bakerstreet | The Stuff of Nightmares

The Stuff of Nightmares

The Nightmare Fuel Meme

WARNING: This is not a nice meme, and will likely contain triggers for violence, pain, death, sexual situations, and all kinds of other unpleasant things. Click through at your own risk.

Nightmare Fuel: This is the stuff so horrifying that it can give people the creeps for years. This scares the pants off of just about anyone to the author/creator's delight. This makes you shrink in the back of your chair, look over your shoulder, and remind yourself that what's going on is (usually) only fictional....

HOW IT WORKS:
♦ Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom, and state any preferences. If you'd like to roll for/pick an option here, go for it. If you'd like, you can fill out this handy form to make things easier for others:

♦ Tag another character. Pick one of the options, either by using the RNG or just selecting one that interests you.
♦ Play out the results and respect others' preferences.
♦ Have fun and/or be traumatized!

1. ACID TRIP - Things are starting to get weird. Very weird. Your hands just popped off and are dancing the tango in the living room with your pet alligator while a Weeping Angel watches from the corner. There are invisible spiders crawling all over you and you don't dare open your mouth lest they fall in. It can only get as strange as your imagination will let it.

2. JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PARANOID DOESN'T MEAN THEY AREN'T OUT TO GET YOU - You just can't help the feeling that someone is watching you. Someone is out to get you. Who are your real friends? Is that person really an alien in disguise? Are there surveillance cameras in your bedroom walls?

3. THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES - Think about the worst nightmare that you've ever had. Guess what. You're now in it, and you just can't seem to wake up.

4. FUN WITH PHOBIAS - What do you fear? The dark? Heights? Swarms of insects? Snakes? Drowning? Whatever it is, it is now your reality.

5. TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCES OF THE NON-SPARKLY KIND - Something has gone wrong. You're...changing. And not in a good way. Are you turning into an animal? A demon? A monster? Were you assimilated by the Borg?

6. AND I MUST SCREAM - You can't move. You can't scream. You can't do anything but remain conscious of every passing second. Did you choose the wrong words for your wish? Were you turned to stone? Trapped by a curse? Turned into a doll, unmoving but forever beautiful? Sealed inside a tree for a thousand years?

7. A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES - The dread spectre of disease has raised its head. Do you have days to live? Hours? Seconds? Or will you waste away slowly? What will happen in the meantime?

8. EYE SCREAM, YOU SCREAM - Something terrible has happened to you. It could have been an accident, a curse, an attack, a disease, or a surgery gone terribly wrong. But you've been horribly mutilated (or are in the process thereof) and are disturbing to see. Perhaps the Phantom will let you borrow his mask.

9. HORRIBLE TO BEAR - Congratulations, you're with child! Except...this wasn't supposed to happen. Did you just wake up one morning and discover the surprise? Is it part of a bizarre science experiment? Are you carrying the child of the devil? Or did you just get a Face Full of Alien Wing-Wong and hellspawn is about to burst out of your chest?

10. THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO - This is a really tiny space you're in. And it looks like you're going to be here for an awfully long time. Did the other person shut you up in here? Are they a fellow prisoner? Or can you somehow convince them to let you out?

11. WELCOME TO THE APOCALYPSE - The world is ending. In fire, in ice, in the zombie apocalypse, in a collision with a giant asteroid? Whatever it is, it's horrible. Do you even want to bother trying to survive?

12. SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE - You're hungry. Really, really hungry. Nothing seems to satisfy you, nothing at all. Except that other person standing nearby looks awfully tasty. Cannibalism? Can you?

13. MINDS ARE FOR GAMES - Mind control? Brainwashing? Total amnesia? Whatever it is, you certainly aren't completely in control of yourself. Perhaps the other person is....

14. THE PLURAL OF DIMENSION IS DEMENTIA - Everything looks familiar, but it's just a little bit off. Did your neighbor always have that mustache? Was the sky always that shade of green? Welcome to the mirror universe, where you're the crazy one.

15. THE LATEST DISPLAY MODEL - You're so pretty that you belong on a shelf. Or behind bars. Perhaps magically frozen in place so that you can't escape or mar those lovely features. Maybe someone just wanted you safely hidden away, kept all to themselves. Or did they want to show everyone in the world that you belong to them and them alone?

16. JUST KEEP RUNNING - Something is chasing you. Maybe you don't even know what it is, you just know that you have to keep running, because if you stop the consequences are worse than you can bear to consider. No matter how exhausted you are, you just have to keep going.

17. WILDCARD - Pick another option, mix and match, do whatever you'd like. After all, when it comes to nightmares YMMV, so feel free to invent your own.

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It - it looks like my mom.

[Sneering and telling Henry how worthless and annoying and inconvenient they are. It's hard to shut out, but they're trying. Focus on Frisk.]

Not my Mama, the human mom who abandoned me. Well joke's on her, I already want to die! Nyahaha!

[ … You know what's funny? They know exactly how they feel. Frisk has a better family now (who are very far away as of the moment), but still. You don't get over somethig that's been the better part of your life so easily.

