#spn ghost rules

[incesthemes]

you can tell just how codependent sam and dean are because they haven't even busted out the reaper binding spells or the ouija board or the crossroad demons to save bobby's life. bobby is allowed to die even if it's hard and painful and miserable. but not each other. never each other

[jasmines-library]

Could u pls do a Winchester sister fic like (season 10 ep. 15) but instead of the parasite going into cole it goes into the sister and Dean tries to shock it out like in the episode but then she almost dies and they have to try and find another way

The Things They Carried

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Word Count: 2284 (wow look at me go)

Warnings: Uhhh not sure how to phrase it. Overall gore, kinda throwing up?

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The woman had vanished without a trace. Well, at least at first. Her body was found strung upside down in the storage room of a remote part of the city Feyetteville, North Carolina. Perhaps one of the most perplexing parts of the victims disappearance, was that not only was she an Army Private, trained in Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu, but her organs had been drained, along with the bone marrow sucked out of her body. This is what had caught Dean’s attention. He now sat in front of you and Sam, the article pulled up on his ipad.

Sam raised his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling as he studied the article once more before handing it off to you. “So…cannibalism. You thinking a Rugaru?”

“Or a God. Maybe.” Dean agreed. A second later he was up on his feet, ready to go. Sam tried to protest. Ever since Dean got the mark of Cain Sam has been solely focused on trying to find a way to remove it. He was constantly on edge and you had to admit you were too. It seemed that no amount of research seemed to give enough answers on the mark. Eventually, with a look from his older brother and a defeated sigh, Sam let up and not even 10 minutes later, the three of you were speeding down the road.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrived in the city the first thing the three of you were told was that the local police had closed the case. However, they had given you a name, and the incriminating evidence. The sheriff; an elderly man, perhaps late 60s with white, thinning hair, had also told you that the offender had also committed suicide before the feds could lock him up. He also told you that this was the third suicide the city had seen in the last 6 months. A pattern. This was definitely something supernatural, if that wasn’t already clear. However, when Sam asked about the body, the sheriff informed the three of you that there were no bite marks, and that the victim had been killed with a bowie knife. That ruled out a Rugaru, leaving your trail dry.

The next step of the hunt was to speak to Beth, the offender's widow. She was rather distraught as she bounced her baby softly in her arms. When she glanced away from it, you could see the pain in her eyes; the dark circles that rim them. 

“Rick was a kind soul.” She insisted sadly, glancing down at the floor. The way she spoke of her late husband was filled with awe, but woven thick was pain that choked up her voice. You could tell that she still hadn’t processed her husband’s recent change in personality. 

“Did you ever notice anything strange?” Sam asked gently, his fingers clasped together as he leaned against the countertop. “Violent mood swings?”

“Weird smells?” You added.

“No….” The woman frowned. “But Rick was- he was-” she stuttered, unable to word what she wanted to say correctly, almost as if she didn’t really believe it or understand it herself. “He was thirsty.”

You tilted your head at her, her words catching your interest. “Thirsty for what?”

Her answer surprised you. “Water. He’d spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. And then, when I told him to stop it was like he couldn’t even hear me. And his skin; it got so dry it bled.”

Your older brothers watched intently. “Did he see a doctor?” Dean questioned gruffly.

The poor woman shook her head. There were now soft tears rolling down her face, mingling with the ghosts of the ones there before. “He just got put on a list to be put on a list. And then he stopped talking. He just wasn't himself–” she sniffled, shifting her baby in her arms. “I thought….maybe it was just PTSD.”

No one said anything for a moment before you broke the silence tenderly. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that Rick had been recently deployed.” Dean said. “Do you have any idea where?”

“No.” She answered rather bluntly. “That stuff’s classified. They don’t even let the wives in on it.”

And the trail runs cold again. 

But then, just as you were about to leave and Sam left your number, Beth stopped you again. 

“There’s one other thing.” she added. “I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She’s married to Kit Verson. A guy from Rick’s team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing.”

The trail picks up again.

After a little while running around after Kit Verson, discovering that he murdered someone else the same way that his friend did, the three of you ended up in an old shack that his wife believed he might have fled to. It was dark. Eerily so. However not as eerie as the trail of dead mice on the floor. Machetties in hand and guns in holsters, the three of your crept through the darkness of the hut. You found him hunched over in the back room of the house. His breathing was rough and ragged as though he might have run a mile at top speed. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, his head whipped around, bloodshot eyes boring into you. His mouth and face was splattered with blood and dirt, and his movements were erratic as he stood up to face you. He gripped you tight, cold fingers like icicles against your skin as he pushed you back against the wall. And then his eyes were pleading with you. The harsh crease between his eyebrows softened for just a moment as he used his body weight to keep you pinned up against the wood panelling. 

