting to the overall pacing, they are still all plot, plot, plot and try to cram too much into every episode.

As far as the actors, I thought Gabrielle Anwar was the least of the issues in the first ep, but in this one… oh my. As @counttotwenty said to me, she should be twirling a mustache with every word she utters and @doddplaza compared her to Snidely Whiplash. It’s so broad and cartoonish that it’s bad. Both the writing for her and the acting.

Anonymous said:I think the audience will be really grossed out at this other Hook having another love interest. Sure it’s not THE Hook, but it’s the same actor and he looks exactly like the other one, it’s going to be extremely hard to dissociate him from the real one. There’s no way I’ll be watching any of that. And Colin is going to be excited about it and yeah, I have no time for that. I hope it gets canceled before we reach that part or Colin has the chance to hyperventilate about it on twitter.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. First off when has Colin ever hyperventilated on twitter? Other than using a few too many exclamation points he’s incredibly low-key and usually just retweets stuff. He was on the promotion train for S7 during the cons this summer because its his job. It’s a requirement. Cut him some slack.

As for the love interesting, I agree. I think putting Colin on screen with any other woman this season would be a huge mistake. Even though he’s a totally different character (a fake person really) I don’t think the audience is ready. However… do A&E know that? I don’t know.

What I do know is I won’t watch a second of it, so if it happens it doesn’t matter to me.

Anonymous said:I am 100 percent thankful they didn’t muck up captain swan but I feel like the undercut Killian becoming a dad for the first time by making wish world Hook a dad already. Also I thought Adam and Eddy said wish world was not real? How does WWH know Tremaine etc ? This show is a hot mess

Hmmm… WishHook must have found a way to leave the WishRealm and ran into Tremaine? No idea. I’m certain they are going to be fifty-eleven-thousand plot holes in this thing.

Here’s the thing.. do I think it’s stupid? Hell yes. But I don’t think they should have done any of this AT ALL. It was too soon for a reboot and they shouldn’t have drug characters from the original into it. However, that train has left the station so I’m just left feeling gratified that they found a way to not ruin Captain Swan or Killian Jones. So… while I think the WishHook thing is stupid and does not remotely match up with what we were lead to believe that WishReal was (a twisted up EQ/Genie version that was all fake) I’m not gonna put up a fight like I care. Because when it comes to this show I only care about Captain Swan.

Anonymous said:I’m so happy emma and hook are happy but it makes me sick that Rogers is going to go off with some other woman and we are probably going to see their kid. I won’t even be watching but… I thought I’d be over the moon about Emma and hook and I am, honestly I am, but I feel like my emotions are all over the place and I can’t seem to get past my feelings about seeing Rogers with another woman. I don’t know. Sorry to both you I just dot have anyone to talk to and I’m crying a lot so.

Honey, I don’t think there is any reason to be this upset. WishHook and Killian are different people. They are not the same and no one is forcing you to watch WishHook do anything. Let the show go, don’t let it ruin Captain Swan for you. They’ve done this to preserve Captain Swan, so take it at face value. Nothing they do in S7 matters. Seriously.

Anonymous said:I still think it’s ridiculous this show even had another season without so many main characters, but hats off to the writers for what they came up to keep CS intact. I feel like a very lucky CSer right now because this could have been a total disaster and they managed to keep CS, Emma and Killian untouched. I’m not here to see any version of Hook/Colin acting romantically with other women (yuck) so I’m out from now on, but I’m at peace with where they left CS. THANK GOD

Agreed on all of it.

Anonymous said:this was an emotional curtain call? god they really become terrible writers

I have to say that might be one of the lesser Jane episodes. I mean there were some things that were deftly done, like having Hook and Emma able to go home, but not have it appear they were abandoning Henry. They threaded the needle on that pretty well, but some stuff was so heavy handed.

I can NOT believe for Shoe Believer that they had two people observe “Are you in love with her?” after observing Henry doing nothing for two seconds.

Really?

That’s how unsubtle things are going to be from here on out? That line twice in the second episode before the audience has even gotten to know these characters? For really no reason? Wowza. Talk about trying to force a ship. That was bad.

Victoria Belfrey’s and Lady Tremaine’s writing was ridiculous. It is so broad and over the top, but as @counttotwenty said to me this morning, the show is taking itself so seriously.

(And again, Colin, the best OUAT scripts you ever read? Oh honey. That observation is not holding up)

Anonymous said:I’m seeing Hooked Queen gifs now. Really hoping A & E don’t go down that route! Or that the child is theirs. The horror!!!! Don’t think I could bare it. But in terms of CS I think that’s the best we’re going to get and I’m happy Emma gets a second chance (an addition not a replacement) like Snow did. Just imagine the cute adventures this little pirate will have with those two as parents :)

Okay the idea of Hooked Queen makes me want to vomit, so please don’t send me asks about it. I’ll ignore them or possibly block you. Seriously. It doesn’t mean I think it will happen, it just means I don’t even want to think about it. However, I do want to address your speculation that the child could be theirs. Come on. You don’t think there would have been a flicker of recognition when they just teamed up this episode with WishHook talking about finding his daughter. I can’t remember how the WishAU disposed of Regina, but I think we can rest easy on that she’s not the mother. Good grief.

Anonymous said:that know it all anon of yours from earlier certainly has egg on their face now.

She never came back to apologize for telling people who believed that was not our Hook in the sneak peek to use logic!

I never come after anyone just because their spec is wrong, but don’t come into my ibox and insult others who have different and (ultimately correct) speculation. It’s rude.

Anonymous said:The way they’ve set this up though - they’re kinda asking Emma and Hook fans to leave, when they need to desperately keep as many viewers as they can. Because if Rogers was the real Hook and he’s obviously not with Emma and his real child, people would still be invested in him as the character they’ve always known. But now, all those fans can literally leave and not miss anything! Colin is great and all but they’re selling people a whole new character and now that’s another strike against S7.

Thank GOD they didn’t do this. I know it would have been better for investment of fans, but the idea of Killian and Emma separated when we know JMo will never appear again to wrap it up? That sound fucking awful.

So, yes, they are risking fans of CS leaving after getting the happily ever after confirmation, but if the show doesn’t stand on it’s own, it doesn’t stand. Every new show has to debut and find it’s audience, so does this one. Honestly, I’m thrilled they’re not risking destroying CS just for a few more eyeballs. They have a bit of integrity left.

Anonymous said:I wonder how pissed the shippers are that Emma and Queen Queen didn’t speak or touch? Or that Jen and Lana didn’t even film together?

I’m guessing they are not happy. But they are so upset about the CS child and *gasp* adult Henry trying to woo a lady without both his Mommies there to change his diapers I’m not sure how much they have focused on the lackluster goodbye.

Like Lana and JMo, Emma and Regina aren’t really friends. They are frenemies who are related and know they have to get along for the sake of Henry and Snow and sometimes team up to prevent evil. Period.

Anonymous said:Im with you Liza. I cared only that CS got their happy ending and ended in a safe place. Henry is part of that but I can assume he’ll make it back home someday just fine. Hes an adult who makes his own decisions. Im actually grateful to A&E. They gave me an exit strategy from OUAT. I get to take it knowing my beloved characters are in a beautiful safe place. I cant ask for more w/ JMo’s exit. I hope we might get a peek into their lives in a series finale but if this was it, Im ok. Im happy too.

Me too! I hope in the series finale we get a peak into their lives. Time will tell!

Anonymous said:I couldn’t agree with you more. CS is happy and alive and together and pregnant. As far as I’m concerned nothing else happened on the show. I can walk away happy and live in fanfic and Colin/Jen cons.

Long live the fandom!

There are all sorts of Storybrooke important questions to explore, for instance do Killian and David go out sailing? Have Snowing had more children? Who’s the big spoon… Killian or Emma?

Anonymous said:A strange episode but a good one for me! I was looking for peace after JMo said she was leaving. The reason I cont w/ OUAT was b/c of CS alone. They got their happy ending. Shes w/ her parents, husband & kid, and her adult son is living his life away from the nest as all children do. I can watch the first six seasons in good faith, finish w/ 7.02 and let the rest go. It a blessing of a goodbye to OUAT for me as I was always done after tonight. The true Killian and Emma are happy and so I am too.

It was a strange episode, I don’t see me really ever rewatching it, but Killian and Emma going through that portal is all that matters. I’ll enjoy the gifs of their scenes for a long time to come.

#captain swan #ouat negativity #not all the asks are negative #ouat s7 #asklizac #anonymous #ouat 7.02

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crimsxnflxwerz · 7 years ago

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Don’t Want it Troubling Your Mind [bfu fic] -chapter 2

Don’t Want it Troubling Your Mind Fandom: buzzfeed unsolved Pairing: Shane Madej/Ryan Bergara; Shane Madej & Ryan Bergara Summary: Shane Madej really liked Ryan Bergara. He was funny, a joy to mess with, and took his brand of teasing pretty well. He would consider him a friend, kind of. But when the team goes to investigate the Franklin Castle for ghosts, Shane gets more than he bargained for, and the results could cost him his friendship with Ryan. Rating: teen Warnings: Demonic Possession, Existential Crisis, Complicated Relationships Authors note: This is a repost from Archive for people who don’t like Archive/prefer tumblr/etc. sup guys.

When Shane woke, it was to gentle light filtering through the dirty windows, illuminating dust particles in the air and giving the entire room an ethereal feeling. In the quiet morning, Shane turned over in his sleeping bag so he could face towards Ryan, mostly to see if the other man was awake.

Ryan was curled up in his sleeping bag, his hair sticking up in odd directions, his mouth slightly open in a silent snore. Honestly, Shane thought it was kind of cute. Ryan no doubt exhausted himself yesterday, if not physically, then mentally. Sometimes he didn’t understand why the man would put himself through this kind of stress if he was so afraid of it. It couldn’t possibly be good for your health.

Shane rolled back over, hoping to get a few more winks of sleep before the others woke and started packing it up.

“Hello,” a whispery voice greeted. Shane’s eyes went wide. Was someone… talking to him? He bolted into a sitting position, looking around frantically. The cameramen had gone to sleep in the car this time, so it was just him and Ryan in the house. No one was in the room with them.

“Hello,” it came again, and now he could tell that the voice was coming from inside his own head. “What is your name?”

Shane glanced over at Ryan, just to be sure this wasn’t some kind of elaborate prank for all the times he teased the man, or something else easily explainable. When no one jumped out at him shouting prank’d!, he furrowed his brow in worry.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me, I know who you are, Shane,” the voice said. Whoever it was, their voice was deep, and smooth. Textured like honey, dark and thick. He couldn’t tell if it was malignant or not. At least not yet. “Shane Madej. It’s a nice name, rolls right off the tongue.”

‘Who are you?’ Shane finally replied in his head. Maybe this was all just a weird dream, and if he played along, then it would end faster. Even though that wouldn’t make much sense, a man could hope.

“My name is Anael.” It said. “A long time ago, I was summoned to the basement of this place. I’ve been here ever since.”

Shane let that information sink in. He recalled the image of the carving in his mind.

