Deancas Horrorfest - Tumblr Posts
This October, a brand-new story and artwork is coming to you for @deancashorrorfest ! With art by @suninjang and a fic by yours truly, we've created something we're sure you'll love !
Rating: Explicit
Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - FBI Agents, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Castiel, Blood and Gore, Dean Winchester has a Crush on Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Issues (truly, without saying the plot outright even if it's somewhat obvious, anything else is a spoiler! But Dean has issues. Period.)
Summary: Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. Lately, they've been following a set of murders, cold cases that even Castiel - the bureau's best agent - can't solve. The murders seem entirely unconnected, no string to suggest that they're similar at all - that is until Castiel begins to recognize the victims. Suddenly, things are starting to slot into place, and Castiel isn't sure he likes where the signs are beginning to point.
Teaser: Once at the front desk, Dean worked out what they needed to be allowed access to the back room, and Castiel continued to look over the report.
The amount of injuries sustained were concerning, especially when Castiel began to wonder how exactly the killer had the time to inflict them all. Dean pulled him along into the back room, allowing Castiel to continue to read. “It’s strange,” he started, lifting up a page and being granted sight to another photo. “All the bruising around these cuts… It’s almost like…”
“Yeesh,” Dean exclaimed, taking in the sight of the body in front of him. “Looks like she got Tatum Riley’ed.” Castiel looked up from the report to give Dean a confused look, unsure of who Tatum Riley was. Dean didn’t seem too impressed by Castiel’s lack of knowledge, however, giving him a surprised look. “What? C’mon, man! Scream! Ghostface?” Castiel only shook his head. “I don’t understand that reference.” Dean scoffed, pointing over at the wounds. “Dude, I don’t know how you do so well at this job without seeing a horror movie or two. Look– Tatum Riley was one of the people that got killed in Scream, right? She got cornered by a killer in the garage and the door back in was locked. She tried to get out using the doggie door that was on the garage door, but she got stuck halfway through. The killer lifted up the garage door and crushed her in it while she was stuck.”
Castiel shuddered at the visual. It didn’t seem like a pretty way to go out.
“Anyway– look at this,” Dean continued, pointing at the bruising and cuts. “I mean, it doesn’t look perfect. There was probably a few knife slashes in there, y’know? The movie never actually showed Tatum’s wounds– I mean, you could see that the head was clearly fake when Sydney saw her later– sorry. We never actually saw how she looked after, under the shirt and all, but I’d imagine it might be similar to that.” Castiel nodded a bit, thinking about the scenario. It did seem probable.
“I was never actually told where they found her body,” Castiel admitted, looking over the body before back to the report. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go see what I can find out.” Dean nodded, shooing Castiel away. “Yeah, you go see. I’ll try to get a few other guesses on what might’ve happened to Riley 2.0 here.”
Making his way towards the front desk, Castiel allowed himself to think. A kill that seemed similar to a horror film? Could it be the same killer that he’d been unable to catch? If so, then the killer must’ve really switched gears — that, or Castiel was incredibly uncultured on horror movies to recognize similar murders (that very well could be the case; Castiel wasn’t one for understanding movie references).
A kill similar to a classic Scream death? The circumstances being different than the other cases? Is it really the same killer, or does the culprit have a vendetta against Castiel, a want to lower his self-esteem through a subliminal message worthy of being compared to Will Graham's first killer in Hannibal?
Find out more soon - It Will Come Back hits Ao3 this october . . !
Title: Night Shift
Author: SakuraKitty (aka me, WolfiePyxie)
Artist: @chaoticmessofmymind
Rating: Explicit
Tags/Archive Warning(s): Major Character Death, Magic/Curses, Torture, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Alternate Universes, Universe Hopping, Blood and Injuries, Self-Inflicted Wounds, Soulmates, Inspired by Night at the Museum, Historical Inaccuracies (If I say anymore it'll spoil the fic so I'll leave it at that 😆)
Summary: As far as job opportunities go, replacing the previous night guard of fifty years at the Nebraska Museum of Natural History wasn't Dean's first choice, but a job was a job . Especially considering he got fired from his last job and was in need of the money. However, said job proves to be more difficult than described.
