Deancashorrorfest - Tumblr Posts
ghost, zero, suitcase, and the moon
Author: @shineforthee | Artist: @witchy-worm
Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Grief & Loss, Ambiguous Ending, Derealization, Apocalypse, Suicidal Ideation Summary: Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.
He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time.
Excerpt:
There are only five things:
The sky, vibrant violet, swirling clouds like eyes staring, blinking down at him.
Clarity, sharp and unbidden. He wakes as if he’s slept a thousand years, as if he’s never slept before this one singular moment.
With that clarity, pain. Sharp. Unbidden.
Screaming. God there’s screaming and it’s coming from inside him. It’s trying to get out so badly. Ripping from his throat. He didn’t know fish could scream. Didn’t know worms could scream. Didn’t know bones could scream.
The hard rock knuckles are gone from behind and beneath him and whatever has replaced them is palm-soft. He cannot remember the last time something was soft.
Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October
It's Got a Death Curse
Artist: @xfancyfranart
Author: @artemis-73 / Artemis73 on AO3
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 18.9k
Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Summer Camp, Slasher, Blood and Gore, Minor Character Death, Dean POV
Summary: Dean and his friends have been coming to Camp Garrison for years, first as campers, then as counselors. Their last summer together kicks off with a bang when a figure from their dark past reappears and buried secrets from a near-forgotten tragedy threaten to resurface. It only gets worse when a storm rolls in, and the night becomes a gory fight for survival. The camp may not have electricity, but it's got a death curse.
Preview:
The pounding of rain on the lean-to's roof nearly drowns out the roar of blood in Dean's ears. The chord that should be connecting the generator to the rec hall dangles limply in two useless pieces, sliced cleanly in half. Not chewed through. Not frayed. Cut.
It's a scenario straight out of a horror movie.
The darkness is suddenly suffocating. It clings to his clothes and worms into his skin. He imagines he's the hapless soon-to-be victim, lit only by flashes of lightning in the sky, as the killer slinks closer in shaky 1st person POV footage. The audience yells at the character to look behind them, and he swings around wildly. The light of the flashlight is eaten by the uninterrupted night. Lightning strikes, and he gets a flash of his surroundings.
He's alone.
Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October!
Romancing the Exit Sign
Art: @nickelkeep
Writing: @an-android-in-a-tutu
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Other Tags: Alternate Universe, Eldritch Horror, Cults, Gore, Suicidal Ideation, Mystery
Summary: A teenage boy is left to die in a shallow grave and something slithers into his bones. Devotees of an ancient god work to bring Her into the world, as with equivalent fanaticism, a man on a mission picks them off one by one. A lonesome drifter crosses paths with a mysterious stranger and finds himself inexorably drawn into the middle of it all.
Dean Winchester is adrift. All he has is his car, the next hunt, and a conversation he doesn't want to have waiting for him in California. Then a case involving mangled bodies washing up on shore in an idyllic lakeside community puts him on the trail of a man calling himself Castiel, and the dangerous web he's entangled in. Dean is used to living in a world of monsters, but the End of Days is a little out of his wheelhouse. Especially when his only ally is determined to keep his secrets behind his teeth, even as they draw closer together. Still, he intends to see things through, no matter how dark the path ahead gets.
It's either that, or call his brother.
Excerpt:
The smell of rot was stronger here, flies buzzing away over what looked to be the remains of animals, shunted into the corners, bones and bits of fur and unidentifiable red mush. The walls were covered with scrawls, symbols and pictures painted in something dark and shiny, and pools of wax melted around stubs of burnt out candles littered the room. The centerpiece, though, was the massive pool of blood that had soaked into the decaying floorboards, half obscuring the scrawl of a magic circle underneath, five points of a star, each adorned with a tool of the trade: an offering bowl filled with lumpy ash, an incense holder, a dull copper coloured knife, a bundle of herbs and feathers, and a black crystal.
“Guess it was a gateway drug after all,” he muttered, stepping forward and tracing the script that filled the circle with his eyes. He couldn’t identify it, but he didn’t have to be a scholar to figure whatever it was was major bad juju.
Cas stood with his back to all of it, staring at the symbols on the wall across from the door.
“Looks like we found the right place,” Dean said wryly. “Good call, Cas.”
