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swimmingleo · 3 years

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Changes: or to take the higher ground before it's too late

I'm going to be real here folks, I cry ugly tears to this song. Bad.

Changes is a song on Cam's album "The Otherside". It's country, it's folk and it's an album a bit influenced by changes in Cam's life (a change of label, personal life). She collaborated with Harry on the song Changes, as she opened for him on a venue and was already working with Tyler Johnson.

From what I gathered: Harry sent her the demo of the song, implying he made most of the writing on this one. What I'm basing this claim on is her interview for Rolling Stones (read it here):

I heard [the demo] and was just like, “Oh, this ache to outgrow something that you don’t want to outgrow!” It felt so good. I normally don’t take outside songs [...]

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️when analysing this song, I'm gonna go from the idea of it being written with a queer mindset (how surprising of me). Cam rendered the song beautifully and it is very much her own, but I believe Harry's input is consequential. After all that's his lil whistle and cute fishsona in the MV.

Sad queer analysis ahead.

Let's analyse the lyrics first:

There is a town

Somewhere down a country road

The speaker describes the town to us, from memory, from experience. "There it is, down the road, can you picture it ?"

I see it now

I take it everywhere I go

The speaker doesn't currently live in the town, they're on the move (nice throwback to the coutry road). But despite all the travelling, they realize the sedentary smalltown never leaves them. It's part of them. It left a mark on them.

The river sways, I can almost hear it now

As if to say, "You're not the only one who wants a way out"

The town is so real to the speaker they can sense it, eyes and ears. But it gets a bit dark: the river sways like it's trying to leave its bed. The river is envious of the speaker who managed to leave. The town is so toxic even nature wants to get away from it. Or the speaker resents the town so bad that they project their own resentment on the river.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like I don't know you anymore

I memorize those roads

This is the call for the speaker to leave for good. Their motive doesn't seem to be ambitious or anything grand. They leave because they apprehend a feeling. Apprehending a feeling, something that may not even happen, is the way of an anxious person. Anxiety is the motive of their departure. However, they still memorize the roads leading to the town, just in case. Perhaps one day they'll come back.

Somewhere out in the big wild country

Someone's fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like their hearts won't ever break

Suddenly it's about love ! Young love, one that is lived in the small compartment of a car, somewhere hidden and safe in the big wild country. As if the countryside was unexplored and threatening.

God bless the young hearts sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with their friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

The speaker looks at the youth with tenderness, wishing them the best. But once again, they're not in the town in the present time, they don't see the youngsters fooling around, they can only guess from first-hand experience. And it's very specific: falling in love, getting drunk with friends and thinking everything's gonna be easy like that forever until it's not and heartbreak ensues.

From there I hop in with the raw queer theme of those lyrics. It started by falling in love and it ended up in a heartbreak. In between, the speaker got drunk for the first time with their friends, people they trusted enough to let go a little, but in the end everything changed. Why ? Alcohol makes you forget about code of conduct, how you're supposed to behave. It makes you say or do things you might not have done sober.

We can interprete this chorus as the beginning of the end for the speaker. It's the only part of the song evocating the past, and it's fun and easy, but it's also where things started to get bad the way they are in the present. Something might have happened that first time the speaker got drunk and it marked the end of innocence and careless childhood, and it probably has to do with love as no other factor is provided apart from falling in love and heartbreak.

They never leave

They're all havin' babies now

Watchin' daytime TV

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

They. With Harry, it's always You, Me, and They. They are having babies, all of them, like it's not a very difficult thing to do, it's just natural. They have the leisure of the day, not a thing to worry about, if not gossip. It's not implied anymore, the small town is downright cruel. Gossip fuels it, but on behalf of someone else, and that someone is most definitely the speaker who left and who describes its inhabitants in the most mundane way, perhaps with a hint of contempt. The speaker seems bitter.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like you don't know me anymore

Don't recognize my face

Reprise of the pre-chorus except now, the speaker provides another reason for their departure. Not only they feared they wouldn't know the town anymore, they also feared being seen as a stranger. It's not like the speaker actually changed physically: but it might as well feel like it. Again, apprehension, anguish. As implied in the chorus, things changed to the point where the speaker feels they would seem like a whole another person to the rest of the town, a stranger, a threat to the integrity of the conservatives. So they leave before this shift in perception can happen.

There ain't nothing here for me anymore

They say they don't hear from me anymore

And I don't wanna hear it anymore

The town is not outwardly hostile. It's still the town that saw the speaker as a kid. The town doesn't understand why the speaker left, but the speaker won't give in and get in touch. They want to be as far away as possible, until they don't hear the questions, the river, everything. It's almost like the speaker doesn't carry the town in their heart at all. They want to forget it all, and it hurts everytime the town tries to lure them back in. The way Cam sings it is painful to me man

Somewhere out in the big wild country

I was fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like my heart won't ever break

Had such a young heart sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with my friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

Yeah, just the confirmation of the chorus being the speaker's experience. I went ahead and assumed it was already lol but it's like a plot twist effect. It's dramatic. It's a personal song to someone.

TO MAKE IT SHORT to me this song is intense and very in touch with the queer experience. Though it describes a specific situation, it is surprisingly not that detailed or full of metaphors the way Harry often writes: this town could be literally any smalltown in the countryside. The backseat could be the one of any car, cheap wine is something any teen can afford. I like to think Harry wrote it for himself but is also aware so many people went through the same thing, and still will. I have to admit I'm heavily biased writing this, as the experience of a queer kid struggling to find their place in a well settled smalltown is familiar.

GETTING DRUNK AND QUEER IDENTITY is an analogy Harry already used in Fine Line when he sang "We'll get the drinks in so I'll get to thinking of her". To drink is to let go, to unveil the most subconscious aspects of yourself you might not want to deal with otherwise. You don't care about judgement and you get to explore those parts freely. In Changes, this is the last memory they recall before stating the changes and their departure. Perhaps getting drunk for the first time would be when they realized they're queer. Or acted upon it, causing their little world to shake. They chose to leave before it eventually wouldn't feel like a choice anymore. There is no life for people like them in a cruel smalltown.

SMALLTOWN BOY

This song reminds me an awful lot of Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat. The song is about a queer boy having to leave the smalltown where he grew up because of persecutions and no future prospects.

Mother will never understand why you had to leave, Smalltown Boy

They say they don't hear from me anymore, Changes

But the answers you seek will never be found at home, the love that you need will never be found at home

There is nothing here for me anymore

Other people not understanding why they leave. People who can't truly empathize even when they mean no harm. They would never understand the speaker's departure, because those people get to find love and have babies and live a peaceful life in the countryside.

You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

Yeah yeah. I really struggle with just seeing this song as nostalgia when such harsh words are being used. I do believe there is a part of fondness for that town, that countryside setting and the early days. But it's not all tender memories.

CHANGES AND ERODA

Of couuuurse we all noticed the adorable purple fish with the pearl necklace. It represents Harry, no question, as it whistles Harry's part. And of couuuuurse we all made the link with the erodian fish, and some even noticed they formed the bluegreener pair when their colors are inverted.

It makes sense for those fishes to be connected with this interpretation of Changes. Both works are about a small town, lost in the nature, where the people are watching, aware of everything that isn't normal, that is peculiar. The early life of the peculiar boy is similar in every way to the early life of the speaker in Changes. The fish in Adore You grows too big for the island and has to leave, and though Eroda makes amends with the peculiar boy, he leaves as well because his future, his fulfilment, is somewhere else. So does the speaker in Changes.

IN CONCLUSION

The more I write posts like this, the more endeared I am by Harry's world. How Harry writes for himself, but also for other people with songs like this. How nature finds its way in all that he does. How grounded he is, how he doesn't seem to forget where he came from. It really is such a rare thing to see in a mainstream popstar's writing and art. How can someone say he sold his soul to LA is beyond me

#very dear to my heart this song #was in the drafts for quite a long time too #but hey i took louis' new song as a cue lol #they do have parallels #though i feel like louis' change is way more accepting #louis' way more at peace with the idea of time passing and leaving the town behind #not saying harry still struggles or not but the story told in changes is more pain than healing to me #anyway love their brains love them muahmuah #my analysis #song analysis #harry styles

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honestlyhappyharry · 3 years

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Chapter 10

The Storm

Chapter 9

Something on Tuesday morning felt off. Harry had stayed over again, much to your delight. He didn't want to overstep the boundary lines but everything was falling into place between the two of you, it was like you had gone back to your old relationship. Warm and cozy was all you could feel.