Henry will feel their hands ghosting on their back, tracing their silhouette, before they hug him from behind- and tight as they will risk, as if if they let go they will become dust spilling down their arms. Frisk buries the side of their face into their back.]

… please. [Their voice falters, if only barely.]

[Henry flinches, frozen at the touch, fearful of what it means. But they let out a breath and relax when they realize it's Frisk. It's. nice actually. Henry isn't used to being comforted, and they hold onto Frisk's small hands.]

Don't worry kid, I'm not gonna kill myself. That wouldn't be any fun at all, haha...

I know.

["'Legends say those who climb the mountain never return.' Frisk… why would you ever climb a mountain like that?"]

[Wait, which did Frisk know? That Henry wasn't actively suicidal or that attempting wasn't fun?

useless, selfish, total waste of my life, you never should have been born

Henry ignored the phantom of their mother in favor of the real kid.]

Do you feel that way too?

[That it isn't fun.

It was a long fall down.]

Sometimes. Better, now. But still.

[They feel the air shift. The lab… the fans. The refridgerators. The amalgamate. Frisk hugs a little tighter as their ears decieve them, the sad, slow shamble of the poor old mother doomed.

It's so cold.]

[Oh. Geez, poor kid, and so young too. Who cares about what his mother did or does think when there's a real kid here who needs understanding?]

I get ya. I'm mostly better but. That kinda thing is hard to shrug off.

Do you feel up to moving?

[It's so cold.]

I think. Hold on.

[They let go gently, backing up a bit, then kicking out their legs to stretch them. They'd been sitting on them for a while. After a few moments Frisk stands up.]

I should be fine.

Okay. This should be like a regular castle, so how hard can the exit be, right?

[A small part thought it a shame to bypass the treasure sure to be in here, but this could be just a scouting mission.

Henry offers Frisk their hand again, walking away from the image of their scolding mother.]

[Frisk stays quiet, because they personally don't believe it would be that easy. Dake monsters, fake darkness, fake walls... but they don't want to put down Henry's optimism with their own pessimism.

The amalgamate shuffles behind them, following, calling for her son in broken speech. Frisk hasn't been able to seebfor years, but even after all those RESETs they still can't get her image from their head. Falling apart. Constantly on the brink of collapse… but poor Snowy's mother will never seperate from the twenty seven other minds she's fused with. And yet she calls for her son. And there's nothing they can do.

It's so cold.

They stumble, but only for a second, quickly picking up pace again.]

[Henry is always optimistic! Or maybe fatalistic. Either way, it's better to keep moving forward than waste energy worrying about the past or present. Otherwise they'd just. Stop.

So Henry moves on, holding firmly onto Frisk's hand and setting their pace to the kid's. They're worried a bit about Frisk's health, but worse comes to worst Henry can always pick them up. Being a soldier, marching while laden isn't too big a deal.]

Sorry if you trip on things, it's hard to know what's real. Just fall on me if you lose your balance, okay?

[The rain makes the air humid, and Henry can smell the wet sand, wet dragon bones. The scent makes their stomach knot like blood and viscera never could. Bodies litter the sand, the companions they murdered in their grief-fuelled rampage. The very people Mustafa had been trying to save. Henry felt ill but quelled it by digging their sharp nails into their palm. Stick to the present.]

[They can hear the music.

It's so cold.

She's struggling. Even in battle, she struggles to attack you... struggles to hold together. Struggles to keep alive. Struggles without her son.
S t r u g g l i n g.

"S... ow... y," she warbles.
* But nobody came.

When they speak, their voice is small.] Yeah... I hear you. I hear you. [Frisk's grip tightens a little. Henry is real.]

Edited 2016-06-15 23:02 (UTC)

Good. Maybe I should talk more? Could distract us b -

[Henry thought there was more solid ground, if falsely sandy, but instead they had stepped on the loose edge of a hole in the floor, skidding down on scree from fallen stones and tiles. Even in those brief moments Henry tried to lean back so they wouldn't tumble down headfirst, but they tripped at the last moment, rolling down the last few feet. The thin material of their leggings were torn and bloodied but the wounds seemed superficial gashes; their torso hurt but as Henry cautiously pressed their sides it seemed to be just bruises, not any broken bones moving around. Still, they were battered pretty bad.]

Uf, Frisk! Frisk, are you okay?

[Frisk was falling.

They're sent into something of a panic, instinctively covering their face because they really don't wanna chip a tooth and don't need another disability on their plate. They try to slow themselves, putting their feet below them and attempting to catch ground by digging in the heels of their boots, but their foot hits something bigger and they slip. Frisk is less successful in keeping upright, instead rolling sideways almost half of the way down.

At the bottom, Frisk lies still for a few seconds, attempting to assess where they are. They begin to stand up. It's hard, their spine hurts and their ribs hurt and so does their head, and their legs are undoubtedly cut up. At least their boots survived. Tough stuff, rubber and leather.]

F-fine. [They cough. It's dusty.] You?

Banged up, but nothing worse than bleeding! It'll scab.

[Henry looks over Frisk, but they're breathing and can stand. There's also cuts on their legs, so Henry casts a hex, using their spilled blood as a sacrifice to expunge any dirt and kill any harmful bacteria. That should keep Frisk from getting an infection, at least. With another hex on their own wounds, Henry's bleeding has slowed.]

