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leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

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notable moments from The Future Job

leverage 2.13

Nate: Yeah, belief perseverance. People cling even tighter to their beliefs after they've been shown evidence contradicting them.

🥰 psych terms 🥰

- - - - -

Nate: All right, don't worry. This guy, Rand, is gonna pay. We're gonna make sure of that.

Ryan: I'm not here asking for money, Mr. Ford. I just want my sister back.

another noble client 😌

- - - - -

Parker: So this is where he shoots his show, huh? Surrounded by warehouses and storage lockers?

Nate: Well, it's, uh, local cable access. He's, uh, self financing. They're probably trying to score a bigger payday. Network or something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, you're right about that. I've hacked Rand's website, stole his passwords and used 'em to access his e-mail. You know, this man has his computer hooked up to the city's free Wi-Fi? My nana could hack this thing.

- - - - -

Woman (to Parker): Who are you hoping comes through today?

Parker: Nothing. What, uh, nobody. I don't wanna talk to anybody.

Nate: What's wrong?

Parker: I just don't like psychics, OK? They freak me out.

Nate: OK, just relax. All right? We're just here to see what tricks Rand has up his sleeve. That's all. Just..

- - - - -

Tara: What is that smell?

Hardison: What smell? I just washed this thing. You could eat off the floor.

Tara: No, there's a smell.

someone make a compilation of people disrespecting the van and hardison Not Having It™

- - - - -

Rand: It's, uh, It's not a gecko. You've shut yourself off to the energies that are around us. But, your friend here, she's a little more receptive.

(Parker fidgets)

Rand: In fact, I think I'm getting an energy right now. It's definitely family. Is it your father? No. No, it's a sibling. Brother.

(Parker looks down)

Rand: You were both very young. It was an accident. I see a road. I see a car. But your brother's not in the car. He's in the street. Wheels. I see wheels. A skateboard. No, a bicycle. Was he riding a bicycle when he was struck? He's been gone a long time from you now.

(Parker tries not to cry)

Rand: He's sorry that he had to leave you. He knows that you feel responsible, but he wants you to know it was an accident. You taught him to ride that bike, didn't you?

(Parker runs out of the studio)

Rand: That's all right. Sometimes people aren't ready to hear what the spirits have to say.

(Nate gets up and follows Parker out)

[Interior Van]

Tara: Damn.

Hardison: Damn.

Tara: He is good.

Hardison: He should be shot

this is heartbreaking but also see how hardison IMMEDIATELY wants to hurt the guy because NOBODY has the right to hurt parker like that. he cares about her so deeply, your honor

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker is sitting on the floor near the couch when the others walk in)

Nate: Parker?

Parker: There's no way he coulda known that stuff. I've never told anyone. No one. Ever.

this scene made my heart HURT

Nate: But, Parker, he didn't know anything.

Parker: No, Nate. You said we'd find a trick up his sleeve. You said we'd find a trick. Well, we didn't find a trick, did we? He knew things. He's really psychic.

Eliot: He's not a psychic, Parker. He's just a con man.

Nate: He just did a cold read on you. That's all.

Tara: He asked questions and used your answers to guide him.

Parker: But I didn't say anything (her voice cracks)

Nate: You didn't have to. Can I show you something?

(Hardison pulls up a feed of the show on the monitors)

Nate: Right, right there. Do you remember when he asked you, "Is this energy that I'm getting, does it have anything to do with your father?" Do you remember? Well, you furrowed your eyebrow. You might as well have told him, "No."

Tara: And then, when he keyed in on your brother, right here. Your eyes widened just slightly. He knew he was on the right track.

Hardison: Then he just guessed, Parker. He got a hit when he said that you were both very young and he just went with the odds. An accident of some kind.

Parker: But he knew about the bicycle.

Nate: No, he didn't. 'Cause what happened was he said "wheels," and then he moved on. He said "skateboard." You told him about the bicycle.

Parker: No, I didn't say anything.

Nate: You had a certain tell, Parker. Your mouth opened just a little bit. Enough for him to register your surprise. Then, well, he just guessed.

Tara: He used all these things during the reading. How your breathing changed, if your shoulders were raised or slouched, how you were holding your hands, if your, if your lips were pursed.

Parker: What about the other people? He knew names and relationships.

Nate: Yeah, the hot read. What he does is he researches before the show, gets himself armed with as much information as possible to help him with the readings. It's not really that much different than what we do.

Parker: But he doesn't know who's gonna be in the audience ahead of time.

Nate: Well, no. No, he doesn't. He doesn't know until they're there.

WHEN HER VOICE CRACKED I LOST IT

“but he knew about the bicycle” HER VULNERABLE SAD VOICE

- - - - -

Tara: So what do we do now?

Parker: Cut off his arms. And his head. Yeah. I wanna kill him. Can we make that happen?

Eliot: Yeah. I can... I mean, I could...

okay but THIS SCENE

IT HAS MY WHOLE (WHOLE) HEART

eliot, who has SWORN OFF killing, sees parker in such distress and hurt that he offers to bring back that part of his past for her.

he knows she’d never ask that of him, though, which is partially one of the reasons he felt comfortable offering. she would never abuse his past like that, even with how hurt she was and some part of him knows that when he speaks

he’d do anything for her because he loves her, even in season two. send tweet.

- - - - -

Rand: You wanna know what the trick is?

Wilson: Yeah.

Rand: It's confidence. You believe what you're saying and they'll believe it, too. Doesn't matter how many misses, 'cause it's the hits that they'll remember.

- - - - -

Tara: Two years ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The doctors removed it, but ever since, I guess you could say I was twice blessed. With renewed life, and with this gift.

Rand: You're serious.

(Tara takes his hand and guides it to the back of her head)

Tara: Feel the scar?

Rand: All right, then. Tell me something that only the spirits would know. Tell me about my father. How he died.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Don't worry. I got you, girl.

Eliot: Wait a minute, we didn't give her that scar, did we?

Nate: No. We did not

tara has SO MUCH undiscussed backstory that I desperately want to know

- - - - -

(Rand takes his arms off the table and shakes them, surprised)

Tara: What's wrong?

Rand: I just felt something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Nate had me rig the table with a mild electrical current.

Eliot: You electrocuted him?

Hardison: Yes, I did. It helped sell the bit.

Parker: I approve.

Hardison: Thanks, Parker.

Eliot: No. Her agreein' with you is not a good thing.

Nate: (at Parker) Thanks

eliot when parker suggests something sketchy/morally grey: eh, whatever, I’ll stop her if she goes too far but it’s just who she is

eliot when nate does the Exact Same Thing™: NOPE. GET OUT OF HERE WITH THOSE HORRIFIC IDEAS. BAD NATE. *sprays him with water*

- - - - -

eliot laughing as he tows the car LMFAO RETRIBUTION IS A BITCH

+ hardison with the fortune cookies and the bandana (bonus if parker saved them to eat for breakfast)

+ nate smiling as he almost hits rand with his car

- - - - -

Nate: OK, you ready?

Hardison: You do realize what you're asking me to do is impossible, right?

Nate (hands him orange soda): Here ya go.

Hardison: And my gummy frogs. I need my gummy frogs.

Nate: You serious?

Hardison: Yeah.

(Nate goes and gets the gummy frogs and throws them to Hardison)

GIVE HIM HIS ORANGE SODA AND GUMMY FROGS. HE NEEDS THEM TO WORK!!!

also I LOVE how there is apparently a DRAWER of them in nate’s kitchen

- - - - -

tara squared up to fight too, even ready to brawl without eliot because she’s a BADASS

- - - - -

Tara: Her husband. She thinks he's cheating on her.

