#potential ghost hunting AU?????

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Taunting Ghosts 👻

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Two idiots go ghost hunting, and it backfires. That's it. TW: bad jokes.

I know it looks scary, but I promise it's not. I was cracking myself up while writing it lmao

The ask is here!

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"Did we really have to fly all the way to fuck-knows-where in Spain for this?" Leon groaned in annoyance, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a flashlight as the both of you made your way deeper into the woods.

You rolled your eyes.

"I don't know if you know this, but ghosts don't exactly have a knack for phones. Or international flights."

He grumbled something illegible in response, continuing to follow you.

Ghosts, spirits, demons and the like had always spiked your interests. The ever wavering question whether there was an afterlife pulled at your brain. You thought maybe you'd convert to a religion to have your question answered, but never in a million years did you think you'd pick up ghost hunting.

It's a fickle thing, ghost hunting. The large amount of fake content for views made it hard to decide whether you wanted to believe in entities or not. You had to try for yourself. To quench the thirst for knowledge.

That's how you ended up here. In a deep woods in rural Spain, searching for evidence that the biggest local legend was ,in fact, not just a story.

It had huge impacts on the superstitious locals, keeping them from the heart of the forest.

It's said that an ancient cult inhabited these woods, performing rituals and sacrifices to appease their God.

All that is known about the cult is that they called themselves "Los Illuminados" and often used insect and hive imagery. A swarm that could only survive together. Should even the smallest fly fall out of line, it would mean the terrible demise of the entire cult.

The reason why you were here, however, was to investigate a particular event that supposedly occurred.

The cult craved more influence, their following never enough for the ambitious leader. In an attempt to gain followers, they took the daughter of the chief with the biggest village.

They'd planned to indoctrinate her and send her back, hoping she'd influence her father enough to teach their ways. The girl, however, was resistant and fought them every step of the way. In the end, to spare them any more trouble, they sacrificed the poor girl.

It's said that she stumbles aimlessly around the woods, crying and weeping to find her way back home. Uncanny wails have been reported by the locals, saying they came deep from the forest. Not only that, but low moans and groans that shook the trees supposedly stemmed from the followers, patrolling the woods in search of their leader who had abonded them for his own selfish reasons.

Leon gave you an unimpressed look as you told the story.

"A bug cult? That kidnaps people? A bug cult?" He asked skeptically, his brows raised.

You huffed, shoving at his arm.

"It's not a bug cult. They were firm believers of the hivemind. Although I think they took that a tad bit too literal." You answered, your nose scrunching up.

As much as Leon didn't believe in any of this ghost crap, he did enjoy your little adventures. Even if they were at night after you'd dragged him to some abondend asylum or something of the sort. He loved seeing you so passionate. Your belief also meant that you had immense

respect for ghosts and spirits, which ended up with you being very jumpy and scared at times. Leon didn't mind. He could play the heroic protector, having his arms wide open for you to shield you from any evil. He indulged you, too.

Going along with your theories and agreeing with you when the all common question of 'did you hear that?' inevitably came up.

He was a good boyfriend, after all. The best, actually. Always insisting he carry your bag filled with all of your gadgets and devices.

From spirit boxes over candles, salt, and bundled herbs to thermal cameras and Ouija boards. It was all safely stored in the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Dry sticks and leaves crunched under your shoes as you went deeper into the forest, illuminating the way with your flashlight.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face Leon.

"Oh, would you do me a favor and take this a little bit seriously? I don't need angered spirits on my plate, too."

"I don't what you're talking about, babe. I'm like a super legit ghost hunter." He scoffed jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile that tugged at your lips wasn't missed by him. Leon held his flashlight in all different directions, taking in the woods.

"You know, this is actually a pretty good spot if you wanted to start a cult." He mumbled.

You perked up, eagerly turning to face him once again.

"How so?"

"It's isolated enough so you won't be discovered, but it's not too far away that it would cause significant suspicion if a group of people would come from here. Either to indoctrinate or potential supply runs. It has some memorable spots, something that would help with remembering the way but would be of no meaning to outsiders." He explained.

Your face lit up as you listened to him carefully.

"That's fascinating-"

"Oh, and the bone crosses that were hung up on trees that I've been keeping track of."

Your expression fell.

"WHAT?!"

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

After Leon had gotten an earful from you, you were heavily fixated on the bone ornaments he'd mentioned.

He led you to one, shining the light on it. You examined it, pulling out a little book and putting down a quick sketch of it.

The ivory, although darkened and withered, stood out against the dark and rough bark of the tree.

"You said you saw more of these?" You asked in a mumble, eyes trained on the bone in front of you.

"Yep. All along the path we went down."

"Interesting... Oh! What if they used them as-

"-trail markers?" Leon smirked, watching as you grumbled something about him being a know-it-all little shit.

"But it's brilliant! A clear sign for the followers but due to the beliefs of the locals, none of them would've dared to step past a tree marked with a bone cross..." you mumbled in amazement, a smile spreading on your face.

Leon smiled at you adoringly.

"My clever little know-it-all." He teased with a grin which earned him a huff and you sticking out your tongue at him.

You gazed a little longer upon your, well Leon's discovery, a strange and eerie aura making it hard to avert your eyes. Leon mirrored your actions, not taking his eyes off it as a silence fell between the both of you.

A gentle breeze was combing through the thick canopy of leaves, their rustling the only sound echoing through the woods.

After a moment, Leon broke said silence.

"Should I touch it? I kinda wanna touch it."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped towards him. "Leon, no, no do not touch the-"

"I'm gonna touch it."

"NO, Leon, don't you dare touch that cross-"

Your warnings were for naught as his hand was already reaching out. Before you had any chance to stop him, his fingertips came dangerously close to brushing against the bone.

He couldn't make contact with the cross, however, because just as he was millimeters from touching it, it fell to the ground.

You let out a loud shriek, startled, your hand slapping over your mouth. Leon flinched slightly but regained his composure quickly.

He had to hold back a snort at your reaction, instead deciding to wrap his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"It's alright, sweetheart." He murmured into your hair.

"I swear to god, if we're cursed now I'll kick your ass." You said sharply, staring at the now broken pieces of bone that somehow still formed a cross as they laid scattered on the ground.

Leon scoffed.

"We're not cursed. Besides, I'll protect you from any evil spirits."

Your expression softened and your heart swelled. How sweet of him. Ever the hero, putting your safety first-

"I've watched all the Ghostbusters movies."

"LEON SCOTT KENNEDY-"

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Despite the chill and unsettling feeling that sat deep in the pit of your stomach, you refused to give up your search quite yet.

You followed the markers even deeper into these haunted woods, hoping you'd find something at the end.

And find something you did. It was a large clearing, the moon fitting perfectly into the space of the trees when you looked up at the sky.

It was like they split just for her, asking for her light to shine down on them.

"Wow, look at this.." You beamed quietly, turning in every which direction.

What stopped your gazing was a large stone structure resembling an altar. It had a symbol carved into its front, only barely visible as it was obscured by moss and weathering.

"Oh shit, so they were real..." Leon mumbled, walking closer as he inspected the altar.

"There's always a bit of truth to a legend!" You smiled, pulling out your sketch book to draw the symbol, or what you could see of it.

You made sure to faintly sketch in any cracks and scratches. You wouldn't miss anything on this. You wouldn't let yourself.

"Ha! What did I tell you?" Leon beamed, breaking into a laugh as he pointed at something on the altar.

"It is a bug cult!"

There was a small colony of insects huddled together in the middle of the stone table.

"It is not a bug cult." You replied, unimpressed.

"What are you talking about? That one is clearly preaching a sermon." He argued with a serious tone, gesturing at one of the bugs being proped up on a small rock.

You looked at each other for a beat before Leon started cackling.

"He's not- it's an insect!" You tried to stay serious, but the idea of a tiny cockraoch indoctrinating even tinier cockroaches had made a mental picture appear in your brain.

It didn't take long before you, too, were in tears of laughter.

"Can- Can you imagine him having a robe and a little staff and everything?!" You wheezed, holding your stomach as your combined laughter bounced off the trees and into the night.

Leon was doubled over, steadying himself on the altar. You were gasping for air at that point, trying to calm you nerves with deep breathes. Your mistake was looking over at Leon when you'd thought you'd calmed down, only making the two of you break into another fit of laughter.

You were wiping tears from your lashline, inhaling sharply, determined to finally get it together again when you noticed streaks of deep crimson running down Leon's arm.

"Oh my god!" You gasped, rushing over to him.

"What the hell happened?! Are you okay." You asked frantically, inspecting his hand for any cuts or other injuries while wiping away the blood with your shirt.

Leon didn't move, only staring at his bloodied hand.

"Sweetheart..." he said lowly, making you look up at him with a concerned look and furrowed brows.

"This..." he swallowed before continuing," this isn't my blood." Leon stated quietly, keeping eye contact with you.

"What? But how could-" you chuckled breathily, your gaze drifting to his hand.

Your eyes widened as they fell to his arm that you were clutching, not a scratch in sight.

You looked back up at him with parted lips.

"Oh crap."

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I hope it made you laugh at least a lil bit :D

More of my works -> 💫

《taglist》: @vampkennedy @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @argreion @leonslittlekennedy @allysunny

lmk if you want to be added to my Leon taglist!