Faced with strange events revolving around one of the exhibits he was tasked with guarding, an angel statue that was more than what it seemed to be, he must unravel the mysteries that arise as a result. Why did the angel statue come to life each night? Why did an unknown number keep messaging him the same sequence of numbers? It was a race against the clock and Dean's dwindling sanity to find answers to these mysteries.
Teaser: With more questions than answers, Dean slowly and cautiously began to enter the dark room, flashlight and bucket in hand. He would probably have a better time seeing what was going on if he turned on the flashlight but he wasn’t dumb. If there was some psychopath in here carving someone up like a Thanksgiving turkey, there was no way he was just going to give away his location. It would also help maintain the element of surprise, at least for the few moments that it would take to get deeper into the room. Once the flashlight is on there will be no hiding the fact that he was there and Dean was by no means weak, he went to the gym sometimes and though he might not be the biggest guy in the world, he still had a height advantage over a good portion of people. Now would that help him against an assailant with a knife? No, but he’d put up a good fight even if he was being dumb by walking into danger with only a bucket and flashlight. He didn’t even have his phone on him, it was still lying abandoned on the reception desk.
The wailing had tapered off into loud, ragged breathing now, as if whoever was doing this had decided to give their victim a moment's rest to prolong their fun. It felt all kinds of skeevy to refer to something like that as fun, even in his mind, but that was probably what the psycho viewed it as. Most killers in horror movies, if they weren’t doing it for revenge, usually did it because they just enjoyed hurting people. Having not been focusing on where he was going, Dean nearly slipped and fell when he stepped in something wet. There was also a heavy scent of copper in the air, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what that meant.
Looking down at his feet, Dean finally turned on his flashlight with a click of a button, finding that what he had stepped in was indeed blood, and there was quite a lot of it. Following the blood trail with both eyes and the flashlight, he was so shocked by what he saw that the bucket clattered to the ground as he lost his grip on the handle.
Coming soon this October to Ao3 via the @deancashorrorfest!
Coming this October from @deancashorrorfest …
Artist: @basketcasebetty
Author: @bleuzombie
Title: Survivalism
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.
Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.
He has never been so hungry.
Major Archive Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depiction of Violence
Tags: Cannibalism, Animal Autopsy, Animal Death, Eating Live Animals, Genetic Manipulation, Blood, Violence, Body Horror, Bad Scientific Practices, Human Experimentation, Physical Assault
A Little Taste:
The smell of the blood, rich and metallic, hits him and Castiel can’t stop the moan that escapes his lips. His stomach growls. He’s just missing burgers. That’s all this is. It can’t be more than that. He clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth, trying to take shallow breaths as he examines the rat before him.
“Specimen 651?” Castiel checks his notes, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Yes, I apologize. This is Dr. Novak performing an autopsy of specimen 651, previously confirmed with Hodgkins stage IV. I have opened the chest cavity, looking for evidence of…” Castiel watches as the blood coats his fingers. He really should be wearing gloves. He’s contaminating… everything. It’s so hard to think. Harder than it should be as he stares at the blood on his fingers. Castiel wants more. He wants more than anything to be covered in the ambrosia cooling around his fingers. Bloody fingertips pull off his mask and before he can think, Castiel picks up the rat, its head goes into his mouth and he bites down.
The taste of the rat is better than any other pleasure he’s known. Castiel shoves the rest of the rat in his mouth, chewing sloppily, trying to ingest it as fast as possible. He feels so hungry.
This October get ready to chow down…
*DEEP ANNOUNCER’S VOICE*
THIS OCTOBER…
Previews:
Shoes crunched softly in the snow as they walked down the street.
Dean stopped to look back when he felt the faint presence of Cas’ body next to his vanish.
Cas was frozen in the middle of the street, ears and eyes attuned to something imperceptible to Dean—or anyone else, based on their confusion.
“Cas?”
“Lights off,” he whispered harshly, ushering them between the tight, cramped space between the nearest two houses.
