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ameagrice · 11 months ago

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chapter twenty-nine | little talks

percy jackson x fem reader

“Help me,” you whispered, so lowly you worried it was too low for Travis to hear a thing you said. “I can’t stay here.”

The wind howled wherever he was outside of camp, and car horns blared in the background. Outside of your bedroom, your dad raged in the hallway, steadily making his way to your room. One by one, thick bangs indicated new holes in walls. Rachel was screaming, too, but not in anger—she was pleading with him to stop, as the baby screamed like he never had before.

That had set him off—Finney’s screaming in the night. Maybe it was a nightmare, or maybe he was in pain. Nothing changed. And you had no control over it.

“How far even is Sydney from here?” Travis asked desperately, exhaling slowly. “Like, a day’s flight?”

There was the issue of getting out. Getting here had been easy—your dad’s money; your dad asking for a do-over; your dad’s want. How was it possible to leave now, with ten dollars to your name, Finney in pain, and Rachel alone with him? How would you make it back to the States without his money? Which, he would without a doubt, notice missing.

“You’ve gotta help me,” you whispered helplessly into Rachel’s stolen phone, watching the sea from your bedroom window. It calmly lapped the shore.

Nothing but Travis, poor Travis, and his helpless breathing on the other end of the line.

“I’ll see you soon, Travis,” you uttered softly, taking the phone away from your ear, ending the call with a press of a button, before smashing it over, and over, against the corner of your drawer.

You’d find a way to pay Rachel back for breaking her phone.

As you threw things into a backpack—leggings, toothbrush, favourite plushie and iPod—you muttered aloud to whatever Gods you could think of.

Hermes, for safety, the patron of travellers.

Ares, for the strength your anger gave you, and bravery you needed, hands shaking.

And your mother, to save your life. To watch over you.

They were so into their arguing, nobody noticed you slip out of your bedroom and racing down the stairs, raincoat on, and sneakers messily laced. Every sense in your body screamed run! and your eyes drifted over a hole in the wall with no photograph to cover it just yet. Your bones physically ached to take Finney in your arms and hush him to sleep, to save his poor throat from the soreness that would come from all his terror.

Maybe Rachel would see sense.

Unbelievable to yourself, Ares was the god you prayed to, not stopping at the bottom of the stairs, heading straight for the front door.

Annabeth’s house was the exact image of happy, and well-lived in. A little kid’s winter coat lay on the floor, and the whole house smelled of cookies. The coffee table in the living room was stacked high with books of all kinds, from wars to fairy tales, the wood stained with what must have been years of being used.

Her dad, for all the bad that Annabeth had said about him, seemed lovely. He seemingly wasn’t fussed about the children’s clothes on the sofa, or the gaggle of random teens in his house…the kind of parent you wished for.

You sighed, eyeing the home. Annabeth didn’t know how good she had it.

Photographs lined up along the walls, and stood in pretty framed on the windowsill. You were sure, almost certain, that if you moved aside the frames on the walls, there would be no holes underneath them, plaster torn through from anger, covered up in odd places with different-sized frames.

Your fingers itched just to see.

There were Lego robots on the stairs, when you turned around to admire the house, and a cat stretched out in a patch of dying sunlight at the bottom of the staircase. Jazz music floated throughout from the kitchen.

You were so jealous, you could have strangled Annabeth for giving this up.

“Dad!” A little boy screamed. You jumped easily. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Mr. Chase called absently, “stop doing that.”

“I’m Bobby!” The boy protested. “He’s Matthew!”

“Matthew, don’t take apart your brother’s robots!”

“Okay!”

Annabeth’s dad turned to you, looking you over properly. He hadn’t so much as really looked at anyone since inviting you in. “Let’s go upstairs and talk in my study…”

You knew what it was the second that he paused.

“Are you…?” He blinked, wide-eyed. “Do you know my Annabeth?”

The eyes. Always the eyes.

“My

Annabeth”

And, Gods, would anyone talk about you like that? Earnestly, and wholeheartedly? Not as a possession to be moved around at will, as you’d experienced, but somebody who was wanted, and very clearly, loved. To belong to somebody with care.

Annabeth was due a lecture. You decided that firmly.

You shifted on your hip, hands in pockets. “She’s my sister.”

He ah’d silently, and then waved his hand briefly to you. “I figured. The—”

“Eyes?” You finished at the same time, and heat spread across your cheeks. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Frederick?”

Your gaze fell behind Annabeth’s dad, to a pretty Asian woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She was taller than you, shorter than Mr. Chase, and her hair—god, you would have died for hair like that—was glossy-looking and tinted red, and she held a pair of kids’ shoes in her hand.

“Who are our guests?” She asked.

“Oh, uh…this is…”

He stared at your group blankly.

“Frederick!” She chided. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

You introduced yourselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seemed nice. Especially when she offered cookies.

“Dear, they came about Annabeth.”

You weren’t sure what you expected from her reaction-wise, but a simple concerned look wasn’t enough for you. “Alright. Go on up to the study and I’ll bring you some food up.” She smiled. “Nice meeting you, Percy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

It was as if the blood in your body halted, and a strange feeling overcame you. Without really meaning to, you were sure you pulled a face. Thalia, beside you, snickered quietly.

The ‘study’ wasn’t what you’d expected at all, certainly not for a grown man with children. Then again, perhaps he’d built this just for them. The thought made you feel warm inside, and oddly, spiteful; planes you recognised from history movies dangled on clear string from the ceiling, circling over a home-made demonstration of a fort, all cliffs and grass and the sense of death.

A war, Frederick Chase had built in his home.

You didn’t care much for whatever they talked about behind you; Zoe muttering something about enemy lines, Percy’s butting in, and Mr. Chase’s answering patiently. Instead, your interest piqued at a globe sitting on a tabletop to the side of the room, surrounded by well-loved books, slightly dusty and sitting askew atop of one another. You reached your hand out, and gently pushed the globe around, spinning it idly. Your eyes wandered.

A ratty, once-adored stuffed animal, now vaguely resembling an elephant, sat alone in a corner made by books, staring up at you. Was this Annabeth’s? Had she at one point abandoned this little guy in search of peace the way you had recently done to Finney?

It hurt so bad to think about, that it didn’t bear thinking about at all.

Either way, your heart clenched for your family.

The afternoon light was quickly changing, darkening, and you found the strength to speak up and bring to attention the problems that needed solving—ones that you were not at all prepared to take on any time soon alone. Your mind, for all people praised children of Athena, was not well-equipped for these situations. You weren’t smart enough, you felt.

And it was proving itself to be the case, too.

Just luck something in you persuaded. It’s all just bad luck.

You allowed Percy and Thalia to explain everything to Annabeth’s father, who, after paying great attention to even the side-tracking Percy inevitably talked, collapsed into an old armchair beside the desk you perched on the edge of. He laced his hands, looking worn and stressed.

“My poor brave Annabeth,” he said, quietly.

The cookie in your hand crunched and crumbled all over the desk, and pure bitterness scraped your insides.

“Sir,” Zoe brought you out of your thoughts. “We need transportation to Mount Tamalpais. And we need it immediately.”

He nodded. Mr. Chase blinked at his coffee table, absent in thought. “I’ll take you. Hmm…it would be faster to fly in my Camel. But it only seats two…”

Your mind snapped to attention. “Wait, you have an actual Sopwith Camel just chilling around?”

Mr. Chase nodded as though it was normal as anything. “Down at Chrissy Field. That’s the reason I moved here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the world’s finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—”

“Sir,” Thalia cut in, “a car would be just great. And it might be better if we went without you. It’s too dangerous.”

Mr. Chase visibly deflated in his armchair, frowning uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I can’t just—”

“Snacks!” Mrs. Chase announced, bustling into the room with a tray of goods.

“I can drive, sir,” said Zoe. “I’m not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car.”

Mrs. Chase knit her eyebrows. “What’s this about?”

“Annabeth is in danger,” said Mr. Chase. “On Mount Tam. I would take them…but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

To your surprise, Mrs. Chase nodded, not questioning it. Maybe she was used to this stuff by now. “They’d better get going then.”

“Right!” He jumped up, and started patting his pockets. “I…need to just get my keys…”

His wife sighed. “Honestly, Frederick, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t constantly in your hat.” Relatable. “They’re downstairs, on the peg by the door.”

“Right!”

Zoe grabbed a sandwich, and you stuffed a couple of cookies in your backpack, uncaring for the crumbs. “Thank you both. We should go. Now.”

Everyone headed for the stairs, Mr. Chase first—he walked quickly with urgency in his steps, and you wandered, would anyone ever act this way for you? Travis, maybe, at some point, if the time ever called for it. He’d shown that he cared. Or at least, you thought he did. Percy, too, who pulled you back-to-back with him earlier, protecting one another.

“Percy!” Mrs. Chase called. You waited at Mr. Chase’s side, at the front door, hands in your pockets. “Tell Annabeth…tell her, she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

For a second, you closed your eyes, and let yourself be lost in imagination. The sound of happy children playing, standing beside a father who cared, who was light with warmth and love. The feeling of pure safety in the home.

For a second, you let yourself feel this.

After the car blew up, and you spent a good few minutes with Percy picking car pieces out of your hair and skin, you had thought perhaps nothing else could go wrong.

But this was a quest you were supposed to be a part of, so of course something else did go wrong.

“Silence, fool!” Zoe hissed, pulling Percy and big mouth down behind a rock. “Do you want to wake Ladon?”

“You mean we’re here?” You asked. This was it? The road was shrouded with thick fog, ahead of you, the mountain was even darker.

“Very close,” she said. “Follow me.”

Fog drifted across the road, and shivers crawled up your back. Zoe stepped out into it and disappeared completely.

“Focus on her,” said Thalia. “The Mist is really strong here. Just step into the fog and focus on Zoe.”

Apprehension became you, but you did as she said. Zoe was nowhere to be seen at first, but the more you concentrated on finding her, the dog cleared, and the road became dirt, and the dirt lead to the mountain. And then there was Zoe and Thalia, and Percy just behind you.

Your breath was stolen pretty quickly. The grass was thicker, the sunset a bloody slash across the sky, hues of peach and amber colliding. The summit of the mountain was closer, now, swirling with dark clouds and power above. There was only one path right in front of you, leaden with beautiful flowers and trees, pink blossoms and bright purples you couldn’t name. It lead to a darker forest of shadows and flowers that glowed.

You weren’t sure how you knew, but…

“The garden of twilight,” you muttered. Zoe’s head snapped to you.

The grass shimmered with silvery, dewy light, the flowers such brilliant colours they flowed and lit the darkness around you. Black, polished marble steps danced around a five-storey tall golden apple tree, literal golden apples, glimmering and glowing amongst the rich green leaves.

“Hera’s apples of immortality,” Thalia said lowly. “A wedding gift from Zeus.”

You were tempted to step right up and grab one, except you found the danger quickly.

The dragon, curled around the tree. The dragon, bigger than you could have ever imagined one, and with more heads than it was possible to count. He appeared to be sleeping.

Something in the darkness caught your attention. The shadows began to move, an eerie singing beginning. You clutched your dagger harder.

Four figures appeared, girls in white greek chitons. They were beautiful, and, with a shiver, you noticed they resembled Zoe Nightshade. Or, rather, she resembled them.

“Sisters,” Zoe said with a small sigh.

“We do not see any sister,” one of the girls said coldly. “We see three half-bloods and a Hunter. All of whom will soon die.”

“Don’t worry about being pessimistic,” you muttered. Percy elbowed you, firmly.

“You’ve got it wrong,” he stepped forward. “Nobody is going to die.”

But…you had that feeling again. The one before Bianca. And you couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or foreshadowing. Whichever it was, it made you feel sick, nonetheless, and helpless.

“Perseus Jackson,” one of them said.

“Yes, I do not see how he is a threat.”

“Who said I’m a threat?”

The first girl glanced behind her, toward the top of the mountain. “They are unhappy that this one has not yet killed thee,” she pointed to Thalia. “They fear thee.”

“Tempting, sometimes,” Thalia said. “But no, thanks. He’s my friend.”

“There are no friends here, Daughter of Zeus. Only enemies. Turn back.”

“Not without Annabeth,” she moved forward.

“And Artemis. We must approach the mountain.”

“You know he will kill thee. You are no match for him.” One of the girls scoffed.

“Artemis must be freed. Let us pass.”

“You have no rights here anymore.” Harsh. “We have only to raise our voices and Ladon will wake.”

“He will not harm me,” Zoe shook her head gently.

“No? And what about thy so-called friends?”

Then, Zoe did the last thing you wished she would. She clapped her hands, and yelled. “Ladon! Wake!”

The dragon’s eyes snapped open instantly. He glittered like a mountain of coins, just as everything in your body shivered.

Your heart took cover.

Zoe’s sisters scattered. One of the girls was furious. “Are you mad?!”

“You never had any courage, sister. That is thy problem.”

You’d never seen Zoe so forward, and confident. Confidence outside of your comfort zone was different. But you knew to be confident and strong against your family was a different kind.

Ladon was awake, now, a hundred heads hissing and swirling. You wanted to back up, and leave this place. Zoe, standing ahead of you all, looked up at him with nothing but surety. Thalia had shifted, and Percy was still as anything beside you, the two of you looking with your heads tipped back.

Your lungs chose the awfully wrong time to deflate. Because in the light of the glowing flowers, and the danger on the breeze, Percy’s eyes were bright green, his tan skin aglowing, and his dark hair looked glossier than ever. The perfect edge to his nose, shining ever so slightly. His mouth was slightly agape in—shock? Confusion? Horror?

The most heavenly boy to exist.

“Let’s go,” you decided, the first to make a move.

“Ladon is trained to protect the tree,” Zoe said, moving forward toward the dragon. She raised her arms out to him as if she were welcoming a best friend home, not a killing machine. “Skirt around the edges of the garden. I am a bigger threat. Go up toward the mountain. As long as I’m here, he should ignore thee.”

“Should?” Percy snapped. “Not exactly reassuring.”

Your body turned cold. “No. Come on. Let’s all just run for it. Nobody gets left behind.”

Thalia looked at you and nodded. “Zoe. Let’s go.”

“It is the only way. Even the four of us together cannot fight him.”

Ladon opened his mouths. The sound of a hundred heads hissing at once sent a shiver down your back, and that was before his breath hit your nose. The smell was like acid. It made your eyes burn, your skin crawl, and your hair stand on end. Combine all that with spearmint, and you were good to remember it for life.

Thalia and Percy had already left your side, skirting around the edge of the garden as Zoe had told them to. But something didn’t feel right about that, to you.

You crept up beside Zoe. Very firmly, you said, “I’ll stay with you. We ain’t leaving anybody.”

She looked horrified, and it was such an un-Zoe-like expression that it instantly freaked you out. “No—go, now.”

“No! You don’t leave friends behind!” You fought, gripping your dagger for dear life. An awful, awful feeling had taken over your body.

She pressed her mouth together unhappily, but some other look drew over her face, and she nodded once, determinedly.

She walked toward the dragon, voice calm. “It’s me, Ladon. I’m home.”

As long as I’m here, he should ignore thee, she had said. You waited for her to get closer to him before you shifted into gear, too. The aim being to draw attention away from Thalia and Percy. When they were past, you’d try to make your way up the mountain, and hope that Zoe going last would mean the dragon would let you mostly pass before you had to fight for your lives.

The eldest of Zoe’s sisters’ voice flowed in the air as they left. “Fool.”

“I used to feed thee by hand,” Zoe continued in a soothing voice. “Do you remember?”

