"Battle not with monsters, lest you become one...Bitch." Fred Krueger has me by the throat. which is so like him. I'm an artist and smut writer. Check out my Freddy/OC fic "Right into the Fire" on AO3 under the name OfficerMadDog
I am going to move to a new blog, I created this one as a secondary blog, not quite understanding how that works. My main blog is one I never intended to interact with other people on, and I want a main blog to be horror focused. I will post my new blog as soon as it is set up, I will post all of my content there from now on.
“What’s Freddy invading? He’s invading teenagers most private place, their own sanctuary, their bedrooms. He’s not only in their drawers. He’s not only under their underwear. He’s not only under their sheets. Hes under their mattress” - Robert Englund x
Will I write an entire fanfic built around this one scene that is stuck in my head? Maybe. Right now it's all I'm thinking about.
"Looks like you didn't learn your lesson." Mark Hoffman nodded toward the bottle on her kitchen island.
Emmy rounded on him, eyes blazing. "What?"
"Didn't surviving that game teach you to appreciate your life?"
"I've always wanted to live!" She was shouting now. Shouting down the man who had helped trapped her while he stood in her kitchen, watching her carefully. Like he was studying her. That made her even angrier. "I want to appreciate my life, but it's fucking impossible! I can't follow my dreams because I spend all of my time working a soul-sucking job all so that I can afford to keep living. If I don't I'll be out on the street!" Her voice was so high it was scraping her throat, but she didn't care. This was like finally picking a scab on an aching sore, all of the rot finally rushing out. Hoffman's expression didn't change, and he didn't interrupt.
"I want to be able to do what I love. I want to feel excited for every tomorrow. But I can't because they're all the same." She was poking him in the chest now, real heat radiating out from her body. "What you guys did didn't fix me. It can't! It can't fix the problem. I drank because it made me feel something other than the mundanity of the life I'm trapped in, and I still drink! But now I drink to deal with the nightmares I'm left with because of you!" She was rambling. She didn't think she was making any sense. "I can't afford to appreciate my life. I can't afford to be happy. I have to keep working so that I can keep living."
Suddenly she was crying. Mark's head bowed towards her, as if in difference to her emotion. "That's me appreciating my life." She sobbed. "Working a job I hate just so that I can afford to keep going." Her eyes hardened once more, meeting Mark's like it was a challenge. "What you people do doesn't help anyone."
"I know."
Emmy could hardly believe she'd heard what he said. She half expected him to haul her back to John, to put her through another game. See if she learned that time. Instead he met her eyes and spoke quietly. He was letting her in on a secret.
"I know none of this works."
"Then why do you do it?"
Hoffman sat at one of the stools at her island. Emmy, feeling like this was one hell of a story coming and consequences be damned, she grabbed a second glass for the detective and poured him a generous drink.
Will I write an entire fanfic built around this one scene that is stuck in my head? Maybe. Right now it's all I'm thinking about.
"Looks like you didn't learn your lesson." Mark Hoffman nodded toward the bottle on her kitchen island.
Emmy rounded on him, eyes blazing. "What?"
"Didn't surviving that game teach you to appreciate your life?"
"I've always wanted to live!" She was shouting now. Shouting down the man who had helped trapped her while he stood in her kitchen, watching her carefully. Like he was studying her. That made her even angrier. "I want to appreciate my life, but it's fucking impossible! I can't follow my dreams because I spend all of my time working a soul-sucking job all so that I can afford to keep living. If I don't I'll be out on the street!" Her voice was so high it was scraping her throat, but she didn't care. This was like finally picking a scab on an aching sore, all of the rot finally rushing out. Hoffman's expression didn't change, and he didn't interrupt.
"I want to be able to do what I love. I want to feel excited for every tomorrow. But I can't because they're all the same." She was poking him in the chest now, real heat radiating out from her body. "What you guys did didn't fix me. It can't! It can't fix the problem. I drank because it made me feel something other than the mundanity of the life I'm trapped in, and I still drink! But now I drink to deal with the nightmares I'm left with because of you!" She was rambling. She didn't think she was making any sense. "I can't afford to appreciate my life. I can't afford to be happy. I have to keep working so that I can keep living."
Suddenly she was crying. Mark's head bowed towards her, as if in difference to her emotion. "That's me appreciating my life." She sobbed. "Working a job I hate just so that I can afford to keep going." Her eyes hardened once more, meeting Mark's like it was a challenge. "What you people do doesn't help anyone."
"I know."
Emmy could hardly believe she'd heard what he said. She half expected him to haul her back to John, to put her through another game. See if she learned that time. Instead he met her eyes and spoke quietly. He was letting her in on a secret.
"I know none of this works."
"Then why do you do it?"
Hoffman sat at one of the stools at her island. Emmy, feeling like this was one hell of a story coming and consequences be damned, she grabbed a second glass for the detective and poured him a generous drink.
some of you guys were probably rock hard during the scene when hoffman was hitting jill’s head against the table and calling her a fucking cunt. if i asked you to stand up it would be all over.
Murder happens. Hints at alcoholism. Extremely drunk. Hint at vomit. Little bit of hurt/comfort.
Whoa I know I've been gone a while. Thank you all if you've stuck it out for these two. I really appreciate it
"I'm going to be away for a while."
