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Property of Cora's Fall Drabbles


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I really wanted to do a drabble challenge, and I know I’ve seen some on here before, but for the life of me cannot seem to locate any at the moment.  So, I decided to create my own.  And halfway through that I thought, why not theme them all around my favorite time of year?  So yes, welcome to my thread of Halloween/Fall themed drabbles.  Feel free to borrow if you’d like to attempt it.  No, shh, it’s not too early. 

Anyways, these will primarily be fandoms like Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Ouat, Tim Burton and whatever else happens to grab my attention in the moment.  Maybe some originals will crop up too.  But mostly DW.

  • 1.       Leaves
  • 2.       Pumpkin
  • 3.       Ginger
  • 4.       Black Cat
  • 5.       Trick or Treat
  • 6.       Sweater Weather
  • 7.       Ghost
  • 8.       Fright
  • 9.       Vampire
  • 10.   Cauldron
  • 11.   Potion
  • 12.   Flying
  • 13.   Full Moon
  • 14.   Thirteen
  • 15.   Costume
  • 16.   Haunted House
  • 17.   Harvest
  • 18.   Corn Maze
  • 19.   Graveyard
  • 20.   Storm
  • 21.   Scarf
  • 22.   Cold
  • 23.   Wind
  • 24.   Candy
  • 25.   Skeleton
  • 26.   Spirits
  • 27.   Pumpkin Patch
  • 28.   Scarecrow
  • 29.   Hay ride
  • 30.   Magic
  • 31.   Brew


#1: Leaves

Pairing:  Doctor Who, River/11

River loved her Doctor, but oh, that man, she could kill him sometimes.

He’d come and picked her up from Stormcage for an evening together, sporting a ridiculous grin as he refused to tell her where they were headed.  After some banter and prodding, she’d of course worked it out of him—the Forests of Horticula for a nice hike up a cliffside to see the magnificent triple solar eclipse that occurred only once every billion years.  He always did do his best to charm her with the most dazzling wonders.

River had promptly gone off to find something more suitable to wear, leaving him to land the TARDIS with more than enough time to do it over again when he inevitably put them too far away on the first go.

Suited up in her favorite pair of jodhpurs and a fitted top that showed off her curves in the most deliciously fun way, River hooked her weapon into a holster and headed back to the TARDIS control room. 

“Doctor?” she called into the silence. 

River shrugged, figuring he must have gone ahead to scout out the best trail through the trees for them, and headed out the TARDIS doors.

The moment she stepped out, a frenzy of brown and red blurs swarmed at her.  She barely completed a single heartbeat in the time it took her to raise her weapon to the offending swarm and fire three consecutive times, disintegrating her attackers into dust.

“Riverrrr,” her Doctor whined, “you shot my leaves.”

“Your… what?”  River blinked and looked around.  Apparently it was fall on Horticula, if the autumnal hue of all the surrounding trees was anything to go by.  And then there was her Doctor—her mad, ridiculous, idiot husband—staring at her with two fistfuls of dead leaves, sitting atop a pile of even more of them, sporting a childish pout and another of those hideous fezzes he kept procuring out of nowhere. 

“You wrecked them,” he whined, throwing another fistful in her direction and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Those were leaves?” She rolled her eyes before he’d even answered, because of course he’d thrown leaves at her the moment she walked through the door.

“They were supposed to be a fun surprise,” he grumbled.

“Never surprise a girl who’s packing, Sweetie.”  River sighed and went over to his side, staring down at him with her hands on her hips and waiting for her man to pull himself up from his pile of leaves.  Absentmindedly, she moved a hand to rub at her nose, feeling an itch begin to creep its way deep into the back.  The rubbing did nothing, so River sniffed discreetly, but it only grew worse.  With a gasp, she stepped back, fanning a hand in front of her face in confusion.

“River?  What’s wrong?”

But of course, mold spores.  Her idiot Doctor had thrown fistfuls of Horticula’s decaying leaves in her direction, and she’d just disintegrated them into dust all around herself.  River Song was not a weak person, but suddenly she felt unsure of her own ability to withstand such a torturous level of agony against her poor nose.

“Huh… hehhhhhh HehhISHHHHooo!  ISHHHHHHHHhiew!” River sneezed openly, bending at the waist as her curls sprung wildly around her head in front of her. 

“Huhhhhh…. Huhhh ISHH!  ISHHH!  ISHHiew!”

God, was it ever going to stop?

