#made this to take the edge off my Impending Doom (driving test)

[rowrowronnie]

theyre literally the besties ever

[ccinagalaxyfaraway]

Oh my gosh I can't stop thinking about that chapter in "i take from you everything you allow" where Wolffe asks Plo if he's got a light for his cigarette and Plo just lights it with freaking force lightning. Could you do write a sequel to that or an extension of that scene? It's one of my favorite chapters in that fic

So that took a little longer than expected, but at last:

cigarettes and cilantro

from [ lit ]

1. 

Jedi die as easily as anyone else. 

The thought echoes in Wolffe’s mind. Jedi are not infallible. Shoot one, and he will fall over dead just like a trooper. There were so many bodies. He’d heard Generals Windu and Yoda speaking. One hundred eighty dead on the sands - and if they died like men, what else had he been taught that was a lie?

He throws his bucket onto his bunk. It rolls to a stop on top of his pillow, wobbling like a grave marker. He snarls and turns away from the macabre scene. 

His hands won’t stop shaking. They’re going to give him a Jedi. The vode have been called to action, and they’re going to give him a fragile, mortal Jedi who is not at all an invincible god, and he is going to watch his Jedi die on some battlefield because they die, that’s what they do, and Wolffe is only a man. He’s only a man, and his shaking mortal hands won’t stop shaking, damn the little gods.

He paces laps around the room. He wants to run, but outside the rest of his brothers are celebrating their first action in ten long waterlogged years, and he doesn’t want to spoil their mood, even if they are all deluded and he’s the only one who sees things as they really are. The restless energy crawls under his skin. He needs something, anything to make it stop. 

Bacara’s got that ARC vod who brings contraband in from off-world training exercises. The damn things smell like shit, but he swears they’re good for his nerves. It takes a few minutes to pick open Bacara’s footlocker and a few seconds to fish out the little paper box of cigarettes. The first breath burns, but he keeps at it and soon enough the tremors stop. 

It’s not quite enough to get rid of his sense of impending doom, but he thinks that nothing can do that anymore. They’re all living on borrowed time. There’s a blaster shot out there with his name on it, and it’s just a matter of when it finds him. 

2. 

There’s 576 troopers under his command, and 10 of them are still alive because their general is a reckless maniac. Plo Koon was supposed to be a nice, sensible High Councilor, not a walking mir’shupurla or’dinii like the 501st got, or a paklalatla diplomat like the 212th’s. 

Plo Koon is somehow even worse, because he goes about with his bad ideas and his silver tongue cheerfully. As if life is a game of cards in which he is the dealer rigging the results, and he won’t stop smiling about it. All that osik about Jedi serenity and wisdom was exactly that; Wolffe has yet to talk to a single vod whose jetti is as advertised. 

That alone would be enough to drive Wolffe to drink, except - 

Well, the whole jetti thing aside, he’s practically the picture of mandokar. He’s stubborn and an unholy terror on the battlefield, and so very pleased to be alive. If Jango could see him - well, he’d probably try to kill him, but if Jango heard his description, he’d approve wholeheartedly. And to say nothing of his loyalty; if any CC had allowed such a maneuver and risked their priority asset for troopers who really should have known better, there would be hell to pay. But the man took one look at the situation and went off to save his men simply because they were alive and needed the help.

The part of Wolffe that is predisposed to falling for people with mandokar is already bracing for impact. The part of him responsible for protecting his charge is getting ready to pickle his own liver. Since there’s not a drop of alcohol in sight, both parts are going to have to settle for chain-smoking. 

He’s got his own cigs now. Still crappy whatever’s-cheapest-and-available, but they get the job done. His standards, though low, do exist; he isn’t interested in cutting his already short lifespan materially shorter with death sticks. Bacara is a more understanding vod than, say, Fox, and didn’t kick up much of a fuss once his shit was replaced; now they swap complaints about their latest smokes. This one tastes even more like tar than usual and burns too quick.

He discards the remains of the cig and fishes out the next. A trooper - one of the lucky ones now singing the General’s praises - walks by.

“You okay, sir?” he asks.

“Just fine,” Wolffe grumbles, thumbing the wheel on his lighter for a spark. The shiny pauses.

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” he says. “The General. They said the Jedi were good, but I don’t think I really believed it. But he came back for us.”

“He did,” says Wolffe. “Don’t make him do it again,” he says, and takes a long drag. 

