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dreamplagued-blog · 6 years ago

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If I should die before I wake ; part 2

This was a role-play I had with a very talented Freddy. Decided to share it here, even if incomplete. The blog is new so hopefully these samples will give you an idea as to my writing style.

This bit was not written by me but by my former Freddy. And, yes, I have his permission to post it: :)

One. Two. Freddy's coming for you. Fred always did do what one would consider his best work to the unsuspecting. The children never truly knew what horrors would find them until it had been far too late. With quite the wicked grin spreading over his charred features, the criminal did listen from the other side of the door. Off to school, Little Nancy? Perhaps. But not in this nightmare. The fog, huh, Glen? Wait, aren't you dead? The monster's smile broadened. How difficult it had been to put an end to this Thompson girl. She had managed to pull him out of his own world and that kind of behavior simply could not be allowed. Not again. Freddy was eternal, having been kept alive and feared by those on Elm Street for decades. Those playground whispers. The way kids just loved to talk about what they could not understand. It gave him all the more reason to continue to plague their feeble minds. Three. Four. Better lock your door. Knives crept over the face of the inside of the door. Just as Nancy felt a peace wash over her for the first time in weeks, stepping into that car as though she would ever see happiness again. That woman? Off the booze? How pathetic of Nancy to fall for such an inconceivable lie. Those familiar stripes crept over the cab of the automobile. The teenagers scramble in terror, attempting to claw their way out of Krueger's hand. "Scream for me." Came his growl from behind the door as the car pulled away, seemingly all on its own. Surely the girl knew by now that he was alive and well. "Mother can't save you now." And with a single motion, the clawed hand crashed through the glass, grabbed the unsuspecting woman across the chest and pulled her into the window. Freddy would ensure that Nancy could do nothing but watch. Five. Six. Grab your crucifix. The one on the wall. Hm. Slender burnt digits would carefully remove the cross from beside the door and, with a single fluid motion, send it directly through the heart of the mother that Nancy so desperately called after. Seven. Eight. Gonna stay up late. Beneath the hat, a pair of gleaming eyes would peer out of the newly broken window to watch the car stroll down the street and off to Freddy's next playground. The only way for Nancy Thompson to lose everything all over again would be for him to give it back. A brief moment of serenity to bring her spiraling back down into Freddy's world would serve as a lesson to teach her just how powerless she truly was. Nine. Ten. Never sleep again. ---

THIS POINT AND BEYOND IS MINE C: :