“Ah yes, that is my sigil,” Anael said, responding to the thought like Shane had handed it a photograph. “Those who summoned me had not realized that I would actually arrive. Much like yourself, they also did not truly believe in the dimensions beyond. It was quite a shock for them to witness me.”

‘Wait, so what are you exactly?’ Shane asked, laying back down in his sleeping bag. ‘And why can only I hear you? Wouldn’t you have more fun freaking out my buddy over there?’

“Ah, you mean Ryan Bergara?” Anael said, without hesitation. “Well, you see, I’m a demon. I’ve lived for hundreds of thousands of years and scaring people who are easily scared… it can be fun for a little while, but it gets repetitive. I can probably guess what your friend would do if I spoke to him. His kind of character isn’t so special anymore.”

‘But I’m somehow special?’ Shane asked. He was honestly curious now. If this was a dream, it was very elaborate. He wondered if he should invest in a dream journal. ‘I don’t think I’m much different than Ryan. I have irrational fears just like him.’

“Ah, you see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Anael said. “You don’t believe that I’m real, even as we converse right now. You think I’m just a product of your exhausted mind. I can assure you, I am not a figment of your imagination.”

‘Sounds like something a figment of my imagination would say.’ Shane though, humorously. Though, as he heard the demon sigh, he also felt himself repeat the action. He put a hand on his chest, and concentrated on his breathing for a few moments. Did he just sigh? Did the demon make him sigh at his own joke?

“Do you believe me now?” Anael asked. There was a ring of confidence in its tone, as if it had already won him over. Shane rolled his eyes.

‘Like that, something that could have easily just been a coincidence, could prove that you’re real.’ Shane scoffed. ‘Also, one of my rules is that it can’t be something only I experience. What if you’re just a crazy delusion my mind conjured up? I haven’t been sleeping that well recently, maybe that’s it.’

After he said this, the voice mysteriously stopped. He looked over to the window, and saw that it was getting brighter and brighter outside. He checked his phone. 6:20 am. Maybe he should wake Ryan. He turned over to look at his friend once again, but Ryan had flipped over in his sleep and wasn’t facing him anymore. Wow, now he couldn’t even make fun of Ryan’s sleeping face.

He closed his eyes, and drifted off.

When he awoke once again, it was to his shoulder being shaken.

“C’mon Shane. Wakey, wakey. Let’s go!” Ryan said. He grinned down at Shane, dressed and ready to leave. Shane blinked sleepily.

“What time is it?” he asked. His hand stretched out in blind search of his phone.

“It’s 7:30! C’mon, we gotta film the outro.” Ryan insisted. “Oh, I heard there was a really good breakfast place nearby, you like waffles, right?”

They filmed the outro, packed everything up, and all got into the car. They stopped at a breakfast place and all crammed into a booth. After a few cups of coffee, the dead feeling seemed to lift off of Shane, and he finally felt more awake.

“What did you think of the house?” One of the camera guys, Steve, said. “I thought it was freaky.”

“Oh yeah,” said the other camera guy, David. “Imagine living there.”

Ryan scratched the side of his head nervously. “It was really freaky there. I’m glad we’re finally out.” He paused, his eyes downcast. “I felt some really weird stuff in there. Like someone was always watching me. No matter where I was in the house.”

“Maybe you’re just paranoid,” Shane said, a small smile on his face. He sipped his coffee and Ryan glared at him, but his eyes held no heat. “Actually, I did actually feel a little freaked out there, too. Especially in the basement.”

Shane considered sharing his story about being visited by a demon, but backtracked and decided that some things are better left to himself. If the demon truly was just a dream, then maybe it wasn’t even worth mentioning. Although, he has got to admit, he’s never been able to recall a dream as vividly as this. It was almost like a demon had actually spoken to him.

How crazy would that have been?

“Is that why you acted so freaked out down there?” Ryan asked. He acted chill, but Shane could tell he was still seriously concerned about what happened. Shane didn’t have a reputation for taking mental health days, so if it wasn’t ghosts, it could easily be stress.

“Yeah, just all around bad vibes down there,” Shane said. “Or maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me.”

“Yeah, cause food sickness makes you stand completely still and creepily stare at your hands.” Ryan agreed sarcastically.

“Hey, no one really knows what’s in those Egg McMuffins.” Shane joked. The group laughed together, but he could tell that Ryan still hadn’t completely let it go.

After breakfast, Shane and Ryan met back at the office. They discussed where to go next, and who was gonna pick the questions to answer about the newest episode.

Shane enjoyed these moments. Just chatting about their plans, no cameras around to tell them how to act. Don’t get it wrong, Shane loved acting and thought all the projects he did at Buzzfeed were fun and interesting. No doubt he loved his job, but he also loved just existing. Like everyone, he got a little stressed being on set for an extended period.

“Want to watch a movie at my place later? We can make popcorn.” Ryan suggested.

“Heck yeah, dude.” Shane said. “What we watchin’?”

“I dunno yet, but I heard about this one show...” Ryan continued talking, Shane eagerly listening. They made some quick notes about their next episode, before leaving the office behind.

“See you around six?” Ryan asked and they walked together into the parking lot.

“Yeah sure.” Shane agreed, clapping a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “Should I bring drinks?”

Ryan nodded, fishing in his pocket for his car keys. He pulled them out of his pocket, but as he did it, his wallet fell out onto the ground.

“I got it,” Shane and Ryan said together, and reached down to grab it at the same time. Shane’s hand ended up on the wallet, Ryan’s hand on top of Shane’s. They awkwardly pulled away after, each avoiding the others gaze in embarrassment.

“Uhhh, haha, here ya go,” Shane said, handing over the wallet.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Ryan said, scratching behind his ear.

“So... see you at six?” Shane asked, just in case Ryan had changed his mind.

“Y-yeah.” Ryan said. “Of course.”

“See you then.”

“See you.”

They parted ways and each got in their own cars. As soon as Shane found himself in his car, he gave a deep sigh. It had been a long day, anyone would be embarrassed by that, right?

“Well, I would be embarrassed too if I accidentally grabbed someone’s hand.” A voice said. “It does tend to get awkward, especially if it was unexpected.”

Shane nearly bolted from his car at the unexpected noise. Looking frantically around, there was no one else there but him. He gripped his steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

Maybe he really was exhausted. Maybe the shoot messed up his sleep cycles. Maybe he needed to take a nap before going to Ryan’s tonight.

“Did you already forget about me?” The voice said, sounding a little pompous now. “Or did you think I would stay in the house? Thought you could just get rid of me?”

Shane bit down on his lip hard enough for it to hurt. He started the engine of his car.

‘It’s not real. It’s not real.’ Shane said to himself. ‘Just ignore it. Just ignore the voice. You’re not crazy.’

“I’m right here, Shane.” The voice said again, but this time it was clearer. He felt a presence in the passenger seat, and quickly turned to face it. In the passenger’s seat was a shadowy figure. It seemed to take the basic shape of a human, though parts of it moved like a living shadow or a massive swarm of bees. Its face was masculine, when it was visible. A pair of piercing yellow eyes were distinguishable from the rest.

Shane suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time again. He wanted to open his car door and run away screaming, but he swallowed that fear and stood his ground.

“Oh god, who the fuck are you?” He managed to croak. “Or what the fuck? I don’t fucking know.”

“Anael, don’t you remember, boy?” It said. It was the same voice from his dream. He wasn't still dreaming, was he? Or maybe he’d fallen asleep again at some point?

“You are not real,” Shane said. “I am just hallucinating right now, because I need more sleep.”

“You know that you can only lie to yourself for so long.” Anael said. “I’m still going to be here.”

Shane sighed and clenched his teeth. “Why me?” He muttered. “Because I’m the skeptic, right? I’m that one woman who can sing really well in Elf that needs to be convinced that Santa’s real?”

The demon apparently had no sense of humor, because it didn’t laugh. Shane was mildly offended. His jokes were funny, damnit. Where was Ryan when he needed him?

“Ryan’s probably almost home by now,” Anael said, having read his thoughts. “Why didn’t you just go over with him?”

“Are you seriously just here to judge me on my plans with my friends?” Shane asked, exacerbated. He buckled his seat belt and started driving.

“No, of course not,” Anael said. “But since you love hanging out with him, then why not go home with him?”

Shane was silent for a second. A whole second. The longest second of his life, actually. He considered what the demon had said. Really thought about it.

“So, what kind of demon are you again?” Shane asked. “I don’t know shit about demons. I’m just curious.”

Anael was curiously quietly. Shane came to a red light, and took the opportunity to look to the passenger’s seat. The demon was more human than before, taking on the shape of a man probably around his age. Shane could just make out the edge of his jaw, the dark curve of his lips, and the column of his neck.

“I am Anael, demon of lust and longing.” Anael said finally. Shane looked back to the road in time for the light to turn green. He felt the atmosphere in the car change.

“Lust demon, eh?” He laughed. It was a nervous, cautious thing. “Tryin’ to set me up with Ryan, then?”

“Clever, boy,” Anael admitted. “I feed on sexual energy and feelings.”

Shane coughed. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just settled for blushing lightly in embarrassment.

“You know you’re not supposed to tell me your plan if you want it to work, right?” Shane said. Or maybe that was wishes on shooting stars? “Also, you’re basically shit outta luck, buddy. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for Ryan.”

The demon grinned then, impossibly, within the smoky abyss of its face. It teeth were clear as day. Sharp, gleaming menacingly.

“If you recall, I did say I was a demon of lust.” Its voice was gravelly now. It made Shane’s blood go cold. “Humans are so easy to manipulate. Everyone wants something. It’s as natural a batting your eyes, the way humans crave things. We’ll see who wants what in time.”

And with that, Anael was gone. Although, he could tell it wasn't truly gone. It wasn’t ever truly gone. Anael was watching, waiting- Shane shivered at the thought. Did it really want to force Ryan and him to—

Why him? Why couldn’t it attach itself to any other person. He bet there were plenty of people who wouldn't mind a demon watching them while they got frisky with their actual partner. It was probably some kind of kink, even. Maybe he could look it up later and let the demon know.

Like sure, Ryan was cute, he’ll give him that. With his nice laugh and casual fashion and small stature. Shane also thought puppies were cute, but he didn't want to fuck any puppies.

Although, he could see where the demon was coming from. Maybe he was one of those fuck boys who thought that Shane was just “hiding” his true nature or that he needed to be “fixed”. He remembered when he told his mother that he was taking a break from dating. He had meant to explain that it was too exhausting for him. He wasn't the most empathetic person, and dating involved a level of dedication that he couldn’t put in at the moment. In her head his mother heard, however, that her son was giving up on love altogether. And she just frowned sadly, patted his shoulder, and told him that he’d ‘find someone eventually’. It was tiring, to say the least, to say something and have people interpret it as something else. Why couldn’t people just take his word for it?

Shane just didn’t feel the need to date like other people. Dating, hook-ups, what have you, he didn’t want any of it. Just a job, a place, some friends. Was that really so hard to understand?

It wasn't long after that, that he pulled into his apartment building lot. His phone buzzed. Stepping out of the car, he checked it to find a text.