3. 

His General uses Force lightning, and he uses it to light cigarettes. If that isn’t a frivolous use of the Force, Wolffe doesn’t know what is. He should probably be more concerned than he is, but the calming effect of the tobacco has already settled in. 

He keeps going back to the moment Plo stepped in close, like a challenge, like an invitation, and the urge to get him up against the wall and make him show something other than his cool composure. There must be something under his facade of unshakable calm. He doesn’t have hair to pull, but his fussy, excessively draped robes would provide as good a handhold as anything. He’d resist, of course; the fight would be part of the fun, but they’ve already established that Wolffe is the better between them at hand-to-hand. Wolffe would win in the end.

They’d start with their usual exchange, short, sharp jabs to test one another’s guard, and then longer flurries as they warmed up. Wolffe would allow Plo to press forward, would draw him in slowly, gradually, until he was in throwing range. Plo would notice and fall back, and their dance would continue. And then Plo would tire, as he did without the Force, and he would slow, and maybe the first few times he lingered in range too long Wolffe would be lenient and allow him to escape, sliding just out of reach. But at the edge of his endurance, Wolffe would catch him and haul him down to the ground, hold him wrists to the dirt, pinned by Wolffe’s weight. And he’d lean in, their breaths mixing, and -

Ah, fuck. The cigarette has burned almost all the way down in the time that he’s been dreaming. He takes a last drag and shakes himself loose of the fantasy. It’s never going to happen anyway. 

4. 

He’s sitting outside watching the stars and the arm of the galaxy in the night sky. There’s nothing left to do for the night. Everything’s tucked in and the captains can take care of whatever petty issues might arise. He’s got himself an honest-to-gods night off, and he knows exactly what he’s going to do with it. 

Plo settles beside him, his robes brushing quietly against the grass, and obligingly provides a spark when Wolffe holds out a cig. The smoke curls unpleasantly in the air and Plo leans away, nose wrinkling behind his mask. It’s not especially poisonous to him; it just gets caught in the rebreather and takes forever to cycle out. Still he comes to join Wolffe when he has nothing to do except burn a pack. 

“The benefits outweigh the drawbacks,” he says when Wolffe asks. “I’d accept your company however it is offered.” He lies stretched out on the ground, head so close to Wolffe’s hip, one clawed hand resting at the hollow where his ribs end, the other absently spinning a flower that smells like cold. 

“You could ask me to stop,” says Wolffe. It’s just a pastime; he doesn’t get cravings. His hands don’t shake for lack of nicotine. But - why not indulge a little when tomorrow and its consequences may never come? Will likely never come, even, the way the war is going. 

Plo hums instead of giving an answer. “I think, when we return to the ship, I should like to plant a garden.”

“Oh?” There’s not very much room that hasn’t already been claimed. A corner in the bay area that used to be for shuttles. Maybe he could clear out a spot by the engines. Plants liked heat, right? 

Plo hums again. “I have not tasted kand in many years. It grows poorly away from Dorin.”

Wolffe resists the urge to comment. Dorin doesn’t share any of its creations well, present company included. In fact, Wolffe is convinced present company might have a few more working brain cells had he not convinced the Sages to convince General Windu to bring him to Coruscant. But Plo continues as though he can’t feel the sarcasm coming off Wolffe in waves. 

“It’s a shrub, you see. Maintaining the necessary environment through the first nonproductive seasons makes it an unattractive option for commercial off-world growers. Only a few attempts have been made, even by the Agri-Corp.”

“Seems like you might be better off trying something else,” says Wolffe. “Seems like a lot of work for something that you might never see.”

“Perhaps,” says Plo, and then he takes off on another tangent. 

5.

He’s thinking about tomorrow and all the days that come after, and he’s thinking about what being happy feels like, and mostly he’s thinking about Plo, because he can have Plo if he wants and he knows it, and he’ll take Plo even if he might lose him later, and the losing will hurt more than anything else ever could, but the not having is even worse. And each moment of having makes the possible Plo-less future even more terrifying, but also moves the future where he gets to keep Plo closer into reach, and that’s worth it, isn’t it? To have and to hold, and to keep reaching for the future that he wants. 

He’s thinking and Plo is coming to him, and he’s got a cigarette between his fingers, the last of the box. He bends it in half and bins it unlit. 

