#my poor laptop just packed it in like several years ago and I only RECENTLY got it fixed

[testifytime]

Finally got on my laptop properly for the first time in years and you know what? It's a lot easier to use almost All Websites like this. I wonder if I will learn anything from this experience.

[fishmongeringstudies]

the year i turned twenty i stopped waiting for someone to save my life and started eating more vegetables

in the winter of 2018 i got a root canal done on the molar in the upper left-hand corner of my mouth. it had been on the verge of death for a while now; two years prior to that a visiting government-sponsored school dentist had taken a look at it, frowned, and then spent the next two hours wheedling all the rot out of that tiny black hole with a drill. unfortunately the solution he imposed was both extremely painful and temporary, and so two years after the initial incident i found myself once again at the dentist's (this time at a clinic; school dentists don't like to deal with the extra-gritty stuff and are not paid enough to do so). they stuck a needle in my gum, numbed three-quarters of my mouth, then drilled a hole through the center of my tooth and ripped the withering shred of nerve-tissue right out of it.

my dentist helpfully explained all of the above to me during our consultation session in the same office in which he would rip the top half of my tooth off a week later. he was a balding, smiling man whose speech did not, unlike many medical professionals i had met over the years, have an edge of condescension to it. i liked him. i would have liked him more were he not planning to essentially castrated my tooth.

several weeks later i went to another dentist who specialized in helping people in post-root canal limbo, and she stuck a shiny metal crown on what was left of my molar. we then scheduled a series of check-ups to ensure that the crown had not flown off its liege while i attacked an ice cube or something similarly bad for my teeth and mental health, which stretched on for so long that she became, more or less, my primary dental care physician. at first the check-ups were a month apart. then two. time passed. her hair grew longer and our conversations less awkward; she was beautiful and snarky and looked like she would shoot god without hesitation if he stepped into range of her gun. she wore her hair short, red tinged with gold, in a pixie-cut that fell over half of one eye. for a while i thought i was in love with her.

'do you floss?' she asked me on my second check-up.

'no,' i said.

'well.' she broke off a length of dental floss and began to wind it around her fingers. it looked like a death threat and she looked ready to kill, though her eyes were smiling. 'you should.'

for the first year after having an utterly destroyed tooth brought back from the brink of death via a grisly temporary solution that would, at best, buy me one or two decades of peace, i didn't. i didn't floss because when she did it for me in her tiny examination room my gums bled so much it took hours for me to wash the bitter taste of iron out of my mouth. blood is a nice concept and a nicer motif in writing. but it smells awful, and it's worst on the tongue. so i didn't floss my teeth, and i went through life with the kind of casual detached disinterest with which i had approached most things up until then. at my next check-up she asked once again if i had been flossing and i lied that i had. after poking and prodding around in my mouth for a few minutes and taking a scan for good measure she gave me a look and said dryly, 'you haven't been flossing at all, have you.'

disappointing your parents, your favorite high school english teacher, or even your best friend is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment that comes from knowing your beautiful dentist asked you to do the bare minimum, and you failed to deliver. her voice was arid but we had known each other for long enough by then for me to detect a thin undercurrent of disappointment. i had done it. i had lost the support of the only person in my life who could be counted on to support me. because i paid her for her services. and she was also very funny in a quiet sarcastic way. and she was beautiful.

having had my ego wounded beyond description i resolved to floss from then on and succeeded in dragging my poor aching gums past the bleeding stage to a point where they were merely post-workout sore. then i lost interest and forgot about the white, sterile-smelling clinic that was a fifteen minutes' drive from my house and the little pack of dental floss on the bathroom counter faded into obscurity. two weeks before my next appointment in 2020, an alarm on my phone went off to inform me of the approaching day of judgment. i panicked.

'have you been flossing?' my dentist asked as i lay back in the faded green chair and she put on a pair of new gloves.

'yeah,' i said.

five minutes later, she removed her army of dentistry equipment from my mouth with a satisfied hum. 'i see that you have.' her eyes were smiling. 'your teeth look fine. i'll just clean them a little for you.'

i celebrated impressing my favorite dentistry professional in singapore by forgetting to floss for the next two months. soon after that i got on a plane to america, and then two more for good measure in case i hadn't grown sick of sitting and burning in my own skin already, and then twelve weeks of insanity ensued, the details of which we are surely all acquainted with by now. late nights, walks in the forest, afternoons spent in the sun. mismatched footsteps and strange acquaintances. an elaborate circus act staffed entirely by misguided but well-meaning teenagers. a ring of fire.

two weeks ago i bought a box of dental floss for ninety-nine cents. i think this might be what the anthropologists call 'adulthood'. i was at target with a friend and we were getting toothpaste, which we had both nearly run out of, when i saw the little flat box of dental floss hanging from a hook on the wall. my teeth weren't particularly disgusting (they haven't been, not since i learned how to brush them properly), but they weren't beautiful. it had been a while since i had been on my own mind. for the last three months, others' pain had been my main priority, and now that we had eliminated most of them from the picture, i found myself with more time in the mornings to stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how, exactly, i was doing.

how are you doing? i asked. and the answer was i felt like shit.

while i've stayed in dormitories before for extended periods of time i always got out of doing laundry by either submitting my dirty clothes to an on-campus service which disappeared them into a hole in the fabric of reality and returned them to you a day later, cleaned and folded outside your room so the first time i did laundry by myself in america, a week after arriving on campus, i felt invincible. buying an iced chai from the cafe on a thursday morning and then settling down to work on my laptop until my first class started at noon, i felt like a character in a career advisory ad, like someone who knew where they were going and how they were going to get there. standing in front of the bathroom mirror of my summer dorm, winding a strand of dental floss around my fingers, i felt like i had aged fifteen years in the span of just one, and that just this once, it was for the better.

according to my adult friends, no one ever fully feels or recognizes that they are an adult. adulthood is an ideal that all grown children strive towards the way body-builders aim for more and more muscle mass until there's nothing left of them but a pair of well-toned biceps. there are several industry-approved ways to be an adult, but there are no suggested ways to feel like one. this is part of the gaping maw of inadequacy our generation has fallen into. this afternoon i melted butter in a pan and beat two eggs, milk, salt, and garlic powder together in a bowl. pouring the egg mixture into the pan i began to scrape the edges frantically towards the center with a spatula. the whole process took no longer than two or three minutes. by the end of it my hand was shaking.

according to my adult friends you just wake up one day and start looking for ways to re-organize your pantry and that's when you realize: i'm getting old, aren't i? and i'm getting old, aren't i? twenty's just the start of what a friend recently told me her parents refer to as 'the decade of pain'. but the beginning of something is included in the timeline of its accomplishments, too, and it takes more blind faith to start something than we give ourselves credit for. i have never used a saucepan up until today. in my younger years i often boiled broccoli or cauliflower in a small pot over an electric stove. but the butter, the eggs, the smell of fat sizzling on a pan- this is new to me. this entire life is new to me.

leaving the familiar warmth of your family home, it suddenly occurs to you how fragile life is. how everything your mother has done for you until now has kept you on the path forward, and now you have been given the keys to the basement you have to remember to buy laundry detergent before you run out. it all comes together like this: the humming laundry machines, the hand towels, the fridge full of fruit and cheese. it keeps you alive.

and it's awful. our generation doesn't know what self-care is because we're too busy trying to care for a world which tries, time and again, to kick us off the carousel of life and move on without its ephemeral teenage charges. we are bad at this 'living' thing because we often forget that we are alive at all. look out the window and the world's burning. look into the kitchen, and- quiet. this past year has done nothing to improve the paintings on the wall. we've all known hopelessness. we've all known what it's like to wake up and feel nothing at all.

and yet my flatmate has a new york times cooking subscription that she says we're welcome to borrow if we want to look up a recipe for something like paella, brownies, whatever. the other day she made shrimp scampi and when she knocked on my door and said 'i made food, if you'd like some' i remember thinking living with other people was worth it if you could sit around a table and twirl pasta noodles around your fork in silence. tomorrow i think i'll go to target again and see if i can find more acai. i miss it. i miss singapore's overpriced acai places and their stupid too-high chairs.

and i am living life clumsily, but who cares? a life is a life; all you have to do is live it. the rest can come later, after the dust has settled on the windowsill.

06.09.21

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Before I Met You | Twenty

Next Update: ~December 29, 2020

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Author’s Note: Hello! Sorry I’m a few days late -- was doing some finishing touches. Also, instead of having a regular update schedule, I think I’ll be sticking with letting you know when you can expect the next update!

Before I Met You Masterlist

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“Where are you going?” Jia asks as soon as she sees me putting on my boots.

I glance up at her as I zip up my right boot. “Grocery store.”

“Oh… by yourself?”

I’m not sure why Jia suddenly decided to ask today who I’m going to the grocery store with. Perhaps because I went last Saturday morning, never go in consecutive weeks, and certainly never go at two o’clock in the afternoon. Or she senses that I’m sneaking around her and avoiding questions like I was with Jaemin.

“No, Johnny asked me to go with him.”

“Johnny?!” she exclaims. “Why does Johnny want to go to the grocery store with you?! He seems to want to hang out with you a lot, huh?”