[starry-bi-sky]

Hi uhh I really love your Damian and Danny siblings short. I wonder if uhh will you add a more connected story.

Also how did the mirage happen and is it only Bruce and Damian who saw it?

thank you! And honestly I might add a more connected story (i posted a miscellaneous post about the danny from that post because I was still thinking about him). The more I think about it though, yeah probably? I'd like to explore that reunion between Danny and Damian at some point. Plus Danny's experience in Amity Park and his growth from there.

The post was meant to be more of a prompt for other people to take inspiration from and add their own ideas onto, so the mirage was something I kept purposely vague so that people could come up with their own theories about it. But for my take on it? Magic user in Gotham that they got in a fight with. It was a physically visual mirage so anyone who was in the room could've seen it, and it was capable of being picked up on the cameras in their mask/cowls (which i hear is a thing sometimes) so it can be replayed back in the cave.

[darkeneddawning]

Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 5. Hunt and Haunt.

~Well, here we go again, good old Ghost Hunger AU~

Description: The Ghost Zone is inherently a violent place. You can hunt or be hunted, there is no other options. However, for some reason the Halfa does not understand what is happening. And no one rushes to explain it. NB! ghost cannibalism is mentioned.

Prompt after memes

Suppose there’s a conventional division among ghosts. Some of them are potential predators capable of hunting their own kind, while others are only able to absorb the surrounding energy and therefore build up power more slowly than hunters.

So, predation is used as a method of survival in poor ectoplasm areas of the Ghost Zone, less often as a means of gaining power. Even less often hunters are created.

It is obvious that the appearance of a hunter who is the son of human ghost hunters in a haunting place without stable sources of ectolasm has caused panic in the society of the dead ones. For the newly formed ghost to have ectoblasts, fangs or ghost sense is a rarity and great luck. So the newcomer had everything and more to be a serious threat. An awful danger for the surrounding spirits…Right?

But Danny doesn’t know the specifics of his new biology ectology!

Even though he’s a hunter, he’s never had a ghost hunger. Probably because thanks to his parents he has an amazing ectoplasm concentrator in the basement. Soon everyone understands that the boy does not attack first. Those who return through the portal never report any losses at all. He does not bite or attempt to capture cores of other spirits. At first, the ghosts think it's a trap. Smart enough for a beginner. Not everyone has the tenacity to pretend to be an idiot to get close to them. But the Phantom never feeds on them. He’s…safe?

What’s more, Danny seems to think they’re a threat to the city. Which is fun and weird. Normally, there is no competition for feeding using human emotion. But the owner of the lair did not like the smell of fear in the air. Is this ghost broken?

When the ghosts who visit Amity realize that the halfa does not know that he can hunt them, rather than just guard his territory...Well, it explains a lot. Everyone agrees not to explain the situation to the boy so that the city behind the portal remains a relatively safe haven during the during a "hunting season" and other troubles in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~

The problem arises when Phantom begins exploring the Ghost Zone. What if the other hunters make the boy stop being a freak?

In addition, more experienced ghosts may well attack the careless halfa. And Amity Park under the control of a more predatory spirit would be a terrible outcome. Most dead ones near the portal are used to the fact that the area before Wisconsin is open to travel and migration without the threat of being eaten.

All rational ghosts try to avoid the territory of hunters. If you can’t defend yourself, there’s too much risk of being a free meal. It’s much safer to settle down with spirits with similar energy levels at door clusters. If the hunter does not purposefully show up at your lair, you will have a much better chance of keeping the afterlife.

Those of the Ancients who have won their position and those of them who were created for it have become accustomed to isolation. Although all the Ancients have lost the need to eat 'cause they have absorbed enough energy, legends about their past are still be nightmares for all spirits. Just because they don’t need to eat other ones doesn’t mean they won’t. It is clear that a weaker hunter can also be hunted. No reason to risk.

Therefore, how freely and fearlessly Phantom communicates with Frostbite, Clockwork or Pandora is puzzling. Does he feel threatened at all? The Ancients find this experience refreshing. Lil communication without fear makes them feel sympathy for this youngling. Danny is always glad of their company. And the boy is not afraid to express his opinion. It is strange but...pleasant?

Their minions from time to time complain that they teach a potential enemy but it is very difficult to see a possible rival in Phantom. Danny is always in trouble. The youngster is silly and careless. Like a wet kitten that can’t even make a threatening hiss. So Ancients, to their own surprise, don't mind helping him. Why isn’t his naivety annoying?

For example, Frostbite’s trying to teach Danny hunting and tracking techniques because he thinks the little cub doesn’t know how to be what he supposed to be. Meanwhile Danny sees his attempts as a course of self-defense that he can use against ghosts who try to infiltrate his city.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

Some insufficiently powerful ghosts mimic predators to scare away dangerous spirits and protect themselves. Skulker is quite pleased that he managed to deceive halfa:

[studioghibelli]

who we were | a joel miller x reader

summary: lost in his ways in an increasingly dangerous world, joel miller has accepted his fate: to be a lone ranger, crossing the vast stretch of the continental united states in search of his brother. when you, the daughter of his closest companion and memory of what the world once was, ends up in the wrong place at the right time, joel miller has no choice but to face the past he so desperately wants to forget.

warnings: post outbreak au, dbf!joel miller, loss of a parent, cold & emotionally reserved joel, unspecified age gap, violence, fluff, canon divergence, no ellie, a lot of angst. 18+

note: this is for @pedgito summer lovin writing challenge :) sorry it took me so long to post this yall, i got sick as fuck and had no motivation lol. also not spell checked or betad so potentially a few errors. anyways, enjoy pookies xx

He remembers the stench of burning flesh. The charcoal colored embers flickering up into the air, disappearing into the vast expanse of the night sky. He remembers the aching in his throat as he watched the world of his past rot away, remembers the sound of the tears, the shuffle of gravel beneath sore feet.

Joel Miller remembered the funeral of your father like the scars on the back of his hand. It was seared into his memory, never to be forgotten, another locked vault within the confines of his mind with a key that was now lost.

Each time he saw you, he felt it. The dull, distant, throbbing ache of regret, of pain, of bitterness. It formed in the line of his scowl, the narrowing of his eyes, in the way he would turn his shoulder to you, ignore your desperate pleas.

“What’s gotten in to you, Joel?” You’d ask, cold fingertips reaching for a sleeve they would never feel.

“You haven’t always been like this.” A stray tear, a compressing chest, the sinking realization that the man you’ve known for so long had suddenly begun hating you.

He knew it hurt you. He didn’t seem to care.

You had first caught wind he was going to see Tommy up in Wyoming from Tess on a late night run.

“Leaving in about three days.” She said with a shrug, a sizzling cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. “I’m not going. Done chasing that man.”

It was the night before Joel left that you put your foot down. You walked with purpose, fire right behind your heels, angry and seething and fearful and sad, unwilling to be left behind in Boston.

Lonely, strict, suffocating Boston.

It reeked with the stench of your father, the air of your childhood lingered in the bricks of the street. You would do anything to get away from it all. Every window you walked passed held the ghost of your dad’s face, every vendor spoke with the inflection of his voice.

He was everywhere, and you hated it.

Your fist slammed against the door of Joel’s room. An angry Tess, half asleep and covered in the remnants of a bottle of moonshine, was the fate you faced once the old hinges of the door creaked open.

“He already left.”

“Without saying goodbye” was the fact left unspoken.

When you first began hunting him down, you weren’t sure why. Whatever you felt for him was never something you verbalized, nor was it something you allowed yourself to feel.

It was foreign and terrifying, something you had never had to face before.

And something Joel had never had to either.

The throbbing of your heart against your ribs when his fingers would graze past yours, the way your stomach would turn at the sound of his laugh, the way you’d squeak out a thank you when he gave you an extra piece of meat at dinner- all of those little moments had compounded over time, and you were left face to face with a love that was embarrassingly unconditional.

Unfortunately.

The memories of that man were no more. Whoever he once was not who he had evolved in to, and no matter how many times you told yourself that, you could never manage to move on.

You could remember the summer days, the golden light of your younger years, when your father was still alive and Joel was still illuminated with bullet holes of humanity. When he would take you on runs, when he taught you to shoot a rifle, when he stitched your palm back together after a nasty accident with a rusted piece of boat metal.

Joel was always there. Always.

Your dad’s best friend, his closest companion in a world whose hallway lights were flickering on and off, the power quickly dwindling.

He had been your Joel for years.

The unspoken red string of fate had tangled the two of you together in a whirlwind of something neither of you knew the name of. It fabricated itself through the holding of hands on cold winter stakeouts, in the quiet movement of your eyes- a wordless language only you two could decipher. It ended with a kiss, a fleeting moment of passion- or of weakness- depending on who one would ask.

And after that, Joel hardly spoke to you again.

You wanted answers. And if you had to cross the United States to get them, then by fucking God you would.

It had been three weeks since you left the QZ. Three weeks of tirelessly searching for him, following the track of shoe heels in the mud, fresh tire skids- the way your father taught you to track down raiders when you were young enough to be playing dress up and make believe.

You stole a care from an empty lot that reeked with the imprint of cigar smoke and old bourbon, and after nights of almost falling asleep behind the wheel, you had managed to find yourself in Chicago.