Petrified Nancy glanced at the mirrors, and didn’t see her reflection like she thought she would; instead she watched the dream demon drag her screaming mother through the door with just one striped arm, much like a movie she wished she hadn’t seen. She sucked in an involuntary whimper and aimed for the steering wheel, attempting to turn the car around in a moment of desperation and hope. Such hope was dangerously naive and foolish, but in all the madness she remained obstinately level-headed and didn’t let her vulnerability devour her right to action. “Krueger, you bastard!” she cried, with fingers that slipped and a grip that was warm and unusually clammy. “Glen,” she yelled, “help!” She looked down at the the steering wheel and felt her heart swell in her throat. Crimson fluids lubricated her delicate, flower-like hands in a thick, sticky coating. Nancy called out for him a second time before being greeted by a most deafening silence. She turned a little to find her partially puréed boyfriend with his defined jaw abnormally slack and eyes impossibly wide, and all her friends seemed to share a similar fate with the boy - only, they represented their previous deaths. She stared at their corpses as if they had taken away a piece of her soul, then, with blood-curdling cry, she thrashed in her seat and darted to the window. To contemplate her next action was costly, and, taking advantage of the adrenaline coursing through her veins, kicked repeatedly at the very center of the window. The result wasn’t instant; it was increasingly painful with each kick and she sounded her anguish and more so when it finally happened. She was showered in glass that seemed a little more fragile than it would have been in her own world. One thing was for sure, she couldn’t have found a safer way to toss her fragile body out of the car. The car sped up ever faster, the roads were a blur. She had a hunch she wouldn’t survive the fall. But she had to try. Her injuries were so apparent, so painful, that she lost her voice and could only give way to a gasp. Her glossy nails were caked in dried blood, her pretty clothing muddied up with an unhealthy balance of crimson and dirt. Battered and woozy, she had to reinforce her purpose for there was a moment where she was sure she wanted to die. Her light baby blue eyes were wide with agony, the lashes that framed them like curtains were moist with the tears of her fury. Nancy sprang to her feet in a clumsy stagger, and could hardly stand: but before she had taken a couple of lousy steps forward the sidewalk extended itself, and she watched it do so in a daze. Nancy looked at the empty streets through which the striped car tore through with such rapidity, and a familiar sentiment of helplessness took possession of her. She would not openly admit to herself that she was driven to desperation at the time it would take for her to reach the house from where she stood on foot, but the ambient fog was a reminder to her that the longer she waited, the less likely she was to save her beloved mother from Freddy. And yet the disorienting visage of a seemingly peaceful neighborhood and vastness of the streets overwhelmed her. “Leave her alone, Freddy.” She said this barely above a whisper, her breath ragged with hate and quivering authority, as if in a trance. “It’s me you want. You want my blood on your filthy claws,” she taunted softly, clawing at the air with unconventional grace, “don’t you? I’m here.” Her eyebrows shot downward and creased her childish countenance. “Come and get me, fucker.” She snapped, realizing too late that she was sinking through the gray cement. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ the mental cussing began as she looked for anything to hold onto, but nothing or no certainly no person came to her rescue - a usual occurrence in the cursed life of Nancy Thompson. She looked to the tranquil sky, stretched out her hand to capture the last beautiful thing she’d see before vanishing into the muck. Nancy fell through the ceiling of her home. Her body collided with the soft couch her mother often rested on after one of her many drinking sessions, and she rose her hands over her face defensively before their very cleanliness confused her. She understood a long time ago that dreams weren’t very predictable and logic often never followed the premise of how they worked. Her legs were no longer encased in cement, only, they very much felt that way when she stood up for a moment to orient herself further. “Five, six grab your crucifix.” She mouthed inaudibly, drifting through the hall that led to the door and whirled around to see the gloved man making a grab for the holy object on the wall. A slave to her distress was she that she impulsively propelled herself forward, and though she was charging at a great pace; Freddy’s movements were quicker, for he managed to pierce the heart of Marge Thompson. With something like a horrible curse on her lips, she dropped to her knees before him and tried with all her might to remove the cross, but Marge seized her hand. Nancy clasped her tinier hand over hers, holding back her tears. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Krueger. Marge pulled her closer and whispered hauntingly into her ear: “Run.” Nancy did just that. She ran.

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dreamplagued-blog · 6 years ago

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If I should die before I wake ; part 1

This was a role-play I had with a very talented Freddy. Decided to share it here, even if incomplete. The blog is new so hopefully these samples will give you an idea as to my writing style.

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Nancy looked up; she was squinting, apparently surprised to find the morning had come, and heard the musical lull of the birds. She told herself with a gleaming smile, “It’s bright.” And she was met with a pleasant response and slowly looked her mother over. She was alive, completely whole, and vibrant like the flames that consumed her once upon a time. “Gonna burn off soon or it wouldn’t be so bright.” Marge drawled in that sultry voice of hers, quite sober from the night before and unusually reflective. “They say you’ve bottomed out when you can’t remember the night before.” the fetching woman continued with a shake of her head before declaring, “No more drinking, baby, suddenly I don’t feel like it any more.” While she spoke sincerely about the end of her addiction, Nancy went back to sweeping her gaze over her immediate surroundings before she could finally accept her old life again, and faced her mother once more, but as wonder and graciousness left her a mute, the woman cupped her youthful face in her hands and exhibited graceful concern. “Didn’t keep you up, did I? You look a little peeked.” she asked her daughter. Nancy returned her warmth with a genuine smile. The perpetual nightmares might have very well ceased to exist and from the ashes came the reality that should of been. In fact, their home no longer had bars to mar the pristine nature of its windows “No,” she said this vaguely, her voice soft and sweet, “I guess I just slept heavy.” She averted her gaze to find her friends waiting inside the crimson convertible. She walked to the curb with a skip in her step and was greeted with a wave. Nancy climbed in and high fived pretty Tina before being bombarded with lopsided grins from her boyfriend, Glen, and Rod, Tina’s diamond in the rough love interest. “You believe this fog?” Glen called out to Marge through the open window of his car after Nancy so happily slapped his cheek with a kiss. Marge was ever the optimist, laughing quite airily. “I believe anything’s possible!” The convertible top clamped down on the startled crew of teenagers, which resulted in laughter and merriment. No one seemed to jump much higher than Nancy Thompson did, the pink-loving, sailor-mouthed daughter of the town’s most polished police officer, and it seemed they couldn’t stop giggling at her expense. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Now, if only she could get rid of the incessant fog. Glen seemed to have the quietest chortle, almost uneasy to a point. Since when did his car run on automatic? Rod flat out stopped when he tried to make sense of that. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he practically roared, thick dark eyebrows shooting downward with annoyance. Tina visibly tensed up along with Nancy, for the clicking and flickering of switches could be heard. The brunette wasn’t in the mood for such jokes, not after everything she went through, and shot an intimidating wide-eyed look that was matched by the power of her scream. “Glen,” she cried, suddenly on edge and inexplicably vulnerable, as if her heart were about to burst out of her chest, “cut it out!” He was just as alarmed and frustrated as she was. “I’m not doing this!” he snapped, throwing up his hands to provide the proof she needed to support his claim. He saw the window behind Nancy, who was frantically seeking his eyes for some reasonable explanation for all this, roll up on its own. “H-Hey, what’s goin’ on with the window?” Rod demanded, causing Nancy to turn a little in her seat to confirm the supernatural incident. It didn’t take her long to put the pieces together mind and her frightened face flew to the window, pressing against the thick glass as the car roared out of the curb and into the fog. “No!” she shrieked, the image of her mother smiling serenely falling farther and farther away from her. “Mother! Mother! Mother!”

