#ghost!sam

[klove0511]

It's Rest I Want Masterpost

Title: It's Rest I Want

Rating: T

Word count: 26,978

Pairing: Dean/Sam, Dean/Ruby (mentioned)

Warnings: Major Character Death

Additional tags: Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Pre-Slash, ghost!sam, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Ideation (mentioned), Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Season 2 AU, the Winchesters use their words (eventually), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending

Author's note : At long last, the sequel is here! I had a blast writing this, and I am SO excited to finally get to post it. Thank you to the mods of the @spnproshipbang, because without your encouragement and this event this fic would still just be an idea. A huge thank you to my artist @imnot-evenhere. Their art is amazing, and you should go check it out. And finally, thank you to my betas @hello-starlingfics, @missroserose, and @samanddean76. Any mistakes left are all mine.

Summary: After John's betrayal results in Sam's death, Dean follows in the Winchester family tradition and swears vengeance on his father. The question is: is Sam really gone?

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Epilogue

Link to art post

Link to The Only Way Out AO3 | Tumblr

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[spookberry]

Its past their bedtime

[tired-all-the-time22]

Failed phantom smooch ft. Letting the besties know

[colmiillo]

"I notice i start getting nauseous in the morning and my period is a week late"

Girl i need to fantasies with a hot man that i don't have a chance on, not with a baby,please kill that thing

[connorsui]

"How beautiful was she?"

"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....

She is the love of my life"

The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[shelbybyr]

When you run out of fics to read

[thebubblesareevil]

Danny Phantom

Written by Jazz Fenton

Danny Phantom was a story that built a generation of superheroes.

It’s the story of a young boy that had power thrust upon him and he rose to the challenge. Him and his friends worked hard to keep their town safe no matter how crazy things got.

He fought monsters and gods and even kings but still struggled to balance school and protecting the town. His sister did what she could to help but it wasn’t until after she learned the truth behind his identity that they were able to truly bond as a family.

The story end with Danny going off to college after closing the portal forever. He would go on to be an astronaut and fulfill his dreams.

Jazz wished it was true. She wrote the Danny Phantom books so there would be a record of what her brother had done. That in some small way he would never be forgotten.

When she was in her late 30s, heroes came out into the light. It hurt to see them, they reminded her so much of her brother.

One day jazz, now 46, gets a call from a newspaper celebrating authors and they want to present an award to her in metropolis.

What she wasn’t expecting?

As they are announcing her award a new person comes on stage to present it.

Superman. He went on to say that the Danny phantom stories were part of what inspired him to become a hero “when he arrived on earth”

She felt a pang in her heart as he spoke, but when the flash, green arrow, black canary, green lantern and even Batman stepped forward to tell similar stories she could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

She manages to hold back her tears until she is at the podium looking at the bronze plaque with her brothers name on it.

The brother she hadn’t seen in almost 30 years.

She fell to the ground sobbing, the plaque clutched tightly to her chest.

“I’m so happy” she sobbed “I was so afraid this world would forget him, after everything he did for it.”

Jazz Fenton refused to elaborate. She couldn’t, other wise she would break the deal that kept peace between the realms.

The GIW saw no harm is foolish bedtime stories. They hid any and all proof that Danny Fenton otherwise known as phantom ever existed.

So long as he never returned, his friends and family would be safe.

Unfortunately for them, superman is one hell of an investigative reporter and he has the world’s greatest detective at his side.

[astronnova]

pkmn hc time. ive thought about this lots

[klove0511]

It's Rest I Want Epilogue

John Winchester lay on the rack, trying to catch his breath. He'd lost track of how long it had been. Too long. His vocal chords had been shredded from screaming ages ago; but it didn't stop him from shrieking with every new cut. 

“What do you say, John?” Alistair purred. “This can all stop. All I need is one little word.”

It had been so long. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. To rest, just for a little while.

“Last chance, John. Will you? Hmm?” It wasn’t. The demon would ask again tomorrow. Always tomorrow. 

All he had to do was hold out one more day. One more hour, one more cut. Except he didn’t think he could. Not anymore. “You'll stop?” he rasped. “You— you promise?”

“Of course. All you have to do is pick up the knife.” The satisfaction in the demon’s voice made him sick.

He stared at the knife sitting on the table next to him. The ebony handle gleamed, slick with his blood. He was already intimately familiar with that knife and what it could do. Just one little word, and he could rest. He swallowed. He was a broken man, and Alistair knew it. Then he said, “Yes,” and closed his hand on the blade.