Cities were scary to navigate on your own, with vast networks of clickers and fungi lurking behind every corner. Even more intimidating, however, was the present threat of humans who had forgotten what it was to be, well, human.

Your car, a Toyota built before you were ever born, had given up on you halfway in the city, and you had managed to make your way to the Field Museum. The moment you saw it, you forgot about the danger, you forgot about the ever looming threat of flesh eating creatures and overpowering thieves. All you knew was that whatever wonders of the world were being held in there, were wonders of the world you needed to see.

So see them you did.

For a fleeting moment of euphoria, your mission to find Joel Miller was forgotten. He was forgotten, erased from your mind entirely as you gazed upon the forgotten treasures of the past world.

A plaque describing a 4,000 year old Egyptian boat stood before you, and you stared with wide eyes and a smile that made your cheeks ache. You had almost forgotten how to smile.

You wiped the grime off your hands, pressing your palm to the barrier that separated your body and the artifact, wondering what the wood would feel like beneath your fingernails, wondering what it would smell like to sail it across the water.

It must have been so simple back then, without the apocalypse. It must have been like a slice of Heaven, where your biggest enemy was the neighboring country and not being turned into a mushroom headed cryptid.

Yeah. Must have been nice.

You kicked at a torn, weathered pamphlet that had molded into the floor boards, walking down the long, winding halls. In the distance there was a creak, unfamiliar and gut wrenching. The sound of a boot on wood, the brush of a backpack strap on the wall.

You weren’t alone.

Reaching for your gun you crouched behind a towering Brachiosaurus skeleton, peering through its leg at the shadowy figure in the corner.

What should you do?

If your father were here, he’d know. If Joel was here….

Joel.

You almost felt guilty for forgetting about him momentarily. Almost. You probably would have ached more if he hadn’t forgotten you to begin with.

Your knees ached behind the fading denim of your jeans, pieces of gravel and broken glass digging in to you as you peered over the ledge, watching a flickering flash light inspect the corner you were hiding in.

“Come out!” A deep, guttural shout, a mask of intimidation worn by the other person as your cover was blown. You felt your stomach drop, aflame with the nervousness of what could be.

Would they like you up against the wall, shoot you prisoner style? This man could pin you to the ground, do as he pleased. He could cut off a limb, feed you to a clicker, make your life living hell. For all you knew he could keep you as his prisoner, drag you to some QZ or stake out full of grimy, sweaty, gross troglodytes.

Instead, the flashlight wavered over your face, silence engulfing your bodies as you showed yourself, arms in the air, gun forgotten behind you as you took a slow, meagre step.

“You got me.” Your voice betrayed you, cracking at the seams as the syllables poured off your tongue like gritty sand.

“What the actual fuck?” Your name tumbled off the strangers lips, and soon you realized he was no stranger at all.

He was Joel.

Standing there, lips parted, flannel dirty with the hand of an arduous journey.

He was Joel.

Eyes wide like a fawn caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, flashlight barely held beneath his fingers.

He was Joel.

Looking at you as though you were an exhibit behind glass, an artifact of the past world that had been lost in the harsh tundra of time, forever frozen into the sunken faced, tear stained woman he knew from the funeral of his best friend. The woman he had constantly been pushing away, running away from in hopes his thawing heart would trip and stumble along the way, leaving him alone forever more.

“Joel?” You spoke, dumb struck with the realization of who lingered before you.

“Why…. I-” Joel, for the first time in a long time, could hardly form a sentence, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like a drying cotton ball.

“Came looking for you.” You took a step towards him, slowly lowering your hands to your sides.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.” Joel went to open his mouth before you cut him off. “Even if the feeling isn’t mutual.” You retrieved your gun from behind the dinosaur exhibit, sniffing to yourself as you holstered it and turning to him. “You left me in Boston.”

“Didn’t have any other choice, kid.” Joel shrugged his broad shoulders, a ripple of air shuddering through his chest as he took in a deep breath.

“Of course you did. There’s never just one choice. You know that.”

Joel scoffed to himself. “In this world, there is. Only choice any of us got it to survive.”

With a roll of your eyes you kicked at the ground, spinning around to meet his gaze once more. “You’re so full of fucking shit, Miller.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I said you’re full of shit.” You lowered your voice, mocking his slight Southern twang. “All we can do is survive. Blah blah blah. Fucking barf.”

“Now you’re tryin’ to teach me a lesson or somethin’?”

“Somebody fucking has too! Sure as shit isn’t gonna be my daddy, is was it?” You snarled, picking up a pretty necklace that was draped over a broken glass case. You tossed it at him, the jewels hitting against his chest.

“Dumbass, that was a fuckin’ 3,000 year old necklace!” He held his hands up to shield his face, taking a step back. Even after all these years, Joel was still somewhat of a gentleman. He wasn’t going to throw that necklace back at you- both of you knew that.

“Oh, but I thought only survival mattered?!” You shouted, picking up a rock and throwing it at him.

“That was fossilized dinosaur shit! Stop throwin’ things at me! You fucking psycho.” Joel’s upper lip curved into a nasty snarl, eyes narrowing like an angry pit bull. You narrowed them back, challenging him to do something, anything.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Your voice rang off the walls, and you picked up whatever was nearest to you, putting your shoulder into each throw.

“Stop yellin’, woman! And stop throwin’, God dammit.”

You dropped the fossil in your hand, staring at him.

A long moment of silence passed on by, uncomfortable as it blanketed itself around your shoulders, weighted with the presence of what once was, covered in the fur of the terrible awful thing that had been born and grew between the both of you, festering like an open wound year upon year.

“It’s just us here.” The words were barely a whisper from your mouth, and Joel’s face sunk.

“What did you just say?”

“It’s just us here. Remember?”

He swallowed, thick and sturdy in his throat, blinking rapidly. Joel was half convinced his ears were deceiving him, memories of that night flooding back, rushing through his head like rivers of blood, pounding at his cerebellum until he could hardly stand.

The forest air was thick with trepidation, the browning leaves of autumn shaking through the breeze. A storm was coming, brewing behind the dark clouds.

A twig snapped, pulling you from your thoughts.

Joel stood there, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He held a loaf of bread, tossing it towards you.

“Hey there little lady.”

“Hi.” You smiled up at him from where you say, dropping your gun to walk towards him. When he held you, his arms were warm, thick and gentle around you like a fleece blanket. He held you to his chest, a palm pressed to the back of your head. Joel smelled like smoke and stale bars of soap, like soil and denim.

“Anybody follow you?” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his flannel, and Joel’s chest vibrated with a short chuckle.

“It’s just us here.”

You nodded, breathing him in. His scent had burned its way in your nose, you knew it as well as your own.

Joel’s hand fell to your cheek, dark, distant eyes swirling with something quiet, something he would never dare speak out loud.

“I gotta tell you somethin’.” His voice was a whisper, softer than you had ever known it to be.

“What is it?”

“I’m goin’ to find Tommy. I want you to come with me.” His face wore a mask of stone, his voice sturdy with a hint of hope. “I can get you there safe, somewhere far from Boston.”

“What about dad?” You furrowed your eyebrows, hand lingering over his rough knuckles.

“Your dad’s gettin’ old. I don’t know if he’d make the trip.”

“We can try, can’t we?”

Joel sighed, stepping away from you. He looked tired. Eyes wrinkled by the corners, lips a thin line across his face. Joel was younger than your father by more than decade, but he knew what this world could do, how it could seep into your bones and gnaw at your life force. He knew how tired he felt at fifty-six, he couldn’t imagine what it was like after seventy. And he knew, although he never dared speak it out loud to you, that your father didn’t have much longer.

There was a crack in the distance, the shuffling of feet over twigs. Heavy boots dragging across the wooded floor. In unison you pulled out your guns, holding them in the direction of the potential assailant.

Uncharacteristically chipper, with eyes shining beneath what little light had swept through the canopy of branches, your dad walked towards you, a sore smile across his face.

“I knew I’d find you two here.” His voice was tired, kindly, the voice you had known your whole life.

“Dad! How did you-”

“I’m not naive, you know.”

Joel lowered his gun, coughing into his hand as he searched for a sentence that would never come. “We-”

“I’m not mad at you, boy. Or you. Just wanted to let you know-”

It happened so quickly you barely had time to comprehend the scene unfurling before you. A stray clicker, a pained scream, spurts of blood covering your body as decaying teeth tore into an artery. Your face was painted in the crimson of the man who gave you life, and as Joel took down the monster, you had never felt a weight as heavy as your lifeless father’s body.

The walk back was torturous. Something unspoken began to rot in the bones of both you and Joel. The silent banshee of resentment.

The museum air was humid, and you watched Joel lean against the wall as he caught his breath, his balance wavering as you made your way towards him.

“Remember?” Your voice cracked as you reached towards his face, your thumb brushing across the height of his cheekbone, swollen from a bruise you didn’t want to know how he got.

“How could I forget?”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot these days.”

Joel scoffed, and your shrugged, taking a seat beside him on the ledge. “It’s true. You forgot me.”

“I didn’t want to put you in any danger.”

“Bullshit.”

He turned to look at you, and your eyes met. Joel sighed a heavy, heaving sigh, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand. “Fine.” You watched as he stood, pacing in front of you. “Fine. You got me.”

