#Horrorfest
Text
📹 (x)
Jamie Campbell Bower answers the tough questions:
KISS, MARRY, KILL:
Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson and Jim Hopper.
#jamie campbell bower#eddie munson#joseph quinn#steve harrington#joe keery#jim hopper#david harbour#stranger things cast#horrorfest#monterrey mexico
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Void Within
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 43,361
Tags: Dead Dove Do not Eat, Tentacles, Tentacle sex, Tentacle rape, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Bad Ending, Suicide, Self-Harm, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Eye Gouging, Slurs, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Derealization, Eldritch Abomination Possession (Cthulhu Mythos), Hallucinations, Unreliable Narrator, Memory Alteration, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dissociation, Gun Violence, Stabbing, Dead Dogs, False Memories, Religious Cults, Cults Blood and Gore, Disembowelment, Evisceration, Tulpas, Mental Health Issues, Hospitals, Coma, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Monsterfucking, Missing Persons, PTSD, Smoking, Drinking, The Empty Man AU, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Possessed Dean Winchester, Monster Castiel (Supernatural), Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Service Dogs, POV Multiple, POV Dean Winchester
Summary:
Dean's still getting used to the ache of loss and grief burning a hole into his chest. Still not used to the empty space where his brothers used to be.
His life is a day to day drudgery, the eternal crawl, and since Cas broke up with him, he's not quite sure what he's got left to stick around for.
When Jack and Claire go missing, well, he can't just sit back and watch.
Digging deeper, Dean finds himself caught in the middle of a complicated web he can't hope to begin to untangle. Missing Kids, Doomsday Cults, and the sudden return of Castiel in his life have Dean spiraling, even with his trusted Service Dog, Miracle, by his side.
But the one question remains, above all others-
Who were the Men of Letters, and what were they doing in Lawrence?
Dean doesn't think he's going to like the answer.
Welcome to @deancashorrorfest!
art by @sketcheun
fic by @preetkiran1016
link to art
link to fic
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Coming soon via @deancashorrorfest
Title: On the Cutting Room Floor
Author: callsigntango (tumblr: withclawsandsympathy)
Artist: @spiffyflypie
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Length: ~24k
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Minor Character Deaths, Memory Loss, Graphic descriptions of rotting and moldy food, Arachnophobia
Tags: Canon Divergence (with AU elements sprinkled in liberally), POV Dean, Spiders, seriously there are a lot of spiders in this i cannot stress that enough, Feelings of being trapped, Horror, Psychological Horror, Intense descriptions of how much it sucks to work in the tv news industry, hey wait did i mention the spiders
Posting Date: October 13, 2022
Summary: In an Arachne hunt gone wrong, Dean "wakes up" in an AU-style world as what he'd gone undercover as for the hunt: a journalist, with no memory of his actual life. He’s paired with the worst diva he’s ever had the pleasure of enduring, a ruthless, arrogant hotshot by the name of Bela Talbot. But when the pair shows up to cover what should be a routine story on a suspicious death in Kansas, the world around Dean starts to unravel in horrific, painful ways.
The appearance of a man claiming to be an Angel sends Dean into a tailspin -- but just as something about Cas begins to spark very real memories in Dean, Cas seems to be losing his own grip on what's real and what isn't. And as they struggle to free themselves from this distorted web of reality, something sinister is lurking just beyond their reach.
Excerpt:
The rest of the world seemed to have fallen still. There was no more rustling of papers in the deputy’s hands, no more breeze shifting through the grass, no more din of conversation from startled, scared rookies around him. Time hung heavy and frozen, and every one of Dean’s breaths felt wrong somehow. As if the very air in his lungs was stolen.
“Deeean,” the whisper came again, more insistent. More desperate. Dean glanced down at his feet.
Glanced down at the corpse lying in the grass. Had it just…
Dean crouched to get a closer look. Surely the whisper couldn’t have come from this thing. He didn’t need to check for a heartbeat to know this half-eviscerated, blood-drained body was dead.
“Dean.” The lipless, lifeless husk of a human fucking spoke, and Dean fell back on his ass in fear.
“What the—” Dean didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. The world flickered and melted around him, the once-frozen scene melting into a frenzy of fangs and limbs and motion. The grass beneath his hands squirmed and scuttled, erupting into a throbbing, thrashing mass of large, pale yellow spiders.
Dean scrambled to his feet in a panic. The palm-sized spiders shivered and shook and skittered across the body, with more legs poking out of the corpse’s wounds and empty eyes and mouth, hauling out more thick, pale spiders from within it. The mass of huntsmen squeezed through eye sockets, burrowed into wounds, and sank their fangs into decaying flesh. Several of the spiders began to sprint up Dean’s legs, and he swatted at them with terrified, wild swipes of his palms.
But just as suddenly as the spiders had appeared, they vanished, leaving a manic, near-hysterical Dean the sudden spectacle at a crime scene. No one else had moved, or seemed to have noticed the spiders. Mary was still looking at him with a cold suspicion.
No. Not at him. Through him. Behind him.
“Dean?” The voice was more real this time. Spoken aloud rather than a whisper in his thoughts. And it was just as uncertain of this situation as he was.
Dean whipped around. Though the spiders had disappeared into thin air, something else had appeared just as suddenly and inexplicably. No, not something.