“Cas, what—”
Cas’ hand covered Dean’s mouth. A jackrabbit pulse was flush against his cheek. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dean could see how far away Cas’ eyes looked. Was he having a flashback?
FROM THE MINDS OF ENTROPIC_SAUDADE AND XFANCYFRANART …
Just as Dean was about to move away, he heard footsteps on the other side of the street, crunching rapidly through the snow. Far away at first, then closer, accompanied by harsh breaths.
Someone was running toward them.
The sound was followed by another rushing gait and an odd, throaty noise.
No, someone was running from something.
“No, no, no—!” a woman screamed as whatever it was caught up to her, cutting her off with a crack.
Dean wrestled in Cas’ grasp, a lifetime of hunter’s dogma telling him to go help, but Cas’ arms remained firm.
“Look,” he whispered, barely perceptible over the slurping sounds.
Between the cracks of the houses, illuminated only by the stars and the faint glow of the Aurora Borealis in the distance, was a figure.
It may have stood on two legs and worn clothes, but even in the dim light, Dean could see its pointed ears, the ichorous splotch of blood dripping down its fanged mouth, and its elongated fingers with furling claws hooked into its victim. The creature stopped drinking, looking up for a moment before screeching and hauling the body away to parts unknown.
As it looked up, its enlarged pupils glowed softly, holding stars of its own inside the void of its sockets.
Whatever the hell it was, these weren’t vampires Dean had ever seen before.
COMES A TWISTED TALE OF BLOOD AND DARKNESS!
Summary:
Few areas in the world are subject to the polar night phenomenon, a period where the sun never rises above the horizon.
When Castiel Novak reaches out to the Winchesters for help, convinced that vampires are about to descend upon one such town during the upcoming polar night, the boys head up to Point Hollow, Alaska to clear the nest before night descends.
What was meant to be a three-day stay, tops, devolves into sixty-five days of bloodshed and darkness as resources dwindle and bodies start dropping. Overwhelmed by the calculated organization of the creatures and the size of their nest, it quickly becomes clear that there’s more to the ‘vampires’ than initially seemed.
They’re cunning, they’re ancient, and they’re powerful—and they’ll stop at nothing to be satisfied.
But between the starving people and starving creatures, Dean manages to find solace in Castiel—who just might be holding a secret himself.
One that is key to destroying the creatures and their master, once and for all.
DEANCAS HORRORFEST STUDIOS PRESENTS…
"...for they shall be satisfied!"
Coming to an Ao3-supporting screen near you! Satisfy YOUR thirst this October!
Rated E for Explicit. Contains Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence.
Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate First Meeting, Casefic, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Arctic Setting, Isolation, Survival Horror, Canon-Typical Food Issues, Inspired by 30 Days of Night
With the devilishly gorgeous stylings of @xfancyfranart, for the @deancashorrorfest!
hold my hand until it bleeds
Story by: dean-winchesters-clit (night_belongs_to_us on AO3)
Art by: @chaoticmessofmymind
Rating: Explicit
Word count: ~40-50k
Tags/Archive Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, mentions of rape/non-con, self harm, suicide attempt, blood kink, canon-typical violence, canon divergence, post S14E10: Nihilism, psychological horror, psychological torment, intrusive thoughts, visual hallucinations, auditory hallucinations, Dean POV, Cas POV, Castiel and Dean Winchester have a profound bond, angel soul bonds, angel wings, wing fic
Summary: Michael stops pounding against the door of his cage almost immediately, deciding to take a more subtle approach in order to make Dean break. Visions, hallucinations, voices whispering in the back of his mind; Dean becomes paranoid and starts losing his grip on reality. With Rowena’s guidance, Sam and Castiel locate a cursed angelic artifact known by the Church as mani in fedé or ‘hands clasped in prayer’. The Church used it to subdue their enemies and keep their congregation in line, but it is rumored to have a different purpose that could destroy Michael and save Dean. With Dean rapidly running out of time, Castiel will do anything to save him, even if it means he will no longer be able to hide his feelings.