Crossing your arms, you waited for Joel to speak again.

“Watching him…. you know- That could have been you.” Joel crouched down in front of you, his dark brown eyes pleading with your own. His teeth gnawed at the inside of his cheek, his hand hovering against your sides, too scared to touch. “I just want you safe.”

“You were selfish.” You croaked, the back of your hand wiping at your face. “You would rather leave me without saying anything than face the prospect of something happening to me. Because you didn’t want to get hurt. Newsflash idiot, you’re the one who ended up hurting me.”

Joel let his hands fall into his knees, his gaze tilting to the ceiling of the museum as he racked his brain for an answer- for anything, really.

“I grew up in this shit hole. You’ve always kept me safe.”

“And I always kept your dad safe, too. Look what happened to him.”

“He’s gone. I’m not, Joel! You can’t treat me like some- like….. like some fucking museum artifact!” You threw your arms in the air in annoyance, steam blowing from your ears as you stood up. Joel followed suit, and soon you were chest to chest. With a sigh, the palms of your hands found his arms. “I got myself all the way here. Without you.”

He nodded, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “You did.”

“Let me come with you to Wyoming. Please. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Joel stared down at you, unsure of what to say. What was there left to say? You had made up your mind, and if he knew you, he knew you had always been stubborn. You weren’t going to relent now, especially since you had followed him all this way.

“I abandoned you. I left you in Boston. Why the hell did you come all this way?” He shook his head, partly due to disbelief.

“Because I love you.” You shrugged, reaching for his hand. “Because I’m a fucking psycho, apparently. Because I don’t know when to give up, or when to take a hint.”

Joel’s mouth tugged with the ghost of a smile, and his thumb slowly traced down your cheek. “You are a psycho.”

“So are you. I’ve watched you tear men apart.”

“And I’ve watched you throw priceless Egyptian artifacts.”

You smiled, nodding as he pressed his forehead to yours. Joel held you the way he had always held you, your chests pressed so close together you were sure if it were just a few degrees hotter, your bodies would melt together.

“Don’t leave me again, yeah?”

“I won’t.” Joel whispered, his hands dragging themselves down your back. “I won’t.”

“We can get to Wyoming and figure everything out. Take a breather.” You whispered, your face resting in his neck. He smelled the same. Like old soap and soil, sweat and denim. It settled its way back into your nostrils, the nostalgic sense of familiarity weaseling its way into your chest.

“Why wait until then to figure it out? We’ve got a whole museum to ourselves right now.” Joel pulled away, and his calloused palms held the sides of your head, his umber eyes meeting your own.

You stared at him, unsure of what he was about to do, not quite positive on what his next move would be.

He kissed you.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth into your own, lips molding in to the others as he pulled you close, eyes tight as he allowed himself- for the first time in what felt like ages- to come undone against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, unwilling to let go, and kissed him back, hungry for the taste of him.

“I love you too.” Joel confessed into your mouth, and you couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you.

When you pulled away, that unspoken feeling, that was now very much spoken, glimmered behind your eyelashes.

“I know. You’ve never been good at hiding it. Except for that time you left me in Boston.”

Joel grabbed his gun, slinging it across his shoulder as you took his hand, walking down the dusty hallway together. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never.”

“I’ll have to make it up to you then.” Joel glanced down at you with a grin, and you nodded in agreement.

“You can start by shutting up and taking me to the Tiffany exhibit. I want to steal a necklace.” You grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as you approached a fading navigation map.

“Gonna throw that one at me too?”

“Maybe. If you don’t shut the fuck up.”

[amazeingartist]

alien vibe times (octosoap edition)

“alien soap being an apex predator species that ghost’s team finds floating in a test tube during a laboratory raid. soap’s conscious and floating around, tracking ghost’s movement in particular with large star filled blue eyes”

(slight divergence from the writing to this but shhh it’s fine)

(and full design here with all my little starting notes and scuffed as fuck photobash doodle)

here are some more notes that go into it a bit more if you’d like to read em (I basically made the species first and then was like, “ok soap your this now” lmao)

(also sorry for not posting for a bit before the global strike, hopefully this makes it up a bit)

currently calling the species “cephalopinna,” literally just combined scientific names lmao

physically they look like an octopus given seal qualities, but they don’t have as many bones as most of their body is just pure muscles. the bones they do have are dense like most aquatic life, and are there to support vital organs or provide the most simplistic skeletal structure

the planet cephalopinna live on is entirely water, with the landmass being submerged and most of the time floating along with the planets current. plantlife does exist, these landmasses varying in size and vegetation—from coral reefs and underwater forests, to sandbanks and floating debris.

cephalopinna are an incredibly intelligent and semi-social species, usually only straying away from other members of their species when a pair are incubating their young

cephalopinna are monogamous and only have one partner, at most two if the first partner dies, otherwise they can die from loneliness after being paired

cephalopinna also have up to 4 spawn but usually only one or two make it maturity. also technically have eggs that are kept tucked away under the hood of the adults neck, next to the gills so that they’re oxygenated and once born, cephalopinna will raise their young to maturity (young could be called pups, cubs, or whelps)

they are incredibly territorial and both male and female “equivalents” of cephalopinna will fight off a competitor to be paired (I say equivalents because there is no proper determination or designation of a male or female sex within the species by human standards)

courtships are dances where a pair will flash colours, gifts of food, and tests of intelligence via what could be considered puzzles (intelligence is highly regarded among cephalopinna)

the front fins have claws that can used for hunting, foraging, fighting, even potentially grooming (gently scraping off algae and parasites) and are very functional as hands as they sorta have a thumb claw

cephalopinna are incredibly large but are excellent ambush predators, laying in wait to latch on and bite while pumping prey full of venom. if the ambush fails, they will chase down the prey till they are close enough to prick them with venom to then follow behind from a safe distance as the prey succumbs to their incredibly potent paralytic toxin

their teeth can crush through bone, nothing of the prey is ever left afterwards

they have a long life expectancy

the connective tissue between their primary tentacles stretch to cover body, while swimming cephalopinna will cover themselves to be more hydrodynamic. they also often do this when sleeping out in the open to protect themselves.

cephalpinna grind their back teeth, like deer, which reverberates through the water, add it with their aptitude for colours, this form of communication has multiple meanings

they have an incredibly advanced camouflage ability, which helps soap in particular in this au appear human. for whatever evolutionary purpose, they have the ability to breathe earth’s—and a few other planets—atmosphere, however they do need to be kept appropriately hydrated it would seem

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seven —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: some chill stuff before more angst ya know

The next morning, it is your turn to slip a treat into Blue’s hand.

You can tell by her expression that the Twix bar is like gold to her. Her teeth sink in. She stifles a moan. She hisses a swear you haven’t heard yet— Fucking noodles.

It reminds you of the time Paul found a Cadbury egg for Joseph. You smile as you watch, the kind where your teeth manage to poke through and your cheeks have to do some stretching. Ghost is chopping wood somewhere on the other side of camp, but still, you decided to close the shed’s door. 

Last night, you were too worn to stay in the cabin for long. You left just after Ghost shucked on some large helmet with two strange eyepieces attached to it. To see in the dark, Blue explained in a whisper. Of course he would have that. When you asked him where he was going, he’d mumbled under his breath, Gonna make sure you didn’t have any bloody followers. You hadn’t even thought of that. He must not have thought of it until you actually showed up, either. He expected you not to make it.

You don’t know how long he was out there, but by the fact that you’d woken up to his axe chopping wood instead of heads, you figured the territory was clear.

“Better than Nutella?” you ask Blue.

Grey light streaks through the shed and over her face. The smell of potential rain looms in the air.

“That’s a tough question,” she says, licking the residue from her lips. She’s eaten half. She folds the wrapper over to cover the rest and hands it to you. Sweets like these are rare. You told her you’d keep it in your bag until she wanted the rest.

“I think it’s a strong tie,” she decides and then groans, moving her chin to the dip of her folded knees. “I wish chocolate could be hunted.”

“Me, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rest?” She sounds guilty. “It is your Twix.”

“No, really. It’s a thank you.” Your knee gives a nudge to hers. “As if you haven’t given me food that is yours before.”

The guilt turns into a smile.

“You know,” she then says, eyes flicking to your pillowcase bag of looted goods. “When I was looking at your clothes last night, I got an idea of how you could fix them. Can I—” she tilts her head, “Can I show you something?”

She leaves Grim with you as she departs to collect whatever it is she has to share. It turns out to be a magazine of all things. She clutches it to her chest, rolling her lips together before turning it around to show you. The bright ink is faded a little. The corners bent and worn. The date of the issue reads March 2018. There is a woman on the front - some model you can’t remember the name of - clad in a tight blue dress.

The sight is just as weird as the abandoned streets and homes. For a moment, you look down at the skin of your hands, abraded from your bowstring, and press your lips.

“Remember how I told you Ghost and I went to a military base once?” Looking back up, you nod. “Well, we were mainly there to get ammo but we also went through the barracks— that’s where they slept.”

She explains it as if you have no clue, which you don’t. Never in your life did you care about the military, except for that first day when you hoped they might come to find you in some big tanks or something. They didn't.

Blue giggles. “I found this in one of the men’s old dorms.”

