bakerstreet | NIGHTMARE FUEL MEME

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NIGHTMARE FUEL MEME

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.

(original meme by

enthymeme)

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As Tim crouches down nearby, Jay turns further toward the tree.

"Y'know what this feels like?"

Jay pauses.

"I'm sounding like Alex," he mutters, an irritated aside.

"But this feels like that part in a horror movie. Like, the one where they..." Sarcasm creeps into his tone the longer he talks. It's a tired cliche, and he's rattling it off by rote. "...find a body on the ground. The camera gets up really close, and they turn the body over and...It's a twist, y'know? Maybe they're dead. Maybe they're a vampire or whatever. Maybe they're okay, and it's just a fake out."

He snorts, bitter. "Don't think this one's gonna be a fake out, though."

He thinks, fleetingly, of an entry set in the woods. One of many. Set apart by some meaningless number he can't remember. Jay, hiking up an incline, feet grinding into the leaf mulch underfoot, grim and set on pursuing the figure that stooped, frozen and hooded, mere yards away. Only he turned when Jay tapped him on the shoulder, and it was nothing more than some hiker tramping through the woods.

Don't think this one's gonna be a fake out. He sounds like Alex, and maybe the squirming away from the person offering help is a bit of Alex too.

But maybe it isn't.

"Just..." Maybe it's real. Maybe it is. "Jay. What happened."

Jay nearly cuts Tim off. "I know for sure it's been more than ten times. I'm almost...look, I'm almost positive, because I...don't remember when this happened. And I don't remember it happening. So I know I've forgotten...some huge chunk of time. For all I know, I've been doing this for months."

Jay's fidgeting with the knife now, and from this close, it's possible to see that his hands look downright skeletal. "But I think--I mean, you're the first one I remember to actually ask."

He pauses, clearly indecisive.

"Look, just don't...don't freak out, alright?" Jay tugs at the brim of his hat. "Like I said, it's not really something we can fix."

Finally, he turns.

That explains where the blood on his knife came from. He's blind--he's been blinded--and not neatly. His eyes are mangled, but still barely recognizable for what they used to be. There's a half-healed gash running from his eyelid to his cheekbone, where the blade swung wide.

His face looks dangerously hollowed out, and what's visible of the rest of him--neck, hands, wrist--looks like skin stretched over a wireframe. By all accounts, he doesn't look like he should be able to move, let alone breathe, let alone talk.

Edited 2017-07-22 00:02 (UTC)

He's been doing this for months. Did he find him? Did he find him for real this time? It feels like a dream, the edges bleeding out beneath every step, beneath the pressure of his own brain.

Until Jay turns.

Don't freak out.

Only he looks like he should be dead, the way his eyes have been - they've just been cut into, slit across the eyelids, leaving the rest of his face reddened and glistening. And Tim - maybe he doesn't freak out, but he can't prevent the bright intake of terrified breath, of shock, that hisses between his teeth.

"Holy shit." How is he still alive? How is he even still talking right now? "Let me just - let me - "

His hands are trembling, but he's casting about for something, anything, that might help. Something to - to mop up the blood, or to cleanse it, or something.

Anything.

Jay brings up a hand to shade his face, like he's just stepped out of a hotel into the sun.

"Stop--stop. Unless you got some kind of actual medical training since I saw you last, there's not really anything you can do."

He crosses his arms, tipping his head down like he's still trying to avoid eye contact. It's an uncanny motion for a walking corpse. "I don't remember...it happening, but...not too many people walking around with knives it could've been." He tilts the wrist still holding the dirty blade. " 'M assuming I saw something I...didn't want to see again. Not sure what that would be, but..."

Jay tenses one shoulder in a sorry imitation of a shrug.

He can hear him getting closer, can't he? With the loss of one sense, he'd...the others would sharpen. They would. Tim stops dead. His throat works, Adam's apple bobbing silently as he swallows. Simultaneously wanting to twist around and run and being unable to look away.