Preview:
Dean’s throat tightens into a vice, sucking in a gasp of air, and one of his whiskey fingers ends up on his sleeve at his sudden stop. He curses but ignores the soaked fabric in favor of focusing on the dark figure standing just around the hallway corner ahead of him. When he does, it vanishes. He blinks, shakes his head a couple times, looks again. It’s gone.
Dean sets the whiskey glass down and pulls his handgun from his waistband, quickly checking the clip before taking the weapon properly into his hands. He rounds the corner slowly, gun out in front of him, one hand on the grip and one supporting the base. The dark figure stands just down the hall from him, not even six yards away, but it vanishes again the moment his eyes and barrel are trained on it. Dean lowers the weapon and steps further down the hall.
Despite what Sam might say, Dean’s always been the quicker thinker and problem solver between the two of them. Sam may be a walking nerd-cyclepedia of lore and magic, but Dean has a finely sharpened sense of observation and a perfect score in pattern recognition.
He walks until he reaches a branching hallway, keeping his gun lowered but held tight in his hands. He stops just before the corner where the two halls meet and forces his gaze to fall to the floor. Dean allows his vision to blur, lets his eyes lose their focus and stare into nothing.
Then, in a shadow just around the corner, the figure reappears. Dean fights every instinct to immediately lock eyes with it and assess the danger, willing it to stay in the edge of his line of sight so he can figure out what the fuck it is.
It doesn't move, doesn't take a single step, doesn't even seem to be looking at Dean.
It's humanoid and skeletal, wearing some sort of long crimson robe or dress that trails around and behind it in tatters. Even if his eyes were focused enough to make out any distinguishable features, its head and face are shrouded by the shadow it stands in. Creepiest of all is that it's familiar somehow, like something Dean once saw in a dream, and god does he hope that there's no way in hell his dreams could-
The sudden shiver that runs down his spine feels like frozen lightning in his nerves.Dean's dreams of hell went from a nightly occurrence to a weekly occasion to a monthly happenstance over the course of a few years. Nowadays, with a decade of distance between him and his time in the Pit, his nightmares of hell are more of a once-in-a-blue-moon chance meeting than a common happening. But when he does dream of fire and brimstone... he dreams of them.
Coming to Dean🔪Cas Horrorfest this October! @deancashorrorfest
Listen to the playlist while you wait!
Sponsored by @deancashorrorfest comes a thought provoking piece of art drawn by the wonderful @suninjang and a story of celestial, twisted love written by me all taking place in the lonely last frontier: Space!
Presenting:
AO3 Rating: Explicit
Archive Tags/Warnings: Destiel, Space!AU, Horror, Psychological Horror, Space Horror, Space Engineer!Dean, Planet!Cas, Alien!Cas, Toxic Relationship, Unintentional Emotional Manipulation, Hallucinations, Canon Typical Violence, Anxiety, PTSD, Past Abuse Trauma Mention, Mental Manipulation, Unreality, Lines Between Reality and Dreams Blurred, Monster Canon Applies, Nightmare Sequences, Sleep Deprivation, Psychosis Resulting from Sleep Deprivation, Profanity
Summary: Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He's thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness, despite being seasoned astronauts. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment?
Sneak Peak!
"What the fuck is that?!? Ahhh!” Dean yelled in pain, the sound feeling as if it were pressing up against his eardrums, ready to shatter them. He got up, still covering his ears, and searched his room for a possible origin point. There was nothing that would have been making a noise like that here.
He began to open drawers frantically looking for any kind of relief…
And then it stopped. Just like that, the sound was gone and Dean was left standing bent over the drawer in his nightstand that he had been rifling through, panting. While he stood, trying to collect his thoughts and process what had happened, he heard a knock at the door.
“Dean? Are you ok in there? I heard yelling,” It was Kevin. One of the only two remaining healthy members of Team Alpha, was at his door. Their rooms were just across the hall from each other. If he had heard Dean yell, maybe he had heard that awful screeching sound too! Dean crossed the room in a few strides and popped his head out of the door.