“I don’t know. I mean, we just played card games and talked yesterday.”

Jia’s eyes widen. “What if he likes you?!”

I shrug.

That is a good question though. What if he does like me? Then what am I supposed to do? I would go out with him, but—

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” she asks. “I saw a girl here like a month ago with him. I didn’t recognize her.”

“I don’t know. He’s never mentioned any—

Shit. No. That’s what Jaemin did. Please do not let this be a repeat of Jaemin. I don’t have time for that kind of shit again.

Jia quirks her eyebrow, wondering why I suddenly stopped midsentence. “Any… what? What are you thinking?”

“Uh, he’s never mentioned anything about it. Have you ever seen her around here after that?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

I press my lips together. “Maybe they broke up.”

“What if he does like you?!” she asks excitedly. “Would you go out with him?” I blink a few times and shrug. “I guess so.”

“So you’re from Medford? That’s cool. My family drove through there once on our way to Portland. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I like it there. You grew up in San Jose, right?”

Johnny and I walk up the hill towards a local grocery store a few blocks north from where we live. My face feels cold from the end of fall chill, but I feel strangely happy. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I sort of have a crush on Johnny because I think he’s cute and we’re hanging out.

I’ve been asking him questions. Trying to figure out what he’s like. Trying to figure out whether he has a girlfriend... I know I could just be direct about it and ask, but it seems kind of random to suddenly say, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” when I barely know him.

We obviously know that we can’t just default to, “Oh, if he has a girlfriend, he wouldn’t be trying to hit on someone else” and immediately assume he has morals because apparently that’s not always true.

But aside from that issue, Johnny is nice and in the “getting to know you” stage, he’s decently interesting.

“Yeah. My parents and my sister moved to California a few months after I was born. So I lived with my grandparents in Korea until my parents came back to pick me up after settling down to bring me here,” he says.  

“Do you speak Korean?”

“Yeah, but it’s not very good. I can get around though.”

“I’ve been trying to learn Korean,” I say. “I can read the alphabet and say a few phrases!”

“Oh really? I could help you out sometime.”

Johnny is a year younger than me and he has a sister that’s a year older than me that goes to school in San Francisco. His dad is often traveling for work, so Johnny doesn’t see him as often when he goes home to visit his mom every few weeks. Since she’s home by herself often, she spends a lot of her time volunteering at her church, though sometimes she’ll buy a plane ticket and meet Johnny’s dad wherever he traveled for work.

It seems… lonely.

We arrive at the grocery store and I follow him around, watching him pick out his groceries and making casual small talk about our classes, our interests, and what food to buy.

I can’t help but feel flirtatious. And that’s a weird feeling to me because I never feel flirtatious. Friendly and shy, sure. But flirtatious has only ever really occurred once and I’ll never forget that feeling. I clearly like Johnny, but I’m not trying to give it away. But he asked me to go grocery shopping so that has to count for something.

“Do you want some tea?” Johnny asks, pointing to a colorful display of canned teas.

I blink several times. “Uh, sure? I can Venmo you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Which one do you want?”

I spot my favorite flavor near the top and without saying a word, walk over to the display and get on my tippy toes in an attempt to reach the peach tea. My fingers are just a few inches shy of reaching it. Johnny chuckles and I keep my back to him to hide my frown. He walks up behind me and easily reaches over my hand to grab the can and place it in his cart.

“You could’ve just told me which one you wanted. That’s the benefit of being short with tall friends,” he teases.

“Hey! I’m not short!”

“You’re shorter than me.”

“Everyone is shorter than you!” I retort.

He chuckles again. “Yeah, that’s true. Is there anything you need? I’m done.”

I shake my head and turn to head towards the checkout line. An Oreo display case catches my eye and my expression morphs into one of disgust.

“Cherry cola Oreos?” I say in disbelief. “That sounds gross.”

“Hey, they’re probably good,” he responds, pulling out his phone.

I shrug. “I guess they had to pass the taste test before production.”

He doesn’t respond, engrossed in whatever is on his phone. My curiosity gets to the best of me and I begin peering over. He’s looking at an ad for Muji and in the top left corner are the Facebook chat bubbles. Mine is the only one on the screen and he doesn’t appear to have any other notifications. I don’t know what this would tell me. I figure if he had a girlfriend, she would message him while he was on his excursion. Actually, wouldn’t he ask her to accompany him? Unless…?

“Hey,” I greet, placing a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruit on the table. “How’s the studying going?”

Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s all right. A lot of terms to remember. Strategic risk, credit risk, call-options, price insurance… hard to keep them straight sometimes.”

“Do you have any flash cards? I can help test you if you want.”

He shakes his head. “That’s okay. Maybe a little later. I’m doing some practice questions now.” He looks at the plate, grabs an apple slice, and takes a bite. “Thanks.”

“You’ve taken and passed a couple exams already. I know you’ll do great on this one,” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from him.  

“Yeah, but I had to take one of those exams multiple times.”

“So? You still passed. That’s all that matters. And now you’re on your way to becoming a certified financial planner! You’re doing great!”

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “I’d really like to pass this one the first time…”

“I’m sure with all the studying you’re doing, you’ll be fine. You still have a few weeks to get it down.”

“Yeah, but I have to work too…”

I chuckle lightly. “I don’t know how you do it. But you amaze me every day. Work, study, and pass these exams.”

“Honestly, I don’t really know either.” Jaehyun leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “We should take a vacation after this.”  

I clap my hands together. “Let’s go somewhere warm after I finish finals! Last vacation during law school because next semester it’s finals and then the bar exam.” I press my lips together and frown. “Tests. Always another test!”

“Are you coming in here to study?”

“Hm? Oh, I need to make a call to Siwon first. Why? Do you need something?”

Jaehyun smiles and shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh, okay,” I say as I get up from my seat. “Then I’ll—

“I just like it when you’re with me.”

I started spending more time downstairs with Chaeyoung and Shotaro. We’d sit in a comfortable silence to study and then chat over dinner. Occasionally Johnny would come down to join us. Though recently, he had been cooped up in his room trying to finish the last CS projects of the semester with Hendery. So we didn’t see each other as much, but he did message me frequently to see how I was doing and ate dinner downstairs with the rest of us.

Within a matter of weeks, classes ended and dead week was upon us. Now it was a week of intense cramming and poor diet followed by finals and then a few weeks to relax before doing it all over again. It’s like a hamster wheel… constantly running, only to find out you receive a piece of paper for your endeavors.

After finishing lunch in the dining room, I pack up my laptop and notebooks to set out for a psych review session and a few hours of library study for genetics. Johnny walks in and sits down at the neighboring table, thoughtfully watching me as I place my belongings into my bag.

“Where you going?” he finally asks.

“I have a review session for my psych class at two and then I’m going to study in the library until five or so.”

“Oh, where is it?

“In the life sciences building.”

“Oh.” He shifts around in his chair a bit and begins biting the inside of his lip. “Are you staying in the life science building after that?”

“Yeah, that’s the library I like.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe I should check it out.”

“It’s nice. It’s smaller and they usually have space.”

I glance at him, expecting him to ask to join me in the library, but when he doesn’t, I mentally shrug and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

“See you later,” I say, heading towards the door.

“Bye.”

At the review session, I scan the room and sit down next to an old dorm floormate. She doesn’t notice when I sit down, furiously texting someone with a furrowed brow.

“Ugh!” she groans.

“Everything okay?” I ask out of obligation.

“My boyfriend is being stupid.” She puts her phone back in her pocket. “I kinda think he’s cheating on me.”  

I bite my lip and nod in acknowledgement. “Boys suck.”

“Tell me about it.”

I pull out my own phone to avoid any further divulgence and see a message notification.

Johnny: you said youre gonna study at the library after your review session right?

Heh. It sounds like someone’s too afraid to ask in person.

Me: Yeah

J: when does it end? can I join you? I wanna go study at the library but I don’t wanna get lost lol

My forehead creases in confusion upon reading Johnny’s reasoning. Get lost? How would you get lost?

Me: It’s over at 3 and yeah

Me: Just meet me in front of the library at 3

I’m holding back a smile. I wanted to go to the library with Johnny, but I also didn’t want to be the one to ask. To some extent, this was a test for him. To test his attraction? I like being chased just as much as the next person and if the opportunity presents itself to spend time with Johnny, then all the better.

J: ok! See u then! 

An hour later, I exit the lecture hall and start walking to the other side of the building towards the library. Johnny’s tall figure is leaning against the railing in front of the entrance. He’s wearing a gray baseball cap and holding a textbook against his left thigh while using his other hand to scroll through something on his phone. I walk up to him and looks up from his phone.

“Hey!” he greets. “How was the review session?”

I shrug. “It was all right.” I gesture my head towards the library. “Ready to go in?”

He nods and I start walking into the library with him following slightly behind.

“Whoa,” he whispers, lightly grabbing onto the dangling strap of my backpack. “I’d definitely get lost in here. Make sure I don’t get lost.”

I turn my head slightly to look at him over my shoulder. Gawking at him, he smiles widely back at me. I blink at him a few times and turn back around, continuing on towards the tables in the back and pretending like I’m not leading a child with one of those backpack leashes.