Someone.
A man – a scruffy, disheveled man in a tattered trench coat – was hunched next to the body, staring at Dean in shock. The trench coat was stained with dark, inky blotches. Blood was smeared across his palms and dripped from his mouth, the bright red droplets streaking down his chin. Dark circles hung heavy under the man’s eyes, deep purple marks that stood out against piercing blue irises. He looked half-starved, deprived of sleep and sanity, staring right at Dean with the same intensity as a hungry wolf. “Dean, where are we?”
45 notes
·
View notes
Photo
“These Violent Delights”
Brought to you by the very sexy @deancashorrorfest
Author: SomethingBlue42 (@bowlegsandbiceps)
Artist: @xfancyfranart
Rating: E
Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Word count: 43K
Warnings: Non-Con (not between Dean/Cas), emotional manipulation, non-consensual marking, attempted rape, murder, cannibalism, mutilation, gore, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, alcoholism, the food is people, mariachi music
Tags: Silence of the Lambs AU, Alternate Universe, Hannibal AU, Psychiatrist Castiel, Orderly Dean Winchester, Veteran Dean Winchester, Alcoholic Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, oral sex, frottage
Summary: Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak - notorious serial killer and cannibal - given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don’t tell him anything personal.
But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.
Link to Fic
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
NEW ENGLAND! We hope to see you all this Sunday for a terrifying treat that is LITTLE POP UP SHOP OF HORRORS II
This killer spooky Halloween market & event is put on by the rad folks of @pvdhorror @originbeerproject and @buttonwoodscraftbrewing and taking place at the home of Buttonwoods Brewery at 530 Wellingtong Ave #22 Cranston, RI 02910 Come shop from a killer collection of artists, makers, writers, oddity vendors and much much more! · FREE entry
· Pets welcomed · Families welcomed 1pm to 6pm Sunday October 23rd We’ll also have our NEW collaboration tees with @pvdhorror REWIND OR DIE at the event! #pvdhorror #buttonwoodsbrewery #buttonswoods #originbeerproject #hungryghostpress #originbeer #hungryghost #horror #horrormovie #horrorfest #fest #market #beer #halloween #spooky #evil #brewery #providence #ri #rhodeisland #newengland #thingstodoinri #thingstodoinrhodeisland #cranston #movie #movies (at Buttonwoods Brewery) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj-vkBvODdg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#22#pvdhorror#buttonwoodsbrewery#buttonswoods#originbeerproject#hungryghostpress#originbeer#hungryghost#horror#horrormovie#horrorfest#fest#market#beer#halloween#spooky#evil#brewery#providence#ri#rhodeisland#newengland#thingstodoinri#thingstodoinrhodeisland#cranston#movie#movies
0 notes
Photo
Guys! Today I have the pleasure to announce that I am going to be performing at this event. I'll be playing some known music for this Halloween Season🎃🍁 and a little bit of my original music! See you there guys!🤟🎶🎸 . . . #horrorfest #horrorfest2022 #horror #halloween #rock #galeriasplaza #plazagalerias (en Galerías Hipódromo) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj7Gv30rgRO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
0 notes
Photo
Tomorrow we will be at @franklinsteinhorrorfest in Michigan City IN. We’ll have comics original art prints and so much more!!! #convention #horrorfest #horrorcon https://www.instagram.com/p/CjpwqVCseCn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
0 notes
Text
Horrorfest: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]
Title: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: "Can you at least tell me where we're going?" Chrollo, in the driver's seat, says nothing. And you barely resist the urge to rip the blindfold off your head.
For Horrorfest request... Chrollo taking darling to a house & won't say the rest because the reveal is necessary for the catharsis.
notes: yandere, reader is kidnapped, emotional damage idk
“Can you please tell me where you’re taking me?” The edge in your voice makes it crack like glass, a tone just as fragile as your poor nerves. Your fingers curl tighter against your thighs. Just what the hell is going on?
Chrollo is beside you in the driver’s seat, as always. He’d never trust you with a car, even in the ordinary circumstance you find yourself in them--traveling from place to place, whisked to hotels and hideouts and sometimes less-than-hospitable abandoned places.
You can hear the gentle acceleration of the engine, the hum of the road underneath you, the rush of wind when he opens the window a crack. The weight of his presence is there, that almost imperceptible sensation of strength from his pure existence.
But.
You can’t see a damn thing through the blindfold he tied around your forehead after getting you into the car earlier this evening.
“You’ll see soon enough, dearest,” he answers finally. You swear you can sense the way his head glances down at your clenched hands. “Do try to calm down. I promise it’s nothing bad.”
You bite your cheek.
“Your definition of bad is often different from mine, so you can see why that doesn’t exactly reassure me.”
The swerve of the car when it turns, more frequently now, like you’ve gone off the main road and are now somewhere more complicated. Where is he taking you, and why? There’s a thud in your heart when you consider the possibilities.
If this was simply a matter of moving to a new hideout, he would have told you; you would have packed your things, few though they are, and been given at least a vague schedule. Driving times. Flight take-offs. Whatever.
But tonight, he’d asked you to follow him after dinner, led you out to the car, and gently urged you inside. He ignored your questions. Then he said it would be a surprise and tied a blindfold around your eyes.