When she sees your expression, she says, “It’s okay. I’m not stupid. Ghost told me his old teammates liked to look at pictures of pretty women sometimes when they got bored. Anyway, I’ve looked through it so many times. I like all the fancy clothes people used to wear.”

She begins to flip through the pages and points out a few things. Where before you sometimes zoned out, your mind distracted by survival, this time you listen fully. One page has an ad with lush grass in the background and she informs you that the shade of green is her favorite color.

“Not blue?”

“That is my name, not my favorite color." Her nose scrunches. "What is yours?”

Do you even have one? You think for a moment. What comes to mind are the flowers your mother used to grow at the house in Norbury.

“Violet,” you softly say. “Like the flowers.”

“Huh?”

“They are like… a bluish purple.”

“Oh! There are some flowers like that by the pond sometimes. Hopefully, they come back this year."

Another page she points to has people laying on a white beach with crystal-like water. Blue says she hopes to go there someday. Not to just any beach. That beach.

When she passes an ad with a young man’s face on it - someone about your own age - she pauses for a moment and looks up.

"Do you think he is cute?" she asks. A tender curiosity.

"Um," you can't remember the last time you saw a man's face besides Paul. Ghost is always covered. She holds the page up so you can see it better. A sharp jaw. Dark hair and a strong nose.

"Yeah, he is very cute. Do you think so?"

She nods and bites her lip. "Did you… have a husband before shit happened?"

"What?" You frown. "I'm not that old."

"A boyfriend, then?"

"I had," you search the memories. They feel unimportant. Buried. "I had a few people who I enjoyed spending time with in uni."

"Like sex?"

You almost choke. "What?"

"I am not stupid," she says again. "The rabbits. They do it all the time. Ghost told me that's how they have their babies, and that is how him and my mum had me."

Oh. This is the first time Blue has ever mentioned her mother and you don't know why, but it makes your stomach tight. But she doesn't add anything else about her, as if she'd just told you the sky is blue or Grim is her friend. Something so casual. Brushed aside. As if, she hadn't mentioned it at all.

You don't pry about it.

Not to a kid. Trauma, grief— you can only imagine what a young brain has decided to do with them. But for a moment, your brain tries to imagine what kind of woman it could have been, what kind of woman Ghost enjoyed spending his time with. The only thing you can picture is Blue's eyes. She clearly didn't get them from him.

Blue moves on from the picture of the man. The page she really meant to show you is of a woman wearing jeans with a belt around them. She points to it and explains you could try something like that for the jeans you found.

Right. Jeans. Along with the blouse you grabbed, you got an ugly pink sweater and some jeans that won’t fit you.

"That’s called a belt," you say. “I don’t have one.”

“I have an old shoelace,” Blue says. “How about that?”

“That could work.”

Blue tells you bluntly that you need to bathe first. You smell like those fucks, no offense. You take your new clothes and she finds you a rag. In the bathroom, you harshly scrub your skin to erase the smell of rot. You wash your hair which is slick with sweat.

On your wrist, you notice a light bruise growing where that Grey had grabbed you. Luckily, you were too tired last night for your brain to conjure up any nightmares, otherwise, you probably would've had one about it biting you. Even a bite to just your hand - to a finger - would be enough for the virus to enter the bloodstream. You don’t want to admit it, but with that revolver, Ghost saved your life again. 

After bathing, you slip on the blouse and a pair of too-big jeans. Blue gives you the shoelace. You feed it through the belt loops. It works well enough. The pantlegs fall past your ankles so you roll them. You tuck the large blouse so the excess fabric won’t get in the way while you hunt. The sweater… you don’t bother with it for now. It’s not warm enough. You will stick with Paul’s old coat when you go outside. 

You look in the mirror again.

You stroke your own cheek, looking yourself over. You smooth your hands over the clothes. Underneath, you feel the plush of your breasts. The muscles of your stomach. The curves of your ribs. You are almost back to your normal weight, but it is still evening out. Under your eyes, the skin remains grey. Floorboards and stress will do that to a person.

"Let me see," Blue says on the other side of the door before you open it. You can still hear Ghost chopping wood outside.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” She touches the sleeves. “These are pretty long. They will get in the way when you shoot arrows, right?”

You nod. “Can you bring me the scissors?”

After you cut the sleeves down to your wrists, Blue picks up the scraps of fabric. “Hey, you could tie your braids with these. Like ribbons.”

"I could," you shrug and give a smile. "But I think they would look nicer on you."

The shyness returns as she nods. Gently, you guide her in front of the mirror and begin working your fingers through her hair, just as you do most evenings.

You notice her staring in the mirror with studious eyes as if she is trying to understand exactly what she sees. You wonder if she ever compares herself to those girls in the magazine. An eleven-year-old you certainly used to.

"You look very pretty, Blue."

"It doesn't matter if I do," she shrugs. "It's not like anyone will ever actually get to see me."

"Well," you swallow, "I get to see you right now, and I think you are pretty."

"Thanks.” She accepts the compliment with a puckered expression, before it softens and she adds, "I think you are, too, Twix.”

Twix?

But before you can question it, you hear the front door shut and realize that the sound of chopping wood has been gone for at least a minute. It is clearly Ghost entering the cabin.

You drop your hands before you can finish the braids, stepping back. 

He calls out her name.

Recalling the rifle he pointed at you yesterday, you whisper to Blue, "Maybe you should go out before he—“

But of course, his heavy boots approach. The dark shadow of him materializes in the bathroom's doorway, consuming the space with his head dipped down to fit.

You turn around to face her father at the same time Blue does. His brows are drawn low and in one hand he carries the axe. You notice a sheen of sweat at the bridge of his nose where his mask begins.

The thing is, you try to avoid being spotted alone with Blue like this. She talks to you in your shed. You interact when he is busy with things.

Ghost reaches for Blue’s hand. He gently tugs her to him. He cups the back of her head and bends down to meet her level, though he is still much taller.

"Remember what we talked 'bout?”

What did they talk about?

"I remember," she mumbles. She tugs her arm away. "I was just helping her with her new clothes.” Smoothly, she changes the topic. “What do you think? The shoelace was my idea."

Blue. You almost groan, feeling his dark eyes slowly shift over to you. You think you would rather him press the axe to your throat than share his opinion about your clothes— they aren’t exactly like what the models in Blue’s magazine wore. His stare rarely does anything other than burn holes through your skin, so it is no surprise when you feel the heat through your blouse, up your neck, and all the way to your cheeks.

You look down at your feet.

Then, a bitter memory comes to mind.

You look like you're one 'em already.

That is what Ghost said once.

For a brief moment, you wonder if he still thinks it.

He doesn’t give an answer. All he does is clear his throat. Your strange curiosity fades as he stands and looks down at his daughter. 

"C'mon, kid. Start the fire with me."

"No, not yet. She needs to finish my hair, Ghost."

He allows it, but remains in the doorway, watching as you finish her braids, using the fabric as floral bows to tie them off. 

It looks nice.

It rains just like you thought it would.

Not too heavy, but enough to cut your hunt short for the day, earning you only one squirrel.

When you return to camp, you find Blue crouched over the wood planter as she covers the sodden soil with a layer of mulch. Apparently, Ghost had her plant some cabbage seeds before the rain. The mulch is to stop the seeds from washing away, she explains.

Spring will soon arrive. With it, some crops to add to their meals. Good for them. Maybe you can convince Ghost to lend you a seed or two to plant for yourself. 

After dinner, you sit by the fireplace with your boots off in order to warm your toes. The soft drum of rain against the cabin's walls lulls you into a trance as you listen to Ghost quietly read to Blue. Sometimes he points to words for her to try.

Tonight it is a book you recognize.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Your father read it to you once. A younger version of yourself told him it was too boring. But now you find yourself quite liking the story about a magic wardrobe where kids can escape to another world.

Blue falls asleep on the couch. Ghost carries her to bed like usual. It is your time to leave. The rain has died down some but you already know the water has probably leaked into your shed. Lovely. 

But again you are stopped by a hand around your arm. 

You turn to see Ghost. He clutches the map in the other hand.

“Um. What is it?”

You slip your arm away, his grip allowing it. Is he mad about you hanging out with Blue? Did he discover your secret exchanges? Is he going to finally kick you out since you didn't die like he probably hoped?

“Sit with me.”

You raise your eyebrows. He motions for you to follow him to the table so you sit down, hands in your lap, and pick at the skin of your knuckles. He spreads the map open. He also has a pencil in his hand. Between gloved fingers, he fiddles with it before sliding it over to you.

To your surprise, he demands, “Show me where you went.”

Although confused, you abide, making a small mark over the village. Ribchester. 

His eyes narrow. “Not jus’ that. Show me which way you went.”

“This way,” you say, annoyed by his tone. Faintly, you draw a line through the forest all the way to the highway. “Then I followed the road.”

He takes the pencil from you and slides the map back in front of him, sweeping his eyes over the marks you’ve made. Under the black fabric, you detect the contour of his lips pressed into a straight line.

“How many were there?”

“Not many, really,” you admit. “Do you… Are you wanting to go there?” 

You furrow your brows as you recall what Blue said. They don't make trips often. It is not like Ghost has much need to. 

“No.” Not looking at you, he draws a mark some kilometers south of the one you made. “I want to go here.”