Okay… maybe he’s just really, really weird.

God, this looks so stupid.

I stop in front of an empty table with two high chairs. Johnny lets go of the strap when he sees me move to take off my backpack and then follows suit. I place my belongings on the table and immediately immerse myself in reviewing for my genetics exam. I occasionally take glances over at Johnny who is diligently reading the textbook he was holding and taking notes. Normally, I’d pay a little more attention, but that’s not really my priority right now. However, I won’t deny that there’s this annoying voice in my head that’s asking, “What in the world is Johnny doing? He must like you, right? But what if he has a girlfriend that you don’t know about? Those pictures of him with that girl are still on his Instagram page, but some people leave all of those photos up even after they break up. I don’t have a gauge on what he’s like and whether he’d do that.”

Later that evening, while trying to finish a bioethics paper in bed, I receive a message from Johnny.

J: what are you doing?

Me: I’m trying to write this damn paper and it’s pissing me off

J: you want some cookies?

J: maybe it’ll help you write your paper

Me: Mm okay. I’ll be downstairs in a few

“Are you going downstairs?” Jia asks as I begin shuffling around and grabbing my backpack and a small blanket.

“Yeah.”

“Did you go to the library with Johnny earlier?”

I freeze in place and slowly turn around. How did she know about that?

“I saw you guys walking back together when I was coming back from my review session,” she continues, answering my question without her knowledge. 

“Oh, yeah. He asked to meet me there.”

“Oooh!” She cracks into a wide, shit-eating grin. “He likes you! Are you meeting him downstairs too?!”

“Yeah, he said he had cookies. I want some.”

“Oh my gosh… do you like him?!”

I feel the heat rise up into my cheeks. “I mean, I think he’s cute and he’s fun to hang around with, but I don’t think I like him like that.”

“Oh yeah… if he has a girlfriend, you probably shouldn’t.” She ponders for a few seconds and her eyes shoot open. “Do you think his girlfriend knows he’s hanging out with you?!”

I mentally scoff. If Johnny is actually interested in me like that, I bet he’s conveniently left it out of any conversations with his girlfriend that he’s hanging around another girl and grabbing onto her backpack strap so that he doesn’t get “lost” in the library.

“My guess is probably not.”

I quickly leave and consider the conversation I had had with my dad earlier. I called to tell him about Johnny asking to meet at the library, grabbing onto my backpack, his various offers of cookies and what not. Basically, dad thinks that Johnny probably likes me. His opinion on the girlfriend thing? He’s not sure since we don’t know whether or not Johnny actually has one. It’s strange that she showed up once and then never again and that he’s never mentioned her. This is starting to sound eerily familiar. It’s a problem for later. I need to focus on finals for now.

There is one thing that I hadn’t realized until now though.

Jaemin hasn’t come to mind as frequently.

Perhaps I was finally getting over him.

“What’s the paper for?” Johnny asks as I set my things down at the table on his left.

“It’s for some bioethics class. I’m doing research on pesticides and lymphoma. Not exactly a happy topic.”

He pushes the cookies over to me, gesturing with his left hand for me to take some. My brow raises in curiosity when a piece of jewelry on his wrist catches my eye. It’s a thin, black band with a circular charm hanging off it. It looks like there’s something engraved on it, but I can’t tell because the backside is facing up.

“What’s the bracelet for?”

“Hm?” Johnny raises his left arm and runs his hand through his hair. “Which one?”

I raise my brow at him. “The only black one around your wrist…”

“Oh.” He lowers his hand and looks at his wrist. “Um, it’s a bracelet from my girlfriend.”

I deadpan for a few seconds before quickly remarking, “Oh. Nice!” and following with forced smile.

I turn back to my laptop, trying to pretend to read through my essay. Though, if my facial expression clearly conveys annoyance, I wouldn’t be surprised.

See! This is exactly what I meant about not being able to assume anyone has morals. Interested in Johnny, Y/N? Not anymore. Never mind.

Oh well. It’s not like I got that far with this anyway.

There’s a quick motion coming from my right and suddenly the room becomes dimmer as a baseball cap is placed on my head. I slowly turn to look at Johnny, still slightly miffed at the revelation from seconds earlier. He smiles warmly at me.

“Do you want to go to the library tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why did you do that?” I ask without answering his question.

“What?” He shrugs. “So do you want to go? We should wake up really early in the morning to go so that we can get a head start on studying!”

I nod my head. “Okay.”

What are you doing? There should be some blaring siren going off in your head, but there isn’t. Oh, that’s right. It’s because you’re still attracted to him.

I grab the hat on my head and place it back on his.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s too big for me.”

“It’s a thinking cap. It’ll help you with your essay.”

“If only it were that easy.”

Johnny chuckles and then opens Facebook on his laptop. He has two messages: one from Hendery and another from someone with the nickname “Boo boo.” It’s times like these where I’m glad I have good control over my facial expressions and can easily type out an essay while reading over someone’s shoulder.

Boo boo’s profile picture is clearly of a girl and when Johnny opens her chat box, I see that boo boo sent a bunch of heart stickers. He follows by responding with a few hearts and a “hiii boo boo!! i love youuuuuu soooo much!!!” It goes back and forth like that a few more times.

I have to try not to gag. Is this what people are like with their boyfriends and girlfriends? Am I going to be like that? Oh gross.

Maybe I just don’t understand what love is. Who am I to question their love? However, if Johnny is “soooo in looooove” with his girlfriend, why is he acting like this with me?

If this is a repeat of Jaemin, I’m walking right into a trap. 

The rest of dead week played out the same way. Wake up in the morning, go to the library with Johnny, watch Johnny send “I looovvee youuu” messages to boo boo, study in the evening with Johnny, grab a study snack with Johnny, spend time with Chaeyoung and Hendery while with Johnny.

My whole study life started revolving around Johnny. And really, it was simply having someone to spend time with. Johnny and I could sit in a comfortable silence and study for our own classes, occasionally taking breaks to eat or show each other videos. It was a good arrangement and I liked my new friend.

But the sad truth was, I liked my new friend a little too much and I had a feeling that nothing good was going to come of it.

Johnny had a girlfriend and he knew that I knew he had a girlfriend. I’ve never been interested in home wrecking and I certainly wasn’t saying anything or doing anything other than spending time with him, to indicate that I had a crush on him. But here we are a year later with the same problem: is it morally wrong for me to be spending time with this guy when I have a crush on him while fairly certain that his behavior was indicative that he liked me? Isn’t he technically emotionally cheating on his girlfriend?

I think the way I tried to justify this was by telling myself that I wasn’t the one initiating the hang outs or study sessions. Johnny would ask and I had the option of agreeing or declining. And sincerely, since I was just trying to study, I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

On the last day of finals, I joined Johnny, Chaeyoung, Jia, Shotaro, Hendery, Sungchan, and a few others in the dining room, celebrating over a box of donuts and cups of hot chocolate. We were exchanging social media accounts to keep up with each other over the break.

“Hey,” Johnny greets as he grabs the empty seat next to me. “Are you going home tomorrow?”

I shake my head. “No, the day after.”

“Do you wanna grab lunch together tomorrow? Hendery is leaving and I’m also not leaving until Sunday.”

“Oh, sure! That would be fun!”

“Cool!”

He throws his baseball cap on top of my head and suddenly the room is quiet. I can tell that everyone is looking at me. I keep my gaze down on the table and take a few seconds to respond with a laugh.

“I don’t want your hat!” I exclaim playfully, pulling it off and trying to put it back on him.

He lightly shoves my arm away. “It looks better on you.”

I ignore him and put the hat down on the table and move to grab another donut from the box, silently praying everyone will stop watching and pretend like nothing happened.

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

[cassidydanvers]

Coffee and Contemplation || Solo

She never really knew how to deal with anniversaries. Not like birthdays or weddings; not the fun stuff. The harder stuff. There were two of them now. April first marked one full year since she got here. Since the merge from Ashford to Ashkent. How exactly were you supposed to mark something like that? Involuntary relocation, whatever you were supposed to call it. Ignoring it was an option, but that felt weirder somehow. Hey, maybe this kind of thing called for a stack of pancakes, a cake, maybe bring out the sparklers. Make a day of it. Interdimensional travel should really come with a how-to manual she mused wryly with a sip of her coffee.

Out of those options she was camped out at Flopped like she started out with her back to the last booth at the back with full view of the room. Just a regular day. Or as close as she could get to it researching ghosts. After the mess at the hospital it became all the more apparent that she really needed to get her act together before some other catastrophe got there first.  There was also the small matter of That was a whole other issue she’d have to deal with a little later, but with that in mind she pulled out her notes from the books back at Scribe Headquarters and got to work with her highlighter and a small notepad to list down anything she was going to need on a practical level apart from salt and scribbled down a quick list with a sheet from her notepad:

Basil

Sage

Angelica

Lasagna That vegetable pasta stuff - switch out sauce for pesto?

Garlic

Bay Leaves

Chalk/Chalk pen

Salt

Something Iron Something borrowed something blue

Graveyard dirt find alternative.

Looking at those last ones again this was stacking up to being the weirdest grocery list in a while.