But that morning was cold. Harry's side of the bed was cold, at only 6:30. While he'd not stayed over much you still felt like it was out of character.

You tried to push it out of your head and got out of bed to pack Lily's lunch for Pre K before making her breakfast.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peeked into the lounge to see Harry hunched over on the couch, phone in hand. "Are you okay?" He popped his head up and just started, blankly.

He was a lot different from his usual morning clinginess when he wrapped himself around you, not letting you get up.

"Get out your phone," Harry told you, the tone of his voice made you do it quickly. His tone wasn't mad but upset or a little hurt. You quickly pulled out your phone from your pyjama shorts and waited for his instruction. "Go on Twitter." That sent your head racing, Twitter had always been a wild place of quick-spreading news and all you could think about was what was written about you and Harry.

Lily never crossed your mind.

Harry watched you for a few minutes while you looked through the stream of tweets. "Oh, shit." Finally, you snapped up to meet Harry's eyes again. "This is really, really bad."

"I know," Harry stated, patting the seat next to him so you sat down beside him. "It started with an article on the Daily Mail with a photo of me and Lily from last night, you know when I was carrying her to the car?" You nodded at that. "I didn't even realise anyone was there and I think it was posted after we went to bed. Then, like most things about me, it blew right up on Twitter this morning in the UK before it was morning over here. Pretty much the whole world was tweeting about it before we woke up."

"It would be good if your fans slept." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled a little. "It's the top trending hashtag. The press is going insane and management have flipped out. I'm not even sure what the fans are thinking, maybe mad or confused or even happy."

Harry dropped his head into his hands and left his phone on the couch beside him. It was still unlocked and you could see more tweets flooding in. If you spent the whole day reading the tweets that were already tweeted, you wouldn't finish reading them for the whole day.

Something like the was bound to happen, Lily looked exactly like Harry so it wasn't hard to put two and two together, but you thought you'd have a few more months. Especially last night because you hadn't seen anyone who even looked interested in who Harry was.

"I'm really sorry, Haz. I know that was not how you wanted it to come out and it's not how I wanted it to come out either." You told him as you wrapped your arms around him, desperately trying to console him.

"I have to do an interview on Wednesday, you know, trying to explain it all. Until then please promise me something." Harry informed you and you nodded, anything he wanted you would agree to. "Please don't look at Twitter until it's all sorted. Or Instagram." He told you and you nodded in agreement.

"Okay, but you're also on a ban." You told him, knowing people would be saying worse about you but you hardly wanted him to see all the bad things that were being said about him.

"I promise." He agreed, before getting up. "I should go, though, got lots of music stuff to do." He told you as he walked to the door, you followed and waited for him to put his shoes on.

"I'll miss you." You told him before he spun around. His hands were instantly on your waist, yours moving to his chest. He kissed your lips for a few seconds, giving you the same electric feeling you always get around him.

He smiled once he pulled away. "I'll miss you more, baby. And I'll call you later." He left you standing there, wondering how wrong it was all about to get.

You woke up on Wednesday, hoping that it was all a bad dream. The worry was almost as bad as Monday. It was made worse by the fact Harry wasn't there. However, the little voice jumping on your bed urged you to get up.

"Mummy, mummy, get up." Lily cheered as she jumped on your bed making you sigh. Sleep-ins were a rarity in your house but no matter what you were grateful to get up to the little girl.

Rolling over to face her you opened your arms so she could fall into them. You placed a kiss on her head and inhaled her smell, it was something you never wanted to forget.

"Are you excited to get your nails done?" You ask her and she nodded quickly. She had been talking about it since you told her what was happening.

"I'm getting pink, remember." She told you excitedly, it wasn't her favourite, yellow was but she was decided.

After breakfast and you both got changed, Lily was in the car with you as you drove to the nail salon. Your nerves were getting worse as you got closer but you arrived 7 minutes early, also 7 minutes before Harry's interview. Thankfully a radio interview limited the face to face contact Harry could have with an interviewer. However, it was live which meant no editing.

"Gem!" Lily said as she saw Gemma. You could tell from dinner that they had clicked. Lily loved listening to her tease Harry and their personalities were a lot alike.

"Lily!" Gemma replied as she picked her up and hugged her. They really looked a lot alike and the few baby photos you could remember of her as a child rendered them identical.

They hugged and you gave Anne a hug. "I'm so sorry about what happened with the press." She whispered and you smiled at the fact that after so much time she still cared enough to say something. It was an ode to how close Harry and Anne were.

"It sucks, but Harry's interview is in a few minutes so hopefully it'll get cleared up." You told her and she nodded. You doubted it would but a little social media cleanse was nice.

Soon after you hugged Gemma who only said, "It'll be alright," to which you nodded, knowing, in the end, it would be.

There was a little bit of resentment towards the press because you wanted to be able to tell the world on your terms.

The nail bar was nice, modern and sleek. Unlike Lily's bold neon pink, you went for a plain white which you figured looked best with summer outfits. Summer was a very exciting idea, having all that time to spend with Harry and Lily.

Once your nails were done Gemma and Anne insisted that you and Lily came with them to lunch, which you gratefully agreed to. It was an incredible feeling to be fitting back into their family after so long apart and you were thankful they were so accepting.

You could tell Anne was itching to talk to you, a more nervous silence falling over the atmosphere. As soon as you got to the restaurant and ordered Anne made Gemma take Lily to the park across the road to play. There was an odd mix of gratitude and fear you were feeling.

"Did you know the first night Harry told me that he had Lily, I was over at his place and I just started crying?" She started and you shook your head before she continued her story. "I was mad at him, so upset with the whole situation but I felt a lot of sympathy for you both. I wouldn't tell him this but you went through worse, raising her all alone which is why I was mad at Harry. I don't know all the details of your breakup but I feel for him when he was in that state." She continued while you nodded, out of all of her qualities she was so emotionally intelligent. "I wanted to talk to you, but he wouldn't let me."

"I know." You said, there was still the unresolved guilt you felt. Anne had an amazing granddaughter she hadn't met until a long time after your parents had met her. But thankfully Anne was much smarter than to be jealous. "I wish you guys had met her before now." She could tell it was the truth. "I even wish I stayed with Harry or went back to tell him or just anything that didn't lead to today."

Anne wasn't going to let you take the fall. "I've never blamed you for what you did. I still blame him for driving you away but I know how hard it was for him." It was nice to pour your heart out to someone who was so neutral despite hearing her son's grief for years.

"It's nice to have someone else to talk to about this." You smile over at her and she returns it.

"Mummy!" A small voice called and Lily came walking over, hand in hand with Gemma. They were both wearing the same famous Styles smirk.

"Hey, how was the park?" You asked her, just before your phone started ringing. Embarrassed, you pulled it out to put it on silent but your eyes glanced at the name.

Harry <3

You look around at everyone else. "It's Harry."

"Take it," Anne told you quickly. "It'll be important or he'd text." She definitely knew him very well. Gemma nodded, taking her seat next to Anne while Lily sat next to you and coloured her colouring book.

"Thanks." You smiled, answering the call as you walked away to somewhere quieter. "Hey." You spoke into the phone.

"Baby." Harry's low voice came over the phone, making a shiver come over your spine. "Did you hear my interview?" He's quick to ask.

By now you had pushed open the doors and you were standing outside. Thankfully the wind wasn't too cold on your skin. There was a little park bench near the restaurant where you sat, phone to your ear. "No, how did it go?"

"It was okay. They asked about Lils, obviously. How old she was, you know the general stuff." You could tell there was something off in his voice, something he wasn't telling you so you didn't reply until he spilt the beans. "Then there was some personal questions about what happened between me and you and why Lily was never known to anyone." He continued, getting quieter.

"Are you alright though?" Even if you didn't want to hear the answer, you had to ask.

"Yeah, I am. I think it's good the story has been set straight. It's going to be better now though and I'm excited to talk you all out without the paparazzi finding out." The air felt lighter, and if you could see yourself you'd see how much more relaxed you looked.