“I’m sorry,” he grunted out, wrestling with you to keep you in his grasp. “I can’t stop.”

And then, you were on the floor, dirty ground rising to meet you fast as he made you lose your footing. And then, as you struggled beneath him he made this awful gagging noise as the creature slithered out of his throat and forced its way into you. You coughed, gagging yourself as your brothers rushed into the room. They were on Kit in seconds, but he was strong, throwing your brothers around before dashing out of the door. Quick on his feet, Dean followed, leaving you staggering for breath on the floor with Sam.

“Are you alright?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he rushed to your side, helping you up off the floor.

You coughed. “Some-something’s inside of me–” a grimace spread across your face as you felt it move. “It’s alive–”

“It what?” Sam blinked. “What did it look like? Do you know what it was?”

“Khan worm.” Dean answered, catching on to the end of the conversation. “At Least i think it is. Why? Did you see it?”

You groaned in pain, so Sam answered for you. “It crawled inside her.”

Dean froze, his eyes going wide. “What?”

Sam nodded grimly. 

“Did you see what it was? Dean asked worriedly. 

You coughed, hands flying to your mouth. “Khan worm.”

“Shit.” Dean cursed aloud, running his hands through his hair. 

“We have two options.” You said, trying to hide the grimace on your face as you felt the worm moving, ,crawling under your skin. Neither of the two options were very pleasant at all. You and your brothers had worked a case with Khan worms a few years ago and there were two ways that you discovered the worms could be killed. And while these worms seemed slightly different to the first ones you discovered, you figured that they were similar enough that the same rules would apply. The first option was probably the most forward one, but it also involved certain death; a headshot to the infected person that would cause the worm to flee the body where it would then be crushed by Sam or Dean. Option one was very clearly off the table. The second was far more painful, but it also harboured greater chances of survival. 

Dean began to protest immediately. “No. No no. there’s got to be another way.” 

“You know we dont-”

“Kid….” Sam started. 

“Just do it. We have no other choice.”

Dean sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright.”

~

Dean had managed to find two batteries hidden in the small cabin. He placed them grimly on the table with a thud before connecting two of the jump wires that Sam had gone and collected from Baby’s trunk. You were sitting in the armchair, fingers gripping the leather as you waited anxiously. Sam tried to give you some comforting words, but you weren’t sure who he was trying to comfort more; you or himself. 

“Alright.” Dean said, his voice laced thick with an anxiousness and guilt he was yet to shake. He brought the cables over to you as you took a deep breath, placing a wooden spoon between your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue. 

Settling back in the chair, you took a moment to collect yourself. To prepare for the agony you were about to put yourself through. And then, you gave him a brief nod 

The sudden pain when Dean pressed the jump cables to your skin was overwhelming. Unbearable. A million agonies all combined to one as the electricity raced through your veins. You screamed, crying out as your teeth bit down on the wood of the spoon, which helped to muffle the sound. Both of your brothers winced at the sound of your agony as you twisted and writhed. Sam had to look away and Dean had to force himself to keep the cables against your skin though he yearned to take away your pain. But nothing happened. As soon as your brother removed the cables, you were panting for breath, trying to recover quickly from the pain. You couldn’t help but notice the looks on your brother’s faces.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head dismally. The parasite was still in you. 

“Go again.”

Dean startled. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Go again.” You strained. 

Dean collected himself, and then; the same pain. But still as you writhed. Fists clenching and nails digging into your palms the worm remained inside you. And your brothers were growing increasingly concerned. Your movements began to slow as you grew quieter and your eyes fluttered, drooping with a sudden heaviness. Dean pulled the cables away immediately and you slumped back against the chair. Your head lolled forwards against your chest and your breathing was concerningly slow and laboured. 

“Okay….okay…” Sam said gently, slipping an arm behind your back to help support you.You whimpered slightly at the movement. “ Shh. You’re alright sweetheart.” he glanced up at Dean, fear and worry evident in the creases on his forehead. They would have to find a different way to get the worm out.

