wellownedbkup: (GTFO)
Something that has always puzzled me all my life is why, when I am in special need of help, the good deed is usually done by somebody on whom I have no claim. ~William Feather


talk about being in need of special help... ugh.

ok, i've been whining about this on twitter ALL FREAKING DAY so why not add it to my journal too!?!?

the background )

cut to 5 pm TUESDAY. "can you send me a ppt version instead of a pptx version? i haven't updated to office 07, but i've finished the first part of what i'm talking about." great. "and those things you researched aren't part of the code; they're tangential. you would've known this if you hadn't just looked at wikipedia. see, look at this french wikipedia link for proof that i'm right. just redo your research and send me what you've got so i can check the spelling and everything before we present." (note, not his actual words, but the gist is the same)

here's where i freak the fuck out... )

so you can see i'm understandably upset. my presentation's in 12 hours or so. and i still don't have a finished product. only two good things have happened at all this week, only one of which i had a hand in. i got a 100 on my first oral presentation (poetry recitation in french) on monday because an old professor taught me how to do so for a competition in middle school.

the other thing was some facebook backup by a friend of my brother's. i was getting lectured on my faith vs. homeschooling (if i truly believed we were living in the time of the end, then why would i say that homeschooling was a bad thing?), and dude backed me up by reminding the lecturer that our timetable is not Jah's, so we have to prepare for all eventualities. including one where this girl's daughter graduates high school and has to enter the workforce. she'll have to face faith issues eventually, so public school may be her best option. better now than later, right??

anyway. dude was awesome on backing me up... and i can't even claim him as my own.
wellownedbkup: (acklesmath)
Dinner is nothing like what he’s come to expect. They're sitting in the back corner of Chez Paul, secluded and private. Jess is actually eating a meal, unlike most women he's had out to dinner. And they're talking. Which is both a relief and scarier than he’s used to. Jensen can’t believe his luck and tries not to jinx it. If he keeps her talking, he’s sure that he’ll finally relax and stop assuming that she’s a crazed fan waiting to happen.

Not that she isn’t one of his fans. She snorts at his Days of Our Lives work and says she only got introduced to him through Dark Angel. On the one hand, that’s a little relief. It’s not that he’s not fond of Eric Brady as a character. He’s just grown beyond that… moment in his life. On the other hand, he’s not sure he likes being identified by the twin and evil twin role he had on Dark Angel.

She waves off his protests with her fork, gesturing emptily at the air. “Everyone has the evil twin thing going on. It’s mandatory on every show so that the actor can show his range.”
wellownedbkup: (Default)
title: questions of faith
summary: He has doubts that keep him tied up inside over his father's orders... and his father's orders.
notes/warnings: a coda to 4.07, after watching two scenes with dean and castiel interacting.

without faith, it is impossible to please him well )
wellownedbkup: (Default)
untitled vignette
sam/dean, S3 of Supernatural
forgive the mismatched capitalization.



in the year of dean's dying, they spend a month in the summer on a job. it's really nothing-- someone who'd heard of them via a friend of a friend, someone who was willing to pay them to stay a month and clear out anything that could be in the house. within 48 hours, they've got the house as bear-proof as possible. well, as supernatural-proof as they can manage.

but the money's good and they could use the break. sam hasn't been the same since the trickster and killing the crossroads demon-- a little darker and a hell of a lot more closed off. he has to remember to bring himself back from the edge, and with every day bringing them a step closer to the end with no answers, it's harder and harder to do.

in the year of dean's dying, life finds them living as normally as they ever could. dean's propped back with a beer in one hand and Busty Asian Beauties in the other, asleep on the patio in the light of the sunset. sam's taking their washing off the line, something he hasn't done since Jess wanted all their laundry to smell of fresh air and light.

he's down to the last pair of jeans and he pauses, hands rubbing lightly at the roughened denim, still stiff from newness. he hasn't thought about jess in ages, he's sure. and he wonders if it's fitting that he thinks of her now when he's losing his brother too, when he's living a life that they'd all wanted, albeit only temporarily.