They were lying together, trying to catch their breath and sweating, lying on the vast expanse of the pink covered bed. The faux fur throw that Paulina was so fond of clung to their skin. Fairy lights gave off a warm glow just beyond the gauze canopy that shrouded them.
Fucking in a bed was a thousand time more comfortable of course. Not that Freddy was too picky. He'd fuck her wherever he could, but if he had his choice, a bed was always a good option. Besides he was thoroughly sick of the fog that was ever present in Paulina's graveyard.
He wondered why it was the same every night. It wasn't ever a pleasant dream he walked in on. The landscape was always the same, and Paulina was always being buried alive in that glass coffin until he showed up and pulled her out.
She looked up at him for a brief moment, then laid her head back down onto his chest. Her expression had been unreadable to Freddy. Her scent shifted too. She had been content before, now there was something else mixed in with the post sex smells. "Alright."
Freddy didn't know what he'd expected, maybe a little more than that. "What? Not gonna miss me?" He asked it with a crooked grin that she didn't lift her head to see.
She scoffed, but it sounded a bit tired. By now he usually left her to actually get some rest and returned to his boiler room. After another few moments she asked. "For how long?"
He wanted to give her a clear answer, however he didn't have one. "I don't know. Could be a few weeks. Could be a few months." Freddy looked at his two bare hands laying on her scar flecked skin. His glove lay safely on a small table by the bed. She'd scrunched her nose up at him when he'd taken it off, and he'd sneered at her and said, "what? I don't want to hear you cryin' and moanin' about it nicking you."
That wasn't really true. While she did gripe at him about it, he got the feeling it was more about waking up with them in the real world than it was about the pain. He could tell she liked the sting of the cuts in the moment. He'd taken his glove off because they were getting louder, more persistent. Any time he did shed her blood they almost went feral, urging him to hurt her, cut her more. They wanted him to reach around and slit her throat with his blades while he fucked her from behind. They wanted her dead.
Freddy ignored them as much as he could. Then it reached a point where he knew it was time. He had to feed them again. They needed souls. They were starving. He hadn't hunted in a very long time. Partially because the fear of him wasn't as prevalent in Springwood anymore. Nowadays he could reach his claws out further, but those afraid of him were still scarce. They thought of him as just a myth, a legend. Something that wasn't real and that couldn't happen to them. If he looked hard enough he could find them, and he'd have to eventually.
It was also true that the souls gave him power, as well as the fear, but what those teens didn't know, is that after a while, once he had amassed so many souls, the demons who had gifted him would sap him of most of them.
He was how they gained sustenance.
And Freddy had gone a very long time without hunting. Now both he and the demons were running on fumes. He had to get killing again. That meant not being able to visit Paulina for some time. He'd have to hunt a few people at least to satiate himself and those who had given him these powers.
The dream began to fade around the edges. Paulina was drifting off into deeper, dreamless, sleep. Soon he'd be wrapped in blackness if he didn't slip back to his boiler room. He'd put it off long enough, rolling off the bed and grabbing his glove from the table. When the blades were safely back where they belonged he raised one and slit a hole in the air, tearing the fabric of Paulina's dream to reveal rusted pipes and steam blowing. Freddy turned and took one last look at Paul's slumped form. It wasn't often he saw someone sleep so peacefully. The black void at the edges creeped closer and closer, so Freddy turned from the dream and left Paulina to rest.
At first it was too easy. He'd gone back to Springwood, and enough time had passed that Freddy had simply become some spooky urban legend. The teens didn't actually believe in him. Not anymore. There were only five that lived on Elm St. now. All of them fresh faced and in the middle of high-school. They were perfect. He knocked off the first two quickly. Entering their dreams and turning them into nightmares, then slashing them open without much preamble. He couldn't have them catching on and ganging up on him.
The next two he toyed with more. The terror was delicious. He'd forgotten how fulfilling the fear could be. It was like a fine, steak dinner. The longer he dragged the kill out, the more tender the meat. The nightmares were like seasoning, flavor for when he finally slayed them. The demons inside him were writhing in ecstasy. They were starved and ready for souls.
One of the girls had a deep seated fear of forests at night. Something about a movie from her childhood scarred her deeply. So trees with bare limbs swayed in the wind, creaking and catching her hair as she ran through the moonlight. Freddy's laugh echoed after her. He couldn't help himself, cherry blossoms floated on the breeze. She barely noticed them, but they were like a comfort to Freddy. Eventually the trunks of the trees gave way to steaming pipes that hissed menacingly all around her.
Once the teen realized her setting had changed, she slowed down, looking around in confusion, her breathing still harsh and uncontrolled. Freddy knew she was thinking about all the myths and legends she and her friends used to laugh and giggle at. Not so funny now, were they? The passageway she was moving through began to get tighter and tighter, the pipes moving in toward her, hissing with scalding steam. She yelped as the scalding air burned her arms.
He was waiting for her at the only opening, dragging his knives along the rusted metal. She covered her ears and let out a scream. It was delicious. Metal clanged with the pounding of her bare feet as she tried to veer off into a different direction, only to crash into more pipes.
He grabbed her before she could run off again, feeling full from her terror, and sank his knives into her stomach. They went in deep, sliding through her as if she were made up of warm butter. When he ripped them back out, blood splattered against him, hot and viscous.