You nodded before realising he couldn't see you. "I mean they'll still probably going to write some terrible stories."

"Yes, and maybe don't go on social media or those celebrity gossip websites, my team is still saying they're still slamming me." His tone was an indicator he was hurt about it, which made you hurt because this whole situation was partly your fault.

"I'm sure they're slamming me too." You laugh, unreciprocated.

His pause was an acknowledgement of his agreement. "Don't want you to get upset, so please don't."

"I should go, we're having lunch." You tell him, thinking back to who you left inside.

"Yeah, how's it all going though?" He asked, still wanting to talk.

"It was really fun, we're had our nails done, we talked a bit and now we're at lunch."You tell him and you can almost see him nod.

"Ooo, anything about me?" He asked quickly, he seemed back to his normal self.

"Hmm, maybe. Is there anything else?" You asked him.

"Can I come over later? I don't really know how this works." He sighs, it made you giggle a little bit about his shyness.

You thought about it for a second before you replied. "I think it works like it used to when we didn't live together but we might as well have been." You confirmed, only imagining his smile.

"Right, so I come over, we have sex, go to sleep and then have some more sex." His crude comments made your eyes widen.

"Harry Edward Styles, I meant you can come over whenever you'd like but maybe I'll retract that." You smirked to yourself as you heard him sigh.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should also go but don't forget who's name you'll be screaming tonight."

There was no point in trying to reprimand him now. "I'll see you later." You said as you ended the phone call. It made you feel warm inside, as cliché as it was, knowing you'd be the one he fell asleep next to made everything seem better.

You walked the few metres back into the restaurant and talk a seat down at the table. Quickly you realised how long you had been on the phone with Harry.

All Lily, Anne and Gemma looked up at you. "What happened?" Anne was quick to ask.

"He just wanted to talk to me about the I-N-T-E-R-V-I-E-W." You spelt out so Lily remained unaware of what was going on. Not that she seemed to be paying attention to what was going on, she was still colouring.

"Oh, did he say how it went?" Gemma pipped up. She was always curious, that was something you learnt when you dated Harry all those years ago and she was asking how everything was going. Not that you minded it.

You nodded. "He said it was good to get it all out but the media and fans are still in a bit of a frenzy so he's said no social media for me." You let out a sigh, being in mock frustration.

"He's very sweet when he's in love." Gemma didn't even realise the words she was saying until they came out, that was when your eyes widened.

"Gemma," Anne growled, stopping her from talking about how much Harry loved you with a disappointed head tilt. You found it hard to keep the thoughts from racing after that. Did Harry love you? Did you love him? Did his feeling from all those years come back? Had it been long enough?

You hoped the answer was 'yes' but your mind forced some rationalisation. When you first told Harry you loved him you had only been together for 2 months and you had almost been dating him for 3 now. Maybe it was more innocent now.

After what Gemma said, the conversation slowed down a bit but by the time lunch was over you were on top of the world. Everything finally felt like it had fallen into place.

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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From Under Liquid Glass (2) (Branjie)- Ortega

a/n: somebody said they wanted another lil chapter to this, so i hope u all enjoy! it’s been quite a while since the first chapter was posted, so if u want to catch up u can read here! I hope u all enjoy it, and as always feel free to send love to AQ or to my blog!!

Trigger Warning: lots of discussion around anxiety throughout the whole fic so just generally would say avoid if that’s something that’s going to potentially affect u

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes was always told she’d have it all. She was never told that “all” would include crippling anxiety. Signed off from work at 27, Brooke moves back to her childhood home and has to get her head around her fall from grace.

Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo has no job, no degree, and -£32.65 to her name, but she prides herself on keeping a level head. That all changes when a certain high school crush moves back into town and back into her life.

***

Brooke sat in a slightly cushioned red chair with a curved back, rendering her almost horizontal in the way it reclined. Opposite her in an identical chair was an older woman of around 40, who wore thick-rimmed purple glasses and had ensured the whole room smelt of incense sticks. So far she was filling every therapist stereotype in the book.

“So the purpose of today’s session, Brooke Lynn,” she said, in a voice so calming it made her sound like she’d been tranquilised and was moments away from passing out. “Is to just let me get to know a bit about you and your situation and what’s brought you here to me.”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. “I’ve been…signed off from work. With stress.“

The woman sat opposite her, simply looking. Not staring. Not replying. Just looking. It soon became clear that she wasn’t going to speak, so Brooke sighed, crossed a leg and opened her mouth again. "And…it fucking sucks? Like I’ve been off for a couple of days now and I’m waiting for the moment where I don’t wake up feeling guilty as all hell and panicked and wanting to go back and work through it, but I know if I go back nothing will have changed and they’ll treat me like I’m all better and I won’t be.”

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. “You mentioned ‘they’, who’s 'they’, Brooke Lynn?"

Brooke frowned, disliking the use of her name. It felt too personal, too familiar. She had only just met the woman and here she was about to tell her all her life story? There was no way she could do this.

Nevertheless, she puffed a lot of air out of her cheeks and continued. "My management. They don’t care about staff wellbeing. As long as there’s a body in the room, they’re happy.”

The woman nodded slowly, then cast an eye to the forms on the small coffee table beside her that Brooke had filled in just moments ago. “So you’re a secondary school teacher. It must be a very high-pressured job- exam grades to be met, reports to write, challenging behaviour?"

Brooke knew what she was trying to do, to get her to reveal more information without really asking her anything. It grated on her, and part of Brooke wanted to call her out on it irritably but then she’d be filling another therapy stereotype, the guarded, cranky patient who didn’t want to let her walls down, so she didn’t. "Yes. I teach dance, so. There’s lots of pressure to get my kids into dance schools as well. From parents, from management, from the kids.”

“And do you feel that some of that pressure comes from yourself?” the therapist asked. Brooke was taken aback by the question. She furrowed her brows.

“I mean…yeah, I guess? I always tend to put pressure on myself but that’s how I function, it’s how I work best, under pressure. So there’s always got to be a bit of that.”

“And do you feel under pressure just now, being off work?”

Brooke again was unsure. She thought of her answer for a moment before she said it, the room filled with silence. “I guess not? I mean no, maybe, yeah. Pressure to come back, I suppose.”

“Okay. Let’s take right now. Are you feeling under any pressure?"

Brooke blinked. If she thought about it too much, then yeah, sure. But at the moment, in the moment, she felt fine. She felt safe, if guarded. "No.”

“And are you still functioning?”

“…Yes.”

“So you don’t really need to pressure yourself to work hard. Do you?”

Brooke felt her eyebrows raise. Her voice caught in her throat. “I…guess not.”

There was a small pause. The woman nodded back at her. “Maybe something that we can work on is…thinking in the moment.”

Brooke felt an odd sense of clarity. Was this how therapy was supposed to feel? “Okay. Sure.”

The therapist moved on. “So you detailed you were living at home for the time being. What’s your support system like here?”

“Uh, there’s my Mum and my Dad. Both still working, inexplicably, since they both should’ve retired a couple years ago. They’re sweet and supportive but I don’t feel like I can really properly talk to them, you know?”

The therapist nodded and said nothing. This was like pulling teeth.

“Uh, there’s my cat, Henry. Well, he’s not strictly my cat, he’s the family cat.”

“And what about friends?” the woman asked inquisitively, Brooke shrugging easily.

“Yeah, I mean I have-” she cut herself off. Yvie? Plastique? Bianca? Scarlet? Detox? No. None of them she could really call support. Nina? She was sweet, but she was a work friend, plus she was now miles away back in the city. Who did Brooke actually have? The thought sobered her, and she clammed up. The therapist gently spoke again.

“We don’t have to discuss friendships today if that’s a particularly sore subject for you, but it’s good that you at least have family around you at this time.”

“It’s not that it’s a sore subject, I guess I just…” Brooke sighed, feeling a lump in her throat which she quickly swallowed down. “I just didn’t realise how few friends I have any more.”

“It’s natural to lose contact with people as you grow older. Perhaps one thing you could decide to do with your time off is to catch up with old friends while you have the time. It may help you feel more grounded, or lift your mood,” the woman suggested gently. Brooke watched as she glanced to the clock on her desk. “That’s almost it for the time we have. Next session we’ll talk a bit more in detail about what we’ve covered just now, but it was good to meet you today, Brooke Lynn, and to get to know you a bit. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Brooke thought. “Uh, how many of these sessions would you say I had to have before I start feeling…you know. Myself again.”