Cassie pushed the plate to one side and pulled out and opened her laptop and took out a solitary post it note with some hurriedly scrawled writing from inside her bag:

Mydiumspace

?????

Helpful, Cass, real helpful. She unstuck it from the back of the piece of paper it was attached to and smoothed the strip across the top left hand side of her laptop and typed the name into the searchbar, looking for something that wasn’t a link to some computer game or obscure tv show when she found it on the second page of results. Hoping for something along the lines of ‘Welcome to intro to ghosts 101: tools tech and tutorials’, or something along those lines she filled out her details, creating a throwaway email account and logged on. A welcome message flashed up on screen and she clicked on the first most recent post to see what she was dealing with exactly.

 New User has joined the forum – Welcome New User: Cassper

General Chat> Encounters>Positive Encounters>”Stories welcome”

Ramblinman: I just got back from taking a case out by the subdivision. I just saw a former tenant  stop a client’s child from taking a fall down some stairs. Moving the guy on didn’t feel right so I just left it. At least for now. I told the owners he wouldn’t be bothering them and left it at that. Has anyone else had anything similar happen?

DarkandStormyNight: For me there for every hostile one I’ve had there have been three to tip the scale back. Some of them do just want to be heard. To be helped.

Allcatsaregrey: It’s the other way around here. There’s been maybe one or two that haven’t lashed out. As soon as they get wind of me for most of them I get hit with projectiles and freezeouts.

Icydeadpeople: Yeah and I bet if you are extra nice to them they don’t go ape shit when whoever they’re after snuffed it twenty years ago or Great Aunt Sally moved to Argentina. They tend to get friendly with the kitchen utensils around then. Don’t let them fool you.

NELSONAR345TY:If I have to I just call in one of the cleaners. They are my go-to to get rid of anybody violent, but those people give me the creeps. Stone cold some of them. I saw one of them waste some poor SOB. Brutal stuff.

DarkandStormyNight: The closest I get to anything like that is the occasional  banishment. Only as a last resort.

Banishment? She was already in over her head. At that moment it felt something akin to those nightmares she had once or twice about being given a test she didn’t study for a class she didn’t even know you were even taking. Some kind of improv class or interpretive dance usually, when her mind really wanted to torture her. Cassie bookmarked the page for later including a few posts about book recommendations and came out of that page and moved onto her next project. She had a name and a location, should be enough for something useful to come up. Sure enough a quick search on google returned a few newspaper articles. Cassie opened up the first link.

Black Ice causes Fatal Bridge Accident

A fatal road accident on the Landon Road bridge yesterday claimed the lives of two local residents. It is understood that the pair were returning from Ashkent General Hospital in the early hours of Sunday morning of March 29th when they hit a patch of black ice on the road leading the car they were travelling in to verge from the road onto another oncoming vehicle.  Scott Landon, thirty two, had been driving the vehicle when it lost control was pronounced dead at the scene. His sister, Maya Landon, thirty five was treated at the hospital but later died of her injuries.  The family declined interview but made a statement wishing for privacy but thanking everyone involved in their aid.

Moving away from the page to a quick cursory glance over a Facebook account she came up with a profile that matched Maya’s brother on the search engine. A hesitant click took her to a photo pinned to his page of him crouching beside a pleased looking golden retriever, a carefree smile across his face. He had that look of someone who was the heartthrob next door in just about every teen drama growing up. Sandy Blond hair, Henley and a plaid shirt. Just a regular guy. It suddenly didn’t feel right snooping. Exiting out of the site she sat back in her seat and watched for a moment as a small group of people passed by to take one of the booths a little further forward from her. Now at least she knew who to look out for. Narrowed it down a little.  Another coffee refill later she packed up her stuff, started up the car and made her way back across the river to Callahan Cathedral, or what was left of it, as promised.

The cathedral was perhaps not the smartest location to have picked for a meetup, especially not a long abandoned one. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, but considering the events that even led her to being there in the first place she’d have said she did okay all things considered. Hard to be rational when you were being chased down by a half dozen or so pissed off ghosts. Which on the subject were also a topic of conversation for some sort of churchyard tour going on a few yards away from where she waited.

“…and here is where Obadiah Smith has been reported as being sighted right next to this marker,” the speaker stopped by a toppled grave marker, his hands clasped in an attempt to look solem.“Several psychics we’ve had out here tell us that the disrepair of the graves and the surrounding grounds have made these formerly peaceful souls angry. We set up a donation page and ten percent of our book sales and a small percent of our ticket fees go towards our funs to restore the site and we appreciate every penny you can give, now if you’d like to follow me to…”

Cassie watched them go and turned her attention ahead again and closed her jacket over as the wind cut through her clothing and stuffed her hands into her pockets as she waited.

I wasn’t long before she felt what was quickly becoming a familiar sensation of pins and needles down her back. She followed the feeling and looked over towards the grass, expecting to see Maya, the former- was that the right term?-nurse. Instead there was a trio of ghosts headed her way. Any worry about being approached by any of them were thankfully snuffed out. Seemed they were more interested in trailing what she realized then had to be some kind of ghost tour party going on and watched as a small group followed along slightly behind them.

“This guy’s full of crap,” one of them huffed as they passed nearby. “Most of these you can’t even read the names. You could feed them any old shit, what a load of bull,” he kicked out at one of the markers and passed through it, trailing after the others leaving Cassie alone with her thoughts again.

After checking her watch a few times and wondering why she hadn’t picked somewhere less cold and creepy, like Del’s or one of the fancier places. Somewhere, anywhere warm when her guest finally appeared. As she approached Cassie had been close for a moment to asking how she wasn’t in the least bit cold in just her scrubs like that before she realised her mistake with an inward roll of her eyes. “Hey,” she called over tentatively, taking careful steps past what was left of several grave markers dotted along the grass turf.

As she approached Maya tucked her hands into the pockets of her blue nursing scrubs, shoulders turning inwards, almost hesitant behind the nonchalant expression on her face, “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“Says the person who’s late,” Cassie countered with a not unfriendly shake of her head. “Right,” back to why she was even here, “so, I did a little digging. Got a picture and um, some background,” she looked away, “with, you know, what happened…I’m sorry.” She tumble that last part out, “but, um, remind me again, why can’t you just tell him yourself again?”

“Any time I get near he’s out of there,” she moved to stand beside Cassie, ankles crossed and leaning against the cathedral wall. She let out a sigh, looking out towards the rest of the grounds. “I can’t get within a mile of him,” she turned to look at Cassie, meeting her eyes, “I just want to see him, set the record straight.”

“And you think he’s going to listen to me, to some random over you?” That seemed likely.

“It’s better than nothing,” Maya’s gaze focused on the ground and into her own thoughts.

There was a lull in the conversation after that. Cassie shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat, “okay, not promising anything, but I can try.” For the moment at least that seemed to be something.

“About the other thing,” Maya folded her arms, “I want them, the rest of them gone. That stunt back at the General-“ she bit at one of her nails, letting out a huff, “I’m done. Anything?”

“Oh,” she was hoping the first thing would be enough, that maybe Maya would have forgotten she’d even asked about it. No such luck. “Right. About the other thing, Working on it,” not a total lie, “but that’s going to take a lot more work. I wouldn’t even know where to start with that stuff. Might take some time, not sure how much I can get hold of, but I’ll…I can try. Time for a change of subject, “oh,” she pointed her finger, “before I forget, for future reference if I ever need a distraction do me a solid and give me a heads up on the game plan first,” she looked over towards Maya, one eyebrow raised and what she at least hoped passed as slight a teasing smile considering the cold.

“Noted.” Maya gave a slow tilt of her head, “and thank you,” she added after a beat.

“Okay, ‘s fine,” she shrugged it off. She hadn’t done anything yet.

Tracking Maya’s brother down was the least of her worries. Keeping ghosts out might be one thing, but getting rid of them was a whole other thing and a route Cassie wasn’t even sure she wanted to go down. Unless she didn’t have to, maybe she could find somebody who could. One thing at a time.

[cajunquandary]

THE EYES ARE WINDOWS (Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge)

Pairing/Characters: Eventual Dean x Reader, Sam, mentions of Benny

Word Count: 5400

Warnings: Alcohol use, flashbacks to implied rape and torture, mentions of PTSD, canon level violence, light cursing, mention of Alzheimer’s.

Prompt: “I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left.”

Summary: Dean Winchester begins to investigate a strange case in a small town in Louisiana, meeting a local hunter. Expecting a simple salt-and-burn or demon, the actual culprit was not what the local hunter could have prepared for.

A/N: This is for Michelle’s 2K Follower Challenge, @luci-in-trenchcoats. If any of the above triggers affect you, PLEASE, please don’t read this. It’s not too angst-y and ends with lots o’ fluffy goodness.