The demons moaned their pleasure. Next was the boy and then his final girl.
The boy was typical. Nothing exciting going on in his head. It was easy enough to craft a nightmare that left him shaking putty in Freddy's claws. He had some basic fears about disappointing his father, not being good at football.
Freddy put him out on a field,his teammates yelling and berating him. The air around them was freezing, the pluming breath from the players creating a fog. The teen wheeled about, trying to make sense of what they were even yelling at them.
Freddy elbowed his way through, dressed as the couch, whistle swinging from his neck. "You need to get your head into the game!" He started cackling, putting the knives of his glove through the cage of the boy's helmet. The teen's eyes went wide. He couldn't even see it coming. Lights were on, but no one was home.
Freddy pulled the kid's head right off. It was easy when the world bent to his rules. He tossed the head into the air, then punted it across the field. The other players all scrambled after it. Tackling each other to grab the head and make a goal.
Freddy stayed by the body, which fell to the grass, squirting blood from the neck. He kept laughing, even as the dream began to fade as the kid died. What a riot.
Now for his Final Girl, Gwen. She was the typical pick for a Final Girl, smart and spunky, but naive in other ways. She had barely turned 18 and had been excited for college. Now she was just desperate to live through the night.
Freddy had toyed with her while killing off all her friends, bringing her into the boiler room, showing her what he was doing to the others while he did it. Really building up her fear, but not tailoring anything to her specific fears, not until she was the only one left.
But now Freddy was running out of time. He could tell the adults of Springwood were catching on. They were figuring out their teens were dying because of him once more, and they were sure to put Gwen on Hypnosil soon. He had to make his move now. He decided to let her live, hoping the fear he had generated would be enough to keep him strong and the demons fed for a while, long enough for them to forget again. He worried that if he finished her off as well the town would go on shut down. Maybe if he let her win, they would think he was finished.
That was his hope, anyway. He knew it was a long shot, but it was his best one.
In the meantime he had his fun. She had some really good fears too. Her biggest one, even though she lived deep in the midwest, far from any ocean, was of the deep sea. Even the idea of floating over the vast depth of water, not knowing what could rise up to swallow her whole, had her heart pounding in her chest.
So, naturally, Freddy made her tread water over a trench. She cried, spinning around in the salt water, trying to get somewhere that she could at least stand on her feet. But there was nothing. No land in sight, the bottom of the ocean leagues below her. The only thing keeping her alive was her quickly waning strength. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs to scream for help. It didn’t matter. There was no one around to hear her.
For a long time it was just her, floating out in the middle of nothing. It was becoming a struggle to just keep her head above water. Gwen tried to float, to lay on her back and let her natural buoyancy keep her from submerging. But she sank like a stone unless she was kicking her legs desperately.
A suspiciously striped tentacle reached from the depths and snagged her foot. Gwen finally did scream and water rushed into her open mouth. She choked, thrashing wildly to keep her head up so that she could grab one more gasp of air before being submerged. He dragged her down, down, down until the pressure of the sea was nearly too much. Gwen fought him, clawing at his tentacle with her fingers. He let them tear deep grooves in him, shredding the appendage.
Gwen kicked madly to reach the surface, and Freddy watched her go. Best to end things now. If she found a way to actually hurt him that wouldn't do him or the demons any good. She'd fear the nightmares for a while. Her paranoia would spread through the town, to the school she went to. That should keep the demons satisfied.
Freddy hoped anyway. The dream was starting to dissolve around him as Gwen woke up. Maybe he’d come back to visit her time and again, just to keep her on edge, always afraid of him. The idea had the demons within him cackling with glee.
For now he wanted to return to Paulina. He’d been gone long enough. She was a respite in the dredge of blood and viscera that was his usual existence. Fuzzy, hazy memories of his life, actual life, began to surface when he was around her. When he could fill his lungs with actual air, eat, smoke. Oh man, the feeling of toxic smoke entering his lungs as he inhaled a cigarette. He had never realized that maybe he missed those sensations, until she was around.
These nights she'd let him in, little by little. He'd get a glimpse through the horrible kaleidoscope of lights and colors she masked her inner thoughts with, and he'd see her drinking at her husband's bar, sucking down a cigarette after having too many drinks. There was a vast garden wherever it was she lived. It was filled with lush, exotic plants. She enjoyed sitting on a stone bench by a pond with a little waterfall and giant koi swimming lazily. Her hands chopped a variety of vegetables next to a simmering pot. He couldn't smell the food in the memory, but he knows to her it smelled amazing.
The Demons began to roll inside him, trying to flood him with the hatred that usually fueled him. Freddy snarled, deep and animalistic. He'd fed them. They needed to quiet down.
Freddy looked for the thread that usually led to her dreams. It was illusive tonight, he was having a hard time seeing it, let alone following it. The thing kept flickering as if she were sleeping fitfully, but when he was able to grab hold of it, it didn't fade. Well he had it now so he just followed it, sure he'd get his answer once he was in her dream.
Once he found the seam in his dreamscape that led to hers his confusion only mounted. He was able to part it, but it felt slippery and loose. Less of a tight seam and more like loose silk, or running water. Eventually he parted it to set his boot on the inside of her mind, and immediately the world tilted.