There’s only the vaguest sense of time passing--how long have you been driving anyway? Wherever he was taking you, would you stay there long? Would you be back at the hotel by nightfall? You’d hoped to catch a horror movie marathon the hotel was hosting on its own channel. It was the only Halloween activity Chrollo had agreed to, since he didn’t like the idea of taking you out to a party and it wasn’t like a hotel was going to get trick-or-treaters. Maybe you could have asked him to get some decorations, but somehow the thought of taping up paper bats on the walls of the luxury hotel room didn’t feel in the spirit of the season.
The car comes to a stop and you lurch slightly in your seat.
Chrollo turns off the engines. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt.
“Just a moment,” he says, and you swear your hear warm mirth in his voice. Asshole. He enjoys playing with you, doesn’t he? And that’s what this must be, some sort of sick game.
The door opens and there’s a whoosh of pleasantly cool air that smells like leaves and bonfires. He grabs your arm and helps you out of the car. You shiver, not from the chill. You’re outside, that much is clear. But where? And why? And for what?
”Chrollo,” you say, pleading. Your fingers dig into your upper arms. How much trouble would you be in if you just ripped the damn thing off your head on your own?
He chuckles, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel it. Finally his fingers fiddle with the knot of the blindfold and you feel it drop away before your eyes register that you can see again.
It’s--
It’s--
A neighborhood. An ordinary neighborhood. The evening has not quite settled in, and the sky reflects brilliant orange and red against rows of homes, all flickering yellows and purples and greens from Halloween decorations tacked and staked and pinned outside. The glow of lit jack o’lanterns practically shimmers against the dutifully swept sidewalks.
It makes your heart hurt to see this sort of life.
“Why… did you bring me here?” A thousand thoughts rattle off, most of them not staying long to catch. The idea that he’s taunting you or teasing you comes to mind. Or maybe he’s got some target inside that he’s going to kill and make you watch as revenge for telling him that if he loved the expensive lingerie that found its way into your suitcase so much, he could wear it himself.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply takes your arm and you can do nothing but follow. Helpless thing that you are. Sure, there are people outside. Children itching to trick or treat, parents forcing them to pose for photos. And they’d be dead in a second (if they were lucky) if you said something to them.
The house is nice. A typical suburban house, you suppose. There are orange-and-black garlands strewn about, a giant witch stood up in the corner with a cauldron that has fake lights and an artificial bubbling sound.
There’s even a jack o’ lantern in front of the doorway, glowing softly from a tealight placed inside. It’s a pretty thing. Maybe you should have asked Chrollo if you could carve a pumpkin in the hotel, after all.
When he gets to the front door, he stops and shoves his hands into his jingling pockets. He… has a key to the house, which should perhaps surprise you. But your heart is pounding and your nerves are frayed, and all you can do is think in alternating thoughts: why are we here, and why can’t I live like this?
The door creaks open. You half-expect something to jump out. A corpse. A member of the Phantom Troupe. Both?
But instead there’s just… a house. Just an ordinary house. With some of the lights on in the kitchen and a fake fireplace and fairy lights with orange pumpkins strung up in the entryway. Next to the coat rack is a table with an immensely large bowl filled with an assortment of candy. Chocolates and sour sweets and licorice.
A few feet in front of the entryway is a rack of--clothes? No, they’re colorful and strange looking. Costumes, you realize. Halloween costumes. But why…
Your heart thuds, once, twice, three times.
“I don’t understand.” Your mouth is dry. Something in your chest tightens as Chrollo gently pushes you forward until you’re in front of the costume rack.
His voice comes from next to you, but you don’t dare face him. You don’t know what expression he will wear and worse than that, you don’t know what expression is on your face right now. But you know that it’s something too vulnerable to share with him so openly.
“You said you’d never been able to hand out candy to trick or treaters, didn’t you?”
It takes a few moments to hit you, and when it does, your hands wring together.
“So you… this is…” Not some awful, nasty trick, but something kind and done for you? You don’t say it. You don’t need to say it. The disgusted, awful relief of it--the gently rising pleasant surprise--must be showing on your face.
He holds up a princess costume while your mind tries to process what’s happening, and you shake your head at it. Too sweet and colorful for your vision of Halloween.
“Don’t think too much about it, dear,” he says, thumbing through the hangers of costumes. “Just find something and get dressed. I’m sure there will be plenty of kids coming to the door soon enough.”
Kids. In costumes. Trick or treating.
At your--no, not your house, but maybe your house? In some way. Just for now. For the moment. For one one night--Halloween night.
That has to be good enough.
--
The witch costume is just the right size, but that’s no surprise. Chrollo has a shockingly detailed knowledge about your body; he’s even, with trial and error, mastered the art of nabbing nearly perfectly sized underwear across different brands. Bastard.
But you don’t think about that now. All you think about is how… spooky you look. How fun. How pretty, in that dark and morbid and delightfully Halloweeny way.
You forgot how this felt, actually: wearing a real costume. Not the mask you put on every day to survive co-existence with Chrollo Lucilfer, but a real Halloween costume. Something shiny and cheap, not meant to be worn more than a few times before you find a broken seam, sigh, and chuck it out.