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dreamplagued-blog · 6 years ago

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A Friendly Note

Mun is 21+

I’m free of triggers, and while I will always respect your triggers should we thread with each other, I cannot have the blog completely free of strong content as Nancy comes from a horror movie, you see. You shouldn’t have to worry, however, about pornographic imagery or smut because such writing is rare for me. I will tag triggers! Trigger: Self harm, Trigger: Sexual assault, ect.

I’m actually more interested in great stories and character development that benefits our muses a great deal. But in order to do that, I’ve got to throw myself up in your ims. I don’t care if you play an oc or a canon from another film! I don’t care if my muse has to die for yours. Let’s toss up some ideas and make some magic.

Oh, wait, you should know something before you proceed. I play Nancy Thompson from the first film (sixteen years old) and from the third film (twenty-one years old). I do this because if I plot with Stranger Things canons, then her younger self would be a little more interesting to plot with. Now, another example . . . If someone were to play Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins is precious), it would be fun to have her be her Dream Warriors self considering she’s in his field of work.

#read this

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dreamplagued-blog · 6 years ago

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Nancy Olivia Thompson

Nancy Thompson (born in the year of 1965), the child of Donald and Marge Thompson, two of whom were responsible for aiding the neighborhood in the killing of Frederick Charles Krueger. Their little girl, a seemingly sweet and naive child, was an uncompromising, coarse-mouthed, pink-wearing youth who prioritized putting an end to the vengeful spirit of a child murderer. Her friends, childhood sweetheart, and mother were killed by the nefarious nightmare entity in their sleep and ever since the murders she made it her one goal to exterminate him from her world and his forever.

She never believed her father would blame her for the death of his ex-wife, but he did and had Nancy sent to an institution where she would endure loneliness and terror. During her absence he, much like Marge, became an avid alcoholic in the hopes of forgetting the events that destroyed everything he once held dear. Life wasn’t easy for Nancy as she became the rumored nutcase who went mad after her boyfriend was killed. But she knew better, and like Hamlet she saw past the lies.

She turned her back on the dream demon, an uncharacteristic gesture considering her tendency to investigate and never let go. Nancy was ‘miraculously cured’ and upon release got a doctorate in psychology, and even utilized a potent dream suppressant called Hypnocil, which empowered her long enough to evade Freddy. In spite of her questionable past, she managed to land herself a respectable job as an intern at Westin Hills mental health clinic where she met a couple of well-meaning, albeit haunted teenagers with all the same symptoms she had as a child. What set them apart from her were their dream powers, and she saw their abilities as a means to an end for the Springwood Slasher.

Personality quirks:

According to a promotional image, in the description it casually reveals that Freddy sees her brains and beauty as a deadly combination. Appearances mean very little, however, in a deadly game of cat and mouse. She mentions to Glen that she’s into survival, and that remark isn’t all for show. In one of her earlier nightmares with Krueger, she is still quick-thinking even when panicking and running through a labyrinth of pipes that all lead her to a dead end. She knows that he’s closing in and proceeds to experiment with an idea. She burns herself intentionally by slamming her arm against a steaming hot pipe in the hopes of snapping herself awake, which causes her to come back to the real world screaming in pain. In short, she harms herself to snap free from one of her nightmares -- a clever escape route.

