#Tale Tellers Fright Night

[liminal-storage]

9

Characters: Kuni Muinvel

Song: Clann-Once Again

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Spin, whirl, daylight lost.

The rain’s steady drizzle and drip. 

Shrieking gales, warm fanning flames. 

This place is a span of ever-flowing change, unpredictable and wild. Beautiful and horrifying all at once. In the skies on one side floats the image of a span of endless night, framed with burning trees. On the other side, a vast and cloudless sky where swarms of golden-winged creatures ride the wind. Spliced here and there lie scraps of other spaces; deep caverns flecked with glimmering crystal, dark pools swirling with unseen lurkers. A vast and twisted valley overgrown with green. A barren stretch of parched and sweltering stone. 

There is much to see here. The pictures reflected in the sky show places she may never reach, projected glimpses of places she wishes she could simply reach out and touch. 

She dances here. With the whisper of the wind and the rustling of the strange plants that grow here, she finds the notes of her song.

Never has she felt lost along the infinitely numbered paths here. She can walk for an age and never tire. It is home, and yet she always feels her time in the space is fleeting. She has not yet learned how to accurately track the passage of time here, after all, and she’d rather not lose track of how things align with the other side, her other home. 

Yet there is a deep longing that remains within her every time she departs from the reaches of the Threshold, a desire to bring others here so that they too may bear witness to the fathomless dream-like landscapes she can see far in the distance, just beyond her reach.

A story-lover she has been all her life, a teller of tales and a collector of others’ lore. Yet, for all that fixation she finds it near impossible to share her own tales. For how can she possibly spin the words to properly describe such chaotic, frightful beauty? How can she do anything but soak it all in and hope that one day, when she’s grown into her own enough, she finds a way to take someone’s hand to pull them along these surreal and breathtaking pathways?

[clairethecutepup]

"Fazbear Frights," A Fan-Song's Lyrics...

It all started with a plan: “Bring fun and imagination to life!” But little did anyone know, it’d only invite death and strife… As if five children weren’t enough, ended by a purple guy, More bodies build the pile, or we face worse than to simply die, All because of the evils they’re able to hide from our eyes…

The horrors we “Fetch” ourselves, engaging with this enterprise, “Count the Ways” in which they’ve ended and ruined our lives, “Into the Pit” of Hell we go, from the nightmares brought to life,

Get ready to pay your damning price, For inviting in these Fazbear Frights!

We just wanted some fun or innocently desired something else, Even when acting less moral, did we deserve our personal Hells? There just never seems to be an end for all the tales we can tell, No matter the source, it’s always a story of whom tragedy befell, No matter the teller, it’s never ending woe that none can ever quell…

Will you perish or cry out in guilt: “It Should’ve Been Me,” As nightmares strike, whether awake or “In Your Dreams”? “At Least You’re Here,” so our suffering won’t be lonely…

Get ready to pay your damning price, For inviting in these Fazbear Frights!

Please, we just want to rest, Please, free us of this mess, Free us, let us finally move on, Free us, let our situation be done, Some of us children, making it cruel, Some of us adults, just acting the fool, We’re sorry for our mistakes, We’re sorry for our choices made,

You’d definitely agree our torment’s gone long enough already, You’d definitely be lucky to spend just “Five Nights at Freddy’s”…

In waking life or “In Your Dreams,” you’ll “Fetch” yourselves nightmares for eternity! We’ll “Count the Ways” they’ll doom you or leave you crying, “It Should’ve Been Me”! “At Least You’re Here,” still alive and well, yet to fall “Into the Pit” of hellish misery…

Please, avoid paying your own damning price, By never inviting in these Fazbear Frights!

Just a little fan-song I wrote, inspired by the Afton Family song-- the remix, specifically.

Also, the other three stories are actually part of my "Fazbear Frights: Fanfiction Chronicles" series.

In Your Dreams: a crossover with Corn Kidz 64, in which Security Guard Claire realizes the animatronic versions of Seve and Alexis can dream-- and pull her into them. They want to have dreams with her, FOREVER.

It Should've Been Me...: Young Spartak "Sparky" Winnings has to deal with the grief of his also-employed sister dying to a springlock failure with the mascot costume. Is survivor's guilt making him hallucinate, or is her spirit blaming him and seeking revenge?

At Least You're Here...: Another crossover, though with Ed Edd n' Eddy. Double Dee is particularly lonely, after a fight sees him and the other two Eds stay apart for now. His intelligence allows him to partake in Fazbear Entertainment's "paid scholarship" program: he simply uses his inventive gifts to help the company build two new "Fun Time" animatronics, Sarah and Jimmy (who don't exist as normal humans in this reality). Unfortunately, perhaps the jester and ballerina aren't authentic in their sentient concern of the boy's isolated predicament with family and friends...

[autolovecraft]

His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about.

What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? Birch still toiling. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks.

After a full two hours Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. Clutching the edges of the aperture. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might.

Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Birch, being by temperament phlegmatic and practical, did not shout long; but proceeded to grope about for some tools which he recalled seeing in a corner of the tomb. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. Undisturbed by oppressive reflections on the time, the place, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. Armington helped Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. Birch heeded this advice all the rest of his life till he told me his story; and when I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was wise in so doing.

Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed?

Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. An eye for an eye! Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, but you always did go too damned far! Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he vaguely wished it would stop. Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer.

What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. Birch heeded this advice all the rest of his life till he told me his story; and when I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb.

[valiantkingdomkitty-blog]

The Beginning - Aragorn x Reader

For: Tale Tellers Fright Night 2017 Hobbit/lotr

Promot: “If you don’t want to see me naked, don’t open my door without knocking.

Halloween Theme: Honoring the dead

Warnings: language, mention of family death, war, killing, smut

A/N: This is the first lotr fanfiction I’ve written so I chose my favorite character Aragorn. I’m happy with the way it turned out, thank you for letting me participate in your challenge @sdavid09 I hope you like it.

Y/n had gotten back to her room after taking a bath, she had her clothes laid out on the bed. Suddenly her door opened and Aragon stepped in the room, “oh I’m sorry Y/n, I didn’t, I was just” he stuttered. “If you don’t want to see me naked, don’t open my door without knocking” Y/n said. “Yes, I’m terribly sorry, I’ll leave you now” he said, “Aragorn, no need to leave, you can turn around now” Y/n said. He turned around seeing she’d put her dress on, “I knew you wanted to go to your family’s grave sight today, it is too dangerous for you to go alone. I thought I’d escort you” he said.

“Yes that be nice, Aragorn thank you, you don’t think they’ll be any Orcs” she said. “If there are any, I will protect you” he said, “I’m sure, they just scare the life out of me, after what happened to my family” she said. Two years prior Y/n’s entire family were killed by Orcs, Aragorn had rescued her. She’d been staying with him ever since, she also was in love with her savior, but was too scared to say anything. Little did she know Aragorn felt the same for her, he just didn’t want her to feel obligated to be with him.

Y/n had told of Aragorn’s arm as they left the cottage, they went to the stable his horse was ready. Aragon helped her up on the horse and they rode through the forest. They stopped where her village stood before the Orcs destroyed it, upon seeing her old village, her eyes filled with tears. Aragon slid off the horse he held out his hands helping her off the horse, immediately saw her tear filled eyes.

“Y/n, is it the first time you’ve been back here” he said, “yes, I couldn’t bring myself to come last year and I felt so guilty” Y/n said. “You had nothing to feel guilty for, wasn’t safe in these parts, last year. It’s no longer Orc land” Aragorn said. They walked down the trail, following it to the graveyard. Y/n went to the first four graves in the middle where her father, mother, sister and brother laid. Y/n took the incense sticks, candles Aragorn made a fire to light the incense and candles. She put a bouquet of flowers on each gravesite, “I’m sorry I haven’t been by, but I live you all and I miss you all dearly, I’ll come back soon” she said.

Y/n stood up tears flowing from her eyes, Aragorn put his arms around her pulling her close. He hugged her tight, rubbing her back soothingly trying to calm her as she cried. Y/n lifted her head looking up at Aragorn, “if we could, I’d like to go my favorite place here” she said. He swept some hair behind her ear nodding his head, they took the path down to the creek.

“This was my favorite place when I lived here, I used to come here to be alone and my sister would always follow me" she said. "It is very beautiful here, I can see why you like it here" Aragorn said, he sat on the creek bed. Y/n sat next to him, he put his arm around her, she laid her head on his shoulder. He turned his head at the same time she turned hers and their lips connected.

Aragorn kissed her lips, his tongue slid over her lower lip, she parted her lips for him. His tongue explored her mouth, she opened her dress and he broke the kiss and pulled it over her head. Aragorn removed his shirt, while she took off her undergarments. He pushed her back gently laying her on the blanket on the ground. He kissed down her neck to her chest, he kissed each of her nipples, his hands massaged her breasts.

Y/n ran her fingers through his hair, she ran her hands over his strong muscular back. Y/n spread her legs for him, Aragorn positioned himself between her legs, he pushed his cock into her. Y/n moan softly, he nibbled her neck giving her time to adjust to his cock in her pussy. "Please, Aragorn, move please" she moaned, he pulled out, pushing back in. He started thrusting setting a fast pace, Y/n was moaning and chanting his name.

Y/n bucked her hips up matching his pace, their hands explored each other's naked bodies. Aragorn could tell she was close, he slid his hand between them finding her clit rubbing circles on it. With a chant of his name her orgasm shot through her, the feel of her climax caused him to spill his cum into her. Aragorn rolled to his back pulling him with her, he adjusts the blanket so it was covering them.

"That felt incredible, like you were made for me" Y/n said, "I agree, I have loved you the second I saw you, I didn't want you to feel obligated to be with me" Aragorn said. "I've loved you too, since the day you rescued me" she said, "I have a question to ask you, Y/n will you share my life and my bed and give me the honor of being my wife" he said, "Yes, yes I will Aragorn" Y/n said, they redressed and went back to the cottage.

Forever tag list @uniquewerewolfsuit @jenanicolette @jenniferdixon @nrjdmgirl @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @jessicawritessmut @brielyhnamore @jenickafrank @tarasalana @totallypaletrash @massivelyburningwasteland @ripburninhell @lostmyothershoe-itsoksammy @magicalunicorn84 @superbasementflower @zombiebait92

[specialagentlokitty]

Bucky x reader - three years apart

This is for @sdavid09 Halloween writing challenge the Prompts are Movie: Casper and song: bring me to life

A/N: so I was a bit stuck on this so I decided to throw in some Soulsmate stuff inspired by an anime I love “Your Name”, Its not really Halloween or spooky but I really love how it turnt out!

Oh how the world was so cruel at times. So horrid to connect two souls together. You loved the idea, until you realised that you both weren’t in the same year.

The first time it happened you didn’t know what to do. One night you went to sleep in your bed, and the next you woke up to completely different room.

Your heart raced as you slowly sat up, eyes looking around the room, it was a nice room you’d have to give it that, but it wasn’t yours.