~

You were sweating. Gods….you’d never been hotter. Your body still ached as you sat in the armchair of the cabin. The old leather was flaking off and was practically covered in a sheen of your own sweat. Sam and Dean had pushed it towards the fire, leaving you to sweat against the heat. They had figured that as the parasite needed water, if they could make you sweat it all out…then the creature would leave. But now you were practically slumped in a chair, dark veins crawling up your neck as you tried to rid the worm from your body. You coughed a little, your throat dry, with no way to soothe it. Thirst…..that was the only thing that consumed your mind…you were so. damn. thirsty. Your body craved it. Anything you could get you would take….even your own brothers’ blood. The parasite yearned for something. You could feel it, squirming around inside you. Uncomfortable, you whined before coughing a little, doubling over on yourself. 

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. You have to sweat it out.”

“Can’t–” You coughed. 

“Yes you can.” Dean shut you down quickly. “You can’t give up. Winchesters don’t quit.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your head spun. You felt sick. But you knew you couldn’t give up. You were in for a long waiting game. 

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were on the verge of breaking down that you began to feel it slithering up your throat. You gagged, coughing as you tried to expel the creature from your body. 

Sam and Dean were by your side in seconds, both trying to coax you through it, ready to stomp on the worm as soon as it made an appearance. Sure enough you managed to cough it up uncomfortably. It splattered on the floor, squealing as it writhed and trying to slither off to infect someone else. It didn’t make it far before Dean slammed a heavy boot over it. And once more for good measure. It squelched under his shoe, peeling off from it as it stuck to the floor. He grimaced at the sight before moving to crouch beside you, checking on you.

You wiped the string of saliva from your mouth with a grimace before gratefully taking the water bottle Sam offered you and wasting no time before drinking it to quench your impossible thirst.

“That's it. Easy, Sweetheart.” Dean cooed. “It’s over now.”

“You did it, kiddo.” Sam said, guiding you to lean back in the chair more. “We knew you could do it. We’re proud of you.”

(A bit of a rubbish ending! I'm sorry i wasn't sure what to do)

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SPN TAGS:

@xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @rosecentury

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[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[hils79]

Hils Watches The Spirealm - Ep 18

Sometimes I forget they're in a video game and then they say stuff like this

Time for a bit more anti-US propaganda. And she's not entirely wrong. The US does suck if you're not white and at least middle-class

I see this is going to be an ongoing theme. Also, I love that this facility is supposed to be in I think they said Kentucky but all the patients and staff are Chinese

Okay, so far this isn't as scary as the schoolgirl ghost. I want to know why the nurse ghost has a sword though.

Okay the creepy doll is a big no from me. If it comes to life I am quitting.

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

This dude who keep trying to trick people into breaking the rules is the absolute worst. I hope one of his tricks backfires on him and the ghost baby eats his face (or whatever I'm still not really sure what's happening)

Oh shit I thought she was going to get saved somehow but she got stabbed basically immediately after drinking the water the other dude had contaminated with forbidden food

Okay, what the actual fuck is happening? The dude that stabbed the girl appears to be giving birth to himself?

And now he's possessed the body of the girl that he killed?

There's mentally ill and then there's trying to murder you in order to win a game

Oh, look, another kaleidoscope

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT! I was literally just talking on Bluesky about how the haunted painting episode of SPN fucked me up and THIS IS THE SAME THING

God he is the actual worst I hope the nurse stabs him with her sword

Fuck yeah she kicked him in the balls!

Ruan Lanzhu always knows when a damsel (gender neutral because this also includes Ling Jiushi) is in distress and needs rescuing

[crack-in-the-chassis]

CRACK IN THE CHASSIS is a bang and a reverse bang at the same time--but not limited to fic and digital art!

WE WANT YOU to create a ridiculous crossover. WE WANT YOU to push the medium (any medium!) to its limits. WE WANT YOU to throw caution (and logic) to the wind. Dean Winchester microwaved a fairy. What can YOU do?

Don't forget: the bang welcomes ALL parts of the SPN franchise, not just the mothership! The Winchesters, two failed spinoffs with backdoor pilots, Ghostfacers webisodes, tie-in novels and comic strips, the journal entry about the ghost nuns. It's all fair game and WE'RE IN IT TO WIN IT.

Check out the INTRO POST for further information. Rough drafts for pitchers due July 5, Claims July 13.

SIGN UP HERE

Follow @crack-in-the-chassis for updates.

FAQ | Schedule | Rules

[gay-dorito-dust]

If you're open to requests would you write “are you hurt? you look hurt, are you sure everything’s okay?” from your prompt list with George Karim?