Freddy fell to the ground of her dream with an "Oof!" Only to be immediately pitched back up to his feet. He took a wide stance, trying to get his bearings. What the hell was this?
Ever since she'd conjured the bedroom that is where he met her, among the lush pink throws of the bed. Now he was back in the graveyard, but it felt more like the sea during a maelstrom. The ground kept swaying and undulating, the sky itself spinning on some axis thay Freddy could not recognize.
He tried to take control of the dream, to at least stop the world from spiraling. The fabric of the dream's reality slipped through his fingers, viscous and sludge like. The world felt thick and warped, fogged over, bending over itself, then stretching abnormally like one of those carnival mirrors. It was congealed around the edges, which made Freddy feel sick. The demons inside him were reveling, at this. At Paul's misery.
Freddy had to find her. Whatever was wrong was with her. He couldn't bend this place to his will so he had to get to the root of the problem. He didn't try to run. It was hard enough walking with the way the ground rolled like waves at sea. He felt like he had to lean to one side to keep himself up, the world tilting horribly to one side. This feeling was oddly familiar, Freddy couldn't quite put a finger on it, but in the back of his mind he knew he'd felt this way before.
It wasn't long until he found her. He'd walked the same path so often in the beginning, that even as the earth beneath him twisted and rolled, his boots found the mouth of her grave instantly. The specters were there, dumping their shovels of dirt, but now they were blurred around the edges, unclear like static. They had no mass now, and Freddy moved through them as if they were just a part of the mist that surrounded them.
And there she was, just as she had been the times before, lying in the glass coffin. Now she just lie prone, no banging on the glass, or patience as she waited for him to retrieve her out of it. In fact she looked like she was asleep in the dream itself. Freddy leapt down into the grave, boots hitting the glass. Nothing from her. A feeling Freddy hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever, leapt into his throat. Worry. He got his boots in the dirt on either side of her coffin so that he could open it.
As soon as he did the smell hit him, and he knew what was wrong.
Booze. She was drunk as hell, probably beyond that. Absolutely, totally wasted. A rush of relief flooded Freddy so quickly and so thoroughly it almost knocked him on his ass. He'd known she liked to drink. She'd fallen asleep plenty tipsy before. But she'd never been this far gone. Had she just had a particularly wild night? Would he even be able to talk to her?
And the nightmare…Freddy looked up out of the hole. The ghosts were still dumping dirt onto them, but the weight of it never fell, only disappeared. Still, her nightmare was back…if less potent. He had to get her out of this grave, and do it the old fashioned way. Not being able to control things was so thoroughly irritating. He was definitely going to let her have it as soon as she was cognitive enough. For now he just grabbed her and heaved her over his shoulder, which produced a groan from the woman. Freddy grumbled back at her. Luckily he still had his unnatural strength here, and was able to haul them both out.
He heaved her out onto the grass, far, far away from the specters. Her body was limp and heavy, and when he laid her down she didn't move to a more comf position. Freddy sat down in the grass next to her. He gave her shoulder a shake. "Hey, ya drunk, gettin all sloppy without me?"
There wasn't much of a response. She was now laying on her side while he sat beside her, with her back to him. Freddy leaned over her to get a better look at her face, giving her shoulder another shake. "Hey!"
Her eye opened slowly, rolling all the way around the socket before coming to rest on him. That worry began to bite up that back of his throat. This wasn't a normal level of smashed. This was something else. "Hey." He said it more gently this time, pulling her onto his lap, one arm around her back to hold her up. "What the hell is going on with you?"
Paulina's head rolled to the side, eyes trying to stay open but unable to focus. "Couldn't…the nightmares…not so bad with…a few drinks." She spoke painfully slowly, like she'd forget she was speaking for a few moments.
"This ain't a few drinks." Freddy snarled. He wanted to be angry. He wasn't though. There was only the worry, horrible and choking.
Paulina groaned, brows furrowing up in the middle. "M alright." She looked incredibly pale, and swallowing looked difficult for her.
"Don't throw up." Freddy held her closer to his chest. "If you throat up with me here you could suffocate on it."
The furrow in her brow deepened even more and she closed her eyes "S'not usually this bad."
"You're going to be hatin yourself in the morning." Freddy said, carefully moving some hair out of her sweaty face with one of his blades.
"Glad you're back." Paulina said. Freddy barely heard it, as it was more of a mumble, but he did and it made him smile.
"And you ruined our reunion." He tapped her nose with the tip of his blade, "I was going to give it to ya so good you'd be begging for mercy."
Her hand fisted itself in his sweater. "Morrow?"
"Yeah." Freddy smiled a smile that was all sharp teeth. Paulina didn't see it with her eyes closed. Too bad, it was one of his best. "Tomorrow, and I think some spanking as punishment for being this sloppy for my return."
The dip in her brow was back. She was swallowing again, faster now. Oh no. It didn't look like she was going to be able to stop it. Panic rose in Freddy's chest. He reached out with his claws, tearing into his boiler room. He practically threw her off of him and scrambled back into the opening, ignoring her wet huff and groan. He sealed the connection between their dreamscapes as quickly as he could, his last fleeting glimpse being her trying to lift herself on shaking arms.