In the end, you look like anyone else might, living in this house, dressed up on Halloween. A witch costume, complete with a hat and fake wart that you are sure is going to fall off your face within about 15 minutes thanks to some questionable quality sticker glue.
When you step out to show Chrollo, you find not Chrollo, but a vampire in his place. Okay, okay. It’s Chrollo, wearing his normal outfit with a thin black cape lined in red over everything. He slicked back his hair--admittedly you prefer it loose, not that you’d ever tell him so--and it looks like he applied a thin layer of white powder to dilute his pallor even more.
A vampire. Dracula. A bloodsucker. How appropriate for him. Not that you’d ever ruin this night by vocalizing that thought, so you bury it like a fake skeleton underneath the house of your mind.
“You look marvelous,” he says, when you come out into full view. And you laugh immediately. Because he’s stuck fake fangs in his mouth. The cheap kind that looks like dentures. They make him sound absolutely ridiculous.
He doesn’t take offense, or at least he hides it well. He pops the fangs out, a line of drool trailing after them and holds them in his hand. They glow a little green in the dimness of the house.
“Too much?” You only smile in response, and he drops them in the trash. “They were uncomfortable, so it’s no loss. I’ll pretend that I keep my fangs hidden until I’m ready to bite.” The last words were spoken almost too lasciviously, and hIs gaze seems to lighten then. Because of course he’d feel better about looking like a fool as long as he could turn it around on you.
You don’t have time to let this bother you, though, because--
The doorbell rings. A quaint thing. Ding-dong.
Is it possible for your heart to stop while you’re still alive? Suddenly your legs feel heavy. Suddenly your whole body feels heavy. Suddenly you can’t possibly answer the door.
Ding-dong.
“Go on, love.”
Chrollo’s hand is on your shoulder and for once it feels reassuring rather than terrifying. You let him guide you to the door, which you open with trembling hands.
You’re greeted by a group of small children dressed up, holding out pillowcases and candy buckets.
“TRICK OR TREAT!!”
You can’t speak. You forgot how to interact with normal people, normal things. No, no, it’s not just that. You want to cry. You’re going to cry. Because this is the first time you’ve ever opened a door to find smiling children waiting for candy on this most special of fall nights, a night when people can be anything, when the air itself feels magical.
You feel like you’re moments away from whirling around and running deep into the safety of the house when Chrollo touches your shoulder again. And his touch grounds you. Shakes you up. Snaps you out of it.
“O-Oh, I’m sorry!” You say, half-laughing, to the children who have begun to stare at you like a particularly curious bird in a tree. “Your costumes are just so cool, I was speechless!”
You begin to scoop handfuls of candy into their waiting bags and buckets. Most of them look eagerly at their growing haul and run away without another word.
One kid dressed like an oversized turtle yells out “THANKS!” before he, too, runs away. You look down the driveway and see that some of them have parents waiting, but most are traveling with friends. The turtle kid almost bowls over his mother, who looks back at the doorway. You expect her to wave and smile, but she only quirks her head a little at you before her son grabs her arm and drags her away.
You pay her little mind--it’s the trick or treaters that interest you, the way they happily shout to one another about what houses are giving out what, the shrieks you can hear when they are scared by electronic dolls that pop out when they pass a threshold.
What a lovely thing, that freedom.
What a lovelier thing, right now, for you to play your part in it.
There are no other kids running up the sidewalk towards the house, so Chrollo shuts the door for you. There’s a silence between you, until Chrollo reaches up and wipes away at tears that had just begun to make themselves known in the corner of your eye.
“Are you all right?” His voice is low, soothing. He doesn’t usually tease you when you cry. Maybe he knows it would push you even further away. You wonder, briefly, if your tears or his touch smeared your carefully applied witchy eyeshadow.
“Yes,” you say, when you realize he actually wants an answer. “I’m just…” How to explain the feeling in your chest? This warm, fuzzy feeling that only comes on Halloween and that feels amplified by the role you’re playing right now. “It feels weird,” you decide on. “To be finally doing this.”
Chrollo looks at you quietly. He nods, but says nothing more.
A few moments later, that beautiful sound returns.
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong.
And--
”Trick or treat!”
--
The night goes on wonderfully. You stay more or less by the door, though you occasionally wander into the living room to admire the decorations. You wonder how long it took Chrollo to put them up. Maybe this was why he was gone for the better part of the previous day, setting everything up so it was just right for you. The thought makes you feel… pleasantly tingly.
He thought of everything, actually. He even puts on a Halloween movie with the volume low, perfect for watching in between trick-or-treaters or peeking at from the entryway. While you’re handing out candy, you hear the microwave buzzing in the kitchen, and when you shut the door he hands you a plate with warm pizza on it.
It’s not the kind you usually get--you’re a pineapple on your pizza person, even if it might just condemn you to hell--but you suppose the options for pizza around here were different than in the city. It’s a little stale, too, but since it seems likely that Chrollo got it yesterday to avoid having to stop there on the way, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like some mediocre pizza was going to break the spell that the night was casting over you.
It was just… perfect. The air was cool but not terribly cold, and you felt like you could smell the leaves, the bonfires, the hint of apples and plastic pumpkin pails that seemed to rush through the door every time you opened it.