“Why?”

“I need ammo.” 

His voice is clinical and gruff. You definitely prefer it over threatening. As he continues, it officially becomes the most words he has ever spoken to you. 

“Went to a base over here two years ago.” He points a gloved digit to a spot on the east side of the forest. That must be the trip that Blue was talking about. “Wasn’t much left. Took what I could.”

“You’re all out of ammo, then?” 

He gives you a flat look. “No. But I’m runnin’ low. I don’t want to wait until I am all out to go. Need some ammo to make it there, don’t I?”

“Why haven’t you gone sooner?” you pry slowly. “Why do you want to go now?”

“Got a bit more to lose than you do.” 

It is a harsh truth, inviting a sharp breath through your lungs. What he means is he has someone he loves, unlike you. Someone he can’t just leave behind on her own.

You realize that Ghost probably avoids leaving this haven he has set up for that very reason, and maybe it is also why he is particularly conservative about their supplies. Whenever they end up running low, he has to drag her along with him to get more. The threats out there can be hard to predict. You’d been lucky. 

Ghost continues.

“But if you could make it through here,” he gestures back to the marks you made. The route can act as a way to the military base, but he would still have to go further, maybe 10 kilometers past the village. “Then I can make it that way with her.”

You nod slowly as you begin to wonder why he is telling you this. But then, it sinks in, a pit settling in your stomach. If they leave, where are you supposed to go? 

Ghost must read the expression that takes over your face. You don't wear a mask.

“You’re comin’ with us.”

“What?” You stand up, shaking your head as you hiss through your teeth. “No. I don’t want to. I just fucking got back.”

“You’re not staying here on your own,” he growls quietly. “I’m not askin’ whether you want to go or not.”

You catch his eyes. Black glass reflects the dim glow of the fire.

Of course.

He doesn’t trust you enough to stay here.

You have no choice.

[gwenthebard]

Dunegon Meshi Scooby Doo AU where Laios is increasingly upset all the monsters are fake because hes spent the whole episode coming up with a potential recipe for the monster theyre hunting.

Double so on the annoyance when they get to Zombie Island and the ghosts are real but undeniably human so they cant eat them

[hearts-hunger]

Welcome to the 2023 GVF Fic Writers Halloween Event! Prompts are below the cut, but first, some info about this very spooky affair.

٭ The rules are simple: pick a prompt from the list below and write a fic about it! The prompts range from particularly Halloween-y to just general autumnal vibes, and you're welcome to riff off any of them in any way you choose. On your post, please note which prompt (or prompts) you picked for your fic!

٭ This event is open to all GVF writers, whether you're a seasoned vet or a first-time writer! If you're a reader, show your love for GVF writers by liking their fics, reblogging them, and commenting in the reblog or even just in the tags. All fics from this event will be reblogged by me and added to a masterlist that will be linked in my bio!

٭ Fics can be written for any and all pairings — x reader, slash, platonic, x oc, multi, whatever you like! It's also open to any length fics (blurbs, oneshots, series) and all genres, from vampire sexy to candy sweet to scary movie spooky and everything in between. Please make sure to clearly tag any potential triggers in your fic — we want this event to be accessible and fun for everyone. Please also use a readmore in any fics that are longer than blurb length, just to keep the dash tidy.

٭ Absolutely no negativity will be tolerated, whether from readers, writers, or anyone else. This is a community-building event, and if you're not here to have fun and be kind to others, don't be here at all.

٭ Tag your fics with #gvfhalloweenfics. To make sure I don't miss your fic, please tag me (@hearts-hunger) so I can reblog your fic and add it to the masterlist!

٭ The deadline is technically October 31st, but I'm happy to add fics to the masterlist any time before or after Halloween if your creative energy is grooving or lagging. You can also write as many fics as you want!

٭ Now that I've talked your ear off, let me say one last thing before we get to the prompts: my asks (with anon) and dms are always open for any questions about this event! Please reblog this post to get the word out, and tag any writers you think might be interested! Happy writing, and happy Halloween!

1. carnival haunted house 2. real haunted house 3. pumpkin patch 4. apple orchard 5. scary movie night 6. campfire ghost stories 7. baking halloween treats 8. carving pumpkins 9. trick or treating 10. decorating for halloween 11. making costumes 12. putting on halloween makeup 13. halloween bar crawl 14. ghost hunting 15. monster/ghost/witch au 16. county fair 17. halloween party 18. exploring a graveyard 19. adopting a black cat 20. playing with a ouija board 21. buying halloween decor 22. dark magic 23. a walk through the woods 24. cosy coffee date 25. camping trip 26. hay ride 27. local oktoberfest 28. cabin vacation 29. halloween/autumn wedding 30. starting a new halloween tradition 31. fic based on a halloween song

[harveywritings92]

{Slasher au: Ghost and König are scoping out The roadside Bun-bun’s (It’s restaurant like Hooters but bunny themed.) that R/n works at for potential marks, when they see their girl, bringing food out to a table next to them.]

R/n, as she’s placing the plates down: Okay, we got one jumbo sub combo...one Chicken leg and thigh, with coleslaw, Pull-pork with sauerkrauts ..

{One of the men is staring at her butt and he gets this slimy smile on his face as he slowly brings his hand up intending to cop a feel... König sees and slowly went to get up while reaching for his knife, but Simon quickly stopped him.]

R/n, noticing the creeper going for her ass: *low tone* Yer gonna lose that hand, Hun....

[The guy hesitates for a tick, but goes for it, next thing he knew R/n got a hold of his thumb and...*snap* the groper yowled in pain as he held his obviously broken thumb.]

Creep, yelling to the owner: Hey, Price, this crazy broad just broke my freaking hand! 

{Price whose smoking in a corner and counting out the till, glares at the creep and points at the large sign at the door. “🛑LOOK ALL YOU WANT BUT DON’T TOUCH THE GIRLS‼” the creep growls and angerly storms out of the restaurant.]

R/n: ...Anything else for you today, boys?

Creep’s friend 1: *nervously*  Uh, no. I'm good.

Creep’s friend 2: Yeah, me, too. Totally good.

[R/n huffs then turns to face her boys but finds their booth empty, with a $10 bill on the table and single post-it note that said “Gone hunting, see you at home.-S&K.” R/n hummed and calmly tucks the note away into her bra. She did warn the Creep he was gonna lose that hand...]

[theshadowrealmitself]

DP au where the trio all independently become ghost hunters and their secret identities are hidden from each other

Danny still becomes Phantom, Tucker makes ghost hunting drones essentially and sends them out while he hides in the distance (dude gets super into it, a whole secret “X” identity with voice modulators and all)

And I’m not too sure what Sam would do, become her version of Batman? Find a ghostly artifact that puts her on ghosts’ level? Spells, maybe?

The important part is that all of them become well known ghost fighters and they have those identities hidden from each other to “protect their dear friends”

(Like all superheroes do, because somehow them not knowing that there might potentially be a villain who comes after them for being friends with a superhero is better than not knowing and not being prepared?)

Each have dramatic internal dialogues about their “sweet” and “innocent” friends who wouldn’t last in a ghost battle, simultaneously, during lunch

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

[mi-i-zori]

The Hunter and The Prey

CoD Fae!AU - Fae!Ghost x f!reader

SYNOPSIS : When the Hunter finds herself vulnerable in the middle of the Frost, a certain spirit decides to make it clear who exactly she belongs to.

WARNINGS : Gore, body horror, violence, predator behavior (Fae VS Human)...

Author’s note : This is part 3 of The Hunter’s story. As always, my take on this AU is inspired by @ghouljams ‘s works.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

Her wards are no more, and she doesn’t know why.

This hunt was supposed to be an easy one. And it had been, in a way ; her target had been born not so long ago, and couldn’t gather enough magical power to give her too much trouble. Yet, as she prepared to leave, all her protections had suddenly shattered, leaving her with only her weapons and experience to fight her way back to safety.

A curse falls from her lips. She can feel the shadows slowly tighten around her, their weight hindering her progress through the snow. She has become too vulnerable to be ignored. An easy meal for the beings of the Frost.

The creatures move within the misty darkness of the trees. In their hollow eyes, she sees nothing but the reflection of her own fearless expression. Although wary of the multiple weapons lining her clothes, they linger, waiting for the moment their potential meal will falter ; for a breach to exploit in the seemingly unbreakable walls of her mind. Yet, according to the magic dancing around her, a danger far greater than all of them combined hides in the shadows. While still keeping an eye on the freezing monsters, she steps forward, looking for the outline of a masked silhouette amidst the smog.

She survived many similar situations, she thinks. Hell ; as a child, her father even willingly put her in danger to hone her hunting skills. She can do this.

With a snarl, of the beasts suddenly rises in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she adjusts her stance in the slippery snow. Her dagger sits comfortably in her hand, its iron blade glistening in the wintery sun. Her opponent launches its scaly body at her, and her arm gets ready to plunge the cold metal in its flesh ; but the monster is suddenly covered in multiple layers of smoke, its muffled cries echoing within what soon looks like a thick, misty cocoon. It vanishes seconds later, leaving only a broken, hollow shell in its wake.