He sat there, trying to ignore how hard his heart was pounding, and how much he'd wanted to stay. Paulina had needed comfort. He hadn't realized how bad her nightmares really were to her. Apparently he'd been keeping them at bay…with him gone they must have come back with a vengeance. Freddy could only hope he could make it up to her tomorrow night.
Murder happens. Hints at alcoholism. Extremely drunk. Hint at vomit. Little bit of hurt/comfort.
Whoa I know I've been gone a while. Thank you all if you've stuck it out for these two. I really appreciate it
"I'm going to be away for a while."
They were lying together, trying to catch their breath and sweating, lying on the vast expanse of the pink covered bed. The faux fur throw that Paulina was so fond of clung to their skin. Fairy lights gave off a warm glow just beyond the gauze canopy that shrouded them.
Fucking in a bed was a thousand time more comfortable of course. Not that Freddy was too picky. He'd fuck her wherever he could, but if he had his choice, a bed was always a good option. Besides he was thoroughly sick of the fog that was ever present in Paulina's graveyard.
He wondered why it was the same every night. It wasn't ever a pleasant dream he walked in on. The landscape was always the same, and Paulina was always being buried alive in that glass coffin until he showed up and pulled her out.
She looked up at him for a brief moment, then laid her head back down onto his chest. Her expression had been unreadable to Freddy. Her scent shifted too. She had been content before, now there was something else mixed in with the post sex smells. "Alright."
Freddy didn't know what he'd expected, maybe a little more than that. "What? Not gonna miss me?" He asked it with a crooked grin that she didn't lift her head to see.
She scoffed, but it sounded a bit tired. By now he usually left her to actually get some rest and returned to his boiler room. After another few moments she asked. "For how long?"
He wanted to give her a clear answer, however he didn't have one. "I don't know. Could be a few weeks. Could be a few months." Freddy looked at his two bare hands laying on her scar flecked skin. His glove lay safely on a small table by the bed. She'd scrunched her nose up at him when he'd taken it off, and he'd sneered at her and said, "what? I don't want to hear you cryin' and moanin' about it nicking you."
That wasn't really true. While she did gripe at him about it, he got the feeling it was more about waking up with them in the real world than it was about the pain. He could tell she liked the sting of the cuts in the moment. He'd taken his glove off because they were getting louder, more persistent. Any time he did shed her blood they almost went feral, urging him to hurt her, cut her more. They wanted him to reach around and slit her throat with his blades while he fucked her from behind. They wanted her dead.
Freddy ignored them as much as he could. Then it reached a point where he knew it was time. He had to feed them again. They needed souls. They were starving. He hadn't hunted in a very long time. Partially because the fear of him wasn't as prevalent in Springwood anymore. Nowadays he could reach his claws out further, but those afraid of him were still scarce. They thought of him as just a myth, a legend. Something that wasn't real and that couldn't happen to them. If he looked hard enough he could find them, and he'd have to eventually.
It was also true that the souls gave him power, as well as the fear, but what those teens didn't know, is that after a while, once he had amassed so many souls, the demons who had gifted him would sap him of most of them.
He was how they gained sustenance.
And Freddy had gone a very long time without hunting. Now both he and the demons were running on fumes. He had to get killing again. That meant not being able to visit Paulina for some time. He'd have to hunt a few people at least to satiate himself and those who had given him these powers.
The dream began to fade around the edges. Paulina was drifting off into deeper, dreamless, sleep. Soon he'd be wrapped in blackness if he didn't slip back to his boiler room. He'd put it off long enough, rolling off the bed and grabbing his glove from the table. When the blades were safely back where they belonged he raised one and slit a hole in the air, tearing the fabric of Paulina's dream to reveal rusted pipes and steam blowing. Freddy turned and took one last look at Paul's slumped form. It wasn't often he saw someone sleep so peacefully. The black void at the edges creeped closer and closer, so Freddy turned from the dream and left Paulina to rest.
At first it was too easy. He'd gone back to Springwood, and enough time had passed that Freddy had simply become some spooky urban legend. The teens didn't actually believe in him. Not anymore. There were only five that lived on Elm St. now. All of them fresh faced and in the middle of high-school. They were perfect. He knocked off the first two quickly. Entering their dreams and turning them into nightmares, then slashing them open without much preamble. He couldn't have them catching on and ganging up on him.
The next two he toyed with more. The terror was delicious. He'd forgotten how fulfilling the fear could be. It was like a fine, steak dinner. The longer he dragged the kill out, the more tender the meat. The nightmares were like seasoning, flavor for when he finally slayed them. The demons inside him were writhing in ecstasy. They were starved and ready for souls.
One of the girls had a deep seated fear of forests at night. Something about a movie from her childhood scarred her deeply. So trees with bare limbs swayed in the wind, creaking and catching her hair as she ran through the moonlight. Freddy's laugh echoed after her. He couldn't help himself, cherry blossoms floated on the breeze. She barely noticed them, but they were like a comfort to Freddy. Eventually the trunks of the trees gave way to steaming pipes that hissed menacingly all around her.
Once the teen realized her setting had changed, she slowed down, looking around in confusion, her breathing still harsh and uncontrolled. Freddy knew she was thinking about all the myths and legends she and her friends used to laugh and giggle at. Not so funny now, were they? The passageway she was moving through began to get tighter and tighter, the pipes moving in toward her, hissing with scalding steam. She yelped as the scalding air burned her arms.