You slowly stood up and glanced around, eyes landing on another door you carefully walked over and slowly pulled it open.

Stepping into the bathroom and determining it was safe, you stepped in front of the mirror and nearly screamed.

How can you see into my eyes like open doors?

Leading you down, into my core

Where I've become so numb, without a soul

The eyes looking back at you weren’t your own. They were cold blue, tired and worn. Almost emotionless.

“Wh... what... h.. how...”

The voice was gruff and deep, void and nearly all emotion.

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

You stood there in front of your shambles town, the distant memories playing through your head on repeat.

It was the only thing that kept you happy, but at the same time it was what tied you down to this place.

A memory of someone you once knew and loved, who doesn’t know what happened to you.

Your ghost simply just standing here alone day in and day out.

Until you find it there, and lead it, back, home

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, starring at the lively (E/C) eyes that stared back at him. He was confused to say the least.

“What...?” He whispered.

A phone started ringing making him jump, heading back into the bedroom, he picked it up and examined the name.

Wake me up inside

Bucky never recognised it so he ignored it and after the call ended a text came through.

‘You’re going to be late for work!’

Work? Bucky didn’t know what was going on let alone where this body worked. He gazed around the room completely lost until his eyes landed on a uniform, and a tag that he picked up as he walked over.

(Y/N).

Wake me up inside

You turnt away from the Murrow and stood in the bathroom door completely lost.

“Bucky?” Another Male voice called walking in.

A blond man came in and just stood there, when he noticed you, or rather the man’s body you were in he smiled.

“Ready?”

“For.. what?”

The man laughed and shook his head, crossing his arms.

“Training.”

“Oh.. right... yeah..”

So that was his name.

Bucky.

Call my name and save me from the dark

You woke up.

Bid my blood to run

Bucky woke up.

Before I come undone

The life you lived was just a memory of some faint dream.

Save me from the nothing I've become

Now that I know what I'm without

Weeks slipped by, and you both learnt what you could about each other. You left each other notes in your phones about what you did.

Things you could and couldn’t do or say. What you had to get done during the days. You made it easier on yourselves.

You can't just leave me

Then suddenly the changes stopped.

Both you and Bucky waited a few days but nothing happened, that’s when you both decided to search for one another, how hard could it be.

Breathe into me and make me real

You knew where Bucky lived, or at least the city. So you headed there, you always wanted to go to New York.

Bring me to life

And Bucky decided he was going to head to your town.

Wake me up inside

It was a long trek for you both, trains and busses mainly. But as you made it to New York you couldn’t help but stare in wonder and amazement at everything as you slowly made your way around.

You knew Buckys daily routine now, so you got on the subway to Brooklyn and carefully stepped off as you arrived. Eyes scanning the station as you left when a familiar figure looked in front of you.

“Bucky!” You smiled.

The broody man turnt around and gazed at you with an emotionless look. He stared at you for a moment.

“Do I know you?” He asked.

“I...” you trialled off.

Did he forget already?

You didn’t know that for Bucky this was three years before the swap. You didn’t know you were three years behind him. You thought you lived in the same time.

The sound of the announcement of a train departing cut your thoughts and you watched Bucky head towards the train so you trialed behind and stood there looking at him sadly.

He quickly spun himself around to face you.

“What’s your name?!” He ruses out.

Ripping your necklace off, you reached out, and he did the same fingers brushing each other’s as the doors started closing forcing you to bring your hands back.

Wake me up inside

Call my name and save me from the dark

“My names (Y/N) (L/N)!” You yelled just as the doors closed.

Bid my blood to run

Bucky soon arrived near your town. There was a bus stop about 20 minutes walk away, so with a smile he happily walked there.

But as he got closer his smile dropped, caution tape and faces where everywhere. He sprinted towards them, nearly crashing into them as he stopped, his fingers curling into the metal as he looked below.

A destroyed village, pieces of a life that was once there.

“It was destroyed by an earthquake...” a soft voice whispered.

It was a voice Bucky recognised instantly. Having spoke in it so many times before.

Slowly he turnt around, the sun setting over the horizon and there stood you, figure barely able to be seen.

Before I come undone

“(Y/N)...”

Save me from the nothing I've become

“Bucky...” you smiled softly.

Bring me to life

Bucky felt his heart breaking. He’d grown so close to you, he’s grown to love you.

“How...?”

“I died that night.” You whispered, “three years ago an earthquake hit. No one knew about it, absolutely no one.”

Bring me to life

“You died...”

You nodded your head and took a step closer so you were toe to toe with him.

Frozen inside, without your touch

Bucky could feel the coldness radiating from your ghostly form. He tried to reach out but his arm went through you, cold over taking it until he pulled back.

“Why an I see you...?”

“It’s called twilight. A moment everyday in which the boundaries of two words collide. It’ll be over soon.”

Without your love, darling

“It.. it can’t be!” He rushed, “I... love you...” his voice cracked.

Only you are my life

You smiled softly, raising a hand to his face before letting it trail down to the necklace on his neck.

“You kept it.” You laughed softly.

Bucky furrowed his brows, eyes turning down to look at the necklace. Then it clicked.

Three years ago.

Among the dead

You came to see him before you died.

I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems

The golden rays of sunlight started to fade, and you smiled sadly.

“It’s nearly over.”

Both of you stood there watching the sun setting, and just as the final rays hit the earth you spoke again.

“I love you too Bucky.”

Got to open my eyes to everything

Buckys eyes shot open, he spun around to you but you were gone. He stared there for minutes.

“Why am I here?” He asked.

He looked around but nothing came to mind, so with a small shrug he headed back to the bus stop.

You trailed after Bucky, he may not be able to see you, but you wanted to stay with him.

Don't let me die here

You would try to talk to him, but he’d never hear you. It had been weeks since that day but you never forgot, he did. Until tonight.

“Bucky..” you whispered, “Bucky...”

Your soft voice reached his ears, but he couldn’t place it, or where it was coming from. He simply went to bed.

“Goodnight Bucky.” You sighed.

“Goodnight (Y/N)...” he grumbled half asleep.

Bring, me, to, life

Buckys eyes opened, but he wasn’t in his room.

It was yours.

And he remembered, tonight was the night you died.

‘Save me Bucky... please...’ your voice radiated in his head.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled.

Wake me up inside

All day he planned to save you, every single minute was carefully planned.

Wake me up inside

He wasn’t going to just save you, he was going to save everyone.

Call my name and save me from the dark

As he ran, the day early ending his mind went blank again.

‘What’s your name?’ He thought, ‘what’s your name?!

Bid my blood to run

Before I come undone

Your eyes slipped open, the morning light hitting your face as you looked around. Everyone was crowed up the hill, the town below you in shambles.

But you could remember anything.

Save me from the nothing I've become

You moved to New York and everything seemed like a memory. A nameless face in the back of your mind.

A name that never came to mind.

Something you couldn’t find.

Bring me to life

It’s like you were chasing something you knew you need but didn’t remember.

Bring me to life

As you walked down the quiet street you felt it, the small pull that made you stop alongside a man who also stopped.

The pair of you slowly turnt to face each other.

“Do I know you?” He asked.

Bucky looked you up and down, why did he feel pulled towards you? Why did he feel like he knew you from somewhere?

What was your name?

“Perhaps you do.” You mused, “you do look like someone I know. But I can’t remember a name.”

“What’s your name?” He asked, “I’m Bucky Barnes.”

Bring me to life

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

[girl-next-door-writes]

A Little Help From My Friends

Characters: Sam Winchester x reader, Jack, Crowley.

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy case, a ghost in a museum, but since when was life ever that easy?  

Word Count: 3364 words

Prompt: Hocus Pocus and Friends On The Other Side.

A/N: This is my entry for the amazing @sdavid09​ and her brilliant Halloween challenge!  I know it’s a little late but HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

“You have got to be kidding me,” you sighed, looking at the ramshackle building.  This case had to be a hoax, which was probably why Dean had sent Jack, with you and Sam as babysitters.  “A museum, Dean said.  A ghost in a museum.”

“Well, this is Salem.  There was bound to be a ‘witch’ element somewhere,” shrugged Sam, watching Jack trying to climb over the wall.  

“Yeah, but a creepy cottage in the middle of a wooded area doesn’t feel like a museum. This feels…”

“…creepy?” Sam looked at you with amusement.  “After the stuff we’ve seen you’re creeped out about an old cottage?”

“An old cottage, in the dark, on Halloween, in Salem.  Yeah. I’d say that’s sufficient to give you the creep factor.” You hummed as you pushed open the gate and walked in, ignoring the soft thud of Jack falling into a shrubbery after successfully scaling the wall.  

“Wow. You guys got here quick.” Jack grinned. He reminded you of an excited puppy, eager to prove himself.  In all honesty, you suspected this was a non-event, but if it made him feel part of the team then you would go into the creepy cottage on Halloween night.

The moonlight filtered through the tree branches and despite the modern signage that declared this landmark had been desecrated for profit, the structure kept its sense of foreboding that you assumed it had always had.  The weight of the many atrocities performed here hung heavy and a shiver ran down your spine as you stared down the building.  The leaden lined panes of glass, each a different shape, warped by time, seemed to glare back at you.  The roses that grew around the doorframe promising sweetness and beauty reminded you deep down of gingerbread houses and you could see why this had been declared a ‘witches’ house, even if the poor spinster sisters who originally lived there had been nothing more than midwives and healers.  

Sam expertly picked the lock and the door creaked open, revealing a silky blackness that seemed altogether too thick to be natural.  Blinking on his flashlight, Jack boldly entered the cottage, undeterred by the eerie feeling or perhaps not even noticing it.  Sam stooped to make his way through the small door and you would have chuckled at the sight, but something about all this just didn’t feel right.  Switching on your own flashlight, you followed the boys, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through you.

The air smelled musty and you slowly ran your beam of light over the walls, searching for a light switch as Jack excitedly looked around the exhibits.  Glints of metal, reflections off glass, odd angles and strange shadows all set your teeth on edge, causing you to jump when you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder.  

“Easy there.” Sam chuckled softly, his warm breath against your cheek made your heart race for completely different reasons.  

“Sorry. This place is just… you know?” you spoke in a hushed tone, not wanting to break the quiet in case you disturbed something you’d rather stayed asleep.

“It’s just a museum,” he assured you, giving you a soft smile that you couldn’t help reciprocating.  It would have been a nice moment, had not all three of your flashlights flickered into darkness.  

“Shit.” You smacked the plastic against your hand, hoping that it was just a coincidence. The room had grown noticeably cold and your eyes scanned the darkness.  

“Oh, there’s a candle over here.” Jack called and before you could register his words you saw the flame of a lighter.  Sam moved quickly to stop him, forgetting that this building wasn’t exactly build for giant’s proportions.  Banging his head on a low beam, he winced and by the time the room had stopped spinning the candle was lit and the whole room illuminated.  