Hardison: How'd you know that? All I said was she hired a private investigator.

Eliot: Married woman in her 40s? She's not looking for the Maltese Falcon

maltese falcon? foreshadowing anyone???

- - - - -

Parker: So, what, Kusen has a secret and he's gonna kill Rand so he doesn't reveal it? That'd be good.

Eliot: No, you wanna kill someone you don't get out and throw 'em in a van. You don't get out of your seat

- - - - -

also this is like the third (?) episode in a row where eliot has lil braids in his hair, it’s adorable but I wonder if it’s significant ???

+ parker changed and now she’s wearing a pretty blue flannel

- - - - -

also apparently to get a paper seem old you crumple it a LOT and then sandpaper it??? (according to parker in this episode)

- - - - -

(Down the aisle, Hardison, Eliot and Parker round a corner moving boxes toward a storage unit)

Hardison: We need more boxes.

Parker: And a lot of luck.

Eliot: Yeah, well, I think we used all our luck on finding this place.

Hardison: Wait, hold, hold...

(Hardison tapes something to the back wall of the unit as the others move boxes)

Hardison: You know what? It ain't luck, OK? Finding the perfect place to end the treasure hunt is a testimony to my intellectual prowess.

(Eliot drops a box on Hardison’s foot)

Hardison: Ow. (Parker laughs)

Eliot: What? It's baby clothes.

Hardison: It says "books," man.

Eliot: Does it?

chaotic ot3

- - - - -

eliot next to parker with his head resting on his arm is v cute

- - - - -

the whole fam was there to gloat vengefully with parker and I love that for her

- - - - -

Tara: They do make a cute pair, don't they?

Nate: Let's see, we got, uh, we got assault, kidnapping and burglary for our friend, Kusen, and garden variety fraud for our psychic friend, Dalton Rand. Any way we can get them in the same prison?

Hardison: That could be arranged

PUT THEM IN THE SAME PRISON

- - - - -

Jodie: A part of me knew it wasn't real, but I didn't care. I missed Mike so much. I wanted to see him again so bad.

Nate: You will see him again. Maybe it'll be a look. (looks at Jodie’s pregnant stomach) Maybe it'll be a gesture. Maybe it'll be the way he spreads peanut butter on a slice of bread. But when you see it, you'll know and you'll say, "That's Mike." And you know what? That's a miracle no one could ever sell you.

Jodie: Thank you, Mr. Ford.

(Jody and Ryan get up and head for the door)

Tara: (eyes watering) Now I see why you do it.

- - - - -

(Parker stops Jody and Ryan before they leave)

Parker: Before you go, this is for your sister and the baby.

Ryan (looks in envelope): What is this?

Parker: It's the money Rand took from your sister. All of it.

Ryan: I don't know what to say.

(Ryan hugs Parker who reluctantly hugs him back before they leave. Parker sits down at the bar with Hardison and Eliot)

Eliot: Wait a sec. I thought you said all of Rand's money went into paying for his show. I thought you said he was broke.

Hardison: It did. He was.

Eliot: Where'd the money come from? Did you guys find the stolen money? Hmm? Did you find Kusen's loot?

(Parker and Hardison just look at Eliot)

Eliot: Without... Unbelievable. Hmm? (walks away)

Parker: He who looks for hidden money shall find it, if he is also a thief.

(Parker and Hardison clasp hands)

there are so many things about this I want to talk about:

1. parker showing emotion and vulnerability talking to ryan and being startled and uncomfortable when the hug starts but slowly relaxing into it a little bit

2. eliot’s MAJOR fomo with parker and hardison,,, it’s adorable. poor baby

3. THEIR HAND CLASP YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a flannel in the final scene

also, you know how you can tell so many of the team is lgbt (parker, hardison, eliot)?

THE F L A N N E L S

THE P L A I D

as a bisexual I can #confirm there is way too much to be a coincidence it’s a Science™ I promise

#leverage 2.13 #leverage 2x13 #the future job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 years ago

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I Won’t Tell ‘Em Your Name

Summary: After a failed attempt on her life by her husband, the reader is forced into witness protection and a new home where she meets her new neighbor, Dean Winchester, who may be exactly what she needs...

Pairing: Neighbor!Dean x reader

Word Count: 7,200ish

Warnings: language, lil bit of violence, mention of injury

“Hi, I’m Y/N Smith,” you said. “Hi I’m Y/N Smith. I’m Y/N Smith. Y/N Smith. I’m Y/N Smith...and there’s no way I can do this.”

You groaned as you sat down on the new couch, looking around the nicely furnished home. It honestly was very nice, pretty new and in a normal situation, you were sure you would have loved it.

Except for the fact you were stuck in witness protection and your whole life had changed overnight.

Well, not overnight. It’d been about three days since your husband had snapped. He was convinced you were having an affair that you weren’t. You were angry with yourself for not saying anything sooner. You’d seen him grow more agitated, easily upset, controlling you for the past year at least. But he told you to leave it be so you did because deep down you probably knew you’d get to the same place, only faster.

Walking into the kitchen, you grabbed the roll of fresh bandages from the counter. The one on your arm hadn’t been changed since lunchtime at some highway pitstop and the other one not since you woke up several states ago. It took a moment to find the downstairs bathroom.

You nodded when you found it cleaned and stocked, much like everything else you’d come across in the house. The bandage on your arm was easy to do on your own, the stitches not too bad looking but you’d have a scar. Hopefully you could find some cream at the store tomorrow.

If you could remember which way you had to drive to get out of suburbia that was.

When the arm was finished, you peeled off your shirt, wincing as the tape tugged at your skin. You peeled back the big square sticky bandage on your chest, just above your heart apparently. The area was bruised and you had a gash there as well but you got lucky. The knife hit your rib cage and took the hit for you. A little more either way and it would have slipped and gone plunging in.

“You always did have terrible aim, Shane,” you mumbled, slapping the new bandage on. You wanted a nice long and hot shower. But it was getting late and you couldn’t take one of those until your cuts healed some more.

Besides, tomorrow you were supposed to start you new life as Y/N Smith and you still hadn’t memorized anything about who you were supposed to be.

You woke up to light filtering in through the windows, a nice warm bed and the sound of glass shattering. You bolted up in bed, rushing to the bedroom door and locking it. The doorbell rang about twenty seconds later. It rang again and you grabbed the bat from the closet. Your phone was sitting conveniently down on the kitchen counter and even though the alarm system was hooked up, you didn’t think it’d do you much good.

The doorbell rang again and you took a deep breath, gripping the bat tight as you sprinted out of the hall and down the stairs, ripping open the front door.

The guy at the door looked you up and down, noticing your bandages as you noticed the little boy standing in front of him. You dropped the bat behind you and shoved it aside, giving him a smile.

“Hi. I’m Y/N Smith. Can I help you?” you asked. The man smirked a little but reigned it in, giving you a friendly smile in return.

“I’m Dean, Winchester, and I live just next door to you on the right. This little dude is my nephew, Tim, and Tim wants to tell you something, doesn’t he?” said Dean, nudging the boy’s shoulder.

“Uncle De…” he whined. Dean nudged the boy again, a long exasperated sigh leaving the eight year old’s tiny body. “I was playing in Uncle De’s backyard and I hit a ball and it went through your window. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, I know you must have just moved in last night,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your homeowners is kicked in, right?”

“Uh,” you said, assuming there was something in this type of incident and how to react at the bottom of your very important binder you had yet to finish reading.

“Here,” said Dean, reaching into his wallet and handing over all the cash he had in it. “That should cover it and hopefully not mark me down on the shitty neighbor list already.”