He was waiting for her at the only opening, dragging his knives along the rusted metal. She covered her ears and let out a scream. It was delicious. Metal clanged with the pounding of her bare feet as she tried to veer off into a different direction, only to crash into more pipes.
He grabbed her before she could run off again, feeling full from her terror, and sank his knives into her stomach. They went in deep, sliding through her as if she were made up of warm butter. When he ripped them back out, blood splattered against him, hot and viscous.
The demons moaned their pleasure. Next was the boy and then his final girl.
The boy was typical. Nothing exciting going on in his head. It was easy enough to craft a nightmare that left him shaking putty in Freddy's claws. He had some basic fears about disappointing his father, not being good at football.
Freddy put him out on a field,his teammates yelling and berating him. The air around them was freezing, the pluming breath from the players creating a fog. The teen wheeled about, trying to make sense of what they were even yelling at them.
Freddy elbowed his way through, dressed as the couch, whistle swinging from his neck. "You need to get your head into the game!" He started cackling, putting the knives of his glove through the cage of the boy's helmet. The teen's eyes went wide. He couldn't even see it coming. Lights were on, but no one was home.
Freddy pulled the kid's head right off. It was easy when the world bent to his rules. He tossed the head into the air, then punted it across the field. The other players all scrambled after it. Tackling each other to grab the head and make a goal.
Freddy stayed by the body, which fell to the grass, squirting blood from the neck. He kept laughing, even as the dream began to fade as the kid died. What a riot.
Now for his Final Girl, Gwen. She was the typical pick for a Final Girl, smart and spunky, but naive in other ways. She had barely turned 18 and had been excited for college. Now she was just desperate to live through the night.
Freddy had toyed with her while killing off all her friends, bringing her into the boiler room, showing her what he was doing to the others while he did it. Really building up her fear, but not tailoring anything to her specific fears, not until she was the only one left.
But now Freddy was running out of time. He could tell the adults of Springwood were catching on. They were figuring out their teens were dying because of him once more, and they were sure to put Gwen on Hypnosil soon. He had to make his move now. He decided to let her live, hoping the fear he had generated would be enough to keep him strong and the demons fed for a while, long enough for them to forget again. He worried that if he finished her off as well the town would go on shut down. Maybe if he let her win, they would think he was finished.
That was his hope, anyway. He knew it was a long shot, but it was his best one.
In the meantime he had his fun. She had some really good fears too. Her biggest one, even though she lived deep in the midwest, far from any ocean, was of the deep sea. Even the idea of floating over the vast depth of water, not knowing what could rise up to swallow her whole, had her heart pounding in her chest.
So, naturally, Freddy made her tread water over a trench. She cried, spinning around in the salt water, trying to get somewhere that she could at least stand on her feet. But there was nothing. No land in sight, the bottom of the ocean leagues below her. The only thing keeping her alive was her quickly waning strength. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs to scream for help. It didn’t matter. There was no one around to hear her.
For a long time it was just her, floating out in the middle of nothing. It was becoming a struggle to just keep her head above water. Gwen tried to float, to lay on her back and let her natural buoyancy keep her from submerging. But she sank like a stone unless she was kicking her legs desperately.
A suspiciously striped tentacle reached from the depths and snagged her foot. Gwen finally did scream and water rushed into her open mouth. She choked, thrashing wildly to keep her head up so that she could grab one more gasp of air before being submerged. He dragged her down, down, down until the pressure of the sea was nearly too much. Gwen fought him, clawing at his tentacle with her fingers. He let them tear deep grooves in him, shredding the appendage.
Gwen kicked madly to reach the surface, and Freddy watched her go. Best to end things now. If she found a way to actually hurt him that wouldn't do him or the demons any good. She'd fear the nightmares for a while. Her paranoia would spread through the town, to the school she went to. That should keep the demons satisfied.
Freddy hoped anyway. The dream was starting to dissolve around him as Gwen woke up. Maybe he’d come back to visit her time and again, just to keep her on edge, always afraid of him. The idea had the demons within him cackling with glee.
For now he wanted to return to Paulina. He’d been gone long enough. She was a respite in the dredge of blood and viscera that was his usual existence. Fuzzy, hazy memories of his life, actual life, began to surface when he was around her. When he could fill his lungs with actual air, eat, smoke. Oh man, the feeling of toxic smoke entering his lungs as he inhaled a cigarette. He had never realized that maybe he missed those sensations, until she was around.
These nights she'd let him in, little by little. He'd get a glimpse through the horrible kaleidoscope of lights and colors she masked her inner thoughts with, and he'd see her drinking at her husband's bar, sucking down a cigarette after having too many drinks. There was a vast garden wherever it was she lived. It was filled with lush, exotic plants. She enjoyed sitting on a stone bench by a pond with a little waterfall and giant koi swimming lazily. Her hands chopped a variety of vegetables next to a simmering pot. He couldn't smell the food in the memory, but he knows to her it smelled amazing.
The Demons began to roll inside him, trying to flood him with the hatred that usually fueled him. Freddy snarled, deep and animalistic. He'd fed them. They needed to quiet down.