“I don’t think you should have done that, Jack.” You say cautiously.  The light emanating from the single black candle with intricate carvings was far too bright to be natural.  

“Hang on, there’s a plaque.” Jack moved the candle as you arrived beside him.  “Oh.” The short word hung in the air as you read what he had.  

The black flame candle:  This is the legendary candle which is said to hold the power to resurrect the infamous Sanderson sisters.  If the black flame candle is lit on All Hallows Eve by a virgin then it is said the final ritual performed by the sisters will be complete and they will once more walk the earth.  

“Shit.” You sighed, looking at the candle and noticing the flame there was indeed black.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think…” Jack trailed off, looking so beside himself that you couldn’t help but immediately forgive him for his mistake.  

“You didn’t do it on purpose, it’s fine.  It’s probably just some old urban myth.  The women who lived here probably weren’t even witches.” You gave him a reassuring smile, which dropped as the door of the cottage swung open and revealed three women who you hoped just really paid attention to period costume detail.

“Sisters, we have returned.” The redhead announced, clearly marking her out as the eldest sister and possibly the most dangerous.  Instinctively, you moved in front of Jack, a move which didn’t go unnoticed by the women who had just entered.  “And what is this?  Who do we have to thank for bringing us back?” Her eyes seemed to search right through you and a smile tugged at her lips.  “Not this one.” Her gaze left you and landed on Jack, “Ah, you.”

“I would have liked this one.  He has such beautiful hair.” Your attention diverted from the redhead to a skinny blonde who was eyeing Sam as if he were her next meal.   “So pretty.  Come with me and I will thank thee for bringing us back,” she simpered.  

“Get away from him,” you growled, missing the look of curious surprise Sam shot your way.  

“Oh, you wish to claim him?  Well, you can’t have them both, that’s just not fair.” The blonde pouted, placing herself between you and Sam.  You were aware of the brunette making her way around in the shadows, trying to get to Jack. It was as if they were stalking you, trying to separate you.  

“You think we brought you back unprepared?” You asked, voice filled with false bravado. “I call upon the elements and bring down the rain of death.” You cried, grabbing the candle from Jack and raising it up allowing the plumes of smoke to directly hit the smoke alarm.  

There was a moment of silence where you prayed this would work and the three sisters looked at you curiously.  Then an alarm sounded, and the sprinkler system kicked in.  Tossing the candle aside, not caring if it burnt the entire place down, you grabbed Jacks hand and headed for the door.  

Sam smiled to himself as your plan worked.  He moved to follow, and his eye was caught by a glass case which held a spell book. Grabbing a candelabra, he smashed the glass and grabbed the book, ducking through the doorway as the witches screamed, trying to shelter from the water they believed was toxic.  

You ran. The uneven ground beneath your feet causing you to stumble occasionally as you pushed through branches, your lungs felt like they were on fire as the chill of the night air hit them hard. You were aware of Sam and Jack somewhere in front of you, the benefit of having longer legs, and it wasn’t until you spotted the crumbling wall of the cemetery that you realised how far you had run.

You were all panting as wordlessly, Sam indicated for you to enter a crypt. Hiding would buy you a little time and hopefully you could form a plan.  As you collapsed onto the floor, leaning back against a plinth, you noticed Sam was carrying an ancient looking book.  “Is that- is that what I think it is?” You panted, earning a nod of confirmation from the handsome Winchester.  

The three of you sat there in silence for a few moments, trying to gather your thoughts. Jack looked like a child waiting outside the principal’s office, expecting the disappointment from his parental figures to hit him at any moment.  Sam was busy pondering what to do, running through the limited information you had and trying to get a wifi signal on his phone.  You shuffled over to Jack and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  “Did I ever tell you the time I accidentally summoned a demon and Sam had to rescue me? Or the time Sam got himself caught by a crazy witch and me and Dean had to convince him not to marry her?  Oh, then there was the time Dean…”

“I know what you’re doing.” Jack said softly, looking at you with a hint of appreciation.

“And what is it you think I’m doing?”

“You’re letting me know that everyone makes mistakes and that it’s okay, but that doesn’t make this any less my fault.” He sighed, looking over at Sam and wondering what Dean and Cas would say when they found out.  “If you or Sam had lit the candle, not that either of you would, then things would be different.”

“True, but this hunt just went from a boring suspected ghost to a genuinely interesting and exciting saving the world from three old witches.  On Halloween!  This is definitely going in the journal.” You grinned, glancing over at Sam who looked a little concerned.  

“There’s not a lot about them.  Mostly general ‘hocus pocus’ and rumours.  Other than lighting the candle there’s no detail.” He sighed.

“Okay, so we need someone who might have better resources at hand.” You shrugged, getting to your feet and pulling out your phone.

“You’re calling Dean?” Jack asked in panic.

“No, kid. I’m calling my ‘phone a friend’.”

“Crowley?” Sam asked, his voice low with the hint of a growl.  He hated that you and the demon were close, he didn’t trust him not to screw you over but before he could object you had already dialed.

“Hi, honey, got a bit of a problem here that I’m hoping you could help me out with?”  You explained the situation and a smile began to appear on your lips that made Sam’s jaw tense.  The King of Hell obviously had a solution and Sam couldn’t help but feel a little… jealous.  He wanted to be the one to solve the problem, the one to keep you safe, the one to make you smile like this.

“Amazing. Thank you.  Yeah, we’ll catch up soon.” You hung up your call and grinned at the boys.  “Okay, so the magic only works for one night. When the sun rises, they turn to dust, poof. The loophole is a potion they could brew to steal the life of a child and then they become immortal, but they need the book for that, and we’ve got the book.”  Your eyes were bright as they met Sam’s and he felt a sense of pride at being the one to have grabbed the book.  “If we can sit it out, this’ll be over in a few hours.”

“And by a few hours you mean seven.” Sam frowned, looking at his phone as he checked what time the sunrise was.  

“Okay, seven hours.  We can hold onto a book for seven hours, right?  Go team!” You tried to keep spirits up, but you knew Sam was worried about the damage that could be done by three resurrected witches, left unchecked, in seven hours.

It was agreed between the three of you that you would take it in shifts to keep watch while the other two rested.  It was going to be a long night and you needed to stay off the radar.  Jack took himself off to a corner of the crypt, struggling with his guilt and trying to find a way to make amends.  You had shuffled up next to Sam, your jacket pulled over you as a makeshift blanket.

As you drifted a little, your head rested heavy on his shoulder and he looked down at you with a soft smile.  He liked being the one you leaned on, although he suspected he got that privilege because he made you feel small and safe.  His hand found your own beneath the jacket and he gently laced his fingers through yours.  It was moments like this, amongst the crazy that was your lives, that he wanted to find a way to tell you just how much you meant to him.  You were everything to Sam Winchester, he just didn’t know where to start when it came to confessing this.  Placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he smiled to himself.  “This is not how I saw our night going, but I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” He whispered, resting his head on yours and closing his eyes for just a moment.

Jack was growing restless, he wanted to fix this, not just wait it out.  He needed to prove himself.  The best way to fight magic was with magic, right?  If that book held the secret to making them immortal, then surely it would hold something about how to destroy them. Looking over at the two of you, he carefully reached for the book, pulling it to him in the shadows.  Slowly, he opened the heavy cover and began to flick through the pages, scanning each one.  

What Jack couldn’t possibly have known was that the sisters had been scouring the town for their book and had been on the verge of giving up when a bright flare of light shot through the sky.  A homing beacon.  A signal from the book alerting them to the crypt.  Victory was in their grasp.

The ground began to shake, rousing you from your sleepy state.  “What the..?”

“The book.” Sam gasped, wide-eyed, stumbling to his feet just as a skeletal arm broke through the side of a tomb.  Grabbing the book from Jack, he slammed it closed and frantically looked around for a means of escape.  

“Quick, through here.” You called, leading them both through a crumbling wall and into the sewer.  

The maniacal laughter of the three women rang through the air, mingling with the soft splashing sound as you ran through… well, you’d rather not think about what you were running through right now.  Sam had taken the lead, the book held tight against his chest, and you had instinctively taken the rear, making sure Jack would be safe.  

The walls shook around you, echoes of the threats made by the witches bounced back and forth, leaving you unsure how close they truly were.  It was only when Sam pulled up sharp that fear truly gripped you.  

“Dead end, I knew I should have taken that left.” He muttered.  You were about to assure him that you still had time when you were grabbed from behind.  Lifted off your feet, your back slammed into the wall and you cringed as you heard the crack of your phone, which was in your back pocket.  

The redhead witch glared at you, her hand coming up to rest around your throat. You were vaguely aware of your pocket vibrating but your attention was mostly taken by the growing need to breath. Glancing to the side you saw Sam and Jack pinned against the wall, Sam fighting with everything he had.  It looked like it was all over when the brunette reached out and took the book from Sam’s arms.  

“Victory is ours.” Grinned the redhead, expecting some form of anguish from you, but instead a deep roll of delight fell from your lips.  Your sudden burst of laughter unnerved her for a moment, and it was long enough for you to say, “But what you haven’t counted on, is that we have friends on the other side.” You grinned, your eyes falling on a familiar figure as he sauntered into view, glass of whiskey in his hand. The grip on your throat slackened and you slipped from her hands.

“Hello, darling.  You called?” Crowley smirked, his eyes running over you to check that you were unharmed.  If these creatures had so much as harmed one hair on your head, he would unleash the full might of hell upon them.

“The ‘other side’?” The eldest sister scoffed, looking at Crowley with undisguised scorn.  “You imagine this minion holds enough power to hold us back?  

Crowley looked the redhead up and down with a sneer.  “And who, exactly, do you think you are talking to?  You dare to disrespect me?  I’m the bloody King of Hell, woman.  You’re in my world now, not your world, things have changed in the last couple of hundred years and you’d be wise to recognise that.” Crowley’s eyes flashed red and there seemed to be a breeze picking up in the room.

“Parlour tricks won’t scare me, demon.” There was a slight waver in her voice now as she tried to figure out if he was lying to her.  Surely this demon couldn’t have risen so far up the ranks as to be King?

“Parlour tricks?” Crowley snarled, turning to face her and her sisters.  “Your little resurrection was a parlour trick compared to what I can do, and I don’t need a sodding book.” The sisters sensed his power and began to back away.  “There are two ways we can do this, I can keep you somewhere until sunrise, or I can end you now. Permanently.”

“Please, sire, there must be something we can offer you.” The blonde simpered, attempting to flirt with the demon.  

“It’s not my call. I’m leaving the decision up to her.” He gestured over his shoulder at you and the blonde’s eyes widened, she could see you were unimpressed by her tactics.  “Well, kitten?  Now or later?”

Sam frowned, part of him wanted you to say ‘now’ and get it over with, that would mean you seeing Crowley for exactly what he was and he hoped, rather selfishly, that would take the shine off this friendship the two of you shared.  