“Hey, Kev,” Dean replied, trying to be as nonchalant in his line of questioning as possible. He didn’t need anyone thinking he was already losing it a mere 30 hours into his first space mission. “Yeah, yeah I’m all good. Just, uh, stubbed my toe pretty good is all,” Dean chuckled nervously.
“Oh, ok,” Kevin replied, still looking concerned. His eyes flicked down to where he could just see Dean’s feet through the open part of the door. “Must have been pretty bad to yell like that when you’ve still got your work boots on,” Kevin met Dean’s eyes with a look of cutting knowing.
“Oh, yeah, well I thought I should put them back on after I stubbed it so good, ya know? But, uh, hey, anyway, I’m glad you’re here. Have you heard any high-pitched, screeching noises lately? Like, in the last few minutes or, I don’t know, ever?” Dean asked, trying to mask his desperation and hoping it didn’t show through in his voice. He needed to know he wasn’t the only one who had heard that sound.
Kevin’s brow knit together, “High-pitched screeching? Do you mean like from any of the equipment or…?” he trailed off, waiting for Dean to give him more details.
“Uh, yeah! Just like equipment. Of course, haha. I think there’s something that needs tightening or loosening or something around here but I haven’t figured out where it’s coming from,” Dean lied.
“Huh…,” Kevin thought for a moment. “No, I can’t say I’ve heard any equipment making a screeching noise, or any other noise like that for that matter. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Great, thanks Kev,” Dean waved goodbye and shut the door. He slumped against the door in defeat.
Perfect. That’s just what he needed. He didn’t know much about sound, but he knew machines. That was not a noise that a machine could make.
What the hell was that?
Join us in October to see what happens next! 🧑🔧🚀🪐🛸
Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest, @hexentaenzerin and I (IncandescentUmbrage) proudly present...
Wicked Muse
Rating: Explicit
Word count: ~15,500
Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Ships & tags: Dean/Cas, AU no supernatural, murder husbands, corporate setting by day, torture-y setting by night, and they lived wickedly ever after
Summary:
Castiel Novak is a solitary creature. Corporate engineer by day, serial killer by night, and always by himself. Just the way he likes it. Until a new coworker's long, bowed legs, green eyes, and crooked smile catch his eye. He's certain he'll have to kill Dean, at first. He can't afford distractions, living the double life that he does. When the time comes, though, he just can't bring himself to do it. Artistic inspiration, long dormant in Castiel's life, replaces murderous intent. As his obsession grows, so too does a newfound wish that he could share the deepest, darkest depths of himself with Dean. That Dean would understand, would accept, would even celebrate Castiel's bloody inclinations. But that's absurd. Unthinkable. Dean isn't like that. Is he?
Teaser:
“Heya,” the new guy said, grinning crookedly as he extended a hand. “Dean Winchester, Quality Control.”
Castiel’s body worked on autopilot as his brain fell into a red-tinged haze. He reached across his desk, catching the other man’s—Dean’s—hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “Castiel Novak, Lead Engineer.”
Dean’s grin grew bright with excited recognition. “Oh, you’re the engineering guy! Awesome! Sounds like we’ll be working pretty closely together. Lookin’ forward to it, man.”
Dean leaned in close to clap a friendly hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel was frozen again, staring up at Dean’s long neck and chiseled jaw. My god, this man would be gorgeous even dead. Especially dead.
“Well, it’s getting late, and we’ve still got quite a few people to introduce you to, Dean. Shall we get moving?” Nathaniel’s voice cut in, jolting Castiel out of his daze.
“Sure thing. Great to meet you, Cas!”
As quickly as they arrived, the two men were gone again, leaving Castiel reeling at his desk. A flurry of thoughts whirled through his mind, each as intangibly fleeting as a snowflake in the air.
Dean was beautiful.
My work needs no one’s quality control.
He hadn’t even minded when Dean had called him ‘Cas.’ It was a jarring contrast to the murderous rage that rose within him every time Ash did the same.
He’s a distraction. Don’t let a pretty face pull your focus.