Chrollo makes light conversation. Not the exhausting philosophical discussions that he likes to pull from you, usually in the late hours of the morning, but light, fun, casual. He asks about horror movies, horror books. He asks what you typically dressed up as when you were young, and chuckles when you rattle off the exact list of your costumes age 4 to 12 in sequential order.
It feels, heaven help you, domestic. Like the kind of life you might have had, if Chrollo didn’t enter your life. Or if he wasn’t who he is, because he didn’t have to be out of the fantasy entirely. If he was the type to settle in the suburbs and buy a house with you and work 9 to 5 and come home tired but eager to see you, this could be your life. You would ask him to hang up the Halloween lights and he’d sigh but do it for you, because he knows you love it.
In return you’d promise to roast pumpkin seeds later that evening, and maybe even give him a kiss. The two of you could spend the night cozying up by the fire (a real one, not a fake one, perhaps you are too used to that luxury now--) drinking hot chocolate and making idle chit-chat.
His arms wrap around you suddenly, and you almost flinch as the cobweb of your fantasy is unknowingly stepped through. This close, you can smell the powder on his face, see the little dots of it that have caked on his skin.
“What are you thinking, dear?”
You look at him and for once don’t feel like telling him to shove it. For some reason, hurting his feelings right now would actually make you feel worse, not better. Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re on high; maybe it’s because he did all this for you.
“Just… that this is nice,” you admit. You smile at him, and it’s not forced. It really isn’t. “Thank you.”
Chrollo presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“I must say, my reward was well worth all this effort.”
You quirk your head, the gesture reminding you briefly of the mom from earlier before you return your focus to Chrollo. “What reward?’
Chrollo, surprisingly, pushes you a little bit away from him. A finger goes up to your chin and your cheeks feel heated at the sudden intimate touch.
“Seeing you light up like this all night. I don’t believe I’ve seen you like this before, not really.”
You feel silly. Not humiliated, but silly. This is the first time that he’s seen you happy, isn’t it? And you suppose, for someone like him, it must be some kind of treat for you to be happy. To be open. To not be hissing, metaphorically and otherwise, at his attempts to be around you.
It’s a little too much to confront right now.
You grab a slice of the pizza he left sitting on the side table, and take a bite. You chew through the cold dough. “It’s hard not to have a good time on Halloween,” you mumble, averting your gaze.
Chrollo chuckles at you, but lets you eat your pizza in peace. He takes up his own slice and chews, watching you look out the window, eager to see if more children come scampering down the walk.
--
You flick the porch light off with a sigh. The last trick or treaters have fizzled away, and the only people on the streets are tipsy people stumbling home from parties and the occasional person that you assume must be returning from a late night shift at work.
There’s a certain magic to this, too, but it’s different from the tingling atmosphere of Halloween evening. Now it is a fading feeling, the last whimpers of the night as life returns to normal in the morning.
“Shall we finish the movie?” Chrollo asks, and you nod. You may as well hold onto Halloween for as long as possible.
There’s still some candy left in the bowl, and you grab the whole bowl as you head into the living room. Chrollo follows you, turning off the kitchen light as he goes. That leaves only the dim lighting in the living room from the fake fireplace and the glow of the TV, which is playing the last few minutes of a schlocky B-horror movie.
When he takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him, you don’t hesitate. You don’t feel the need to, though you’d normally try to make a bargain for agreeing to sit next to him so readily. Now, though, you slide into the seat with the bowl in your hands and set it next to you.
There’s only one chocolate bar left, and you impulsively grab it and hand the bar to Chrollo, who raises his eyebrows briefly before accepting it.
“These are your favorite,” he says. “You eat it. I don’t mind.”
Your fingers curl on your thighs, but this time you don’t dig into your skin. Instead you merely look at a bit of pizza grease shining from the reflective TV light. “I know, but… it’s…” The words come out slow and sticky, like candy stuck to your teeth. “It’s a thank you. For this, I mean. Tonight.”
“Ah,” he says. After a moment, he unwraps the bar. Suddenly half a chocolate bar is shoved into your line of sight, and you look at Chrollo before letting out a little snort and taking it.
Sharing food with Chrollo didn’t feel so awful tonight.
Lots of things didn’t feel so awful tonight, actually. Like being in the same room as him. Talking with him. Laughing with him.
And maybe, maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you scooted closer to him, either. Just because the movie was actually a little scary, a side-effect of the new environment and too much greasy pizza on your nerves, probably.
So you do. And he doesn’t say a thing about it and that feels amazing, because if this was your life, it wouldn’t be so extraordinary to sit thigh-to-thigh with your lover on Halloween night. It wouldn’t be so extraordinary to turn slowly towards him and feel a flush of heat in your cheeks, your chest. Heat that was accompanied by gratitude for the way he found this abandoned house and decorated it so fully for Halloween and got you dinner and let you be normal, so perfectly normal, for one single night.
It wouldn’t be strange at all, really, for you to lean in close and kiss him on the mouth.
Chrollo’s breath mingles with your own and it feels like your first kiss, though your logical mind knows it’s far from it. But it’s the first kiss you’ve given him. Your hidden kiss, then, special and secret.