Again my brain is still firmly fixated on a spn x lockwood and Co crossover. They fit perfectly in my minds eye. Also I kinda had to break off the prompt a little.

“Hey Casper, why don’t you quit being a pansy arse and come on out for a friendly chat.” You spoke aloud in the dimly light hallway, progressing slowly as you searched room after room for the damned ghost, “I promise I don’t bite.” You add as you tighten your grip on your shotgun. “Much.”

You were currently on a solo ghost hunt in an abandoned warehouse where sketchy people relocated to do their dealings in and from what you gathered, there had been sightings from said dealers of an ghost that has been killing them off one by one in brutal fashion, but the authorities had all but swept it under the rug; seeing this as an golden opportunity to minimise the already alarming percentage of drug dealings within town.

You, however, had been itching for a simple salt and burn for a long while and weren’t about to pass up the chance of shooting some spectral visitors in the face with a shotgun full of rock salt, rather then fending them off with a flimsy Rapier; You had nothing against them but you preferred the way you’ve been taught to hunt over how people these days were being taunt.

You mean sure, it was effective and surfactant but you’ve always hated playing by someone else’s rules. You missed the tales Dean would tell you during his hunting youth but since his passing all you had left of him was his hunting gear, his hunting journals and the impala; All of which you took extremely good care of.

So when the ghost didn’t appear at your taunt, you began to grow annoyed and started doubting the dealers accounts of what happened. They could’ve been high for all you knew and the ghost they claimed to have seen was merely a symptom of the hallucinate drugs they’ve taken prior. However the sounds you’ve picked up on from your little ghostly visitor told you that there was a legit presence here and it was just fucking with you at this point and finding humour in your frustrations.

“Oh, just come on out so we can get this over with you shitty, fuckin-“ before you could finish your sentence the ghost appeared behind you and was about to make a grab for you when you managed to get out of dodge; taking a chest shot at it with your iron crowbar, causing it to dissipate briefly before coming back for another go at you from up close this time and before you could get a clear shot of it.

The ghost used it’s powers to push into a nearby wall, making a decent dent in it, which sent your gun from your hand and skidding just away aways from the ghost. “Simple salt and burn my arse.” You groaned in pain as the ghost was fast approaching you; Gifting no room for you to get back to your feet before being flung once again into a metal shelving rack which collapsed upon impact with your body and you to yelp in even more pain.

“Give me time to get up you unfair prick!” You exclaimed as the ghost appeared before you again, prepping to throw you for a third time, that was until you managed to act quick enough and grab an broken piece of iron, jabbing it into the ghost as it disappeared and within the short time span that you had; you ran back to your gun just in time to get a shot in when the ghost got uncomfortably close.

“Prick.” You spat as you limped out of the warehouse towards the sight where you found the bones of the ghost you needed to salt and burn- just behind the warehouse funnily enough- though not before parking the impala nearby for easier access for a quick getaway should the situation became too dire for you to handle single-handedly.

You nabbed the gasoline from the back of the impala and dumped the whole canister onto the bones before struggling to set the match alight that soon sent the bones into an fiery inferno. Ending the ghost’s reign of terror.

After concluding the case, you dragged your battered and bruised self back to the Impala, groaning in discomfort as you shifted into the driver seat before driving back to 35 Portland Row, London, aka where the people you’ve considered family were waiting.

By the time you got back to Lockwood and Co, you were barely able to stand from both your injuries and the fatigue that was quick to catch up to you directly after the adrenaline rush wore off. “Ah shit.” You cursed under your breath when you noticed that one of the wounds you’ve sustained was starting to bleed and were quick to press a hand against it as you stumbled in through the hallway.

“Y/n?” George’s voice called from the kitchen as his footsteps were quick and hurried as though he was in a rush to see you. “I’m fine!” You called out but it was too late to hide anything as George was stood across from you in the hallway, his dark, expressive eyes glanced from one wound to another. “Are you hurt? That’s a stupid question because You look hurt.” his rambling came to a stop when he saw the pain flash across your face as you put down more pressure on one of your more concerning wounds, “I’m okay.” You grunted.

“Okay? Are you sure everything’s okay because to me it looks like your bleeding out in the middle of the hallway.”

“It’s tomato sauce.” You defended as George was then set off into another rambling rant as he ride himself of his apron, tossing it onto one of the backs of the chairs before rushing to your side to support your weight as he helped you to the bathroom where the first aid was safely kept.