Dean stretched his back, enjoying the warmth from the sun. Early May in Sioux Falls was pleasant, and today the sky was a clear blue. Nature was happier than he was, but it wasn't so bad. He had one more car to finish, then he'd head over to Bobby's for a drink. The old hunter had made him promise that he wouldn't spend Sam's birthday alone, and Dean didn’t particularly want to spend the evening with anyone who hadn’t known Sam. 

“Winchester! You coming to happy hour tonight?” Mike called from across the shop.

Dean looked over at his boss, grimy as the rest of them, and waved him off. He'd told them no already, but they hadn't known why. All they knew was that he was quieter than usual. They'd been trying to get him to go drinking with them all day, speculating that he was nursing a broken heart. They were closer than they knew, but he wasn't going to tell them that, either.

Mike shrugged, exchanging a concerned look with one of the other guys. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“You know it. Hey, you coming to Dave's place Saturday for the barbeque?” Dean said, intending to offer a ride. Mike's house was on the way, and it wouldn't be the first time they'd carpooled. 

“Nah, the kids have a soccer game. I'll be at the next one.” 

Dean finished up his last job and cleaned up. It wasn't hunting, but it was satisfying work, repairing broken machines. Mike was a good boss. He went straight to Bobby's, knowing he wouldn't care if Dean showed up a little grungy. Better than going back to his place first. He was doing better these days, but he also knew that if he went home first he wouldn't want to leave again. Not today.

“Good to see you, kid. It's been too long,” Bobby said, moving aside so Dean could enter. 

It hadn't been that long. He'd stopped by, what, last month? Maybe March. “Work's keeping me busy. You know how it goes.”

Bobby leveled a stare at him. “Work, or work?”

“Just the shop, I swear. We've been slammed; Mike's talking about hiring an extra guy or two. Not that I know how that's going to help when we don't have any spare bays.”

“No kidding. You were his first new hire in ten years. Now he wants more?” Bobby led them to the kitchen where Dean could smell something good cooking. He grabbed two glasses and plates while Bobby pulled out a bottle of whiskey. 

Dean set the table and said, “What can I say? Word must have gotten out about his awesome new mechanic.”

“Well, he's lucky to have you, and I'm sure he knows it.” Bobby served up the pot roast, and they sat down.

Mostly they made small talk over dinner. Dean filled Bobby in on the shop gossip, and Bobby picked Dean's brain on some hunts he was researching. Later in the study, Dean flipped through one of Bobby's books, trying to find a match for the monster one of Bobby's contacts was hunting. He had to laugh. “I never figured I'd turn into you.”

“How's that now?” Bobby grumbled, paging through a book of his own.

“I don't know. Figured this sort of thing was more Sam's gig. I always expected to go out on the job.” 

Bobby's hands stilled. He watched Dean carefully, which annoyed the hell out of Dean.

“I'm not going to break. Seriously, Bobby, I'm ok. I mean. I'm not, right? I'm never going to be ok with the fact that— But it's not like it was.” He didn't know how to say it in a way that Bobby would understand. 

Bobby sighed. “I know you are. I guess I just didn't expect to hear you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

Bobby cocked his head and smiled a little. “Like you're retired from the job. Semi-retired, anyway. I know about that shifter you got back in April.”

Dean shrugged. “It was causing problems in my neighborhood, so I took care of it. It's not like I'm going looking for trouble.”

“I know you ain't.” Bobby paused, debating whether or not to say this next part. “I'm real proud of you, Dean. And I know Sam would be, too.”

There wasn't anything to say to that. He was pretty sure Bobby was right: Sam would be proud. He'd always been the one who insisted there was a life outside of hunting. 

“How’s that girl you been seeing?” Bobby asked after a bit.

Dean grunted in surprise. “Ruby? I don’t know. Think I might break it off.” He squirmed under Bobby’s parental gaze. “It’s weird, ok? She reminds me of Sam.”

Bobby guffawed. “Shit. I would’ve thought that would be a point in her favor.” Horror gripped him, and it must have shown because Bobby said, gentler, “It ain’t no secret how you felt. I got eyes, don’t I?”

“Bobby, no. You gotta know I would never–”

Bobby cut him off. “Course I know. I ain’t saying you molested the kid. Just that every time I caught you with a girl it was some know-it-all, lanky brunette who didn’t like being told no. I ain’t an idjit.”

Dean slumped in his chair, relieved but still uncomfortable. “Still think I might call it off.“

Bobby grunted. “It’s ok to move on, too. He’d want you to be happy.”