“Uh, thanks,” you said, the boy looking up at Dean.

“Can I have my ball back?” he asked.

“Why don’t you ask Y/N politely?” asked Dean.

“Can I have my ball please?” he asked. You spun around, looking for wherever it wound up. You spotted it in the back near the kitchen, walking there as you slowly heard the boy step into your foyer and Dean scold him. “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” you said, bending down and grabbing it, spotting the broken window in your side hall. You gave him the ball back, the boy taking off down your front porch and to the house to your right.

“Sorry about that…and the waking you up...and scaring you,” he said, a light pink making its way to his cheeks.

“Oh, I was fine,” you said, waving him off.

“You always answer the door with a baseball bat then?” he teased, biting his bottom lip when you looked down. “This is a safe neighborhood. I wouldn’t worry about anything.”

“Yeah,” you said, starting to feel his gaze on your bandages again. “I should clean up that glass.”

“Okay. Like I said, I’m right next door if you ever need something,” said Dean, rocking back on his heels once before turning around and walking across the lawn. You locked up tight after him, leaning your head against the door and taking deep breaths. You barely had the glass swept up when the doorbell rang again. The mailman was delivering a package it looked like, your gaze squinting up at the muscular man behind the dark shades.

“Your silent alarm was tripped,” he said, handing you the box. “Are you-”

“Neighbor’s nephew threw a foul ball through the window,” you said. “Agent.”

“In the future please remember to carry your phone on you at all times. We tried calling but could not reach you. We deemed it was a neighbor issue and not a threat so we didn’t intervene,” he said.

“How long are you going to sit outside my house?” you asked.

“Technically this is the government’s house,” he said.

“Oh lovely. Another one of you with a stick up your ass,” you said.

“You are no longer on surveillance after this morning. You will receive daily phone-”

“Phone calls from my handler. Yes, I remember from the crash course. How about you guys focus on catching my soon to be ex-husband instead?” you said.

“Have a good day, Ms. Smith,” he said, leaving you with the box. It was heavy and you brought it upstairs, a photo album and fake things that were supposed to be personal items inside.

“How am I supposed to do this?”

“Argh!” you shouted. You spent your first few days inside mostly, running to the store once. A part of you thought maybe they’d find Shane and arrest him and you could go back to your old life. The life filled with Shane and Shane’s friends and Shane’s family and doing what Shane wanted all the time. That’s when you got pissed off and decided you were going to go wash your new car like a normal person did on a Saturday morning.

Only, you didn’t have a nozzle for your hose.

“Everything alright?” shouted Dean, waxing his car in his driveway. He was definitely a car guy, single too from what you could tell. There wasn’t a whole lot to do but people watch on your neighbors.

“Yup. I’m awesome!” you called back, kicking over your bucket of soapy water in the process. You heard Dean laugh behind you, something thudding onto your driveway. You peeked your head around the car and saw a nozzle laying on the ground, Dean back to waxing. You opened your mouth to say something but he was humming along to his radio, not paying you any attention.

After attaching the nozzle, you quickly washed the car, grumpily too, trying to get back inside as fast as possible.

“Thanks,” you said, walking across the yards and holding out the nozzle, Dean popping his head up from the end of the car.

“No problem,” he said, frowning slightly when you raised an eyebrow. “You can just set it down. My hands are covered in this stuff.”

“Ok,” you said, squatting down too fast, landing flat on your bottom. Slow, you knew you were supposed to go slow. The medicine you were on could mess with your balance if you didn’t.

“You okay there?” he asked when you took your time getting to your feet. You nodded as you stood up, Dean glancing back at your house. “You live alone right? Take my number. Give me a call if you ever need help.”

“I’m fine,” you said, blood pumping in your ears. You hadn’t realized he’d left until he was shoving a cold bottle of water in your hands, ordering you to drink. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“Moving is stressful in addition to…” he said, not quite saying he’d seen your bandages a few days earlier. “Better now?”

“Yeah,” you said, getting to your feet with his help. “You’re strong.”

“You gonna be okay to go back to your house yourself?” he asked. You let go of his arm and nodded, giving him a smile.

“Thanks for the nozzle, Dean,” you said, Dean walking carefully back to your yard and tidying up before hiding away for the rest of the day.

Around dinner time you went out to your back porch, wishing you had your favorite flannel or sweatshirt to wrap around yourself. Stuff was just stuff after all, it shouldn’t bother you that you didn’t have it anymore. You had plenty of new things, new clothes, a new flannel on.

It still all felt so off.

There was a mug in the kitchen you’d take a liking to. You’d been drinking coffee out of it the past few days and now you were sitting on the back porch, sipping on a cup of hot cocoa from it. That part felt a little bit normal at least.

You heard a pair of laughs to your left, Dean standing over a fire pit with a hot dog on a stick, someone taller than him drinking a beer. You watched them for a while as the sun started to set, the man with the beer eating a few hot dogs and talking with Dean for a while until he left. You were starting to feel chilly and went to head inside when you heard a whistle.

“Y/N! Come here!” said Dean. Turning around you pretended not to hear him. “Come on!”

You grumbled as you padded over the dew covered grass with wet feet, Dean chuckling when he saw you wrapping your arms yourself.

“You like s’mores? My brother had to head home but I figured why let the food go to waste,” he said.

“I should…” you said, taking a deep breath, remembering your briefing. You had to act normal, let people know Y/N Smith. “Why not?”

“Grab a chair,” said Dean, nodding back to a lawn chair a ways off. You dragged it over close to the fire, warming up some before Dean handed you a hot smore.

“Thanks,” you said, blowing on it before taking a bite. It was warm, gooey and not burnt. You gave him a thumbs up and he made one for himself, taking a seat beside you.

“Your window got fixed I saw,” he said, poking at the fire. “Sorry about that.”

“S’okay. No one got hurt,” you said. Dean hummed, continuing to play with the fire. “You live alone too?”

“Mhm. My brother was out of town on a business trip this week and my sister in law was stuck at a work conference so Tim was staying with me a few days. But other than that, I’m normally on my own too,” he said.

“I like your house. The style I mean,” you said.

“Yeah. It’s nice. Big for one person,” he said, giving you a smile again. “I don’t remember ever seeing an open house for yours.”

“Oh it was in the family. It was left to me,” you said.

“Really? A young couple lived there a few years ago. I thought they moved,” he said.

“Oh they did,” you said quickly. “It actually belonged to a family friend and they were letting their nephew stay there for awhile.”

“But didn’t they have that house built?” asked Dean.

Shit. You couldn’t remember the right answer to give.

“They had a lot of input but it wasn’t really theirs. Our family friend had knee issues pop up and the stairs would have been too much and I got it for a decent price since the other guys left,” you said. Dean seemed to buy it, stopping with the line of questioning.

“Did you move for work?” he asked. You could tell he wasn’t trying to be nosy, simply get to know you better.

“I work from home,” you said.

“Lucky,” he said with a teasing grin. “No traffic for you to deal with.”

“What do you do?” you asked, rubbing your bare legs, inching closer to the fire.

“This and that,” said Dean. “I’m working in a garage at the moment. I do construction on the side occasionally for some spending cash. I’m like the red headed step child of the neighborhood.”

“Everyone seems friendly,” you said, Dean snickering.

“I don’t mean to give you the impression that people here are assholes. I’m just a bit of an oddball living on the fancy street with the accountants and real estate agents and lawyers and doctors. S’just not where I thought I’d end up,” he said.