A cold, eerie silence falls upon the forest. The young woman suddenly tenses as black tendrils slowly wrap around her, dancing at the edges of her vision. The remaining creatures’ mouths tremble, teeth instinctively ready to rip the flesh from her bones ; yet they can’t stop a series of whimpers from escaping their throats as they crawl in front of the power emanating from the strips of darkness. A large, gloved hand rises from behind her to rest on her chest, a newfound warmth settling against her back and somehow preventing her blade from striking the invisible threat.

In front of her, the monsters take a step back. They know that, even with her wards destroyed and her body covered in wounds, the Hunter is still a threat to their very existence. But as a skull mask emerges from the overwhelming darkness above her, they all understand that, right now, the Spirit of the Fog is the one they should fear ; especially when he is powerful enough to remain unfazed by his close proximity to the living weapon standing right under his palm.

She can feel him shift behind her. His body curls around her own, just enough to dip his head against her shoulder. And, despite his size, he still manages to keep her back flush against his front. She can feel his breath on her neck, probably way too warm for a fae of Winter.

Just like his entire being.

It took her days of cleansing to get rid of just half of his scent. She has a feeling he is going to make this process much longer because of this.

And she knows it’s working just like he wants it to by the way the monsters in front of them keep cowering under the threat of the Ghost’s power.

- Fuck off.

His tone is commanding, somber, cold. The beasts don’t waste a second to scramble away, leaving them both alone in the middle of the misty forest. The silence weighs heavy on her chest as the fae keeps his hand above her heart. A single wrong move could be the end of her, whispers a voice in her mind, and her instincts are torn between fighting him and remaining still.

- Not trying your luck against me, Hunter ?

His low timbre echoes against her back, shaking her very core. Everything about him screams danger. She stays frozen as he slowly turns her around to face him. Her eyes stay focused on every one of his languid movements as he takes off one of his gloves to grab the hand holding her blade. Lifting it to his throat, he slides his fingers against the sharp iron, unbothered by the vicious burns it leaves on his skin. He tilts his head with a low hum, prompting her to answer. The ice of his eyes glow under his balaclava.

Whatever he is, she thinks, she greatly underestimated him. She barely manages to articulate the question that has been bothering her since he showed himself, her teeth almost cracking under the pressure of her jaws.

- You were the one who shattered my wards, weren’t you ?

The Spirit lets out a deep chuckle that sends shivers down her spine.

- What a clever girl.

He leans towards her, the bone of his mask coming to stand right before her face. His free hand steadies her in place when she tries to put some distance in-between their bodies, allowing him to get even closer to her ear.

- One more reason to make you mine.

She finally manages to push him away ; and he lets her, obstructing her view with a thick layer of smog when her dagger tries to strike him. And, just like the first time they met, he leaves her alone in the middle of the Frost, his back fearlessly facing the predator she was raised to be. But as she watches him disappear into the shadows, she can’t help but think that, right now, she feels more like a prey than ever.

What is he ?

[vladdyissues]

I like Vlad and the concept of Badger Cereal... But in canon, Skulker was probably a better frenemy to Danny...

Because 1. Skulker never flirted with Danny's Mom...

2. Danny and Skulker have some level of actual respect for each other, while Danny only hates (and kinda fears) Vlad in canon (Danny felt a bit of sympathy for Future Vlad, but that's it)...

3. Skulker teams up with and succeeds in helping Danny at least 4 times (in prison, facing Pariah Dark, facing Ghost Writer and the green asteroid), while Danny teaming up with Vlad ended with them losing to Pariah and later Vlad only helping last minute to lock Pariah away, or Vlad ditching Danny to get attacked by Vortex...

This isn't Vlad hate, I'm just saying that most people overlook Skulker's potential, as a frenemy to Danny. 🤔

I'm gonna have to politely disagree with you here, anon 😂 Skulker attempted to straight up kill Danny—repeatedly—and makes regular threats against his life. He wants Danny's dead, flayed carcass nailed to his trophy wall, in no uncertain terms.

This is his enduring MO. Vlad had to step in and literally save Danny's neck in Bitter Reunions.

It makes Vlad's flirtations with Danny's mom seem pretty negligible, to be honest.

Skulker also tried to slaughter Dash along with Danny in Micro Management, and he pitted Valerie and Danny against each other in Life Lessons for the sole purpose of hunting the stronger of the two.

Cranial tether ball is pretty damn metal gruesome. This dude is like the bloodthirstiest Klingon who ever lived. Except for the Christmas episode and his brief cameo in Phantom Planet, he's never not presented as a serious threat to Danny's life. He's out for blood and guts in the worst way. I just don't see him ever reaching "frenemy" status with Danny (in canon, at least; what happens in fanfic and AUs is a whole other ballgame, just like Badger Cereal and Cheese Melt).

[talzane]

Highly disappointed that the “Infinite” Realms is always just full of ghosts. Monster AUs have so much potential, especially with all the DC crossovers. Vampires that can subsist off the pure energy of ectoplasm present in the air, so they’re never hungry. They can grow/hide/exist all by themselves. Alternately, the realms could act as a base of indefinite preparation for them if they decide to do anything to an infinite number of worlds. Werewolves that are free to play like wolves, to hunt the game they seeded their own dimension/realm with, to be perfectly free. The Yetis who used their magic to make their own home in the Realms as the Ice Age began to fail them. Duulaman’s Egypt, home of an entire sorcerous people, capable of casting the souls of their people into an eternal realm where they could thrive forever in, essentially, the field of reeds. The Mummies found there reanimated so that their revered ancestors could walk amongst them again, or their bodies rejuvenated (good plot there if Hotep-Ra, a traitor, was left as a mummy by his people when everybody else was brought back to life). Pandora, Guardian of Hope, and her Realm of Elysium, a home for all the monsters of Ancient Greece who were cast out/shunned/destroyed by society. A place of healing for the traumatized Minotaur (he was raised to kill people in a dark maze, that’s gotta be traumatic), cursed Medusa, etc (seriously, a rehab center where you can literally hold Hope in your hands when you have none...hek). Not to mention, since she guards Hope, it could be a literal object, and Vlad stealing Hope but not knowing how to use its power is a *highly* interesting plot to me. Somewhere that Desiree, a djinni, can avoid the people who’d only attempt to abuse her power to grant wishes. (There are so many more things to add...Liches, Witch Covens, Dora and Aragon’s Kingdom of Mattingly [dragons], other creatures) Sure, some beings there--like Skulker--want to fight, but by the very nature of Lairs/Realms, he can’t follow others into their homes and expect to survive, so they are safer than anywhere else. The ghosts and creatures that love to battle are free to do so in the regenerative chaos of the realms. The ghosts who want to be left alone can find their own slice of infinity. It truly is, or at least could be, a paradise for everybody... Which makes Pariah Dark so much eviler. The moment he awoke, he destroyed people’s homes so they couldn’t hide from him, he enslaved entire peoples to make thralls for his army, he devoured ghosts--absorbing their essence--to rebuild his lost strength, he used those armies to attack the realms capable of resisting him for a time, he pulled a resisting city into the Realms as an act of aggression. Everything he did was in stark contrast to the path of existence the nations of the realms had chosen, and his will was absolute; all the beings capable of being compelled were compelled to serve him, every lich lost their phylactery to him and were forced to submit to him, every free group was under threat of slavery or extinction. Even Vortex and Undergrowth, two incredibly dark beings, resisted as well as they could, but had Danny not attacked Pariah Dark’s center of power, even they would have fallen. Essentially, Danny stopping Pariah Dark would have far more of an impact, yet also none at all as it would be mostly behind the scenes. Danny, all of fourteen years old, battled the evilest being to have existed at that time in a fight to the death without any guarantee of survival. Frostbite and the other beings, feeling the weakness of Pariah’s forces, since he was occupied with Danny and the attacking ghost forces, launched their own counterattack and arrived before Danny’s duel was over to see Danny, still so small even in the battle suit, fighting the titanic mass of Pariah Dark, King of all Ghosts. Frostbite, left arm shredded by a summoned beast, watched in fascinated horror as Danny’s strength waned, but he still forced Dark back. Pandora, Guardian of Hope, watched a tiny child stare down a stone-face goliath. Vortex, for all his wrath, couldn’t have stood against Pariah, but that diminutive whelp was a storm unto himself and nothing, not even Pariah Dark, it seemed, could stand against a force of nature. Nocturne, Lord of Sleep, King of Dreams, and once a slave to Pariah Dark, had suffered from nightmares since Pariah’s return; his dream realm had fallen, his sleepwalkers obliterated, his precious, harvested dreams destroyed, and Pariah had once again enslaved Nocturne, yet the power of Pariah’s ritual was waning, and Nocturne felt himself awakening from his nightmare. He watched a tiny child, someone who should be dreaming instead of facing down a nightmare, deliver the dream of the king of dreams; Pariah was being forced into his sarcophagus. For Frostbite, Danny became the Great One; to Pandora, he was a child of Hope, a miracle (it didn’t hurt that he locked a great evil in a box either); to Vortex, he was a little storm, a squall; to Nocturne, Danny was a savior and a dream come true, surely, Nocturne could repay him with good dreams...maybe even for the little one’s entire Lair... All I’m saying is that context is everything, and having Vortex be a literal embodiment of storms and nature rather than just a ghost with storm powers is a lot more enticing to me. Pandora being Danny’s ghost mom is great, but her seeing him as a child of what she embodies rather than just “he is smol, I must help,” seems richer. Then there’s the DC crossover potential once Danny inevitably begins letting the peaceful individuals stay in Amity Park under his protection, or sending those who’d fit in to the Infinite Realms (Mr. Freeze and Nora relocating to the Far Frozen where he can get all the help he needs, not live in his suit, and either turn Nora into a ghost or cure her, Poison Ivy to live with Undergrowth [kinda like that island she had in the Bahamas], Killer Croc most likely to Egypt, Harley would fit in with Kitty and Johnny’s level of crazy, etc.). Imagine Batman investigating all his missing rogues, but when he eventually tracks them down, he finds them living peacefully in an infinite realm of places where they can’t hurt anybody permanently, and the people there are similarly obsessive/crazy. But also, Ghost King Danny, Protector of the Infinite Realms, etc., etc., leading an army of “monsters” to defend Earth from Darkseid, or, since Darkseid is always after the Anti-life Equation (considering all their different abilities, it would make sense for ghosts/ectoplasm to be the essence of the equation), defending the Infinite Realms against Darkseid/the Anti-Monitor. That’s all neglecting the chaos potential of Jack and Maddie believing all things not expressly human are ghosts. I also firmly think that since the Infinite Realms connect all universes, there can only ever be one ghost/ectoplasmic entity of any given individual regardless of the universe(s) of origin, and I have written pseudoscience for it (using some computer science and physics ideas, so it makes sense with less hand-waving). That’s neither here nor there, so I will end this before it gets any longer. Anyways, that’s the thought I just had, figured I’d share it with y’all and see if y’all were interested.