Ryan: Documentary on aliens or Bigfoot?

Shane walked up to the apartment building and up to the elevator. He texted back while waiting.

Shane: what about that one Scooby Doo movie? You know, the weird live action one?

He got in the elevator. Someone was in there, but they didn't get out. Which was weird, because they didn’t have a basement, and who would ride to the bottom to just go back up? Shane nodded at them anyways in greeting. They stared blankly ahead, not even bothering to acknowledge him. How rude.

He shook it off though, and pressed the button for his floor.

“Floor?” He asked. The person remained mute. After an awkward moment of silence, he let the question drop. Maybe they were on the same floor as him.

His phone buzzed.

Ryan: lol but we already watched that.

The elevator dinged as it moved past each floor. He refused to look back at the weirdo again. His heart sped up a little in his chest. He thought about the murder mystery they went over about the guy getting tortured to death in a hotel. His apartment complex wasn’t a hotel, but still.

Shane: what about mothman? There a documentary on that guy?

The doors opened at his floor, and as he stepped into the hall, he looked back.

No one was there.

Shane scrambled for his phone and hurried to his room.

Shane: Ryan can I come over sooner than we planned?

He unlocked his door and went in, slamming it shut and utilizing every lock. The rational part of his brain screamed that a locked door won’t keep out the devil.

He crossed through his messy living room and into his bedroom. Without thinking, he threw a pair of clothes into a duffel bag with some other things and zipped it up. Tossing it over his shoulder, he received another text. It was from an unknown number.

???: do not leave do not lea v do no tleav e do

Shane shoved his phone into his pocket and practically ran from his apartment. Ditching the elevator, he went down the steps as fast as he could and dashed out to his car. A chill ran up his spine as he tossed his bag in the passenger’s seat. Once he was behind the wheel, he looked forward through his windshield and saw the person from the elevator standing near the front door.

His heart pounded as he pealed out of the lot. His phone went off a few times. He ignored it.

He was in the driveway of Ryan’s townhouse before he knew it. After he killed the engine, he simply took a moment and sat there. His heart was beating a mile a minute against his chest. He was scared for his life. He felt like he was about to puke.

He checked his phone.

Ryan: Ohh, mothman? He’s just cryptic, evil batman.

Ryan: Yeah sure, man. Something wrong?

Ryan: Shane?

Ryan: ???

Shane figured he might as well just go up and knock. Why text him when he was sitting in the man’s driveway. A hot coal sat in his stomach. A tight, heavy coil of fear and nerves. He opened the car door, grabbed his bag, and stepped out.

Before he could make it to the door, however, it opened for him. Ryan stood in his way, a surprised look on his face. It quickly turned to worry, however, especially when he noticed the duffle bag at Shane’s side.

“Dude, what happened?” He asked. He crossed his arms. Shane could still feel his body vibrating from fear and adrenaline. He closed his eyes for a long moment, drew in a sigh, and let it out slow.

“The last place we went to...” he hesitated. He didn’t want to freak out Ryan. He wouldn’t wish this feeling on his worst enemy. “It sort of freaked me out. I don’t want to be a bother though, if you really don’t want me here.”

Ryan shook his head. “No, no, no, come on in, dude. We can make popcorn, I’ve got soda. It’ll be chill.” He gestured to the bag. “Are you staying over?”

“Again,” Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “If it’s too much of a bother, or if you had plans, I could just go back home...”

“No, seriously,” Ryan said. He stepped aside for Shane to come in. “Just come in. I’ll start the popcorn.”

Shane gave a big smile and sheepishly made his way inside. The townhouse was two levels: living space on the main floor, bedrooms upstairs. It was a mostly open floor plan, the walkway blending into the kitchen blending into the living room. Behind the couch was a staircase. He dropped his bag next to the couch and meandered to the stove where Ryan was pouring some popcorn kernels and oil into a pan.

“So, anything in particular freak you out?” Ryan asked. He turned the burner on and leaned against the counter.

“The basement,” he said before he could stop himself. “Not that i believe in ghosts or whatever, but that was a freaky basement. I can see a horrible man hanging his daughter there.”

“Yeah, when you freaked out down there I swore you were pulling my leg,” he said. “But you weren’t?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think it was exhaustion. Sometimes, you just shut down, you know?” Shane said. He must’ve looked nervous though, since then Ryan reached out and gently grabbed his arm.

“Hey, if you ever do see something, and you’re scared,” Ryan said, “It’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.”

There was a moment, with Ryan’s hand on his arm, that he felt so grounded. Like he was a balloon, and Ryan was the weight, keeping him tethered to the Earth. He felt himself relax so quickly in Ryan’s presence. Now that he thought about it, why did he go to Ryan? Was is because they already had plans? Maybe because they had both be chilled in that house? Or maybe it was something more, something deep in his bones, that told him to go to Ryan. Something that was trying to push him closer to Ryan. He feared that it was the demon’s influence. Even though, deep down, Shane still didn’t believe that the demon was entirely real. He could have made it all up. Finally broken down after all those sleepless nights, all those ghost stories rubbing off on him.

“Yeah, I know,” Shane said, smiling softly. “Thanks. I promise to tell you if somethings wrong, okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan smiled back, then turned his attention to the stove when the kernels started popping.

As the scent of popped corn wafted through the kitchen, they chatted about mothman, and if he was just a collective scapegoat that the city blamed instead of believing whatever really happened. They laughed, simply enjoying each other’s company. They divided the snack into two bowls and seasoned them to their liking. When Ryan left to go put the movie on the television, Shane stayed behind for a moment, watching his friend’s back as he walked away. His smile fell a little.

“Don’t you want this?” a voice said, very quietly, in the back of his head. He blinked, hesitant, his chest felt a little weird. After a moment, he went to go join Ryan on the couch.

‘I don’t know.’

#bfu fic #shyan #my fic #buzzfeed unsolved #nice #me #repost

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thejpfdude-blog · 7 years ago

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The Spring 2017 Shows Awards

Hello friends and welcome to the annual INSERT SEASON HERE Shows Awards! It’s the end of a season, which means it’s time to look back at just why this season was so bad. Just kidding, except only partially.

Before I get into the rankings and awards, I want to talk a little about this season. If there’s one word to describe the season, it’s underwhelming. Not that that means it was a bad season, but that it just felt... unmemorable. None of the shows here caught my attention, and I feel like a few months from now I’m gonna forget about most, if not all of them. They aren’t bad (otherwise I would’ve dropped them), just something about them doesn’t resonate with me. We’ll see if the two shows below that are 2-cour get better as time goes on, but for the others gg.

Anyway, let’s start off this thing with the rankings as always, featuring the least amount of shows I’ve watched since I started watching anime seasonally:

Rankings:

1. Tsuki ga Kirei (7/10)

2. Ani ni Tsukeru Kusuri wa Nai (7/10)

3. Boku no Hero Academia 2nd Season (7/10 ONGOING)

4. Sakura Quest (7/10 ONGOING)

5. Aggressive Retsuko (7/10 ON HOLD)

6. Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata ♭ (6/10)

Awards:

Best Anime: Tsuki ga Kirei (HM: Ani ni Tsukeru Kusuri wa Nai)

Out of all of the seasons of anime I watched, this was the hardest season to determine a AOTS. On the one hand you have one of the best romance shows to come out in a while, and on the other hand you have one of the best shorts I’ve watched in a while. I flipped back and forth while writing this post, but in the end the romance edged out the short, and it’s because... well I mentioned it a sentence ago. Tsuki ga Kirei is probably one of the better pure romances to come out recently, and it does it by pure execution. Storywise it’s the tale of two lovers meeting and the scenes during their time in their final year of middle school; in other words, not an amazing plot. But who cares about the plot when you get an established couple by episode 3, a kiss by episode 6 (or so), and a canon ending with them together! Like, that’s some pretty rare stuff in anime. Gotta cherish it while you have it. The reason why I don’t have this rated higher is that even with the nice romance, the characters themselves were super forgettable. Even now I’ve already forgotten most of the stuff from the show. So yeah, that’s really the one thing that this show didn’t have for me: impact. Sure, those final scenes in episode 12 were some good stuff, but woulda been nice if it was longer (or at least not crammed into a 2 minute montage). Still, it was a nice watch at the time.

Shoutout to the short above whose name I still don’t know off the top of my head. It was a nice little story with cute art and funny antics. And also some romance. And the best part is it didn’t drag on for a million episodes unlike a certain short whose name is...

Worst Anime: Nobunaga no Shinobi S2

Wow that transition was smooth as a baby. Yeah, I technically dropped this show, but I don’t like putting Saekano S2 as my worst show of the season when I at least enjoyed some of it, which is more than I can say about this show. It’s unfortunate really: when it first aired I loved the comedy and the artstyle was pretty cute. But as more episodes aired, the jokes didn’t change and got stale, they introduced characters that were annoying and eventually there were too many of them to keep track of, leaving me confused and saying “who was this dude again?”. I started to dread watching it, so I just ended up dropping the show about a few weeks ago. I will say though if this show ends next season (can’t be this season because apparently episode 14 came out), I might watch the rest of it, seeing as it’s only 3 minutes per episode. But no more: once I stopped watching it I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Truly, bad anime is bad.

Best Surprise: Tsuki ga Kirei (HM: Ani ni Tsukeru Kusuri wa Nai)

Well would you look at that: same order as the AOTS category. Yeah, I don’t think I expected anything from Tsuki ga Kirei coming into the season. Even going into the season too: I dropped the show around 2 episodes in because there was no couple and I found it boring AF. I picked it up again after hearing there was an established couple, and haven’t looked back since. If that’s not a surprise, I don’t know what is.

Shoutout to the short above for not even being in my radar until a friend of mine pointed it out. Thank you friend who shall not be named.

Worst Disappointment: Saekano S2 (HM: Sakura Quest kinda)

I mean I wouldn’t say I didn’t expect it, but it’s still kinda disappointing nevertheless. Seeing as how I heard Saekano would turn up the drama in season 2, I was expecting drama. Just... not Oregairu S2 levels of drama. Everything I liked from the first season was de-emphasized for the drama, and it left a show that while most people enjoyed, I didn’t enjoy much. Well, happens.

Shoutout to a show that most people thought would be akin to Shirobako but hasn’t shown much in its first cour.

Best Girl: Megumi Katou (Saekano S2) with HM to all the wonderful girls in Boku no Hero Academia S2

Even with all of the shenanigans that happened in the show, Megumi still ended up being my favorite character of the season. Her relaxed mannerisms juxtaposed with the trope-y characters made her stand out more, funny considering she’s the laconic type.

Shoutouts to literally all of the girls of BnHA. They all have their different quirks, both power-wise and personality-wise, that make the show fun to watch when it isn’t focused on the power of friendship and stuff.

Best Guy: Tokoyami Fumikage (Boku no Hero Academia S2) with HM to all the wonderful guys in the same show

I mean there were at least 5 different characters from BnHA I could’ve chosen for this, but I like Tokoyami’s calm personality. Plus his power’s pretty frickin awesome. But yeah, I coulda chosen anyone from BnHA because similar to what I said above, their quirks make the show fun.