Cas didn’t answer, stayed facing the wall. Something about the line of his back set Dean ill at ease.
“Hey-” He took another step forward.
Something whispered in his ear.
Dean whirled, staring into the empty space behind him, his hand coming up to his neck where he could have sworn he’d felt someone’s breath.
“What the hell-” He took two steps back, away from the open door, jumping when his foot collided with the offering bowl, knocking it over with a clatter that rang loud in the silence.
No, not silence. There was whispering, still. Constant, so quiet as to be indistinct, but if Dean strained his ears he could just hear it.
“Cas?” He called out, shaky. “Do you hear…”
His voice died in his throat as he turned and caught sight of the man again, silhouetted against that strange mural, a jarring gap in the twisting symbols that seemed to draw them in, they curled towards him, writhing on the wall as the room darkened, the shadows pulling in and the whispers getting louder until he could make out the shape of words-
Come home.
Dean’s pulse pounded in his ears, a drumbeat to accompany the chant. Come home, come home, come home to me. In front of the wall of writhing shadows, Cas started to turn, and something in Dean quailed, knowing he wasn’t prepared, wasn’t ready, but stuck in place all the same by his wanting.
Come home to the Mother.
Coming in October as part of the @deancashorrorfest!
ROSEWOOD
Art: @witchy-worm
Writing: @withclawsandsympathy
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Other Tags: Angst, Animal Death, Case Fic, Claustrophobia, Mentions of Torture, Mild Body Horror, We Talk About Purgatory
Word Count: 5.5k
Summary: Months after Mrs. Butters leaves the bunker, intent on finding a home of her own, a peaceful section of pines set deep into the American heartland becomes anything but. Haunted by Purgatory at every turn, and forced to confront the consequences of decades of torture and abandonment at the hands of his predecessors, Dean and Cas set off to solve a string of disappearances in the forest where they stumble across a familiar face -- and an all-too-familiar feeling.
Excerpt:
Dean believes a lot of things. He believes the manner of his death was decided by his father the very night that yellow-eyed demon ripped his mom away from him. He believes he’ll die, broken and bloody and alone on a hunt, and anything Cas does only delays the inevitable. He believes he doesn’t deserve to be saved. Dean knows Cas will do it anyway. He realizes a moment too late that he and Cas have been staring at each other silently for several beats. Dean clears his throat, pushing off from the tree he was leaning against. His jacket, half-stuck to the bark and sap of the pine, makes a ripping sound as it peels away from the truck. The tree emits an eerie groan with the sudden absence of Dean’s weight against it. Scowling, Dean scrubs a palm against the canvas sleeve to wipe away the sap. His hand comes back dark red. The smell hasn’t quite hit his nose before Cas speaks the word forming in Dean’s thoughts. “Blood.” The tree groans again, the sound cutting through the silence as several more pines join the rising chorus around them. The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck rose in return. The sound Dean has once mistook as trees creaking and swaying in the wind now formed the painful wails of something wounded. Then the trees began to scream.
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest!!
While the warm wind blows through the Eastern Halls, the Angel tends to the Dead.
Dean / Cas Horrorfest presents:
The Forgotten Halls
Art by @thestarsmakemedream-art Story by allthismusic
Rated: T Word count: 9k
Tags/Warnings: Inspired by Piranesi by Susannah Clarke, post-canon, the Empty, amnesia, non-euclidean space
Summary: A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe.