There were many words you could think of to describe Zoe Nightshade in that moment and what had come before, but only one came to mind, full force—Brave.

She kept talking, and the heads switched their attention between you and her. Trying to keep it all solely off of Zoe, you watched it carefully, walking backward up the mountain, unable to watch your footing. Zoe caught on to what you were doing, and began to move, too.

For whatever reason, the air shifted.

The dragon lunged.

Two thousand years of training kept Zoe alive. She jumped over one set of heads snarling and snapping at her and tumbled under another set, springing to her feet. You ran together, at pace, at the same footsteps, toward the others. Your heart pumped furiously, pushing you onward, getting ready.

Percy had drawn his sword, but Zoe panted. “No! Run!” She screamed.

Something tensed inside of you. You looked to Zoe at your side, and your eyes widened, horrified. “Move!” Your hand reached out…

Too slow.

The dragon snapped at her side, and she yelped, crying out. Her footing slipped, but you didn’t hesitate to snatch her by the arm, holding her up. She didn’t stop, despite the obvious pain she must have been in.

You ran up the mountain, Thalia and Percy not too far behind. The dragon hissed and stomped, but as Zoe had said, he was trained to protect the tree. So he moved no further, no longer persuing you.

A song was in the air. Of sadness, of death.

At the top of mountain were ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that looked as though they’d been half melted.

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispered in awe.

“Yes,” Zoe said. “It was not here before. This is bad.” You watched for any aspect of pain, heart pounding.

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asked.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe said. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was—” She winced and held her side.

“You’re hurt,” you said. “Let me see.”

“No! I’m not. It’s fine. I was saying, in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But…how is it here?”

Thalia looked around cautiously as you picked your way through rubble and dirt, blocks of marble and broken archways.

“It moves in the same way that Olympus moves, right?”

Thalia blinked. “Right. It always exists on the edges of civilisation. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good.”

“Why?”

“This is Altas’s mountain,” said Zoe. “This is where he holds—” she froze. Her voice was ragged with despair. “Where he held up the world.”

You had reached the summit. A few yards ahead, grey clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains.

Zoe gasped and rushed forward. “My lady!”

Artemis shook her head as best she could, shaking. “No! It is a trap! You must go now!” Her voice was strained, and she looked to be in so much pain, that your soul cried out to help. She was covered in sweat, and visibly struggling.

Zoe was crying. Despite what Artemis said, she ran forward and dropped to her knees before her, tugging at the chains.

A booming voice spoke from behind you. “Ah, how touching.”

Everyone turned. Zoe sniffled, shifting on her knee to look as well. There the General stood in a brown suit. At his side was Luke Castellan, worn and weary-faced, alongside over a good hundred dracaenae bearing a golden sarcophagus. You didn’t need anyone to explain. You knew who that was for.

A head of dirty hair caught your eye. She was small next to Luke and the monsters, with a gag in her mouth and her hands bound. Luke held the tip of a knife against her throat. Her eyes were wide with pleading, and glassy. Annabeth. Your sister.

She met your gaze. And sent you only one message.

RUN!

“Luke,” Thalia snarled. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile was weak, so weak, and pale. “That is the General’s decision, Thalia. But it’s good to see you again.”

Thalia spat at him.

Observant, as you always were, you paid attention to many things all at once; Percy’s awestruck eyes on your sister; Thalia’s pure disgust; Annabeth’s pain; Zoe Nightshade falling to rest from her knees; Artemis’s silver eyes drifting between every member present.

The General chuckled. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groaned. “Do not challenge him, Zoe.”

It clicked instantly.

“Wait a second.” As it did for Percy, too. “You’re Atlas?”

The General’s eyes laid lazily on him. “So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the General of the Titans and the terror of the Gods. Congratulations.” He drawled. “I will kill you presently, as soon as I have dealt with this wretched girl.”

“You’re not going to hurt Zoe,” said Percy. “I won’t let you.”

“You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter.”

“A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe said bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

Pain. That’s all it is.

Y/N understands girls watching out for girls, and friends looking after friends. Nobody gets left behind.

songs I listened to writing this chapter:

— little talks, of mice and men

— riptide, vax

— dog days are over, Florence

all on the capsize playlist! :)

Taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @jessiegerl @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible

#capsize #percy jackson #leo valdez #annabeth chase #asks #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #anon #percy Jackson fic #Leo Valdez x reader #travis stoll x reader #Travis stoll #connor stoll x reader #connor stoll #jason grace x reader #percy jackson series #Spotify

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magnoliasandarson · 7 months ago

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april 27th

In Wayne Manor there is a room unlike any of the other. It is not the Batcave, with all of its wonderful and physics-defying technology. It is not the study with its auspicious clock. It is not the library with its hundreds of rare and mysterious tomes. It is a room in the family wing, two doors down from the master bedroom.

This room is so special because it exists outside of time. In that room, it is always the morning of April 27th, just before dawn.

A small pile of dirty clothes is haphazardly tossed in a hamper next to the armoire. Drafts of half-written essays are scattered over the desk. A long-dead iPod is tucked between the pages of a lovingly annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A red hoodie is draped over the back of the desk chair, its pocket still holding a Batarang, a learner's permit, and a pencil.

In the center of the room, on the dusty floor, is a shattered picture frame.

If you were to look past the broken glass and the smallest blood stain, you would see a torn picture of a teenage boy standing between two men in suits. The boy was grinning like he'd won the lottery- crooked teeth on full display and blue eyes sparkling. The man on the right looks proud, also beaming at the camera with his hand clasping the boy's shoulder. The man on the left has his hands behind his back, the smallest smile pulling wrinkles into life on his face. The three looked like their lives had never been better; stood on the steps in front of a courthouse with the boy holding a freshly notarized certificate.

Perhaps that is why the frame was shattered.

Perhaps, on April 27th, in the early hours of the morning, Bruce Wayne knocked on the heavy mahogany door, regretful and wanting to make amends. But when he heard no response, he pushed the door open. Maybe when he saw the picture tossed to the ground, he panicked and dropped to his knees, slicing his fingers open on the glass in his haste to read the note that had been tossed onto the wreckage. The note crumbled in his hands as he raced out, slamming the door behind him.

The room remains untouched from that moment on, except on the 27th of April. Every year, a nightmare will rip Bruce Wayne from his fragile slumber, and he will tear through the manor in a blind panic, throwing the door open with the name Jason on his tongue.

Every year, he is greeted with the room that time forgot, and he falls apart.

#dc comics #dc universe #jason todd #robin #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #april 27 #the death of jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd wayne #rare good dad bruce wayne post #alfred pennyworth #wayne manor #batfamily

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bharv · 2 months ago

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Not to be an old person on the internet but I sometimes find it so hard to express how much the world has changed in 15 years to young people. 2009 feels like a different planet to me (for context that’s when I graduated so it’s to me when I started adult life.)

So off the top of my head things that were SO different:

Globalisation just wasn’t a thing yet. The UK would get films up to a year after America. There was more crossover than when I was a kid but it was still not easy to access American shows.

However pirating was still very good lmao.

There was no Netflix. No streaming at all. 2009 was when podcasts began to crop up and it was a huge deal, but it was limited to iPods and only people with access to professional studios could do them. It took about 5 years for it to become a bit more democratised, but you still needed extremely expensive equipment to do it. Even as recently as 2016 if you weren’t based in a city you were screwed because remote recording was terrible.

And on that note, no smartphones. Or at least very few smartphones. I’d say by 2011 most people had them but it was still something for rich people at this point. You would take a tiny camera on nights out and then upload all the pictures to your computer.

Social media was rife, but not in the way you know it now. Twitter and Facebook were the big deals, but they had only really started to blossom. Before they it was all about MySpace. People became big on Twitter through being funny and cultured and it was actually really good.

If you were over a British size 14 you could not buy clothes. Online retailers were few and far between - ASOS at this point was still called As Seen On Stars and was making dupes of runway clothing. America WAS more ahead here but due to no globalisation getting clothes delivered to you from the states was a fucking nightmare. I remember trying on Levi’s in the UK and them not getting over my knees (and they were around £100 quid compared to $20, because again, no globalisation)

There were SO many ways to have fun for free. Free galleries, free gigs, stuff for under a fiver. You might have been broke but there were more ways around the system then than there are now.

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egglain · 27 days ago

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Little Yuji’s first Halloween with big brother Choso.

It’s all I want.

I want that man putting his hair up in those little buns and clipping his bangs back— doing the same for the little pink tufts on Yuji’s small head— as he tries (struggles) to carve out the lopsided design his brother drew on with a red sharpie. (Pumpkin innards would be stuck in the cracks of the kitchen tile for weeks).

I want Choso holding Yuji’s hand just a little too tight as he trembles his way through a haunted house— Yuji giggling and lighting up with glee as all sorts of ghosts and ghouls pop out at them.

I want Choso helping Yuji with his costume— drawing on his face with his black eyeliner to get the details just right on his Spiderman facepaint. But, of course, bundling him up in his puffiest coat because it’s cold out.

I want Choso sorting through all Yuji’s candy because he knows that humans are evil, going through each one with the care of a first-time mom. I want Choso baking sweet treats— jello with plastic eyeballs in it, pumpkin-shaped cookies, pies with faces carved into the crust— to make up for all the candy he had to throw out.

I want Yuji asking Choso to put on Nightmare Before Christmas again and again, and Choso downloading all the songs onto his iPod so Yuji can listen all the time. He knows all the lyrics by heart, and even though he doesn’t get the hype quite as much as Yuji seems to, he could never deny another watch through.

He’d be watching Yuji anyways.

#choso kamo #jjk choso #yuji itadori #jjk yuji #jjk itadori #jjk #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #choso and yuji #yuji and choso #itadori yuji

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unhinged-summer-fun · 19 days ago

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common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 18

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

Warnings: hey did u know this slow burn has some smut in it ;)

A/N: dividers by me, many many thanks to @desertbcrnnobody for the beta assist and PetrichorBather for help on the line about shipwrecks <3 y'all r priceless and ily. also, HAPPY 100K BROKEN ON COMMON GROUNDS I DIDN'T THINK WE'D GET THIS FAR

series masterlist

chapter 18: yet hanging in the stars

Qimir drove them east out of the city. Osha never needed to leave the city limits, what with the infrastructure supporting millions of lives that never needed to leave. In fact, Osha never left the city except for the tournaments—she had not attended the funerals following their orphaning, and Mae had stayed with her instead of attending herself.

They didn’t talk about it. At least, Osha didn’t talk about it. She didn’t talk about the frigid, impersonal visits to the frigid, impersonal graveyard where their mothers and two dozen other women were buried alongside them. She didn’t talk about how there was a strange disconnect between her mind knowing they were dead, and not knowing they were laid to rest. Anybody could be lying in a grave if there’s no proof of it.

Mae didn’t talk about the screaming nightmares she suffered for years. Sol certainly didn’t talk about it with them.

In that apartment, silence always spoke louder than anyone who dared break it.

They passed the graveyard as they headed east, and Osha said nothing.

They passed the exit that once stood for almost home, the one that led to a dirt road that would take them to the charred, decrepit husk of what was once a flourishing, colorful homestead.

She still said nothing.

Yet—

The scent-memory of smoke and gasoline lingered.

If her mood was markedly subdued for that stretch of highway, Qimir didn’t comment on it. He didn’t ask her how dinner with Sol and Mae went, but she told him it went fine anyway. Osha didn’t ask him how the drive back from Khofar went, but he told her it went fine as well. According to him, she knew him better than anybody else knew him, but in the moments of silence like this where they were both lost in thought, she could still call him a stranger.

I’m an open book. For you.

It made her questions all the more frustrating. There was some kind of block in her head, some barrier preventing her from just asking about all the confusing things that had been kicking around in her head since—well, since meeting him. Why were you even renting a place out in the middle of nowhere? The fuck is up with Idise? What are you lying to me about? What aren’t you telling me?

Weakly, she supposed whatever answers those questions would yield could only spell disaster for the uneasy relief between them. Why are you complaining? He’s back, isn’t he? Why risk running him off again with the reminders of whatever pushed him away in the first place?

More and more questions, less and less answers.

…spoke a lot of words; I don’t know if I spoke the truth—got so much to lose, got so much to prove… God, don’t let me lose my mind…

“It’s not far,” he said, breaking the quietude that settled like snow even on the soft music from his iPod. “Have you never been out here?”

A loaded question. Osha clicked on the metaphorical safety for her answer. “Not this far, no.”

“The competitions were always more up north, huh?” he said, drifting back to shared (if uncomfortable) territory—the competition circuit.

“Yeah. The comp team is caravaning to Theed tomorrow, so I’ll have four whole days to myself. Kana offered me so many shifts,” she chuckled.

“Four whole days, huh?” he said, eyes flicking briefly to her though his focus remained on the road. “And what are you going to do with all that time to yourself, birthday girl?”

“I was hoping to make it your problem.”

A slow smile crept up his lips as he smirked out through the windscreen. “That so?”

“Is so.” Maybe four whole days will get me to just fucking ask one single question—

“Maybe we should have a sleepover one of those days. While the cats are away, so to speak.”

Her heart leapt in her throat. “A sleepover?”

Instead of clarifying, laughing it off, or any number of deflections, he took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “A sleepover.”

Infuriating man.

She turned the tables on him, bringing his hand to her lips so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. Against the smooth skin there, she murmured, “I can think of a lot of things to do at a sleepover, stranger.”

His eyes burned as they caught her gaze now, and slowly, almost daring—he brought his hand down to rest on Osha’s thigh. It was warm, and huge, and she knew the strength of it from many hours spent in the gym together. He brought her hydroplaning mind back to earth as he squeezed her leg once.

“So can I.”

It felt like all the air in the car had been sucked out with those three little words. She was vaguely aware of her gaping expression, the speechless stupor he’d sent her into with nothing but his hand.

“Is this alright?” he asked, thumb twitching against the outer seam of her jeans.

She nodded dumbly.

“Use your words, Osha,” he teased, voice dropping to depths only known to shipwrecks. He knew what he was doing to her, and she loved it—as much as it flustered her.

She cleared her throat. “It’s alright.”

For the rest of the drive, Osha was aware of little else but his hand—the minute fidgeting, his thumbnail scraping idly over every thick stitch through denim, the gentle flex and tap of his fingers moving in time with whatever song was playing. What little conversation they’d been having had ground to a full fucking stop, now that his hand seemed intent on melting her every thought from the inside out.

If he hadn’t needed to take his hand off of her to do so, she wouldn’t have caught the fact he was exiting off the highway. They went back and forth down a winding, tree-lined road that he drove with the utter confidence of a man who knew where the fuck he was going, despite not using a map or GPS or anything. It made the random-ass stop on a deserted road confusing, however.

“Where are—whoa!” she exclaimed, bracing herself with the handle as he took a right—

Straight into a field.

Qimir only laughed, driving further and further into the field. “Almost the-ere,” he said, sing-song.

“This is absolutely ‘taking the victim to a secondary location’ behavior!” she protested, but laughter bubbled up at just how silly it felt to dip and bump up and down in his little shitbox car. She would never have been able to drive as confidently as he did—not to mention, her cute little two-door sedan would never have made it past the shoulder.

Qimir stopped just as abruptly as he’d plunged them off the road. He hummed, pleased with himself. “We’re here.”

“Where the hell is here?”

He didn’t answer, killing the engine and getting out to get something from the trunk. Osha attempted to put herself to rights, using the mirror on his visor to check her makeup. She regretted the lengths to which she attempted her makeup: if they were going to be in the dark, he couldn’t appreciate it.