Freddy looked for the thread that usually led to her dreams. It was illusive tonight, he was having a hard time seeing it, let alone following it. The thing kept flickering as if she were sleeping fitfully, but when he was able to grab hold of it, it didn't fade. Well he had it now so he just followed it, sure he'd get his answer once he was in her dream.
Once he found the seam in his dreamscape that led to hers his confusion only mounted. He was able to part it, but it felt slippery and loose. Less of a tight seam and more like loose silk, or running water. Eventually he parted it to set his boot on the inside of her mind, and immediately the world tilted.
Freddy fell to the ground of her dream with an "Oof!" Only to be immediately pitched back up to his feet. He took a wide stance, trying to get his bearings. What the hell was this?
Ever since she'd conjured the bedroom that is where he met her, among the lush pink throws of the bed. Now he was back in the graveyard, but it felt more like the sea during a maelstrom. The ground kept swaying and undulating, the sky itself spinning on some axis thay Freddy could not recognize.
He tried to take control of the dream, to at least stop the world from spiraling. The fabric of the dream's reality slipped through his fingers, viscous and sludge like. The world felt thick and warped, fogged over, bending over itself, then stretching abnormally like one of those carnival mirrors. It was congealed around the edges, which made Freddy feel sick. The demons inside him were reveling, at this. At Paul's misery.
Freddy had to find her. Whatever was wrong was with her. He couldn't bend this place to his will so he had to get to the root of the problem. He didn't try to run. It was hard enough walking with the way the ground rolled like waves at sea. He felt like he had to lean to one side to keep himself up, the world tilting horribly to one side. This feeling was oddly familiar, Freddy couldn't quite put a finger on it, but in the back of his mind he knew he'd felt this way before.
It wasn't long until he found her. He'd walked the same path so often in the beginning, that even as the earth beneath him twisted and rolled, his boots found the mouth of her grave instantly. The specters were there, dumping their shovels of dirt, but now they were blurred around the edges, unclear like static. They had no mass now, and Freddy moved through them as if they were just a part of the mist that surrounded them.
And there she was, just as she had been the times before, lying in the glass coffin. Now she just lie prone, no banging on the glass, or patience as she waited for him to retrieve her out of it. In fact she looked like she was asleep in the dream itself. Freddy leapt down into the grave, boots hitting the glass. Nothing from her. A feeling Freddy hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever, leapt into his throat. Worry. He got his boots in the dirt on either side of her coffin so that he could open it.
As soon as he did the smell hit him, and he knew what was wrong.
Booze. She was drunk as hell, probably beyond that. Absolutely, totally wasted. A rush of relief flooded Freddy so quickly and so thoroughly it almost knocked him on his ass. He'd known she liked to drink. She'd fallen asleep plenty tipsy before. But she'd never been this far gone. Had she just had a particularly wild night? Would he even be able to talk to her?
And the nightmare…Freddy looked up out of the hole. The ghosts were still dumping dirt onto them, but the weight of it never fell, only disappeared. Still, her nightmare was back…if less potent. He had to get her out of this grave, and do it the old fashioned way. Not being able to control things was so thoroughly irritating. He was definitely going to let her have it as soon as she was cognitive enough. For now he just grabbed her and heaved her over his shoulder, which produced a groan from the woman. Freddy grumbled back at her. Luckily he still had his unnatural strength here, and was able to haul them both out.
He heaved her out onto the grass, far, far away from the specters. Her body was limp and heavy, and when he laid her down she didn't move to a more comf position. Freddy sat down in the grass next to her. He gave her shoulder a shake. "Hey, ya drunk, gettin all sloppy without me?"
There wasn't much of a response. She was now laying on her side while he sat beside her, with her back to him. Freddy leaned over her to get a better look at her face, giving her shoulder another shake. "Hey!"
Her eye opened slowly, rolling all the way around the socket before coming to rest on him. That worry began to bite up that back of his throat. This wasn't a normal level of smashed. This was something else. "Hey." He said it more gently this time, pulling her onto his lap, one arm around her back to hold her up. "What the hell is going on with you?"
Paulina's head rolled to the side, eyes trying to stay open but unable to focus. "Couldn't…the nightmares…not so bad with…a few drinks." She spoke painfully slowly, like she'd forget she was speaking for a few moments.
"This ain't a few drinks." Freddy snarled. He wanted to be angry. He wasn't though. There was only the worry, horrible and choking.
Paulina groaned, brows furrowing up in the middle. "M alright." She looked incredibly pale, and swallowing looked difficult for her.
"Don't throw up." Freddy held her closer to his chest. "If you throat up with me here you could suffocate on it."
The furrow in her brow deepened even more and she closed her eyes "S'not usually this bad."
"You're going to be hatin yourself in the morning." Freddy said, carefully moving some hair out of her sweaty face with one of his blades.
"Glad you're back." Paulina said. Freddy barely heard it, as it was more of a mumble, but he did and it made him smile.
"And you ruined our reunion." He tapped her nose with the tip of his blade, "I was going to give it to ya so good you'd be begging for mercy."
Her hand fisted itself in his sweater. "Morrow?"