“Lock them up, let their spell run its course but make sure everyone is kept safe from them in the meantime.” Your voice rang out clear, bouncing off the concave walls of the sewer.  

“A King that takes orders?” The redhead smirked, trying to gain the upper hand.

“Not orders, love, just the friendly suggestion from someone he trusts.” Crowley nodded at you and snapped his fingers, the three sisters disappearing.  “Right, you need anything else or are we square?”

“For now.” You returned his smile.  “Thanks, Crowley.”

“Anytime kitten.” And with a flourish of his hand, the King of Hell disappeared.

“Kitten?” Jack asked, looking at you in mild confusion.

“It’s a term of endearment, you know?  Like how he calls Dean squirrel and Sam moose.” You explained, already heading back the way you’d come, looking for a way out.

“Oh, like the way you call Sam ‘gorgeous’, or ‘honey’, or ‘baby’?” Jack grinned in understanding as he fell into step behind you.

“Erm, yeah.” You agreed, glad the sewer was rather dark so he couldn’t see the look of embarrassment on your face.  

“Or like when Sam calls you ‘sexy’, and ‘beautiful’ and ‘love of my life’.” Jack continued.  

“Wait, what?” You stopped, spinning round to look at the nephlim.  

“Right, he doesn’t say that to you, just when he’s talking about you to Dean.  Is that still a term of endearment if it’s not to your face?” He asked innocently, but he didn’t receive an answer as you were too busy staring at Sam, who was looking anywhere but at you.

“Hey, look, manhole.  Must be the way out.” Sam said quickly.  He needed to get out of this sewer and out of this conversation, but he had a feeling the first part would be easier than the second.  Something in your eyes told him that this conversation was merely on hold.

#Consume All The Fics:

@musicalmuffindog1410​  @palaiasaurus64​  @sheacrowley​  @luckynumber1213​  @thefridgeismybestie​  @myakai13​   @vintagevalentinex​  @blondecoffeecake​  @wendyneverland​  @salt-n-burn-em-all​  @thewhiterabbit42​

#Supernatural Stars:

@feelmyroarrrr​  @stcrkmorgan​  @alicenwrites​   @awesomesusiebstuff​  @idreamofplaid​  @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester​  @calaofnoldor​  @princessmisery666​

[supernaturallymarvellous]

Superstition (Part 1): Writings on the Wall

Summary: Peter Parker wants to make this year’s Halloween one to remember.  If he can convince Y/N to let him and Ned take a trip to Salem, then it will all be perfect.  However Peter hadn’t anticipated that Y/N (and her boyfriend Bucky) aren’t as easy to manipulate as he thinks.  And if he thought that he and Ned were the only ones going to have fun, then he was wrong!

Author: @supernaturallymarvellous

Characters: Bucky x Reader, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds

Word Count: 1032

Warnings: None

A/N: @sdavid09 is running a Halloween challenge (details here – there’s still time to enter).  I chose Hocus Pocus and Superstition as my prompts.  This is going to be a mini series so I hope you enjoy and follow along on this little spooky adventure.

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“You’re not going to Salem on Halloween.  May would never forgive me if I let you take an eight hour round trip to Massachusetts without any adult supervision!”

Peter stood before Y/N, his face a picture of righteous indignation.  His plans for All Hallows Eve were crumbling before his very eyes thanks to Y/N’s stringent following of rules.  Running through his quickly diminishing options, Peter decided to appeal to Y/N’s good nature.  

“You and Mr Barnes could come with us.  Surely we’d be perfectly safe if the two of you were there.  And it’s not like Salem is actually haunted.  Those are just stories made up to scare little kids.”

Y/N simply stared at the two teenagers gathered around her desk.  Peter and Ned had barrelled into the room, their excitement levels at an all time high thanks to the combination of far too much candy and a potential road trip.  She looked up from the computer, rubbing her tired eyes before she addressed them.

“Look, I know you guys think I’m being a killjoy and that I’m ruining your fun but I can’t just leave New York because you two want to scare yourselves stupid. Bucky and I are still technically on duty while the rest of the team are away.  Now please….just go play a video game or something.  And stay out of trouble!”

Peter looked completely crestfallen.  All he’d wanted from this year’s spookiest evening was a trip with his friend to what was supposedly one of the most haunted places on earth.  As he started to follow Ned out of the room, an idea suddenly began to take shape.  Whispering to Ned to follow his lead, Peter spun on his heels and walked back towards Y/N.

“It’s ok.  You can just admit that you’re scared.  We won’t tell anyone that one of the world’s mightiest heroes is scared of a few ghosts. I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time here watching scary movies and frightening small children with our costumes.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  Did they honestly think she was stupid enough to fall for such a ridiculous attempt at goading?!  Well she thought, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.  That’s how the old saying went.  She quickly fired off an email alerting Steve to the fact that she and Bucky would be leaving the city shortly, and then pushed herself up from her seat.

“Ok. You want a trip to Salem?  Go get ready, we leave in half an hour.  Meet us in the garage.  Oh and I obviously don’t need to tell you this but when we get there, please don’t antagonise the spirits of the Sanderson sisters.  I don’t have the energy to deal with the ghosts of three pissed off ancient crones!”

She walked out of her office, careful to keep the smirk off his face until she was well out of sight.  She moved quickly to the room she shared with Bucky – she had a plan to pull together and not a lot of time in which to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost 45 minutes before they were ready to leave and as Peter grabbed a few last minute road trip essentials from the kitchen cupboards, Ned sat staring at his phone.  

“Dude, have you heard of those Sanderson sisters?  They were awful.  Listen to this.  “Winifred, Mary and Sarah were hung after they killed a little girl to try and regain their youth.”  He continued to scroll through the information he’d found on the internet.  “Woah….they actually died 300 years ago to the day!”

Peter scoffed.  “That’s ridiculous Ned.  Witches don’t really exists and even if they did, they died three centuries ago.  I don’t think a few dusty old skeletons are gonna cause us any trouble. Now, you ready to hit the road?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patience was exactly something that Y/N was known for, but in this case she was prepared to let Peter and Ned’s lateness slide.  After all, it had given her more time to brief Bucky and to add a few final flourishes to her plan.  Given her skill set, it had been easy to set up a fake website detailing the elaborate misdeeds of the witches she had just made up.  She’d even had enough time to make a few calls to a handful of friends she knew would be more than willing to help her scare the boys senseless.  

She and Bucky were sat in the car discussing the best route to take.  Their conversation was cut short as the car’s back doors were yanked open and the two young men threw themselves heavily onto the seats.  They both seemed panicked and out of breath.  Bucky and Y/N turned in their seats to take a better look at the scene unfolding itself behind them.

Ned offered up an explanation as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.  “We ran…..down the stairs….blood…..writing on the wall….in the elevator…..Winifred Sanderson.”

Y/N could help herself and started to laugh.  “You can’t be serious.  You think that the ghost of a long dead witch had left a message, written in blood, in the elevator?!  Come on then, what did it say?”

Peter, wide eyed and looking decidedly more pale than usual, leant as far forward as his seatbelt would allow.  “Winifred is watching.”

Through giggles, Y/N could barely manage to speak.  “Oh my god!  Did you hear that, Bucky?  Guess we better get moving before a ghoul comes out of the wall to get us!”

Bucky responded by simply starting the car and moving towards the exit.  As he did, he turned on the car stereo, playing the Stevie Wonder CD he’d put in a few moment earlier.  As the opening bars of Superstition began to play, he managed to sneak a glance in the direction of the passenger seat.  Neither Peter nor Ned saw the wink that Bucky shot to his girlfriend. They also didn’t spot the tiny splashes of red paint that were flicked through Bucky’s hair or the droplets under his fingernails.  As he manoeuvred the car through the busy Manhattan streets, he thought to himself that this was going to be a fun evening.

To be continued……….

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Tagging: @sdavid09   @waywardimpalawriter   @helvonasche   @81mysteriouslyme   @caplanbuckybarnes   @chainez-8   @everything-but-the-not-natural   @redlipstickandplaid   @jayankles 

[writingfromkitchenator]

The Mad Dawn

Written for @sdavid09 Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2020 ~ Thank you so much for this amazing opportunity and challenge!  This was awesome fun as someone who has a deep love for horror and felt real good to be able to write something like this!

Happy Halloween everyone!

Inspired by Dawn of the Dead

Inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules

Set several months after the battle of the five armies, Erebor is awoken to bells ringing in Dale, a bleak warning for what comes over the course of the night and into the dawn.

Pairings: Thorin x F!OC (previous), Dain x F!OC (current)

Words: 3,811

Warnings: Zombies, grief, minor talking of blood and fighting (nothing intense or graphic), major character death and reanimation (it is zombies after all), bleak future outlook.

The bells sounded in Dale, ringing through the darkness in the middle of the night.

Feet hurried, left the warmth of their beds, hastily pulled on armour as they scurried to the gates of Erebor.  Fear of the not so distant memory of a dragon clung to the dwarves, murmurs filling the halls as some sat still, holding their breath.

At the gates, a messenger arrived, pale faced and stammering, and it took a few minutes for the words to come from him, the bell continuing to ring.

“The dead,” He croaked.  “The dead are rising.”

The dwarves were confused for a moment until screaming began within their own halls and soldiers threw themselves into action, shaking off the thought of the messenger at the gate, even as he screamed after them.

“They’re rising from the lake!  The dead have returned!”

Orders were given, hurried footsteps marching loudly through the halls before falling silent.

Dain was shouting, but no one was listening, the soldiers all having stopped to stare, another army approaching from the halls of the dead.

“Mahal have mercy on us,” Dain breathed, the glistening dead eyes staring back at him, sending a cold chill up his spine, unlike anything he had felt before.  “Get the Queen!  Get her out of here now!”

Myara was on her feet, pacing the bedroom, the bells still sounding in Dale, a sound signalling doom was upon them.

There was a knock on the door and she hurries to throw it open.

Dwalin stood there, his expression grim.  “We need to go.”

“What? What is happening?”  She asked as Dwalin marched in and started gathering a few small items into a traveling pack.

He swallows, casting her a look, one that drifts down to her swollen stomach.  “I think it’s best if you don’t know my Queen. We need….we need to go.”

She rests a hand on his arm.  “Dwalin…”

Dwalin shakes his head.  “Get dressed Myara.  Please.”

A cold chill settled over her, the hair rising on the back of her neck, and she moves as best she can to throw on travelling clothes and what armour she could, the sword on her belt looking strange against her stomach.

“You know I will defend you with my life,” Dwalin said quietly, an odd note in his voice as he waited by the door.  “As will anyone in Erebor, but I will warn you now…” He swallows.  “This is unlike anything we have faced before.”

Out in the hall, Bofur and Nori waited, both pale and afraid, although doing their best to hide it.

Myara looked between them and then at Dwalin again.  “Please.  Just tell me.”