(Not my gif)

Louis and Christine’s was especially packed, even for a Thursday night in the college town. You shouldn’t have been surprised—fraternity guys and coeds loved $2 shots as much as any hunter. You quickly secured one of the two high-top tables left for yourself and your research. Halfway through your double whiskey on the rocks, you hardly noticed the din from chanting students or the scruffy looking man who had slid into the opposite seat. Last week, Alexandria had a mysterious string of deaths that you were sure was the aftermath of voodoo performed by an angry civilian. Pretty run of the mill for Louisiana, and nothing you hadn’t come across before. In fact, I’d be damned if it wasn’t little old Miss Maxine Martin causing trouble for the nursing home again. Alzheimer’s is difficult for anyone, but when those who spent their lives dabbling in voodoo develop it…

“So are you going to sit there and ignore me all night? What’s a pretty little girl like you doing reading that crap anyway?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as the gravelly voice caught your attention, shutting the laptop and stowing the newspapers with it.

“That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink?” You leaned back in your chair, finished the whiskey, and folded your arms. He motioned for another round, then leaned back mirroring your body language.

“You still didn’t answer my question. What’s a girl like you doing reading about voodoo in a place like this?” His lips remained turned up in a smug, flirty fashion, green eyes glinting in the dull light of the bar. Freckles faintly littered his nose and cheeks. You wondered how many were…wait, what was his question? “I see we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Dean. Winchester.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You leaned forward, thanking the waitress for your fresh drink. After a moment, you recalled why the name sounded so familiar—Dean Winchester, a legend among hunters—and smiled. Having only met a few other hunters in your brief time in the life and being a sucker for their stories, to hear some from a legend was an opportunity that left you giddy.

Several hours and many drinks later, you and Dean had become familiar with the scariest, funniest, and most bizarre hunts you’d been on, and briefly discussed your families.

“So, Y/N, what made you start hunting?” You always hated that question. It was a long and painful story, best left untold to other hunters. There was a reason you hunted alone. Well, not completely alone.

“Hey Y/N, I see ya found a nice beau, but we closed an hour ago, cher. Do you need me to walk ya home?” Everette, the bartender and a friend of yours, gratefully interrupted, while giving Dean the classic ‘stink eye.’

“No, thank you, Ev’, we were just leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” you smiled and slid not-so-gracefully from your seat. After a quick hug and polite nod toward Dean, he walked away to finish closing up.

“Mind if I walk you home?” Dean asked, taking your arm in his.

“Not at all.”

The walk was not too far to your simple little apartment, and you discovered along the way that Dean was in town for a string of recent suicides that had been kept from the news. Apparently they were all young men in their twenties and thirties. Some had grown up here, like you, and others were just passing through, but all walked themselves miles to the outskirts of town to an old farm house that had been abandoned twenty some odd years ago. He had already spoken to the former owners who said nothing weird ever happened while they were there, and only left because they couldn’t afford the mortgage anymore. Since then, the home and land had been in the bank’s possession and had never been resold. “What’s been weird is that none of the locals want to talk about the house. There’s more to this, but I can’t find it.”

“Where exactly is this house, Dean,” afraid you already knew the answer. You wiggled your apartment’s key into the lock until the door was freed. Normally this took a few minutes of wrestling and bargaining with the door, but you were thankful that this time it gave easily. Your spine was crawling and every hair on your body was standing on end in anticipation of his answer.

“Cute place.” Dean looked around and found the bathroom, unaware of your shaking hands closing and double locking the door. “Mind if I..?” he pointed towards the bathroom. You nodded, and he slipped away. Not but a moment later, Dean burst out of the bathroom and tripped on the mat. “Did you—uh—do you know you have a pluming problem? The sink just shot water out of the side at me while—um—never mind. Not important.” Dean’s eyes cast downward, his face flushed and sporting a sheepish grin.

Laughing and allowing some of the tension to leave your shoulders, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and pick up the silver pocket knife you’d accidentally left behind, placing it protectively in your pocket. Dean laughed as well, and flopped into your armchair.

Picking up where he left off, Dean replied, “The house is on Magnolia Way, right off of the highway, close to campus.”

Silence flooded the room, like molasses suspending everything in place. Dean tried to read your face, but you didn’t notice, staring out the window and into another life, a painful memory. The icemaker in the fridge released all of its contents onto the kitchen floor before you could get pulled too far away and you jumped up to clean it, Dean helping to gather the stray cubes. You pushed the memory away and focused on the mess at hand.

“The last one!” Dean said excitedly as he pulled a half melted cube from beneath the counter, popping to his feet quickly. Too quickly he realized, hitting his head on the corner of an open cupboard.

Knowing very well that neither of you opened it, you closed it quickly and turned him around. Grinning, you offered, “Want some ice for that?” He wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled, both consumed in a fit of laughs.  Oh, how his arms, his scent, his laugh, and the way the corners of his eyes scrunched were intoxicating.

“There’s something you should know,” you pulled away from Dean, grabbing the dishtowel to fidget with. “About me, about this apartment.” He raised his brows in question. “I don’t usually bring strange men home from bars—“ Dean looked mildly offended at being lumped in with such a crowd, but then nodded in understanding and leaned forward, kissing your forehead.

“I get it,” he cut you off. “You need your space, and I need my beauty rest. Meet me at the diner at 6am. You’re buying!” And just like that he had sauntered out your door, leaving the small space feeling empty.

You shrugged, and prepared to shower and sleep. “You can come out now, Armand.” The ghost of the young man appeared next to you, looking rather agitated. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I tried to tell him—“

“He a hunter! You cain’t let’im know I here! He send me to tha gret beyond. Then who watch you back, boo?”

“Well, I wasn’t the one causing a scene. Rest up, I’m gonna need you tomorrow. We caught a case here in town, and I need to wrap it up quick to go take care of the case in Alexandria. I think Miss Maxine is at it again, bless her poor little old heart.”

Armand disappeared again with a disgruntled “Hmph.”

You don’t know what had gotten into you that night. Maybe it was the stress from finals, or the pointed comment from your only girlfriend about you being a recluse, or maybe it was the lukewarm, charged air of the stormy season that made you restless. Whatever it was that had led you here, to the frat party, wearing a sweater and blue jeans (leaving everything to the imagination, unlike some of your fellow party goers,) and standing in a corner of the pulsating room clutching your glass of mystery punch, it was a mistake. Amy invited you, of course, but she had already run off somewhere, maybe doing karaoke, maybe beer pong. Who knew? A strapping freshman new recruit to the fraternity (dignified by his wearing nothing but a trash bag) grinned down at you. He seemed nice enough after chatting for a bit. He was studying microbiology with a minor in business, and wanted to save the world. As a junior with only a few credit away from graduation, you knew that he would no doubt change his studies and views several times before the end. His excitement, however, was infectious, and you followed him to the patio, reminding yourself that you were supposed to be relaxing and having fun. The kid was scrawny, you could take him and a buddy in a fight and win. Thanks for the training, Dad. There was something off about him though, and the other members. Maybe it was their eyes. Most of them had very pretty eyes, ranging from bright blue to amber, but something was off about their eyes. Yeah... That’s it. Their eyes don’t catch the light. No reflections. Hm. Must be the bad lighting.

The kid started to ramble about the stars, and a few partygoers ran past, playing drunk tag. You looked up and marveled the same, then the stars faded and darkness took over.

You fell out of bed, a mess of sheets and pillows on the floor, sweating and shaking. You grasped for the alarm clock behind you. 4:56am. Too late to go back to sleep now, if you even could. You sighed. After turning on the shower to warm up, you turned to gather your clothes for the day—a dark grey flannel and black BDU pants you saved for particularly difficult jobs. One quick rinse and two cups of coffee later, you twisted your hair into a bun, not caring how it looked, grabbed your bag and walked out the door. Halfway down the hall you heard a loud crash. “Crap. Sorry Armand!” You scrambled back through the door and put the pocket knife in your pocket, glad that the crash was only a few pans spilling out of the cabinet to the floor. Sometimes when Armand got really mad he would end up breaking things.

“Woah. Mornin’ sunshine. Just roll out of bed?” Dean had a mouthful of pie. Apple, by the looks of it. His eyes lingered for a moment at your head, surely debating whether or not to mention the mess.

“Yeah,” You have no idea, you thought. “Isn’t it a bit early for pie?”

Dean looked completely offended at this. “Are you kidding?” He said between chewing the mouthful.

You shook your head. The waitress set down pigs’n’blankets, eggs, bacon, and pancakes, followed by another with coffee for you and two orange juices. “Uh, Dean? Did you order all this?”

“Yup. Hm. I’m used to ordering enough for me and Sammy.” He dug into the eggs.

“Where is Sam?”

“He’s off in Alexandria. There’s a little old lady there causing some trouble, and he is helping the staff of the nursing home keep her away from the voodoo crap. Well, when he isn’t being hit on,” He winked. “What can I say, older ladies have a thing for him.”

You almost spat out your coffee laughing. “That’s the case I was about to work when you interrupted my research the other night. I’ve had to go over there a few times. Miss Maxine is always getting herself in trouble. It’s sad, she was an incredible lady back in the day. Scary, but cool. I’m now friends with her daughter. Tell Sam to tell Miss Betty that Y/N says hello, she should give him less fits.”

Dean had amusement in his eyes and a mouthful of pancakes as he texted Sam.

Surprisingly you and Dean had almost cleared your plates completely. The only mishap during breakfast being Dean’s coffee spilling in his lap. Armand could have been worse and had trays of food fall on Dean, so really it wasn’t that bad.