"Yeah." Freddy smiled a smile that was all sharp teeth. Paulina didn't see it with her eyes closed. Too bad, it was one of his best. "Tomorrow, and I think some spanking as punishment for being this sloppy for my return."
The dip in her brow was back. She was swallowing again, faster now. Oh no. It didn't look like she was going to be able to stop it. Panic rose in Freddy's chest. He reached out with his claws, tearing into his boiler room. He practically threw her off of him and scrambled back into the opening, ignoring her wet huff and groan. He sealed the connection between their dreamscapes as quickly as he could, his last fleeting glimpse being her trying to lift herself on shaking arms.
He sat there, trying to ignore how hard his heart was pounding, and how much he'd wanted to stay. Paulina had needed comfort. He hadn't realized how bad her nightmares really were to her. Apparently he'd been keeping them at bay…with him gone they must have come back with a vengeance. Freddy could only hope he could make it up to her tomorrow night.
It happened. Let's talk about it under the fucking cut.
Hello! I am here to regale you with the tale of how my Saturday at Fan Expo went! So it started with how I could not fucking sleep the night before. Fitful, I kept waking up over and over and finally got out of bed before nine. I hung around for a while, did a face mask, painted my nails, showered, got ready and into my fit for the day. We departed slightly after noon and grabbed some food and made our way to Toronto. We get there and park in the usual place and make the couple block hike to the convention centre, the check in process went smoothly and then, it was time to shop around.
We went from the North building to the South building, much more interested in checking out niche’ vendors and artists’ alley, I was in there for less than an hour before I had to break away to run to the photo op. Mr.Bex gives me a kiss on the cheek and told me, “Try not to cum in front of them.”
“Easier said than done!” I called as I run off. Now, last year it took me forever to get back to the North building, so I left with an hour before my time I had to be there. On the way, I see a Ghostface in a very cute almost magical girl outfit, short flouncy skirt and a bedazzled pink mask. I am looking at them, they see me looking, and they give me a pose and a peace sign, I grin and give one back, a super fun moment. I get to the North building and the photo op space in less than twenty minutes. So that means I get to toddle around the dealers floor. I do so, take in some cosplays, contemplate some purchases, they had an old full sized classic Scream one poster for twenty bucks, but I passed on it.
Finally, it’s time to go get into the actual line. I’m in line 13, in the first group for the Matt and Skeet time slot, and I made like six friends while in line. Everyone was very into my outfit, one girl had a tattoo on her arm that said, “My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me.” We were all losing it. Another girl was there with her partner and she was in a 600 dollar custom fitted movie accurate Ghostface costume, with the glitter fabric and all, it was shockingly impressive. She especially liked my shirt and was impressed by the fact I made it, and asked aloud, “Why don’t they make shirts like those and sell them?” I laughed and told her, “Well, I’ve considered it, I won’t lie.”
It is a surreal experience listening to this assortment of hot gothy early twenty-something scream fans, many who came from whole provinces away just for this, just to be here for them, talking about how hot they are and how down bad they are while I stand next to them, having written a couple of hundred thousand words about the characters they love in question. I almost told em I wrote fic, almost.
While waiting around, Matt ended up coming out into the line-up space?! There was a fan in a wheelchair, and he wheeled em back personally while chatting them up and giving high-fives, he was five feet from me. The photo op starts late, I don’t care, it’s fine. We scan tickets, drop bags and then are in the same curtained off space as them, they let in small groups at a time to keep it moving smoothly. My heart is fucking pounding. We make it back, there was a family in front of me, their middle kid was dressed as Ghostface and their baby was in a scooby doo onesie and Matt held him for the picture, so cute.
Our especially extra Ghostface friend from the line was right in front of me, and then it’s my turn. I make sure my extra shirt is pulled to the side, Two Boys Are Better Than One proudly displayed, and I move. I greet them with a “Hi!”
Skeet gave me a very cool sounding “Hey” and Matthew made eye contact with me and gave me a polite nod with a, “Hello.” That I can only say was said in a very him way.
I asked, as I was moving in, “Can I be in the middle?”
And Matt had this expression with that sort of half smile he does, brows pinched together as he nods, telling me like it should be obvious, “Oh of course.”
I get in between them, and Matt’s hand is on my shoulder, Skeet’s hand is on my lower back and my hand is on Matt’s lower back and my other hand holding onto Skeet’s side (and fucks sake he is firm.)
I got an extra second because the photographer directed me to lower my head, so I wouldn’t get glasses glare, I assume. I revel in the extra seconds and contact, the picture is snapped, and I break away, without thinking I sort of pat Skeet’s side, and he returns the gesture and tells me, “Good job.”
Skeet fucking Ulrich told me good job.
Bury me now. I am done for.
I get my bag, I get my picture, I get it framed, and I go find Mr.Bex. He and I leave the con, we get back to our car, and then go to a tattoo shop where my friend Mel gave me my You Might Be The Killer tattoo. We drove home, I slammed several slices of pizza, and now I am writing this for you!
It was. Fucking amazing, I loved it so much, it was more than worth every penny. Now I can officially say, I am That Cunt that wore a shirt baring my super pornographic smut fic’s title on my tits while getting a picture with the two guys who inspired it all.
And speaking of inspiration, just you wait to see the fic I am going to write after this.
I know no shame @screamqueenkrueger - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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