“I huh--- hate you,” River snarled pathetically, even as another sneeze took hold.

“No you don’t,” he replied, holding out a handkerchief with an orange leaf poking out the end of his sleeve.  As though it was teasing her nose, River accepted the cloth greedily and set off into another round.

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On 8/30/2017 at 11:05 PM, Arty said:

Tim Burton!!!!!!????? Yess!!!!!

YESSSS There's definitely not enough content for his characters and they're some of my favorites, especially around this time of year.  

On 8/30/2017 at 11:44 PM, matilda3948 said:

:woot0: Ahh! Doctor Who and allergic, sassy River! It doesn't get any better.

I have to agree! Haha, glad you enjoy.  There's a strong chance she'll be front and center in at least half of these, knowing me.  

On 9/4/2017 at 2:06 AM, elizachoo said:

I've been thinking about this drabble challenge a lot since you posted it... I might indeed have to try it for myself!

Yay!  I see you already have started, which is so exciting!  I'll be heading over to read it after I post these.


All right everyone, I had so much fun with these additions!  Hope you enjoy!  I've got some Dark Shadows (the movie version) and some more Doctor Who for you today.

#2:  Pumpkin

Fandom: Dark Shadows,  Dr. Julia Hoffman

Upon his arrival, Barnabas had been shown the growing pumpkins in the gardens.  Yet, in his horror over the giant letter M and all that followed, it had never occurred to him that they may indeed be connected to some strange satanical ritual.  They now decorated his family’s dining room, complete with oddly carved faces like those of the demons gripping his soul. 

For no apparent reason, his family seemed unalarmed by their presence, instead preoccupied with the growing cold which he, in his cursed state, could not feel.  He had determined to take it upon himself, then, to watch carefully for any signs of witchcraft should the demon faces bring it to his home once more.

They were having breakfast—a time which Elizabeth insisted he join and pretend to eat, as his identity was still very much a secret from the rest of the household.  All was usual, right down to Dr. Julia Hoffman’s late arrival, and Barnabas was beginning to think he could relax for the time being.

That is, until Julia, rather than lamenting her morning hangover, broke habit by gasping sharply.

Barnabas flickered his gaze in her direction, ready to face the demons rising as he feared they would, when Julia lifted a tired hand to her mouth and held it a few inches away.  Her bosom shook with the force of her fragmented breaths, until suddenly she burst forth with a deep, bellowing,

“Huhh… HuhhRUSHHHHHoo!”

“I fear it is the plague!” he exclaimed, leaping at once from his seat and striding across the room to Victoria, placing a hand over her mouth to spare her a horrific death.

All eyes were on him, looking as bewildered as he, though none stood to move.

“HuuuhhrUSHoo!” she sneezed again, rubbing at her inflamed nostrils with a congested groan.

“My family, I beg you to spare your own lives.  It is too late, the demons have claimed this woman with pestilence.  We can do nothing to save her, only run!” he cried, yet still they foolishly remained seated.

“Ugh,” Julia groaned before sniffling loudly into her napkin, which had since replaced her hand.  “It’s just a cold,” she whimpered congestedly.

Before he could inquire as to what new-worldly ailment this could be, and whether or not it would be too late to spare the rest of his family from the same fated death, Elizabeth spoke up and shot him a withering glare.  “Of course,” she cried loudly, “how could I forget, you mentioned that horrible fear of germs you have, Barnabas.”



#3: Ginger

Fandom: Doctor Who, River/Thirteen (Yes, I know, we haven’t met her yet.  But it’s fun to imagine!)

“I can’t believe I’m still not a ginger,” the Doctor grumbled through her thick northern accent.

River chuckled merrily, still gleefully amused by her wife’s newest transformation, and set a bubbling glass down in front of her.  The Doctor was seated at the counter in the Tardis kitchen, still recovering from the roughness of putting off a regeneration too long.

“What is it?” she asked, crinkling her brow and staring into the glass’s slightly yellowish contents.

“Ginger ale,” River quipped, eyes twinkling with mirth, “Sorry it won’t help with the hair though.  Thought you could use something to help with all that buzzing regeneration energy.  I remember it can be hell on the stomach.”

The Doctor glared playfully, but secretly loved the gesture.  River had been all too willing to help her adapt to the newness of suddenly having a female body, but it was these little touches that made her all too glad she’d gone to her wife for assistance.  It was too sad to think of getting a brand new face and having no one around to see it.