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest
Preview:
“You could be like them,” the Entity says when it comes upon the Angel gently moving the remains of a boy in red clothing so that he does not get washed away by the next tide. The Angel looks up from his task to greet his visitor. “Still, you do not rest,” the Entity says. Its face is familiar to the Angel in a way that reminds him of his own, but there’s something about it, something behind it that seems to shift and change and somehow makes the Angel feel as though he is looking through the Entity rather than at it. “They need me,” the Angel explains. “And you have asked me to observe the Halls.” “Your selflessness knows no bounds,” the Entity says dryly. The Angel does not understand why this does not sound like a compliment. “But yes. If you cannot find it in yourself to diminish, then it is very useful for you to expand our knowledge of these… Halls.” The Angel follows the Entity’s gaze around the Halls, with its dark recesses and its gothic arches. There are three statues in the chamber where the Red-Clothing Boy rests: a sweet-looking cherub, a lion’s-head bust, and an intricately carved bird that the Angel thinks might be a phoenix. It is one of the most interesting chambers of the Halls, but the Entity’s eyes seem to slide past its elaborate statues and its intriguing nooks and crannies. “Have you seen anyone else here?” the Entity asks. Its tone is carefully calm, but there is a metallic scrape to its words that betrays a sense of intensity. “Yes, of course,” the Angel says, and the Entity looks taken aback. But when he starts reminding his visitor of the other Dead, like the Red-Clothing Boy, who dwell stilly and silently within the Halls, it quickly becomes clear that the Angel’s charges are not who the Entity is asking about. “There are Others who seek to find this place,” the Entity explains gravely. “There may be as many as three, but I think only one will come. The Hunter.” “What is he hunting?” the Angel asks. “You,” the Entity says, and though a hint of threat is present in its answer, the Angel feels unexpectedly hopeful. “Me,” the Entity continues. “These Halls… if the Hunter finds his way here, the very architecture of this place is in danger, along with all its inhabitants. If you see him, you must tell me immediately, and you must not speak to him.”
Artist: @hawkland
Author: @redleavesinthewind
Rating: Teen&up
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Other Tags: Case Fic, Blood and Gore, Plant Horror, Post-Canon, Established Relationship
Word Count: 8k
Summary: Dean is settled. His relationship with Cas is going strong, he has a place to call home, and his biggest problems are run-of-the-mill cases and unruly teenagers who think they know everything there is to hunting. Hell, he even plays with the thought of retiring. But then something starts killing people left and right in Lebanon, and Dean and Cas are faced with a case and a foe they have no idea what to do about.
Excerpt: Dean feels a little stupid, being so freaked out by a few simple plants, but as they’re retreating back to the house, he can’t shake the feeling that something is staring at him, observant and patient. He turns around to throw one last look at the hogweed. Dean swears he sees the plants growing and writhing, the stems undulating and reaching towards the skies, the leaves bunching up into fist shaped balls at the plants’ sides, the flowers shivering in what Dean can only assume is anger and blood-thirst.
When he’s turned around completely, the hogweed in full view, he’s looking at the same mundane bushel of flowers that they investigated only seconds before. Nothing’s changed. He’s not even sure they grew any taller, but it’s hard to tell from where he’s standing.
“Fucking hell,” Dean mutters under his breath as he follows Sam and Cas back to the Impala.
COMING THIS OCTOBER TO @deancashorrorfest
The unforgiving waves pushed him further under, arms and legs flailing wildly. In his panic, he made the mistake of trying to breathe. To scream. All it got him was a mouthful of water and a burning in his lungs.
DeanCas Horrorfest presents:
A Word in the Mists
Author: Hiding Amaranth Artist: lamiasage Rating: M Word Count: ~23,000 Tags&Warnings: pre-relationship Dean/Castiel, Dean & Jo, Canon-Adjacent AU, Case Fic, Monster Hunt, Mystery, Ship at Sea Setting, Isolated from the Outside World, Sarcasm, Angst, Canon-Level Depictions of Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths (not TFW), Brief Hints of Suicidal Thoughts, Fear of Drowning, I can't use more tags because I don't want to spoil the surprise
Summary: Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.
Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around—if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.
Saving lives is what he does… though he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with.
Preview: Nothingness devoured the horizon. Dean glanced back over his shoulder, but the wafts of mist were too thick to see anything beyond the ship's railing. A chill crept over his skin at the realization that he couldn't even make out the other end of the ship itself. The chain of friendly, orange lights hung across the deck didn't stand a chance, its brightness swallowed up effortlessly by the blanket of fog. It was a mirror to the way this blasted mission seemed to soak all happiness out of him.
Maybe coming up here had been a mistake. He'd hoped the fresh air would help him clear his head—that it could ease some of the tension that had stubbornly settled in his shoulders ever since he'd set foot on the Fate's Whisper. Instead, all he'd achieved by stepping out on the deck was that the tight knot of worry somewhere deep in his chest solidified.
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest!
The Apocalypse is nigh, and the Prophecy is false.
Dean/Cas Horrorfest Presents...