Dean thought that the string of suicides might be ghost or demonic possession, it was an odd one. He had already interviewed the families of the victims and visited the places they were last seen alive the day you met him. In fact, that’s half the reason he had been at Louis and Christine’s. All of the victims had passed through there. You absentmindedly wondered if you had ever seen or met them.

The plan was to take Baby to the house and scope it out for any activity, sulfur, EMF, etc. Simple enough, but you were terrified of what you might find, terrified of the personal demons you would have to face. There was a reason this town didn’t talk about it—the atrocities that occurred there had brought the town to its knees. The town leaders had done everything in their power to keep it out of the papers as to not instill panic. It was only a twenty minute drive, but you didn’t remember falling asleep.

The room was dark with only a few tendrils of light sneaking through the boarded up windows. It was like waking up from a strange dream… but ropes dug into your wrists and ankles, and there was something wrapped around your mouth. Your eyes struggled to focus, and your head ached uncomfortably. You heard a bird outside, the wind. Then the blood curdling scream from beneath the floor boards. It seemed to stretch on, panic rising, threatening to close your throat in fear. You looked for a door, it was closed. Before you could consider getting your binds off and attempting escape through the window, the door flew open, the shuffling and thumping and screaming downstairs fading. There in the doorway was the freshman who spoke about the stars, looking much taller and stronger than he did last night. Was it last night? The light caught his hazel eyes—there was still no reflection. It was as if the light was sucked into them, and nothing escaped. Maybe it wasn’t bad lighting after all. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul. This is my fault—shoulda known. Dammit! The kid pulled you sharply by the binds on your ankles, dragging you down a hall and a flight of stairs, your head, shoulders, and back taking the brunt of it. You were in the basement, if you could tell by the cold, damp, stale air and tiny windows by the ceiling. Your eyes wandered from the windows to the ceiling and stopped, taking in the blood spray. Based on the layers, you and the screamer were not the only victims. You and the kid were surrounded by people in black hooded robes. Seriously? How original. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes—your ear was met with a swift kick and blinding pain. Your head lolled and you felt blood trickle down your neck as they hoisted you up, suspending you by your wrists from the rafters. Those who were cloaked circled you, chanting with deep, low voices. The kid laughed maniacally, lifting his arms as if this gave him more power, then spent unfathomable time carefully slicing into your skin. This you could take, focus on, and despite the blood loss, you knew you could recover fairly quickly. What happened after the sun set until it rose again, you wouldn’t recover from. You refused to cry out, but cried the same, praying for release, to pass out, for death. No relief came.

“Y/N… Y/N! Hey, you okay?” Baby was parked, Dean was crouched down next to you from the outside, his hand on your shoulder and concern in his eyes.

Unable to move for a moment from the paralyzing sensation that these dreams bring you, your eyes drifted to the house.

“I can take you back to town. C’mon, you don’t need to be out here right now.” Dean moved back towards the driver’s seat.

“N-no I’m good, I swear. Just didn’t sleep well last night. Too much whiskey,” You lied. You grabbed your bag and followed him towards the house. With the front door completely boarded up and wrapped in Police tape, Dean decided to entire through the first floor window. Knocking off the half-rotted boards was easy enough, and you set them to the side as he climbed in, EMF reader in one hand, gun in the other. You set the old board in the grass far enough that if you needed a quick escape you wouldn’t land on them upon exit. Turning and standing, the basement window caught your eye. It was the one with the crack running jagged and crossways through it. How many hours, no, days, had you looked at that crack?

Dean’s voice pulled you from your trance. “No EMF yet, and I don’t smell sulfur. I’m gonna check the basement. You comin’?” He poked his out of the window.

“Right behind you.” You followed him in, clutching the little knife in your pocket tightly, and it warmed in response. You knew you could face this. Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and Armand, even though he was a pain in the butt, was fiercely protective of you, helping you through the last three years of recovery.

You followed Dean carefully down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any movement, ectoplasm, or other indication of what was killing these men, trying not to focus on the familiar notches in the walls. As you closed the distance, you jumped and fell, back hitting the stairs, as Dean’s EMF reader went from zero to sixty in no time flat. You smacked your forehead with your palm, realizing that you should’ve left the knife in the car. The EMF was picking up Armand. But it was too late.

“Woah. Jackpot,” Dean turned and gave you that million dollar smile.

“Hey Dean, I left something in the car, I’ll be right back.” You ran to Baby, Armand appearing.

“Hey, don’tcha leave me out her! What’tif tho boys comen back and findju? Huh? You don needta be out her anyway! Les go home, cher, please.” You knew Armand had been through the same ordeal as you but hadn’t been lucky enough to survive it. After all, this is where the knife came from. In life, it had been his. Armand was a local young farmhand fond of attending the parties at the college, until the night he was taken a few months before you.

“Y/N, whatch out!” Dean yelled, and shot Armand with rock salt.

“No! Dean, NO!” You held up your hands in defense, Armand seriously pissed off and back behind you, hiding from the Winchester. “Armand is my friend. Please, I tried to tell you, let me explain.”

Dean slowly lowered his gun. Was there a tear welling up in one eye? He turned slightly, and it was gone. You had heard about Bobby, so hopefully Dean would understand.

“Y/N… you need to let him go, it doesn’t matter wha—“

“You listen to me, Winchester. Whatever is killing those guys, it’s not Armand. He protects me. In return, I protect him. He and I, we have history with this place. Bad history.”

Dean turned his gaze to the house, and back between you and Armand. The sun’s last rays rested in the trees, leaving the house shrouded in darkness.

“Okay, fine. But you owe me an explanation. Now.” Dean stormed back to Baby.

You couldn’t remember ever being this hungry or tired—no, you couldn’t even remember hunger or a time when your bones didn’t strain and ache. There was only numbness, inside and out. You watched without interest when the kid received his own cloak. You felt nothing when they all scampered about, something about police? You couldn’t quite make it out. You just stared at the crack in the window. You liked the way it caught the rain, when it caught the sun, or the glint of candlelight. You liked that window; it was broken like you.

When the police had come and arrested or shot the cloaked people, you just watched. Suddenly they didn’t seem so big anymore. But it was all distant. You fell in and out of consciousness as you had for… how long? That was the day Everette knew he loved you. He cut you from your bonds, covered you and carried you out. He was there when you woke in the hospital. Shortly after, he retired from the force and opened a bar, named after his parents. Said his twenty years were time enough, and he was too old and tired to be carrying pretty girls out of basements. It was time for the young men to do that.

They had held you for a week, some kind of imitation ritual. From the bodies the police found, the victims were both male and female. Whoever was unlucky he guessed. Many victims couldn’t be ID’d and were cremated, including Armand. Everette had given you Armand’s pocket knife when you were finally ready to go back to your apartment. You had thanked him even though it wasn’t yours. It was six months before Armand showed himself (and nearly killed you in fright), but you grew very close even though you never met him in his mortal life. It was a year before he could move things. Two years after the event, you started hunting monsters with Armand by your side. Monsters weren’t as scary as people. In fact, Armand proved himself a better partner than any mortal human could be, with his invisibility, telekinesis, possession, super strength, and ability to see the supernatural beings shrouded from your view. He even helped you send the crossroads demon those men had sold their souls to for strength and power back to hell.

While you relayed your experience to Dean, you failed to notice the weight lifted from your pocket.

Dean sighed and pursed his lips, a hand running through his hair. “Look… Y/N, I’ve been to hell. From the sounds of it, you’ve had a taste as well. But Bobby… ghosts don’t stay good. They lose themselves over time, some slower than others, but it happens. They go vengeful. Especially those who died violently. You have to destroy the knife. Let him go.”

“But—“

“Do you really want a vengeful spirit on your hands? Because he’s getting there,” Dean started to raise his voice gruffly. “These victims—“ Dean was interrupted by a horrible scream.

You froze. “Armand, what was that?”

You got no answer, and instinctively reached for the knife, finding nothing. “Armand! It’s gone!” You turned to Dean in panic. You both jumped out of Baby, armed now with rock salt, guns, and an iron crowbar. Dean ran down the stairs to the basement with you shortly behind. There was a young man, beating himself into a wall. It looked as if someone had also thrown him down the stairs. Startled, he turned to us, staring right down Dean’s shotgun barrel. There was the tiniest black teardrop rolling down his cheek. Dean shot the man with rock salt in the chest without further hesitation, sending Armand out of him. The man slumped down in the corner and moaned, hurt, but alive. Armand growled, the room shook like an earthquake, dust raining down from the rafters.

“Burn it, NOW!” Dean yelled and swung the crowbar through Armand and dissipating him. The ghost was attacking viciously, throwing a bench, glass jars, wrapping dean with bloodied rope. Dean struggled to get free, but managed to toss you his lighter and keep Armand distracted as you lit a small, extremely hot fire with debris under the stairs. You frisked the victim for it, finding it in his hand. You threw the knife in, crying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Armand,” over and over, until the room was quiet, and warm, strong arms were around you.

Neither of you spoke on the short drive to drop the victim off at the hospital. His injuries weren’t too bad, considering.