"You did that to yourself?"

Should he be surprised? The words exit a soft hiss, almost stunned.

The knife, stained. Jay's eyes, hacked clumsily, crudely, leaving great swathes of his face rent open, the soft blueness to his eyes, gone. He saw something he didn't want to see. He saw something, and he had a knife, and when that urge wells up in your chest, you don't know what else there is to do -

(14. High risk.)

(He should have made him go.)

He's breathing too hard and too heavily. Focus. Focus, again, and concentrate on what matters.

"We need to get you outta here."

Jay rocks his head back, snorting. "Now we're back on script. You say you can help me get out. Then I follow you for a while, and something goes...wrong."

His voice drops deeper, quieter on the last word.

"Not always the same thing. Usually I just...don't hear you after a while. Like you left or disappeared or whatever. Sometimes something, y'know, happens to you." From the way he says 'happens', it's clear he means either death or worse.

"Tried to explain it before, but it didn't change anything."

Back on script. Like it's easy as a movie. Fuck, maybe it is. Then he follows, then something goes wrong. And if they...

Jay remembers. He remembers, like it's the same loop, the same stretch of time pulling itself around in ouroboric agony. Assuming time even exists in this place. And he'll remember this next set of failures too, won't he, and every single failure to help him that comes after.

"So we..." His brain scrambles mutely for something, anything, any solution to present itself. Unsurprisingly, none springs forth. "We change the script. We break the pattern. There's gotta be something we haven't tried."

"Probably be easier if we weren't missing so much of what we tried," Jay mutters, leaning back against the tree trunk.

"I could walk out front, but...can't imagine that ending too well." He snaps the knife closed, and flecks of dried blood scrape off onto his hands. "We could stay here, but I don't think that'd do us any good either. Assuming there is an exit, I doubt it'd just...find us. More likely something else would."

Edited 2017-07-22 08:15 (UTC)

"So we..." He peters out almost immediately, frowning. What options are there? What other options could he possibly... "We climb a tree. Have we - we've never done that before. Right?"

Just break the sequence. If they can do that, maybe it means they can...he can do something right for once in these dreams. Assuming it's even still a dream at this point.

(Is it a dream if Jay seems to remember?)

Jay furrows his brow, clearly dubious, but he doesn't immediately protest. After some consideration, he lets out a reluctant sigh.

"Don't...think we've done that one. Guess it's worth a try."

Digging his spiderlike fingers between the gaps in the tree bark for support, Jay manages to haul himself to his feet. He's breathing heavily, and he's leaning hard against the trunk, but he's up. Once he catches his breath, he runs both hands against the rough bark, tracing the tree's shape. It's a sturdy oak, wider than it is tall, with branches that sweep low. Jay grabs onto a sturdy branch at about eye level and pulls, testing its strength. Seemingly satisfied, he turns back toward Tim.

"Could you, uh...?" He tugs on the branch like he's trying to pull himself up, but it's clear he's not getting anywhere without help.

Edited 2017-07-23 08:43 (UTC)

He can't see him. He has to remember that, because Tim nods the first time before it occurs to him that Jay wouldn't be able to process a noiseless gesture. He can stand well enough on his own, but nothing about the injuries on his face look particularly good.

...later. They'll worry about it later.

"Yeah. Yeah, lemme - " The leaves crunch faintly underfoot as he eyes up the tree, the space between the branches. "Here, I'll boost you. Next branch is...maybe a foot or so up? Looks sturdy."

One hand goes carefully, tentatively, to Jay's shoulder, both affirming the other man's existence and warning him that Tim's close.

He's solid.

Fuck.

There are footsteps. Leaves crunch and branches snap, and Jay didn't realize how much he'd been missing fhe ambient noise of the forest until now. He hasn't heard footsteps in...twenty? Fifty? Before?

And then Tim puts his hand on Jay's shoulder.