But, god, what a face. And shoulders… chest… legs. He could wrap those legs around himself and take his pleasure from Dean’s writhing body, just before picking up his knife and—
Castiel huffed out a breath, raking a hand through his already-wild hair as the inevitable conclusion crept into his consciousness. Yes, his day job was boring as shit, simply a means to an end. His real work, the calling he fulfilled on his own time, that was the mission he’d always felt was worth his devotion. A beautiful man shouldn’t—couldn’t—change that. It was settled, then.
Dean Winchester had to die.
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!
When a vampire hunt, a college camping trip and a deranged killer collide, romance is hard to come by. But this is Dean and Cas - they'll manage somehow.
Dean/Cas Horrorfest presents...
Dean & Castiel vs. Evil
Artist: @xfancyfranart
Author: @friendofcarlotta
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 31k
Tags/Warnings: Fusion with “Tucker & Dale vs. Evil” (2011), Horror Comedy, Hunters Sam and Dean, Blood and Gore, Minor Character Deaths (so many), Angry Hornets, Minor Cannibalism, Chainsaws
Summary:
Castiel is trying to survive a camping trip to the Appalachians with his annoying fraternity brothers. At a nearby cabin in the woods, Dean is trying to clean up the remains of his and Sam’s recent vamp hunt. Both Dean and Castiel wouldn’t mind exploring their mutual attraction.
But there’s a problem: due to a series of misunderstandings, Castiel’s friends are convinced that Dean and Sam are serial killers. Worse, as Castiel’s friends start to die in increasingly grisly ways, it becomes apparent that there actually is a killer on the loose. Will Dean and Castiel be able to find the killer? More importantly, will they ever be able to score some alone time?
Preview:
“The hell… did you even… do… to this one?” Dean asks, grimacing down at the vamp corpse they’re currently schlepping between them. It doesn’t just look decapitated — it looks fucking eviscerated. Half the torso is torn up, blood and guts spilling out in an untidy trail all down the cabin’s front steps and across the yard. They have to drag it by the legs instead of the arms, like they usually would.
“Don’t know,” Sam says, shrugging as he pauses to study the mess too. He finally looks like he’s feeling the strain too, cheeks red and sweat pearling on his forehead, but Dean’s going to be the bigger man and not mention it. Or at the very least, he’s going to wait to tease Sam until he’s got enough of his breath back to do it properly. “Freshly sharpened blade I guess, and the guy moved right as I was swinging at him. Sliced clean through his torso.”
“Huh.” That may be true, but Dean’s also occasionally suspected his not-so-little brother of popping steroids to make him so freakishly large and strong. The current situation really ain’t helping Sam’s case. “Well, whatever. Let’s just get the fucker in the pit with the others.”
They move to do just that, but they don’t make it far. Because straight ahead, walking out of the woods towards them with a friendly smile and a dorky little wave, is Castiel.
Dean can tell exactly the moment he clocks what’s going on — or thinks he does. The smile drops off his face, and his hand drops too, all of him seeming to sag lower all at once. He stares down at the mangled corpse Dean and Sam are dragging between them, blinking slowly at it, like he can’t quite believe this is happening to him.
Not that Dean can blame him. Of all the scenarios he dreamed up about him and Castiel meeting again, a badly disfigured vamp corpse didn’t figure into a single one of them.
“Fuck,” Castiel says — just that, but he gives it some real oomph. Like he’s never meant anything in his entire life the way he means that.
And then he spins around and runs for the trees.
Just a couple of seconds too late, Dean finds his voice. “Cas, wait!” Cas? Where the hell did that come from? “I can explain!”
Cas, perhaps not surprisingly, doesn’t pay him any mind. He keeps running back towards the treeline, arms and legs pumping hard, and he—
—collides with a low-hanging branch.
Cas goes down hard, sprawling onto his back on the forest floor, and Dean almost thinks he can feel the ground shake with the impact. It’s like Cas said: fuck.
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.”
THESE HALLWAYS ECHO
A @deancashorrorfest fic coming this October!