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile.  The Doctor took the offered glass and lifted it to her lips, sighing as the bubbles swirled around her mouth and bit at her tongue, curling up toward her nasal passages with the slightest of tickles from the ginger.

“Oh!” The Doctor exclaimed, putting down the glass to free her hand so she could rub her nose of the unexpected tingles.  Sensing it only wished to grow stronger, she gasped, gripping onto the counter and setting forth with two petite sneezes.  “Hhh… hehhhh….. hhchhIEW! Chiew!”


The Doctor sniffed, sensing the tickle had gone, and frowned.  “I don’t like this new nose.  It’s much too sensitive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s adorable!” River exclaimed, leaning closer with the biggest grin the Doctor had seen in days. 

She raised a blonde brow in question.  “Adorable how exactly?  All I did was sneeze.”

“Yes, but your last face I saw practically took my hearing out with those horribly loud sneezes.  Now you look like a little bunny.  It even scrunches up.”

“I’m not a bunny,” she grumbled, “But I guess I should be glad you’re amused, since you’d best be getting used to hearing it.”

“And why is that?”

“B- because…. HetChiEW!”  She paused to sniff.  “I’m not sure this nose has any plans to ever stop.”

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Here's some Missy and 12 fun for you all.  I'm working on some more River ones, and maybe something else, but I couldn't resist posting these now.  Hope you enjoy!  I had a ton of fun with them.


#4: Black Cat

Fandom: Doctor Who, 12/Missy

Note:  So I actually loved this, a lot, and am considering turning it into something longer.  As it was I was reluctant to end it.  So if there's any interest...


“Had a little trouble with the pony—it refused to get in the Tardis…long story, there were singing penguins—but I think I found you the next best thing!” the Doctor exclaimed as he carefully unlocked Missy’s vault.

She was, as usual, sitting calmly at her piano in a way that somehow unnerved him even more than when she pranced wildly about.  She’d been doing that a lot lately, and he wasn’t sure what to think about it.  Still, a promise was a promise, and while her help had been less than thrilling in its usefulness, he had tried to bring her the pony she requested.

Well, as close to it as he could manage.

A little black bundle tucked in his arm, undoubtedly getting fur all over his suit, mewed softly as the Doctor sealed the vault door behind him.  Missy’s fingers stilled on the keyboard and she turned curious eyes on him.

“You brought me a cat?” she questioned, standing and striding closer in her purple suit to inspect it.  He was pleased to note, she didn’t look angered by the unexpected change.

“Yes, I thought you’d like her.  Much less messy than that pony anyways, trust me.”  He grimaced.

Missy took the kitten and held it out in front of her face, inspecting it. 

“Is she good?” she asked, accent thickening as it always did when she tested out that word.

“No more troublesome than I,” he insisted.

Missy nodded once and sniffed, apparently in approval, and cuddled the kitten against her shoulder.  “I shall call her Doctor Who.”

The Doctor frowned.  “Missy…”

“Chiew!” Missy sneezed suddenly in a high squeal, pitching forward with the unexpected force and clutching the kitten closer.

“Bless you.  Now, Missy, you can’t just call her—”

“Heh… hhhhhihCHIEW! Chhoo!”  In an artificial sunbeam through one of the windows, the Doctor could see a misting spray from her uncovered sneezes, wet as they’d been.  She snuffled pathetically and he found himself reaching forward in concern.

“Everything all right?”

Missy turned toward him, eyes watering, and he realized too late that her nose was desperately twitching.  Her thin upper lip drew higher, as if in a sneer, and with a heavy gasp she drew back before pitching forward, right in the Doctor’s direction with his outstretched hand.

“Hehhh-ihhehh… Chieeew! Ch-choo! Huhhhihhh… chIEWWW!”

The Doctor grimaced as his hand was coated in a misting of Missy’s spray, and from the look on her face, she didn’t seem likely to stop or change her mind and try to cover anytime soon.  As if to agree, the kitten mewed in her arms.

Quickly, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off the back of his hand, then held it out to his friend who merely blinked at it and sneezed yet again in its general direction.

“Maybe you should set the kitten down so you can blow your nose, I’d say you may be allergic to Doctor Who there.”




#5: Trick or Treat

Fandom: Doctor Who, 12/Missy


The Doctor snuffled thickly as he made his way toward the vault.  Nardole had been very insistent that he stay away, sure that she would notice his weakness and use it against him, and for days he’d felt just badly enough to put up only a halfhearted fight.