When it’s over, you lean your head against his chest and let him wrap his arms around you. The sofa creaks and you wonder, abruptly, why there was a sofa in a house where no one lived. Why a house with no one in it would have a fridge stocked with food or a manicured lawn or toiletries scattered in the bathroom. Why some of the parents looked at you funny, even after your fake wart had fallen off.
“Chrollo?”
“Mm?” He strokes your hair, keeping your head against him.
“How… did you come across this house? Did someone move out? Or--”
You don’t vocalize it. And with Chrollo, you don’t need to. He knows how your mind works better than you do, sometimes.
You hear him intake a breath, formulating an answer, and suddenly shake your head.
“No. Don’t,” you murmur, feeling yourself beginning to slide into sleep. An easy sleep. A completely ordinary Halloween-night sleep, brought on by the excitement of the holiday, the thrill of the goblins and ghouls who roamed the night and were satisfied with fistful after fistful of candy from your hands and nothing else.
“Never mind.” You whisper against his chest, and let your eyelids close. “Please, whatever happened, don’t ever tell me.”
#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere#afterwitch writes#aw horrorfest
746 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jamie sees Vecna: "Oh, fuck yeah!" 😂😭
82 notes
·
View notes
Photo
The Toking with the Dead 2022 tour is in full swing.. Come see us at one of the killa events and jump aboard the train 😎 @nickscomicstrip May 7th @railcityfanfest June 25th&26th @New England Toy & Record Show July 30th @maryland_pop_and_horror_con August 27th &28th @tidewaterhorror September 9-11th @cthorrorfest September 16th&17th.. #comiccon #horrorfest #horrorconvention #fanfest #indie #comicbooks #adulthumour #creator #writer #publisher #actor #indiefilm #onairtalent #unique #oneofakind #killingit https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc-p9qzuPr3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#comiccon#horrorfest#horrorconvention#fanfest#indie#comicbooks#adulthumour#creator#writer#publisher#actor#indiefilm#onairtalent#unique#oneofakind#killingit
1 note
·
View note
Text
Step right up to another wondrous round of DeanCas Horrorfest! The writers and the artists have collaborated to make this year one for the history books. We've got ghouls, we've got monsters, we've got blood, we've got gay love --- And when I say you shouldn't miss this, I mean you really don't want to miss this collection of spooky stories... you really don't know what could happen if you do 🤡🔪
I'd like to thank all our contributors for keeping the spirit of samhain alive and well. DeanCas Horrorfest would be nothing without enthusiastic cult members participants like you. ❤
So, without further ado...
You Better Not Stay || Rated E
story by @friendofcarlotta with art by @demeters-sketchbook
Recent high school graduates Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been friends since childhood, and dating in secret for a little over a year. But their relationship has an expiration date: Cas is leaving town, and Dean… well, Dean isn’t. Not with his dad breathing down his neck and a family business to run.
For their final date, Dean takes Cas to the old skating rink where they used to spend time as kids. What Dean doesn’t know is that when the rink closed down, something else took up residence there. And it won’t let them go without a fight.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
The (After) Life of the Party || Rated M
story by @thebatmandiaries with art by @milfycas
After a fight with Sam one night, Dean wakes up in a world he is unfamiliar with. This world only has one rule: kill or be killed. As a designated Killer, he must kill all the Survivors before they have a chance to complete their task. If he doesn’t, he ruins the risk of becoming a Survivor himself. With the help of Charlie and Benny, other Killers, he slowly finds his footing in the new world he was thrust into. If only there wasn’t a strange blue eyed man to distract him…
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Danger In The Mirror || Rated M
story by @dwinchester1979 with art by @keikakudom
Castiel is pulled through the mirror into a nightmare. Now his husband has to cover for his mysterious missing presence as he desperately tries to get Castiel back. Can they figure out the secret of the mirror before time runs out, or will Castiel have to face the girl with the silver dagger all alone?
Link to Fic || Link to Art
The Beginning || Rated E
story by @valleydean with art by @hawkland
One year ago, soon after Lucifer was freed from the Cage, Dean and Sam parted ways. Since then, Dean has been hunting on his own and, along with Cas despite his declining grace, searching for a way to prevent the apocalypse. When the outbreak of the Croatoan virus begins, Dean and Cas head to Bobby’s to plan their next move. On the way, as the contagion rapidly spreads through America, they must contend with the rabid infected, martial law, and humans who will do anything to ensure their own survival.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Clutch || Rated M
story by @dogfishmonger with art by @dolgoyangi
Dean is a normal, stable man in his 20s: He has a job. He has a boyfriend of three years, even if they're on the rocks. He has a little brother in pre-law. There are, simultaneously, things in his upbringing that he simply isn't supposed to question: His father's unexplained, undefined trips out of state. His mother's death. The body he once found in the basement. When Sam runs off in search of answers, Dean and Cas head east to find him. But after catching up with him, something's... different. Wrong. Dean and Cas are at odds—again—with Dean believing that Sam could be in danger, and Cas suspicious that Sam is the danger. Returning to normalcy will involve more digging into forbidden territory than Dean was ever prepared for. In the end, he doesn't even know if it was worth it. They're left with just as many questions as answers, and the answers they do have are ugly, insidious things, glistening oil-spill black and undulating.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
The Void Within || Rated E
story by @preetkiran1016 with art by @sketcheun
Dean's still getting used to the ache of loss and grief burning a hole into his chest. Still not used to the empty space where his brothers used to be. His life is a day to day drudgery, the eternal crawl, and since Cas broke up with him, he's not quite sure what he's got left to stick around for. When Jack and Claire go missing, well, he can't just sit back and watch. Digging deeper, Dean finds himself caught in the middle of a complicated web he can't hope to begin to untangle. Missing Kids, Doomsday Cults, and the sudden return of Castiel in his life have Dean spiraling, even with his trusted Service Dog, Miracle, by his side. But the one question remains, above all others- Who were the Men of Letters, and what were they doing in Lawrence? Dean doesn't think he's going to like the answer.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
The Crawling Dark || Rated T
story by @sylvanfreckles with art by @cactus-79
Dean was hoping for a straightforward case, something that would let him and Castiel have a little private time together. But what they found in the caves beneath Delving, Colorado was a stinking labyrinth of a death and decay, with an ancient horror at its heart. At the mercy of the darkness around them, Dean and Castiel must face a creature of immeasurable strength and insatiable hunger, with light as their only salvation.