You can dress up for yourself, you know.

Medora’s words brought a smile to her face, and she snapped the visor closed before she could convince herself back into regret.

Her door opened. “C’mon,” Qimir said. The light from the car’s interior only shone onto the lower part of his face, leaving his eyes in shadow. He had a few blankets in his arms and a little box she couldn’t readily recognize. Qimir and his weird little machines. She joined him in the cold and dark, offering her hand to share some of the burden. Qimir instead shifted all of his load to one arm and took her hand.

Well then.

They didn’t walk too far from the car. The field he’d driven them into was full of dead grass, rocks, and loose dirt, which made her wonder—“Are there snakes out here?” Osha was suddenly paranoid about the possibility and strained to listen for rattles or hissing. She focused on her footwork, not wanting to lose her new, precious ankle strength to a stray snakehole.

“It’s past deadwinter, but not so far past that the snakes want to hang out.”

“Deadwinter?”

“Have you never heard someone call it that?”

“I’ve heard the dead of winter, but never deadwinter.”

“They mean the same thing: high summer, the height of summer, the middle of summer, midsummer. There are many names to describe the same thing. Haven’t you read any Shakespeare?”

“Only when forced, and like almost ten years ago.”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / by any other name would still smell as sweet.”

“You’re reading me poetry on my birthday?” Osha said, a little flustered by the subtle flex.

Qimir turned to her with a smile she could barely make out. She could only really see the glint of his teeth. “Yes, I am. Poetry from a tragedy, but poetry nonetheless. And in quite the romantic setting, if I say so myself.”

“A frozen field of dead grass and sleeping snakes is romantic to you?”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her, his lips finding hers like iron found a lodestone. Osha briefly forgot about the cold and the snakes and the field. When he’d kissed his fill of her, he tilted her head back with a finger beneath her chin.

The stars stared back at her, beckoning with twinkling lights—so far away, yet within the reach of her gaze. Osha’s jaw dropped open at their brilliance. No wonder he drove them out so far; he wanted to escape the light pollution.

Where would you go?

If I left the city?

Hm.

I don’t know. Somewhere I could see the stars, maybe?

Even the moon was brighter than she’d seen in ages. In the city, she could occasionally see the moon through the smoggy sky—and when she was lucky, she saw a few bright stars. It wasn’t worth looking up when the skies were so disappointing—compared to her childhood memories, at least.

Her mother had taught her the names of the constellations: Orion, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, Cygnus, Taurus, Gemini—that was the one she pointed out first to Qimir. She couldn’t remember many others (and perhaps it wasn’t the right time of year for that anyway) but she would always remember the lesson where she was shown Gemini. One pale, slender hand, pointing into the cosmos, and a lilting, accented voice, saying—

The Twins, like you. The Hunter, Orion, stands guard while they sleep, or perhaps he is following them. What do you think, my love?

“There’s Gemini,” she said, breaking the silence at long last. “Castor and Pollux. The Twins.”

“Which is which?” Qimir asked softly.

“I thought you could tell twins apart,” she smirked, shaking off some of her bewildered awe to tease him.

Qimir pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Only some,” he murmured. “Happy birthday, Osha.”

He’d given her the stars.

Her heart did flips in her chest the entire time they set up, their progress interrupted by the ensorcelling awe of looking up every few seconds—as if she had to constantly remind herself the stars hadn’t moved. The small device he brought with them revealed itself to be a portable space heater, which he set on the tarp and not among the dry, dead grass.

They rolled down onto the pallet together and Osha squeaked when he pulled her whole body against his, deftly maneuvering her how he wished. The ease with which he moved her made her go a little lightheaded with want. Fuck, he can manhandle me anytime he wants. She rested her head against his chest, and he squeezed his hand against her ribs. “One more thing.” He tugged a blanket over them, enclosing them in a cozy, dark warmth that fought against the chill of the elements around them.

“There. Comfy?” he checked.

“Very,” she said, melting into his side. She could hear the steady beat of his heart, and she worried it would carry her to sleep if she wasn’t paying attention.

Nobody had done such a thing for her before. Her birthdays in childhood were full of warmth, bonfires and sweets. But those were celebrations of more than just herself, or even her and her sister. This was a gift solely for her to enjoy, all because he thought she would like it. She didn’t know how much she would like such a gift until she found herself rambling about the stars above, memories of those lessons with her moth unraveling like thread around a spool. What’s more, Qimir listened to her. She was slightly amazed that she remembered as much as she did. But she quietly named individual stars, planets, and constellations until her voice tired out.

“Is your heater gas-powered?” she asked, sniffing a little. “It smells like gasoline.”

He sighed, and it sounded more like he was disappointed—in himself. “No, it’s the blankets. My gas tank has issues, and I kept the blankets in the trunk a little too long; I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said sweetly, trying her best to ignore the scent on the blankets while she continued to speak. “The moon looks so beautiful, doesn’t it?” she asked.

She didn’t know why his heart started racing, but she could practically feel it tapping her cheek. She shifted and turned her head to look down at him.

He looked a bit dumbstruck, though he was just staring up at the stars. He turned his head to look at her, mouth somewhat agape. A shaky breath sawed out of him, nearly a wheezed laugh of disbelief. How strange.

“What?” she laughed.

“I… yes. The moon does look beautiful,” he agreed.

He wasn’t even looking at the moon.

Qimir and his… well. His whole deal.

She told him about her childhood. Her mama taught her to read, write, and do math, but her mother taught her to read things unseen by the eyes: stars, cards, palms, and the like.

Osha told her of the nights they would sit on the roof, naming constellations until the sun chased them all to bed. Osha remembered the way her mother used to look at the stars. It was the same way she looked at her and Mae when she thought they couldn’t see: glowing amber eyes full of all the love and joy she did not often show to them.

“…The compound always had someone casting a spell, performing a ritual, or crafting charms. Unplan kind of reminds me of that time. I haven’t followed the moon phases in almost 20 years, but I love getting to do it again. It was such a beautiful place to grow up. Women weaving at looms, countless voices harmonizing in songs, laughing with one another. I didn’t know any of that was weird or other back then. I didn’t know it was strange until Sol—” A sudden wave of sadness crashed over her, and the happy memory she’d been holding onto began to slip from her grasp. “I just thought—yeah, this is normal. Home was always more like… a coven, than a—”

Well. The newspapers had called it a cult.

All at once, the atmosphere changed. She could feel the cold again, and the sticky-uncomfortable sweat that had crept beneath her socks and her arms. The invading silence threatened to stretch on forever, but—

“They were your family,” Qimir said, offering an escape from her sudden despair.

But Osha couldn’t grasp that lifeline again. She tried to hide the single tear that slipped from her eye, but Qimir was too close not to catch it. “Are you alright?” he murmured.

She nodded, sniffling a little. “I think Mae had a point, seeing their graves earlier this week.” She swallowed down the growing thickness in her throat. “We lost them when we were 10. The summer after we turned 20, I think I could feel that I’d lived more of my life without them than with them. But we didn’t… we don’t talk about them. That’s why it was so shocking to me that she went at all. It’s just not something we do—we’ve never talked about what happened, not really.”

He hummed softly, a noise of understanding. “You can talk to me anytime you want, you know,” he said.

She snuggled in closer. “I know,” she said.

More silence passed, and the pressure in Osha’s heart built and built. The stars now looked a little dimmer overhead. If she let herself think how she used to, she could imagine they were giving them privacy.

The stars look back upon you as well, her mother had told her. The lucky stars only shine on the ones who see their light. These are the eyes of the ones we grieve. When I die, I shall be among them, looking down and watching over you and your sister. So look up, Osha. Look up.

Her heart ached with the effort of holding back her pain. A part of her still felt ashamed to grieve her mothers, to miss them at all. She’d gained a father from the deaths of her mothers, and Sol tried his best to fill in the gaps in her jagged, broken heart. Mae always seemed fine, connecting to Sol much easier than she had. It felt like, for that week she was in the hospital, Mae had completely rebounded from the life they lost—and from all the lives lost.

Sol had never adequately filled the hole in her heart where her mothers had been ripped away. She no longer had that warmth and togetherness she remembered from her birthdays in the beautiful, resplendent Before. All she’d been offered after was cold money and colder crystal—just the memory of what used to be.

Qimir held her while she cried into his shoulder, arms coming up to hide her from the universe where nobody could see her, not even the stars—hidden from her mothers, eternally waiting for her to look up. She sobbed against him, setting free out a flood of long-imprisoned emotions until her voice sounded as raw as she felt.

He did not shy away from her feelings. He did not flinch from her tears as Vernestra had. He did not run from her grief as Sol did. He did not find her emotions daunting or intimidating, as Mae did. But their fear did not mean she needed to change for their comfort. Osha felt her emotions so deeply. They were like a trench dug in her heart, their depths so dark and overwhelming that she’d only ever felt loneliness at the bottom of it all.

I promised myself I would never love someone who wasn’t willing to go as deep as I can.

A peek at Qimir showed a sight she never thought she’d see: tears on his face, illuminated by starlight above. His face was pained, but not from anything physical—it wasn’t the mask she remembered from training. This was an emotional pain, one she remembered from that first day in his apartment when he told her about his childhood. She remembered seeing him like this when dancing, asking him a question to which she knew the answer in her heart. His physical agony protected the broken heart it stemmed from, because this was a pain he couldn’t massage or numb away.

Because she knew that pain, she pressed their faces together, not in a kiss but in comfort, giving and taking. Their faces were wet and cold despite the warmth of the space between them. He brought his other arm up to wrap around her, crushing their bodies together as they quietly wept. Even as she wondered what he cried for, she felt a lot less lonely at the bottom of that trench in her heart.

A realization came like a bolt from the blue, a secret whispered from her heart to her ear.

You love him.

It was at once the heaviest and lightest secret she ever held, for it squirmed and thrashed from her heart in a desperate bid to be shared with him. Her mind caught it behind the bars of not the right time and it’s too soon to say it. Whatever delicate balance that kept them together, she didn’t think it could weather her whispering those three words right now.

I love you was a struck match. Attraction, glances, touches, kisses—those things were sparks, either catching heartstrings on fire or failing in a cough of smoke. Some hearts were made of kindling, ready for the match and burning bright and fast; other hearts were made of stubborn, damp timber. But hearts and hearths alike needed tending, feeding to burn through the darkest, coldest nights.

Osha knew the only warmth those words would bring now would be something akin to heartburn.

When they pulled back, eyes still glittering with unshed tears and unspoken things, she quietly thumbed away the tears on his face. He did the same for her, reverence in his starlit gaze as he fulfilled his duty. When he finished, he leaned down to kiss her lips, a soft thing that tasted of salt and starlight. The wave of grief had passed, and the storm was kept at bay another night.

For the first time, she didn’t feel the overwhelming need to apologize for crying.

She kissed him again, deeper. Their passion and heat charged in like a cavalry, decimating the lingering despair—at least while they touched. Osha wasn’t foolish enough to think her stranger’s affection would fully heal those broken pieces; especially if her own family hadn’t done so. But perhaps, with him, she could let him shore up the sides of her strength while she healed those sharp points herself.

His hands were warm against her face, and she brought her own hands down to push under his t-shirt. She was going to kiss him again when her hands touched the smooth skin of his abdomen, but he jolted suddenly, making a noise of surprise. She didn’t draw back, peering closer at his suddenly very-neutral expression. “Are you… ticklish, stranger?”

He scowled—no, that was another pout. “No, your hands are just blocks of ice,” he protested.

“No, they’re not.” She put her hands back on the trim, muscled sides of his torso and he squirmed back—“Look at you slithering! There are snakes out here! Ticklish snakes!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking ab-out—!”

She pounced. It was much the same position as he’d gotten her in, nights and nights ago, up in his dressing room. Her hands pinned his shoulders to the blanket, and her hips drove between his thighs to keep him where she wanted him. Qimir’s eyes widened, the struggle draining from him for several long, stunned seconds.

She’d taken him off guard. He looked just as surprised as she was.

Then, his jaw set and his hands came up to knock at hers.

The brief scramble for purchase was riddled with laughter and light, the stars’ brightness returning to the sky as they grappled on the blanket. He eventually got the upper hand—because she let him.

Osha landed against the blanket with an oof—it wasn’t as soft a landing as the wrestling mats at Unknown Planet. He had her pinned with one hand splayed wide against her chest, the other hand locked around her hip to keep her in place. Looming over her, he kept her locked in a hold she probably couldn’t have broken even if she wanted to. He breathed a little hard, but the feral smile on his face spoke wonders about all those naughty things he wanted to do with her.

Hello, Smiley.

Osha grinned sharply back at him, drawing her free leg up, up, up against his. She didn’t have the angle, strength, or want to flip the script on him, but she could distract him. She could shift the tides from here. Leveraging the only emotion that consistently overtook him in the ring, she ground her hips up against him. That emotion?

Pure, unfiltered desire.

He shuddered at the move, eyes closing as he gave into the feeling for a few indulgent seconds. He was hard; she could feel the burning heat of him against her inner thigh. When she sought to take more ground, he reinforced his pin on her. His eyes blazed hot as he glared down at her. “You know, Unplan doesn’t like this kind of fighting. Kind of obscene, don’t you think?”

“I thought you wanted to fight however you wanted.” She rolled her hips again. “Maybe I do, too.” She was openly tempting fate—and him.

She wondered which was more powerful.

He smirked. She could practically hear him speaking directly into her mind—you’re playing with fire, Osha. She returned his gaze with a relaxed come-hither look.

To her disappointment, he released her, letting the air surge in between their heated bodies in a shock of cold.

“What?” she whined, pouting. She couldn’t free her hands to paw at him to get him to return, but she struggled against him.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time in a freezing cold field.”

Despite the furious heat that ignited in her face at the idea, she begrudgingly understood. “But we’re under the stars,” she protested anyway. And we don’t have to go all the way…

“Let’s raincheck the under-the-stars sex for spring; how’s that sound.” He sat back on his knees and helped her to sit up. Qimir rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed and calming his breathing—and perhaps, his dick. When she finally did the same, he said, “We’ve been out here for a few hours, and it’s only going to get colder. Let’s head back.”

Mae had texted her while they’d been stargazing.

M: Sol passed out on our couch before I left lol

M: I’m stayin somewhere else tonight

O: Yikes

Hm. A sleepover sounded more and more appealing right about now.

O: I might do the same

Mae returned Osha’s message instantly, which made her cringe. She’d probably been waiting for a reply since she sent it two hours ago.

M: Probably a good idea, even if you ARE getting out of hungover Sol duty

M: He said some weird shit before he passed out but it just sounded like he wanted to talk to us

O: Sol wtf??

O: Did u find out why?

M: No, but I can try to ask when we’re in Theed

M: Are you still with you know who?

O: Tell me who ur staying the night with and I’ll tell u

Mae’s little ‘Typing…’ bubble appeared, then disappeared. Osha could imagine her pouting.

M: Jecki

O: I KNEW IT OMGGGG

M: SHHHHH

M: It’s only practical I mean we’re driving to Theed together tomorrow adfjksjdhfsd

O: Suuuuuuuuure Mae suuuuuure

A few seconds passed without messages, and Osha knew she had to fulfill her end of the deal. But tonight had been so magical, she couldn’t bring herself to hide it from her sister.

O: I may be staying the night with him

O: I need to ask tho

She added one more thing, feeling oddly vulnerable while she did.

O: He took me stargazing

M: NO FUCKING WAY

Mae immediately tried to unsend her message, but Osha had already taken a hundred screenshots, cackling like the witches she was raised by. Osha teased her about breaking her three-year streak of not swearing, talking about framing that screenshot. They conversed mainly in emoji after that, teasing one another how they used to.