Story by @thefastestqueeralive Artwork by @celestialstarlight27
Rating: Mature
Word Count: ~9000
Tags/Warnings: Major character death, graphic description of suicide, body horror, blood and gore, isolation, suicidal thoughts
Teaser:
Loneliness. Previously, Dean Winchester had thought he knew the definition of the word, the way it felt to be isolated. That was wishful thinking. It’s here and now, in these never-ending corridors of winding walls and this damn carpet with the nauseating pattern, where Dean discovers the true meaning of being alone. Solitary. Detached. The man hears ghosts, echoes of conversations long since over, but there’s nobody for him to speak to. Dean sees the phantoms of late vacationers stepping through doorways or occupying beds but he can never get anybody’s attention. No one stops to hear him. Not a single soul has looked him in the eye or acknowledged that he, too, is trapped here. Caught in this unending hallway where time means nothing and waiting for tomorrow is fruitless.
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.
no spill blood
story by @howldean | art by @witchy-worm created for @deancashorrorfest
rated: explicit | warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, stanford era, creature!cas, case fic, dean is so sick of witches, identity porn, angst
summary: A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth.
Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple.
teaser: Dean had to figure out what to do with this Castiel guy. Sooner or later, he was going to start asking questions– honestly, he was surprised they hadn’t started already, the usual 'what the fuck's and 'what the hell was that's that tended to come with the job.
But he had questions of his own. He hadn’t seen an altar like that before. Nor had he seen that kind of bad mojo propped up on a shitty set-up, either. Maybe she was rushed, assuming the witch that caught him was working alone.
He doubted he was that lucky.
So what the hell kinds of plans did she have? Why go through the trouble of killing this many to begin with? Just what kind of vendetta did she have? And against who. Rifling through his journal and picking apart newspapers, he sought out whatever the hell he was missing. This was the kind of shit that should click, come to him clearly. Sam had a knack for it. Spotting the pattern.
Dean pushed the thought aside, and pushed the clippings off of his lap. That didn’t matter, he wasn’t here, and they hadn’t talked in– they weren’t talking. Dad knew he could get shit done on his own. That’s why he was on his own. So he just had to take care of this, focus. There was something here, a connection between them all, a reason they were targets. They went missing before they were found dead, that was worthwhile.
Glancing up, he hoped Castiel could be the key. He was still alive. Whatever the witch wanted him for, she hadn’t been done with him. Maybe he knew why.
this october, ask yourself: who makes the rules?
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
Any Way That You Want Me
Written by: @doctorprofessorsong
Art by: Aggiedoll
Rating: Mature
Word count: 10,500
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.
Excerpt:
The sound of the stairs creaking sets Dean’s teeth on edge, but he ignores it.
Instead, he cracks open the book in front of him, clinging to his last shred of patience.
Reports of the practice of catoptromancy, that is, the use of mirrors for divination…
The creaking gets louder. Dean grumbles under his breath, but he doesn’t give that bastard the satisfaction of a reaction.
Instead, he shifts, refocusing on the words in front of him.
Reports of the practice of catoptromancy, …
The creaking is joined by an obnoxious scraping noise.
Dean growls in frustration. “Dude, I'm serious. Some of us are actually trying to get things done in here. You can have all of eternity to perfect your symphony once I get Cas outta that damn mirror, so please just knock it off and let me concentrate.”
In the smallest of mercies, the house goes silent.
Almost too silent.
Dean blinks, once again directing his attention to the page.
Reports of the practice of catoptromancy, that is, the use of mirrors for divination, can be found in ancient Greece, Egypt, China and India. In this chapter, we'll examine how these superstitions shaped the fiction of the cultures around them. One of the most popular examples of this practice is Snow White…
Dean throws the book against the wall, enjoying the satisfying thwack it makes.
A freaking Disney Princess.
This is hopeless.
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!