Worst Girl: The one glasses girl from Renai Boukun

I really had to reach for this category and the next one, because I didn’t watch much shows and I couldn’t think of a girl I could definitively say was the worst. So I went into my dropped shows and got the sole reason I dropped the show above. Mini-shoutouts to literally every girl from Eromanga-sensei: I would give them the award, but I didn’t even watch an episode of the show so it didn’t feel fair.

Worst Guy: That one general dude from Nobunaga no Shinobi S2

Similarly to above, here’s one of the main reasons why I dropped my worst show of the season.

Best OP: Don’t (Warau Salesman New) with HM to Hitorigoto (Eromanga-sensei), Peace Sign (Boku no Hero Academia S2), and Morning Glory (Sakura Quest)

From a show I didn’t even give a chance towards comes the best ED of the season. The song’s hippin and boppin and the visuals are top notch as well.

Shoutouts to Hitorigoto (even though the show sucks, the OP’s song is great), Peace Sign (a song that grew on me with hype visuals to warm you up nicely for the episode), and Morning Glory (a fun song with visuals taking you through the life of the five girls).

Best ED: Freesia (Sakura Quest) with HM to adrenaline!!! (Eromanga-sensei) and Dakara, Hitori Janai (Boku no Hero Academia S2)

Hands down, Freesia had the best ED of the season. The song is top notch and the visuals are pretty to look at.

Shoutouts to adrenaline (again, show sucks but the ED was catchy and fine I guess the dancing was cute) and Dakara, Hitori Janai (featuring the girls of class 1-A with a song that grew on me as the season went on).

BONUS AWARDS

The TheJPFDude Happy Show of the Season: Tsuki ga Kirei

The only bonus award this season (because nothing else stood out), Tsuki ga Kirei gets the award for happiest show for being a nice pure romance with some classic romance scenes. Not to mention the great ending putting a nice touch to a show most would say is a romance classic.

And that’s all for this season’s awards! Not much to talk about honestly, but at least next season looks promising. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you in the next post!

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huntertales · 8 years ago

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Part One: Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years? (The End S05E04)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 6,187. A/N: Okay, I would have totally gotten this up yesterday, but if you could tell from the word count, this came out about a thousand words over goal. I totally didn't mean for this to get so long it just sort of...happened. These parts for this particular episode are probably gonna be super long, as there's nothing I can really cut out. Good news for you guys! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Driving the Impala was a rare treat of yours that almost never seemed like an option with Dean and his obsessive mannerisms. But the man was feeling a bit generous when the both of you departed on a grueling sixteen hour drive from the last town you ended up in. Dean offered you the keys at the seven hour mark when he stopped to fill up the tank before heading back on the road. He was worried about being too exhausted to continue on despite the coffee you were offering to share with him after you slept a few hours in the back. So you switched with him, allowing him to rest his eyes for the rest of the ride as you took your seat in the driver's side, At first it was kind of fun to be behind the wheel after such a long time away, but as the time drifted to about nine hours later, you were barely finding it possible to keep your eyelids propped open with the aggravation of sleep deprivation settling into your mood.

You tighten your grip on the steering wheel when you spotted the little motel crammed between an Italian restaurant that looked like it was about to close and a newspaper stand. You found a parking spot against the sidewalk and straighten out the Impala until it was perfect. Killing the engine, you let out a sigh of relief to know that you made it in one piece, and a comfortable bed was just a few hundred feet away. You opened up the driver's side door and slammed it shut, awakening Dean who had been sleeping on and off over the past few hours. Both of you grabbed your belongings from the backseat and headed to the sidewalk. Your attention was straight ahead on the person running the front desk in the motel, you walked passed a man standing next to the door holding flyers and preaching the word of the impending doom.

"Excuse me, friend," You were a few feet away from the door when you stopped in your tracks to see the man had come forward to you. "But have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?"

Your lips stretched into a faint smile from his words, "God doesn't have a plan for me. I'm not His child."

"Of course you are." The man said as he let out a small laugh, thinking you were pulling his leg by .making him presume you were a nonbeliever of a higher power. "He has a plan for all of us."

"No, I'm not." You whispered to him. Your eyes wandered over to see that Dean was finally lifting up the duffel bag of his and slamming the backseat door. You looked over at the man to finish your thought. "I'm really a cambion. You know, sort of like the spawn of Satan. I'm the reason why the Devil's here on earth and my best friend is his sworn vessel. So, yeah, I'm sure God doesn't have a plan for me."

You wished the man a good night with a friendly smile, letting the truth that had been burning in the back of your mind over the past few weeks finally be let out, only for it to come across as a sarcastic ploy to get some bible thumper out of your way. He thought you were joking when he started chuckling ever so slightly, but when you looked over your shoulder, the man started to slowly back away, thinking you were dead serious.

+ + +

You managed to kick off your shoes and rest yourself against the most comfortable looking thing you've seen in the past twenty-four hours, the motel bed. Unfortunately there was only one room available for the night, not giving you much of a choice to avoid Dean and the impending truth that lingered over your head. You were worried about how he was going to handle it if you decided to be be honest for once in your life. Maybe he would believe you and understand, sort of like how he had been with everything else. Or maybe he would view you like his brother—a monster he wanted to shun away, forgetting he ever loved such a thing that wasn't even really human. You looked away from the wall you had been staring at and glanced over to the window, watching as Dean kept himself busy by shutting the curtains, blocking out the street lamps so you could sleep in darkness.

"We're talking about the colt, right?" You asked. You sat on the bed with your cell phone on speaker so you and Dean could have a conversation with Cas, who had not even called you five minutes ago. He brought up some interesting news that seemed more like a blessing in disguise from what you had been thinking about. You turned your attention away from the window, finding the idea of having the colt, the one you had spent years gaining and losing, still in decent condition after Lilith got her hands on it. "I mean, as in _the _colt?"

“We are.” Cas said.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense." You said, watching for a moment as Dean wandered over to the small kitchen area directly across the bed to grab a beer from the fridge. "I mean, why would the demons keep a gun around that, uh, kills demons?"

"What? What? Did—" You overheard what sounded like a truck passing by Cas, making you realize he must be standing at the edge of the highway while having this conversation. "I didn't—I didn't get that."

You couldn't help yourself but let out a quiet laugh, finding the image a funnier than it should have been. "You know, it's kind of funny, talking to a messenger of God on a cellphone. It's, you know, like watching a hell's angel ride a moped."

"This isn't funny, Y/N." Cas said with a serious tone. "The voice says I'm almost out of minutes."

"All right, all right." You mumbled, letting your smile slowly drift away from your lips as you began tracing a pattern into the stained carpet with your big toe. "I'm telling you, Cas, the demons have melted the gun by now."

"Well, I hear differently. And if it's true and if you are still set on the insane task of killing the Devil," Cas argued with you, making you subconsciously roll your eyes in frustration at hearing just the mention of Lucifer's name. It made your skin crawl all over again from what he had said to you, all the insane allegations you wanted to believe were false. "This is how we do it."

"All right." Dean agreed with him, joining on in the conversation. "Where do we start?"

“Where are you two now?” Cas asked.

"Kansas City." You said. Cranking your neck over your shoulder, you see the room key was still sitting on the nightstand. You twisted yourself around in the bed, outstretching your free hand and snatched the key from the table to read the thick plastic tag to find your exact location. "Century Hotel, room one-thirteen."

"I'll be there immediately." Cas said not a second later.

"What? No, no, dude. No." Dean complained. He wandered over to the bed, grabbing the phone from your hand as you tossed the keys to the nightstand. "Y/N and I have been stuck in the car for the past sixteen hours together. We're still human. And there's stuff I'd liked to do. Eat, for example. And for this case, sleep." Cas agreed with the plan. You dropped yourself to the middle of the bed in a horizontal position and closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion you've been fighting off slowly take over your aching muscles. "Okay, so, you can pop in tomorrow morning."

"Yes. I'll just—" Cas tried to speak, but before he could finish his sentence, he heard the line from your end go dead. Dean tossed the phone to the edge of the bed as you rested the crook of your arm over your shoulder, deciding to spend fifteen minutes in this position before taking a much needed shower. You didn't realize you left the angel standing in the middle of the night at the edge of the empty highway, staring at his cell phone with confusion. When he realized you had hung up on him, he shut his phone and looked straight on, deciding this is how he would spend the next four hours. "Wait here, then."

+ + +

You must have fallen asleep for longer than you expected, because when you finally came back around, it felt like you had been out of it for years. Your back hurt from how you had been lying backside on the mattress and your arm had fallen asleep itself after you kept it in the awkward position it wasn't used to. With squinted eyes, you placed both hands on the mattress, feeling around the material, expecting it to be the soft cotton you had felt before. Instead your fingers brushed against something cold and almost like metal. Your eyes propped open when your finger accidentally slip into a hole, trapping it for a second before you roughly yanked it out, accidentally cutting the skin in the process. You examined your wound for a second before your eyes darted around at your motel room, and what new design you were given while you were sleeping.

Everything in your room like it was stripped bare and exposed to years of wear and tear. You shifted around in bed, only to see the mattress you had been sleeping on was long gone, leaving you on a very uncomfortable metal box spring. You pushed yourself to your feet and cautiously glanced around the room, noticing the paint had faded and chipped away, leaving nothing more than a dull color with shades of brown from mildew. The objects in the room weren't in better condition, everything was broken or tipped over, neglect for someone to take care of them was evident from the way it ended up. You swallowed as you turned around in your spot on the floor, now facing the window, you instantly noticed that you weren't alone. Someone was looking at the outside below with their back turned to you.

You were tempted for a second to open your mouth and speak, breaking the eerie silence that had surrounded the both of you. But before you could, you watched as the person turned around in their spot, facing you straight on. It took only a moment before you realized it was Dean, and from the look on his face, the two of you weren't in Kansas anymore.

+ + +

It seemed the both of you stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. You and Dean wandered around the motel after you managed to get the door unstuck. The first thing the both of you did was to see if anyone else was here. You checked every room on the floor, there wasn't a sign of human life beside the garbage they left to rot. You were completely alone, there wasn’t even a mouse that popped up after you disrupted its search for food. The both of you decided it was best if you figured out what was going on by walking out of the motel and to the empty streets below. The feeling of nervousness wouldn’t leave your mind when you made your way out into the wasteland what used to be Kansas City. You knew this wasn't right, but your mind couldn't explain what happened, or if you were still sleeping--maybe you were having a very vivid nightmare from all the stress you'd been putting on yourself.

The streets were empty. You couldn't see a sign of anyone, not a single soul to tell you what was going on. Dean kept your company as the both of you took to the deserted streets, warning you to stick close, knowing anything might just happen if you let your guard down. Junk littered the streets from abandoned cars to debris that once belonged to someone's daily life. Maybe this was the apocalypse everyone had warned you about. Everyone was dead, except for you and Dean for some reason. You pondered on the thought for a moment's time until the perfect silence was destroyed by the sounds of glass shattering. You and Dean quickly looked over at one another when you realized the noise had come from an alley not too far ahead from where the both of you were standing.