Her therapist set her mouth in an awkward line. “That’s not for me to say. It’s whenever you feel ready and whatever pace you move at over the course of these sessions. It’s entirely your decision.”

Brooke nodded briefly. That was good. She enjoyed having the control, enjoyed feeling like she could stop at any time.

“What time would suit you for next week’s session?”

Brooke cracked a smile. “Uh, well, I’m pretty easy, what with the whole being signed off work thing.”

The woman opposite her just looked at her expectantly. Tough crowd, therapists. Brooke picked the same day, same time and then left the building, the professional, office-like facade rendering none of the general public able to tell that Brooke has just been to see someone because she was ever so slightly fucking loopy. She felt as if she was part of Men In Black. Or the MIB would have to stand for something else. Mentally Ill Bitch? That should do it.

Checking the time and slowing down outside a coffee shop, she shrugged. It was just past 10 and she hadn’t had any breakfast yet, unless she counted a beta blocker and a cup of tea. She pushed the door and headed inside, the smell of coffee hitting her instantly and reminding her of work, an uneasy feeling creeping up in her chest. The feeling only got worse when she saw who was in the queue one person ahead of her. She heard her before she saw her, Vanessa shouting up an order for a cappuccino loudly over the banging and whirring of the coffee machines. She was dressed in a smart red pinafore dress with a black top underneath, its ¾ length sleeves showing off her tanned arms. Brooke was thrown, looking at the ceiling, the floor, the suspicious-looking cheese and mushroom toasties on display, anything and anywhere apart from the girl’s face. Brooke felt herself hold her breath. Why the fuck was she destined to bump into Vanessa every time she looked like a demon from an M. Night Shyamalan movie? Her hair (clean, but not blow-dried so all her ends were dry and frizzy) was swept up into an unattractive ponytail that made her look like a forgotten Mitchell brother, she didn’t have a scrap of makeup on her face, and all her clothes were the ones from uni she’d neglected to take with her when she moved so she was wearing dark blue jeans, white converse, and a horrific blue sweatshirt patterned with sushi with “THIS IS HOW I ROLL” in huge white letters across the front, which had seemed like a good idea to nineteen-year-old Brooke.

And then Vanessa turned around and hit her with a huge beaming smile, her face lighting up in surprise. Fuck. For a huge town, it did simultaneously seem really quite small.

“Hey! Brooke Lynn! Come up! She’s with me,” Vanessa gestured and said to the barista, an awkward Brooke shuffling past the man in front of her and over to Vanessa. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks- uh, an almond croissant and a flat white, please,” Brooke said to the man across the counter from her, cringing as she felt the judgemental eyes of the man queueing behind her boring into her. Trying to ignore her overwhelming embarrassment at feeling watched, she turned to Vanessa instead. “How are you?”

“I’m fuckin’ peachy, girl. Gone and got myself an interview, haven’t I?” Vanessa smiled proudly, a smile involuntarily springing to Brooke’s face.

“Oh, wow, that’s great! Congratulations!"

"Yeah, well, it’s only Lidl. It’s not amazing. But I’m still excited,” Vanessa shrugged, Brooke clocking the dimples that appeared as the other girl smiled. Had they always been a thing?

“You could say you’re a Lidl bit excited,” Brooke said, completely monotone as Vanessa snorted a laugh and thumped her on the arm. Brooke was distracted by the barista who asked her if she wanted her food to take away. Brooke gave a quick glance at Vanessa, who smiled hesitantly.

“I’ve got mine to sit in. I’ve got twenty minutes or so before I have to head for my train, you can come join me if you want,” she shrugged lightly, Brooke feeling a blush hit her cheeks. Why? Why was she blushing? It was only a girl from high school asking her to hang out.

“Sure. Sitting in then, please,” Brooke smiled tightly at the barista. She held her card out to tap against the reader, but before she could even react, Vanessa had leaned across and got her own card there first. Brooke turned to her with narrowed eyes and the other girl smirked cheekily. “You’re literally unemployed.”

“Oh, what, and a bitch can’t treat a girl to nice things?” Vanessa snapped, her face at once furious, and Brooke felt her own blanche in horror. A tsunami of relief washed over her as Vanessa suddenly laughed, her eyes crinkling up at the edges. “Jesus H Christ, you’re far too easy to wind up. You’re like a lil’ clockwork toy.”

Brooke felt her cheeks grow hot. Blushing again. What the fuck?

They took their drinks to a small seat beside the window, where the glass was wet and misty from condensation and the people passing outside moved like ghosts. Vanessa curled her hands around the huge mug of coffee, neglecting to sip it yet and instead choosing to tilt her head and smile at Brooke gently. “So, you’re up kinda early for a bitch that’s off work. You not livin’ the high life watching Judge Rinder and sleepin’ in til noon an’ shit?”

Brooke gave a laugh. “I was at therapy.”

“Damn, well I really put my foot in it there,” Vanessa gave a slightly choked cough and smiled guiltily at Brooke. “I’m sorry, girl. How was it? You make any amazing breakthroughs?”

“Well it was only the first session. It was mainly just me filling out paperwork and telling her about my life and stuff,” Brooke shrugged, looking down as she ripped her croissant in two. When she looked up, Vanessa was biting back a smile, her eyes sparkling a little.

“Damn. You paid forty pounds for that?”

Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the girl opposite her, trying and failing to hold back a smile at Vanessa’s mischievous grin. “Forty five actually.”

“Oh, my bad. Sorry. Forty five,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke laughing in spite of herself. “Shit, maybe I should become a terrapin.”

“…therapist,” Brooke corrected her, a little awkward. As Vanessa snorted at herself, her cheeks grew red in a blush that only seemed to make her more endearing. Intrigued, Brooke tilted her head. “Okay, then, Miss Therapist. What would you say to me? What advice would you give?”

“Well, I’d just say that…” Vanessa began, looking a little lost. Snapping her gaze back to Brooke, her face seemed to soften. It set off a warm feeling that spread across Brooke’s heart and out into her chest. “I’d say that things look really shitty now, but it’s always darkest before dawn, y’know, and tomorrow’s another day. Just try not to look at things long-term. I don’t know, I know I hardly know you, really, but you just seem like someone who has this big five-year-plan. You don’t have to, girl. You’re what, twenty-seven?”

“Good to know I look my age,” Brooke quipped dryly. Vanessa kicked her underneath the table.

“Bitch, I know how old you are! I was fourteen when you were eighteen, so you’re twenty-seven now! Am I wrong?”

“Do you call all your clients bitches?” Brooke asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“Only the pretty ones,” Vanessa gave her a look that Brooke couldn’t make out, but she knew it made her cross her legs under the table and squeeze her thighs together. Vanessa raised her coffee to her lips and gave a light shrug. “And the ones that are bitches, of course.”

Brooke snorted a laugh. “Okay, so that’s your advice? One day at a time, it’s always darkest before dawn? Damn, I’ve never visited a therapist that speaks entirely in cliches.”

Vanessa finished drinking and put her mug down. “Ah, but I actually gave you advice! Which is more than yours did today, what’d she do, give you some forms and listen to your life story?”

“Stop trash-talking my therapist, god,” Brooke rolled her eyes, Vanessa laughing playfully opposite her. Her deep brown eyes seemed to light up every time she laughed or smiled, giving them a sparkle that Brooke couldn’t help but be drawn to. “You’re not getting paid for that, by the way.”

“Damn. Shame, really. I could use it if this job interview goes to shit,” Vanessa shrugged, her smile turning the slightest bit sad as she turned to look out the window. “Which it prolly will.”

“Don’t say that! It’ll be fine. Better than fine! You’ll be great,” Brooke insisted, almost falling over herself to reassure Vanessa. God, why was she so nervous all of a sudden? It was probably the anxiety. It definitely wasn’t the smile Vanessa sent her way in return.

“You’re sweet,” she said softly, a slight flush of red hitting her cheeks.

Yep. Definitely the anxiety. Not Vanessa’s outrageously fucking beautiful face.

“Well, I’m telling the truth! You’d be great in retail, I don’t know why people aren’t falling over themselves to employ you.”