Dean was cut and bruised, had a busted lip and a few rope burns. You didn’t realize you were staring on the way back to your apartment, but you had memorized the angles of his profile, the way his brow furrowed, and all those freckles. It had been so long since you’d let anyone into your life. Especially men. Armand had kept them at bay…

“It’s not your fault you know,” Dean put Baby in park and shifted a concerned gaze to you. “Even Bobby possessed and tried to kill in the end. Armand held out for a long time. He protected you. Those men—all he saw was your captors. I don’t blame him. Or you. You gotta know that. Those hunts you talked about—you both saved lives. That’s worth somethin.”

“Dean,” you said quietly, “I can’t live here anymore. Armand was mine. He’s been by my side for three years. He always ate all the cereal—do ghosts even eat?—but I swear he did, and he always messed up the laundry, or changed the TV channel at the good part. He always had my back on a hunt, kept me safe when I walked at night. I can’t stay here. He’s gone. This town, my home, it’s all foreign now. How did you do it Dean? How did you come back from hell, and purgatory, and keep going? This world? It weighs on you. And after a while…I don’t belong in it.”

Dean muttered a son-of-a-bitch under his breath. “Okay. You got to listen to me. You got to keep fighting. When you want to stop, fight harder. Me? I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep swinging til I got nothing left. You’re gonna do the same. Now you’ve got a choice. Get out of this life while you can. If you don’t you’re gonna die bloody. We all do in the end. What’s it going to be?”

His words gave you strength. The sun started to peak on the horizon, spreading light pinks and yellows at the edge of the trees. You watched it, the sun now blinding your eyes with the first rays. You turned to meet his gaze. He was so beautiful lit up like that. If it weren’t for a little blood here or there, you could surely count those freckles. The green folds of his irises were lined with flecks of gold. Peace slowly rolled over you with the warmth of those rays, reflecting off those beautiful eyes. Mama always said the eyes are the windows to the soul… and his is the most radiant, beautiful soul I’d ever seen.

“I’ll fight too. I’m a hunter. And if I go out bloody, that’s okay,” you said with steely resolve. There was a strength in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the last three years.

“You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. From purgatory.”

“Oh, you mean Benny?” Dean’s jaw dropped. “Close your mouth or you’re gonna catch a fly, Winchester. Benny would swing through town occasionally. He and Everette could talk for hours over nothing, and I loved to listen. He spoke about you the most.” You grinned at the memory. It was no wonder Benny spoke so highly of Dean, or how Dean’s soul radiated warmth and beauty. You understood the intoxication and the draw that every beast in Purgatory had felt towards Dean. “I miss him, haven’t seen him around in a long time.”

Dean cast his eyes downward. “He chose to go back to Purgatory. Didn’t even let me talk him out of it. He went back to save Sam, and chose not to cross the threshold. Kept talking about it’s purity…” He trailed off. “I won’t let you do the same, so don’t even try.”

Dean waited while you packed your duffle bag with clothes, and a few pictures of your family, and other miscellaneous items from your former life in a small box, left the key in the lock of the stubborn door on your way out. Standing in the middle of the hallway, you waited to hear Armand make things crash because you didn’t grab the knife, but smiled sadly and walked away when there was only silence.

Sam met up with you and Dean at the diner for breakfast. He was a lot taller than you expected.

“Uh, you smell like old lady.” Dean turned up his nose and Sam plopped down next to you, disheveled and tired looking.

“And you smell like moldy basement, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The waitress brought another feast.

“You must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you and um—Miss Betty says for us to take good care of you or she’ll let Miss Maxine turn me into a faut carot?”

“What, a fake carrot?” Dean asked with a mouthful of—apple pie or pancake? You couldn’t tell anymore.

You laughed, “No, Sam, she threatened to turn you into a large black grasshopper.”

Dean hummed humorously through his mouthful of—okay it’s definitely pie—and nodded, raising his eyebrows jokingly at Sam. Sam huffed and crossed his arms. “She said both of us, Dean.” Sam lifted his eyebrows right back. “Said she would know otherwise.”

The brothers caught up, and you filled in the details for both cases that the brothers couldn’t. Bellies full, you all retired to the motel to catch up on much needed sleep, Dean taking the couch. You didn’t dream this time. It was discussed that you would return to the bunker with them until you got back on your feet. Before you left town, though, there was someone you had to talk to.

Everette was shining glasses at the bar, preparing for the busy weekend night ahead. “Bonjour mes amis!”

“Hey Ev! This is Sam and Dean, Winchester.” He nodded in greeting. He knew who they were, knew the whole time. Dean was more than a legend among hunters and those who knew of the supernatural world around them, like Ev. Dean had a reputation regarding ladies, which is why Ev had given him the nonverbal warning. “Ev, I’m leaving town. There’s nothing left for me here.”

“Well boo, it’s about damn time! C’mere,” He walked around the counter to pull you into tight embrace. “You get on out of this Bayou and make somthing of yourself. And don’tchu worry, I’ll come check up on you.”

You held tightly to him as the finality of your leaving struck in you an odd sense of calm and excitement at the same time. “You better. Take care, Ev.” You traded sad smiles, Everette threw a few hairy eyeballs towards the boys, and before you knew it, you were on the road to Lebanon, Kansas. Sam slept some more in the back seat, obviously exhausted from his case, leaving you and Dean in the front. He reached for your hand, and you smiled.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Me too. I’ll keep fighting, til I got nothing left.”

He unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you closer. Now in the middle, you refastened your belt and leaned on his shoulder, the time spent in your hell washed away by his warmth. He held you close, and didn’t let go. Not when you got to your new home, or during the tour of it, and in the night when the dreams would come back, he was right there to push them away again, and so were you for him.

A/N: Thank you so much if you actually made it all the way through this! Here is a bonus gif (not mine).

[seanmalatesta]

What I’ve Learned on the Runway

5 Ways Lighten Your Air Travel

This article is for people who have spent at least one night sleeping on an airport floor. Perhaps your flight was canceled because of fog and you scrambled to catch the last long shuttle bus home, only to miss that one, too.

If you weren’t allowed through screening because the taxi was late and crawled through traffic; if you were forced to check luggage that the airline then lost and had to buy new clothes for that presentation; if you had to take bizarre connecting flights through airports that forced you to march through TWA’s kabuki security theater a second time; if you did any or some combination of these things, or if it sounds strangely familiar, then this is the article for you.

Learning lessons

This is not simply a compendium of airport-induced woes. A lot of these are on me. I’ve been in the word business for about 20 years now—business that has involved a fair bit of domestic travel. And I’ve made many, many mistakes along the way, including going to the wrong airport. Twice!

It is said that life is a great teacher. She sure is a persistent one. Eventually, I paid attention and learned some important things about modern travel from my travels.

These lessons can be divided into personal hacks which are useful for me—what default seat to try for (aisle, zone 2), what pills to keep close at hand (Advil, Tums), what airports to avoid if at all possible (LAX), etc.—and larger strategies that may be more broadly beneficial for business and other travel.

Here are my five strategies for making your flying much less of a train wreck:

1. Cluster your stuff

One of the big problems with traveling is that you forget things—often important things—on your way out the door. There are all kinds of strategies for dealing with this. The simplest and most effective solution is to cluster all the stuff you are going to take in one place. That way you only have to remember one thing: this here cluster. And then to do the same before your return.

This is also true WHILE you travel, as I was reminded on a recent trip to Nashville and back. I stopped at an airport restaurant, put my backpack and rolling bag in different places, ordered, ate, paid the bill, then left the restaurant with only my backpack! About a football field later, I realized the problem and sprinted for it.

2. Reduce how much stuff you take

How much stuff you have in your home is your business, but in modern air travel, it pays to be a minimalist. If you pack too much stuff, you’ll have to check a bag and usually pay extra for it. Best case scenario: You’ll have to wait around for it at the other end. Worst case scenario: The airline loses it and you have to scramble to replace the stuff you really need for your trip.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of reduction on easing travel woes. On especially full flights these days, even that one roller bag that is optimized for the overhead bin may not end up flying with you. So figure out what you need and pack the minimum.

If it’s not expected, maybe you don’t need to pack that jacket. Maybe you can replace that laptop with a tablet, that tablet with a thumb drive, or that thumb drive with files that have been sent and verified in advance. Maybe for short trips, you can replace two carry-on items with one backpack, that can fit under the seat in a pinch. Or maybe you can go with just the clothes on your back and enjoy all that legroom.

Constantly be asking yourself, “Self, what can I leave out and still set myself up for success at the other end?”

3. Print out your own boarding documents in advance

There is one huge exception to the last lesson. These days it’s all the rage to go paperless. Do not attempt that at an airport.

People constantly try to replace boarding passes and the like with their phones. But phones fail. They glitch, run molasses slow, run out of batteries, reboot at inconvenient times, and even die. This leaves the new paperless traveler embarrassed at best and possibly in a whole world of hurt. Talk about the revenge of analog!

I’ve seen the woes of the paperless man many times at airports. She’s the woman who has to step to the side during screening because her phone is rebooting (as I witnessed recently coming back from Nashville); the guy who confidently swipes his barcode at the gate only to be told that it’s not working and maybe go over there and see an agent; the whole group of people shorting bathroom breaks, recharging their low-on-juice phones to try to avoid this fate.