“Me either,” you said, pulling your knees into your chest, tugging your flannel over your legs. He stood up and went inside, exiting his back door a minute later with a pair of beers and a thick fleece blanket. He handed it to you along with the beer. He didn’t make idle chit chat, didn’t ask anymore questions. He just sat, watching the fire, watching the stars start to peak out, watching you.

“You okay?” he asked. You turned your head towards him, wondering what he meant when your cheeks felt cold. They were wet, your tongue darting out and tasting the salt from dried tear streaks.

“Yeah. It’s just been a really long week,” you said with a smile. “I should get going. I have some chores I wanted to take care of in the morning.”

“Alright,” he said quietly. You gobbled down the last of your beer, neatly folding up his blanket and handing it back. “Go ahead and keep it. It gives me an excuse to come bother you again.”

“You don’t bother me,” you said softly. He smiled, nodding for you to keep the blanket.

“Walk home safe,” he said. You let the blanket wrap around yourself and went back to your house, making sure all the doors and windows were locked, the silent alarm system on. You curled up in the blanket on top of your bed, sighing comfortably.

You woke up late the next day, the blanket smelling smoky and warm and pleasant the night before lulling you easily into sleep. You liked it. It was something personal and you had half a mind to keep it for yourself.

You heard a crash downstairs and you jogged down there, the doorbell ringing as you hit the bottom step. You padded over, Dean with his hands on his face, the tall man from the night before with him.

“Hi Y/N,” said Dean, his face red. “So uh…”

“Did Tim hit a baseball through my window again?” you asked.

“No. His dad did though,” said Dean, pointing at the tall man. “This is my baby brother, Sam.”

“Tim broke a window?” asked Sam, momentarily distracted before he was reaching into his back pocket. “I am so sorry.”

“Maybe you guys should play baseball in the other direction from now on?” you asked with a smile. Sam continued to pull out his wallet, handing you a few hundred dollars.

“Dean said your insurance isn’t kicked in yet,” said Sam. “Sorry. Again.”

“It’s okay, really,” you said. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam before hanging his head low. “Dean, it’s okay.”

“Hey, we’re having a cookout around lunch if you want to swing by for some burgers,” said Sam. “It’s our treat.”

“Sure,” you said, Sam pausing a beat before he turned and jogged down the steps, Dean shaking his head. “So...is everyone in your family bad at baseball?”

“It must be a recessive gene,” he said with a smirk. “I couldn’t believe he did that. Your window is like two days old.”

“Yeah well, crappy luck is all I seem to have lately,” you said with a smile, leaning against your doorframe. You saw him tense up for the briefest of moments. “Well, not all crappy.”

“I’ll see you soon then,” he said, looking you up and down. “Weren’t you wearing those clothes last night?”

“I might have fallen asleep in that blanket last night,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “I can bring it back over later.”

“Nah. You seem like you’re going through something right now. Hang on to it. It’s good for when you’re feeling like shit,” he said. “Trust me.”

“I don’t feel like shit,” you said. Dean raised an eyebrow, eyes darting to your arm and chest where he knew you were injured. “I was in a car accident recently.”

“You really are having crappy lucky lately,” he said with a teasing grin. “Keep the blanket. You up for trying a Winchester deluxe at the cookout?”

“Sure?” you said, Dean chuckling.

“One Winchester deluxe coming up,” he said, hopping off the porch. You shook your head as you went to the hall, cleaning the glass again and putting in a call to your handler to have it fixed.

“Are you guys any closer to finding Shane?” you asked, the handler going quiet. “Is that a no?”

“You will be informed of any changes. Please speak with your neighbor about refraining from breaking any more windows. It comes out of the taxpayers pockets,” said your handler, hanging up before you could get in another word.

“Will nice talking to you too, Agent,” you said, rolling your eyes. You shoved Sam’s money into the drawer where you’d tossed Dean’s, figuring having a few extra bucks laying around in case you had to run was a good idea.

“Hi,” you said, poking your head in Dean’s backyard a few hours later. There were a few small kids playing, the adults standing around talking and drinking, Dean giving you a wave. “I made cookies if that’s okay.”

“Aren’t you supposed to make her the baked goods, Deano? Not the other way around?” said a big guy, nudging Dean with a laugh.

“I just break her windows,” said Dean, taking the plate from you. “You didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” you said, Dean going through a quick run through of names, your brain finally clicking into overdrive. A lot of new faces. A lot of new people that would ask questions.

Nothing like trial by fire.

“Beer’s in the cooler and I think the girls have wine inside?” asked Dean, a tall blonde woman grabbing your arm. “Don’t get her loaded before food, Jess.”

“I’m just getting a refill,” she said, laughing once she’d showed you through his back door, opening up into a kitchen and family room. “You have to excuse my brother in law. He’s acting a bit shy today. Our money’s on you being the reason why.”

“He doesn’t seem all that shy to me,” you said, watching as she grabbed a bottle and refilled her glass, moving around the kitchen to get one for you.

“I think he was more nervous that you’d hate his guts about the windows,” she said. “Oh you got a little smudge.”

She ran her thumb over her jaw and you did the same. She contortured her face before looking away.

“Oh, that’s a bruise,” she said.

“I was in a car accident recently,” you said. “Just a few minor things. I’m fine.”

“I’ll make you a double then.”

“Dean, what the hell is that?” you asked when he carried over your food to the table.

“A Winchester deluxe,” he said, the huge burger covered in cheese, bacon and a week’s worth of grease staring you down. “It’s amazing.”

“It really is,” mumbled Benny, already chowing down on his burger. You braced yourself and took a bite, tasing the heat from jalapenos on there, mouth watering as you shot him a thumbs up.

“S’really good,” you said, Dean sitting down with a smile. It’d been a long time since you enjoyed spending time with other people. Dean’s friends were nice, personable, inviting you in like you’d known them for years. It was starting to get dark out by the time you’d realized you’d spent the day there.

“Alright, alright. We all got work to get to in the morning. Get out of here you rascals,” said Dean. People lingered for a little while, saying their goodbyes until it was just you and Dean. “Y/N, you too. Get out of here.”

“I can help pick up,” you said.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I want to. You fed me, introduced me to some new friends today...it’s the least I can do,” you said. Dean shrugged, thankfully mostly collecting a few stray bottles and cans, helping Dean carry them into his garbage and recycle bins.

“Thanks,” he said, walking back through his house, smirking as you took it in. “You got a bit of sunburn today.”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean chuckling as you followed him into the kitchen, taking a bottle of aloe from him. “Thanks.”

“That’s a little funny,” he said.

“What is?” you asked.

“A girl from Arizona doesn’t know to put sunscreen on,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I forgot,” you said with an easy shrug.

“You’re from New Mexico. Not Arizona,” he said. “Or did you forget what state you’re from too?”

You swallowed and lifted your chin up, setting the bottle down on the counter.

“I only saw you slip up the once today,” said Dean.

“I’m tired and was drinking and I made a mistake,” you said, reaching for his backdoor when he moved in front of it.

“Maybe if you weren’t so...I would have believed that. But you’re hiding something. I know it,” he said.

“Don’t talk to me anymore,” you said, turning to go for his front door.

“I didn’t say you have to tell me. Something is going on with you. I think you’re a good person. But whatever you’re hiding from...just be careful,” he said.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you said.

“Right. Of course you aren’t,” he said, leaning back against his counter. You rolled your eyes and went out his front door, wondering if you could just stay inside for the rest of your life.

“What?” you asked when your doorbell rang the next day near dinner. Dean looked tired but he had your clean plate, holding it out to you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning and leaving, stopping when you sighed. “I’m guessing you don’t need anymore crap in your life, right?”

