Title: Fearless

Rating: M for Language, Violence, Grotesquerie, and General Trippiness

Summary: A girl suffers trauma to her temporal lobe. The result: no fear. ~ Uh, I guess you don't have to squint for romance anymore. 1000 words per drabble.

Disclaimer & Important Notes: Don't own Freddy; don't own the rhymes. You know the drill.






(Night 132)

"You killed that boy," Ash says. Freddy looks down at her feet, which are bare and clean. The grime of his world rarely touches her.

"M-M-Marcus J-Jacobs," he mocks, using the fucker's own voice. It looks and sounds alien, coming from his twisted mouth. He's feeling caged and doesn't know why; he paces in front of her and moves into her space.

She leans against the pipes behind her, but the movement looks lazy, not worried. "You can't kill everyone who tries to hurt me," she says.

"Try me," he snarls. He realizes too late how that sounds, and adds for good measure: "Bitch."

"I don't want you to," she corrects herself, and he snorts, wondering when she began thinking she pulled the strings. Furthermore, with a fresh soul under his belt—even a rotten one—he can feel some of his strength surging back. He'll be out in no time, and when he is…

"At the same time," she says, and leans forward languidly, her hands hanging onto the small pipe behind her as though it were a railing or an anchor. The position does fanfuckingtastic things to her breasts. "At the same time, it's reassuring to know that you won't let anyone hurt me."

It's all he can do to keep his cool, to keep a straight face. "Whore," he says reasonably, "I would kill you in a second."

She shakes her head. "No," she says thoughtfully. "You haven't tried in so long. You let my brother go. And my mother. And Annie." A pause. "I see it. A promise. I trust you. I know."

His lip curls, and he snickers loudly. It echoes off the pipes. "A promise?" he asks mockingly.

She is slow to answer, measuring each word. "Sometimes, being like I am makes it harder to understand people," she says quietly, and tilts her head to eye him. "But sometimes it makes it easier." She grins. "I'm...objective."

His throat is parched. He wants to bite deep and drink her in. "And what do you think you understand, bitch?" he asks leisurely. He means to taunt her, but the words are like calloused palms moving over her skin. The tips of his blades glide over her cheek, catch on her soft lower lip-bringing a drop of blood to the surface like a garnet-and graze her throat. She holds still for him: not from fear, but as though it's a gift she thinks she's giving him. His claw stops just above her breasts, below her collarbone. He can see the pulse in her throat.

"You've been wanting to torture me, to make me cry and beg," she says. "But then you think there are better ways to accomplish all those things." She traces her fingertips lazily up the cold metal blades. Past the leather. To his skin. Her fingertips lay thoughtlessly, lingering just under the cuff of his sweater. "I could stay with you here forever," she adds dreamily. "I'd be glad to." He hears her words, unspoken: you make me feel. He hears the memory of her laughter: that's not fear.

She's leaning in, and his claws pop through the first layer of her skin. Blood drips down, crimson and vermilion against her gilded flesh. Her mouth is just parted and she looks like she's aching for something—like she wants to hang herself from his lips. The predator in him circles excitedly, looking forward to tormenting its prey, even if he knows it won't last. The other thing inside him wants only to give her his mouth like a lash. He remembers that the best reaction he ever got from her was the night he wrapped her in his own sweater.

He eases up on the blades, letting her sway closer to him. He can feel her cool breath on his scalded lips. She looks wistful. And hungry. And honest. It's a strange combination, and one he doesn't think he's seen before—and he's seen a lot of expressions. If he has to guess, he would say it looks like—

"You don't believe in love," he reminds her. He doesn't know how he expects her to respond, but he knows it's viscerally important. And maybe he's okay with it. As long as he still gets the blood and the screaming, too.

"Mm," she agrees, and sways closer. Her mouth is only a ghost away from his, cool and sweet as water. "But I believe in you."