“George, I can patch myself up.” You whined as you were sat on the toilet seat whilst George pulled out the first aid kit, shooting you an concerned glare as his eyes once again scanned of your form. “Not in that state your not,” he tells you, “you look at though you went at it with a cinder block for a concerning amount of time and won by pure dumb luck.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle which only ended in you wincing in pain. “Stop making me laugh, I’m hurt and blessing all over the toilet seat.” You whined lightly.

“So you’re finally admitting that your not okay and that mysterious red stuff standing the carpet down stairs isn’t tomato sauce? Gee, nice to know and here I thought you were just pulling a belated April fools prank on me.” He utters sarcastically as he pulled together everything he needed before patching you up gingerly.

[kings-highway]

i’m sorry, but i was invaded by this vision: oikawa and kageyama. half-brothers. they haven’t spoken in years. kageyama attends a prestigious university (on some scholarship; i don’t know, this isn’t explained by the visions). he has a girlfriend. everything is fine. everything is great.

then his girlfriend hits the ceiling, engulfed in flames. and oikawa shows up at his university after several years of estrangement. he says their dad has gone missing, that they need to find him, and they must travel the countryside, whilst fighting demons, ghosts, and the devil Himself (and his evil cousin. or something) in a 1967 black chevrolet impala because oikawa is nothing if not loyal to his car.

yes, castiel is iwaizumi. no, i don’t make the rules. i am merely the messenger of the invasive visions.

and yes, i do believe this is an alternate, fucked up reality where you were into Supernatural instead of the X-Files, and this was our Paranormality. shivers. literal shivers.

hey real quick someone kill @mania-sama for me

im only justifying this with a response to inflict damage upon all my followers the same you have done to me.

1. who the fuck plays Becky and why does it have to be Hinata

2. a true KingsHighway project would have kept daichi at the center so this bizarrely also implies the universe in which I watch Supernatural instead of the X-Files, Daichi isnt my favourite character anymore and Im not sure what that means about Supernatural

3. Kageyama Tobio and the never ending string of murdered girlfriends

4. Kageyama Tobio and psychic demon powers?

6. If you watched Supernatural but haven't watched the X-Files, watch the X-Files. It makes no more sense than Supernatural ever did, but it'll give you back the years SPN stole from you.

7. just circling back around to make sure someone is gonna kill mania. they cannot keep getting away with this.

[ruinedsam]

I think it’s fun if Hallucifer looked like Sam this whole time because as it’s his actual Grace, he looked like his true vessel/the last person he possessed. So we don’t always know who we’re looking at, especially as time goes on and Sam starts to adopt Lucifer’s mannerisms. Close to season 11, there’s a scene where they’re practically indistinguishable, we cannot tell who is who because they’re dressed alike and it’s not clear if Lucifer has stated dressing like Sam or if Sam has started dressing like Lucifer, and we only find out when Dean enters and addresses Sam, the only person he can see. But I also think Lucifer should be growing stronger, so others can catch glimpses of him, movement in the corner of their eye but when they turn there’s nothing there except Sam is also looking in that direction, weird shadows on the wall in the shape of wings, freezing spots when there’s no ghosts, etc. And while we know Lucifer is still a separate entity from Sam, because of Sam slowly acting more like Lucifer, there’s a sense of unease in everyone else, there’s been discussions about if a vessel can be possessed by a portion of an angel; Castiel doesn’t know, because archangels are a totally different league and, most importantly as Castiel points out, Lucifer was still possessing Sam when Sam’s body was removed. Nothing like this has ever happened before, so they’re in uncharted territory. This is important because when Lucifer starts partially manifesting for everyone else, this means everyone’s wondering if this means he can now possess Sam. When Sam acts like Lucifer after this, there’s always an undercurrent of “is this Sam acting like Lucifer, or is this Lucifer?”

Supernatural, y’all should’ve let me be in charge of how Lucifer and Sam played out post-season 5. And we needed hints in season 6 that Lucifer is actually there, so there’s definitely scenes when Sam just knows things he can’t know yet it’s just subtle enough that none of the characters realized and us viewers only notice during a rewatch (but after the reveal of it really being partially Lucifer, we get a montage of all the signs and some are from season 6), Castiel is confused by one of Soulless’s physical symptoms because that shouldn’t be affected by not having a soul but there’s no established rules about how surprise soullessness affects a human and how that might be impacted by having demon blood or being possessed by an angel at the time of losing said soul so everyone assumes it’s just a Sam thing (because he’s a “whole new level of freak”), angels meet Sam and talk about him feeling like Lucifer but everyone dismissed it as it being a result of the possession (except someone comments later in the season that it should’ve faded at least a little by now and we hear a faint echo of laughter in Sam’s voice, but Sam himself is the only one to actually react so he was the only one to hear it and he’s not laughing so it wasn’t actually him but there’s nobody else it could be as far as we know), etc. 3/4