“Stay away from me Dean. It’ll be better for you that way,” you said, Dean turning back up the steps.

“Do you want me to stay away from you?” he asked, cocking his head. “We were starting to become friends there for a minute.”

“I don’t have a good life and I want you stay out of it and be happy, okay?” you said, Dean tsking you.

“I mean, I’m in your life and I’m awesome so how can you not have a good life?” he asked with a shit eating smile.

“You…” you said, hating that somehow he managed to put a tiny smile on your face.

“Take it from someone who knows how it feels to be alone, to think you’re alone...it’s easier when you have a friend,” he said. You gave him a nod. “I’ll see you around. I hope.”

“Maybe you will,” you said, Dean giving you a smile, good enough for now.

You kept things friendly with him, saying hello when you saw him outside, talking for a few minutes as he did odds and ends after work. You were starting to enjoy the house apart as you spent more time there, apart from how big it felt at night.

It was Friday night and you just couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep all by yourself again. You had Dean’s number and his lights were still on so he probably wasn’t in bed yet.

“Hello?” he asked, answering the phone.

“Hey,” you said, feeling your face get hot even if you were alone. “It’s Y/N.”

“What’s up?” he asked. You swallowed and hung up, curling up on your couch with his blanket. Three minutes later you heard a loud banging on the door. You got up and turned on the light, looking down as you answered the door to Dean. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug.

“Well thanks for scaring the shit out of me. I thought you were getting murdered or something,” he said. “You owe me a beer.”

He slipped inside, your head resting against the door as you locked up again. Dean found your kitchen easily, walking into your family room with an unopened bottle.

“What are you scared of?” he asked, running a hand over your head as you sat again.

“Nothing,” you said. Dean walked around and sat down at the other end of the couch, setting the beer aside. “Could you just…”

“I’m gonna make you something to eat,” he said. You groaned but he got up anyways, fussing around in your kitchen, returning later with some chicken noodle soup.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking a sip from the thermos he handed you.

“I like you Y/N Smith,” said Dean, sitting back down. “There’s something I can’t put my finger on what it is but I like you.”

“I’m married,” you said. Dean gave you a long stare before he lifted his chin.

“So?” he asked.

“Dean,” you said, putting the thermos down.

“You’re good, most of the time you are very good at pretending you’re okay. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why a married woman would move into a new house by herself, never wear a wedding ring and look the way you did when we first met,” said Dean. “You left your husband and he didn’t like that so he hurt you.”

Technically he tried to kill you so you left him but Dean didn’t need details and you needed him gone before something happened to him.

“I need you to go,” you said.

“I’m not scared of him,” said Dean. You ran your hands over you face, shaking your head at Dean.

“You don’t know what you’re getting involved in,” you said.

“I don’t care. He’s not going to hurt you again,” said Dean. You shook your head, Dean giving it right back. “Y/N. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

“I want you to leave,” you said.

“I’m not going. You should call the police,” he said. “They can arrest him and-“

“I did call the police!” you shouted at him, taking a deep breath. Dean stayed still, waiting for you to calm down. “He didn’t just hurt me, Dean. Two weeks ago tonight, he tried to kill me. He is after me and he will always be after me.”

“Oh,” he said, giving you a sad smile. “You...you’re in that protection program. That’s why you forgot what state you’re supposed to be from.”

“I just broke the biggest rule there is,” you said. “I need to call my handler and get relocated now.”

“Why?” asked Dean.

“You’re in danger, that’s why,” you said.

“I already told you, he doesn’t scare me,” said Dean. You scrunched up your face.

“I have to go. I’m supposed to go if anyone finds out,” you said, standing up, moving to your hall closet to grab your emergency bag.

“I won’t tell. I promise,” said Dean. You shook your head as you felt him rest a hand on your arm. It took a minute to realize you’d let him turn you around to bury your face into his chest, soothing shushes falling from his lips.

He didn’t try to stop you from leaving but you didn’t really want to go either. For some reason or another, being around him helped calm you down, made you feel safe again.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly. You shook your head, Dean resting his chin on top of it. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Dean put you to bed after you eased up some. You knew he was curious, about everything, but you also knew he’d never ask. He’d simply be there and for now, that was all you wanted.

“Need anything?” asked Dean, setting some water down on the bedside table.

“No, I’m okay,” you said, fixing your blankets, giving Dean a brief glimpse of the scar on your chest. “Is it that noticeable? I got medicine to help it heal but it looks the same to me.”

“I think it looks perfect and you shouldn’t worry about it,” said Dean, tucking your covers up. You opened your mouth to ask him to stay but nothing came out. “I’ll be downstairs on the couch.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“S‘no problem,” he said. “Try to get some sleep.”

The next morning you woke up feeling refreshed. You’d had one of those dead sleeps where not a single thing woke you up all night long. After getting dressed, you spotted Dean passed out on the couch, leg hanging off the edge.

“Morning,” you said, ruffling his hair, Dean groaning awake. “Do you want some coffee? Breakfast?”

“Yes and yes,” he grumbled, grunting as he let out a big stretch. You went to the kitchen, Dean slowly making his way in and settling on a barstool. “You look like you slept well.”

“I did,” you said, sliding a cup of coffee in front of him, Dean taking a long sip.

“Have you ever gone fishing?” he asked.

“When I was a kid,” you said.

“Let’s go fishing today. Fresh air and all that,” he said, running his hand through his hair, sticking it up even further.

“Why would we do that?” you asked, pulling out eggs from the fridge, getting to work on heating up a pan.

“It’s fun. You are allowed to do fun things you know,” he said, yawning and wrapping his hands around the mug.

“Alright, we can go fishing, even though it’s boring,” you said. Dean scoffed, putting a hand to his chest. “Drama queen.”

“Maybe today you’ll remember your sunscreen,” he teased.

“You’ll put the worm on the hook for me?” you asked. Dean hummed, taking a plate of scrambled eggs from you when they finished.

“We’ll pack up a cooler with a few sandwiches and head out in just a little while.”

“Hey,” said Dean, turning down the radio on the drive home. You lifted your head up, the breeze from the window lessening as you turned to face him. “You looked happy today.”

“I was,” you said. “I like fishing more than I thought I did.”

“Is your real name Y/N?” he asked quietly.

“They let me keep my first name. It was the only thing they let me keep,” you said.

“Well, Y/N, you’re very good at fishing,” he said. You rolled your eyes but smiled at your lap anyways. “So ordinarily I wouldn’t ask a married woman such a question but given the circumstances I think it’s okay for me to say, would you like to go on another date tomorrow?”

“Dean. I like you. But you have a family. You have a young nephew that stays over at your house sometimes. If you start to get anything more than friendly with me and Shane finds out-”

“Is this one of those witness protection rules or a Y/N rule?” he asked.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me,” you said. Dean hummed and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Y/N. I will gladly get hurt for you because that is not the way you treat a woman, or anybody, ever. If you’ll let me, I got your back,” said Dean. “If you want me to, I’ll back off, just be friends. You don’t have to go through this by yourself, whatever you choose.”

“You know you’re like too good to be true, right? You’re sweet, you don’t push, you’d put yourself in danger for me,” you said.

“And I happen to be an excellent kisser,” he teased.

“Everyday they don’t find him makes it more likely that he’ll find me Dean,” you said.

“You ain’t scaring me off, sweetheart so you can stop trying,” he said. “So we got a date?”

“Yeah, you got yourself a date, Winchester.”

“Thanks for today,” you said, lingering by Dean’s door when you got back to his house. “And what you said.”