Osha knew things weren’t square between them. Mae was still extremely wary of Qimir even though she seemed… open to Osha seeing him. Qimir felt similarly about Mae, but based on his reactions to Osha’s reservations about granting forgiveness, he must have felt guilty about playing a part in the tension between the sisters. This birthday armistice had been nice, but Osha knew it would most likely end by morning.

She sighed and set down her phone after wishing Mae a good night. Her soul felt contented for the first time in a very long time.

“Everything alright?” Qimir asked, settling his hand back on her thigh now that they were back on the highway—heading west, outrunning the sunrise.

“Yeah, I just don’t wanna deal with my hungover dad when I get back.”

“What?” he said, concerned.

“Yeah, Mae said he celebrated our birthday too hard and passed out on our couch. But Mae left to hang out with her girlfriend so I’m stuck on drunk dad duty. And I totally knew Jecki was her girlfriend even though she didn’t say anything. I feel so vindicated.”

Her attempts at brushing past the uncomfortable parts of her story were met with tense silence, and her heart dropped. Qimir flexed his fingers over the steering wheel. “Does he do that a lot?” he asked softly.

The serious concern in his tone made her cringe. She made herself laugh, pushing levity into the air. “No, it’s not like—well, it’s not super often. We just—we always joke that for as much as Sol’s a welterweight, he’s outclassed against Mae’s mulled wine.”

No, they didn’t. Why would someone joke about that?

Qimir nodded tightly, and she felt her face go a little hot, blood going acidic with shame. The familiar words needed to defend Sol rose in her mouth like bile, but she didn’t spit them out like she’d done a hundred times before. It was probably good that she did—until Osha knew where Sol fit into everything, she didn’t want to praise him around Qimir. He was reacting a little strongly to her news, very tense and still and quiet about it. For all she knew, Sol was the one who—

No, don’t even imagine that, Osha.

Qimir was saying something.

“What?”

“I said, if that’s the case, you can stay the night at my place.”

I’m not fucking you for the first time in a freezing cold field, he’d said. And his apartment was certainly not freezing cold…

Her lips curled into a very self-satisfied grin. “Like a sleepover?”

“To sleep,” Qimir chuckled, knowing just where her mind had gone.

“But it’s my birthday,” she pouted, knowing she was being childish.

“You’re right, it is,” he said flatly. “For the next… fourteen minutes.”

The horny part of her brain that she’d recently allowed out on parole started rioting in the streets of her mind. NO!!!! He wants to sleep with you but in the WRONG WAY!!

A quick check-in with her body told her she was growing pretty tired—and he drove all the way here from Khofar earlier today, she reminded herself.

“Do you want me to stay the night?” she asked.

The hand on her thigh flexed a little, as if he was keeping his hand from grabbing her impulsively. “I do,” he said, voice gone a little low—louder than he’d been speaking before.

“Then I would love to stay over. Thank you for offering.”

His hand grabbed hers to kiss her knuckles briefly before returning to its post on her thigh. She relaxed, and smiled for the rest of the drive back.

She took a step toward the trunk after they parked. “I can carry the blankets up,” she offered.

He waved her off, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. They can survive another night in the trunk.”

The walk to his apartment felt too similar to the last time she’d been there—three days ago, pacing the hall and wondering where he’d gone. Osha swallowed down the memory as he let them in.

The soft lamplight held a similar cozy glow as the stars, though not as cold and distant. This was a comfort she could touch, a relief within reach. She sat on his couch beside him as they took off their shoes, and he put them by the door along with their coats. Her heart did flips as she wondered repeatedly—is this where he drops the act? Is this where he comes out behind the door and grabs me in a passionate fervor and tosses me on the bed and tears my clothes off like a fierce conqueror indulging in the spoils of—

He returned bearing a few things—a shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and a sheepish expression. “I’m a bit short on actual pajamas, but I hope these will do.”

No spoils of war this time, huh.

She zipped into the bathroom to change, schooling her wanton imagination at least for now. Like they did at Unplan, she kept the door cracked so they could talk if they wanted. But the energy here was much more charged than it was in Unplan, and it kept her from actually speaking as she disrobed.

What would happen if I just walked out there in nothing but my underwear? a reckless part of her posited.

Surely, nothing good. But perhaps… something great.

The demons were winning this war against her self-control, but in the end, she did not do any of those depraved things she’d been thinking about. I deserve a medal.

He was in a deep spine stretch that even Osha probably couldn’t reach, despite her lifelong devotion to flexibility. Oh yeah. Nighttime stretches. There will be no warrior-maiden roleplay this evening. Bummer.

She had the perfect vantage point of him as he looked up and went preternaturally still. He didn’t even seem to breathe as his eyes raked across her body, taking in every inch of her as she moved closer. She settled before him and folded herself into a similar pose, holding eye contact as she wordlessly fell into her usual nighttime stretching routine.

He broke her gaze, and Osha caught the sliver of his smile a moment before he hid it in his stretch.

It felt unspeakably intimate, like sharing a sacred ritual only ever performed in private. The only noises were their breathing, the soft shift of fabric, and the brief slide of skin against skin. At some point, their breathing synced up, inhales matching exhales. Their internal clocks lined up such that they switched sides simultaneously without even speaking.

His routine was slightly longer than her own, but not overly so. Since he’d gotten a head start on her, they finished around the same time, two bodies laying beside one another in corpse pose. What a false term for such a serene position—especially when Osha had never felt so alive.

His hand brushed hers, probably a signal to sit up, but she laced her fingers with his instead. He didn’t miss a beat, squeezing her hand once and rolling to a seated position. She followed suit, though she liked the view of him slightly above her.

Her suppositions from before had been correct. He looked tired, the hours of the day weighing on his face.

“Sleepy?” she asked.

He nodded. Osha brought his hand to her lap to lightly trace it with her fingertips. She marveled at how his bones turned smooth skin into bodily geography—knuckles making mountains and valleys, tendons in the back of his drawing lines like tilled earth all the way to his wrist, where soft blue veins carved rivers of blood in toward his heart and back again. A whole world upon his hand, and only she could see it, touch it.

He probably knew the anatomical names for every part of him she touched. He’d been trained to see the hand for its anatomy, for its limits and its functions. Osha had spent her childhood reading hands like divinity had whispered secrets into every dip, valley, ridge, and whorl.

I wonder if I still got it, she thought. How much her palmistry knowledge had been lost to fire and tragedy?

His palm told the story of a man riddled by betrayal and loneliness, his strength forged not in fire but by storms weathered. His soul was well-rooted, grounded in reality, not ambition, so spake his hand. What goals he had would be achieved, come hell or high water. She’d done this before, once—speaking with him in his office. Mount of Venus, heart line, fate line, life line. His heart started jagged but faint, and strengthened by degrees across his palm. His fate split in two early on, but skipped back to the same line after some time—and again, and again, and again. And his—

“What does my hand say?”

His voice broke the quiet like a spoon on burnt sugar. His fatigued smile still showed interest in her.

She’d read him the stars earlier, and she would have gladly read him his palm and his fortune, but perhaps first… a bit of mischief.

Osha bit back her grin and bent over his hand, rubbing her thumbs across the ridges and callouses. He held still, obedient despite her giving no orders. She hummed like she was deeply considering the quandary before her. She looked up, serious as the grave, and said, “It says you masturbate with this hand.”

His jaw went slack and a blush bloomed high in his cheeks before he laughed, probably too loud for this time of night. He sucked a breath in to possibly speak, but no words came out—only more peals of laughter. He didn’t move his hand from her hold, not even as he tossed his head back to laugh some more. Osha joined him, giggling over the joke.

In middle school, it had gotten out that she and Mae were raised by a cult of witches in the boonies. Mae had denounced it quite publicly, saying she didn’t believe in all that.

(Osha knew better. Osha remembered how her sister earnestly bowed her head at the spells, moved with intention through forms, and assisted in moon rituals and holidays on the Wheel. Osha remembered when they were almost worshiped by the other women. Osha remembered that Mae liked it. Mae just liked being liked, and people liked you better when you weren’t weird. Osha never learned that lesson.)

But Osha had responded to the bullying in a different way. She could never block out the scorn or the teasing jokes, and she allowed it to incense her to the point where she could deftly shift the embarrassment back on her antagonizers. Osha had a million comebacks for every person who sought to ridicule the faith practices they were raised on: The cards told me your parents don’t love you. All the stars and planets have aligned to whisper a truth: you fucking suck. You masturbate with this hand. It earned her a reputation as someone not to be messed with, and she wore it proudly, even though it isolated her further from her peers.

But Qimir wasn’t a bully wheedling for her to read her fortune just to laugh at her. Qimir was playful, Qimir was fun. Qimir liked her jokes and made her feel like she could be herself again. He even made her feel a sliver of that worship that once made her uncomfortable—but not now.

“Your face—!” she laughed, nearly tipping to the side while Qimir gathered himself again.

“And you accuse me of playing with my food,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “You loved that.”

Shameless, she smiled. “Yes, I did.”

They soon lay on opposite sides of his bed. To sleep, he’d said. Insisted, really. The earlier laughter made it easier to stay on target, but when they were settled in, and the lights went out, all that potential for nighttime activities returned with hurricane force, battering against a crumbling sea wall of self-control. Osha swallowed, staring up at the darkness and chewing on her lip.

“For the record, your hand said you’d live a very long, healthy life,” she said, nerves coloring her voice. She couldn’t bring herself to say much else, let alone the things she’d actually read and felt. “I’m a bit rusty, though. You could die tomorrow, and it’s your hand’s fault.”

That selfsame hand came to wrap around one of hers, prying her fingers open from the claw they’d made around the comforter. Osha forced herself to relax, focusing on her breathing and her heart rate. He didn’t remark on her hasty words, and was quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep. Just as she was about to doze off, he spoke.

“For the record, your original reading was accurate anyway.”

The noise Osha made wasn’t remotely human.

“Good night, Osha.”

Her senses awoke one by one—first, the smell of breakfast and coffee. Second, the sound of someone cooking said breakfast. Third—

God damn it, Qimir is not allowed to be that sexy first thing when I wake up.

She snuggled in closer to the pillow beneath her head to watch him work in comfort, hiding half her face beneath the covers. He’d opened the curtains over some of his windows for once, letting in the pale winter sunlight. It made him look like a carved marble statue come to life, leeched of his actual skin color but resplendent and perfect nonetheless.

His scar didn’t snag her gaze the way it had the first couple of times she’d seen him shirtless. It was part of him, a part of him that wouldn’t go away—the same as her scars. And she loved it just the same.

God, so I really do love him, don’t I? she thought to herself.

As if sensing her thoughts about him, he turned to look back over his shoulder. He had no shirt on, but… he’d put on his glasses? What the fuck, nerdy fantasies. There was a soft clatter as he set the pans to the side. Then, he set his sights on a new focus: her, awake. He was by her side in three long strides, and parked his ass right next to her on the bed.

Up close, his handsomeness was lethal. His hair fell loose around his face, still mussed on one side. Bedhead. “Good morning,” he said, resting one hand on her hip. He gently tugged the covers off her face when she didn’t readily respond.

She was still in that warm, hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, gaping at his (quite honestly) illegal I-woke-up-like-this hotness. He tilted his head to the side, inky black hair brushing over his stupid, broad shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes drifting off her face and down her body like he could X-ray image her through the covers.

“I’m okay!” she said, squeaking and moving to sit up too fast. She smacked her head against the wood headboard—“Fuuuuck!”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, helping her ease away from the headboard and guiding her to a seated position. His eyes had taken on a more serious glint.

Hello, Coach Lo will see you now.

Even his voice had dropped to that authoritative pitch. “That sounded like it h—”

“You’re too hot to be doing this right now,” she complained, interrupting him. “See? I have a concussion now.”

“H-how does that correlate?” he asked, voice gone a little high.

“Because you’re too goddamn pretty it breaks my brain,” she said flatly.

That same precious pink blush from the night before flared across his cheekbones. Osha reveled in how deeply she could fluster him. She was used to rattling his composure, just a shake of the bars on his self-made cage here and there. This wasn’t really rattling—this was something else, something that touched a little deeper than he thought someone could reach.

“I don’t—you. You’re beautiful,” he stammered.

His bashfulness was adorable. It was a marvel that he could ever step into the ring against another fighter, if he was so affected by something so terrifying as flattery.

“Yeah, well, who’s concussed?” she finally said, breath leaving her in a nervous tremble.

“You’re not concussed,” he laughed.

“You don’t know that,” she pouted.

He raised one eyebrow. “I’ve got a doctorate that says otherwise.”

“Do your athletes ever call you Doctor Loharne?” she said, holding onto the subject shift with both hands.

“Well, I’m a DPT, only MDs really get called Doctor.”

Pouting, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Semantics.”

He grasped her chin lightly between his fingertips, turning her face back to him in an aching, heart-stopping, knee-weakening gesture that stole her breath. “Follow my finger with your eyes,” he said, mock-serious. She was helpless but to follow his orders, playing along. “Hmm, pupils responding normally, if a bit dilated,” he smirked. “Do you know where you are?”

“Your apartment,” she scoffed, fighting back her smile.

“Where’d we go last night?”

“A random field off of ’77.”

“What’s your name?”

“Osha Aniseya.”

“And who am I?”

“You’re mine.”

His jaw dropped, allowing a startled breath to trip out of his lungs. His eyes went wide, but his blinks looked like he was forcing himself to do so. He looked seconds from pinching himself.

“Was that not the answer you were expecting?” she teased.

He fell toward her, leaning in to kiss her like a prince waking a princess—

Okay, warrior-maiden roleplay is back.

He moved his legs up to straddle over top of her, pinning her mostly beneath the covers as he kissed her. Still just in sweats, her hands yearned to touch him, greedy in a way she wasn’t used to. His lips moved smoothly over hers, but the sheer excitement and eagerness in his kisses belied his more affected nature.

He’d been feeling more around her—not only feeling, but showing her those feelings, too. His want, his desire, his affection. They were all there, but it was only recently that he made a choice to let her in on the secret. And knowing all this, she shared her secrets back. Osha moaned into his mouth, wrenching her hands free from their bedding prison so she could grab at him how she wanted.

It made his arms fucking buckle, the first time she dragged her nails over his shoulders. He pressed almost his full weight against her, his body rolling it into a smooth press against her. They were nearly flush, hip-to-hip and mouth-to-mouth at the bare minimum. And he was hungry. His lips found her mouth, her jaw, and her neck to nibble and bite and suck on. Osha gasped up at the ceiling, sensation sparking down her spine as heat pooled between her legs so quickly she would have swooned if she was standing.

He wasn’t disaffected by the closeness, either. As before, last night beneath the stars, he was hard against her, but instead of drawing back, he rolled his hips foward, joining her. He felt nearly searching, tentative as he felt out her comfort level with his.

That level was fucking high.

“Get off the sheets,” she mumbled, practically kicking them down and off of her. His dark chuckle, low and husky, accompanied her victory. Qimir kissed her again, settling between her thighs with an indulgent groan.

“Fuck, you already feel so good,” he sighed, breathing the words against her neck. He withdrew only a few inches, enough to see her eyes. His hands went to her hips, gripping them before hauling her halfway into his lap.

Osha’s mind shorted out as his erection pressed right against her clit—just a few swishy layers of fabric between them. But he didn’t move, waiting for her response. She considered their bodies, biting her lip and delighting in the swollen, tingling feeling he’d left her with. Whatever conscious consideration went into the glint of determination in her eyes, she hoped it was enough for him to continue.