“Not to your taste?” Plo asks, falling into step behind him.

“Nah,” says Wolffe. “Think I’ve found something better.”

[howveryheather]

some very strange jealousy

That Friday morning, I found myself driving up to meet with my sister Joey for brunch at a restaurant together. I felt mesmerized by the clear blue sky as I drove, watching the mountains whip past and the wind flood my open car windows. Just kidding, I mostly sat in bumper to bumper traffic chewing on my fingernails as I mulled over meeting up with her. I wasn’t exactly close to my sister, much as I wanted to be. We had a seven year age gap between us with her the older sibling and we were as different as night and day. She was pure corporate and I was a story left unfinished. 

My phone rang and I checked it. Abby calling. “Hey hey, you’re on speaker.”

“Why aren’t you at work right now?”

“I have the day off for some teacher in service event.”

“I always wondered about those days when I was in school. Doesn’t that mean that the teachers still need to go in or something?”

“Um, not for me. I’m actually not sure why I’m not going in really, but I’m just gonna take the free day and run with it.”

“Ugh, I wish Owens would do that. I’m in the bathroom right now looking at Instagram.”

“Aw, Abby! Are you calling me while you’re on the toilet? I feel so honored.”

“I’m not actually doing anything! Just taking a breather.”

“Cool, cool. Anything happening on the gram?”

“I’m getting some very strange jealousy looking at this one girl I’m friends with and one of her pictures. She’s sitting with a group of couples and they all look so happy and problem-free and it’s like... How do I get on that level?”

“It’s just one picture, Abby.”

“Dude, I feel like life is beating me down bad these days. Like everyone’s literally in my face with their happy relationships with all of these perfect guys and I’m stuck with people who don’t want to get serious about me and just want to fool around like Robert.”

“Girl, I told you to stop going out with that idiot. Dating Marc’s friends aren’t going to make you feel better about yourself.”

“I just don’t understand WHY Robert can’t see it the way I do.”

“Here we go.”

“We’re both attractive people! Ergo, we should be together but in the way that would be the perfect relationship for everyone where we have it announced on Facebook, pose together for wedding date photos on Instagram, and go to dinner parties together.”

“Dinner parties... What? Abby, who has the kind of money to be flinging on $50-60 dollar dinners every night?”

“The same people on Instagram, dude. Happy couples go out.”

I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Idk about that. Todd bought me a cheeseburger at McDonald’s last night. Then he dropped his phone in the toilet so we had to go out and buy a bag of rice for it to soak in. Real romance, right there.”

“I’m just sick of everyone else having everything while I have nothing.” 

Oh jeez, not this again. On the restaurant’s patio I could see my sister, sitting ramrod straight without a smile on her face. Like she was in a courtroom instead of at brunch. I ran up the stairs and headed over to her spot. “Listen, you are beautiful and full of fun and excitement that none of these duds you’re dating can even begin to measure up to so please stop giving them, and all of these basic Instagram borings, the time of day and give yourself that time instead.”

“Wow. That’s really magical what you just said.”

“And remember that these people at all of their dinner parties are probably terribly boring with nothing good to say at all. Remember the time when you and Marc were still together and we decided to play the ‘who am I?’ card game with famous serial killers?”

“I remember. Three of his friends left that restaurant early that night. They were appalled.” Abby sighed wistfully, “Just wonderful.”

“Exactly! Who wants to hang out at a table with people who don’t know or care about who John Wayne Gacy was? Nobody, that’s who. We are your people!”

“I don’t know whether or not to be happy or sad about that.”

“Well coming from the girl who called me on the toilet, I don’t think you get much of a say in any of this. You get the card you’re dealt because you are that card.”

“I think I have a pretty good hand, all things considered.” 

“Exactly. Just crashed landed on the planet of brunch with my sister.” I stood in front of Joey’s table, “Call you back later and love you lots.”

“Love you lots and lots too.”

“Get back to work!”

“UGH, I’m going!” Abby hung up.

I grinned and sank into the chair in front of Joey, “Hi hi!”

“Hello there, Naomi.” Joey removed her sunglasses and folded them, placing them to the right hand side of the table next to the stand-up drink menu. She wore a linen suit, had a weave, and had a facial expression that looked like she was perpetually holding in a great big fart. Lots of knots in her forehead and a tight line for a mouth where a smile should be.

“Who was that on the phone?” she asked me.