Dwalin shakes his head and takes her arm, starting to lead her down the hall.  “Trust me, nothing I say will be able to prepare you. Let’s hurry.”

Soon, Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Ori and Oin had joined them.

“Gloin has already got his wife and son out,” Oin explained.  “They’ll meet us there.”

“And Gloin?” Dwalin asked.

Oin’s expression went grim.  “Has gone back to the fighting.”

Myara looked at Dwalin.  “Where is Balin?”

He shakes his head.  “I do not know.”

Their footfalls seemed to fall oddly in the halls, against the backdrop of the ringing bell, the shouts of soldiers, and Myara had a growing feeling she had felt before, long ago, when a dragon had attacked.

A blood curdling scream made them all freeze, all of them arming themselves as they stared into the darkness at the other end of the hall.

Dwalin went forward slowly, cautiously, his axe out in front, trying to see through the dark. His grip was tight, too tight, his hands slipping as sweat built up from the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Myara almost screamed, tears filling her eyes at the sight coming down the hall towards them.

“Thorin…” Dwalin breathed, his axe lowering slightly.  “Thorin please…no…”

Several months of decay had twisted Thorin’s features, the cut that had been sealed was now split and oozing thick black blood, his skin an ashen whitish green. He shuffled towards them, lifeless eyes on Myara.

Myara thought she was going to be sick, her fingers subconsciously finding the bead in her hair, the bead that Thorin had not long put in before the battle of the five armies, seated securely above Dain’s.

“Thorin, don’t-don’t come any closer.  I meant it.” Dwalin’s voice cracked, his feet carrying him slowly back, the others all tense.

It seemed that none of the soldiers had had the heart to fight him.

There is a further shuffling noise behind Thorin, and Fili and Kili join him, a low groaning growl leaving their throats, and Thorin’s hand reaches out for Myara.

“Go,” Dwalin said thickly, turning away from the sight.  “Go!”

Several hands forced her to move, hurrying her in the other direction from the horrible sight. Her chest ached, her heart broken again. What had they done to deserve this horror?

“Where is Dain?”  She managed to ask, her voice soft and broken.

“In the front lines,” Dwalin said, casting her a worried look, but still constantly glancing behind them, worried that the shambling corpses of their friends would follow.  “He will try and meet us there.”

“Dwalin-”

“Myara, we all swore to protect you and Thorin’s child,” Dwalin said.  “Swore with our lives, no matter what would come. Dain is doing this protect you.”

She hangs her head and focuses on moving, doing her best not to think about how this could turn out, about she could lose all those that she loved.  It was to ignore the grief of what she’d seen, but she knew if she was to survive, she would have to.

Winding passage after winding passage passed them in a blur and Myara looked over the edge of one of the many bridges in Erebor, normally lit in golden light. Fire burned below, illuminating the soldiers fighting off the dead that seemed to fill the halls endlessly, many in varying states of decay, but the freshest were those from that horrible battle, weapons still in hands as if it had been sealed around them in death, and she knew the soldiers were grieving once again.  She caught a flicker of red hair, of a mighty shout, but it quickly disappeared in the ocean of bodies beneath her and she was hurried into another hall before she could call Dain’s name.

The bells of Dale went silent.

They hurried past another hall and a loud screech caused them to freeze, several corpses shambling towards them, some of them old and some of them very fresh, bleeding wounds still fresh under their armour.  This lot was moving quicker, Bombur, Bofur and Bifur all sharing a look and nodding, stepping between the oncoming dead and the rest of the group.

“No-”

“You need to go,” Bofur said, giving a nod to Myara.  “We’ll deal with these and catch up.”

Dwalin takes Myara’s arm again and leads her on, his expression grim.  The sound of fighting followed them for a long few moments before all fell silent once again, their footsteps falling softly through the hall.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, but she keeps herself silent, her grip tight on her sword. Erebor would not fall today, not after everything that it had already been through, not after they had not long got it back, she had to believe that.

A deep rumble echoes through the ground, making the group stop and a fear filled look to pass between several of them.

“It’s not possible,” Dwalin breathed.  “No, I refuse to believe it, not with all this going on as well.”

He marched ahead and the others slowly followed, Myara still keeping her head held high.  All of them grew more anxious the further they went.  Why were the dead rising?  Why were they being haunted like this, after all that they had suffered? Those that they had loved, those that they had already mourned, now seemingly after them and their blood.

Another rumble goes through the halls, dust falling from the ceiling and Myara mourned, as she knew the others were, mourned that they were just getting back their homes, their lives, and now this would change everything again.

There was a kick in her stomach and Myara let out a steadying breath.  She had no choice but to survive.  She had to survive.

They reached the secret entrance just as there was a roar outside.  They had all been there, they all knew that sound.

“Mahal have mercy on us,” Myara breathed.  “This cannot be happening.”

Footsteps sound suddenly behind them, and Dwalin and Nori quickly step in front of Myara, Oin, Dori and Ori stepping in close on the sides.

With a limping shuffle and the shine of blood on his head, Dain stepped into view, his face pale under the blood, an equally injured Bofur was hanging on his shoulder.

“We need to go,” Dain grumbled.  “We need to go now.”

Myara hurried to his side and helped him, while Nori took Bofur, a pained grin on his face.

“You should just leave me here.”  He said grimly.  “I’m pretty sure I’m gone for.”

“Not a chance,” Nori said firmly.  “I think we’re going to lose enough today as it, without you staying here.”

Bofur laughs grimly, but it quickly silenced by the pain, holding onto the worst of the wounds as best he could.

“What is happening?”  Myara asked, trying to see the extent of Dain’s wounds.  “I saw…I saw…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, the ache in her chest too much, but by Dain’s grim expression, he understood.

“I saw him too,” Dain said quietly, taking her hands and kissing them gently, his own expression pained.  “But we cannot dwell on it.  There is nothing that we can do for them.”

Screeching and growls come from down the hall.  As quickly as they could, they hurried out the door and swung it closed behind them.

Outside, Myara stared out towards Dale, her breathe stolen as she saw fires burning once again, but her attention was only held briefly as an all too familiar roar cut through the air, earning all of their gazes.

A large dark form was in the sky, coming from where Lake Town was still being rebuilt. All of them standing there knew what the form was, and they all watched helplessly as it headed towards the burning city.

“This isn’t happening,” Ori said quietly, voicing what they were all thinking.  “Smaug was dead, we all saw him fall.”

“We saw a lot of those we’ve seen fall,” Dain said grimly.  “It seems that the gods have abandoned us tonight.”

A green light filled Smaug’s chest and even from where they stood they could make out the rotting dark red scales, the black arrow still embedded deeply into Smaug’s chest.  The fire erupted from his chest, illuminating the sky in a vivid green glow.

Dain’s hand rests on Myara’s lower back.  “Do you think you can get down alright?”

Myara’s jaw clenches and she nods, Ori and Dori leading the way so she can follow, Dwalin and Dain close behind, Oin and Nori taking up the rear, helping Bofur as best they could.

“Where is Tula and Gimli?”  Oin asked, huffing a little.  “They should have been here.”

“Tula is no fool,” Dain said.  “She knew that they could not have waited long.  Hopefully we find them later.”

The night felt so cold as they reached the ground, Myara’s arms wrapping around herself as they waited for the others to get down.  There were screams in the distance, and her gaze turned towards the gates of Erebor, the fires still burning brightly, enough to illuminate the figures struggling there.  A wave of nausea struck her, and she managed to just get a little further away before she was sick, the stress all a little too much.

Dain was there in a flash, his hands rubbing her back gently until the vomiting eases, and she breathes deeply, getting herself back in control.  “Easy love, take it slow.  You are going to need all the strength you can muster to get through this.”

Myara nods, barely listening, feeling a ringing starting in her ears.  Whatever had caused these events was nothing normal. Whatever had called Thorin back, had brought Smaug back, it seemed to be against her people.

There was more screaming and she looked back up towards Dale.  “Is…is there nothing we can do?”

“We could not even hold them at bay ourselves,” Dain said, helping her straighten out.  “I stayed as long as I could before we were overrun.  I was not proud in calling a retreat.”

Myara rests a gentle hand on his arm, earning his gaze where he was hiding his pain.  “This is beyond any of us Dain.  We will get away and find help.  We can-”

There was a shout and they turned, seeing Bofur practically falling on top of Nori, pulling away from Oin, but there was a snarl leaving him, one that was cold and empty, almost animalistic.

Dain moved first and shoved Bofur off Nori, Bofur’s body thudding into the stone with a sickening crack and sat there, unmoving, his hat sitting soaked in blood next to his head.

“What-what happened?”  Nori asked, his face almost white, staring at Bofur.  “He…he went limp and then-then-”

“That’s what has been happening,” Dain growled, cautiously approaching Bofur.  “They’ve been dying and then getting back up, sometimes partly eaten.  Not much seems to slow them down, although a sharp knock usually disables them, at least for a time.”

A stunned silence sat around everyone, even as Dain crouched next to Bofur, gently prodding him, his expression pained.  Slowly, he sighs, and gets back to his feet, shaking his head, earning more than a few grief stricken expressions, Dwalin cursing silently under his breath.

“Tonight has been a tragic night,” Dain said.  “We need to get moving now, before it gets any worse.”

“But Bofur…”  Nori said, his face still pale.

“There isn’t anything we can do now,” Dain shakes his head and re-joins Myara.  “We must move on before they realise that some of us have gotten out.”

Myara sniffs and shudders, her mind almost numb now to what was happening, but she couldn’t rid herself of a bad feeling that had been growing her since she’d seen Thorin earlier.  Dain’s hand rests gently on her and she nods, starting to lead them all away from the distance screams and the sickening roar of the dead dragon.

“How will others get out?”  Ori asked quietly as they walked.  “There has to be something else that we can do.”

“There are many paths through Erebor,” Dain said.  “And as much as it pains me to say it, they will have little choice but to try them.  The hoard that we were facing was nothing to be taken lightly.  It may just be the end of the world as we know it.”

A chill goes up Myara’s spine and she finds herself stopping dead in her tracks, Dain almost running straight into her, his hands resting on her for a moment before he sees what she’d stopped to stare at.  Quickly, he moves in front of her, the others reacting accordingly, all pretending they couldn’t see the shake of the sword in her hand.

“Thorin…” She breathed, her voice barely audible even in the silence that suddenly seemed to surround them.

“You will go no further,” Dain said loudly, even as more figures begin to step out beside Thorin.  “This is not your world anymore.  You will return to where you came from.”

Dawn was approaching, the light starting to peak over the horizon, illuminating the walking corpses more and more.  Myara stared with wide eyes as Thorin starts to approach, unaffected by Dain’s words, and it was only now that they could see the Arkenstone still clutched tightly in one hand, but it was no longer rich and vibrant, reminding her of starlight, now it was blood red and dark, but still unmistakable.