Dean was a bit hesitant to follow, you shrugged your shoulders, thinking it wouldn't at least hurt to try. You followed the noise with Dean hot on your trail, the both of you headed down an alleyway tagged with graffiti, much of it you just glanced over, not giving it much of your attention. You wandered around until you turned the corner, that's when you spotted a little girl. Dean quickly grabbed ahold of your arm and lightly yanked you backwards when he spotted her for himself, seeming to wonder if she could be considered a threat. From the way she was crouched down on the ground with her head hanging low, you noticed she was filthy from her matted hair and dress stained from dirt. You thought she appeared to be wounded, so you did the right thing, you began to approach her to see if she was all right.

"Little girl?" You quietly called out to her, she didn’t move a single muscle. You started to make slow steps when you started to approach her when she wouldn't respond to you. When you spotted the glass near her feet, you wondered if she had accidentally dropped it while lurking through the trash for something to eat. "Little girl? Are you okay?"

You bent down so you were at her level, curious to see if she was able to speak and tell you what was going on. When you reached out a hand to place it on her shoulder, your eyes drifted down to see a drool of a wet mucus seep out from her mouth, plopping right onto the shards of glass. You furrowed your brow in concern when you noticed it was blood from the color, but your attention was quickly pulled back into reality when you heard a piercing scream. You flinched back your arm when you felt a stinging pain come across your skin after the little girl managed to make her move. You hissed out in pain, but before she could get you again, Dean quickly acted out on his instincts. He roughy grabbed a hold of you, yanking you out of harm's way before swinging in arm directly at the little girl, throwing away all morals of hurting someone younger.

You stumbled away when you watched as the girl get tossed safely into a pile of mattresses after being knocked unconscious from the blow. You inhaled a deep breath as Dean took a step away from her, slowly approaching you again after noticing there was no movement from her. You inhaled a breath and glanced down at your arm to inspect the damage of the cut, not knowing where the glass had been, you might have been prone to an infection. You and Dean mindlessly turned around in your spot to find a way out of here, as you looked up from your cut, you noticed that you had two options to exit. But your attention was focused on the eight letter word spray painted in crimson red.

"Croatoan." You whispered to yourself. The word didn't register in your mind for a few seconds, but you could tell there wasn't something quite right about it. As you glanced over at Dean to see if he might know why it looked so familiar, it was the look on his face that made you suddenly remember fearful memories you associated with it. "Oh, crap."

If you thought things couldn't have gotten any worse, it did. Your eyes drifted away from the word when you noticed a shadowy figure dance across the brick wall. You wondered what it was for a moment, until it came across the corner, making your fears growing even more. You could feel your eyes widened when you saw group of people shuffling forward to the two of you. It started off as no more than three people, but the crowd began to grow even larger, their feet shuffling forward to you. At first you were confused at what was going on. Everyone looked dirty and almost dead in the eyes, there was no emotion, that was, until the man standing in the front of the crowd spotted you first, his eyes drifted over to Dean not a second later. When you noticed the speed was starting to grow into a sprint after they spotted two targets, you bolted out of there.

You ran fast as you could out of the alleyway and back into the isolated streets. Your legs moved quick as they could and you forced yourself to keep your attention directly in front of you. This wasn't going to play out like a horror movie where the damsel runs for her life from the infected crowd of monsters, only to fall flat on her face and be dragged away for a snack as they tear apart her body. Dean shook the terrifying thought out of your mind when he snatched your arm, yanking you to the right, hoping this could be a way to lose the group. As you took the chance to at least look at the wild group of animals that looked like human, you inhaled a deep breath and focused your gaze in front of you. But you could see the horror cliches were working out when you spotted the high wire fence, cornering you, giving you no chance to make another run for it.

You and Dean stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted a large metal fence, a dead end. You let out a frustrated breath as you began examining the fence, wondering if you could somehow jump it in time or find a rip in the wiring just big enough to squeeze yourselves through. But there was nothing. Much to your dismay, you turned around to face the crowd of people that had been following you for the few blocks now. There was too many people, you knew there wasn’t a chance in hell you could fight your way out of this. But it seemed there was somebody looking out for the both of you.

The sound of gunshots registered in your ears just a few seconds after you saw the man who was starting to make his way forward to you take about six bullets to the chest. You instantly dropped yourself to your knees, Dean followed suit, the both of you stumbling out of firing range as you crawled to find better coverage. You fell to the pavement when you heard the gunshots come dangerously close, Dean did what he thought was necessary, he quickly shielded your body with his, waiting for a break from the madness before it would be safe to move. Both of you stayed in the position for a few seconds, listening to the gunshots as everyone who laid in the path was shot down with no mercy. You suddenly found this situation become even worse when you heard music being blasted through a stereo, drowning out the gunshot sounds. You furrowed your brow, listening to the lyrics, someone thought it would have been funny to play "Do You Love Me" by the Contours. It sure didn't fit the mood, but someone had a sick sense of humor.

Dean glanced up to see there was another alley just a few feet from where the both of you were lying. He moved up just enough so you could begin crawling to safety, all while trying to keep yourself hidden in the debris that you tried using to keep yourself hidden. The two of you managed to avoid any detection as you found another fence with a decent size break in it big enough to make a getaway. You squeezed yourself through as you stumbled down the steps, Dean followed behind close as possible as the both of you kept yourselves hidden from the danger that lurked outside. You dropped yourself to the pavement and leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath from the unexpected chaos that was brought upon you. You listened as the gunfire began to slowly quiet down, you glanced over at Dean, both of you shared the same baffled look, unsure of what you had been subjected to.

+ + +

You and Dean traveled through the town, avoiding the dead bodies that littered the streets and listening for anything that might pierce the silence that had been keeping you on edge. Dean managed to find another fence that seemed promising, he worked diligently on digging through the dirt to make the ripped fence bigger for the both of you to squeeze into. When he thought it was decent enough, he had you go first, crawling through the tight space before making his way though himself. You pushed yourself to your feet and dusted off the dirt from your jeans, mindlessly looking ahead, that's when you noticed a sign. You wandered forward to read it, hoping it would give you insight on what you had landed yourself into. "Crotaton Virus Hot Zone: No Entry By Order of Acting Regional Command August 1st 2014 Kansas City."

"August 1st, 2014." Dean's voice came from behind you, he read the sign for himself to see what was going on here. You read the information for yourself just one more time before looking over your shoulder, wondering if you had really landed yourself five years into the future. Dea shrugged his shoulders, seeming unsure of himself what to believe, it seemed he found something the both of you could use right now, an abandoned car not too far from where you stood. "Let's hope the poor son of a bitch left us a full tank of gas."

Both of you headed to the car, happy to see the owner was in an obvious rush to get out of here, because they left the doors unlocked, giving you easy access to the passenger side. Dean took no more than a few minutes to rip out a few wires and fuss around with them until he got the car started, with almost a full tank of gas. You and him got started on the road, driving out to the empty road to see if you could find any survivors out there. You reached out to fumble with the radio, Dean took out his cell phone, hoping to find service. All you gotten was static and Dean the warning of no service. You let out a frustrated sigh, flicking off the radio as Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, making a remark about how this wasn't a good sign.

"'Croatoan pandemic reaches Australia.'"

You heard a voice break the silence, making you jump out of your skin as Dean flinched, not expecting for a familiar friend to pop through. You glanced over your shoulder as Dean looked into the rear view mirror to see Zachariah casually sitting in the backseat, his attention focused on the newspaper he was able to read in the darkness. "I thought I smelled your stink on this 'Back to the Future' crap." Dean said, dropping his eyes back to the open road.

"'President Palin defends bombing of Houston.' Certainly a buyer's market in real estate. Let's see what's happening in sports." Zachariah was all too casual for your personal liking, he continued flipping through the pages of the newspaper and skimmed through the articles, looking at all of the sections, as if he was searching for a particular one. "That's right--no more sports. Congress revoked the right to group assembly. What's left of congress, that is. Hardly a quorum, if you ask me."

"What the hell is going on?" You questioned him. "And how the hell did you find me?"

"Afraid we had to tap some unorthodox resources of late—human informants. We've been making inspirational visits to the fringier christian groups." Zachariah explained to you. You realized the man you had spoken to outside of the motel, the one who had been so truthfully sarcastic to, had put you in this situation. "They've been given your image along with Dean's, told to keep an eye out for you two lovebirds."

"The bible freak outside the motel," You said. "He ratted us out?"

"Onward, christian soldiers." Zachariah replied, closing up the newspaper.

"Okay, well, good. Great. You had your jolies." Dean said with a sarcastic tone. You looked over to see his grip around the steering wheel had turned dangerously tight, his knuckles slowly faded to a shade of white. "Now send us back, you son of a bitch.'

"Oh, you'll get back—all in good time. We want you two to marinate a bit." Zachariah explained to you. You narrowed your eyes on him, still unsure of what he was trying to accomplish here. "Three days. Three days to see where this course of actions takes the both of you. Your choices have consequences." Your eyes wandered down to the newspaper he was holding and read the headline. "This is what happens to the world if Dean continues to say no to Michael."

"Sarah Palin becomes president? Yeah, that is scary. And here people say Obama was ruining the world." You said, rolling your eyes in annoyance from the tricks he was trying to pull on you. "Are you going to tell me that Donald Trump is gonna run in 2016 and win, too?"

"Joke all you want, Y/N. Have a little look around before you make up your mind. I'm sure you won't like what you helped create." Zachariah warned you. "Have a look see. I'm sure the both of you will change your tune when these three days are up.”

You were about to look over your shoulder once more to give the angel a skeptical look, but when you searched the backseat, Zachariah was long gone. You found yourself sitting back in the passenger side seat and rolled your eyes, finding this situation all too frustrating. The both of you kept driving on the deserted road, hoping when you reached an old friend's house, he would still be there and could explain what was going on.

+ + +

When in doubt, go to Bobby's house. You and Dean arrived in South Dakota an hour after the sun rose, marking the first official day of whatever Zachariah was trying to prove. Bobby's place was usually in a messy state, but when you took notice, it seemed more out of place than it normally was. The both of you headed to the front door, knocking a few times, waiting to see if somebody would answer. But when nobody did, Dean took it upon himself to slowly open the door and peeked inside, hopeful to find Bobby hiding somewhere.

"Bobby? Bobby, it's me and Y/N! We’re coming in!" Dean called out as a precaution. He opened the door wider and began to take slow steps inside, you followed behind. The both of you began walking through the house, tracing your steps through the familiar setting, but with much different interior than you had remembered. Everything seemed to have been shoved around and more cluttered than you had last remembered it seeing. Papers were thrown across the floor and books laid all over, not to mention the faded wallpaper was torn off and frames were barely hanging on. You let out a heavy sigh and followed behind Dean, the two of you stumbled into the living room, where you found a sight that didn't leave a good feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Oh, no."

You moved forward into the room, your eyes drifting to the wheelchair Bobby used to get around. It laid abandoned on the floor, tilted to the side with its owner nowhere to be seen. You bent down and picked it by the handles, you shoved it upwards so the wheelchair was sitting up properly. In this position, you could see the years clearly in the ripped fabric and rusted metal. You ran your fingers down the armrests, wondering what the hell was going on. "Where is everybody, Bobby?"