She learns from her experiences, and builds on such lessons, and plans her actions thoroughly. She gradually connects the dots and after being put to sleep once more at the dream clinic, she manages to yank the hat off the dream demon’s head and wakes up with it in her arms. It astounds her in a morbid way. She plays with her discoveries and runs with them. Nancy decides to try this with Freddy himself. If she could drag him out of his dream world and into hers, then he would be at a great disadvantage. That idea if only because she realizes she can bring items out of her dreams by holding onto them, a major find.

Her bravery and deeply compassionate nature (she does all this for her own survival and holds on to the hope constantly that she can save the children of the future by vanquishing this curse) surpasses her own fears. She confronts Krueger, ready to put herself in the line of fire by being on the offense — gathers information from books about survival techniques and puts together booby traps out of mere household items like a sledgehammer, coffee pot, wire, and light bulb. All in under ten minutes! She prepares a few traps in her own home for her nemesis to fall into when she pulls him out of her nightmare, and it all manages to slow him down. Boldly, she lures him into the basement, soaks him in gasoline, and sets his royal rump on fire. She’s just fifteen around this time too.

She is a natural liar, trained to keep up appearances and deceive everyone into thinking she is fine when really she's falling apart rather hard. This comes casually to her, especially when she's up to no good and about to confront her fears once more.

Weaknesses:

Her weakness, which happens to be the most dangerous one is her family. If there is ever a chance that she can see them again, gain their acceptance and love once more? Not that they ever stopped loving her, but they both lacked belief in her in spite of knowing the dark truth behind Freddy. It led to a lot of shunning, which led to a relatively lonely life. Anyway, she would throw caution to the wind and throw away everything she's ever fought for just to be in their good graces. Of course, she dies for that same reason in the third film.

Nancy is traumatized, haunted. She is not necessarily mad, but there are times when she has trouble deciphering what is fantasy and reality due to the nature of dreams. She could be sleeping and think she is awake because of the illusion of reality that dresses up the realm of sleep. It could also be said the other way around. Nothing petrifies her more than being tranquilized or put to sleep against her will, which triggers a violent reaction that involves kicking and screaming. Besides, she's been fighting physical and mental assault for years. She's had to witness the death of her friends, her mother, her patients.

It goes against her very nature to turn her back on things and while it could be the greatest quality anyone could ever have, to confront the evils of the world, it could also be one’s biggest downfall. She cannot let things go, even if it is in her best interest to. She takes on an almost serial killer like instinct when it comes to her arch-nemesis, Freddy, and will do anything and everything in the hopes of getting rid of him.

She has considered suicide, but realizes that it is the easiest way out and according to the original script of the Dream Warriors film (before it was altered) it is revealed that she has considered death a couple of times in such a casual manner. The only reason she doesn’t go through with it is because there is no guarantee that she will escape Freddy that way. But such weakness does creep onto her from time to time. Thankfully, she isn’t overly dramatic about it and will simply mention it rather casually to herself.

The human body is a fragile thing. According to a description of her from the script, she is not even the strongest of her friends (all murdered) and only survives because of her wit and cunning nature. Still, she bleeds and is as mortal as they come. She needs to eat, sleep and breathe in order to function. Take out one of those major components and she’s gone.

Nancy can’t seem to understand why people aren’t quite so willing to believe her claims of Krueger being the cause for the deaths of many. The answer is so simple to her, and yet so complex to others. The moment someone calls her crazy she gets understandably upset and refuses to see their side of things, which implies she has a strange sense of self-righteousness that she wholly defends. She’s a little stubborn to that extent and inconsiderate. And for some reason she's a bit rude with certain authority figures.

She’s emotionally vulnerable in spite of her fierce personality. She expresses grief like anyone else in her shoes. She gets tired from running mentally and physically. She loves her mother but cannot stand her alcoholism (her constant need to get away from the truth by getting good and loaded), and proves it to her by smashing her bottle and screaming wildly in her face. She fights her way through hell in cute pajamas, which implicates her innocence. She wants nothing more than the love of her father and the restoration of his faith in her, but all he sees is his little girl turning into an utter loon. Dysfunctional family, dysfunctional mind, broken heart

#About Nancy

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