[suncaptor]

hi! i hope you don't mind me asking, but i need a certified opinion on sam winchester and you seemed like the person to go to :D

could you rec me some good sam-centric fic & character studies? preferably for early seasons or pre-series?

i'm showing spn to a friend and they like sam a lot, but we are both. somewhat afraid to go into the tag lol. so I figured you could have something nice bookmarked or there's maybe a rec list i dont know about.

thanks!

Okay I actually mostly read later seasons Sam stuff (or at least s5+) because the more trauma the better <3 but here are some that are either sam studies that include earlier stuff or earlier/preseries (like kripke era)

DO check trigger warnings! since these are (mostly) pre hell (and I would not read w*) they aren't as bad as some of the sam & lucifer fics I'd share, but some still have different potentially triggering themes (like addiction, suicide, etc, so please just be careful! I'm assuming you can check the tags on ao3 <3)

also some are 18+, not sure your age but I don't personally want my followers talking to me about nsfw content if they are minors. so be wary around that too, but they're all outer links so ao3 will have them rated/stop you etc.

Sam w/ OCD rec list & my old Sam rec list

samjess

Sunlight by sp8ce, samjess

The first time Sam tastes blood it's human blood, and it feels like shame and the closest he has been to truly human wrapped up in one. He's never been so safe and in love. The second time it's electric and consuming. He has nothing left, but the desire to chase the power and hold on to the objective of revenge, only still connected at her touch. The third time, he's pretty sure it will kill him, burn him like purifying light from the inside out. --- An exploration of Sam and consuming blood. This work is the first time: with Jessica Moore.

also if you like samjess sp8ce has later seasons ghost samjess too&lt;3

sam & john

the type who doesn't burn by patrocluus

On a late October afternoon in 1997, John Winchester takes his son out into the woods and puts a bullet between his eyes.

make a mirror out of you by sp8ce - john kills jess (it's john pov though)

The thing about Jessica's death is that it makes Sa,m understand John more than anything else ever could and choose everything John's ever wanted Sam to choose. Azazel always seems to have John's silhouette.

sam / gen or multi

This Is the Way (The World Ends) by Lise

In Georgia hunting a skinwalker, Dean saw Sam. AU. Like, really.

Weblike Causality by sp8ce

Which came first? The fear or the inevitability?

instrument by sp8ce

Sam Winchester grasps with his own personhood.

Polaroid Sun Picture by sp8ce

Sam has been stalked his whole life in order to be manipulated into an instrument of his worst fears. He has no privacy to himself. He has no defence.

therefore I react by sp8ce

for a while, in the cage, all Sam sees is a tree.

(okay so I've tried to not give you any lucifer stuff but this one is a sam & learnt helplessness thesis for connecting past & present)

This Kid's Not Alright by safiyabat

What exactly did Sam get up to at Bobby's while Dean was at Sonny's? When John makes a very odd request of the older hunter, Bobby takes the boy into his home for a few months. It isn't an easy time for either of them.

the easy way out and the hardest part by queenbaskerville

Sam would rather die than be Lucifer's vessel. Lucifer will just resurrect him now, but there was a time before the seals were broken—a time before Sam broke the seals. To save the world, to save Dean—Sam knows what he has to do.

The Special Children by TheMightiestPen

After Dean reveals his Dad’s last words, he asks Sam to lay low for a while. This time, Sam says no. This time, Sam goes all in in his search for the other kids like him. S2 AU, for spnhiatuscreations on tumblr for week 5: favorite season.

sam & dean

Dear Abel by lowkey_existential_despair (it has samjess/early sam&dean basis okay)

It wasn’t always like this, is the thing. There used to be a time when caring about Dean was more than just a habit. There was a time, once, when seeing Dean with demon-black eyes would’ve been the worst thing in the world. But that was a long time ago. Now, he looks at this black-eyed version of Dean—wrapped in layers of chains, in pain, sobbing quietly—and he feels nothing. Nothing at all.

Purify by cenotaphy

"We know what happens when Sam drinks demon blood.

…but what happens when Sam drinks angel blood?"

Set at the end of season 4, before Sam gets out of the panic room.

Hell Fractal by sp8ce

Sam's last real memory is of Dean stabbing him after he let Lucifer out. Sam keeps, with varying levels of memory and awareness, waking up in the panic room. With Dean needing to kill him.

Man-in-the-middle by ambersock (who has some lovely fics <3)

Sam hears the driver’s side door open, hears footsteps approaching. He remembers that Dean still has Ruby’s demon-killing blade. Yet another voicemail fix-it.

The Choice by authoressnebula (authoressjean)

(this author has other early seasons sam&dean stuff)

One gun. One bullet. It's up to Sam and Dean to decide who will shoot the bullet…and who will die.

it’s not that i think i’m good, i know i’m evil by redskyatmorning

(author has good later seasons Sam stuff as well)

The conversation that leads up to Sam ending up in the panic room, again, to detox from demon blood.

Fade Far Away, Dissolve, and Quite Forget by Lise

You've seen isolation before, but not like this. It's not quite another hemisphere, but it's close enough.

Catharsis by BlueIris08

Sam copes with learning of Dean's promise to John in the classic Winchester way--with alcohol. Or, the drunken, angsty post-Croatoan/Hunted scene that didn't happen.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right by WilsonTheMoose

In which Sam gets beaten up (rookie), Dean mentions the voicemail (idiot), and nothing really changes (figures). Fits into the first episode of season 5. For an anonymous prompt on tumblr asking for Dean hitting Sam in the earlier seasons. This is not quite what you wanted anon, sorry.

yeah, well, i don't want to by AreYouReady

He didn't do it on purpose. / Dean sabotages Jess's warding in pilot

Comets, Stars, Haunted Houses, and Other Things Best Observed from a Hundred Million Miles Away by occasionallyalways

See also: violent deaths; apologies; lightning. Or; Something happened in the panic room. Something went wrong. Dean finds out six years later.

sambrady

One to Save You by sp8ce

If Brady needs Sam, he'll be there immediately.

The Piece You're Missing by sp8ce

Brady can't seem to figure out why Sam won't give up on him. They have a conversation where he tries to dissect and understand why.

Out by TheMightiestPen (also sam&dean)

A god-possessed witch reveals a secret that Sam’s been keeping for a long time. The brothers handle it like mature, well-adjusted adults, for once.

sastiel

Grace (made perfect in weakness) by Sidewoundcore (CherryHollow)

After he is freed from the panic room, Castiel, rather than Ruby, is the first person to find Sam. In the end, it changes nothing at all.

atrophy & other stories by saintsurvivor

early seasons sastiel that is sam centric

Monster by Ginipig (voicemail fic so mostly sam&dean)

After everything that happened between him and Dean with the breaking of the final seal, Sam is having trouble moving on. Dean's weird, sort-of helpful angel friend wants to know why.

Not that it's any of his damned business.

Comfort by Never_x_Better

Sam's being tormented by Lucifer and Castiel just wants to help him. Nightmares, blood addiction, hallucinations, and fluff ends up leading the two friends down an interesting path.

Wishing Is Cold This Year by Lise

Dean has his head rather determinedly up his ass, so it falls to Castiel to take this one. Post 5.03ish.

what did you bury / before those hands pulled me from the earth? by starlightswait

It’s the strangest thing. Sam’s in the Cage. And then he’s not.

(technically post kripke but it's my favourite sastiel &lt;;3)

Ruby Red by sp8ce (also samruby but I don't read or write a lot of samruby)

An exploration of Sam and consuming blood. This work has Sam reminiscing on Ruby. He then has more blood forced upon him by some hunters who think they can purify him. (can be read standalone or in series)