YES

Hallucifer as Sam makes so much more sense than Nick, and you're right, it would be very fun to use this to make Sam and Lucifer indistinguishable from another, making us wonder where Lucifer ends and Sam begins 👀

Yesss you should have been in the writer's room and saved us all from what they did to Lucifer!!! I love this slow burn where there are these ambiguous signs that could point to Lucifer but could also be explained away with Sam's unique circumstances. The reveal a couple of seasons later would be so rewarding for viewers. Spn can only dream of such good storytelling post S5....

[the-grey-hunt]

got tagged by @youghostandyoutrick

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

my WIP titles are....a little disappointingly boring LOL but i'll try to track them all down, my folders are by fandom, not by WIP status. some of these are looooooooong abandoned/put back on the shelf but I count them

Here There Be Gnolls—Critical Role/The Adventure Zone

i will learn to fly—CR

the gift (m9/qt)—CR/Queen's Thief

pike and pike—CR

burial—Ghost Trick

cab translation—GT

friends—GT

ghost trick postcanon 4.0—GT

live sissel AU—GT

the manipulator—GT

untitled document (two of them)—GT

hp/sep heap—fandoms are what it says on the tin lol

ineffability and witchcraft—HP/Good Omens

hp gabriel possession—HP/Supernatural

cas funtime—SPN

daemons—SPN (TLA)

gabriel???thing???—SPN (and HP? idk)

gabriel/bail—SPN/Star Wars

michael fanfic files— SPN (TLA)

new trilogy pt2—SPN/SW

Play 'Verse—SPN

possession—SPN (TLA)

IPRE/attypf—TAZ/TAZ fanfic

murder on the rockport express—TAZ/Poirot

ouroboros pt2—TAZ/Princess Bride

modern legend—SPN/HP

modern legend unfinished—SPN/HP

michael kills the dark and it gets worse from there—SPN (TLA)

tl;dr I Will Write Any Crossover. And Abandon Any Fic, Only To Descend Upon It Years Later (But Probably Not)

i tag @inukagome15, @notaficwriter, @redrobemerle, and anyone else who'd like to

[thegayangeldeservedbetter]

hear me out guys. I've been thinking. so Dean died and is a ghost now (right?) and Baby appeared for him. is Baby his ghost thing like the thing that bonds him to a place? like the flask to Bobby? because then it make sense how he can just go wherever he wants to. not sure how Bobby was dragged along tho.. and therefor idea no2: did Jack change the rules? ghosts can go freely? oooor Dean just found a way to do it and that's why they were "in trouble"? I guess the latter. but Baby being Dean's ghost bonding thingy would be a fun idea. also can we talk about how Dean being a ghost therefor not aging is perfect if he ever decides to stay with Cas for eternity?! absolutely genius. next issue I have is why is Dean a ghost? what could be his unfinished business? well... he finished hunting... so... Cas? but then he won't be a ghost anymore if he confesses?!?!?! he will be yoinked to Heaven like Cas was yoinked into supermegaturbohell. but this time Cas could follow him I guess.... and then they would "live" happily in heaven... maybe.. I guess? help I'm having the spn brainrots

[lindstromm]

WIP Tag game

tagged by the effervescent @lyricfulloflight

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Okay, here's what I've got going on:

FirstPrince, Alex/Henry. Henry's POV. Red, White, and Royal Blue.

Malex, Roswell New Mexico. Missing scene - when Alex asks Michael to move in with him just before Season 4 gets started.

Brimsley/Reynolds, Queen Charlotte: a Bridgerton Story. A series of slice-of-life episodes of the Queen's Man and the King's Man.

The Old Guard, Joe/Nicky. Joe has bipolar II disorder.

RNM-SPN crossover. Dean, Sam and Cas show up in Roswell New Mexico to deal with the ghosts of the aliens who died when Caulfield blew up.