Apparently it was as he continued to rock his hips forward. The entire searing length of him dragged over the second-best place it could, all told. She feared she’d burn beneath his touch if there were any fewer clothes between them. He pressed his face into her neck, mouthing and kissing over the spots that made her moan, and biting at the places that had her hips kicking up against his in helpless pleasure.

Time felt sticky, unimportant between them. They were racing for an end she couldn’t see but could feel fast approaching. Qimir’s bulk blocked out the majority of her vision when he rose onto his elbows above her. He didn’t speak, only looking down at her. His teeth glinted white behind the dark red flush in his parted lips. The expectation in her mind curled into confusion the longer he moved without speaking—and then her insides did a flip when she realized:

He wants to watch me come.

It felt like the breath was punched out of her, her body almost jolting at the next roll of his hips against her. How did he know? How did he know she could come just like this, with him pressed against her? Perhaps it was just how worked up he’d gotten her, perhaps it was the stars aligning for that perfect, perfect friction—whatever it was, he was confident about how this was going to go.

Her nails dug into his upper biceps, and her body went limp and pliant for him. Do as you will, the move said. I’m yours. At that thought, she whispered, “You’re mine.”

Qimir’s groan sounded almost painful, and she felt his cock twitch against her through his shorts. His movements hastened, and what control she had over her sanity was quickly jettisoned off the face of the earth. A soft whine escaped her mouth, and she strained not to writhe and ruin the perfect thing he was giving her. A garbled whimper of his name had him sinking to press his forehead against hers, eyes still boring holes into her soul.

Just like that, she was there. Her legs couldn’t snap closed against the onslaught of white-hot pleasure, wrapped around his hips as they were. She fought to keep her eyes open for him, but they kept fluttering closed until a new wave of pleasure crashed over her. She felt fucking possessed, haunted by need and feeling and more—

And he was talking, she realized.

“—that’s it, just take it, come for me, Osha. C’mon, baby,” he groaned softly, practically whispering as to not speak over the desperate noises he was pulling from her. “So beautiful like this, go ahead, ride it out, use me just like that—”

Another whine of his name had him snapping back to attention and out of the pleasured haze he’d been drifting in. “Want you to—” she could only get a few words out before he kissed her, hard.

“You want me to come for you like this?” he breathed, practically speaking into her mouth.

She nodded, their teeth clacking together a little as she struggled to kiss him back. “Can you?” she asked.

His breath hitched and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep inhale through his nose. He gave a quick, jerky nod before checking on her again, that is this what you want am I what you want vulnerability shining through.

She brought a hand to the back of his head, twining her fingers into his hair and keeping him here with her, in the moment. “Let me see you,” she whispered, weakly rolling her hips up against him. The overstimulation was fast approaching, sparks blowing closer to dry grass.

His face flushed red as he gave a shaky little thrust against her, nerves driving him until desire took the reins once again. And then he was there, that leashed, monstrous want he kept behind his ribs.

Hello, there, her smirk said to it.

When he realized she wasn’t going to flinch or shy away from him, he pressed harder against her, a firm and claiming weight that had her almost concerned she’d come again, just watching him chase his orgasm. Soft, needy whines escaped on the tail of his every harsh exhale, primal and thrilling and everything she ever wanted.

You love him, she was unhelpfully reminded.

She drove the soul-deep feelings away, focusing on him. Osha tugged at the root of his hair, where it wouldn’t hurt but it’d burn. The noise he made was unforgettable, echoing sharply in the cavernous apartment. It heralded his peak, and he gave two, three sharp thrusts before he gritted his teeth and rode out his orgasm. He looked nearly in pain as he came, the muscles in his neck and shoulders straining beneath her touch. It grew hotter, wetter between them, the warmth seeping into not just their clothes but every fucking inch of her.

He was shaking, frozen still as he tried to put the pieces of his mind back together. She gently rolled him off her, just to the side but still touching. He ducked his face into her shoulder, hardly possessing the capacity to kiss her—so instead, he just pressed his face there.

Their breaths evened out, neither forcing calm between them as they came down from the madness. When he lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes still looked hazy, but the sated, happy smile on his lips made her heart soar.

“Hello,” she said softly, pushing back the hair that had fallen in his eyes.

“‘Lo,” he slurred. God, she felt like she was glowing.

“Hi,” she laughed.

His eyes filled with that I’m gonna kiss you now look. “Hi,” he mumbled, leaning in—

The smoke detector objected. He froze, just a half-inch from her lips.

“God fucking damn it—” he growled, eyes sliding to the side like he could glare the shrill beeping away. Stubbornly, he finished what he was going to do and kissed her anyway, deep and filthy and hot. Despite the passion, it made her laugh in delight the moment he ripped himself away from her.

She had to keep herself from depravedly watching his lower half as he snapped the range dials off and searched for a tea towel. The smoke detector sang the song of its people, and Osha could only continue laughing at the circus unfolding before her.

Qimir leveled a baleful (but playful) glare in her direction as he waved a towel around, but when the apartment went blissfully quiet, he dropped the scowl in favor of a smile.

“Excellent work, Coach Lo,” she said, her voice only a little shaky from the draining adrenaline of their previous activities. She’d intended the remark to tease, but it had a much different effect on him than she planned for.

Even from the bed, she could see his eyes darken again, how they’d done when she pulled on his hair. Qimir rolled his shoulders back and breathed out—very slowly. At the very end of his exhale, he tilted his head, considering her with amusement and no small amount of caution. His fingers tapped, fidgeting, against the counter where he’d pressed his hands flat atop them.

“What?” she asked, less nervous than delighted.

“I just didn’t know how much I’d like hearing you call me that.”

Oh.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Shit. That was out loud.

“Um. Do you need help with breakfast?” she asked, getting to her feet finally. She was surprised she could even goddamn walk, as relatively tame as they’d been. Her legs still felt like jelly.

He looked over his shoulder at the pan. “It can be salvaged, but…” his gaze looked down at something hiding behind the counter. Osha’s face flushed.

“You clean up, I’ll plate,” she said, approaching him with that same amusement-caution cocktail he was sipping at.

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before brushing by her to do just that.

He was right; breakfast was salvageable, and she joined him after her turn in his bathroom. The atmosphere was relaxed and perfect, the afterglow of shared pleasure and tangled sheets still radiant in their skin.

Breakfast conversation followed that same kind of feeling, mild and a little sleepy in places as they woke up for real this time. It was incredible, how an orgasm could push away the mountain of questions that threatened to crush any contentment they felt.

As if knowing she wasn’t thinking about it, all those unspoken, unasked things slammed back into her. This time, he caught her sudden pensiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, the hint of nervousness in his voice drawing her back in. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret me? Do you not want me? All those questions lingered in his eyes.

She took his hand. “You’re fine,” she assured him, kissing his knuckles.

“Something’s the matter, though. That’s your something’s the matter face.”

She sighed. Maybe it was naive of her to think she could stave off the questions and uncomfortable topics forever, even if this moment was perfect. With enough time, those topics would make it so there was never a perfect moment again. The last week itself was enough to have her buckle under the stress—from Indara’s conversation in the storage closet he used to live in, to the questions she had about the fight two months back, to Qimir’s disappearance.

Not to mention Idise.

She didn’t want me to find and follow him.

She had a lot to say, a lot to ask, and she had to start somewhere.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “So Idise was at the Temple.”

CHAPTER 19

A bit of post-script:

The song referenced is Trouble by Cage the Elephant

Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare is referenced twice which is really an exercise in restraint for me as the first draft had FIVE (5) references: the title, yet hanging in the stars, is at 1.4.105; and the what's in a name soliloquy is at 2.2.46-47

also formatting the texts for tumblr is equal parts so much fun and such a hassle i hope someone out there enjoys them

#unhingery #common grounds #osha x qimir #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

chiarrara · 8 months ago

Text

the authentic 2011 indie kid playlist

"real 2011 pandora radio recreation: the songs that always played on my hypercurated matt and kim radio, is this it radio, and pumped up kicks radio a.k.a. the authentic 2009-2012 indie kid playlist (ft. my actual authentic 2011 facebook profile pic)"

including full liner notes (typed out below the cut for readability):

- for @justrustandstardust <3

Daylight - Matt and Kim: one of the most iconic songs of my teenage years. I feel like me and Michael based our life off this song. Matt and Kim is one of the bases for the radio stations I picked for this playlist (the ones I listened to constantly). There will be more Matt and Kim on this playlist, but not enough. You really should listen to this whole album (this will not be the last time I say this)

Kids - MGMT: everyone knows electric feel. I picked the underrated classics I was obsessed with after I loved electric feel

Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros: a staple. so silly, but so iconic

Midnight City - M83: the first of the songs that I only listened to on Pandora & never learned the names/artists. also, became car commercial songs. banger

Is This It - The Strokes: you simply must listen to this album. half of it is on the playlist, but still you must. This album is the second base of a radio station.

Automatic Stop - The Strokes: listen, there's gonna be a lot of Strokes on this playlist. I fell in love with them listening to this radio station.

Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second - STRFKR: the second of the Pandora exclusives. why is it named that? so iconin

Float On - Modest Mouse: as classic as classics get

Hard to Explain - The Strokes: I found this album at the library and picked it up based on the album art alone. this was back when I got all my music from the library & burned cds onto my computer to make mix cds, listen in windows media player, or upload to my ipod nano

Flourescent Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys: we're in the pre "AM" era! their back catalog is so fucking good, and this is one of the best examples of that. I love this song

Soma - The Strokes: it's gonna be a lot of Strokes. trust me, it's authentic to the experience

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand: ICONIC BANGER.

Breezeblocks - alt-J: (so groovy) another Pandora exclusive. mainstay on the channel. like these songs would play every 30 mins & I loved it

Song For No One - Miike Snow: ah! Miike Snow my beloved! never listened outside of Pandora for some reason but SO iconic. they were so popular

Loud Pipes - Ratatat: the beat just gets into your body with these ones

Shut Up and Let Me Go - The Ting Tings: Icons! defined the era. watch the music video.

1901 - Phoenix: we played this and the next Phoenix song so. fucking. much. goin hey hey hey hey hey hey hey!

40 Day Dream - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros: when you thought of indie, this is what you thought of

Skinny Love - Bon Iver: jk jk this is what you thought of. This was hipster before it got picked up by Hot Topic

Good Ol' Fashion Nightmare - Matt and Kim: full volume, windows down, 100 mph screaming <3 (I love this song sm)

Intro - The xx: another Pandora exclusive car commercial song but listen, I was obsessed. hearing these songs again is like waking up dormant genes

Lisztomainia - Phoenix: this song and 1901 are a bonded pair. do not separate.

Lessons Learned - Matt and Kim: it was so impossible to pick from this album it's all so good. let it turn your love into a coming of age movie

Sleeping Lessons - The Shins: The SHINS bro THE SHINS. every indie movie had the Shins on their soundtrack. They're so good.

Here (In Your Arms) - Hellogoodbye: listen I didn't want to pick their most popular song but it's so definitive I had to. I saw them live like 4 times. This album is so important to me. All my love songs for my 13 yr old relationship came from this album

Crystalised - The xx: not a listening session would go by that I wouldn't hear this song

All My Friends - LCD Sound System: he's so good

Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend: THIS ALBUM IS SUMMER 2011. it was one of 2 or 3 go to CDs in my first car. I listened to it over and over and over again. it always brings me back to my ugly brown 2001 Chevy Malibu outside Michael's house, or driving down to the lake. I seriously couldn't pick songs from this album it's all one big song to me. formative. what else can i say.

Time to Pretend - MGMT: I'm feeling rough I'm feeling wrong in the time of my life. underrated classic

Cough Syrup - Young the Giant: a late addition but I know every word

Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear: THE Pandora radio song. I would listen just to hear this song eventually

We Used to Vacation - Cold War Kids: One of my favorite bands ever. Their first two albums were on repeat. This song is my favorite. It just rips something out of me

Rhinemaidens - The Envy Corps: The Envy Corps have made their entrance! I've seen them more than Hellogoodbye. The epitomal hipsters. and some of the best music of all time. They're absolutely foundational. (listen to the album!)

Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People: The third and final base for a radio station is this song. That's how much I listened to it. One of those songs that just got into my bones. Forever favorite song it never gets old. also, listen to the album. so good

Animal - Miike Snow: the Miike Snow song. One of the first songs I ever discovered on Pandora <3

Young Folks - Peter Bjorn and John: iconic. I don't know what to say

The High Road - Broken Bells: Michael was on the hs radio station senior year & he played this whole EP straight one day

Call It What You Want - Foster the People: BANGER ("what's your style and who do you listen to" WHO CARES <3)

Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun: I did not know the name of this song or the band or even recognize the cover art but I know this song. They put them in car commercials because they're good

What You Know - Two Door Cinema Club: this and the other two door cinema club song came up all the time. bops.

A-Punk - Vampire Weekend: (ay! ay! ay! ay!) most iconic riff of all time! can't understand a damn word but I was screaming them anyway (100mph)

Rill Rill - Sleigh Bells: (Pandora Exclusive!) iconic! can't help but groove to this song. the mood of this song is so representative of this lane of music

Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema Club: the opening to this song gets me so hype! I know you'll like this song

Dragon Queen - Yeah Yeah Yeahs: you know Heads Will Roll but did you know this underrated banger? they're awesome, their other songs should get more attention

Don't Slow Down - Matt and Kim: 100mph dancing like a maniac lol look I should not have been allowed behind the wheel of a car. Don't slow down (listen to the album!)

All I Want - LCD Sound System: he's just really good idk

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings: we were obsessed with them. this song was everywhere

Story Problem - The Envy Corps: for the longest time I didn't know any names to Envy Corps songs because I mostly listened to them live, on a mix cd, or someone else was playing them. so i always got surprised by each song like, oh! I love this one! to be honest I still don't know the titles lol but every song is so damn iconic. at the concerts they would split the audience in half and have half of us do the "dada dada dadada da da da" part and the other half do the "oooooh wa oh wa oh" so you were singing your part throught the end of the song while they played. it was so magical <3

All Time Lows - Hellogoodbye: underrated banger. this album is like the definitive electronic indie sound of the mid-aughts

Somebody Told Me - The Killers: incredible song, incredible band. mainstay. they're so much more than Mr. Brightside

(starting the list over bc of tumblr's character limits. add 50)

Reptilia - The Strokes

Someday - The Strokes

Under Cover of Darkness - The Strokes: listen, this is accurate to how often they would play on that station. just Strokes back to back. and I loved it. their discography is just that deep. they don't miss.

Fell In Love With a Girl - The White Stripes: had to get some Whte Stripes in here. had to.

New Slang - The Shins: this song and Caring Is Creepy just, so iconic. they're so good

The World At Large - Modest Mouse: gonna float on maybe would you understand. ah ah ah ah ah ah aah (dashboard by modest mouse should also be on here but i couldn't find a spot for it :( played all the time) my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth <3<3<3

Black Balloon - The Kills: does anyone remember the kills? I wanted to be them so bad. this was the era of iconic indie duos (ting tings, matt & kim, white stripes, she & him...)