He's solid.

Fuck.

"Tim?"

Tentatively, he places a bony hand on Tim's arm. He's shaking. He traces it haltingly, more of a twitch than a touch, up to his shoulder, to his neck. There's a moment of indecision, and then Jay grabs him, crooked, one arm hooked under Tim's arm and one against his neck. It's barely a hug (not that either of them have much experience with hugs). More like a drowning man holding onto a piece of driftwood.

"Yeah." The verbal confirmation is more necessary than ever, now. He plants his feet firmly across the leaf mulch, trying to make himself as much as a bulwark for support as possible. Jay's trembling, his skin ice-cold to the touch, as though he's been carved from marble.

Like he's just as surprised to be alive as Tim was to see him so.

"Take it slow, okay?"

His head's spinning, as much from the exhaustion and the way the forest's carved the meat off his bones as it is from the shock. What's Tim doing here, solid and unpredicable and real the way the others weren't? How long is he here? Does he actually know the way out?

One thing at a time. Break the pattern.

Jay pulls away, shaky on his feet, and reaches for the branch from earlier. He keeps one hand on Tim's shoulder for support. (Take it slow.)

"How're we gonna do this?"

He reaches up, a bit awkwardly, until he can wrap fingers around the nearest bough and give it a firm tug. It holds. Good. Given the stiffness of the wood, he wouldn't be surprised if the thing was more liable to bend and break from dry rot.

Now for the hard part.

"Here. I'll..." He drifts off for a moment before putting one hand out until the fingertips just barely brush at Jay's wrist. "Can I...I'll show you where."

Guiding a blinded cameraman's hands to the right branch. Wouldn't be the weirdest thing he's done.

Jay accepts the help, unsettling as it is to be piloted like this. He's been getting along okay since he saw whatever it was that caused all this, but wandering around the forest following voices doesn't exactly require the same skill set as what they're doing now.

Which is climbing a tree.

He hasn't done this since high school, at least.

Jay grabs onto the branch with one hand, keeping the other lightly against Tim's arm for reference. If he's already this winded just from keeping himself on his feet, god knows he won't be able to pull himself up.

(This place is eating him alive. He used to be able to run.)

"Alright, so do I just step on your hands, or...?"

He's supposed to be the guy making the decisions. Steering them both in the right direction. It wasn't until Jay found himself compromised, hideously compromised, that Tim (I don't know what to do.) had been forced to play that role.

And play it badly.

It's wrong. It's wrong, seeing him like this, painfully uncertain. Like the near-comatose man mumbling in a hospital bed, who could do little besides meekly accept the medication fed to him, a drip feed to what was left of his sanity.

(He thinks.)

"Yeah." He shifts slightly, bracing his free shoulder against the trunk. "I gotcha. Just boost yourself up. Slowly, okay?"

Jay's head lists off to the side, and he snorts. Yes, mom.

It's a real testament to how much of a hellhole this place has been that he's this desperate for anything resembling amicable human contact. The second a solid (real?) Tim shows up, Jay's letting him hoist him into a tree. Jay's nearly wanting to joke with Tim about his concern. It goes against his better instincts. It's another loss of control, even more insidious because he knows can't think of a better option right now. It's go along with Tim's idea or get back on script.

He wraps both hands around the sturdy branch, sets one foot on Tim's hands, and tries to hoist himself up.

Slowly, okay?

The blood rushes to his head, and he can feel his chest contract, and his hands nearly slip, but his free leg swings up to meet the tree trunk, scrabbling against the bark, and it's enough to send him up the rest of the way. He sways, head buzzing, but he manages to keep his balance.

Time for round 2.

Reaching out, running his hands against the trunk, he can feel that there's another sturdy branch about a foot higher and a little further to his left. He reaches for it, and with one leg planted against his current branch and one arm gripped tightly as he can onto the next one, he slowly, carefully shifts his weight onto the new branch.