Okay, let's, gghhh

[No no no too soon not right now. Their Mama is laid out in front of them, a mass of bloodied brown fur stuck full of arrows. Henry's head throbs, they can't breathe, dropping to their knees as dark magic swirls around them.]

[And suddenly the air feels a little heavier, a little thicker, just a little more putrid.

It doesn't feel right.]

Henry, are you--

[They're just off as the voices assault them.

"You were a mistake."
"You're not my child."
"Why can't you be more like him?"
"Worthless."
"Waste of space."
"Just another mouth to feed."
"Not worth my time."

No, they wan't to say. No, that's not true. But priorities.]

Henry. Are you--are you, uh, okay?

[Henry can't focus, can't hear anything over their thudding heart and ragged breath, choking on air. The dark magic builds and swirls in purple flames, ripping open gashes, making new cuts, bruises blooming on their pale skin. They can't contain so much at once and it's slowly killing them.]

Ngh, gaaaHHHHHAAAAAUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[Henry howls with grief and overwhelming emotion, and lets loose the gathered magic. Something tells them there's a pup at their side so they direct it onwards, destroying wall after wall after wall.

The magic takes its last toll, making Henry slump over, exhausted. They want to cry. They want to die. They want to scream. They want to sleep and never wake up. They just lie there, numbness already settling like an old beloved blanket.]

[The voices stop as Henry howls, and it's so agonizing and gut wrenching that it makes them stop and cover their ears in some kind of desperation because please, they can't take this. They can't.

The influx of magic makes the air even heavier, especially when the wave hits and they're choking on nothing, walls are coming down and everything is falling apart and there's too much noise for them to actually calibrate where they are right now in their head, everything is falling and Henry isn't good and they need to help. Frisk heaves once more.

* Determination.

Frisk rises as well as they can, taking the hands from their ears as the noise passes. They start to detach themself. Forget about the bugs. Forget about your parents. Forget about your sins. What you need to focus on right now is Henry. Get him out of here.

But it's so hard.

The voices come again, stronger this time, more prominent. It makes them flinch. They want to bite back, deny as much as they possibly can, because no i freed the monsters im not a waste of everyones time, im not a disappointment, im not. But years have taught them to be quiet. Frisk breathes again.

* Determination.

They force themself to keep walking, even as old wounds start to ache and the words start to dig again. It hurts, but they keep moving. They have to. For Henry.

* Determination.

Their foot nudges into their side. They crouch down, fingers ghosting over Henry's back, tracing their silhouette and finding his right arm. Frisk puts it over their shoulder, making an effort to lift the rest of him--but Frisk is only a child, and Henry is a good many years older than their physical body. Still, undeterred, they try to lift him. They need to.

* Determination.]

[The touch of human fingers makes Henry flinch and shiver, curling tighter into themself. Here it is, humans to take them away and lock them in that magic torture school to be forgotten and die. Apathy washes over them; what's the point in fighting? There are always more humans to hurt them.

Henry automatically rises to a kneeling position before they realize that this human is tiny, weaker than themself. What is a cub doing here? Henry brings a hand to their numb face, working their lips silently until they remember human speech.]

Wh, hoo?

Frisk, [they say.] Gotta get outta here.

[Henry's gotten into a kneeling position, which at least means they have the energy to get up, more or less. They tug gently on their arm- come on, we have to go.]

[Frisk? Henry tries to search their sluggish mind, but it's like trying to find a stone in mud. But at least there are easy instructions. Henry's good, they can follow orders.

They don't need to be killed.]

mkay.

[They stand, marching at the prompting tug. There's huge gaps in the walls where their magic smashed through, patches of light and rain in the rooms beyond.]

[Frisk marches on, unsure if they're even heading in the right direction. But large holes are large holes, and only their shoulder clips on the wall. They brush it off and keep going.]

You see anything?

[Henry slows their pace automatically so that the small one can keep up, holding their hand.]

Holes.

[Where were they? Henry was dizzy and floating, coughing at the dust. The town didn't have dust like this, nor the school. They could hardly feel a thing, everything unreal and muted. Henry giggled reflexively, the numbness as welcome as sleep.

Such destruction, punching through several walls, and still the magic coursed through their body. The filmy material of their blouse and leggings wicked off enough to keep longterm damage from happening, but every now and then a surge would meet resistance. The flesh always lost, causing more bruises and cuts.]

Human scraps with holes, in holes, in a grinder. Either become sausage or get tossed as gristle.

[That is... unsettling, to say the least.]

Ah... okay, well. Just. Try to remember to tell what's real and what isn't.

[Lord knows they both need the help. They're exhausted and want to sleep, but sleeping in a place like this is probably really not a good idea. Castle of nightmares? Uh, I'll pass.]

Okay.

[What's real..? That is a good question. Isn't it here..? Wait.

Henry pinches their leg. Now that the topic is brought up, where are they? Crumbled walls, natural light and rain, a child...]

Oh.

It's Frisk!

The Stuff of Nightmares

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