The Possession of Jimmy Novak
Author: bexgowen / @motherofdragonflies
Artist: @eggchef
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 16k
Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Modern AU, Minor Character Deaths, Possession, Smut
Summary:
Dean Winchester was surprised to learn that when his father died, he left behind a beautiful house in the suburbs of Illinois, complete with neighbors who welcomed the newly arrived Dean with casseroles and invitations to join them at church.
It all seemed so very normal.
But there was something about Jimmy Novak that Dean couldn’t put his finger on, something not normal, and when Dean became an unwitting accomplice to Jimmy’s crime he discovered the horrifying truth -
That wasn't Jimmy Novak.
Excerpt:
“Here,” Jimmy said, and Dean carefully lowered Roger to the ground, silently apologizing to the man as his head flopped into the dirt but glad to be free of his deadweight. He flinched as Jimmy tossed the shovel at him, reflexively catching it before it hit him in the face.
“Dig.”
“Oh, hell no,” Dean said, exhaustion and frustration and fear short circuiting the connection between his brain and his mouth. “You wanna bury him, you dig your own fucking hole.”
Jimmy stalked forward until he was nose to nose with Dean, fury making his eyes burn electric blue. Dean forced himself to hold his ground and drew himself to his full height - he had a few inches on Jimmy, and he was going to use every one of them to his advantage - lifting his chin and looking down his nose at Jimmy, daring him to make a move.
Jimmy's jaw clenched as he searched Dean's face for any sign of weakness, and then his eyes closed, his head dropping and shoulders slumping like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Dean took a step back and gripped the shovel tightly, bracing himself in case it was a trick.
Slowly, Jimmy lifted his head and opened his eyes, blinking like he had woken from a deep sleep. He focused on Dean and frowned.
“Dean?” he asked, confused. “What are you—?” He looked around, the furrow on his brow deepening as he took in his surroundings. “Where—where am I? How did I—?”
“Jimmy?” Dean asked warily.
Jimmy took a step back, and tripped over Roger, landing on his ass with a thump. He saw what he’d fallen over and scrambled backwards, kicking up dirt and leaves in his haste to get away from the body as fast as possible.
“No,” he moaned, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, oh, Roger, no—” He gripped his head between his hands and started rocking back and forth, whispering frantically to himself.
Dean approached Jimmy, kneeling down next to the man, setting the shovel down behind him close that it was still within arm’s reach if he needed it but out of Jimmy’s reach.
“Jimmy. Hey. Jimmy.”
“I didn’t want him to—I didn’t mean for him to—I had thoughts, sinful thoughts, but he—Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name—”
“Who, Jimmy? Who are you talking about?”
Jimmy froze, his prayer dying on his lips. Dean waited. Slowly, Jimmy lowered his hands and looked at Dean.
“Castiel,” he whispered.
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest
MAW
A delicious @deancashorrorfest collaboration.
Written by: @thisisapaige
Art by: @hawkland | sidewinder
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 8.5k
Tags/Warnings: Godstiel, Alternate Season 7, Unreliable Narrator, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Character Death, Consumehimnatural
Summary:
The world is full of sorrow, of sadness, of pain. The people within it deserve better than what Castiel's father gave them. They deserve peace and contentment, security and love. They deserve a New World.
And there is no safer place than inside Castiel.
Teaser:
There is so much power within Castiel. The souls slither and slide inside him, straining against the confines of his vessel. The skin stretches. They need more. They hunger.
Castiel hungers.
His blade is in his hand faster than a thought. His vessel’s muscles tighten and release, snap forward in the space of time between the electrical impulse of a human’s brain and the blink of their eye.
Raphael gasps, gurgles, gapes as he stares down at the blood dripping from his vessel’s throat. It stains the blouse she wears.
Castiel licks his lips, watching as the blue-white light of his brother’s grace rises to the surface of the cut, trying to repair the damage. The souls shudder within Castiel. He salivates. Archangel grace. Power. His to feast upon.
Before the grace can heal the flesh, Castiel surges forward. Presses his lips to the wound. He tries to go slow at first, to taste it, to savour it, but the power flowing through him is divine. It’s intoxicating. It’s ambrosial. It’s finding his hollow spaces and empty core, filling him. Almost.
Almost. Almost. Almost.