“Anytime,” he said. You smiled and leaned up, kissing his lips quickly and pulling back. “So I suppose you made up your mind about what you want then?”

“Yeah. Something tells me you’ll work out better than the last one,” you said.

“I can guarantee it,” he said, dipping his head, delivering an actual kiss, letting you feel the softness of his lips. He was gentle, not like you would break if he put more force behind it but he was perfectly content with going slowly for you.

“You are pretty good at that,” you said teasingly, Dean grinning hard. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Mhm. Have a goodnight. Call if you get scared over there,” he said.

“I will,” you said, another kiss landing on your cheek before you grabbed your backpack and walked across the yard. You jogged up to your front porch, slipping inside. You did a quick check of the doors and windows before you went upstairs and showered, laughing to yourself.

Maybe you could get something good out of this whole situation.

You left your damn phone in your backpack.

Downstairs.

You looked around the dark room, staring at the window in the bathroom. You jogged inside and opened it as quietly as you could, sneaking out through it, stepping onto the roof of your back porch. You tried to keep low and out of view, stilling as you got to the edge on the roof.

“Please don’t break anything,” you whispered to yourself, jumping off and landing on the grass. You had a few new bruises but you felt intact and were sprinting across the yard into Dean’s before you knew it. You banged on his back door, cursing when a light flicked on, a shout coming from your open bathroom window.

You saw Dean through the window panes, a confused and sleepy look on his face as he realized it was you. He quickly ran over and let you in, locking up behind you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling you with him.

“He’s-“ you said, glass breaking behind you.

“Upstairs. Hide. Call the police,” said Dean, dragging you with him up the stairs. You could tell Shane wasn’t far behind, Dean grunting when he threw his weight against his bedroom door and he had to fight to keep it shut. “Y/N. Call. Now.”

You dialed and barely told them you needed the police before Dean was asking for your help.

“I have a gun, in the safe in the closet. Get it,” said Dean. You scrambled over there, trying to concentrate as Dean told you the code. You just had the door open when you heard Dean grunt loudly. You grabbed the gun and saw Dean on the ground, panting as Shane stood over him, a blade in his hand.

“You been sleeping with my wife?” he asked.

“No,” said Dean. “She never slept with anybody except for your pathetic ass.”

You saw Shane raise his knife, Dean rolling and kicking it out of Shane’s hands. You watched them wrestle for a few moments, Dean looking like he was getting the upper hand until Shane hit him in the head. Dean slumped down, trying to get back up as Shane hit him again.

“Hey!” you shouted, Shane turning his attention on you. Dean shook his head and shot up like a bullet, putting Shane in a headlock.

“Y/N, move that knife away from him,” said Dean, Shane growing lax as Dean held him. But then he lifted his arm and popped Dean in the face, crawling out of the hold. He grabbed the knife and brought it down hard, straight for Dean’s chest.

You squeezed the trigger, a splash of blood hitting Dean’s white bedspread. Dean wrestled the knife away from Shane, shoving him aside as he got to his feet.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Shane spat out, hand clutching his shoulder. Dean walked over and took the gun from you, taking a deep breath.

“You move and I guarantee, I’m going to kill you,” said Dean, cocking the gun. “And It won’t be a shoulder hit either, buddy.”

“So…” you said, leaning against the back of an ambulance, wrapped up in a thick blanket as Dean groaned on a gurney. “I guess I owe you one.”

“I have a concussion. You’re driving my ass everywhere the next two weeks,” he said, a smirk tugging it’s way onto his lips. “You could have warned me he was built like the hulk.”

“But I had the amazing Dean Winchester watching my back. I knew you could handle it,” you teased.

“I so had it covered,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for stopping me from being Swiss cheese back there.”

“S’no problem,” you said, running hand through his hair, Dean’s eyes closing. “No. Paramedics said you have to stay awake. We’re going to the hospital real soon.”

“It’s three in the morning, I want to go to sleep,” he said.

“Sorry. We have to make sure you’re alright first,” you said.

“You alright?” he asked. You hummed and Dean nodded. “Then I’m good.”

“Okay. Tell that to the doctor,” you said, a paramedic walking back over, shoving his gurney inside. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Hey,” you said the next day in the late afternoon. Dean was sporting a few bruises but otherwise looked okay. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Come on in. You can make me dinner,” he said.

“Oh really? Is that how this is gonna go?” you asked, Dean chuckling.

“Nah. I was going to order pizza,” he said. “You’re welcome to a slice.”

“Thanks. I heard there was an incident at the hospital with Shane,” you said.

“A med student didn’t restrain him properly and I think he wanted to finish the job. A lot of anger issues with that guy,” said Dean.

“I heard he was-“

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. Just be happy about that,” said Dean. “How’d you even end up with him?”

“I went out one night with a friend. She started talking to Shane’s friend and that left us two alone. We sort of just stuck together. My friend broke up with Shane’s buddy but we just stayed together. By that point I...I don’t know. I didn’t want to know what happened if I made him mad I guess. Turns out I made him mad anyways,” you said.

“Just so we’re clear, you are free to leave my ass anytime you want,” said Dean.

“I’ll take that under consideration. But I wouldn’t worry about that happening,” you said.

“Why would I? I mean, I’m awesome after all,” he said. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on his couch, Dean looking like he’d spent most of the day crashing there. “I’ll grab a menu.”

He came back a minute later, sitting down beside you with a sigh, curling you into his side as he let you pick out what you wanted. After he called to order, he sat you up and pulled you back into his chest.

“Hey,” you said tilting your head back. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” he said, giving you a big hug. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

@baconlover001 @emilymorgan1994 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xfanqirlinq @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper @xxwinchester-22xx

@zeusmyster @atc74 @aingealcethlenn @pillow223 @alilianamendez @dancingalone21 @smoothdogsgirl @docharleythegeekqueen @jaelami @roxyspearing @kickasscas67 @gallifreyansass @untitled39887 @charliebradbury1104 @quiddy-writes @arryn-nyxx @poukothenerd @feelmyroarrrr @mrsbatesmotel53 @idalinette @evyiione @jayankles @samisimportant @maddieburcham1 @demonic-meatball @hey-um-misha @flufy07 @its-not-a-tulpa @whit85-blog @mrswhozeewhatsis @extreme-supernatural-lover @spn-ficfanatic @starry-chaos @blushingokoye

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inkdemon-whore · 3 years ago

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as someone who likes to dry flowers to add to my pretty lil vase, flower crows are hard

well they're not hard hard, they're pretty easy to start, but seemingly a bit difficult to master

i know for most ppl making a flower crown would be like, fuckin, wire n shit, or if it's just with flowers they'll make it for that day, and then maybe leave it for the worms n stuff to nibble on

but as someone who likes to keep and dry flowers, bro what the fuck, how do--

(this is kinda long, and idk how many of ya'll are even interested, so it's under the cut)

like the last one i made, first of all, fell apart when i was trying to close it off, and drying it, i loosely ziptied it to the hanger that i have at my window. here's what happened to it!