After all, it is better to light a candle than to curse the crawling dark.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Apres Moi, Le Deluge || Rated M
story by @folkbloodbaths with art by @an-android-in-a-tutu
Dean and Sam are on a camping trip, and they haven’t been home in a few days.
When a sudden rainstorm and an injured ankle have them seeking shelter, an abandoned ranger’s cabin offers an unexpected port in the storm.
Except, the abandoned cabin isn’t abandoned. Is its occupant, Castiel, just a recluse, or is he someone — or something — more sinister?
Dean can’t help but feel drawn to him, even as he begins to have strange and terrible dreams about rising flood waters and a canopy of billowing black wings.
And still, the rain continues to fall.
Link to Fic || Link to Art (cw for flashing gif)
For Crying Out Loud || Rated M
story by @rowanspn with art by @solstheimart
Their relationship is perfect. At least, it was once. After a harrowing rescue from the depth of the Empty, a heartfelt reunion, and a breath of reciprocation, Castiel and Dean started to live life as they deserved. However, every Winchester knows that happiness does not stay long, not for that bloodline anyway. One night, following a fight worse than ever before, a terrible accident rips Castiel's life, and heart, in two. The guilt threatens to consume him but there is something far darker hiding in the shadows of his home. Will Castiel find a way to survive the ache in his chest or will the evil within his lonely walls kill him before it gets the chance?
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Shall We Begin Again? || Rated E
story by @livingonaprayerstiel with art by @blanchescarlettm
Castiel is rescued from the Empty and wants to pick up where he left off with Dean. But, it is soon revealed that the Empty is not as gone as it seems. Castiel will have to find out who or what can be trusted as he acclimates to his new life.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Tenebrous || Rated E
story by @deancodedcastielenby with art by @hawkland
The war is over, Chuck is done and it's now the time where the Winchesters get peace... or is it. The war against God may be over, but that doesn't mean smooth sailing. Jack promises to be hands off, but there is a storm coming almost 12 years in the making. Sam knows something is wrong with Dean, it started out small, but now.... now it's become a problem so he enlists the aid of Rowena and Eileen, the only ones he can count on, to help him solve the mystery of Dean Winchester before its too late.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Conversion || Rated E
story by @bleuzombie with art by @nickelkeep
In order to avoid a jail sentence trans man Dean agrees to attend religious-based residential treatment for 90 days. Dean fights to maintain his sense of self as he is attacked mentally, and physically, and fights to protect his new friends Charlie and Castiel. Soon the treatment turns to torture.
Jail would have been preferable.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
The Elevator Game || Rated E
story by @motherofdragonflies with art by @xfancyfranart
The game is simple.
Get in an elevator, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own.
When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”.
He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam.
Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late?
The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story.
But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Like Ivy || Rated E
story by @abi-cosmos with art by @soloarcana
Dean Winchester was raised to be a killer, but after losing his brother Sam, he could do with a chance to lay low and rest up.
Luckily, a 'roommate wanted' advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop leads him to Castiel, a professor at a local college who offers him three weeks' accommodation.
At first, Castiel gets under Dean's skin, but they soon develop a friendship within the isolated house they're living in. Despite how haunted he is by his past, or how Castiel seems able to read his mind, Dean feels drawn to him and can't help but take things further.
But Dean isn't the only one with secrets, and the line between friendship, love, and obsession gets bloody and blurry.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Rough Trade || Rated E
story by @squirrelofcelestialintent with art by @alicetallula
Dean is used to doing what he has to in order to get by, especially whenever his tough, temperamental father kicks him out during one of his rages. Even if it means getting on his knees for a little extra cash. He can take care of himself.
He always knew the dangers of a trick going sideways, and he accepted it. What he didn’t expect was for someone to burst out of the darkness and save his sorry ass. Least of all a weird, nerdy little dude who seems to have just as many secrets as Dean and doesn’t know how to use a vending machine.
Dean has street smarts and Castiel has (a little) cash. They’re both headed for the west coast to find their families. Teaming up seems like a safe bet.