“Brooke, when I said I didn’t have any quali…qualificitations…”

“Qualifications.”

“…fuckin’, A-Levels. I meant it. I have nothin’. I’m fuckin’ Whitney Houston over here,” Vanessa gave a small laugh, sighing as she took another sip. Brooke couldn’t help but mirror the sigh.

“If you don’t mind me asking…how come?” Brooke asked tentatively, cushioning the invasive question with a compliment. “You always struck me as someone really bright,”

Vanessa snorted. “Your judgement’s poor, boo. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. How d’you think I was fourteen in Year 7? I had to sit Year 5 twice. You know I straight-up couldn’t write a sentence on my own until I was eight?”

Brooke tried to feign indifference but she knew her expression gave her away. Vanessa laughed. “Exactly, bitch! Then when I got to high school, the teachers were all bitchier an’ meaner. And I was goin’ through puberty as well, which made me bitchier an’ meaner. So bitchy mean teachers plus bitchy mean Vanjie was never gonna be a good combo.”

Brooke let a small silence hang in the air as Vanessa stared out of the steamed-up window and cupped her mug with two hands. “I was screamin’ at teachers in class, swearin’ at ‘em, straight-up threw a book at some bitch’s head once. To be fair, she deserved it, ‘cuz she started sayin’ I would be a total failure in life an’ have no job an’ no prospects. And I mean, I am, but you don’t say that to a fifteen year old kid, right? I don’t know…I regret a lot of the shit I did, but I don’t regret that.”

Brooke said nothing, instead just choosing to listen to all Vanessa wanted to vent to her. “Of course, ‘cuz I started gettin’ mouthy in class I started gettin’ the attention of the other mouthy girls. They didn’t like me…fuck knows why, but they didn’t. I got in a bunch of fights…I mean, some people would prolly say they bullied me, but I gave as good as I got, you know? Anyway, got to sixteen an’ they expelled me. And there was no legal requirement for me to go back to school, so I never did. My Mum, shit, I never saw her so mad before. She told me the moment I turned eighteen I was out on my ass, an’ she held that up. I was all cocky, thinkin’ I could just charm myself into a job. But here I am. Five years later an’ I’m in a council flat livin’ off the most basic fuckin’ government handout and the last of the savings my Mum put aside for me.”

Brooke shook her head. “Fuck, Vanessa, I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”

“Hey, it’s just my life! That’s my lot, girl, an’ I’m stuck with it. But hopefully today’s my lucky day,” Vanessa smiled tightly, then frowned. “Fuck, Brooke, I’m kinda nervous.”

Brooke was hit with an unbearable urge to reach out and take Vanessa’s hand. She didn’t. “That’s natural. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it, they’ll love you!”

Vanessa smiled bashfully again, which made Brooke feel like melting butter. Unable to help herself, she added, “You could definitely charm yourself into a job.”

Brooke pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as Vanessa let out a laugh. “You’re awful, Jesus Christ! Stop distractin’ me, I need to be focused.”

“How am I distracting you!” Brooke exclaimed, affronted. Vanessa gazed at her with a look in her eye that Brooke couldn’t decipher, then shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she laughed softly. Then her gaze snapped to the clock on the wall. “Damn, I need to hurry. That’d be my luck if I missed my fuckin’ train. Shit, sorry for offloading my fuckin’ life story onto you.”

“Don’t worry. I kinda did the same to you in the supermarket, so now we’re even. You have my full permission to launch into deep chat any time you see me,” Brooke smiled, regretting the fact that Vanessa had to leave. As she grabbed her bag, Vanessa’s face turned wistful. Pausing, she pulled out her phone.

“Y’know, we should do this again some time. Before you have to go back to work. I know I’m a shit therapist, but you still don’t need to pay me anythin’ if you wanna talk. I mean, maybe you can get the coffee next time. Since you actually earn a fuckin’ wage.”

Brooke laughed, her heart fluttering as Vanessa held out her phone with a blank contact on the screen. Brooke punched in her number then, pausing for only a second, she wrote her name as “Brooke x”. Her heart held its breath as Vanessa took the phone back, cast a glance over it, and smiled ever so slightly.

“Cool. Well, I’ll text you next time I’m free, and I’ll let you know how I do today. But it was so good to see you, girl. As always,” Vanessa smiled, leaning down and giving Brooke a hug. Her clothes smelt of washing powder and her hair had that freshly-shampooed scent, and the two combined made Brooke not want to let go. Vanessa made that decision for her, pulling away and waving a goodbye as she hurried out of the shop.

As Brooke watched her red-pinafored silhouette make its way to the train station, she found herself sitting her phone on the coffee table screen-up, an unexpected optimism and hope nestling itself in her heart, and her mind filled with the girl who had been dealt shit cards in life but who’d still tapped her card against the reader to pay for Brooke’s drink as if it was nothing.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #angst #lesbian au #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #from under liquid glass #ortega

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strictlyfortheculture · 4 years

Text

MY TAKE: 1,300 WORDS ON JAY ELECTRONICA’s ‘A WRITTEN TESTIMONY’

After 11 years of anticipation, Jay Electronica finally released an official study album, A Written Testimony featuring Jay-Z who was playing the role Ghostface Killah did for Raekwon on Only Built 4 Cuban Linx.

Jay-Z was the co-star; the Scottie Pippen to Michael Jordan; the one who complimented the headliner, assisting him in a win, and this album most certainly was a win.

Now I make the point of listing Jay-Z as a co-pilot in this audio journey because many in the Internet realm want to say Jay-Z "lyrically murdered" Electronica on his own shit. Ironically, something Nas claimed happened to Jay Z on the Renegade song years ago.

That didn't happen. Jay-Z did what he was supposed to do, he collaborated with an emcee who captured his ear and mind back in 2010.

This was not Watch The Throne, Part II. To say such a thing is to disrespect what Jay-Z and Kanye West created in 2011. A Written Testimony was the overdue, formal introduction to the rap world Hip-hop's resident Willy Wonka - Jay Elect - the man who creates endless wonders while staying aloof. Jay Electronica is a real-life James Bond, a man who shook the Hip Hop world when he released the game-changing "Exhibit C", dated and fathered a child with Erykah Badu, sparked a bidding war between Puff Daddy and Sean Carter based on the strength of a couple singles, the man who disappeared for years, and was romantically linked to an heiress from the Rothschild family.

YEAH, this man is a legend.

But those exploits coupled with several loose singles and two mixtapes were not enough to satisfy the appetite of hungry Hip Hop listeners, eager to devour the sounds of a man from New Orleans, Louisiana who is, lyrically, more like Rakim Allah than Soulja Slim ... and still, Jay Elect pay homage to his NO influences throughout the album (see "Ghost of Soulja Slim", in particular). How can a Southern emcee come on the scene without having a stereotypical sound of a New Orleans rapper? He doesn't sound like Master P nor does he follow the path of Lil Wayne. No. Jay Elect made his trail unique; distancing himself from the pack.

After 10 years of waiting, Jay Electronica announced his album WOULD be released in Match 2020. Now a lot has changed since 2010 when the original album was meant to come, and during that time tastes change and even the most loyal fans lost faith that it would happen.

Was this real? Was Jay Electronica gonna drop or was this another instance where an artist over-promised and under-delivered?

Finally, Friday the 13th, March 2020 A Written Testimony was released and the internet was flooded with the full gamut of emotions ranging from exhilaration to disappointed (can't please the internet critics or Joe Budden) to a renewed faith in the man of legendary reputation.

Yes, people were pleased to hear that Jay-Z is still one of the best in the game, today, but for me, I was delighted to hear Jay Electronica slay the sound-waves. This 10 track album not only reinforced my appreciation for Jay Electronica; it made me want to study his lyrics; dissect these testaments to its very root.

The introductions to (1) The Overwhelming Event and (2) Ghost oF Soulja Slim featuring sound bytes of Louis Farrakhan speaking to the masses about the Black people in America being real children of Israel; the recipients of God's promise to bless the descendants of Abraham caused dissent from Hip Hop critics and listeners alike who felt the Nation of Islam leader's alleged anti-Semitic comments have no place in a rap album. Those people forget that Jay Electronica is a member of the Nation of Islam.