“Trick or treat?” he called out, knocking lightly on the vault door, trying to sound playful despite the raspy deepened quality to his cold-ridden voice.  It was Halloween, after all, and he couldn’t deny his old friend a visit when even Nardole was out having fun.

“I’d normally pick trick, but what the heck, a treat sounds quite good,” Missy squealed, wrapping her arms around the Doctor from behind in the darkness and giggling.

He jumped in surprise, rattling something loose in his nose and bending forward with a booming, “HuhhhESHHOoo!” The Doctor snuffled and shook free from her hold, turning to face Missy with a tired scowl.

“What do you think you’re doing?  You’re supposed to be inside the vault!” he croaked.

Missy rolled her eyes and turned to open it herself, which really shouldn’t have been at all possible, yet it opened straight away. 

“Oh, relax.  I didn’t go anywhere.  It’s been days since you’ve visited and I got bored.”  She wandered in, leaving the door open behind her for him to follow.

This was definitely not part of the plan, he thought with a groan.  Missy wasn’t even supposed to see him, let alone invite him in.  She’d definitely figure out he had a cold if he didn’t leave quickly.  But of course, the Doctor’s twitching nose betrayed him, and just as Missy turned to see if he was following, both hands flew up to catch several desperate sneezes.

“Hehh..ehhSHOO! ShIEW! Huhh…nnnggggehhhhhSHOO!”  He coughed weakly, wishing he’d thought to bring a handkerchief down. 

As though she’d read his mind, Missy dangled one down in front of his face, which he gratefully accepted.  When had she moved so close?  Her hand was on his warm forehead and she made a tsking noise.

“Come to share your germs, have you?”

He groaned, wishing more than anything he’d listened to Nardole and stayed in bed.  “No, that wasn’t…”

Missy squeaked, aggravating his headache, and began tugging him forward.  “Am only teasing.  Come on, Doctor, to bed with you.  Promise I’ll stay put, cross my heart and everything.”  Everything ached, and while some part of him knew it was a bad idea, the Doctor still let Missy tuck him in, holding onto their shared history in his fevered mind.  And with that, he drifted off to the sound of her familiar piano playing, wondering if he’d imagined a soft kiss on his forehead.

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I don't have proper internet (hurricane) so I quote or emoji but these are soooo great!! I love 12 and Missy. I need to write about them as well. They're fascinating. Thank you!!

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21 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

I don't have proper internet (hurricane) so I quote or emoji but these are soooo great!! I love 12 and Missy. I need to write about them as well. They're fascinating. Thank you!!

Ahh, hope all is okay!  That was a brutal storm.  And yay, I'm so glad you enjoyed them!  I love 12 and Missy and would absolutely adore you writing them sometime.    I definitely have plans for some more of them in here eventually.  Probably very soon.


For now though, I've got some new stuff for everyone!  Some River/11 and a little Hecate Hardbroom.  I did go out of order here, but the idea struck me and I couldn't resist writing it now.  I'll fill in the prompts I skipped over asap.


#6: Sweater Weather

Fandom: Doctor Who, River/11

River knew leaving the Tardis wearing a sleeveless dress on a crisp Fall night wasn’t the smartest idea, but it would have to do when she was with the Doctor.  He’d pranced out without a second thought, already running after some grand disaster, and she didn’t dare delay to find a sweater.  The Doctor hated those little reminders of her human half, her weaknesses that he never worried for himself. 

Yet now they were back inside, hours and a few near death experiences later, and even with the heater turned subtly higher by the Tardis—thanks old girl—River couldn’t shake the chill from her body.  It felt as though the crisp frigid air had taken hold and seeped all the way through to her bones.  She clenched her teeth to keep from visibly shivering, lest the Doctor discover.  River Song refused to have suffered through the cold in vain.

She sniffled discreetly, hitting a few buttons to mask the noise.  It seemed the chill was going to work itself out the hard way, then.

“Well, Sweetie, I’d better get back to Stormcage then.  They miss me when I’m gone too long, you know,” she lied, needing to get away before the chill blossomed into a full-blown, weakly human cold right in front of him.

“Oh.”  The Doctor pouted.  She pretended not to notice.  “Already?  But we only just got back to the Tardis.  I haven’t even taken you to see the Arcadia Lights yet.”

“Another time,” River said with a shrug of nonchalance she didn’t feel. 