“I will give you one last warning,” Dain’s voice went low, into almost a growl.  “Whatever creature you are, you will leave and you will not return, releasing all those you have under your spell.”

A low snarl in the air and it took them all a moment before they realised that it was coming from Thorin, or what had once been Thorin, because none of them could be certain that they could even call him that anymore.

“My…ara…”

Myara’s breath caught in her throat and the tears started again, shaking her head, not wanting to face the reality of this, her chest aching so much.  If it wasn’t for Dain’s protective hand on her, then she knew she’d be running, and she knew that she wouldn’t stand a chance, not against Thorin, or whatever this things now was.

“Dwalin,” Dain’s voice was quiet, firm.  “I want you to take Myara and I want you to get as far from here as you can.  Do not stop until you can find somewhere safe, or someone that can help.”

“Dain, you can’t-”

He glances back at her, his expression set.  “I am sorry love, I know that you deserve more than this, but for you survive, for our people to have a chance, this must be done.  Oin, go with them.”

“I can’t lose you too,” Myara said.  “I can’t…I can’t see you like this too.”

“Dwalin,” Dain’s gaze left her.  “Please. Your duty is to your king, and this is your kings final order.”

Dwalin swallowed and nods slowly, stepping in beside Myara, even as she stares at Dain with tears in her eyes.  “What…what about the others?”

“It is their choice,” Dain said grimly, holding Thorin’s cold, dead gaze.  “It is an honour to have fought by all of you.”

Dwalin looked around at the few others left as Oin stood by Myara’s other side.  Dori, Nori and Ori all nodded grimly to him and moved and stood next to Dain.  With a final glance back at the growing number of dead, they could now make out a few more faces, Fili and Kili, Balin and Gloin, and many other soldiers and citizens, that they had laughed with, spoke with, and they knew that there wasn’t a choice left.

“It has been an honour my King,” Dwalin said, taking Myara’s hand.  “I will do all that I can.”

Dain nods, his grip tight on his weapon as the horde slowly approaches.  “My Queen…I’m sorry that we didn’t get more time.”

Myara felt herself go back to end of the battle of the five armies, of having too much to say and too little time to say it, of suddenly feeling like the world was being pulled out from under her feet again, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that built up from her chest.

“It’s not fair,” She whispered.  “It’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not love,” Dain said.  “But you need to go.”

Dwalin and Oin start to pull her gently away, the weight of the situation sitting heavily on their shoulders.

“I love you…” Myara managed to get out, her voice broken, tears rolling down her cheeks as her hands rest over her stomach.

There was no chance to say anything else, the four dwarfs standing alone against the approaching dead, even as Thorin’s gaze follows Myara as Dwalin leads her away.

Myara can’t watch anymore, turning away, her eyes blurred with tears, letting herself be led by Dwalin and Oin, know she would go back if they so much as let her go or got her to focus.  Dwalin and Oin remained silent, both in their own grief, and knowing that the sudden task before them, was going to be even harder than the one they had not long come from.

Eventually, as the morning light spilled over the land, the sun just beginning to peak, the three of them stopped and looked back from their position on a ridge. Dale and Erebor were burning, the distant figure of Smaug crawling its way to the gates of Erebor.

The worst though, the worst was the horde, they could all see it clearly from where they were, a large group of dead, men and dwarves alike, all together, all moving slowly, and the three of them on top of that ridge could not bear to look too long, just in case there was another face they recognised.

Myara sighs and pulls her hood over her head, not wanting the see the world any longer as she stares at her swollen stomach and wonders just what will happen to them now, of how she was meant to raise a child in a world like this.  She didn’t want to face the fact that she was going to have to start again, she felt like she’d started again too many times, and now this time, it was almost alone, only the two others by her side and whoever ever they could possibly find in this mad new world.

Dwalin rests a hand on her lower back, earning her gaze, and she can see the grief and despair matched in his gaze, can see the same questions burning away in his mind, but he just nods, his expression stony, one she returned.

There would be time to grieve later, time to speak and try and answer those questions, but for now, again, they had to move, had to find safety, maybe a friend. There was no time to focus on those big questions, or the self-despair that sat in the backs of all their minds.

“Hopefully we can find Tula and Gimli,” Oin said, but there was little hope in his voice. “Hopefully they came this way.”

“Just keep your weapon close,” Dwalin said, shouldering his axe.  “We do not know what the paths ahead will be like.  Let’s just start by getting as far away from here as possible.”

Oin nods, casting a glance at Myara, his expression turning worried, seeing her head down, her face hidden beneath her hood, hiding herself from the world as much as the world was hidden from her.  Dwalin just shakes his head slightly and the two men share an understanding look before helping her away this place.

Silence followed them, no birds singing in the dawn, no beasts stirring from slumber, no voices starting as they start the day.  In that silence, it’s just the three of them leaving their world behind, Myara’s hand tightly wrapping around the two beads in her hair, a soft sob leaving her, a sob that seemed to echo through the ages and be the voice of the times to come.

[sarahundomiel]

So this happened…

Written as a response to @sdavid09 for her Halloween challenge, this was totally an excuse to play around with a random cracktastic My Hero Academia head-canon I have that the teacher’s dorm is basically a menagerie of pets. However it also ended up being a super sweet funny little story, and I’m rather pleased with it. (Note: Even though it was written for a Halloween challenge it’s not necessarily a Halloween story.)

A sick Present Mic should not be allowed to babysit or parent.

[i-am-still-bb]

Call the Doctor

As soon as the final bell rings Fili has his backpack swinging from one hand and his jacket dangling from the other. The Elementary school had let out thirty-five minutes earlier, which meant that Kili would already be home from school and waiting for Fili. He probably has a bit of toast and a cup of hot apple cider.

Written for @sdavid09​‘s Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2020 Challenge - Song: Witch Doctor - Movie: Sweeney Todd

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2217 Additional Tags: Halloween, Fluff, Kid Fic

[specialagentsnark]

The Thain’s Messenger

For @sdavid09 Can also be found on AO3 here

Inspired by: Kiki’s Delivery Service and Frank Sinatra’s “Witchcraft”

Summary:  Bilba Baggins, one of the remaining Thain's Messengers left in the Shire, is sent to Erebor on a diplomatic mission. On her way there, she saves Frerin's life and alters her own.

Prologue

Bilba Baggins stood before her grandfather and accepted the sealed message he passed across to her. “You are to remain until the treaty is finalized,” he ordered. “You have leave to act in my stead.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing and tucking the message into the leather satchel at her side before leaving his office. She had a long journey ahead of her. Excitement tingled down her spine as she left the royal palace. She grabbed her broom, mounted it, and kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky with practiced ease.

As a member of the royal Took family, Bilba had the option to live in the palace with her numerous cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Her relative distance from the direct line for the throne (she had several cousins in line before her) granted her the freedom to keep her own home, as it had her mother before her. She preferred it that way, with no one scrutinizing her every move.

It took a few hours to return to her own smial in Hobbiton. She landed behind her front gate and went inside, leaning her broom against the wall behind her bright green door. A small symbol etched into it glowed faintly, indicating to all who knew the language, that the Witch was in.

“Smaug!” Bilba called as she went straight to her room. “Smaug! Come on, where are you?”

A grumble sounded from beneath her blankets. “Whatever it is, it can wait until the sun is fully up,” a voice rumbled.

Bilba snatched the blankets from her bed. “Wake up, lazy lizard,” she ordered. “The sun’s been up for hours. We need to get going.”

“Go?” Smaug asked and stretched his body to its full length, all two and a half feet from snout to tail tip. He shook out his wings and blinked up at Bilba with golden eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Erebor,” Bilba said as she grabbed her pack. She flipped it open to check its contents, scanning for her uniforms, camping gear, hunting gear, and the documents that would allow her entry to almost anywhere as one of Shire’s Thain's Messengers. The documents had seen little use over the years, maybe only a handful of times and only in kingdoms that bordered Shire. Her message errand to Erebor was the longest any hobbit would have taken in more than a century. The previous record was held by her mother, all the way to Rivendell, but that was long ago, well before the Fell Winter.

“Finally,” Smaug hissed as he leaped off the bed. “We’re leaving this boring little place.”

“I like it here,” Bilba said for what felt like the millionth time. “But I guess an adventure won’t hurt us.” She closed her pack and headed to her kitchen to grab enough food to last her for the roughly week-long flight, barring any bad weather. She could always land somewhere and set up some snares and forage for food if she ran short.

Once she’d finished packing, she went outside, grabbing her broom on her way. She closed the bright green door behind her and locked it. Smaug swarmed up her leg, leaping from her hip to her shoulder and momentarily spreading his wings to steady himself. He draped himself around her neck and waited for her to mount her broom. Once Bilba was settled, she took a moment to center herself. She breathed deeply, pulling energy around her. Winds started to circle her, flattening the grass and lifting the loose strands of light brown hair from her face, tugging at her clothes and at the red bow that held the end of her braided hair together. When she felt it ready, she jumped and the winds gave her the extra push she needed to keep herself aloft. She kicked off the great oak growing above her home, little bells her mother had tied to the branches long ago jingling as she soared higher into the sky and angled her broom to point east.

They followed the Great East Road, flying high enough there was a bit of chill in the summer air. Smaug hunkered down, coiling himself around Bilba’s waist and burrowing his head beneath her black and silver waistcoat and grumbling about the cold.

“You’ll be fine,” Bilba told him as she leaned slightly to follow the road’s curve. “We’ll stop in a few hours.”

“Would it kill you to fly a little lower?” Smaug demanded.

“You could always fly yourself,” Bilba said. “You’re capable.”

Smaug ignored her and just burrowed closer to her with a grumble and a hiss. Bilba laughed and continued following the road.

[autolovecraft]

Perhaps he screamed.

Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin!

To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try.

He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was wise in so doing.

As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity.

You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced.

His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made.

The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. An eye for an eye!

Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. Sawyer in their last illnesses.

He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th.

An eye for an eye! He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture.

[aggiemae]

This was written for @sdavid09‘s Tale Teller’s Fright Night Challenge. 

[originalluv]

wake me up

this is for @sdavid09 Tale Teller's Fright Night 2020 Challenge. My movie was Labyrinth and my song was Bring Me To Life by Evanescence. Not spooky or creepy, more up the drama alley :)

warnings - none

rating - k+

words - 2,223

The moonlight cast an eerie light across the dark figure standing there. Cold winds blew through the open window, the curtains billowing around Jareth as he stared blankly down at his kingdom.

How many years had passed, he wasn't sure. Time meant nothing to him anymore, not since the game had played out all those years ago. A sigh escaped his lips as he turned away from the window and sunk onto his throne. His eyes closed and he rubbed his temples, numbness filling his whole body. Maybe it's time to sleep for awhile...

xxxxx

Sarah blinked, mouth agape as she looked around. She had been standing in her apartment one moment and then the next - it can't be! She looked down the hill at the outer wall of the Labyrinth and towards the castle that lay beyond the Goblin City. Her brows puckered as she walked down the hill, her feet slipping on the dirt below.