When Did Your Heart Go Missing - Rooney: one hit wonders, my beloved

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You - Black Kids: I'm convinced no one listened to this song but us. that's not true, and thank god cuase it's such a bop but we felt like we were in on a secret or something. the true 2010 hipster experience lol

Kid Gloves - The Envy Corps: I would literally put this song on a t work and walk around like I was a manic pixie dream girl in an indie movie. unironically amazing song tho (listen to the ep)

Henrietta - The Fratellis: there should have been four more of their songs on here. broke my heart to cut them

Phantom Limb - The Shins: I don't think I've said listen to the album on this one yet. the way this song just vibrates in you

Naive - The Kooks: another underrepresented band. She Moves In Her Own Way, Ooh La, Seaside!? all staples. I mean... if you need another album to listen to... im just sayin

Finer Feelings - Spoon: a bop. fun song <3

Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys: this was my first Arctic Monkeys song <3<3<3 forever. the coda is everything. god I love this song

Such Great Heights - Iron & Wine: listen, the original song by The Postal Service is so so so good and we listened to it just as much as this cover. this cover had us in a chokehold. go listen to the original tho. and the whole Postal Service album I promise it's so fundamental

Janglin - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros: the last of the three iconic ES&TMZs songs. This is like the progenitor of Stomp Clap corporate indie. everyone wanted to be them

Tighten Up - The Black Keys: the opening base notes on this song make me go feral. there should be way more Black Keys on here but if you have to pick one this is an easy choice.

Last Nite - The Strokes: the most iconic Strokes song. try not to scraem the first words. you can't. Last Night!

Australia - The Shins: time to put ear covers on! just makes me smile :)

All These Things That I've Done - The Killers: got us screaming "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" (are we human or are we dancers is also the killers. icons of the era)

Two Weeks In Hawaii - Hellogoodbye: I felt so bad when your mom caught us eating ice cream in your room at three in the morning. the best parts of my adolescence consolidated in this incredible song. the first of this type of album closing song to deeply affect me (followed by only in dreams by weezer in college). coming back to this album was part of me coming out of my depression last summer. my inner child just lives here, and I love her so much <3

A Certain Romance - Artctic Monkeys: I don't know, this song just gives me warm feelings. I know every shape of this song. I'm pretty sure it's about how America is a cultural wasteland lol. over there there's friends of mine, what can I say I've known em for a long long time, and it might over step the line, but you just cannot get angry in the same way, no not in the same way.

Daylight Outro (Remix) - Matt and Kim: back where we started. thx for listening <3

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glxybld-mustdie · 3 months ago

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So yesterday night I couldn’t sleep, and when I can’t sleep I grab my iPod, put on one of my favourite albums and vibe. But there is one album I cannot fucking listen to

Infinity On High.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it, it’s beautiful it’s my favourite by fob but OH MY GOD

ON THE LAST SONG WHEN AT THE END IT SAYS

N O W P R E S S R E P E A T

I FUCKING GET NIGHTMARES THAT VOICE IS TERRIFYING

Thank you for coming to my rambling, I almost wanted to make a list of which albums I listen to but no one would care so I didn’t

#fall out boy #fob #infinity on high #ioh #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

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chiisana-sukima · 1 year ago

Note

What's your favourite headcanon of something that happened in the Impala?

After Dean dies, Sam keeps the Impala sacrosanct. Even after he shuts down the bunker and he's starting to hunt less because he's aware his grief and depression are making him reckless and he'll probably get himself killed and he promised Dean he'd live--even then, he still keeps everything in the Impala exactly as it was. He listens to Dean's rickety ancient cassettes and keeps all Dean's phones charged and in the glove box, and if anyone calls in on one, those hunts he always takes.

But then DJ is born. Sam wants to be a good father. He settles down and gets a home and a second car, but the Impala is still his first home and it's Dean's legacy, and would Dean want his nephew to treat it like a couch wrapped in plastic at some distant elderly relative's house? Is that really honoring him?

So he gets a car seat for the Impala. He takes DJ out on rides. DJ spits up on the vinyl. He spills his organic 100% all natural no added ingredients cran-razz juice boxes all over everything. Miracle continues to shed everywhere.

DJ goes to kindergarten. He wants to listen to the same dumb kids' music as all his friends. Sam looks for cassettes of it, but of course there aren't any, even on ebay, so he grits his teeth and installs an ipod jack again. His nightmares get worse for a few nights, but nothing bad happens. It's fine and DJ loves it.

No one calls on Dean's old phones anymore. Sam lets the batteries run dead. He listens to his own music in the house and in his other car, of course, but in the Impala, except for DJ's picks, he still only listens to Dean's tapes; the ones that used to be their father's. Miracle scratches the seats up when they forget to trim his claws.

DJ keeps growing. He turns 16. Sam teaches him to drive in his other car, but he should get to drive Dean's car too. Dean would want him to.

Their first drive out together in the Impala with DJ behind the wheel, DJ grins slyly and says, "Hey, dad. I got you some old people music."

DJ shuffles through his ipod, and they drive out together through the autumn countryside, windows down and DJ's pick for Sam blasting from the speakers. His son knows him. It's Green Day, Sam's favorite all those years ago in college.

"Well, maybe I'm the faggot, America," he and DJ sing at the top of their lungs. Red and yellow leaves fall all around them. He feels centered and happy. There's no denying it's good.

"In television dreams of tomorrow, we're not the ones who're meant to follow," they yell together.

Dean would've liked this song if he'd let himself.

Maybe in Heaven when Sam gets there.

#thank you for the ask nonny. you're doing the lord's work #my stuff #post-finale #drabble #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester & DJ Winchester #this is a fix it from my perspective but your mileage may vary

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nikimisery · 4 days ago

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Season 1 Episode 7 - Hook Man

It had been a few days since we had left St. Louis, and while the brothers had been incredibly sweet and understanding with me, I still found myself flinching away from Dean until his scent would hit me, and then I would be left apologizing over and over again and it would end with Dean hugging me, telling me that it was okay, that he understood, but the guilt I felt, knowing that it wasn’t really Dean on top of the face that that I couldn’t get what that monster wearing Dean’s face did to me out of my head... They kept telling me that they understood, they weren’t mad at my jumpiness, or the fact that I would growl if they got too close too fast, or the nightmares, but it was getting to me. I thought I was stronger than this. I knew I was stronger than this... Valkyrie had also been very quiet since everything had happened and that wasn’t helping. I tried talking to her about how she called Dean our mate, but she wouldn’t answer me.

“Alright, thank you for your time.” Sam’s voice sounded out from behind where Dean and I were sitting outside on the patio of this cute little diner we had found. His scent of coffee and books brushed over me as he joined us at the small table, taking the seat on the other side of Dean.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis.” Dean made fun of him as he took a seat.

“Bite me.” I almost spit out my drink at that bit of sass from Sam.

“So, anything?”

“I had them check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank.” Sam started with a shake of his head. “No John Doe’s fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m telling you, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.” Dean told him. The look on Sam’s face almost broke my heart. “Check this out. It’s a new item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road.” Sam read out loud, looking over the article Dean had pulled up on the laptop.

“Keep reading.”

“Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.”

“Could be something interesting.” I spoke up.

“Or it could be nothing at all.” Sam told me. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out.” Dean said, backing me up. Sam just nodded before packing up, handing me my drink as I got up. Dean reached up, putting his hand on my lower back to guide me to the car, and dammit, I flinched again, but I didn’t move away. I refused to let this ruin me. I let him guide me to the car, opening the door and helping me in with a kiss to my hair.

“Oh hey, Princess.” He started once he was in the car. “I got you something.” He shuffled around in his jacket pocket before he pulled out an iPod, handing it to me.

“Dean, you didn’t have to do that.” I told him, but took the outstretched device, regardless.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I put a few songs on there I’ve heard you talk about, plus a couple that I know you like.”

“You did, huh?” Sam said.

“Okay, so I had Sam do it, but I bought it, okay?” I giggled a little at that.

“Thank you, Dean...” I said, quietly. Sam tossed me a pair of headphones with a grin as I started going through the songs. There were a bunch of songs on there that Dean listened to in the car all the time, but also a bunch of other songs I didn’t know Dean even knew the names of. Fall Out Boy, Blink-182, Good Charlotte, but also Enya, Mozart, Eminem... I had always like listening to a wide variety of different music, and this made me so incredibly happy, seeing all of this. I put the headphones on and pressed shuffle, letting the music of the first song wash over me.

“May it be an evening star

Shines down upon you

May it be when darkness falls

Your heart will be true

You walk a lonely road

Oh, how far you are from home”

I closed my eyes as the song played. This song was from one of my favorite movies. Dean had promised to watch it with me before everything happened, but we hadn’t had a chance to. I knew he would love it, it’s just up his alley. I had read the books a long time ago, also trying to get Dean to read them, but that just ended up in him telling me he would listen to me read it, but wouldn’t be caught dead actually reading it himself. I felt myself drift off, laid across the back seat with Dean’s jacket serving as a pillow, the scent of leather and pine drifting through my nose.

The next thing I knew, I felt the car slowing down, coming to a stop outside a red, two-story. Dean got out, opening my door, letting me get out before closing it behind me.

“One more time, why are we here?” Sam asked, climbing out of the car himself.

“Victim lived here.” Dean said, leading the three of us over to a group of guys working on a rundown looking car. “Nice wheels.” He started, those boys looking over at him like he was crazy. “We’re your fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We’re new in town. Transfers. Looking for a place to stay.” He finished up, pointing between himself and Sam.

“What about her?” One of the guys asked, pointing at me, looking me up and down with a grin on his face.

“Yeah...” Dean said, trailing off. He put his hand out behind him, reaching for me. Taking it, he pulled me up to his side. “She’s mine.” He said, finality in his tone, like he was daring the guys to try something, the look on his face was hard, but his hands were gentle, and boy, did those words cause all the butterflies, not just some, ALL OF THEM. The one that asked threw his hands up, showing he meant no harm, and one of the other guys quietly pointed where to go as we walked past them and into the house. Dean held my hand the whole time, never letting go of me, which I was grateful for, with how many unknowns were in this place and everyone was staring. We made our way up the stairs, to the room the guy outside told us to go to, Dean knocking lightly on the open door. Inside was a young dude wearing yellow basketball shorts painting himself purple.

“Who are you?”

“We’re your new roommates.” Dean said, smiling at the guy as he walked into the room.

“Who’s she?”

“She’s not your concern.” He answered him, pulling me in behind him, hand still in mine.

“Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today.” The kid held out the paintbrush, seemingly towards me, but as I was reaching out for it, Dean pushed his hands away from me, towards Sam.

“He’s the artist. Things he can do with a brush.” Sam looked over at Dean and if looks could kill… Major bitch face. I giggled a little as Dean pulled me behind him and over to a chair, sitting down, subtly patting his leg, giving me the option to sit on his lap. I could tell he wanted me to, but he wasn’t going to make me. I made the decision, I could do this, so I settled down on his lap, his arm wrapping around me, pine and leather wrapping me up in a warm cocoon. “So...” He started, looking at a magazine sitting next to the chair, finding the kids name. “Murph. Is it true?”

“What?”

“We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week.”

“Yeah...” Murph said, trailing off.

“What happened?” Sam asked him, moving the brush over his back.

“They’re saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy.” Murph told the brothers.

“Rich, he was with somebody?” Sam asked him.

“Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen.” Murph answered him, sounding almost reverent.

“Who’s Lori Sorensen?” Dean asked before turning to look at Sam. “You missed a spot. Just down there, on the back.” He finished, grinning. I smacked him, whispering to him.

“Be nice to your brother.” I told him, but couldn’t quite keep the smile off my own face, which he noticed, shooting me a wink.

“Lori’s a freshman. She’s a local. Super hot. And get this: She’s the reverend’s daughter.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would you?” Dean asked, patting my leg so I would get up before taking my hand again. He pulled me out of the room behind him as Sam got the information on the church. His hand in mine was such a comfort to me. It’s so strange how, what happened to me, the shapeshifter wearing Dean’s face, could impact me so strongly, but it seemed like the only person who could bring me any solace was Dean. I wouldn’t question it, though, at that moment, I was okay.

We opened the door to the church, Dean’s hands gently pushing me through the door, grabbing my hand again when we got inside, as we waited for Sam to join us.

“Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter.” The reverend paused, pointing down to Lori, in the audience. “And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church.” The sound of the door closing behind Sam echoed through the Sanctuary, cutting off the reverend and making literally every single person sitting in the pews turn to look at us. I ducked my head behind Dean’s shoulder, hiding from the eyes on us. After a second, the reverend continued. “As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings.” He said as we found a seat, filing into the pew, sitting down. “So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.” As he finished speaking, everyone around us bowed their heads in prayer, except Dean. Sam elbowed him in the ribs, getting his attention, motioning towards everyone. When he noticed, he dropped his head, along with everyone else. After the service was over and we had made our way outside, we stood off to the side, waiting for Lori to come out. We spotted her make her way out, talking to a pretty girl with long, curly black hair.

“I can’t. It’s Sunday night.” I heard her say.

“It’s just us girls. We’re gonna do tequila shots and watch Reality Bites.” She said.

“My dad makes dinner every Sunday night.”

“Come on, Lori. I know this has been hard, but you are allowed to have fun.:

“I’ll try.” Lori said to the girl, who rolled her eyes.

“Okay.” She said, hugging Lori before leaving. We took that as our cue to approach her.

“Are you Lori?” Sam asked her as soon as we reached her.

“Yeah.”

“My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean and his girlfriend, Freya.” He said as Dean and I waved at her.

“Hi.” Dean said.

“We just transferred here to the university.” Sam told her.

“I saw you inside.” She said.

“We don’t want to bother you. We just heard about what happened and...” Sam trailed off.

“We wanted to say how sorry we were.” Dean finished for him.

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I...” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I saw someone... get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.” He finished. Lori was nodding at him when her dad joined us.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean and Freya. They’re new students.” She introduced us, Dean reaching out to shake his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.” Dean told him, releasing his hand and grabbing mine again.

“Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.” The Reverend said to Dean, smiling at him. Dean chuckled momentarily, squeezing my hand before speaking again.

“Listen, uh...” Dean started, pulling me with him to stand to the side, signaling to the Reverend that we’d like to talk to him in private. “We’re new in town, actually. And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group.” He finished, leading the Reverend away from Sam and Lori, giving them a chance to talk. I tuned out the conversation happening around me to listen in on Sam and Lori.

“Tell me, Lori. What are the police saying?”

“Well, they don’t have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“My story. I was so scared, I guess I was ‘seeing things’.” She told him sadly.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.” Sam told her.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” The Reverend said, pulling me back to the conversation in front of me. He reached out his hand, shaking Dean’s first, then mine and then, with a kind smile, he walked away.

“Let’s go get Sammy.” He said, pulling me behind him.

“We should probably go to the library, see what we can find out about this ‘Invisible Killer’.” I said to Dean.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked, pulling me along behind him as we walked through the library.

“I do.”

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” He said, making me giggle a little.

“No, man, there’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body was suspended? That sounds like the -”

“Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.” Sam cut him off.

“Wait, like THE Hook Man?” I asked, Sam just nodded at me.

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever.” Dean said, pulling us down one of the isles. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.”

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches?” Dean asked. “And the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all.” Sam began.

“What if it’s some kind of spirit?” I finished for him. “Let’s find a table, ask the Librarian for the records we need.” I said, pulling on Dean this time, Sam following behind us.

Dean and I found a table as Sam went to ask for help.

“How you doing, Princess.” He asked, pulling a chair for me. He had become even more protective and attentive since the incident in St. Louis. I could probably, quite literally rip his arms from his body, but it didn’t seem to matter to him, my physical strength. He kept a watchful eye on me at all times and it made my chest feel warm when I thought about it.

“I’m okay.” I told him. “I have my moments, like earlier in the Frat House, but I’m getting there.” Nodding his head, his hand reached out to settle on my thigh as Sam rejoined us, sitting on Dean’s other side. “Hey, boys?”