I picked up the menu, “Abby. Just freaking out that everyone but her is married and in great relationships with babies as the impending doom of getting older and remaining single alone on Facebook closes in all around her. Ya know, the usual. 

“Is she dating anyone right now?”

“Uh, kind of. This guy Robert but he’s more of a fuck buddy than anything else.”

“Naomi!”

“What? Oh, I forgot. You don’t like open swearing.”

“It’s gauche.”

“Gauche? Okay SAT practice exam, I’ll have you know that I was really trying not to say that word but I didn’t really have a better turn of phrase for this particular situation.”

“You could have said friends with benefits.”

“Ah, but that would imply that they are friends which they are not.”

“Hrm-erm.” Joey made a noise in the back of her throat which usually signified that I was going beyond what she would normally speak about in public mixed in with some mild shock and horror.

The waiter came by and took our drink and lunch orders. Salad and a white wine for her, some funky tacos and sangria for me. 

Then it got quiet at the table which is what I feared. When it was quiet between us, it was never a pleasant kind of quiet. More like the quiet associated with an awkward first date out. For the first couple of minutes, we nervously grinned at each other. Yes, nervous grins with the girl who I grew up. The girl who pushed me into a church pew once, the one I ripped the poncho off of at the last minute on Splash Mountain at Disneyland so she would get wet, the one I also played Polly Pockets with and walked home from school singing En Vogue songs with together. My sister. It was kind of weird, but that was the point where we had drifted to in our lives.

“How’s Todd?” she finally broke the silence.

“He’s good! Dropped his phone into the toilet last night, but it’s getting repaired as we speak.”

“At a repair shop?”

“Ah, no at Casa de Kissling-Vogel in a baggie of rice.”

“He should really take it to a shop for a full service repair.”

Now it was my turn to have my mouth become a tight line, “We don’t have the kind of money for that right now. DIY remedies will have to do.”

“I see.” She played with her wine glass.

“And um, how is your life? How is being a lawyer going?”

“Well. I’m putting in a lot of time at the firm to become a partner right now.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed, “Wow, you’re finally getting there.”

“Now what does that mean?” Joey slowly asked me.

Uh oh. Our food arrived and I dove into the tacos, chewing as I talked, “Uh, what I meant was-”

“Please do not talk to me with your mouth full.”

Jeez. I swallowed, “I didn’t mean anything mean by it. I just-”

“You just what?”

“Well, in Sex and the City Miranda became a partner at her law firm by the time she was what, 34? 35? And you’re 38...”

Joey grabbed her fork and began jabbing it into her salad leaves. “Life is not an episode of Sex and the City, Naomi.” As she said this, she punctured a different piece of romaine lettuce for each word.

“I mean, that’s really all I know about the legal world so...” I trailed off.

“Hard work takes time. It’s all an investment. School was an investment. Work was an investment. This is a slower process than one might think it would be.”

“Right, right. I’m sorry.” I looked down at my tacos. Even they seemed wilted at this point.

Now what were we gonna talk about? “So, are you dating anyone right now?”

Joey put down her fork, “You can’t seriously be asking me that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a problematic question to ask?”

“Do you honestly think I would have the time given my current work circumstances to waste on dating?”

“Waste?”

“I don’t and I am not dating.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry I asked. I should have known that having fun is not an investment.” I muttered.

“Naomi, are you alright?” 

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean we are skirting the edges of having an argument right now and I do not want that to happen.”

“Neither do I!”

“Then why do you keep bringing up questions that challenge and test me?”

“I’m not trying to! I’m just asking you absurdly normal questions like how’s work and how’s your personal life which literally anyone else in the history of life would consider perfectly fine!”

“And how are we doing over here?” Our waiter suddenly showed up.

“Terrible.” I said flatly. Joey’s eyes darted back and forth between the waiter and I in a frenzy.

The waiter laughed nervously, “Uh-”

“We’re fine. The food is delicious.” The line for Joey’s mouth morphed into a smile and the waiter nodded and went on his way. Then she turned to me with the mouth line set once again, “I can’t believe you said that.” 

“Why did you even invite me here?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You clearly can’t stand being around me and you decided to invite me out on the one day I get off from the kids at the school and you yell at me the whole time! I could be sleeping in right now!”

“Sleeping in? It’s noon.”