It’s almost enough. It’s not quite what he wants, but what he really wants he cannot have.
Not yet.
The souls within him writhe with pleasure. The monsters and beasts grab and pull at Castiel’s shape and, this time, he doesn’t strain. He expands.
He’s won. He’s done it. Raphael’s powerful archangel grace is the final piece.
Castiel is God.
Hungry for more? Keep an eye on @deancashorrorfest as you drool in anticipation for MAW (and many more tasty fics), coming this October!
Terror as Sharp as Pain
Artist: @alicetallula
Author: @artemis-73 / Artemis73 on AO3
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 10.8k
Tags/Warnings: IT Crossover, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Fix-it adjacent, Post-IT: Chapter Two (2019), Case Fic, Body Horror
Summary: After Jack brings Cas back from the Empty, everything almost returns to normal. Cas moves into The Bunker, they go back to hunting, and they do not talk about his confession. With the number of hunts dwindling, Team Free Will takes up a case in Derry, Maine, a town terrorized every 27 years by disappearances and violent deaths. Even though the cycle isn't due to repeat for another 19 years, they will have to face fear itself to free the town.
Preview:
Near the train yard across town, the Well House stands on Neibolt St. There are no street lamps or warm porch lights marking the way. The Impala's engine cuts through the quiet night, making the silence even deeper when Dean turns the car off.
"We're definitely closer," Cas says from the backseat, worry creasing his brow. It's a look Dean hasn't seen in a long time. He hates it. "My powers aren't... They don't like this place."
From the other side of the backseat, Mike shifts anxiously. "What powers?"
"Cas has some special abilities," Sam starts to explain, spinning out a vague explanation that doesn't come within 100 yards of the truth.
Hey, Cas, Dean tries praying. You gotta get better about mentioning your powers in front of civvies.
Cas just rolls his eyes.
One more thing, he continues, don't get dead.
"It's not my death I'm worried about," Cas snips.
Mike casts a horrified look between them, and Sam heaves a put-upon sigh.
"Dude, not helping," he groans.
"All you gotta know," Dean says, "is if everything else fails, Cas is our get out of jail free card. He's saved me more times than I can count."
They gather their sparse supplies and trek up the overgrown path to the derelict porch with Mike and Sam leading the way. Dean's seen a lot of haunted and abandoned houses in his day; they've hunted and squatted in their fair share. None of them have ever felt like this. If he was more superstitious or maybe less jaded, he'd say the house was evil. Evil leaks from its rotting roof and trails tendrils of decay down the walls. It pools on the floorboards and seeps into his boots. His skin tingles with gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up.
When he looks over, Cas is already watching him. They don't look away when Mike pushes the front door open or when Sam follows him inside.
"I don't want you going in there," Cas says.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."
Time is ticking. He can't leave Sam alone, but he doesn't want to go in just yet. He reaches over and, since there's no tie to straighten, fusses with the collar of the trench coat. Cas is wearing a blue tee shirt that nearly matches his eyes. It's one of Dean's favorites, though he's never said it.
He pulls his hand away, but quicker than he can blink, Cas seizes his wrist. His fingers are surprisingly soft; angel healing powers mean there's not a hint of a callus. His thumb slides along the thin skin of Dean's wrist, and even in the dark, Dean knows he's tracing one of his veins. Cas rebuilt him, after all, and knows him down to his very marrow.
"Please, be careful," Cas says to their hands. "Promise me."
The damndest thing is that Dean says, "I promise" before he can even think.
"Guys?" Sam calls from inside.
Right. They have a job to do.
Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October!
@deancashorrorfest presents:
Any Way That You Want Me
Written by: @doctorprofessorsong
Art by: Aggiedoll
Rating: Mature
Word count: 10,455
Relationships: Dean/Castiel
Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Happy Ending, Psychological Horror, Memory loss and Amnesia, Character Injury, Case fic, Mystery, Canon Divergent, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
It should have been a cake walk. Get in, investigate the haunted house, and figure out where to dig, salt and burn. But when Cas somehow gets cursed - trapped inside the house's mirrors - Dean finds himself in a race against time. Each day Cas' strength is fading. It's up to Dean to find a solution by digging through the house and the belongings of the former owner.
What he uncovers in the house may change everything.
Link to Fic | Link to Art