She moved quickly, stunned and yet, intrigued by the Labyrinth's reappearance. It didn't take her long to reach the outer wall and she stepped up to it, shocked at it's crumbling exterior. The door was no longer hidden and she stepped inside, gazing around curiously.

A small voice spoke and she turned, studying the bricks intently until she spied him - the little blue worm with the red scarf. "Hello." Kneeling beside the wall, she was surprised to see that he wasn't alone. Beside him was a smaller pink worm, a green scarf wound tightly around her neck and tears glistening in her eyes. "What's the matter?"

"The walls become even more unstable and we can't stay any longer. My Missus is quite tore up about leaving." The little worm explained as his companion sniffled quietly.

"Can I help?" Sarah asked but he just shook his head sorrowfully before responding. "No, miss. Not unless you can bring the Goblin King back." Shock rang through her and she felt herself going dizzy as the worms moved on their way.

Rocking back on her heels, Sarah slid down to sit on the pathway, her heart aching deeply. "Jareth." She barely spoke it, the aching increasing at the mere thought of his name. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. How could he be gone?

A sudden chill ran down her spine and she brushed the tears away, peering around. No one was there but Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The castle spire caught her eye and she stood, knowing that that would most likely hold all the answers to her questions.

xxxxx

She moved quickly through the Labyrinth, stepping over rocks and other debris from the rotting shell of the magical maze. All hidden pathways were now laid bare for all to see but Sarah stayed cautious, unsure if the oublietes would be rendered harmless now.

Pausing, she realized that she was now halfway through the Labyrinth and had yet to make a wrong turn on the path. Her eyebrows puckered as she turned, looking over her shoulder at the path that lay behind her and then back to the path before.

"It's a straight path to the city." She murmured in amazement. It was like it had been specifically cleared out for her to pass through as quickly as possible. Taking a deep breath, she crawled over a large rock and continued through on her way.

xxxxx

The city doors barely hung on, swinging slightly. Sarah approached them warily, calling out. "Hello? Is anyone here?" Her voice echoed back to her as she stepped through the gates.

The wind whistled through the deserted city, the only sound in the unnaturally silent place. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shuddered, hugging herself tightly. The lack of goblins bustling around the city was unnerving. Her steps quickened and she raced to the castle steps, the feeling of being watched returning.

She ran up the steps and burst inside the castle, slamming the door behind her with a loud clang. Leaning against it, she took a moment to catch her breath as the fear subsided. Looking around, she was surprised to see dusk and broken furniture littered around the entrance.

"Who goes there?" Sarah instantly recognized the voice and jumped forward, relief flooding her. The fox trotted into the room, poking around with his sword.

"Sir Didymus! I'm so happy to see you!" He looked at her, momentarily stunned before recognizing her.

"M'lady Sarah! How art thee?" He put his sword away and a weary smile settled on his lips.

"I'm fine but what about this place? Why is everything so barren and derelict?" She gestured around the castle and towards the Labyrinth. "And Jareth-" Her voice cracked slightly and she swallowed hard to keep the emotions at bay. "He said he was gone. That's not true, right?"

Sir Didymus' ears drooped, a remorseful look clouding his eye as he turned. "I best let Hoggle tell thee. I do not know the truth of the matters myself." He padded down the closest corridor and she followed after him.

xxxxx

Hoggle stood just outside of the throne room, alternating between pacing and shaking his head. Sir Didymus ushered her towards him and left them alone in the hall. Hoggle stopped pacing and stiffened, his eyes sharply staring at her before he slightly relaxed.

"Sarah? That is you, isn't it?" He said, astonished. At her nod, he trudge over to her, his wrinkly face breaking into a smile. "Yous all grow up, little missy."

Sarah laughed lightly and bent down to hug him. "I've missed you, my dear friend." She released him and knelt on the floor before him, the seriousness once more settling on her face. "What's going on? Why is everything abandoned? And where's Jareth?"

Hoggle stepped back, his eyes growing sad. "It hasn't been the same since you left all those years ago. His Majesty...something broke in him that day, he's never been the same since." He paused, searching for the right words as he twisted his hands.

Sarah reached out and gripped his hands tightly between hers, looking into his eyes. "Take your time, Hoggle. Don't worry about hurting me, I already hurt more than I thought possible. I just need to know."

"Alright, if you says so. After that day, he seemed different. Nothing caught his interest, no matters how hard we all tried. He just seemed...lifeless." He looked away from her as a tear slid down her cheek. "We learned to live with that, as best as we could. But then, he just fell asleep and never woke up."

Sarah couldn't stop the strangled sob that escaped her lips and she pressed her hand over her mouth to prevent more from escaping as Hoggle hurried to continue. "And that's when the Labyrinth started to decay, right before our very eyes! It's not fits to live in no more so everyone left except us." He awkwardly patted her back as she cried, sobs tearing from her mouth despite all her work to keep them contained.

After a few moments, she wiped her face, still shaking as Hoggle pretended not to notice. "Where is he?"

Hoggle motioned toward the throne room. "He's in there. We couldn't move him, no matter how hard we tried to." Nodding, Sarah rose, steadying herself on the wall. Her whole body felt numb but she forced hherself to walk forward. She had to see, needed to see that he was gone.

Hoggle stayed where he was, fidgeting as she disappeared into the room. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he quickly dashed them away. "Poor little miss."

xxxxx

Jareth lay across the throne, his face peaceful and still. The breeze slightly ruffled his wild, golden locks and Sarah stopped. "Jareth?" Her voice was quiet and tentatively she took a few steps forward until she stood right before his throne.

He made no movement or sound, just lay there motionless. Reaching out a finger, she lightly touched his hand before jerking back, terrified that he'd open his eyes. The last thing she wanted to see was those beautiful eyes staring back at her dead and lifeless.

A few seconds passed and still no movement. Sarah moved closer to him, gently cupping his face in her hand. The coldness of his skin startled her and she carefully rubbed her thumb against his cheek, tears stinging her eyes. "Oh, Jareth. I meant to come back, I truly did." She sobbed, tears running freely. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I love you. She couldn't speak the words out loud, not now. It wouldn't be right...

She broke completely, dropping to her knees as she wept. Without a thought, she leaned forward, laying her forehead against his chest and clutching his icy hand in hers. Her heart felt like it was being torn from her chest and she fought to breathe between sobs. He's gone - he's truly gone!

xxxxx

Sarah rubbed her eyes for the hundredth time that day, the tears had ceased their flow for the time being. She sat curled against the throne, Jareth's hand still tightly grasped in her own. Hoggle had peering around the corner a few times and she knew he was worried about her but she wasn't ready to face anyone yet.

As she yawned, it startled her and her eyes suddenly felt heavy. Her head sagged to the side and she let her body go limp. "Sarah." She could almost hear Jareth's voice whispering her name and she tried to ignore it, anxious to avoid the pain. "Sarah."

Something tugged at her arm and she stiffened, slowly opening her eyes. Jareth's hand no longer rest in hers and she shot up, looking around. As she looked at his body, she froze. His eyes fluttered open and those familiar mismatched eyes were staring weakly down at her.

"I'm dreaming. What a horrible dream!" She screamed, jumping off the floor. She heard Hoggle shuffling down the hall but she couldn't take her eyes off Jareth, his hand feebly reaching out towards her.

"My sweet, you came back." He croaked through parched lips. "I've been waiting for you for so long."

"Your Majesty!" Hoggle gasped behind her and she spun around to look at his shocked face as he stepped closer to them. "How did you do it?"

"I was lost in the darkness and I heard you." Jareth licked his lips, coughing slightly. Hoggle rushed to get him a cup of water, which Jareth greedily drank in one gulp. Hoggle refilled the cup and left the pitcher beside the throne as Sarah still stared in astonishment at him, finally calm. "But how? They said you were dead."

"What?" Hoggle balked. "I never said no such thing, your Majesty! I saids you fell asleep and never woke up, that's what I says." He thumped his chest lightly.

"You were calling me, were you not?" Jareth asked, his voice stronger as he sat up in the throne. "You called me and led me back before I vanished into the void. And Sarah," he paused, leaning forward with a slight grin. "you'd best not be playing a trick on me with those cruel tears. You know how cruel I can be."

Sarah glanced away, still confused by his miraculous recovery. "I'm not playing games anymore, Jareth." She turned her eyes back to him, gazing intently into his eyes. "I meant what I said."

"Oh, I know you did, my love, otherwise I wouldn't still be here." He smiled at her, his sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight.

Sir Didymus came rushing down the hall, his voice an unintelligible squeak. Hoggle rolled his eyes, lumbering toward the door grunting under his breath. The fox dashed into, almost colliding with an irritated dwarf.

"Something is going on out there!" He rushed past the throne and out onto the balcony, Sarah close on his heels. She watched in awe as the Labyrinth repaired itself, everything pulling itself back together from the surrounding rubble. Even the gates to the Goblin City straightened themselves and reattached to the walls.

Stunned, Sarah turned back to the Goblin King, his eyes dancing with mirth. "All is right now, Sarah. Everything is as it should be now." He stood, a bit wobbly and crossed the room to stand beside her. Suddenly she was caught up in a tight embrace, Jareth's arms holding her close. It took her a moment to relax and she leaned into him, hugging him back as she whispered in his ear the words she hadn't dared to speak before.

"Thank you for returning, my love. And thank you for waking me up." He gently kissed her forehead before turning her back toward the balcony, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he smiled. He finally felt alive again.

[fullvoidmoon]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing/s: bayverse!Donatello x fem!reader

Setting/Timeline: Halloween, a few years after the Krang invasion, TMNT x The 13th Ghost crossover

Warning(s)/Genre(s): I honestly don’t know :))))

Word Count: 1,456

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Donatello, Leonardo and Master Splinter (mentioned) © Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014/2016 film) © Michael Bay THIR13EN Ghosts © Steve Beck, Robb White Context © me

A/N: This is an entry for @sdavid09’s Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2019, and I got the movie THIR13EN Ghosts.

So yeah, I haven’t wrote anything in almost 2 years. That’s because I still don’t have a laptop to have my writings properly done (using my phone sucks), and life outside of Tumblr keeps me super busy. And I still have some pending things that I need to finish.

But anyway, I decided to finish this one first because Halloween is just about a month away, and it’s my first time writing anything TMNT. So please go easy on me, and I’ve become rusty with my writing!

Masterlist: HERE

Halloween was, and has never been, your favorite holiday.

It’s not because it is the odd one among the known holidays you get to celebrate every year.

It’s also not because of you knowing it’s original purpose before Trick or Treating was introduced; remember the people who came before and molded the world that you live in today.

“You’re really not telling me anything, (Y/N),” the tallest among the turtle brothers spoke to you, his golden hues couldn’t hide his worry when he took a glance at you from his work table, “it’s about that nightmare, isn’t it?”