WRITER'S NOTE: All of those critics are silent when rappers say of Nigga or calling Black women "bitch" and "ho". Where are they during those moments of controversy? Hmmm. This is a conversation for another time.

Controversy aside, the lyrical wordplay on display should have silenced any nonbeliever.

(2) Ghost of Souljah Slim starts off the album right with both men trading verses, and more importantly Electronica showing that he can hold his own with Sean Carter.

(3)The Blinding has Jay Electronica talking about the hesitancy to release his music to an audience that will undoubtedly pick apart his work rather than enjoy it for what it is. (4) Neverending Story is where Jay Elect laces an Alchemist beat with the tale of his come-up from humble beginnings and hostile surrounding to still being chosen by God; bestowed with divine greatness.

(5) Shiny Suit Theory showcases Elect rhymes over a self-produced song proclaiming his forthcoming rise in the world of rap.

(6) Universal Soldier has both men share tales of their rise from hardship and criminal lifestyle to gaining knowledge of self and ultimately overcoming the hurdles placed before them

(7) Flux Capacitor has Jay Elect speaking on a preordained calling upon him to bring superior lyricism and teachings to the world while representing New Orleans.

(8) Fruits Of The Spirits is a song detailing the long wait for this debut album, Electronica lets the listener know that it was all part of his master plan for just like Thanos (from the Marvel Comics), he can defeat any competition with the snap of his fingers.

(9) Ezekiel's Wheel ties into the Biblical story of Ezekiel, the warrior who was placed by God to be the prophet over Israel, Jay Electronica declares himself to be a prophet to the children of Israel, whom Farrakhan, in the album intro stated were the Black people in America.

(10) A.P.I.D.T.A. (All Praise Is Due To Allah) is my personal favourite is a song dealing with the loss of loved ones. According to reports, this song was written on the same night Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna Bryant died in a tragic helicopter crash in February 2020. Wow.

On this sombre track, Jay Electronica offers lamentations over the loss of his beloved Mother, speaking of how her departure from this physical form has cut him to his soul, rendering his spirit wounded.

Eyes fiery, cry tears to my diary Sometimes a Xanny bar can't help you fight back the anxiety I go to my Lord quietly, teardrops on our faces Teardrops on my face, it's like teardrops become waterfalls by the time they reach my laces My eyelids is like levees but my tear ducts is like glaciers As I contemplate creation, the salt that heals my wounds pour out my eyes just like libations I can't stop my mind from racing, I got numbers on my phone Pictures on my phone The day my mama died, I scrolled her texts all day long The physical returns but the connection still stay strong

Jay Elect later rhymes,

Sleep well The last time that I kissed you, you felt cold but you looked peaceful I read our message thread when I get low and need a refill

All controversy and delay aside, Jay Electronica delivered a debut album that rivals that of your favourite MCs. FUCK Joe Budden and anybody who disagrees. I'm still waiting on Joe to release one record as meaningful as Elect's worst. Anyway, I digress.

In an era where the word Classic has lost its meaning thanks to the overuse of fans and critics alike, I won't give it that distinction, at this time. I do, however, feel this album will go down as one of the more significant releases of the last 10 years. This is evidence of substance over style. No commercials tracks. No filler. Just two talented men delivering lyrical food to a hungry audience in need of manna from heaven rather than the pursuit of bread ($$$).

And man cannot live on bread alone. Peace God. Holler at me

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pallasperilous · 5 years

Text

Morning Glory

Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1795, complete Pairing: Dean/Castiel Tags: Temporarily Human Castiel, Canon universe, anxiety, insomnia, sleep disorders, angel vessels, references to the Empty, references to alcohol abuse AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163709 Prompt: Written as a lil clapback to the fanon trope that Human!Castiel Is Not A Morning Person. (For @cr-noble-writes and @chuckwinchester)

Dean couldn’t really explain why he’d assumed Cas would suck at mornings. Maybe the 24/7 bedhead and the “it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere” shadow; maybe the fact he never really seemed convinced that “taking a shower” and “eating breakfast” weren’t just some elaborate long con they’ve been pulling on him for the last half a goddamn decade. Maybe just the way he veers into grouchy asshole territory whenever the world takes a dump on his shoes, which is kind of the definition of mornings.

Whatever: Cas just seems like the kind of guy who’d need forty minutes of silence and three cups of coffee before he’d count as human.

Hey, well, joke’s on Dean, ‘cuz the guy definitely (currently) counts as human, and he’s awake at five fucking thirty in the morning, every morning, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed and talking a mile a minute. A mile a second. He’s breaking the sound barrier and exerting serious G-forces.

Dean would tear his own face off if he thought it’d make the dude shut up until the Pop-Tarts came up. Instead he just kinda lets the Cas Chatter wash over him, like really phlegmy birdsong, or the world’s weirdest morning chit chat show.

Cas has at least taught himself to make coffee –– apparently all on his own, since Sam isn’t taking credit for it, and Sam loves taking credit for shit. It’s not the worst coffee, either. I mean, it’s bad coffee, nobody here is drinking Good Coffee, it’s a weapon, not an experience –– but it’s not watery or full of grounds or made with orange juice or some other weird dumbass goof.

Sam’s take is that maybe Jimmy Novak was a Morning Person and now that Cas isn’t using the guy’s body as a kind of celestial thermos, some of the dude’s original behaviors or genetics or whatever are sort of…coming back online, reasserting themselves. “Like the burger thing,” Sam says, shrugging.

“Well, that’s ten kinds of fucked up,” Dean answers, but then the goddamn ghoul turns out to be a whole Leave It To Beaver nuclear ghoul family and the conversation gets extremely tabled.

There’s a morning awhile after where Dean wakes up still drunk and can’t handle the thought of two more hours riding the motel bed over the rolling seas of FuckUpistan, so he gets up and showers off the townie bar fug as best he can without waking Sam – only Sam, because it’s dawn and so Cas is already up and probably singing Disney princess songs to the seagulls haunting the trashcans in the parking lot.

Dean reaches to scoop his keys and does a bleary double take when they’re not on the nightstand. He takes a moment to freak out at the possibility of Cas doing his clutch-smiting routine on the Impala, but something twigs and he peels open the door and yep, the car’s still in the lot, outlined in scribbly motel neon and highway dawn pink. There’s a faint warble of bass rolling off it in time tooooo…Dean’s gonna say Hole in the Sky? So he kinda queases his way over the lumpy asphalt and knuckles on the driver side window and Cas jumps a fucking foot, or he would if he weren’t wearing the goddamn lap belt in a perfectly stationary car.

Dean thumbs at the other side and Cas shakes himself off enough to lean over and pop it for him. Dean slides in and the car smells like three hour-old motel check-in desk coffee – his stomach immediately tries to file a lawsuit but the sanctity of the leather interior wins over his bodily need to evacuate poisons every time. Cas’s hands are back on the steering wheel, gripping it at 10 and 2 like a good boy but with his knuckles the color of popcorn, an abused-looking paper cup empty on the seat besides him, and Sabbath is still living on the profits of pride at top volume. Dean rolls it down to conversational levels so he doesn’t have to scream when he says “What’s the story, morning glory?”

Reminder: Dean is definitely still drunk.

Thankfully Cas doesn’t really know from Oasis or Sunday morning BJs so Dean just gets two blue eyeballs full of blank terror.

Dean tries again, picks the cup up off the seat. There’s a rind of dried coffee juice inside. “What’s up? Sunrise three minutes off? Songbirds outta order? Thought you’d be out here braiding your hair and frolicking in the dew or some shit.”

Cas blinks, which is something he’s been doing a lot more lately and frankly is a weird look for him. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “I haven’t done any of those things this morning.” He frowns, which is a little better. “Or any morning, to my knowledge.”

“So, what then? Bad dreams?”

Cas scrunches his face up in his left hand, pulls it back through his already frankly insane hair, sighs out a gust of Eau de Flopsweat. “No. I didn’t dream at all.”

“Congrats.”

Cas goggles back at him. “As much as I dislike dreaming as a…subject, instead of an observer. I find its absence.” He hesitates. “Much worse.”

Dean rubs his eyes because this has that angsty metaphysical angel pong to it and that’s really more of a Sam Specialty. “How’s it worse? I drink for those nights, man. It’s a few hours off of. You know.” He gestures at The Universe, Generally. “All this shit.”