Someone to Punish Me
Story by @nickelkeep Illustrated by @alicetallula Written for @deancashorrorfest
Rating: Explicit Tags/Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dubious Consent (Briefly, then extremely consensual), Stanford Era Dean, Alternate Canon, Creature Castiel, Dean Winchester POV, Monsterfucker Dean Winchester, Silent Hill Crossover, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Sex as Repayment, Ambiguous Ending. Summary: Dean's chasing another lead for his old man, this time ending up in Maine, searching for the town of Silent Hill. Residents of nearby Cushing tell him to stop looking, but he can't help it. He's got a job to do, after all. After a resident finally points him in the right direction, Dean finds his way up the mountain to Silent Hill. But there's so much more to the town than John let on. And so much more that Dean needs to learn about himself. Teaser: "I still have no fucking clue who you are." Dean pushed himself up on his elbows, his fear barely covered by the false bravado he shoved to the front. "Or what the fuck you are." The broad-shouldered man— Dean was assuming; it was hard to tell when the guy was wearing a giant fucking pyramid on his head. How could he even see through that thing?! —yanked his sword out of the dead, mutilated, dog-like thing and pointed it at Dean. Dean swallowed sharply and started to inch back as quickly as he could before bumping into the fence that the original monster had backed him into.
A deep and quiet voice growled from under the oddly shaped helmet. "I'm the one who just saved your life. I think you should show me some respect."
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!
COMING SOON to AO3 on October 7th
Oubliettes of Stone and Sky
Author: @kayliemalinza
Artist: @kingdumbass
Written for: @deancashorrorfest
Word Count: 9,000
Rating: Mature (for violent content, not sexual)
Tags: Fantasy AU, Graphic Description of Injuries, Setting inspired by the U.S. Dust Bowl, Character Dynamics inspired by the alley fight in 5x18 Point of No Return, Ambiguous Ending, Manhandling, BAMF boop (AKA the thing where Cas puts his fingers on people's foreheads to put them to sleep)
Warnings: brief reference to cannibalism, brief references to being buried alive, mummification, imprisonment, waterboarding (not in a torture context), animal injury/endangerment (it ends up okay)
Not as intense as the tags make it sound imo.
Summary: Dean is trying to sacrifice himself for his country like any good king would, and Cas has been sent to stop him. Cas has to keep Dean hostage while journeying through a dust storm and a castle with a mummy inside. Dean is waiting for the chance to escape--and Cas is ready to capture him again.
Preview:
This time, Cas isn't saving Dean from an oubliette; he isn't a shadow in the mouth of the pit, framed by sunlight. He's a ghost coming in from nowhere and he's stopping Dean from saving the kingdom.
Cas is pissed. Dean's seen that look before, always right before Cas deals some serious damage, and never, never before directed at Dean.
Dean turns tail and runs. It's strategic, dammit: he's at the edge of the desiccation, so close to where the dust stops and grasses stretch up, close to the border of Michael's Keep. Cas won't follow him there; Cas can't, not without risking another pummeling like the one that should've killed him the last time.
Cas can't travel between one blink and the next anymore, but he's still fast as hell. He clamps an arm around Dean's waist like a manacle and Dean goes down hard, torso on scratchy-springy grass and legs on the piled up dust. Cas yanks him back into the desert and the blows are coming, steady and professional: ribs, belly, bolt of jaw. Dean cries out more in offense than anything else--Cas has never hit him like this, not in all the times Dean has annoyed him or trained with him in the royal yards. "Stop, please," Dean whimpers, and when Cas does, Dean knees him hard between the legs.
Dean catches just an instant of shock-wide eyes before he's flipped himself and scuttled away.
He's caught again just a few seconds later. Cas' entire weight slams into him, knee pinning him down at the small of his back. Dean forces himself to draw a slow, steady breath, mostly to prove to himself that he can despite the angelic weight on his ribs, and digs his fingers into the grass. All he has to do is stay put. Michael watches the grasslands. It's only a matter of time before he comes out to take custody of Dean.
But Cas yanks him back, knee still pressing down. Dean's shirt rides up and grass scrapes at his belly and face. Cas pauses, adjusts his weight--slaps Dean hard on the flank when he tries to squirm away during the split second of lighter pressure--and yanks him back another few feet.
"This is technically treason," Dean pants, then coughs when another yank puts him face-down in the dust.
"Prince Sam sent me," Cas says, unnecessarily, because Dean's little brother is the only bastard stupid enough to do anything other than give Michael what he wants.
@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