“Whatever, I like being in bed late on the days I have off! And having some REAL food too. I mean, what a joke this so-called ‘brunch’ is with you eating a salad during it, that’s not even a brunch meal and you just lied to our waiter for saying it was delicious!”

Joey stared at me, her shoulders heaving up and down. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you... About to cry?”

“No.” She began breathing in and out heavily, “I’m doing my breathing exercises. They help calm me down.”

I laughed a little, “Ah yes, let’s just keep suppressing the urge to yell and express emotion.”

“it’s meditative.” Joey’s shoulders went slack and she folded her hands in front of her, “There.”

“You do seem a bit more calm.”

“It helps at the office. I’m the only woman working there, you know.” She sighed, “Naomi, I asked you out today because I haven’t seen you in over two months and we live in the same city.”

“Wow, has it really been two months?”

“Yes. And I understand that a lot of that has to do with scheduling — you at the school and me at the office. But I really wanted to have some one-on-one time with you again and focus on making that more of a priority.”

“Why?” I asked.

Joey seemed thrown, “Why?”

“Yes, why. Why is this a priority now all of a sudden?”

“Because we’re getting older and life is changing and you are my sister.” Joey firmly said, “We will not always be here, in this space that we are now, and I would hate to look back on this time and realize that we were not a part of each other’s lives during it.”

[huntertales]

Supernatural Bloopers: Reader Insert Edition! (Season One)

A/N: So after delaying for months on the lovely suggestions people have been giving me, I finally managed to get something out that I hope you guys enjoyed. Since I do episode rewrites for the show, I thought why not try and do some for the bloopers?I picked out my personal favorite scenes from the gag reel and gave them little drabbles. I hope this was worth the wait, and while it’s pretty tiny, there’s still plenty more I could do! I really hope you guys enjoy! Warning: The gifs that you see are obviously not mine. Credit is given to the lovely creators.  Season One Gag Reel: Watch Here. 

[Credit: X]

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” You spoke in a sing song voice, silently bobbing your head back and forth as you sat in the backseat of the the Impala that was a prop, one of the many you would find on set. Early morning shoots weren’t your favorite, but considering how many scenes you had to do today, it was part of the job, and you loved every second of this. You adjusted yourself in the leather seats and lifted up the clapperboard to the front of you and made sure it was in front of the camera like you were told. The front seats were occupied by both of your male co stars, Jared got himself ready by letting out a yawn as the palms of his hands ran down his hair before he outstretched his arms. He let out an obnoxiously loud cough, getting it in before you got everyone ready. You lifted up the top part of the board like instructed. “Scene nine—take three.”

You slapped the part down, making a small thumping noise, bringing you and the boys into focus of what you were supposed to be doing. The scene you were shooting today was Sam and your character confronting Dean about him slipping the confession to his old love, Cassie. You set the clapperboard down on the seat so it was out of view and focused your attention forward to get this started. “You told her?!” Jared delivered his line, using the frustration his character would feel in this situation.

“Shut up.” Jensen hissed out, sounding perfectly annoyed.

You leaned forward in your seat so you would appear to the camera so you would be visually in the middle of the men. Sometimes scenes didn’t go perfectly, and this was one of them. “You told her. You told her the big family secret.” You accidentally delivered the line that was supposed to be Jared’s. You only knew when he turned his head to look at you as he shook his head, the ends of his lips stretching into a grin, knowing all of you were going to have to start this scene again. But you still kept a straight face and looked at Jensen, letting this play out. “You’re a disappointment to this family, Jensen. A true disappointment. You screwed up everything—including my lines.”

You puckered out your lips as you tried your hardest not to laugh and keep your serious glare, but the boys couldn’t help it when they knew this scene was unuseable. Through the chuckles and smiles, you heard the director yell cut, informing the three of you that the scene would be needed to be done over, yet again.

[Credit: X] 

You stood at the edge of the dock and stared off into the distance of the lake you were filming a scene for the second episode. You and the boys were to imagine the speed boat one of the guest actors driving off into their impending doom, the three of you were to stare off into the distance, pretending to be shocked and frustrated for being too late. But all of you couldn’t help yourselves when it came to fooling around to help kill some time after getting the shot. Jensen pretended to become frightened at what his character was supposed to have seen, and without a warning, he wrapped his arms securely around Jared’s neck and leaped forward. Somehow Jared was quick to outstretch his arms and catch Jensen before he could accidentally fell to the concrete ground.