in the year of dean's dying, sam still hasn't found any answers.
wellownedbkup: (nix cold)
the sun's just rising through the trees at the end of the streete where civilization turns into farmland and fallow when Daniel climbs into his car and drives back to his house. Sophie watches long after he's turned the corner, unseeing eyes being blinded by the rising sun. there's nothing quite like what she feels like right now. no words to describe the cross between shock, love, nostalgia and hope that combines with a bubbling fear in her gut.

in retrospect, she's always been far too talky after drinking cider.

she stretches her hand, surprised to see it so tightly gripping the door jamb. even she can't follow her thoughts. at the time she thinks about how he's a dream come true, she thinks about how long 5 years really is. she thinks about how she's only just gotten used to being by herself, so far distant.

he loves her. she struggles to breathe and shuts the door against the rising sun. she closes her eyes and makes her way to her bed, not even stopping to undress, making her way by touch and stumble. she'll sleep on it.
wellownedbkup: (Default)
We are the people our parents warned us about. ~ Jimmy Buffett

they spend the night talking on the steps leading up from her door. the lights are still off from when she left that morning and all they've got is a shaft of street lights shining through the windows at the door.

it's been two years and she still doesn't quite know how she ought to act around him. the last time they were together even briefly had been a september long past, a weekend with excess company. and no one could do anything more than sidle up to the other and link arms subtly. but in the time between, there've been letters and emails, instant messages and the occasional phone call that has them knowing everything there is to know.

they spend the night talking on the stairs leading up to the rest of her rented flat. she always catches sight of him framed by doorways, and she's not surprised that he tells her he loves her here, framed by the door. what is surprising instead is how she doesn't tell him the same immediately. she questions him about it, and doesn't trust in him. she feels like she's had everything broken away from her before, taken away and torn down so many times that to have someone car for her now feels like the air after a storm-- thick and charged with something she can't place.

and when the sun rises and he's proven to her how much he loves her, it's not surprising that he kisses her in the doorway before going home.
wellownedbkup: (backbone?)
Title: the glory of god's sons
Author: wellowned
Summary: How Dean gets his calling to do God's work.
Notes/Warnings: Consider this as how Dean comes to his calling for his task.

Castiel: Dean's savior. The one who gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition. )
wellownedbkup: (thefragile love)
he presses kisses to her cherry lip glossed lips, dragging the flavor into his mouth with every touch. it's been a long couple of months, what with all the planning they've had to do up to this point for the wedding. and there's nothing he would like more than to just have it over with, but there's still so much left to be done that he's just giving himself this small respite before he gets back on track.

and what a respite it is. everyone's playing laser tag, which they both agreed was well worth it. two games in a three game streak they'd played hard, endorphins spiraling sinuously with every running step. she's radiant, happier here than he's seen her since he proposed. here, amongst her friends, she's happy. it's the third game and he can't help himself. he backs her into a darkened corner, not safe from the shots of the other players, but quiet enough. he can't help himself; he has to kiss her, taste her smile from the inside.

she has one hand against his chest, where his heart is throbbing against her palm, and one hand at the back of his neck, fingertips just grazing his hair. they're pressed from lip to hip against the wall and it's no luxurious couch or bed but he's never felt more comfortable or more solidly grounded than here with her.

they barely notice the lights coming up, though the catcalls filter through. they pull away from each other with a blush as she hears one of her 'brothers' call out to them. "hey, daniel! soph's not that kinda girl. save it for next week!"
wellownedbkup: (Default)
pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living---Mother Jones

her dice are like a rosary, decisions made on a roll on the nearest hard surface. bone white, they scratch along sand-blasted fingertips with a series of dots to decide. One dot means wait.

and so she does, and prays for her brothers who are training right now to move in should she make a mistake. of all the things she wants, she wants nothing more than for her brothers to never see this side of their lives. she's seen it enough in the years between her capture and now. they still think they train as gladiators, as if their skills will never be put to use.

her dice are like a rosary, and they fall between two dots and three. they fall between kill and leave.

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