The rosy clouds float overhead,
The sun is going down;
And now the sandman's gentle tread
Comes stealing through the town.
"White sand, white sand," he softly cries,
And as he shakes his hand,
Straightway there lies on babies' eyes
His gift of shining sand.

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.
So when you hear the sandman's song
Sound through the twilight sweet,
Be sure you do not keep him long
A-waiting in the street.

Lie softly down, dear little head,
Rest quiet, busy hands,
Till, by your bed his good-night said,
He strews the shining sands.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown,
As shuts the rose, they softly close,
When he goes through the town.





Ever since I first decided to continue this series beyond the original eight installments, I knew how I was going to end it. I have always had a tendency to tell my tales from the end in reverse. Nevertheless, a scant week later, DreamRevolution and psychadelicious both reaffirmed that I was making the right choice by suggesting the same prompt I had already put to use:


Therefore, I would like to offer a special thank-you to the two of them for this closing drabble, and extend another thank you to fantasmeqrt for the awesome, ironic verses which accompany it.

It is 745 words long, and I think I am pleased with it.

I started the extra drabbles knowing immediately that I wanted this particular closing dialogue. I didn't know how I'd get there, but I knew it was the end goal. To me, having faith in another person is the deep, dirty foundations of even the remote possibility of anything more (like friendship, or love, or whatever). It's the most important part of the equation.

Freddy survives mainly on belief, even moreso than gathering his power from souls: victims have to believe he can hurt them, have to believe that he's real. I wondered if anyone ever believed in him, though, with no illusions or fear or angst or grandeur, just gritty and mean and honest. Furthermore, I just couldn't see either of these two using the L-word and in some ways, to me, this actually seemed both more romantic and more in-character for both of them. I hope you all have enjoyed, and I appreciate all of your support and prompts as I've created this piece.

A special thanks to DreamRevolution aand psychadelicious once more, and a final dedication and nod to ALL of you who have left prompts, especially to those of you whose prompts may not have been used. The writing monsters choose what they will, but I assure you, all of your suggestions were helpful, insightful, inspiring, and appreciated.

Thanks again to:

Jennyt82, for the first review;
Darkness Takes Over, for support, prompts, and reviews galore;
Mad Bertha, for following me through at least two fandoms—this is beyond encouraging;
Fantasmeqrt, likewise, for always being supportive and reading my hacks no matter what fandom they fall under (as well as being a source of infinite prompts and poems);
Jelly, for the compliments;
Nlech16, for truly inspired and inspiring prompts;
Coco Buzz, for encouragement and notes not only on the subject matters but also on my "style";
Xoomis, for being a source of FUN (frosting!);
Anna, for great prompting;
Psychadelicious, for a series of prompts that were impossible to not use;
JessicaDwyer, for understand exactly how Freddy's reluctance was working in our fangirly favor and giving me great suggestions;
DreamRevolution, for eager prompts as well;
Mad Bertha, for likewise feeding the bear in the name of the unity and codependence of authors everywhere;
Elf-warrior-13, whose prompts were intoxicating and addictive;
32124, who came in late in the game but offered some excellent suggestions to the pot;
Alison, likewise;
A-Creature-of-Darkness, for excessive compliments that inflated by head and excellent promptage as well;
OceanFae, for admitting to addiction (which all authors feed off!) and faithful and meaningful reviews;
DarkMage6, who consistently found amusement in this piece (though I'm not sure if it was genuine or tongue-in-cheek!:));
DreamRevolution, for prompting and reviewing on occasion;
Sinario, for making me laugh out loud in regards to Jesse and be honest and frank with both the pros and cons of this piece;
GirlyCard666, for kind words;
Bob tea freak, for the same;
and ROGUEFURY, for fearlessly joining me on adventures in many many fandoms. :D

I hope I got everyone-if I didn't, I am truly sorry. Drop me a note and I'll make sure I find your review again and share my gratitude. :)
I clearly could not have done this, nor had as much fun trying, without you all there to help encourage and prompt. This last one's for you, dreamers!