now, it's not BAD, but.... it's bad :/

problem 1, using flowers ofter it's been raining, probably not a good choice, but idk how much it really effected, but the flowers where more springy

problem 2, not tight enough. when making this it was falling apart, meaning things where not tight, and it shows in the dried version with big loops (but for all I know that's inevitable)

problem 3, not enough flowers. when it's fresh it looks fine, but dried it's very patchy and bear. I think the best parts or this crown are, ironically, the parts I was struggling to keep together

all around, not great, so I started over, though this time it's a much smaller one as I don't wanna pick what few flowers are left. I haven't used clovers in it, and I've packed the flowers much closer together, so much so that as I was making it, the chain was turning in on itself just a bit, for now imma take that as a good sign, but we'll see when it dries

tips and tricks, when connecting one end of the flower chain to the other to make it a crown, don't be afraid to tie a knot in the flower. Take the first and second flower of the chain, bring them to the end stems, and get a new flower, put it between the first and second, do the same loop you've been doing to combine it with the end stems, but instead of just bringing the stem down, put the stem under the loop you just made and feed it backwards through the loops on the stem side. i did this for the smaller one just to quickly finish it off, but i wold suggest continuing to add flowers at this point to make the first flower end thicker and to hide the stem ends, just do em the same way ya've been doin.

also, if you're doin this outside, just wait to pick a new flower, but if you're a wierdo doin it inside like me, get like a cup of shallow water to put the flowers in, some of my flowers snapped at the stem pretty close to the head, not great. also go slow, loop the stem around the others first, and then bring the stem down, don't be tryin to loop and pull, that'll break the stem

another thing, just for me really, clovers! they curl in on themselves when you dry them, i already knew this, i dried a few, but didn't know if there was even a way to get em to look nice dry without pressing them. HAH, HAHAHAHA, i pressed and hung one as a test, you can do that, it keeps its shape. i know ppl go into a lot of shit about pressing flowers, like books and news paper and shit, you don't need all that, just get some cardboard, paper towels, and tape, the only thing you really need then is patience.

i put a bit of folded over paper towel on some cardboard, did the same to the other side, made a hole for the stem, and sandwiched it together and held it with tape, then hung it at my window like all the other flowers. gravity is gonna pull the cardboard down and might give it a bit of a tilt, but in all honesty, i feel like that makes it look nicer. if you want it more even, maybe try adding rings of loose cardboard on top, carefully of course, to try and balance it out. it'll look as good as the day ya picked it.

one more flower crown related thing, hanging and drying, i should find a way to spin it while it dries. cuz again, gravity, it can make the flowers on the top look flat, and it also messes with the shape which is why i zip tied it. i might get some paper towel role and set them in a way on the hanger to get it to hold it's shape and be able to move it.

also, i know these look very green! they are not irl, my phone camera has decided to over saturate the colors, they're more washed out irl

#al #talk #flower crown

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splitshortsyeah · 4 years ago

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Blu 'Her Favorite Colo(u)r'

-Matt Duelka

Nobody gets to where you need to go without someone there to show you the way. Anyone who tells you otherwise, well, fuck ‘em.

I had a dude, a guy, a mentor if you will, that saw some potential – as small as it may have been – and decided I was worth the trouble. I mean, I wasn’t. BUT NEVERTHELESS, HE PERSISTED.

It’s 2007 and I’m prepping for a radio show during my junior year of college – a classic rap song, some indie dude I came across that might be good, yeah that’s the stuff. I’m pretty oblivious to what’s trending and any artists that have gained traction amongst the internet’s graces – but I like what I know and that’s what I’m gonna play.

“You gotta play this tonight”

*Throws CD at me*

That’s the dude. Anything he said I took as gold, so I scratched a few songs I thought were slappers (they definitely weren’t) and scribbled the ‘Promo Only’ CD into my 2am to 4am set.

“Listen to it first. It’s all fire. This kid is gonna be a game changer.”

I got some time. So I loaded that disc into the 1997 boombox in the corner and began an impromptu lesson on rap.

“Bllllluuuuuuuuuu-uuuu-uuuuuuuuu”

Tuggle was my guy -- DJ Tuggle. First time I met him was when I went to go see about becoming a radio DJ. He said “I just did an interview with Method Man. Fuckin’ A, man.” A few weeks later I was sitting in the staff room, meeting all of the radio DJs. I told them my favorite rap album was Atmosphere’s ‘God Loves Ugly’. As stupid as that was, I think I earned some points for not just going with ‘Illmatic’ or ‘Ready to Die’. Many years and rap debates later I asked Tuggle to DJ my wedding. He asked “You sure?”. No one could have made that night better than he did.

“This kid is from LA. Could be the best rapper ever some day.” Maybe he didn’t say that. But he wanted to. Tuggle knew his shit.

I’m sitting in the staff room listening to ‘Below the Heavens’ by the rapper Blu (produced by another southern LA guy named Exile). FLOORED. Literally, jaw to the filthy, dusty, hasn’t-been-mopped-in-years ground. It wasn’t a typical west coast jawn, though. Exile learned by listening to LA-based Madlib, and Detroit’s King of Beats J Dilla. Blu found Exile while collabing with Aloe Blacc (who was in a group with Exile called Emanon). Blu has said to be influenced incredibly by Common – trying to be a calm and composed -- yet compassionate rapper. Exile saw him perform and loved the style – the two meshed. ‘Below the Heavens’, now, is a way to know if someone knows their shit about rap music. It’s a classic, should be a globally acclaimed masterpiece, but only the folks who know what’s up know how good this album is. So now I’m a Blu STAN, stalking his updates for any bites on new music. Singles and collabs here and there (‘Johnson&Johnson’ – a joint album with Mainframe -- was a solid taste to hold me over) but I needed a bigger plate of Blu to keep satiated.

[Quick break of the 4th wall – I may be cheating because the mixtape I am about to talk about actually came out in 2009 on Blu’s Myspace, but then eventually became an album sometime between 2010 and 2011. I can’t recall, but I wanted to write about it, so here I am, and here we are].

As one does on the internet, one gets lost in the searches, and ‘next’ and ‘next’ and you’re on page 14 with 9 tabs open at 3:30am and you don’t know why you haven’t given it a rest. But that’s when you most likely will come across gold. I can’t recall exactly, but it’s 2009 and I’m probably 10 Busch Beers in and there’s a link on a blog with not much to it.

‘Download BluHerFavoriteColour.mp3’. Sure. Let’s see what the dude is up to. Maybe it’s a new single, maybe he’s on a new track with Exile. Worth checking out.

[Download. Open. Check length] 31mins long. Huh. No tracks, no explanation. Just a 31min track drop at 3am on a Friday. Welp. Here it goes.

[7 plays through on loop later0.

Yeah. I have no idea what this is, but please, give me more.

Blu released ‘Her Favorite Colour’ on his Myspace. Just randomly threw out it there and, artistically, it was one of the inspirational things I had listened, or absorbed, in quite a while. Since ‘Below the Heavens’ had come out, Blu seemed to be evolving. As I mentioned, ‘Below the Heavens’ was a classic. But it was a rapper and a producer doing a thing really, really f’n well. All of Blu’s stuff after that seemed to want more. I compare it to what Phonte (Little Brother, Foreign Exchange) said about a lot of fans complaining that Foreign Exchange’s albums that followed their first one (‘Connected’) weren’t in any way the same, even though ‘Connected’ was also a classic album. Phonte basically said ‘Connected’ was what it was but they could never just do a ‘Connected 2’. They had to move on because they succeeded in what they wanted to do -- but in order to progress as artists, they needed to evolve themselves into something different musically (their future albums’ sound, he has said, is more of why they formed Foreign Exchange in the first place – not just to be a rapper and a producer, but more than that). Blu wanted to do more and ‘Her Favorite Colour’ was his foray into that.

Blu seemed to take sounds and techniques of producers he worked with, but also what he did mostly was want to emphasize his childhood in his music – utilizing gospel-esque sounds and old jazz with a lo-fi mood. At this point, we all knew Blu could rap, so this tape seemed to be a test in the waters of ‘why not?’…what did he have to lose?’