Wincing, Dean said, “Not sure happy is in the cards. But you’re right. I don’t think he’d want me to be alone.”

“Ruby ain’t the one, though?”

Dean shrugged and gestured helplessly. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something isn’t working.” Dean finished the book he was working through and yawned. “This guy need his information tonight?”

“You got work in the morning?” Bobby said.

Dean nodded but added, “I can stay if it's urgent.”

“Get out of here, boy. I got this. Whatever it is hunts in 6 day cycles, and we got 4 more days before it kills again. You go on home; take care of yourself.”

It felt bad, leaving Bobby hanging, but he hadn't actually asked Dean for help. Dean had been looking for an excuse to stay away from his empty apartment a little longer and offered to help a while. If it was really urgent, or Bobby was really lost, he would have pulled Dean in earlier. It didn't happen much, and he remembered how scared Bobby had been of asking at all. Like Dean was going to load up and hit the road at the reminder that monsters existed. But no; he'd done his time, and he was starting to accept that. The parts of it he missed weren't the parts he could get back, anyway.

He yawned again. Being a respectable member of society sucked. “If you're sure. You'll call if you need me?”

“Course I will. See you around, Dean.”

His apartment was dark and quiet when he got back. The secondhand couch was worn and soft, and just a little bit saggy in the middle. On the whole, the place was spartan, like he was waiting for something before he could move in. He wondered if it would ever feel like home. Tossing his keys on the counter, he bypassed the kitchen and went straight to getting ready for bed. Going through the motions by rote, he brushed his teeth, changed his clothes. In the bedroom he kept a—well, he wasn't sure what to call it. Almost like a shrine to Sammy. Sam's favorite knife, an old book Dean had found in the Impala, a soccer trophy he'd uncovered in one of their dad's storage lockers, all arranged neatly on his desk next to the photos he had of Sam. There weren't very many. He thumbed the worn photo of him and Sam that was on top, the one Bobby had snapped, catching Sam with his head tipped back in a belly laugh. “Happy birthday, Sammy,” he murmured, turning off the lamp and climbing into bed.

A minute or two later, there was a knock on his door. Confused and annoyed, he flicked the light back on and went to the door, fully intending to chew out anyone who thought a social call at midnight was a good idea. He threw open the door, freezing when he saw who was on the other side.

“Hi, Dean,” Sam said. He looked exactly like he had the last time Dean had seen him, only this time he was solid, real. Alive. “We've got work to do.”

[wanologic]

reminder to take care of your loser human body

[mymoonsight]

Reposting a comment I made on a post and adding to it

x Reader fics need to handle writing “reader” better sometimes

As a 6ft afab person who’s built like a man and has never been super feminine and has a more unique haircut that’s shorter I hate to read about “readers” petite, small, pale body and her “long flowy straight hair”, etc.

Reader is meant to be ambiguous!! And if it’s important to the plot please mention it at the beginning!!! If it’s not important to the plot why is it being included???

Some people who are reading may be tall, fat, skinny, short, or even somewhere in between. The readers could have a hijab, 4c hair, locks, braids, long hair, short hair, wavy, no hair and even more.

Stop making all readers so sweet and innocent, I want a reader who’s petty and sassy sometimes. I’ve noticed also that so many readers are either too baby to do anything or over powered.

Personally I also hate reading about obviously toxic men and relationships that the reader goes back to because they are “so in love”, like no please let me deck that sucker and leave them in the dust and be happier.

Also, if you label your post with the tag “___ x reader” or titled with “___ x reader” and then make descriptions and then ADD A NAME!!! It’s not an x reader fic and I heavily want to block you.

Edit:

Hey hello! I just wanted to add that I heavily respect and love fic writers! So many have a talent that I will never reach or have and I appreciate your content being put out at all! I made this post as a 5 am ramble and was half delirious lol

People can write as they please and I’ll ignore it if I’m not interested or I’ll make slight internal edits to fit me if I am

[tired-all-the-time22]

14-Year-Old-Half-Ghost-Vigilante Daniel Fenton experiences first-hand the universal blunder of Fucking Around and Finding Out for the nth time

Friends and confidants Sam Manson and Tucker Foley are not amused.

[colmiillo]

Seriously, you again, reading a fic about a person who doesn't even know you exist,OR WORST,doesn't even exist........same thing sis. Keep reading

[lilybug-02]

Ogrim overexerted himself a bit much...

Bug Fact: Grasshoppers existed more than 300 million years ago, long before dinosaurs roamed the Earth. Most are preserved as fossils, but are occasionally found in amber.

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