Tagging: @runawaymarbles, @fullmetalcarer, @turtletotem, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[turntechjughead]

by the way. while i'm here (reblogged 1 post about spn prophets), what’s the most plausible explanation for why the archangel protecting chuck didn’t show up when the supernatural convention hotel was haunted?

chuck leveraged the god thing to be like “i got this” and it never showed up as a threat on heaven’s radar

chuck leveraged the unearned confidence of a white male writer to feel like he wasn’t in danger so it never showed up as a threat on heaven’s radar

that was after lucifer got out and the rules are different during the apocalypse/the archangels have different priorities during the apocalypse/raphael was simply too busy

the threshold for what counts as the prophet being in danger is higher than “the ghost of a child” even for chuck

raphael doesn’t like chuck and would have thought it was pretty funny if chuck got murdered. this prophet sucks, NEXT!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

wip word search!!

rules: go through your wips and look for the words given to you and post a snippet with that word.

i was tagged by the ever-lovely @sidekick-hero, my fellow metaldeputy enthusiast 💟🫶

my words were: breath, hair, smile, fingers, blue, love

putting it under the cut!

breath (from my sailor!steve x rockstar!eddie fic)

Chief Bond speaks up from his spot along the wall. “You assholes are fucked, you know.” and takes a drink from his be-faced cup. The other four boys deflate a bit more. “Yeah, we kn—.”  the shortest of the four starts before getting cut off by the door slamming shut. Harrington's hands go to his hips once the door is closed, his head hanging with the long breath he takes. “Ste–” He whirls around, fury boiling beneath his calm expression. “Whatever extra duty I get for this, you assholes are taking from me after.” he states, glaring at the four younger sailors. That look on his face should not be affecting Eddie the way it is.

hair (from pt. 2 to my summer fanworks challenge fic)

Robin appears in his doorway, arms crossed across her chest. He watches her examine him for a moment, then looks away. She heaves a sigh, “C’mon Doofus, let's get you cleaned up, huh?” Eddie lets her sit him up on his bed, hunching forward with his legs crossed and arms holding his own chest together. Why does this hurt so bad? It wasn’t even real. The mattress sinks with her weight when she sits behind him, poking one of her boney knees into the small of his back. She reaches forward and sweeps his hair back from his face, raking her nails through one side, then the other, slowly detangling it with her fingers at first, before he points out where his hairbrush had been abandoned this morning.  This morning? Was it really only this morning? Fuck..

smile (from my ghost!eddie fic)

“Hi!” the girl says, bouncing to a stop in front of him. “Uh, hi? Who are you?” “I’m Chrissy!” she grins, her smile bright yet slightly crooked. “Hi Chrissy, I’m Steve, uhm…what the hell is going on? Who are you? Why are you in my dream?” “I assume it’s because I died at Forest Hills.” She shrugs, as if it was the most benign news in the world. Steve blinks at her in the darkness, takes in her uniform– “Oh my god, you’re the cheerleader who died! Are you–are you my ghost?”

fingers (from a little thing i'm doing based on a tiktok i saw lmao)

The double doors whir open before him and he grabs up one of the mismatched baskets, nodding politely to the woman manning the one open register as he passes. He wanders the aisles, drumming his fingers on the metal handle of his basket to the somewhat familiar new Fleetwood Mac song that’s echoing down on him from the speakers embedded in the stained ceiling tiles, when he rounds the corner to the most unbelievable sight. He literally cannot believe what he’s seeing. At first Steve thought there was no way. That the frizzy head of unkempt waves before him had to belong to someone other than the one person he wanted it to. But no. The person’s own basket is dropped unceremoniously onto the floor to whisk their dark hair up into a bun.. and there’s no doubt. The scarred cheek, the dark brows, the same strong nose...It’s Eddie. The newest, most bat-chewed member of their party, who sped out of town with his uncle as soon as he could (which is more than fair, honestly; he wasn’t going to get anywhere in Hawkins), is dancing. In the middle of the bread aisle. To Fleetwood Mac.

blue (from destiel!steddie / spn!au pt 7!)