“Yeah?” Sam said.

“What’s up?” Dean said at the same time.

“Thank you.” I said, causing them both to nod. “No, really. Thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank us, Shortcake.” Sam said, placing his hand on top of mine, where I had laid it on the table. “You’re family.” The words brought tears to my eyes, but I tried to blink them away before they could fall. Dean’s hand squeezed my thigh, causing me to look at him.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” He said. “You don’t have to thank us.” Then he smirked at me before talking again. “But if you really want to thank us, focus on getting better. And let us help you when you need it.” Smiling at him, I nodded, one tear escaping as I looked at him. He reached up, using his thumb to wipe away the stray tear.

“Here you go.” The librarian said, interrupting the moment. “Arrest records going back to 1851.” She all but dropped two heavy boxes on the table in front of us, dust flying everywhere. Dean leaned forward, blowing some of said dust off the box in front of us. “Okay.” She said, turning and walking away. Dean watched her go for a moment before turning back to Sam with an eyebrow arched.

“So, this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?” Dean asked Sam.

“Welcome to higher education.” He said, opening the box, pulling out files and distributing them out to us. I giggled a little before opening the file.

“He’s not wrong.” I said, reading over the information in front of me. Not finding anything, I closed it and moved on to the next one. That went on for what felt like hours, before Sam spoke up, having moved to the stack behind us, reading out of one of the books there.

“Hey, check this out.” He said, motioning for Dean to come join him. “1862. A preacher named Jacob Karnes was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes.” I turned in my chair, abandoning what I was reading to give my full attention to what he was saying. “Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh’.” He read.

“Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.” Dean read.

“Look where all this happened.” Sam said, pointing to a different page.

“9 Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed.” I filled in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkmen.” Dean said, turning back to me. “Let’s go check it out.” Sam started gathering everything up as Dean came back over to the table, reaching his hand out for me. “Ready, Princess?” Nodding, I reached up for his hand, letting him pull me up and after him out of the library.

After we left the library, Dean took us to get something to eat before we went out to the crime scene. We walked into this cute little diner, finding a seat in a corner booth.

“In you go, princess.” Dean told me, pushing me into the booth first. Our waiter came up, I was still having a hard time with unfamiliar men, so I just looked down, pushing myself further into the booth. If the boys noticed, they didn’t say anything. Dean ordered me a Dr. Pepper, because let’s face it, Dr. Pepper is life, before turning to me. “You looking for anything in particular?” He asked, pointing to the menu, but I just shook my head no. His hand found my thigh under the table, giving me a reassuring squeeze as the waiter brought our drinks back and sat them on the table. He asked if we were ready to order, so they boys went ahead, Dean ordering for me since I was having a bit of a hard time at the moment as Sam opened my straw, putting it in my cup. They did it for me, almost unconsciously, without a second thought, and it made my heart swell in my chest. They talked about the case a little bit as I stared out the window, trying to take in the area around us. His hand never left my thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. It was almost distracting, I won’t lie. The memory of his hands and lips and especially his thigh was still fresh in my mind, causing heat to zing through my body. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, one second, I wanted nothing more than to completely turn myself over to this man, but the next, panic would take over me and my throat would swell shut. I hated it. I hated myself for feeling all of this, but I didn’t know what to do, what to think. What was the right thing to do? What was the right thing to think?

“Here you go.” Our waiter said, placing our food down in front of us. I’ll be completely honest with you, I didn’t even hear what Dean had ordered for me.

“Thanks.” Sam told him, shooting him a smile and a nod. Dean pushed my plate over in front of me, causing me to look down to see what I had. A smile broke out on my face when I realized he had ordered one of my favorite meals. A chicken sandwich, bacon, tomato, Swiss cheese and ranch with a side of onion rings. I turned to say thank you, but he just shook his head with a smile, squeezing my thigh.

“Eat, Princess. We got a ghost to hunt.” Was all he said before digging into his own burger.

It was well after dark as we pulled down the little dirt road that led to our destination. Sam had the spotlight that was hooked to the car going, searching around the area as Dean pulled the car to a stop, getting out and opening my door for me before making his way to the trunk. He opened it up, propping open the weapons compartment before pulling out a double barrel shotgun, handing it to Sam.

“Here you go.” He said. He pulled out a second one, handing it to me.

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good.” Sam told him, checking the gun.

“Yeah, rock salt.”

“Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent.” Sam replied. Dean pulled out a coil of rope before he shut the trunk, grabbing my hand, and walking off towards the line of trees we had parked in front of.

“Yeah. It won’t kill them, but it will slow them down.” He told Sam.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you, you don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.” I heard a noise right as he finished speaking, so I pulled on Dean’s hand, pointing to my ear, making him stop and listen as well. “Over there, Over there.” He said, pointing, Sam cocking and raising his gun towards the sound. There was a tense pause as we waited for whatever it was to show themselves, rustling in the trees in front of us, but to our surprise, it wasn’t a ghost, spirit, or anything else we might be hunting. It was the sheriff.

“Put the guns down now!” He said, pointing his own at us as he emerged. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.” I dropped the gun as quickly as I could, following his orders.

“W-w-wait, okay, okay!” Dean said, putting the rope down before putting his hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!” We lowered ourselves down, kneeling on the gravel as he approached us. “Now, get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!”

“They had the guns…” Dean said, trailing off as he laid down.

“Jackass.” I whispered to Dean, but he just shot me a smirk.

“Brat.”

We had been separated as soon as we got to the station, but I could still hear the boys talking to whoever was interrogating them. Sam had, thus far, refused to answer any questions. Dean on the other hand, hadn’t stopped talking since we got in here, talking about how much fun he had been having, out with his girl, hazing this new idiot pledge. It was funny, I won’t lie, but I think I was getting separation anxiety. I didn’t have either brother with me and it was making me nervous. It was almost like he knew I was feeling that way because I heard his voice, clear as day, coming through the walls.

“Relax, Princess. I’ll have us out of here soon.”

It wasn’t a fix all, but it definitely helped me breathe easier.

“Ma’am?” a woman’s voice broke me out of my listening, coming into the door. “I just need to ask you a few questions.” She said, closing the door behind her. Good. At least it was a female officer.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“What were you doing out there with those two boys tonight?” My mind flashed to what I heard Dean telling them earlier, so I decided to play into it, grabbing a strand of my hair and twirling it around my finger.

“My boyfriend thought it would be funny.” I said in a nasally voice, trying to play the dumb blonde college girl thing up.

“Funny for what?” She asked.

“Something about some stupid prank on that new kid.”

“And why did you have a gun?”

“He said it would be even more funny if I had one too. It didn’t even have any of those red thingies in it.” I said, alluding to the normal shells used for shotguns.

“Yeah…” The officer said, trailing off. I was obviously doing way too good of a job at selling it because she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, mumbling ‘Lord help me’ under her breath before she stood back up, walked around to my side of the table and undid my cuffs. “You’re free to go. Just… Stay out of the woods… and maybe find a new boyfriend.” She said, ushering me out of the room and down the hall. Dean and Sam were already there, waiting on me.

“But he’s like, so cute though!” I said to the officer, pouting as I looked at her, but she just rolled her eyes at me.

“On you go.” She replied, giving me a gentle push towards the boys. Dean had an eyebrow raised at me as I reached them, the smirk back on his face.

“So cute, huh?” He said, taking his hand in mine.

“Hush.” I told him, sticking my tongue out at him, making him laugh a little at me before turning to his brother.

“Saved your ass!” He said, pulling me out of the station, Sam behind us. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I’m Matlock.”

“But how?” Sam asked, watching the door close with a confused look on his face.

“He told him you were a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing you.” I added.

“And the shotgun?” Sam asked, bitch face in full swing.

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know. Typical Hell Week prank.” Dean replied.

“And your shotgun?” Sam turned to me.

“I told them,” I began, raising my free hand and making quotations in the air. “My boyfriend said it would be so much more funny if I had a gun too. Like… it didn’t even have any of those red thingies in it!” Totally overdramatizing the way I spoke, but getting my point across, regardless. Dean busted out laughing as soon as I finished talking, Sam’s bitch face was back in full effect.

“Very funny.” He said, glaring at his brother and I. “And they believed you?”

“Well, you look like a dumbass pledge.” He said, getting cut off by several different officers running out of the building to their cars.

“The hell?” I said, sharing a look with the boys before Dean opened my door and ushered me inside, getting in and following the cars.

We pulled up to the street of Lori’s Sorority House, but we couldn’t get down it, due to how many cop cars and ambulances were already on the scene, so we parked a little ways down before Dean turned to me.

“What can you hear?” He asked. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and started sifting through all of the different noises reaching my ears before I heard the familiar voice of the Reverend speaking to the same sheriff that arrested us the night before, focusing on that, relaying back to the boys what was being said.

“I just want to take her home.” The Reverend said.

“I understand that, Reverend, but Lori’s now connected to two murders, and I can’t ignore that.”

“Listen to me. Arrest her now, or let me take her home.” There is a pause before the Sheriff speaks again.

“Make sure she’s available for questioning.”

“Thank you…” He said, ending the conversation with the sheriff. “Sweetheart, you ready to go home?”

I told the boys what was going on, and we had decided that maybe we should just sneak into the sorority house so we could see for ourselves what was going on, so Dean pulled the Impala away from the curb, driving around to the next street over before parking behind the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as we reached the house, walking quietly across the grass. “This is a long way from 9 Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s something else.” Dean told him, immediately pushing the two of us back against the house as two of the girls came out of the side entrance, but they were talking to each other, not paying any attention to us. “Dude, sorority girls! Think we’ll see a naked pillow fight?” He asked, watching the girls walk away, but we ignored him. Sam had already made his way up to the roof by the time Dean noticed he wasn’t there anymore. I jumped up, reaching the edge of the room, pulling myself up and ‘accidentally’ kicking Dean in the back of the head in the process.

“Sorry…” I said as he joined me up on the roof, rubbing the back of his head. “I was too busy watching those girls, didn’t see you there.” I smirked at him, but he just glared at me.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, but you could tell he wasn’t really mad at me. He grabbed my hand, pulling me back along behind him as we made our way across the roof to where Sam was opening a window. Sam made his way in, followed by Dean. I was getting ready to go in after him when I heard him and Sam start fighting. “Oh, sorry!” Dean said.

“Be quiet.”

“You be quiet!”

“You be quiet!” Sam’s voice came as I finally made my way through the window.

“How about you both be quiet or I’m going to smash your heads together!” I told them, causing them both to immediately shut up and look at the ground, each mumbling an apology before I made my way to the door of the closet we were in. “Fuck, there is a lot of blood out there.” I whispered, pulling back from the door before I could even look out, so Sam took over, pushing the door open a little before jerking back.

“Cops.” He whispered, putting his finger to his lips. Dean’s hand found mine again as I was trying to regulate the iron smell of blood surrounding me. A thought popped in my head then, so I stepped closer to Dean, leaning my forehead down on his shoulder and taking a deep breath. Relief flooded through me when, instead of the sharp iron smell of blood, I got pine trees and leather. He didn’t say anything, just stayed quiet as I was breathing, squeezing my hand in silent support. We only had to wait a few more seconds for the officer to leave the room, Sam pushing the door open and walking out, Dean pulling me out behind him.

“You were right…” Dean said, trailing off and squeezing my hand again. “There is a lot of blood here.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” Sam read.

“That’s right out of the legend.” I told them.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean said. I tapped my nose when he finished speaking.

“Do you smell that? It took me a second with all the blood, but…” I said.

“It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before.” Sam told us. Dean had let go of my hand for a second to walk over to the window, checking outside, so I took the opportunity to walk around myself, coming to the end of bed, I noticed something on the wall.

“Hey, come here.” I said, both boys joining me. “Does that look familiar to you?”

“Yeah… Yeah it does.” Sam answered me.

“Let’s get out of here.” I said, pulling the boys back into the closet with me so we could get back out the same way we got in. “Don’t make so much noise this time.” I told them, pushing them towards the window.

“Yes mom.” Sam sassed me pulling himself out of the window, but Dean just smirked at me before he spoke.

“Yes ma’am.” He said, winking at me and followed Sam. Once we were back at the car, the boys sat on the hood while I got the paper we nabbed from the library out of the back seat, handing it to Sam as I rounded the car, standing in front of them.

“It’s the same symbol. Seems like it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns.” Sam said, pointing at the symbol at the bottom of the page.

“All right, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down.”

“It’s not going to be that simple.” I told him.

“Why?”

“After execution,” Sam started, reading what I had already gone over out loud. “Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.” He finished, the brothers shooting looks at each other.

“Super.” Dean complained, standing up and grabbing my hand, pulling me around the car with him.

“Okay, so we know it’s Jacob Karns.” Sam said. “But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why.”

“I’ll take a wild guess about why. I think your little friend Lori has something to do with it.” Dean answered him, pulling a ticket off his windshield before opening the door for me to get in, before getting in himself. Sam had a look on his face that said he didn’t quite believe what Dean said, but he didn’t question it as he pulled away from the curb.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Dean, adjusting my tank top one more time. I had decided to wear a pair of tight, dark blue jeans, knee high boots and a low cut black tank.

“You look hot, Princess.” He said, raking his eyes over me. “Plus, we’ll be right there the whole time, no one will bother you.”

“Yeah, okay…” I trailed off, taking his hand before he had a chance to reach for mine. “Let’s just do this.” I told them. They both nodded before walking into a party at the frat house we were in a few days ago. The sounds of the party hit me all at once, almost overwhelming me, but I kept a solid grip on Dean’s hand, grounding myself as we made our way through the people. Dean and I elected to see if we could find out any information about Jacob Karns or any other mysterious happenings around the party, so with a reluctant sigh, I let go of Dean’s hand, causing him to turn to look at me with a questioning look.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, but if we’re going to get information, I gotta mingle.”

“You can stay with me… You know we can figure this out without all that.” He said.

“I know, but I gotta get out of this funk, out of my shell at some point.” I told him, noticing a pool table over in the corner surrounded by college kids. “I’ll be over there.” I said, pointing to the table. “Just don’t go far.” With that, I turned, took a deep breath and made my way over to the table. I could feel his eyes on me, letting me know he was keeping watch over me. “You boys like pool?” I asked with a grin.

“Hell yeah, you know how to play?” A blonde guy asked me, walking up to me. I could feel the panic trying to make it’s way into my throat, but I pushed it down. I could do this.

“I love playing!” I said, college girl persona back in place.

“How about we play for something?” He asked, stepping closer to me.

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about, if I win, I get your number. If you win, you get whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” I asked, twirling my hair around my finger again.

“Whatever you want.” He repeated.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I told him.

“I’ll let you break.” He said, walking around setting up the table. I took my position as soon as he was done, intentionally messing up my shot, barely even moving the pool balls around the table. I could see his smirk out of the corner of my eye, he thought this was going to be an easy win.

“So,” I began as he looked around the table, deciding where to make his shot. “It’s so awful what happened to Rich.” I said, gauging his reaction. I could smell the initial surprise followed by a twinge of both sadness and annoyance.

“Yeah, he was a pretty okay dude.”

“What happened?” I asked, watching him sink a stripe. 15. He went again, sinking both 11 and 9 before it was my turn.

“He was stabbed to death.” I inhaled, acting shocked as he spoke.

“Does that happen around here a lot?” I asked, hand over my chest.

“No, don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.” He said, smirking at me. I could see Dean, slowly circling the pool table, just on the edge of the crowd as we played. It was my turn then, so I stepped up to the table, eyeing it for my best shot.