But the more time Dean spends with Cas, the weirder he seems. And the more he suspects that what he saw Cas do to his attacker on the day that he saved him - the terrible, inhuman thing - wasn’t a trauma induced hallucination after all.
Screw it. With someone on their tail, Dean’s going to find out who his real enemies are soon enough.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Autumn Obscurum || Rated M
story by @xiejie-liubo with art by @hawaii-shirt-queer
Bartholomew's Bend is a quiet, ordinary place where ordinary people live their ordinary lives. Nothing of note ever happens, and all of the citizens are content to keep it that way. However, their tranquility is shattered when a series of disappearances startles the town's denizens, coinciding with the arrival of the Carnivale Obscurum and its proprietors, Asmodeus and Sands.
Inspired by Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Can You See Me? || Rated T
story by @kingdumbass with art by @ephemerastardust
Sioux Falls, South Dakota. 1995.
After being stowed with their Uncle Bobby for the foreseeable future, Dean and Sam set out to make the most of their summer ‘vacation’. When they aren’t filling warm afternoons splashing in the creek, riding their bicycles, or suffering through old TV reruns, they’re in for cleanup duty. Namely, sorting through all of Bobby’s old crap.
One day, while rummaging through the long-forgotten attic, Sam discovers an antique spirit board and convinces a skeptical Dean to try summoning a spirit. The results of which turn out to be a little more supernatural than Dean bargained for.
Link to Fic || Link to Art
Link to Ao3 Collection
Happy Halloween! 🎃👻
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another round of the bloodiest and sexiest event @deancashorrorfest is almost done, and just like last year it was an absolute BLAST. After reading @motherofdragonflies' prompt, I was ready to throw hands for that fic right away. I have not been disappointed, it's an incredible, fantastic, horrific, nightmarish reading experience. Bex, working with you has also been an experience - a very awesome one! Hopefully our collab paths will cross again, my friend 😘 "The Elevator Game" has inspired me to experiment and push past my artistic safe zone and I'm incredibly hyped about the results, so THANK YOU!
Side note: Since we're talking about a "Choose your own Adventure" fic here, the art pieces above depict moments from different paths throughout the story. I guess you'll need to see if you stumble across them in the fic 'naturally' 😉 (Sorry for the Nov 5th parallels in the last one btw.)
Will you be able to dodge the MCD tag? - Try to find your way in and out of the Otherworld now. Good luck.
If you decide to read "The Elevator Game", go HERE.
#deancas horrorfest 2023#deancas horrorfest#destiel#deancas#destiel fanart#destiel fanfic#deancas art#spn fanart#destiel art#horror#choose your own adventure#body horror#destiel kiss#bexgowen#xfancyfranart#collab
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here is my art fill for the @deancashorrorfest based on the awesome fic by @folkbloodbaths, featuring an endless rainstorm, isolation, strange dreams, and a creeping sense of unease as things aren't what they appear to be...
Read it here!
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Horrofest 2023] Can You See Me?
Link to fic | Author’s AO3
My piece for Horrorfest this year! I am so lucky to be paired with @kingdumbass and this beautiful story between ghost!Cas and young Dean :D
- Touch -
I picked this scene when I read the fic for the first time. It reminds me of the first meet between Dean and Cas in the show so much and I just cannot let it go - the collision of two worlds. I still didn't get the effect of sparkles right but thank this fic for giving me a chance to draw it!
- To my author who is also the mod -
I want to say thank you to my author kingdumbass! I still haven't seen the full fic yet, but the part I have read is very beautiful and nostalgic. I am so looking forward to the full work! Also thank them for organizing such a great bang for horror stories :D
#deancas horrorfest#Horrorfest2023#destiel#deancas#casdean#destiel art#destiel fanart#spn fanart#illustration#digital art#my art
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sorry I've been away, I've been consumed by my FE Awakening university AU where Athlete!Chrom and Chronically ill!Robin are roommates freshman year.
Chrom doesn't realize that Robin's asshole father is trying to sabotage him so he has to move back home, and just himbos his way into being a supportive roommate/best friend. Rearranges classes so he can help Robin get to his, keeps their fridge stocked in case Robin's too tired to go to the cafeteria, goes to special events and field trips with Robin so he has someone to lean on if he needs it (and drags Robin out to his games when he can, so he can be friends with the rest of the team). Takes Robin home with him every break, where Emmeryn and Lissa adopt him into the family almost as quickly as Chrom did.
(He likes when Robin wears his sweatshirts, because he's seen how threadbare his roommate's clothing is and Chrom has plenty to spare. Robin likes them because Chrom's house was the first place that really felt like home.)
(Chrom plays basketball, his jersey number is 13, he wants to be a social worker after his and his sisters' experience in the system. Robin's studying history with a hope to teach, and he'd have double majored in anthropology and archaeology if his health had allowed.)
#fire emblem awakening#fe awakening#chrom#robin#chrobin#m!chrobin#university au#athlete chrom#chronically ill robin#friends to lovers or platonic soulmates#could be either one#just fanfic things#rolling around in my brain#simmering in the old mental crockpot#next to my deancas horrorfest story
75 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tintedslimes
TintedSlimes
suzanbarr2
Untitled
junkoandthediamonds
NOW AT: @ectonurites
stock-coach-kind-development
Untitled
viwie
nekomiu ci chi