He's wheezing now, heart beating like a tiny motor. He can't keep going.

Between labored breaths, he manages, "Your turn."

There are several moments that stretch themselves out the longer Jay struggles, terrifyingly suspended, and Tim lurches but forces himself to freeze, lest he unbalance Jay further. Jay's moving solely based on touch, and every now and again there's the unnerving prickle that stiffens the hairs on the back of Tim's neck, that chills his spine, and he has to resist the urge to look behind him.

It isn't here. It isn't here and even if It is, he -

He's not going to give It the satisfaction. Assuming It can even feel satisfaction, or emotions at all.

Your turn, breathes Jay, and Tim catches himself nodding once again before he remembers to answer aloud.

"Right."

He's considerably quicker about it than Jay was, scrambling up onto the nearest branch after bracing the toe of one sneaker against a sizeable knot in the trunk for a foothold, then levering himself upright. The rough bark chafes the bases of his palms, and the knee of his jeans tears slightly when he swings his leg upward, but funnily enough, climbing up into some random tree feels bizarrely safer than trying to tough it out on the ground.

Steadying himself with both hands braced across the base of the bough from where it protrudes, Tim breathes out, long and slow between his teeth, before peering back over at Jay.

"You doing all right there, buddy?"

Tim's just using it casually, colloquially--'buddy' is just a filler word, but Jay still stiffens for a moment. He's doing all right as he can, which for the moment means a rapidly beating heart, a constricted throat, and the irrational (is it?) desire to keep going, to get as high as he can, to escape from the things that walk along the ground.

"Yeah, I'm." He has to catch his breath. "I'm fine."

With the nails of one hand burrowed into the bark, he reaches out, feeling for the next sturdy branch. The first one is promising, but when Jay tugs on it, it bends too far, and Jay can hear a soft crack. He keeps trying, and he can feel a bend where the trunk divides, sending two thick, sturdy branches in opposite directions. Feels even more stable than his current spot.

Jay grips the first, narrower branch for balance as he pulls himself upright, ignores the dizzy sway of the world around him. Just hold on. Just keep going. The split sits comfortably at about waist height now, so Jay reaches for the nearest of the two branches, shifting his weight to swing--

ERROR CODE 04

UNABLE TO DETECT THE POSITION

You have the vague sense that you weren't always separated, but you can't remember how long it's been since the forest rearranged itself and left Jay somewhere else. He's not picking up his phone, but given where you are

(This isn't right.)

that makes sense. Phones have always been unreliable here.

There's a shape barely visible in the dark. It's huddled on the ground with its back to you, leaning against a tree, narrow shoulders heaving. The flip-knife is clutched in one hand. In the patchy moonlight, it's possible to discern that the blade is not clean.

(You shouldn't be here.)

Jay reaches for the next branch, feeling his way up and over it, and -

Wake up, Timothy.

Did it happen? Did any of it happen? It couldn't have. It couldn't have, because now he's watching the shape of a man crumpled at the foot of a tree, the blade stained black with blood. He blinks, hard, breath dragging in between gritted teeth.

Wake up.

"Jay."

That was important. Jay - he was here. He was here, he was here, and he needed to get him out. That hasn't changed. What has changed is that something...

Something went wrong.

You shouldn't be here.

He's faster this time, moving at a brisk clip regardless of the flurry of leaves he kicks up in the process. "Jay!"

Something's wrong.

He's on the ground again. He's on the ground, and that's not how this happens. The scenario plays out, Tim's voice fades or is cut short, and Jay keeps wandering until it happens again. It doesn't...it doesn't skip like this.

"Tim?"

He hears a rustling behind him, he hears his name, and he's scrambling to his feet as best he can. "Tim?"

That can't be him. Not twice. It has to be another formless, faceless voice echoing in the trees, but there are footsteps.

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he's got an internal narration. he's a real boy now.

god bless

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