He grabs a yellow colored pencil first, scribbling wildly over the page, then drops it in favor of a blue one, scratching that over the whole page as well. Dustin is watching too, “Where’ve you been that’s blue and yellow?” Eddie thinks for a moment, “Nowhere that I can remember.” Will drops the blue then, picking the yellow back up to add a blob of the color directly in the middle of the page. “Ah.” Dustin says suddenly, “I get it.” No one speaks for a moment, waiting. “Care to share?” Hopper finally asks. “He doesn’t have any more green. He’s just using blue and yellow to make it.”

love (from pt. 2 of my witch!au)

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.” “Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?” “Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.” “So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.” “...I’m sorry, honey.”

i'm going to tag...@thisapplepielife, @its-steddie-time, @thefatedthoughtofyou, @anthotneystark and @wolfstarendgame!

your words are: ignore, second, road, soil, term, circumstance

[friendshipgun]

shuffling back from the depths bc @kaitheenbydoesthings tagged me (thank you Kai!!) in this meme which sounds really fun so here goes: Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

not gonna actually post all of them bc 1) it's a lot 2) most are just part of inktober challenges so the title for like ten wips is 'inktober 19' or whatever 3) most of my wips are detailed outlines with no actual scenes written, save for (at most) dialogue. there's still plenty here tho lol. anyway:

where i go the ancient curse follows the same ghosts every day fucked up rich people Karl/Sturm au where time compression fucked shit up jethan fic doughboy spn -nanowrimo beatification, canonization, benediction spirit hat reverse au wintersberg blades fic the succ ch1 untitled kannazuki hanzo fic genya fic houndwoof at the moon

if i tagged as many people as i have wips it'd be too many so i'm tagging everyone who sees this. if you see this and you want to do it consider yourself tagged.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 06x15 The French Mistake

“Are we just staring at a side of beef or what?” “I like the writing so far. It’s shaping up well” “Cassie. Raphie” “What the fuck” “Slap him on the ass” “What the fuck” “6 seasons. You’re allowed to make fun of yourself” “laughing then said holy shit’ “Oh my god” “What’s with all the pictures?” “I’m a painted whore” “I’ve only ever seen chicks put pictures of themselves around their vanities” “laughed” “laughed” “Does Misha show up all of a sudden?” “Is that actually Castiel?” “Or is he just acting? I can’t tell.” “Holy shit” “Wanna run lines? Maybe do a line” “Jesus fkn Christ” “Is that a real thing? MIshamigos?” “What kind of nerd comes up with that?” 

Laughing the whole time

“It has sparkles on the outside” “That’s kinda weird right?” “holy shit” “I aint no quitter” “soul phone” “That’s pretty good. I hadn’t heard that one before” “That’s fkn lame” “Kids toy. Not even a prop” “That’s really hard on your glass actually, but I suppose he doesn’t care since it’s the fake one” “do some stuff” “that’s gross” “Gross. You’re gross” “Is this a set or actually his house?” “alpaca noises” laughed

“Maybe you should sell me some supplements” “Hey look it’s not an apple” “Is that from Walker?” “When does Scrooge show up with Christmas ghosts?” “Would she keep up on the show that closely?” I’d watch your show

“Oh cool” “Misha’s gotta be making faces at Jensen right now” “Rule #1 of acting I guess” “Have you ever watched Formula 1?” laughing at Misha

“It’s drugs” “What’s so evil about this hotel room? Oh it’s a set.” “Well..they’ve got angels I guess” “All of a sudden she’s like. I don’t even know what to say” “She got horny for that” “Has anyone ever showed up to a convention wearing this outfit?” “I’m not enough of a Twink to pull that off” Yeah he’s not in his dilf era yet laughed

Laughed

“And that fan made another show about it” pointing to Jensen

“I need Kyle to pick up some drag droppings” “That’s unfortunate” “That would suck” “oh yeah Canada. I forgot” “That was like $5” “Might not want to give a guy a gun who says something like that” “I’m the weapons keeper of heaven. I want to buy a gun” “To be fair, it’s not America so it’s harder to buy a gun” “Is it harder to buy a gun in Canada? Did they break character with that?” “They really had fun with this” “Somebody didn’t appreciate Kripke leaving the show” “I thought he was going to piss on Kripke” “Oh it freeze-framed” 🎶dude looks like a lady🎶

“I almost couldn’t take Misha seriously there” “That was pretty badass though. Let’s rewatch it” laughed “Way to hide it” “He was in on the plan about another world where Misha was going to use his image? And he was cool with that?” “Slapping wood” “they should have freeze framed again”

[siffrins-therapist]

Day 3: supernatural - haunting

Put supernatural in the prompt, and I will insert spn somehow.

Matthew defines his life with 2 rules: Follow Dad's orders and protect Alfred. Alfred left for college, and then Dad went missing. When Matthew dragged Alfred back into his old life of hunting monsters, though, Matthew starts to feel his 2 rules eroding and his sense of self with it. Then, a ghost hunt that should have been a routine banishment turns everything onto its head.

But... maybe... it's not so bad.