You looked around the room to see that Dea had disappeared from your sight, drifting off to another part of the house. You pushed yourself to your feet and searched to see where the man had landed himself. It took a few tries but you found him in the library, his back was turned to you as he stood in front of the fireplace and took apart the secret hiding place where you kept John's journal when you didn't carry it on hunts. You wandered forward when he grabbed the journal and began flipping through the familiar pages, hoping to find a certain clue of what was going on, and when he found a photograph sticking out, it seemed that he had done just that.

You peered over his shoulder to see that he was holding a sepia toned photograph. You examined the faces to see it was a group of five men standing outside of a compound you'd never seen before. You glanced over to the right to see Bobby himself in the crowd, along with an all too familiar face, Cas. The angel seemed out of place, holding a gun amongst the group, and sharing the same casual attire, something completely different from what you were used to seeing. Dean's index finger pointed at something in the background, you didn't notice it at first until he directed your attention. You noticed it was a wooden sign with the words "Camp Chitaqua" carved into it. You glanced over at Dean, thinking you may have found your first clue to figuring out what really was going on.

+ + +

The best thing you could find with the word Chitaqua was a lake, and with a simple search of a map, you learned it wasn't too far from where Bobby lived. You and Dean headed over to see the lake also had a campsite with the same name, providing cabins to locals for a summer's resort. The both of you wandered through the darkness to try and find a way in, but one thing lead to another, you found yourself lurking in the woods alone. You shoved a tree branch out of the way and took a giant step forward, trying to make your way through. You managed to find an opening that lead directly to the sign you were looking for. You began heading forward after you noticed there was yet another fence keeping you out and a sign that looked confidental enough was only glanced over by you as you walked forward, wanting to take a look around for yourself.

You made it just a foot away from the fence until you spotted two men walking the grounds, probably keeping an eye out for people like you. You quickly hid yourself behind a bush, watching from the shadows as they kept on going, neither one of them seemed to be a threat as they kept a conversation, laughing at certain parts as you watched them head to a cabin way in the distance. You made your way to the fence and looked your fingers through the holes, your eyes drifted across the empty field, not seeming to notice much, that was, until you spotted a very familiar piece of your past. You leaned forward and squinted slightly, wondering if the junk car with its missing wheels and doors was the Impala itself.

You found the smallest beak in the metal fence, but it was enough to get you through and onto the compound. Quietly, you walked forward to the Impala to see your suspicions were right. The car laid with its front doors missing and all the wheels stripped away. You were rather shocked to see what time had done to the car which had shared so many memories for you. You bent down to examine the damage even further, only to see it was even worse. You let out a sigh and rubbed your hand on the steering wheel, the question yet again what was going on lingered in the back of your mind.

The sounds of footsteps crunching underneath the tall grass caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder to see there was somebody coming forward, giving you little time to find a hiding spot. As you were about to circle around the Impala and hide, you squinted your eyes to see in the dark, the shape of the face was a familiar one. You noticed it was Dean, he must have found a way inside and made the same discovery you had. You peeked your head out just enough to see if your suspicions were right. You quietly called out his name, deciding it wouldn't do harm to put yourself out in the open. When you stood next to the car, Dean's eyes wandered over to you, but his expression was all from what you were expecting.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted you standing next to the Impala. His expression changed ever so slowly as his gaze lingered longer than it should have been. You watched as his brow tightened and his jaw slowly slack open, almost like you had appeared out of thin air. "Y/N?" Dean whispered your name, breaking the long pause of silence between the both of you. His voice sounded strange, it was quiet and soft, almost like he hadn't said your name in a long time. You gave him a look as you stepped forward to him, that move instantly broke him out of this trance. "Stay right where the hell you are. Is this some kind of messed up trick your boss thinks is funny? Well, I ain't laughing."

"Dean," You did what you were told, leaving a few feet of distance between the both of you. "What the hell are you talking about? Did you fall down and bump that stupid head of yours while we got separated? It's me, Y/N."

"Sure you are." Dean replied with a bitter tone. "I aint' falling for this again."

You gave him a look of confusion when you listened to the words coming out of his mouth. While you were about to ask him what had crawled up his ass, your eyes drifted down to his outfit, taking notice of the subtly different parts you didn't notice until now. The Dean standing in front of you was wearing a navy green jacket, something you hadn't seen before, not to mention the gun holster on his right thigh. You knew something was wrong here, but before you could declare your innocence from whatever accusation he thought you were holding against him, you felt a sharp pain against the side of your head.

Dean watched as your body dropped to the ground, landing safely on the wild grass that hadn't been taken care in the past four years he'd called this place a safe haven. He dropped himself to a crouch and loomed over your unconscious body, he let the moonlight reflect the features he hadn't seen in a long time. Reaching out a hand, he softly ran a finger across your skin and flicked a piece of hair that landed in your face. Dean examined you for what felt like a lifetime, his throat was starting to tighten up when he noticed you looked exactly how the day you left him, even with the mouth to match. As a smile began to creep across his lips, the rarest moment of happiness that he hadn't felt in five years was broken by the sounds of another pair of footsteps approaching from behind.

Pushing himself to his feet and drawing out his gun from the holster, Dean pointed the barrel directly at the stranger who dared creep up on him. Everyone in the camp knew curfew was at nightfall, and all of his men knew not to approach him without warning him first. Dean stared at the person with a dangerous glare, wondering if a croat had somehow snuck itself on the property. But the person staring at him was almost like looking at a mirror. It was him—a much younger him. The Dean standing across from him had his arms drawn out with a pretend look of panic, something he'd always liked to do just to give the look of surprise when monsters got the jump on him. Dean, the real him of this year, cautiously stared at the man, wondering what the freakin' hell was going on here before his double met the same demise as you.

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faces-in-unexpected-places · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Have the Time? Episode 024: Heart on Your Sleeve

Synopsis: Jeremy and Madison have better success at using their inside voices this time.

[April 24th, 2018, 18:35]

Leslie slowly inched her car into the parking lot to Jeremy and Madison’s apartment complex. The pavement had a steep dip between the road at the entrance of the parking lot. Even at a snail’s pace, the Leslie’s front bumped scraped the pavement leading into the lot. She grimaced at the harsh scratching sound. Jeremy frowned and nodded in complacency.

“Sorry. No matter what you try, your car always takes the hit. You should see my neighbor’s car,” he sympathized.

Leslie was silent until she recognized Jeremy’s building and pulled into a spot nearby. She put the car in park and looked around. She scoffed at herself in frustration.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot, I should have taken you to your car, instead! You drive yourself to campus on Tuesdays because you teach, right?”

“Normally, yes,” he chuckled, “Very good memory. But Madison actually drove us this morning, so she has the keys. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway,” he explained.

“Oh. Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay. I would have said something, otherwise.”

“Okay…” Leslie glanced around the parking lot one more time, “I don’t see your car anywhere here. Where is Madison at?” she asked.

Jeremy nervously hummed and sighed at the question.

“I’m not really sure,” he said.

“Oh,” Leslie replied, holding her gaze on Jeremy, expecting to hear more.

He pursed his lips and faced himself straight ahead in the car, with his eyes lowered to his shoes. He fidgeted with a loose string on his sweater.

“We sort of got in a fight earlier,” he admitted.

“Oh,” she echoed again, “Another one?” she paused, “Sorry, that didn’t come out like I wanted it to. You know, like, I just remember you guys had an issue not too long ago in the lab, and—”

“No, I understand,” he laughed wryly, “And yes, another one, but… not like that one before. There were… lots of things said this time. It was, uh, messy.”

“I… can’t really imagine you being in such a messy fight?”

“Well… I think it was a long time coming.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, “So… what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. I suppose I’ll… try to talk to her about it, as much as I… dread it,” he shuttered, “I wish it just didn’t happen but… I think this is a talk we’ve needed for a while. We used to be so much closer when we were younger. I think part of that might be my fault.”

“So, you’re going to talk to her when she gets home?”

“I don’t see any other way to make this better. Normally, I’d try to just convince myself that I’m better off without all the drama and just distance myself or cut ties completely, but…”

“But what?”

“I’ve just been thinking how things used to be. Like she said, ‘why can’t we just be like we used to?’. I don’t know if we can go back to the exact same relationship we had before, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing. We can still get better. Maybe even be better than before… At least I hope,” he corrected.

“I hope so too, Jeremy,” she said, “Can I offer some input?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t know everything about your guys’ history, or how you used to be, but… even when your relationship hasn’t been at its best, I can see a lot of potential for a happy and healthy bond. So… if you want it to be better, I think it’ll get there.”

“Hmm, yeah… thanks,” he said through a long, winded sigh, “That helps… I’m not sure how, but it helps. A bit.”

Leslie gently smiled and glanced at his apartment building. Then back to him.

“You should probably get in there. It’s easier to jump into a freezing pool than it is to dip your toes in one by one.”

He scoffed.

“I actually understand that one. Okay. I’ll go.”

Before he reached for the handle, Leslie unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned her body over towards his seat and gave him a disjointed hug. One arm wrapped around him too easily, and the other, not enough. He was taken by surprise, but clumsily reciprocated after a moment of maneuvering his arms around his own seatbelt. Leslie’s hair tickled his face as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“Text me later tonight and tell me how it goes, okay?” she said softly.

“Oh. Okay. Really?” he asked.

“Well, yeah!” she chuckled, “I want you guys to be okay, too, after all.”

“Okay. I will,” he accepted, “Thanks. Again. And, um, thank you for the hug, also,” he stammered, still holding on.

“You seemed like you needed one. And I also just like hugs, and I don’t have many people to give them to, so…”

“That’s okay, I can take it,” he joked.

“Oh, but how much can you take?” she warbled and squeezed him tightly. He snorted and chuckled. He grunted and squeezed her harder, making a game out of it. Leslie furrowed her brow in the face of competition and squashed him as hard as she could. Jeremy wheezed and laughed, tapping her on the shoulder for mercy. She snickered triumphantly and let go. Jeremy caught his breath and felt his face heating up. He tried to execute his departure before she could notice.

“Alright, so, I’ll—I’m gonna go—" he said.

“Okay!” Leslie loudly cut him off.

“And I’ll talk to you later tonight,” he finished.

“Okay! You do that!” she replied, also hurrying the goodbye, “Good luck!” she said and unlocked the car doors.

Jeremy swiftly exited, waved to her as he crossed in front of the car and scurried across the parking lot to his building. He didn’t look back once he waved to her. Leslie turned a knob causing a gentle breeze of air conditioning to flow over her face and hair.

She sighed.

“Leave it to me to make it weird and awkward.”

[April 24th, 2018, 18:45]

Jeremy unlocked the front door and entered an empty and silent apartment. The sofa was made neatly with all pillows positioned deliberately. Nothing sat on the coffee table and their tiny TV was still turned off. Although the HDMI cable to their Nintendo Switch was hanging out from their console table. Perhaps she was home and played video games for a bit. He continued his walkthrough of the apartment. A cardboard box from a TV dinner was left empty on the kitchen counter. Seems she had eaten.