His pout deepened and he looked away.  It hurt her to lie to him so, but not as much as it hurt to see him look at her like she might break apart on him.  “If you insist, then,” he said.   Soon, he’d landed them back in Stormcage.

She wanted to stay, to just once let him take care of her, but she knew she’d never be able to handle it if she tried.

Needing to get out, as a tickle beginning to form at the back of her nose, and a scratch in her throat, River turned to the Tardis doors and headed out with a rushed goodbye.

“Wait!” the Doctor called, just as she’d stepped back out into her cell.  Feeling impatient, River crossed her arms across her chest and stood outside the open doors, hoping he would hurry.  The Doctor, with his silly mop of hair and that ridiculous lovely bow-tie, popped out with a wrapped package held in his hands. 

“What’s this for?” she asked, eyeing the present wearily.

The Doctor smiled, and though she was afraid to look at it for too long, she could have sworn there was an edge of sadness in it.  “Think of it as an apology gift.  For making you miss the lights.”

She didn’t know what to say, dumbfounded by his endless thoughtfulness, and merely took it and thanked him. 

“You’re sure you can’t go, just for a bit longer?  They’ll hardly know you’re gone.”

River sighed.  “I’ll see you next time, Doctor.” 

Finally taking her word for it, he turned and shut the door.  The sounds of the Tardis leaving still echoed off the reinforced concrete walls as the first of many sneezes wracked her body.  “Hehhh… hehhETCHoo!”

With a sniffle of annoyance, River opened the package, puzzled to find a large folded up blanket inside.  A note was tucked into the corner, scrawled in the Doctor’s messy writing, “Get well soon, Dear.”  She opened her diary and placed the note carefully inside before setting it down on her small table. 

River wrapped the blanket around herself, indulging in the warmth from her Doctor.  Together they laid down on her cot, and alone in her cell, River allowed herself to cry.


#11: Potion

Fandom: The Worst Witch, Hecate Hardbroom

Note: This was inspired by a line in Spelling Bee where Miss Hardbroom mentions sneezing potions.  It got my hopes up, and while nothing came of it, I couldn’t resist.


Done correctly, a perfect sneeze spell would be just strong enough to gently coax a witch’s nose through a single sneeze, usually for those instances when a troublesome itch becomes stuck.

Of course, Hecate strongly doubted Mildred Hubble’s potion would be done correctly.  She stared morosely down into the cauldron and hoped for the best.  The child was standing nervously fiddling about, the rest of the class watching with apt attention, and Hecate wished she had thought to assign anything else.

But of course, sneezing potions had to be on the final exam, so she had no choice but to teach them.

“Mildred Hubble, let’s see what you’ve done this time,” she said with a sigh.

Bracing herself for whatever might go wrong, Hecate drank from her goblet of Mildred’s potion.  She waited.

At first, there was nothing, and she wondered if the girl’s potion had been successful enough to do anything at all.  But then, there it was, a tickle slowly growing deep at the back of her nose.  Mildly surprised, though prepared nonetheless, Hecate raised a black handkerchief to her nose and gasped as the itch overtook her.

“Huhh…. HehTCHuh!” she sneezed sharply, with as much control as she could muster.  Mildred looked relieved.  Perhaps, just this once, she’d…

Hecate froze.  The tickle should have subsided with a single sneeze, yet it felt as though that sneeze had only served to increase her suffering.  Thousands of tiny feathers seemed to be poking and stroking, making a mess out of her nasal passages.  She gasped, clutching the nearest desk with one hand and raising her handkerchief back with the other, eyes fluttering as the itch built.  Stronger and stronger it grew, like nothing she’d ever felt, and soon Hecate could no more hold it back than she could hold onto her composure.

“Huhh….huhuhhh…huhhhhheehhh..iihhhhTCHuh! TCHHuh! Tchhuh! Tchuhhh! CHHuhhh!” She bent forward with the force. 

Students laughed in the background, but she could hardly concentrate on them.  Hecate waved her hand, trying to remove the potion’s effects, but her concentration was too broken by her constant stream of sneezes.  She could barely keep her eyes open long enough to peer into the cauldron, and unless she found out exactly what Mildred had done wrong…

“HuhETCHHHHuh!” The sneezes seemed to be growing stronger.  “M-mmiihhTCHuh! Mildred,” she snuffled, “W-whad… d-DETCHHuh! Did yuhhh-you d-d-d… do?”

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