The tape was birthed not just from his inspirations and childhood tunes, but also from a severed relationship which I could only assume, but definitely have no sources to confirm, was the relationship consistently mentioned in ‘Below the Heavens’. Sucks it didn’t work out, but glad something positive could come out of it.

[Billie Holiday “Am I Blue” Horn Solo] “I used to have…”

As is with some other mixtapes, I originally expected some interesting but already very produced beats (maybe renditions of other popular rap) with just Blu rapping over them. But the cover art (or better yet, Thumbnail art?) spoke to me a little different. It was telling me this was something more than a 50 Cent type deal. And from the gun this tape had my eyes open and ears peeled to the speakers. You think you get the jest of what artists are gonna do – or what they should do in order to showcase talent and get you to listen to their jams. Even though this tape isn’t monumental, and the production value isn’t top tier, it takes a lot to be SURPRISED these days, and this was something that even Left Field didn’t have on their radar.

I have to admit, it took me a few days of constant listening to even UNDERSTAND what the tape was. There were no tracks, I couldn’t tell if there were interludes or parts of songs. You couldn’t, and still can’t, pull a few minutes from that tape and try to sell it as a single, or “Hey give this a listen what do you think?” It’s 31mins or bust.

Sure, I’ve probably hyped this tape up to ‘Da Drought 3’ levels, so sue me. But it made an impact for numerous reasons. The first would be the simplicity of it all. Blu took old era jazz, and instead of turboing up a Thelonious Monk piano riff, he cut and lo-fi’d the hell out of it. But I was still sitting in the jazz club. And it was me and the 30 others who were rifling the internet for something different. I’ve got a cheap gin martini, cigarette smoke everywhere. That’s the vibe. Billie Holliday and Ella Fitzgerald HAUNTED this tape. Their voices eerily present – I can feel it in my bones. But it’s not sad. Like, I’m not in my feelings. There’s a definite broken heart involved, but nobody is crying.

“Goooood Moorrrrrning…”

Ella’s sample on “Morning” is most memorable for me. The voice is great, but it’s not 100% the main reason why the sample and track stand out. More so because of how the music and how Blu splices movie dialogue over it – they juxtapose each other so well. And the fact that there is nothing BUT movie dialogue – but we will get into this one a little deeper in a little bit.

My favorite sample – well co-favorite —is Astrud Gillberto’s “Corcovado”’s sample on “Silent”. It’s 35 seconds long, no rapping, but the IDEA of what this track could become is what makes it incredible. I can imagine a 4 and a half minute SLAPPER of a track and I git GIDDY. Nothing about the 35 seconds should scream at you, BANGER, but to me, it’s a lovely and jarring coupla cuts of Gillberto’s voice, the piano is perfect, but the MVP is what I believe to be in-between breaths that Blu spliced in, very specifically. It’s flawless.

PHEW.

The other sample that shares high honors for a COMPLETELY different reason is Radiohead’s “You and Whose Army” on “Untitled(Loveu)2”. It’s mainly because – WHY THE FUCK IS BLU FLIPPING, LITERALLY FLIPPING, A RADIOHEAD TRACK. The answer is, because he fucking can. The lyrics on this one are split into 2 entirely different thoughts yet sewn together quite nicely. At first he’s LITERALLY explaining why he’s making this tape, and what you should be expecting from him (in comparison to other rappers).

“I plotted, planned it for a year or so Hoping folks hear Below And see I'm not the same as Lil Wayne They say I bond with the spiritual But hollar if you hear me though”

He also jumps in on his breakup, which is the MAIN arching theme of this tape – giving him an outlet to get what needs to off his chest. This “track” is also located towards the end of the 31mins so it could be a wrap up of everything he’s been talking about and what he wants everyone to know moving forward.

You can listen to this 30, 40, 50 times (which I did for the first 3 days) and you can solely enjoy the smooth offerings of the musical interpretations that Blu is delivering without focusing on the other things. To be honest, this tape was one of the first recordings where I actively searched for the samples used because they were so blatant, but also so alluring. It’s become quite the pastime over the last 10 years, and I HIGHLY recommend playing this game with all of your friends. I also am able to SEE the samples in these, and imagine CREATING the finished product, and get so inspired by it. If I ever dove into music production, I’d have this tape as my blueprint for what I’d want to create. I’ve never been as jealous of a recording as I was this one. Nothing too fancy, but able to alter the sound just enough to create a new atmosphere around it.

At some point, though, you need to stop and focus on the other, maybe MORE, interesting aspect of this tape (MORE!?!?!). Blu not only samples some stellar jazz tunes, but he also splices in movie clips from some fairly middle of the pack independent flicks that just you make say “Of course he did.” There was no Scarface, no Godfather clips. Pitfork said it best in their review – “Blu seems like the kind of rapper who’s really proud of his DVD collection.” I’m talking Punch Drunk Love, The Life Aquatic, and the best one in there was from Closer (best maybe isn’t the BEST word for this…).

Oh man.

I teased it earlier, but needed to time to warm up into discussing this. If you’ve never seen the movie ‘Closer” I highly recommend you do it. But not because the movie is that good (I actually don’t remember how good it was. It was probably okay. I saw it in the theatres while in High School. Maybe I was in over my head), but because this would make a lot more sense. On the track “Morning”, right after Ella welcomes us, if you didn’t know the movie, you’re immediately hit with an incredibly vulgar-for-no-reason interlude that lasts way way too long. If you did know the movie, you immediately know you’re knee deep in a vital part of Clive Owen and Julia Roberts’ relationship issues (maybe similar to Blu’s? I hope not). I was floored that a young rapper from LA decided this, THIS was the clip needed for his tape.

If you didn’t want to be happy for 2 hours, I’m sure you can find time to watch the flick, but otherwise this part of the 31min tape does hit a big plot point – and is easily the most memorable “track” for no other reason than you have to cringe the entire few minutes (yes, this goes on for minutes) the two are jawin’ at each other. Just haymakers at each other right smack dab in the middle of the tape. If it’s your first listen, it’s hard to get through, but as soon as you get used to it, you start to get the popcorn ready and await a Ali/Forman-size rumble. But, make sure you’re by yourself, because if your wife or in-laws are around, you’ll definitely regret it.

“It tastes like you, but sweeter.”

“What in the HELL are you LISTENING to?!?”

The marriage of the samples from both the music and movies really opened my eyes to what is possible out there. I mean, Blu took this project on his own, without any funding or help from others, and just put it out there for everyone to see – “hey, I know I can rap, I know that shit was dope. But look at this. I can do it all.” I was a 22 year old when this first entered my life, and I was trying to figure out how I could bring unique, fun, and meaningful content into this world. This project was something I looked up to – even to this day – and I don’t mean “I’m gonna splice up some movie quotes and samples and send it out like he did.” More like, I can try something a little weird and a little unconventional with the talents I have and see if the world takes it.

And to anyone telling me none of this is revolutionary – I get it. The ground didn’t shake, and oceans didn’t part when this was dropped. But it hit me, it was like a whack on the funny bone and I’m sure it did the same to others too. But if someone wants to splice some movie clips on eerie jazz lady vocals and lo-fi that shit up – HIT ME WITH IT, I’M OPEN. I’LL EAT THAT UP ALL DAY.

It’s been 10 years, maybe 11. And I have to admit that I haven’t been able to push myself to doing that thing that this SHOULD have inspired me to do. I don’t know what my version of “Her Favorite Colour” is but I’m not afraid to keep looking. I cheated my way into writing about this for a reason. Accountability is key. I feel like Blu held himself accountable to become more than just that dude that rapped on ‘Below the Heavens’. I’m gonna be more than some dude who wrote this.

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