“What do you know about Jacob Karns?”

“The crazy old preacher from back in the day?” My surprise was real this time as I glanced at him. “I’m an anthropology major.” He explained.

“Yeah, that would be the one.” I said with a nod, lining up my shot, sinking the 2 ball.

“Just know that he went crazy, murdered a bunch of hookers, got sent to prison and executed.” He told me, all things I already knew as I sank 6, 3 and 1.

“Do you know where he’s buried?” I asked, receiving a look that just screamed ‘what the hell’ from him. “I’m writing a paper on him in my local history class.” I missed the shot for 5 ball, letting him take a turn.

“Some old cemetery out off Ankeny Blvd.” He said, watching me. “His plot is out in the back, away from the other graves.” He lined up and took out the 10 and 14 balls before missing on 13. It was my turn so I lined up, sinking the 4 and 5 ball in one shot. “Thought you said you weren’t very good at this.”

“I never said that. I think I said I loved playing…” I told him, trailing off as I set up my shot for the 7, sinking it. I studied the table, trying to find a good shot for the 8, but I wasn’t finding one when I heard Dean whisper from his spot in the crowd.

“Corner pocket, other side of the table.”

I smirked as I heard his voice, following his advice. I called it to the blonde boy, whose name I still didn’t know.

“Right corner pocket.” I told him, pointing to it with my pool stick, before sinking it.

“Well, good looking, looks like you won.” He said, setting his stick down on the table before coming around, standing right in front of me. “What is it that you want?” I didn’t answer him right away, finding Dean’s eyes in the crowd and sticking my hand out to him. I turned back to the blonde as he reached me, taking my hand.

“Yeah, him.” I answered, pulling him with me and away from the shocked looking blonde, Dean snickering behind me. We found Sam standing in the middle of the party, looking so out of place. “Look at him.” I told Dean. “He looks like such an awkward sasquatch.” I giggled. He just laughed before pulling me over to his brother.

“Hey.” Sam said, noticing us.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!” Dean told him, watching a group of girls walk past us. I poked him in the ribs at that, causing him to lean down and whisper to me. “Jealous, Princess?” My cheeks flared at that.

“Focus, Sugar.” I told him, pushing his face away from mine, but he definitely caught the blush on my face, regardless of the low lights.

“This wasn’t really my experience.” Sam told us.

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?” He asked, watching Sam nod in agreement. “What a geek.”

“Hey, now. I was the same way.” I admonished him.

“Yeah, but I guarantee you were hot while doing it.” He told me with a wink, but I just scoffed and rolled my eyes at him. He pinched my hip before turning back to Sam.

“Alright, you do your homework? Freya got a little bit of information from the Brad Pitt wannabe, over there, but not a lot we didn’t already know.”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori?” Sam started, but Dean silenced him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from as many ears as he could. “So I think I came up with something.” He told us, unrolling the piece of paper he had in his hand.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.” Dean read off.

“There’s a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force.” He told us as we walked through the house. “Killings carried out – get this – with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“A man of religion?” I told him. “Who openly preaches against immorality?” I swear I watched the light bulb go on in that man’s brain.

“Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his only daughter.” Sam finished for me.

“Reverend Sorensen. You think he’s summoning the spirit?” Dean asked us.

“Maybe.” I said.

“Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, the spirit latches on to the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.” Dean said, thinking it all over.

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it.”

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight.” Dean told him. Sam nodded before speaking.

“What about you two?” Dean looked away, a blonde girl standing by the pool tables was staring at us and I shot her a smile.

“We’re gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.” He said with a grimace, cursing under his breath before he pulled me behind him and out of the house, leaving Sam behind. When we reached the car, he pulled me with him to the driver’s door, opening it and ushering me in and across the seat. “You good?” He asked. “You didn’t have to do that.” He told me, his hand on my thigh as he drove away from the house. I thought over his question for a second before I answered him.

“Yeah. I am, actually. I thought it would be harder than that, but I knew you were there the whole time.” I told him, shyly. He didn’t reply, but he did squeeze my thigh before speaking again.

“What exactly did he say? Off Ankeny Blvd?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. He said the plot was away from the other graves.”

“Good, that should make things a little easier.” He said, pulling the car into the cemetery. Finding a place to park, he got out, going to the trunk to get a couple of shovels. I took that time to change out of the boots I was in and into a pair of sneakers. There was no way in hell I was going to go desecrate a grave in heels. “You ready?” He asked, shutting the trunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me with him as we started making our way through the cemetery. He had his flashlight, but I just flashed my eyes, looking at the headstones as we walked. A twig snapping in the bushes around us had him pausing, pulling me close to him.

“Relax, it’s just a deer.” I told him after a second of watching the bushes. The doe just watching us before she walked away.

“I’m perfectly relaxed.” He said with a scoff, pulling me with him again. It took us a few minutes, but we finally found a headstone with the same symbol that was on the wall back in Lori’s room. “Here we go.” He said, walking over to it, setting down his bag before handing me one of the shovels he had gotten. We got to work without any words, digging as fast as we could. It took us several hours, but we were almost there. I was all the way in the hole at this point, Dean’s head coming just above the edge of where we started digging. “That’s it.” He said as we finally got to the casket. “Next time, we get to watch the cute girl’s house.” He said, grunting as he finally broke through the wooden top. “Hello, preacher.”

“What, this not your idea of a good time?” I sassed at him, causing him to roll his eyes at me.

“How is it, we’ve been working non stop, digging, and you look like you’ve barely broken a sweat?"

"I don’t know… could be because I’m fuckin awesome.” I laughed at him, pulling myself out of the grave, turning to help him out.

“Sure, princess. Sure.” He said as he opened the bag, pulling out the salt and the lighter fluid. “Fuckin awesome. Right. In what universe?” He sassed right back.

“All of them.” I said, grabbing the salt out of his hand. I started pouring it over him, saturating every inch of him that I could before Dean started soaking his bones in the lighter fluid. Once he was done, he pulled a couple matches out, striking them all at once, throwing them down onto the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” He said. I took the lighter fluid and the matches from him, packing the bag back up and throwing it over my shoulder as he watched the bones burn. The sun was starting to come up by the time we made our way back to the Impala, Dean’s hand in mine again. When we reached the car, he opened the driver's door again, for me to slide in, but I paused, turning to look at him. He shot me a questioning look, but I just leaned up, placing a kiss on his soft lips.

“Thank you.” I told him.

“I’m not sure what I did, but if this is the thanks I get, remind me so I can do it again.” I smiled up at him, shaking my head a little before I spoke.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, in getting through all of this.” I told him. His hand came up, cupping my face before he leaned in this time, pressing into me. The kiss was sweet, reminding me of that night, slow and steady, but still filling me with that same intense heat. His phone ringing is what caused him to pull back, breaking the kiss. As he pulled it out of his pocket, I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, his free arm coming up and wrapping around me. I listened to what was being said, Sam was calling to inform us that the Reverend was in the hospital and that’s where he was.

“Come on, Princess, let’s go meet up with Sammy.” He said, pulling back from the hug and gently pushing me into the car.

Walking into the hospital, I pulled Dean behind me, following Sam’s voice. I could hear him speaking to the sheriff. We found him, down at the end of the hallway we were walking down, but we were stopped by a couple of officers, holding their hands out, not wanting to let us through.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother.” Dean told the officers. “Hey! Brother!” He yelled out, hand in the air, waving, getting Sam’s attention.

“Let him through.” The sheriff talking to Sam waved to the officers.

“Thanks.” Dean said, pulling me along behind him. “You okay?” He asked as soon as we reached Sam.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

“You saw him? Dean asked.

“Damn right.” Sam said, stopping us from moving any farther with a hand on Dean’s arm. “Why didn’t you torch the bones?”

“What are you talking about, we did.” He said, gesturing between the two of us. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him. And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, yeah, the guy wouldn’t send the Hook Man after himself.” Dean said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori.” Sam told him. “Last night, she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.”

“So what?” I smacked Dean in the arm when he said that.

“So she’s upset about it. She’s upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Okay, so she’s conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching onto the repressed emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?” Dean said, seemingly pretty proud of himself.

"Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off.” Dean said, pausing as one of the doctors walked past where we were standing. “But we burned those bones, she buried them in salt. Why didn’t that stop him?”

“You must have missed something.”

“No. We burned everything in that coffin.”

“What wasn’t in the coffin, Sugar?” I asked him, the idea hitting me that I never once saw the hook. He gave me a questioning look, so I kept talking. “The hook was missing. I didn’t even think about it until now.” I said.

“The hook?”

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was a part of him.” Sam explained.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.” Dean realized.

“So, if we find the hook…” Sam started.

“We stop the Hook Man.” They both said, together.

“You guys are so cute.” I said, walking away, back down the hall.

We made our way back to the library we were at earlier, looking through more logbooks and records, trying to figure out what happened to the personal effects of Jacob Karns. We each had a big, heavy book open in front of us, but it was Dean that found the first bit of information.

“Here’s something, I think. Logbook, Iowa State Penitentiary.” He said, pulling the pen lid he was chewing on out of his mouth. “Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: Disposition thereof.”

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked him, looking over at the book next to him.

“Yeah, maybe.” He said, moving his finger over the page, looking for the right words. “Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, S. Barnabas Church.”

“Is that where Lori’s father preaches?”

“Yeah.”

“Where Lori lives?” I asked.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past 200 years.” Dean said, turning to look over at me before looking back at his brother.

“Yeah, but if the hook were at the church or Lori’s house, don’t you think someone might’ve seen it? I mean, a bloodstained, silver-handled hook?” Sam asked.

“Check the church records.” Dean suggested. We all got up at that point, splitting up, looking for something that would help, and ended up in the sitting area, books spread out all around us. Dean was sitting in a chair, leaning up against a pillar while I was sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning against one of his legs as we read.

“St. Barnabas donations, 1862.” Sam spoke from where he was sitting in front of us. “Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.” Letting out a sigh, Sam closed the book. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Let’s go.” Dean said, closing his own book, taking mine from my hands before helping me up.

It was dark by the time we finally made it out of the library. Dean drove us to the church, opening my door to let me out when we parked.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances.” He said, once everyone was out of the car. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in.”

“Alright, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the house.” Sam told him.

“Okay.” Dean replied, taking my hand, pulling me behind him towards the church. “Hey.” He called back, pausing for a second. Once Sam was facing him again, he spoke. “Stay out of her underwear drawer.” He smirked, pulling me behind him again. I smacked his arm for that one.

“He’s not you.”

“He’s a lot freakier than you give him credit for.” He said, chuckling to himself.

“Hush, you.” I said, opening the door for him to walk through. Together, we started systematically working our way through the church, anything that looked even slightly silver was grabbed before we made our way downstairs, where the furnace was, getting it up and running.

“I got everything that even looked silver.” Sam’s voice called out as he descended the stairs and into view.

“Better safe than sorry.” Dean answered him, coming over to join us, helping us throw everything into the fire. I heard the door open and close, softly, before I grabbed Dean’s arm, footsteps loud enough for the boys to hear followed. “Move, move.” He said, grabbing his gun and pulling me with him up the stairs, but when we noticed it was Lori there, Dean nudged Sam, motioning for him to go talk to her, before pulling me back downstairs with him. “What are they talking about?” He asked me, once we were back downstairs.

“She’s not okay. She knows this is all her fault, but she doesn’t understand, she thinks Karns is some kind of ‘avenging angel’, her words. He’s trying to comfort her.” I told him. I could still hear them talking, but I heard a separate noise now too. “Dean…” I started. “Something’s not right.” The words were barely out of my mouth before we heard Lori let out a scream. I took off before I could even think about it, racing up the stairs as fast as I could. I found them in the foyer by the door we went down and barreled into Sam, knocking him out of the way just in time for the hook to dig straight into my shoulder. I let out a scream as he dug in, the hook pushing it’s way back out the front of my chest. “Go!” I screamed at him, motioning him to go after Lori, who, at this point, was all the way down at the other end of the hallway, laying on the floor. I swiped at the spirit in front of me with a little iron dagger I had found in my jacket pocket, causing him to disappear, but I wasn’t fast enough to stop him reappearing in front of Sam and Lori, knocking Sam back into the wall. He fell to the floor, a bookshelf dropping down on top of him. I raced, as fast as I could, to try and get them both up, but Dean’s words halted my actions.

“Sam, drop!” Sam hit the deck just as Dean let off a shot, causing the spirit to disappear again.

“I thought we got all the silver?” I asked, leaning against the wall, holding my shoulder. I was healing, but it still hurt and it was bleeding, quite a lot.

“So did I.” Dean answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam asked next.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

“Lori, where did you get that chain?” Sam asked her.

“My father gave it to me.”

“Where’d your dad get it?” Dean asked next, impatience coloring his words.

“He said it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!” Sam asked.

“Yes!” She cried as Sam yanked the chain off her neck. Scratching noises started up down the hall behind me, all of us turning our heads to watch as the hook made a long gouge in the wall before jumping over to the opposite wall.

“Sam!” Dean yelled out, throwing his shotgun to him before Sam threw him the necklace. Dean also threw the last two salt rounds at him that he had with him, but Sam missed them. They landed on the floor right next to Lori. I booked it over to Sam, picking up the shells, just as he shot at the place where the hook left its last mark, then he dropped. Taking the shells from me, he loaded the gun, but just as he was about to aim again, Karns appeared right in front of him, knocking the gun out of his hands. I grabbed Sam by the collar of his jacket, shoving him behind me as I placed myself between Karns and Sam. Lori was still on the ground doing her best to hide behind Sam. Karns lifted his hook, moving to swipe it down across me again when he burst into flames. Dean must have gotten the necklace in the furnace just in time. I collapsed back against Sam as soon as he was gone, holding my shoulder. It wasn’t bleeding as badly now, but it still hurt like a bitch. Dean appeared right after that, rushing over to us after taking a look around, assessing the situation. Dropping to his knees next to me, he brought his hands up, moving mine off my shoulder before taking a look at it.

“You good, Princess?” He asked, putting pressure on my shoulder. Letting out a hiss, I answered him.

“Peachy.”

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Still holding the pressure, he pulled me up, Sam’s hands on my back, helping push. Once we got outside, and the cops came, Dean pulled his jacket up around my shoulders before pulling me with him to talk to one of the officers. I just leaned against his chest as he spoke, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as I waited for my shoulder to heal.

“And you saw him, too?” The officer asked. “The man with the hook?” I nodded my head, but Dean spoke for me.

“Yes, I told you, we all saw him. We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

“Listen, you, your girl and your brother –“ The officer began, but Dean cut him off.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.” He said, pulling a giggle out of me as he pulled me over to the car and away from the officer. Once he got me into the car, he pulled his jacket back, inspecting the almost nonexistent wound in my shoulder. “You gotta be careful, Princess.” He said, running his fingers over it.

“I’m okay. It was either me or Sam.” He had a look on his face that I couldn’t place, but he didn't say anything, just nodded at me as he pulled my shirt back into place, the jacket following it. Leaning over, he placed a small, chaste kiss on my lips before getting into the driver’s seat, settling in and waiting for Sam to join us.

“We could stay.” He told him, as soon as he was in the car and settled, but Sam just shook his head. I could feel the disappointment coming off him, but he didn’t say anything else, just put the car into gear and drove away.

“Nik…” Sam started. “Next time, let me take the hit.”

“Not gonna happen, Sasquatch.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Dean cut in. “Why do you call her Nik?”

“Her middle name is Nicole.” Sam answered him with a shrug.

“Freya Nicole Ashford… Sexy.” Was all he said as we drove out of town and onto the highway.

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