“Madison?” he called.

No response.

He crept to the other side of the living room where the doors to the bedrooms and the bathroom were. He gently knocked on her door and called for her again. Still nothing. He cracked the door, but heard no protests. He peaked inside. Her oak wood desk was cluttered with her favorite trinkets. A jar of sand from the beach, interesting-looking rocks, a ceramic dish with a cactus sprouting up from the center. The bed was a mess. Pillows on the floor, sheets rolled up into a ball, stuffed animals strewn about randomly. Even more blankets were overflowing from a basket on the floor. Her dresser and nightstand drawers were partially open; he couldn’t see what was inside, but there was definitely too much crammed into each drawer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, her mess was never able to detract from her sky-blue walls. No matter how much clutter, her room still seemed so large and open. Jeremy hummed and closed her door.

He supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing that she hadn’t come home yet. It would give him time to think of what he wanted to say. He directed himself into his own room. He never changed his room from the off-white color it was when he moved in. Organization and storage were his highest priorities when he moved in. Small bookshelf to hold the few books he hadn’t tucked away into a box under the bed. An Ottoman and nightstand to disperse the load of storage, and a desk to work at. Bed made neatly with one stuffed robot toy laying with the pillows. Despite his fixation with organization, the dark hue of his furniture relentlessly shrunk the size of his room.

He forced himself to his desk with a notebook and pencil to organize his thoughts. He sat for several minutes with his pencil tapping the paper, hoping the ideas would come soon. He rubbed his temples as he started to develop a headache. He glanced at his dresser and spoke up.

“Alexa,” he projected his voice. His echo dot lit up and waited for his request, “Play ‘Love Like You’ on Spotify, please.”

And she did.

Still, the song did nothing to fuel his productivity. If anything, it distracted him. He followed the melody of the piano and attempted to decode the time signature and chord progression. Seconds after it started, he’d dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head and feet on the table. He stopped thinking about everything. Madison. His parents. His research. Leslie. The music. It was as if he’d skipped ahead three minutes to right when the song ended. He only came to at the end of the song, when he realized his Alexa had stopped playing.

His room fell silent again.

He asked his Alexa to play the song again.

He let out a light sigh, shut his notebook and got up from his desk. Rather absent mindedly, he wandered around his room, looking at his furniture until he made it over to his bed. He was tired. After being home for thirty or forty minutes, he could feel that the day had taken quite a toll on his body. The stress of teaching, research, fighting with Madison, reflecting on their parents, opening up to Leslie twice, it had all drained him of his brain power. He couldn’t bear the thought of organizing all of that into a condensed list of talking points to discuss with Madison.

He needed to do something else.

He dropped to his knees next to his bed and swatted his hand around beneath it until he found what he was looking for. His keyboard and a booklet slid out from under his bedframe. Afterwards, he muscled the stand for the keyboard and a stool out of his closet. He brought all the items to the living room — with the addition of his robot toy — and set them up.

He sat on his stool between the couch and television. His robot toy watched him from the couch. The keyboard sat rightfully on the stand. Just behind the keyboard was an additional shelf on the stand that held sheet music. It held his booklet and he flipped through a few pages until he found the right page. Blank sheet music filled in with pen by Jeremy’s hand years ago. Some of the notes were smudged, but he remembered what they were supposed to play. The top of the page read “Ballroom Lullaby in C Major by Jeremy Brilliant”.

After flipping his keyboard on, Jeremy softly played his first chord in years. C major. Easy to get himself started. He began following the bass progression of the song with his left hand. Simple way to warm up. Then, he started the melody with his right hand. The first melody always relaxed him. As the melody got more complex, he felt his throat tighten up. He wrote the song during a day when he was left home alone for the entire day to study while his mother worked, and his father took Madison to the county fair. He could never not think about that day whenever he played that song. As he played, he realized he could never not think about something related to his life at home designed by his mother when he played piano.

About a minute and a half into the song, Madison bulldozed her way through the front door, holding a CVS bag in one hand an ice-cream cone in the other hand. Her entrance wasn’t out of anger, it was just her way; she couldn’t seem to help barging in to wherever it was that she was going. Even when she was in the middle of crying, it seemed. Her face was red, and her eyes were slightly swollen. She shot a glance at Jeremy, who was still playing. She looked serious. It wasn’t an expression he was accustomed to seeing on her. Her eyes grew wide with surprise; Jeremy hesitated and almost ceased his playing, but she shook her head and waved her hands towards him to suggest that he should stay focused.

He continued playing.

She tiptoed around his keyboard and plopped herself on the couch next to his toy robot. She furrowed her brow in confusion at the sight of it, then held it securely in her lap while she continued to listen. Her face was beginning to calm. Her expressions shifted between heartwarming and disgruntled. It seemed that she was just as confused as her brother. His playing got softer and slower until finally, he gently resolved the melody with the final chord.

C major.

The room was quiet after the song ended. Jeremy took a deep breath and tore his eyes from the sheet music to meet eyes with his sister. She forced a half-smile at him.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“…I think about six years.”

“You mean you never played after you picked it up from their house?”

“Not until today,” he corrected.

“Not bad for six years out of practice,” she scoffed.

“Well. It’s not a very complicated song. It’s only four chords.”

Madison glanced down at the toy in her hands and held it up for him.

“You had an audience, but didn’t invite me? Rude.”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t know you had things like this,” she said.

“A few. I like that one a lot, though.”

“It’s cute,” she said and set it back down beside her.

Jeremy turned himself on the stool to face her and held his hands on his knees while he contemplated.

“I was thinking we should talk about… what happened today—” he started,

“Me too,” she interjected.

“—but I didn’t think of anything to say.”

“That’s okay. I’ve been thinking a lot, so maybe I can go first? Maybe you’ll think of stuff along the way,” she suggested, and moved to sit with her legs underneath her.

“Okay, good idea,” Jeremy nervously agreed. He didn’t know what to expect from her.

“Sooo…” she started with a deep exhale, “There were a lot of things that came up in that… ‘discussion’. But first, I wanted to start with… I’m sorry.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know, right?” she chuckled, “When do I ever say that?” she paused, “But for real. I felt like you were mad at me for a while, and it made me upset. I wanted to talk about it, and the way I went about it was… mean. I was trying to get a rise out of you. Get you really mad, provoke you, anything, just to get a reaction from you. I have a reason, but that doesn’t make it right. I should have asked you about it in a more responsible way. And I’m sorry.”

“Well, thank you. That—really is nice to hear coming from you,” he said.

“But I think the reason is that—I just—I feel so shut out by you sometimes. I just wanted you to talk to me… for once. Just once, I wanted you to tell me something other than ‘go away’—”

“I never said that,” Jeremy corrected, defensively.

“Not really, but you dropped some pretty heavy hints by not talking to me and then walking away,” she explained.

Jeremy let out a strained sigh and begrudgingly nodded.

“But still. You didn’t know that, then. I should have been more forward and respectful about it. So, I’m sorry.”

Jeremy waited a moment for her to continue, but she stayed quiet. He took the opportunity to speak instead.

“I’m sorry, too,” he started, “I haven’t done a stellar job at… telling people what I want. Or don’t want. I suppose I was trying to tell you that I didn’t want to talk, but… that wasn’t the most responsible way to do it either—”

“Psh, I’ll say,” she joked.

Jeremy glared at her.

“Uh, sorry,” she quickly back-peddled, “Probably should have read the room on that one. That wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay. Although, I do appreciate it when you don’t interrupt me while I’m trying to make a point—”

“Didn’t you just interrupt me a minute ago, though?” she cross-examined.

Jeremy sighed and closed his eyes in frustration.

“Yes, I did.”

“And then I just interrupted you to tell you that you interrupted me earlier.”

He closed his eyes and started chuckling. He mentally stepped aside from the conversation for a moment, relaxed his shoulders, and let himself laugh. Madison slowly joined him.

“Can we just agree that we were both kinda pieces of shit for talking over each other and we’re both hella sorry for that?”

“Yeah, that would probably be more efficient,” he said, “We’ll have to both work on that problem.”

“So, since we’re here now…” she began, “do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you? I feel like it’s been eating you up a bit, and I’ll tell you it’s definitely been eating me up.”

“Okay,” he said with a heavy breath, “It’s more like two things.”

She grimaced but held her tongue, so she didn’t derail the topic with a joke.

“Sometimes, I feel like you try to downplay the things that I do or say that are important to me, and if I protest, you tell me to relax or act like it’s not a big deal.”

“Alright… not trying to disagree, but could you give me an example? Might help me understand what you’re saying a bit easier.”

“Sure, let me think…” he paused, “What about when we were getting in the car to go to Leslie’s house for the dinner party?”

“Okay, sure. What happened?”

“You took my video camera with you because you wanted to make a documentary about our research—”

“—Still doing it by the way—” She interrupted, “Ah! Shit, I did it again. Sorry, sorry.”

“But you didn’t ask if you could use it. We’re using that camera for something that I take very seriously and it’s important to me. You started using it for something you wanted, and when I protested, you ignored me and told me that what you were doing was ‘way cooler’. I felt like you only cared about what you wanted to do, and you didn’t even respect me enough to listen to anything I had to say about it. I feel like I need to supervise you all the time, when you don’t take me seriously. And if you can’t take me seriously, I can’t trust you to handle things responsibly on your own. Things like your coursework. That really bothers me,” he explained.

The siblings could feel their bodies becoming heavier as they fully owned their emotions and finally revealed them to one another. Madison huffed in a cumbersome manner and nodded.

“Oh…” she sighed, “Well shit, I didn’t even think about it like that,” she scoffed, “But I guess that was pretty obvious, huh?”

Jeremy rocked his hand left and right, giving her a so-so gesture.

“I guess I do kinda brush you off a lot.”

“It feels like it, at least. And it really is sad, because I actually really like the idea of a documentary-style, well, documentation of the research.”

“…You do?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. On the condition that it’s actually informative,” he prefaced, “But it’s not every day somebody makes a documentary about you or the things you’re doing. I think that you would have a really interesting interpretation of the research, especially as an outsider to the project,” he grimaced, “I mean, not—not an outsider, per se, but just—”

“No, it’s okay,” she stopped him, “I get it. That’s another thing, honestly. I am an outsider to it. I don’t know what you guys are talking about half the time. You said that you felt like I was glomming onto you guys and hogging Leopold’s time and attention earlier, and I kinda am. Not trying to push you out of your own lab or anything, just that, you know, you guys are researching time travel, dude. That’s freakin’ awesome! I’m too dumb to understand it myself, but I still want to be a part of it, somehow. You guys are all so freakin’ smart. I just wanted to hang out with my brother like I used to, you know?”

“It’s none of my business what you and Leopold do. The reality is that Leslie and I have been working together well enough, and if I ever need Leopold’s help, I know where to find him. He’s never not been there for me before,” he thought aloud, “If I feeI like need his help or guidance or opinion, it’s my job to ask. Even if I start to doubt myself or my questions because I see you two talking and working together. He’s there for me, too, whether I feel like it or not.”