“I really couldn’t hide anything from you, can I Donnie?” You exasperated as you turn you gaze towards your favorite turtle before forcing yourself to smile and try to ease his worry.

You are okay celebrating Halloween, especially if you’ll be getting free sweets that you can use in making cakes and pastries. However, there’s only one thing that has been keeping you from celebrating the said holiday.

“You really can’t hide anything from me,” Donnie slightly chuckled, leaving his unfinished project and making his way towards you, “you know you can always tell me anything. I’m your favorite turtle, and you’re my favorite human.”

Some say it’s just a nightmare you’ve always had ever since that you can remember. But you know, deep down, it’s not just a mere nightmare.

To you, it’s more like a memory. A memory that is only haunting you ever Halloween.

“I’ve been having this dream, Donnie,” you sighed, unknowingly reaching out for the terrapin’s hands and holding it like your life depends on it, “and it feels so real, that every time I wake up I could still feel that eerie feeling whenever I tried remembering that glass house-”

“Wait (Y/N), did you say glass house?” Donnie interjects, his voice sounded kind of off his usual tone while ignoring the butterflies that invaded his stomach upon feeling your soft hands holding onto his own.

“Yeah, a glass house with Latin writings that filled up most of its walls,” you said, eyeing Donnie as if he knows something that you don’t.

“I just remember a story sensei told us when we were kids,” Donnie somewhat forced a smile to try and ease your worry, “it made us not go up the surface and join the neighborhood’s kids while trick or treating.”

“What was the story about?” You asked after giggling for a few moments, somehow forgetting the question you initially wanted to ask the purple-banded genius, “surely it’s not scary if you’re going to think about it now, right?”

Donnie suddenly became quiet, the humor that once was obvious in his eyes was replaced with apprehension and worry, and it became obvious to you when he turned his attention back to his work bench. You could feel it, that slight tension that built up whenever he became quiet, and you’re worried it might’ve something that you’ve said just moments ago

“Donnie,” you softly called him, placing you hand carefully on his well sculpted arm that you’ve silently wished to hold onto since that faithful night on the rooftop with your childhood friend, April. “I’m sorry if I offended you or anything.”

Donnie let out a shaky sigh, turning his attention back to you as he gave your hand a gently squeeze. “Do you really wanna know?” He asked.

“Yes, Donnie,” you reassured him, giving of a smile that he secretly loved so much, “and if you’re worried, you know that I can’t be scared that easily.” ___

“We’re here, (Y/N).”

Anticipation and nervousness is a bit of an understatement to what you’re currently feeling.

Ever since Donnie told you about the story Splinter had told them years ago, the feeling that you’re having towards your nightmare has started to become stronger.

That there’s more to it than what it seems.

“Sensei said this is the place,” Donnie said as he helped out get of the Shellraiser, making sure he has his gear ready for anything, “and based on the address he gave us, and with the matching coordinates when I searched for the place, this is where the house should be located.”

You wouldn’t be expecting that Donnie would drive you all the way from New York to British Columbia in Canada. You told him and Master Splinter that either you’ll let your nightmarish memories be and hope that you’ll not be dreaming of it in the next couple of months, or you’ll just visit the place whenever you’re not busy.

“The place does look and feel familiar,“ you replied while Donnie helped you get off the Shellraiser, “but I didn’t expect for you to have me come here as soon as Master Splinter gave us the address.“

Donnie rolled his eyes as he gave out a chuckle with a hint of that cute snort that you’ve come to adore, “if it’ll help your nightmares diminish in anyway, it’s better to come here as soon as we can.“

“Even if you’ll get a scolding from Leo?“ You playfully smirked as Donnie then gave you a hearty laugh in return, “you know he would like having one of his brothers absent for your daily midnight patrols.“

“This is more important than patrolling New York City, (Y/N),“ he replied, lightly sighing as he knows deep down that he’ll be in trouble with his older brother once both of you return home, “you know I would do anything for you.“

You’ve reached out and hold onto Donnie’s hands, lightly brushing both of your thumbs over his big knuckles as you gave him a grateful smile. And seeing the light shade of pink that dusted over his cheeks, you kind of guessed that he might’ve also feel the same way as what you’re feeling towards him.

Both of you would’ve loved the moment that’s being shared, if only the circumstances were a bit different than the one you’re having.

“Why don’t we finish what we’ve came here for,“ you chuckled as you slowly let go of Donnie’s hands, “this place is honestly giving me the chills.“

“Y-yeah, you’re right,“ he replied, kind of disappointed that the feeling of your hands holding onto his didn’t last the way he would wanted, “let me go check on my scanners and see if there’s anything that I can find about this place.“

You hoped that Donnie would find at least a bit more information about the place, but seeing that there’s no glass house in sight as what you both expecting to find when you arrived, you felt that driving all the way to Canada was only a waste of effort.

No house, no signs that a house was even built on the place. Just a wide piece of land in the middle off a some sort of a clearing.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Donnie said has he sadly led you back to the Shellraiser. “I’ve tried looking for anything about the glass house, but all that my scanners can pick up is that there was indeed a house built here.”

“But it was demolished or something?” You asked as Donnie got back on the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“I was hoping that it was,” he sighed, taking a look back at the spot where the house was supposed to be standing, “however, there are no signs that it was demolished. I didn’t even find a couple of tiny pieces that should’ve been the remnants of the glass house.“

“So it just vanished.” You said, disbelief clearly obvious in your voice.

“It seems to be, if you’re just simply going to look at it,” Donnie replied, giving you an encouraging smile as he started to drive, “but I promise that I will find out more about the mystery of the house no matter what it takes.”

Halloween was, and has never been, your favorite holiday. No matter how hard you tried liking it, the nightmares have only hindered you from ever appreciating the holiday.

“I sure hope so, Donnie,” you sighed, trying to get a bit more comfortable on you sit for another long hours of driving is ahead of you.

You only hope that this year will be the last of you having many of those sleepless nights. The possibilities may seem bleak, but you know that nothing is impossible if your purple-clad terrapin is there to help you.

Even if a glass house, with Latin texts inscribed on its walls, was standing all this time, looming over the whole clearing as you broth drive away.

And an ominous presence, filled with evil and hatred in all of humanity as it carried its torn straight jacket with a torn cubic head cage, looking right at the leaving Shellraiser.

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

This Is Halloween

A/N: So I joined @sdavid09 Fright Night Challenge. I chose the movie Nightmare Before Christmas and the SPN fandom. I had this wrote out last month, but wanted to wait until it was actually October

Pairing: Sam x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1055

Halloween was just around the corner. You were excited, this was your favorite time of year. You loved everything about it. Sure you probably started preparations a little early (you decorated at the end of August) and you had most likely eaten more candy than was healthy, but you didn’t care. Halloween was your favorite holiday. It always had been. You could remember many times as a child and a teen dressing up and going trick-or-treating.

You didn’t go out anymore, but you still dressed up and if you were able to you gave out candy. Sometimes you were away on a case and couldn’t do it, but this year it looked like you would get to be at home. The thought thrilled you. You walked around the den, dancing around and singing like you were the only one there.

“Boys and girls of every age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange?” You spun and dropped some candy corn in your mouth. “Come with us and you will see, this our town of Halloween.”

“Babe what are you doing and what are you wearing?” Sam had walked into the den to see you frolicking about. It completely baffled the large hunter as this was your first Halloween together.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? And as for what I’m wearing I’m Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas.” You smiled and did a little twirl. “It’s one of my favorite movies.”

“What’s Nightmare Before Christmas?”

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at Sam like he had grown a second head. “You did not just ask me that. Oh the horror, the humanity...I’m not sure our relationship can continue. I’m sorry, but you have just spoken blasphemy and I cannot take it...nay I will not.”

Yes you were being overly dramatic. You knew it, Sam knew it, anyone who actually knew you knew it. It was part of your charm and what made you adorable. While you were actually in shock he hadn’t seen the movie you really weren’t that bothered by it.

Okay maybe you were a little bothered.

“Alright baby girl if it’s that big of a deal then let’s watch it together.” He plopped down on the couch and held a hand out for you.

Instantly you were beside him, the remote in hand. You turned Netflix on faster than a demon could smoke out. The movie was in your favorites list and you clicked on it. Snuggling up to Sam, you kept your eyes glued to the TV.

Sam hummed softly, laughed at some points, and found it adorable when you sang the songs along with the movie. It was clear that you truly liked it.

As the end credits rolled you looked up at your boyfriend. “So…what did ya think?”

“It’s a good movie. Cute, funny, has a few jump scares if stuff like that got to me. I can see why you like it so much. Enough to dress up as one of the characters.” He smiled softly.

It was no secret that Sam Winchester didn’t like Halloween. He was a hunter and he took down the things that went bump in the night. He couldn’t understand the point of dressing up as a monster or watching monster movies when those things existed in the real world. But how could he tell his gorgeous kickass girlfriend not to decorate?

He had started to tell you not to put up the decorations when he and Dean had come home from a supply run, but when he saw how excited you were he couldn’t. Now you had the whole place decorated and were even getting into costume. Somehow you were making him see Halloween in a whole new light.

You beamed and kissed him. “I knew you would like it. Maybe even enough to wear a costume while we give out candy?”

“No one is going to come to the bunker baby girl. How do you plan to give out candy?”

“At the library. They’re doing a thing where the kids can come there. I volunteered. Will you do it with me?” You gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes; the one sure fire way to get him to agree to almost anything.

He groaned softly and nodded. “Yeah I’ll do it for the kids. What’s the costume?”

“Jack Skellington. I already have it in the bedroom.”

He laughed softly, shaking his hair. “Of course you do. For some reason I’m not surprised. Alright. Go get it and I’ll put it on.”

You skipped off to the bedroom singing once more. “Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange? Come with us and you will see. This, our town of Halloween. This is Halloween, this is Halloween. Pumpkins scream in the dead of night…

Sam shook his head and smiled. So maybe you were a little strange and more into Halloween than any hunter he had ever met. Maybe you started decorating earlier than what was completely normal. And maybe you sometimes acted a little childish. None of that mattered though. You were adorable, kind, caring, and sweet. If putting up with your love of Halloween and even dressing up for it was something that would make you happy, Sam was willing to make that sacrifice.

By the end of the night you were tired and a little sore from standing for so long, but it was worth it. You had enjoyed seeing the kids smile when you gave out the candy and a few free books. It had been a good night and even Sam didn’t seem to be complaining.

After you undressed and took your makeup off you laid in the bed and looked over at him. “Was this really as bad as you thought it was going to be?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never thought it was going to be bad.”

You raised a brow. “I know you baby. You hated Halloween. Have I changed your mind any?”

“Maybe just a little.” He kisses you and turned the bedside lamp off.

Closing your eyes you snuggled him to go to sleep. As you began to drift off you could have sworn you heard him humming softly.

“This is Halloween, this is Halloween…” he mumbled under his breath.