Cas scoffs and leans back in the seat, although he doesn’t release the wheel from the iron grip. “Dean, in almost four billion years of existence –”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters, because this is the traditional overture to an absolute diarrhea of angelsplaining.

Cas ignores him, or maybe Sabbath covers his tracks – “I have never been rendered…unconscious.”

Dean gives him a look, because bullshit. “C’mon. I’ve seen you knocked out before. Down for the count.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve been forced to cede control over my vessel. I’ve withdrawn into it to preserve myelf. I’ve experienced a fugue state, or been made to retroactively forget details of my experience. But I have never.” He breathes in through his nose, the edges of his nostrils going white to match his knuckles. “I’ve never been insensate and unaware at the same time.”

Some asshat pulling his rig out of the diner across the way opens up his jake brake and Cas flinches at the crack.

“Huh,” is about what Dean’s got to serve up. “You worried somebody’s gonna snuff you while you’re down? We can take shifts when we’re on the road, if that’s what’s freakin’ you out.”

Another shake of the head. “Anyone truly invested in eliminating me specifically in this…state would be too powerful or competent to be defended against through normal means. Angels can be killed, Dean. My experience of a mortal death would be – ” he cuts himself off. “Less worrisome than the alternative, in many ways.”

“Cool, so, being murdered in your sleep, not a concern.”

“I’m more concerned,” Cas huffs, “that I am unable to defend you.” His forehead droops down towards the steering wheel, like a houseplant somebody forgot to water before a Disneyland vacation.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Dean says.

“I am not,” Cas answers, “fucking kidding you.”

Dean snorts. “I made it thirty years without your feathery ass watching over me. Now you’ve just got a normal-ass…ass, you think I’m suddenly shaking in my boots? C’mon, man.”

Cas shrugs, which looks even weirder on him than the blinking.

Dean twiddles the paper cup, rolls it between his palms. “You haven’t been, like, watching me and Sam sleep, have you? Because you know I can stand that Twilight shit.”

“No,” Cas says, in a tone of infinite offense, like Dean has suggested he sleeps in girls underwear or something. “But, Dean. The experience of sleep. Dreamless sleep. It’s not. It’s not dissimilar to what we are told to expect, as angels, after death.”

(The music slides over into Symptom of the Universe and Dean desperately wishes he’d left something peppier in the deck when they pulled in last night.)

“Only I’m given to understand that we are at least…in company with each other. Though silent and unaware. We share the same sleep. In a way it’s a return to our origin as an undifferentiated host. But in human sleep.” He looks over at Dean, face slack. “You’re alone. Prisoner in a corporeal cell. Did you know,” he goes on, practically stepping on himself, warming up the verbal jet engines, “that some individuals experience a phenomenon where, upon waking, they suffer a period of total bodily paralysis?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah. Sounds shitty.”

Cas nods. “Jimmy experienced it semi-regularly.” Then he looks out and up, squints at the motel sign. Maybe he needs glasses.

“So you inherited it, huh?” Dean says, softly. Cas doesn’t respond. “So, sleeping’s shit. And waking up’s shit.”

Cas’s squint turns into a wince. “In the Bunker, I’ll get up and make coffee.”

Dean waggles the mutilated cup. “Yeah, noticed that. Thinking of buying stock in Folger’s.”

“I’ll visit the archives, or. Write letters.” (Who the fuck is he writing letters to, Dean idly wonders? Dear Angel Abby?) “Go up to the roof to,” he glances at Dean, anticipating the eyeroll, “watch the dawn. On the road, it’s…more difficult to keep myself occupied. Keep my mind off of the fact that I can no longer hear the rest of the host. That I am,” he stretches his palms out over the wheel, tenses his clenched fingers, “quite nearly useless,”

“Cas,” Dean says, even more softly.

“And that, in a mere matter of hours,” Castiel closes his eyes, or the eyes he is currently doing business under. “The cycle will repeat.”

“Cas,” Dean says. And he reaches out what he suspects is the memory of Mom’s hand and sets his palm on the back of the guy’s neck, against the damp skin and unwashed hair. The muscles there relax but the blue eyes stay closed and Dean drops the cup on the floor and sets the other hand that’s just his on the side of Cas’s face, and slowly sweeps the side of his thumb over the sandpaper jaw and waxy cheekbone.

And he pulls Cas’s head towards him, then down against his own shoulder and chest. Cas’s hands peel off the steering wheel and drift to lie, palms open, up, across their undistinguished assortment of kneecaps and thighs.

After awhile, a few more tracks in the tape, Cas’s breathing goes smoothe and deep. Dean feels eyelashes flicker against his collarbone – guy’s already dreaming.

Dean watches the dawn, reflected on motel windows.

#spn fanfic #deancas #castiel is not a morning person #pallasperilous fic #dean winchester #human!cas

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hopeishappinessff · 7 years

Text

Chapter 18

We cruised along the beautifully lit streets of Midtown Richmond to the soothing tune of Wale’s Best Night Ever. With much persuasion, Chris was finally able to coax me into joining him for a ride to see whatever it was he was determined to show me. I gazed out of the passenger window into the onyx night and became captivated by the exquisite high rise buildings that lined the roads of the busy metropolitan area. A short while later, we pulled into a familiar apartment complex and I watched in awe as he drove skillfully toward a security gate. He reached up toward his visor and it was at that moment that I finally noticed the small remote device he’d pressed, prompting the gate to slide open.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as I eyed the road ahead. He drove further along the street of the parking lot before swinging the truck into an empty space a few buildings down. Shutting off the ignition, he rested his head back against the headrest and released a deep sigh “I got it.” “You got what?” I asked, facing him with brows twisted with confusion. He nodded toward the building and glanced over at me “The apartment… I got it.” My eyes were wide with shock and my mouth flew open as I stared at him “You did… when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He chuckled tenderly and unbuckled his seatbelt “The other day, Cassandra called and told me that everything was actually approved the day after I submitted my application. So, we set a move in date and everything.” I stared down at the small silver key resting in the palm of his open hand then glanced back at him eagerly “Well let’s go see it!” With a smirk, he nodded and pushed his door open “Yeah… come on.”

We both climbed from the confines of his truck and I trailed closely behind as he headed down the pathway and into a wide, clean hall toward the elevator to reach his new third floor apartment. Once we reached the appropriate floor, he walked confidently down the hall, passing a few doors along the way before stopping about halfway down. He stuck the key into the lock and pushed the door open then took a step into the doorway, easing off to one side and allowing me entry behind him. I was immediately taken aback by the huge space illuminated by the moonlight flooding into the room. The first thing I noticed... the two walls decorated with nothing but floor to ceiling windows. I ventured closer to them to take in the view and gasped at the sight of the twinkling lights of the city’s skyline.

“Is this the same one that we saw?” I asked as I twirled around to face him, excitement quickly overwhelming me. He leaned against one of the walls near the door and stared in my direction with a smirk and his hands tucked into the depths of his pants pockets “Nah… this one is different. I actually thought I was gonna get that one, but this is a slightly different floorplan.” “This one’s bigger isn’t it?” I asked. “Yep… let’s go look around.” He stated, turning abruptly and heading down the hall toward the back of the apartment.

I moved along behind him, occasionally getting distracted by the most minor of details like the way the moonlight reflected off the door handles causing them to glisten brightly. Along the journey down the main hall of the apartment, Chris and I separated and I soon found myself standing in a large empty space that was obviously his bedroom. “Hey Charlie, come look.” I shouted. “What’s up?” He said, eventually rounding the corner into the room. “This is your bedroom… it’s huge!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to one of the doors in the room, “And here’s the bathroom. Pretty sweet.” I followed the sound of his voice and found myself standing in the center of an ideal bachelor restroom. Even with the lack of lighting, I could make out the glistening stark white quartzite countertop. The dark wood of the cabinets under the sink contrasted the brilliance of the quartzite on the counters and the beautiful light beige of the large tiles on the floor. I was completely astonished by the size and depth of both the oversized garden tub as well as the floor to ceiling glass walk in shower.