“I forget that you’re not at the same level as them sometimes, actually,” she added, “You all just work together like you’re colleagues. It’s hard to remember you’re a student who has questions, too. I can back off if you want,” she resigned.

“No, no. Don’t, really,” Jeremy assert, “I was just feeling self-conscious. That’s my problem, not yours. And I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but it sounds like Leopold has something he’s working through and you being around has been good for him.”

“You talk to Leslie about it?” Madison inquired.

“A bit. She didn’t tell me any specifics. Do you know anything about it?”

She pursed her lips and slowly shook her head.

“I kinda get that feeling too, but he hasn’t said anything to me either.”

“You don’t have to stop coming to the lab. It’s probably good experience for you anyway, if you decide you want to stay with the chemistry major. Or maybe it will change your mind,” he chuckled, “But what would be helpful is trying to keep the distractions to a minimum. Maybe not playing video games at our worktable, when you’ve got finals coming up,” he suggested.

Madison groaned at herself.

“I know, I know,” she paused and grimaced, “Is that the second part of your beef with me?”

He sighed and nodded.

“Oh boy. Okay, lay it on me,” she said.

“I’m not trying to micro-manage you when I say all of this. But I see how you spend your time, Madison. You’ve outwardly admitted to procrastinating studying for your finals by playing video games. You said that you felt uncomfortable asking me for help with your homework, and I’m sorry for making you feel that way. Sometimes I forget that the things I’ve known for years are things that you learned last week, and that you haven’t mastered them yet. We also agreed that I would help support you through school on the condition that you did well. At the very least, not failing your classes.”

Madison nodded through his talk with a sheepish look on her face.

“If you want me to keep supporting you through school, then you need to prove to me that you can handle it and are willing to put in the work. If you feel like you don’t want to do school anymore, that’s okay. I meant what I said two years ago. But you need to tell me so we can figure out what other expenses you can handle while you work a job, instead.”

Madison vigorously shook her head.

“Nononono,” she babbled out, “I don’t want to quit!”

“Okay.”

“For real, dude,” she persisted.

“Okay, I believe you,” he assured.

“I just—ah—I know I’ve been lagging behind a bit,” she sighed, “A lot, honestly. I just didn’t want to feel stupid, asking you for help. Sometimes the stuff you say just flies right over my head. But I guess I could have still asked my professors for help, before just giving up,” she said.

Jeremy nodded and listened.

“And I dunno. Not sure if I like chemistry, which just piles on a whole other mess of problems. Maybe it’s just the topic in general? I mean… that was mom’s job, right? Chemistry… stuff?”

“Chemical engineering, yes,” he corrected.

She scoffed.

“Can’t even get the major right,” she mumbled to herself.

“You don’t have to do science at all, if you don’t want to,” Jeremy said, “That’s just what I did. But you and I are very different people.”

She gestured a balancing scale with her hands.

“I mean, we’re both pretty sick at Mario Kart,” she joked.

“It’s okay to do something different, is all,” he chuckled.

“That’s the thing, though, I like science! I think it’s crazy and awesome and, I mean, none of it makes sense, but it’s cool that it doesn’t all make sense! Makes me want to get to the bottom of it,” she said pensively.

“Heh, yeah, well… me too! Maybe we’re not so different,” he smiled faintly, “Regardless, if you stay in science, there’s a decent chance you’ll have to do at least two years’ worth of chemistry courses.”

“Oh god, really?” she groaned, “What if I switch to physics like you?”

“Physics basically birthed the field of chemistry.”

“It did?”

“Oh yeah.”

“What about biology?”

“Well now that’s just chemistry with a twist to it.”

“Oh, come on!” she pouted, “How ‘bout medicine? Any of those hospital jobs that you don’t have to be a doctor?”

“Healthcare is further away but it’s foundation is still chemistry, physics, and biology.”

“What, so chemistry and physics are just the two all-powerful god-sciences?”

“Actually, that would be mathematics.”

“Oh, lord, I don’t know what to do, anymore.”

She clasped the sides of her face in distress and curled up into a ball. Jeremy snorted and gently pulled her out of her shell again.

“You don’t have to know right now, Madison. You can switch to an undecided major and just work on the core classes that everyone needs. Give yourself time to think about it.”

“Right. Yeah, totally. Time to think,” she huffed, “I want to try again next semester. Or this summer maybe if I can. I want to do better; I think I can.”

“I’m sure you can,” he encouraged, “And I’ll be there, too. I’m still here and happy to help. I’ll try to… explain things in slower and easier to digest ways, if you ask for my help.”

She gave him a light smile and took a deep breath. She rolled her shoulders back and forth.

“Thanks, Jay,” she whispered, bittersweetly, “Err—sorry, you told me not to call—”

“No problem… Maddie,” he said warmly, “Thank you, too.”

She stuttered and awkwardly chuckled in surprise.

“You haven’t called me that since we were little.”

He slowly shrugged.

“Old habits die hard, right?”

“It’s weird hearing that after so long… I gotta say, I didn’t realize it until now, but I think ‘Madison’ really grew on me.”

“Well, it is your name, after all,” he joked.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s different. Makes me feel, you know, more matuuuure.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and scoffed at her display.

“I am now realizing that what I’ve just done is, perhaps… not mature.”

“It’s a work in progress,” he snorted.

“Yeah! I’m getting there!”

They laughed in unison and slowly drew their discussion to a close.

“So… are we good?” she asked with a hint of worry in her eyes.

He nodded.

“Yeah… we’re good.”

“Am I still your favorite sister?”

“By default, but yes, technically you are.”

“That’s good enough for me!”

Jeremy stretched his arms and back and started packing up his keyboard.

“Wait! What are you doing right now?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe finish up some work? Might reach out to Leslie to tie up some loose ends from toda—”

“No!” she interjected, “Oh boy, we really need to work on interrupting each other, it’s a real problem,” she joked to herself. “But no! Don’t do any of that!” she urged.

Jeremy shook his head in bafflement.

“Why not?”

“Okay, one more point, and then our talk is over: you work way too much!”

“Oh, please.”

“No, really! You get to the lab early and stay late all the time, you’re constantly thinking about or talking about the lab, and I barely even see you eat or do something fun. For some reason you are home at a half-decent time tonight. Use that time to relax. No talking to Leslie, no talking to Leopold, no grading, no studying, no scientific paper ‘leisure reading’ – whatever that is, sounds fake— and no sciencey-writing either! Make yourself a real dinner and play video games so I don’t feel so bad for beating all your high scores. At least watch something on Netflix or something. If I have to ‘buckle down’ and ‘apply myself’ or whatever, then you have to live it up once in a while!”

She gasped for breath at the end of her barrage of forceful self-care orders. Jeremy defensively held his hands in the air as if he were being arrested.

“Okay, alright, point taken, I’ll ‘do something for myself for once’,” he mocked, “For the record, I was not going to talk to Leslie about work, okay? It was—uh, something else.”

Jeremy stammered towards the end of his argument, realizing he’d made himself vulnerable to more interrogation.

“Oh?” Madison’s interest was piqued, “Well, if not work, then what? I’m curious.”

“None of your business, that’s what. Don’t worry about it.” he quickly shut her down.

Madison raised her eyebrows at him.

“Stop that.”

She bounced them up and down.

“Madison, stop.”

She did not stop.

“Listen, Jay, if need some advice or some backup —like a wingman, kinda— you could say that I’m the…”

“Don’t—”

“Ace up your sleeve,�� she winked.

“How would you be my wingman, if you’re ace?” he asked.

“Dude, being a wingman is, like, the optimal position for asexuals! I don’t really want any part in this, but I am totally down to help the pilot—that’s you—score some brownie points with the… plane. Or the other pilot? Co-pilot? Or, no, they would become the co-pilot once you score enough brownie points. Hmmm, we got any brownies…?”

“You’re getting lost in the metaphor.”

“Yeah, but you get it!”

“Sure.”

“Look, all’s I’m sayin’ is that…ya got somethin’ going on. And if you need a little push to get that somethin’ in motion, I’m your man. You—your wingman, I mean. Not like, I am a man, just like, I’m your go-to, you know like—”

“Yes, I get it,” he stopped her.

“Okay, good.”

“Great. Well, uh, thank you, Madison for that very… uncomfortable but generous offer. I will… uh, I’ll be in touch,” he said politely.

“Hope to hear from you soon,” she winked and got up from the couch. She pulled a notebook and a pack of pencils out of the bag. The bag was still weighed down on the couch as she left it behind.

“What are you doing?” he called after her.

“If I want to do better, I have to prepare for it,” she said, “Figured it best to just get a new notebook for my chem class. My old one was all torn up and full of doodles. Gonna try catching up on a few chapters tonight.”

“You know, I have extra notebooks. And pencils,” Jeremy said, “I could have just given you some, if you needed them.”

“Yeah, I know. But it felt good to buy it myself. Reminds me that this is my stuff to deal with,” she said with an air of introspection. Jeremy smiled with respect at her initiative and nodded.

“I’m gonna go study,” she said softly and turned into her room, “Oh, and I bought too much stuff at the store; finish off whatever is left in the bag, please! Love ya!” she yelled and slammed her bedroom door shut.

He laughed under his breath.

“Wild child,” he muttered.

He stepped over to the bag on the couch and peered inside. Two pints of ice cream. One of strawberry cheesecake and one of vanilla caramel fudge. He took the latter to the freezer and opened up the former.

“Love you too, Maddie,” he called to her room.

He plopped himself down on the couch with the pint of ice cream and briefly was at a loss of what to do. Play games? Watch a movie? Talk to Leslie? Play piano? Too many options. Talking to Leslie sounded nice, though he felt that he’d done enough talking and thinking and feeling for one day. He picked up his phone.

[JEREMY_LESLIE_CONVERSATION_START_20:08]

JB: Hey Leslie. Just finished talking to Madison about… many things. Overall, it went pretty well. I’m sure it’s not perfect, but it was a good talk to have. Thanks for being there to talk today. It really made a difference. Today has been very tiring, so I think I’m going to spend tonight trying to relax, since we’re not at the lab. I can tell you more about what happened tonight tomorrow, or soon, whenever we get the chance. You should take a break tonight, too. I think we both deserve it. Have a good night; see you tomorrow.

LG: Hey Jeremy! Glad to hear it all went well. Happy to help! Thanks for letting me know. Looking forward to hearing more about it, when you feel ready. You actually caught me while I was adding to our paper on the Google Drive. 😅 It is kinda late now, maybe I’ll call it a night and treat myself too! You have a good night, too. See you bright and early! 🤗

[JEREMY_LESLIE_CONVERSATION_END_20:12]

Jeremy dropped his phone back on the couch, started up the Nintendo Switch and stretched out his legs on their coffee table. Madison wasn’t kidding when she said she’d beaten all of his high scores. And she unlocked two new characters, too. He really had been falling behind. He pressed the start button and could see himself grinning in the reflection of the TV while the screen was black as the game loaded.

Tonight, he would reclaim his rightful place as number one on the leader-board.

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