"Hurry, Y/N!” Jensen called out your name in a panicked tone.

You stood behind Jared and got yourself prepared, thinking the man at least twice your size could handle what you were about to do. It was a joke you and Jensen agreed on to have a little fun. You outstretched your arms and took a step forward, getting prepared to hold onto Jared’s shoulders so you could piggy back him. But the plan didn’t go how you thought. It seemed the tables ended up being turned on you.

Before you could realize what was going on, Jared stepped out of the way, giving you a clear shot for you to dive straight into the water. You had given yourself too much of a head start, and before you could stop yourself, you were flying into the air, and landing directly into the freezing cold water. It had to be at least below zero, way too cold for anyone to be taking a dive during this time of year. 

You swam around in the water, paddling around your arms until you made it to the top, where your lungs inhaled a deep breath of fresh air as your teeth began to loudly chatter. The clothes for this scene were soaked as you were freezing to the bone, but it seemed both of them were nothing short of amused from what they were able to do fom the laughs and fingers they were pointing at you. Pranks were nothing new on the set, all of you did just about anything to pull a quick one on each other. You were going to get them back, and it was going to be when they least expected it.

[Credit: X]

Being apart of this show and playing your character had its advantages. Through the season your character had used a lot of different disguises to get the job done, mostly forms of authority, like a detective or the risky homeland security officer. But sometimes there were roles that were a bit taboo, and an opportunity to let loose and have a bit of fun. You stood in the living room of the house you had been filming most of the episode, Nightmares. Most of the scenes you were almost wrapped up, you had one more to do with the boys and the actor playing Max and his mother. You kept yourself occupied and flipped through the script for one last time, wanting to make sure you had memorized your lines just right. Filming would begin in less than twenty minutes, and while you were hopeful you could catch someone to help run through lines, your personal thoughts were pushed to the side when you heard what sounded like a doorbell ringing.

You furrowed your brow and glanced around the room, wondering if someone else had heard the noise, but everyone on set was diligently working. You rolled up your script and headed forward to the front door. You thought it might have been someone testing the doorbell to see if it was in working order. But you found yourself opening the door anyway, curious to see what you might find. And whom you saw standing on the porch steps wasn’t the least bit surprising. You found a devious smirk spreading across your lips as you leaned against the door. Jared and Jensen stood on the front porch with their priest costumes from the earlier scenes you had shot, but this time, they had cut off the sleeves, showing off their arms. Your eyes wandered down ever so slightly when you noticed both of them were flexing, showing off what muscles they had, making this even more funnier for you.

“Well, hello there, sweetheart. I’m Gene, this is Ace.” Jensen greeted you with a winning smile. You shook your head, knowing they were trying to be funny by re-enacting a scene you had done earlier this week. “We’re new Chippendale dancers, we just moved in next door.“

“We heard there was a party and decided to pop on over.” Jared added with a sly wink, deciding to have a bit of fun with this even more. “Mind if we come in?”

[Credit: X]

You were back in the Impala once more with the intent of wrapping up today’s final scene in one take. It was a fairly simple one, just a few lines before the editor could fade the scene to black before rolling credits. You let out a yawn and looked away from the camera, trying to get yourself to wake up and look at least like you weren’t supposed to be asleep. When there was a call for everyone to get ready to start filming, you let out yet another yawn, trying your hardest to keep yourself composed.

The final scene for this episode would conclude Sam sitting in the driver’s side and Dean in the passenger seat. There was only a few lines of dialogue before you could go home for the day. You looked out the window for a moment, keeping yourself occupied and waiting for the cue to speak your lines, but you turned your head when you heard Jensen speak up.

“Wake me up when it’s my turn to drive.”

You didn’t think much of it, until, he decided to act on Dean’s actions as he began to lower himself into a lying position, but it wasn’t against the passenger’s side window. He titled himself into Jared’s lap for a comfortable snooze. Your leaned forward in your seat so you were hovering over him. You puckered out your lips and made a loud kissing noise, pretending to give him a peck on his forehead., wishing him a good night’s sleep. When you heard the warning call for everyone to get into their position, all of you got back into your proper set up, getting ready to do the perfect take so you could go home, wrapping up yet another successful day of shooting at the job you had grown to love with people that made all the screw ups and accidental mistakes worthwhile.