“Chris, this is absolutely stunning,” I said, running the tips of my fingers delicately over the counter, “Where did you get the money for all of this?” With a shrug of his shoulders, he smirked and moved over to the shower to tinker with the door handle “I do what I do.” I didn’t dwell on his response as my excitement for his fabulous new home was the only thing I could focus on. “When are you moving in?” I asked. “I would like to start moving some shit in after school tomorrow, but if not my actual move in date is this weekend.”

“Oh okay. Did you tell Gabby that you guys got a new place?” I asked. “Nah,” He paused as he ran a hand over the back of his neck, “Guess I’ll tell her tomorrow.” He zipped his lips and went silent after that and I was left standing there, pondering the fact that he’d apparently shared his good news with me well before he informed Gabby. “Well if I had a bed over here already, we could just crash over here, but since I don’t… you ready to go?” He asked with a weary yawn. I could sense his exhaustion so with a nod, I moved to follow him out of the restroom and into the living area. I quickly scanned my eyes over the movie screen windows, still in absolute shock by the magnificence of the scenery, and soon we were well on our way out into the hall and down the elevator.

The ride back to our neighborhood was filled with a comfortable silence until Chris released a sigh and leaned his head back against his headrest “Are you gonna come stay with me sometimes?” “Why would I do that?” I asked, staring at his profile blankly. “Because, I don’t know… I might get lonely or something.” He attempted to reason. “And how exactly would you get lonely if Gabby will be there with you? That doesn’t make much sense to me.” I said. “Yeah but…” He paused momentarily then glanced at me, “You should still come over.” With a roll of my eyes I swiftly turned to glare out of the window, suddenly irritated by his topic of choice.

A few minutes passed before he released yet another sigh and cleared his throat “What’s up with that Trey nigga?” “Nothing’s up with him.” I muttered with no desire to engage in that particular discussion. “Well… what was he calling you for?” He probed. “Can people not call me anymore Chris? I guess I have a phone just so no one can call me now.” I fussed, whipping my head around to face him. “Nah, I’m not saying that. I’m just asking why he was calling you, that’s all.” He said.

“Well why are you so worried about him calling me? Maybe he just wanted to talk or something, I don’t know.” I said, now slouching down in my seat with my arms crossed. “You know what, I remember dude saying something about a date. You going on a date with him?” He further interrogated. “Chris, I don’t know. So what if I am… what would you do if I said ‘Yes Chris, I’m going on a date with Trey this weekend?’” I asked with sarcasm oozing from every inch of my words.

He went quiet momentarily before shrugging his shoulders “I mean are you sure you just wanna go out with dude like that? You don’t even know him… why would you go out with him and you don’t even know him?” I stared at him in disbelief as I shook my head “How else would I get to know him if I don't go with him?” “I don’t know… over the phone.” He said. “You told him to never call me again, remember. He’s probably not gonna call me anymore because he thinks I associate with crazy, angry people like you.” “Well if he was a real nigga, he wouldn’t let shit I say stop him from calling you back. If he was really as into you as he trynna portray, he’d be blowing your shit up right now.” He said and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his somberness.

“Okay Chris,” I said, trying to contain my laughter, “So you’re saying if Trey calls me back, we should still talk and possibly one day even date?” I asked amusedly. Cutting his eyes in my direction, he quickly redirected his gaze toward the road and tightened his grip on the wheel “Why would you need to date? Why can’t you just talk and be friends?” “Well I mean, that’s what happens when most men and women talk, well if they’re interested in each other anyway… they eventually date. You know… like you and your girlfriend.” I explained with a smirk. I peered on as his face slowly morphed into a light rose tint and wondered exactly what part of this conversation was upsetting him. Rather than retorting with one of his witty comments, he remained silent and I was quite taken aback that I’d managed to render him speechless.

“That’s different,” He finally mumbled, “There’s a difference between what I do with Gabby and what everyone else does in their relationships. There’s only one thing keeping me and that girl together. I mean after the lil stunt she pulled at Mike’s party, I was prepared to put a fuckin restraining order on her ass just so she wouldn’t even look at me.” He paused for a moment and laughed mockingly as he shook his head, “Shit Hope, you don’t know how many times a day I contemplate just ending this shit with her, but I know for this kid’s sake I can’t do that. I can’t… it’s not fair for a child to be brought into this world without both of their parents. It’s not fair for us to somehow get caught up in a moment where a child could even be conceived and nine months later one of us decides to just turn our back and walk away. That shit ain’t fair, but… ” His voice trailed off and I continued to watch him as his brows furrowed frustratingly, “I’m so scared Hope.”

He’d managed to leave me nearly flabbergasted as he poured his inner feelings out to me and I could almost barely bring myself to respond “Why?” “I don’t wanna be sitting up in a delivery room looking like a fool holding this baby… claiming it as mine, and…” His voice trailed off once more as he bit into his bottom lip and proceeded to remain quiet. I stared at him in utter disbelief. For the first time since he’d told me about Gabby’s pregnancy, I could see right through all his confidence and strength. That self-assured and courageous demeanor was beginning to fade… and I could see clearer than ever that he was genuinely afraid.

I awoke the following morning, searching for Chris who’d decided to sleep over the night before. In my weary state I extended my hand along the right side of the bed only to feel the chill of the sheets against my skin. I squinted my eyes toward the empty space and wondered if perhaps Chris had already left while I slept.

Nearly twenty minutes later, I was dressed in a sundress with my hair styled up into a curly bun and I was ready to go. I ambled out of my room with my book bag in tow and downstairs toward the kitchen only to be surprised by the sight of Chris perched merrily at the table while my aunt stood in front of the stove. I walked in and placed my belongings down by the door then moved toward my aunt to place a warm kiss on her cheek “Morning Auntie.”

“Morning baby. Did you sleep well last night?” She asked. “Yes ma’am… how was work?” I asked as I made my way over to the table. She playfully rolled her eyes and released a sigh “Oh Lord girl, your Auntie had a long night. Those people at that hospital are gonna drive me crazy!” I giggled and turned to look at Chris who’d been watching me since I entered the kitchen “What?” “I don’t get no morning kiss?” He asked with a smirk.

“Uh-oh, is somebody getting jealous over there?” My aunt asked with humor in her tone as she made her way over to the table with two plates in her hands. “Yes ma’am I am… did you see how she just waltzed in here and didn’t even acknowledge me? I think that’s quite rude.” He fussed as he continued to stare at me. “I’m sorry Christopher… good morning and how are you?” I asked as I grinned exaggeratedly at him. “I’m fine, thank you.” He replied, jamming a piece of bacon in his mouth the moment his plate was on the table in front of him.

Finally taking her seat at the table with her own plate, my aunt reached for her glass of orange juice with a hearty chuckle “Ya’ll are too much, I swear,” She started just before taking a sip of her juice and placing her glass back on its coaster, “So Chris, how’ve you been sweetheart? Is everything going okay with you?” “Oh… yes ma’am. I’m good. Everything has been going okay, I guess.” He said, eyeing his plate as he spoke. “And how is Gabby and the baby?” She probed. “Gabby’s doing fine… and so is the baby. They’re both doing pretty good.”

I eyed him as he continued to stare at his plate as though the inanimate object were conversing with him. The thought of his new apartment suddenly ran through my mind and I instinctively nudged him under the table. I mouthed ‘the apartment’ to him and waited for him to inform my aunt of his exciting new accomplishment. “Oh uh… I don’t know if Sy told you but, I um… I just found a new place.” He said, finally glancing up at her.

She paused, lowering her fork full of scrambled eggs back onto her plate “What type of place Chris?” “An apartment,” He chuckled softly, “I found an apartment in the midtown area.” “Oh, honey… Lord, one of my babies is growing up!” She exclaimed as she reached across the table to pinch his cheek causing us both to laugh. “Honestly… I am very proud of you young man. The way that you’re stepping forward and taking your responsibilities by the reigns with such positivity and not a single complaint… I truly admire that Chris. I know you probably get tired of hearing me say this boy, but you are such an intelligent young man. I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to watch you grow into the person you are today.”

With a slight nod of his head, he smiled and lowered his gaze back to his plate with now noticeably blushing cheeks “Thank you Ms. Maddie.” She stared at him for a moment with a warm smile “Now… you two hurry up and eat up before ya’ll are late to school.” She fussed. We continued to eat and converse with my aunt before finally clearing our places at the table and heading off to school in separate vehicles.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

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