For far better results, check in a full 24-hours in advance, print up your own boarding passes and put them in the cluster. Then have the same documents sent to your phone, as backups.

4. Value your time when scheduling your trip

My poor bank account will attest that air travel can be expensive, but choosing the wrong flight can cost you even more.

Let’s say you find a deal for a round-trip ticket that costs $100 less than another flight but tacks on an extra 2 hours each way. Should you go for it?

It all depends on how you value your time. The simplest way to approach it is to calculate your hourly wage. Do you make $30 an hour? If that is the case then congratulations, you just shorted yourself $20 and you’ll never get that time back.

It could cost much more than that as well. Imagine that you can save $250 on a flight to pitch a prospective client but that will mean that you will have to shortchange your sleep before an early morning presentation. The contract is worth $50,000 annually.

In that case, it’s probably wiser to pay the money, get there with some margin and go to bed early to fight jetlag. That way you have a better chance at being clear-headed and competitive as you make the pitch.

5. Stay home if you can

This one may sound flip, but no. Business travel is expensive, time-consuming, and sometimes unnecessary.

After all, it’s easier than ever to get face time with, well, FaceTime, Zoom, Skype, and the like. We can collaborate on documents over the cloud and communicate effectively within a dispersed organization using tools like Slack and email and this newfangled technology called the telephone.

Sometimes the things keeping us in the air are simply expectations that can and ought to be challenged, respectfully.

For instance, several months ago, I was supposed to go out to Michael Hyatt & Company headquarters for a week but faced a dilemma: There was also a pressing project that had to be done.

I didn’t see how the two were compatible, so I sent my case up the department’s chain of command: Did they still want me to come out there and try to make it work, somehow, or should I hunker down and fix the problem?

How that was resolved is not especially important to this lesson. The point is that for management to even consider canceling the trip, someone had to challenge those assumptions in that schedule. In this case, it was me. But with a few details juggled, it could just as easily have been any one of the tens of thousands of harried Americans who fly for business every day of the week.

from Michael Hyatt, Your Virtual Mentor https://ift.tt/2KbaJHZ via IFTTT

[jonathanleesink]

Poetic Wilderness

Originally posted on October 26, 2016

One of the most difficult things about a newly committed life of sobriety is getting through situations or events where you would typically be drinking otherwise. Parties, sporting events, concerts…those kinds of situations. I recently wrote about my trip to New York City, and some of the temptations I had on that trip. What I have learned through my experiences is the longer I am on this path, and the more situations I get through, the more empowered I feel. It feels like I am experiencing things all over again for the first time, because I am doing it sober. It’s a pretty fantastic feeling. I went and saw Bad Religion play last week and I remember every little detail. Its things like that that makes this journey worthwhile. I am enjoying life in the purest and most true way possible. I recently got back from another trip. A trip where I could enjoy my sobriety, my thoughts, good company, and peace.

As you may have read a month ago, I turned forty years old. The fun thing about milestone birthdays is that some of your friends, and many people you grew up with have the same milestone in the same year as you do. My best friend Mike turns forty in December. Mike and I first met at the designated wooden block area of our kindergarten classroom. We hit it off immediately. As children we did pretty much everything together and a strong bond was formed. The bond has continued all these years. Mike and I haven’t even lived in the same area of the country for nearly twenty years. Several weeks ago I get a text from Mike telling me that he is organizing a backpacking trip in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia. The trip is in mid-October, and is an early celebration of his fortieth birthday, and he is inviting me to join in on the adventure.

I was excited, to say the least, to get invited on this trip. I had some hesitation saying yes at first. I would have to take some vacation time from work, and leave my wife to tend to our children for four days. With some encouragement from my wife that she can handle the kids, I texted Mike back that I was in! Now I had about three weeks to gather all the gear needed to backpack and hike through a forest that also was a designated black bear sanctuary. Yikes! The roster of hikers was going to be myself and Mike, Mike’s brother Dan, Mike’s college friend Mitch, and one of Mitch’s buddies James. Fortunately for Mike, Dan, and me…Mitch and James are seasoned survivalists of the outdoors.

Day 1 Dan and I both live in the Kansas City area. Mike lives in Cincinnati, and Mitch and James live in the D.C. area. Starting on Thursday morning Dan and I load up my car with our gear and begin the nine hour road trip to Cincinnati. The drive went much quicker than I anticipated and we showed up at Mike’s place just before dinner. We spent the evening catching up, carb loading, and making a last minute stop at REI. In the morning the three of us would be back on the road, headed towards West Virginia.

Day 2 The three of us get up really early and start heading east. The further east we get the more beautiful the scenery is. The mountains and valleys are covered in trees with about every shade of autumn color you can imagine. The closer we get to our destination, the poorer our cell phone reception is. The plan is to meet Mitch and James at a predetermined trailhead. The three in my car learn that the trailhead is closed and that you can’t even get a car to that area. We are unable to reach the other two due to the poor reception, so we’re a little concerned that we’re not going to find each other. Through pure luck we find out that we are only about five minutes apart and nearly at the destination point. We meet up and continue to a new trailhead in the Cranberry Wilderness area of the Monongahela National Forest.

The five of us exchange greetings with one another and load up our gear. The most obvious sign of Mike, Dan, and I’s inexperience is our complaints of the weight of the packs we were carrying on our backs. They were somewhere between forty and fifty pounds…I think. We didn’t get started until 3:00 PM, about three hours later than planned. We knew we needed to set up camp and prepare our dinner before it got dark…so we only had a couple hours to hike. We headed down a gravel fire road that skirted along a majestic river with incredibly large boulders diverting the flowing water. The five of us hiked about 4.5 miles down the fire road while we all caught up with the happenings of our personal lives. Eventually we find a nice area along the river to set up camp. The rest of the night was spent eating dehydrated meals and simply hanging out by the campfire. The nice thing was that none of us had any cell phone reception, so there were no electronic distractions the whole trip.

Day 3

We wake up and most of us had a horrible night of sleeping. For myself, I was freezing cold all night long. It was somewhere in the 30’s, I believe, the first night. Oh well, I didn’t really expect a good night’s rest on this trip. We start packing things up, eating breakfast, filtering water. Oh yeah, I should talk about that for a bit. We had to collect water from the river and creeks and filter it for our drinking water. This was surprisingly good tasting water. I was expecting something that tasted like a mix of trout and beaver poop. I’m guessing the cooler weather helps a lot with the taste.

After all is packed up, with trail maps in hand, he start heading up. The goal is to get to the top of the smallish mountain. We climb to about 4,000 feet elevation over 4.5 miles. I had a GPS device with me so I could report distance and elevation to the group. This quickly earned me the nickname of “Data”for the weekend. It was really cool to get to the point where the leaved trees stop and the evergreen trees start. Hiking through the wilderness was my favorite part of this trip. Navigating through and over some pretty untamed terrain was challenging and poetic at the same time. And at the back of your mind is the constant reminder that we are in bear country.

At the top of the mountain we stumble upon a recently used campsite. It had a fire ring, some firewood neatly stacked, and plenty of room for three tents. We put our heavy packs down and start setting up our home for the evening.

Day 4 This is the last day in the wilderness. We wake up relatively early to get started on our six mile hike back to where our cars are. Six miles may not sound like much, but when you have forty-fiveish pounds on your back, and you’re hiking through ungroomed singletrack trail…it’s quite a ways. Eating breakfast and loading up our gear went pretty smoothly, so he hit the trail. This day was definitely my favorite as far as scenic hiking goes. There was this one section of forest that was serene and a little bit haunting where the sun was shining, but was muted by the tall forest trees. The ground was covered with a green mossy plant. We agreed that it felt like we were on the Ewoks home planet of Endor from Return of the Jedi. Honesty…the similarities were amazing.

As we proceed with our hike we are continually descending back to our starting elevation of about 2,700 feet. Hiking downhill with extra weight and three days of hiking in your legs is tough. My calves were screaming at me. The serenity of walking through the forest made the aches and pains tolerable. It was definitely a meditative experience for me. I completely encompassed the environment and quietly used the time on the trails to reflect on what I have accomplished in the last seven and a half months.

We made it back to the cars around 3:00 PM. We survived with no bear attacks. I did stab myself in the eyeball with a stick on accident. That was scary for a couple hours, but all is good now.

Day 4.5 - 5 This is where things get exhaustively interesting. Mike, Dan, and I hop in my dependable Ford Focus and get on the road to head back to Cincinnati. We drive five hours to drop Mike off, then Dan and I keep going to Kansas City. We drive through the night and I walk into my house at 6:00 AM…right before my family is about to wake up. We made it. I am home.

I apologize, this came out a lot longer than expected. This trip was much needed for me. I was able to spend good quality time with my oldest friend, and three other awesome mates. I was unplugged from the ever time-sucking world of smartphones, laptops, and television. I had times of solitude to reflect on where I have been and where I want to go. I saw a beautiful area of the country that I’ve never had the opportunity to see up close and personal. I want to wish Mike a Happy 40th Birthday. I want to thank Mike, Dan, Mitch, and James for an adventurous time in the Cranberry Wilderness.

Sincerely, Data